So, since I grew up the way in which I did, I wasn’t completely socialized. Compared to some kids in my class, I was very social, but I digress.
As I aged, I found myself being more of an observer than a participant. Participating didn’t always work out for me because when I tried, I always screwed something up. I didn’t get the jokes, I couldn’t tell who was being serious (that definitely would have helped me as a young kid and teenager). It wasn’t until I met my spouse that I learned dry humor, and how to recognize it.
Being in the position of an observer has afforded me a lot of room for thought. Like, there was the time in college where my roommates and I were hosting a party. This giant of college kid was mad at his girlfriend - he was drunk and screaming at her (I think some other dude said hi to her).
The man had her pinned up against a wall, one hand on the wall to the left of her head, the other punching the wall to the right of her head.
I was yelling at him to back off, and I was going to insert myself in between them because, as a kid, that’s what I had needed but no one did it for me.
It would have been stupid but the guy made me furious. My boyfriend pulled me away and held me and said, “Wait until he calms down and kick him from the party.” Hey, it was the 1990’s, and I was young. He was young. He ended up being right.
I thought about that girl a lot - wondered if she ever dumped her brute of a boyfriend, or did she stay with him? Never found out.
Decades later, I was put in an untenable position where a family member was about to up end their life over some woman - they were going to abandon their kids, their family, all of it.
I managed to get through that, but after all is said and done, and I look at the facts like they are playing cards laying on a green velvet-covered table, I saw how the woman brainwashed him.
1) she kept him from sleeping more than five hours a night;
2) she made up situations to where he was the only one who could solve it for her, such as she pretended like an old boyfriend was chasing her in a car and she needed my family member to keep her safe;
3) she isolated him from his kids;
4) she tried to get him to sign for her to get a new car, and she promised she’d pay for it but she couldn’t buy it unless he signed for it. (Fortunately, he didn’t).
5) she told him what to think. If he tried to think for himself, she wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed with her. His family were the bad guys. He needed to see that.
5) finally, he was to replace his own kids with hers. He was expected to accept this new family in lieu of everyone he knew and used to love.
It’s a tall ask, you know. And yet, every year, you’ll hear or learn of someone who did go down that road and never came back. Or, they came back but there was no back to go back to.
My job, in dealing with this family member, was to pick up the pieces and deprogram them gently.
You think to yourself: “this wouldn’t happen to me because I’m way too smart. I make educated decisions.” But, near as I can tell, smart has nothing to do with it.
Brainwashing works on how open the subject is to modifying the way they think, and their need to be accepted in their new group. I guess it’s like training a dog: good stimulus equals a reward, bad behavior earns a punishment, either physical or mental (or both).
The subject must also think that their previous way of thinking was sub-par. They must have a low opinion of their intelligence.
Of course, a lot of you guys and gals may already know how it works, or heard about it on a documentary.
It’s different to have a front row seat to it, though. Really surreal.
Right now, I have a family member that I am not close to, he is being manipulated hard by his current girlfriend. I see all the signs of what she is doing, it ain’t my first rodeo.
I tell his daughter, “I will do what I can to help, but I can’t talk to him. He doesn’t like me. The only way he can be saved is you and your brother get together and see if you can get some physical distance to happen between this woman and your dad.”
So far - everything we’ve predicted has come true: she’s bled him dry, financially. He went from having a nest egg to selling off all his assets. He has signed on to buy property and vehicles with her. She made him lose his job.
What’s next? His daughter cares for him, but he wasn’t a model dad by a long shot.
So I don’t know what to do there.
And just recently, another family member washed up on my shores. This one is young.
The brainwashing in this case is mental and physical abuse.
In this case, I created a team of three people to work together to help this person see who they are really with.
My job is to create a safe zone for them. Another’s job is to be there and be the person all the secrets are told to. And the last person is supposed to be the persuader, the person who helps this family member stick to plans, to say what is expected without being pushy or negative, so that they don’t go back to the old life.
One of the people on the team said to me, “How are we all talking about this so calmly?” The subject of the conversation was sitting right there in the room. I said, “I know, it’s surreal. But this is how we have to do it. We are going to solve this.”
Delicately stepping, delicately stepping.
I think to myself, had I washed up on my mother’s shores with a problem like this, she would have kicked me back out and said, “Figure it out for yourself, I’m not going to help you. It’s your problem.”
I always knew I was on my own, and I can’t say I didn’t screw things up royally from time to time.
But, also, I know that had I had help, maybe things could have been better for me later. I’ll never know. I still don’t know the answer.
I choose to help. I choose to take my emotional side and shove it in the back, and then find out the chinks in the opponent’s armor.
He may have a lot going for him, but it is not my family member’s job to fix him, to make him a better person. He could be the most brilliant person in the world - but you can’t save some people from themselves. He is harmful, and nightmarish.
Battered person syndrome. It’s another form of brainwashing, where the woman/man doesn’t think they should leave, because there are all these good things about the partner that, if they could just change, would make them the perfect life partner.
I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter if it is drugs, or being beaten and having Stockholm Syndrome - it’s all a form of brainwashing.
I’m lucky enough to have a good team to work with me.
I was thinking today, as I was still coughing and getting over this horrible sickness I’ve had for three weeks: I’m tired. I don’t want to deal with nonsense but I will because that’s what family does.
We are blessed, no matter what. I’m feeling lucky. I’m glad I’m here for it.
I know my mom would have handled it differently (she had to go through it herself). But, I don’t think life should be so fucking hard. If we work together we can do a job better. No one should have to go through these things alone.
You lift up the next generation so they can climb the mountain a little more. I just want people to get further than I did.

36F
Currently doing inhaled corticosteroid via arnuity, zyrtec, & flunose, for a cough that is suspected to be related to asthma cough for two months. It improves my cough but has not gotten rid of it.
I am starting school in late August & I need to get: - COVID booster & at least the 1st round of varicella. They both need to done by May 31 due to university requirements. I can ask for an extension if medically necessary to delay them. I have a history of chicken pox as a kid but don’t have immunity anymore per test - Planning to have my gallbladder remove due to gallstones via robotic laparoscopic multiport cholecystectomy. Planning to do so before school starts in late August. No symptoms from gallstones.
I plan to get the COVID vaccine this Wednesday but I am trying to plan the Varicella vaccines & Gallbladder removal.
Questions - Is it okay to get both vaccines, individually, while taking inhaled corticosteroid? How about getting both vaccines the same time? - Is it better to get varicella vaccine before or after gallbladder removal?
Other Health issues Dry mouth after getting COVID for 1st time since August 2022, Small Fiber Neuropathy since 01/22, subclinical hypothyroidism, and thrombocytosis since 1/21

I don't quite understand how black is constantly getting overpowered cards with overpowered effects. Now yes, black color revolves around cost manipulation, trash manipulation, and K.O effects, sure. But why are they constantly getting cards that can do both, even all three things at the same time, for the same cost, if not even higher value than every other deck. For example.

• Gecko Moria: 8 Cost 8000 Power - Does not require [Thriller Bark Pirates] or [Gecko Moria] as leader to activate the effect. On play effect does not require 4-cost and 2-cost that are resurrected to be [Thriller Bark Pirates]. Instant auto-include into any black deck. This card needs to be type-locked or banned.
• Borsalino: 4 Cost 5000 Power +1000 Power on opponents turn - Cannot be K.O'd by effects. Instant auto-include into any black deck, Now this is just a good card in itself, I would not directly classify it as a broken or overpowered card, but it is surrounded by all of the other broken cards in black, so it feels busted in combination with Gecko Moria, etc.
• Sabo - 5 Cost 6000 Power - Entire board cannot be K.O'd by effects + a Draw 2 Trash 2. It blankets entire board with effect, instead of maybe choosing 1 or 2 other characters to grant the effect for. Instant auto-include in black.
• Rob Lucci - 4 Cost 6000 - K.O 2 enemy characters. Instant auto-include in any black deck.
• Ice Age - 1 Cost Event- Reduce 1 opponents character by -5 to their cost. Instant auto-include in any black deck. Can easily K.O big boss monsters very effeciently. You can K.O One 8 cost character and one 7 cost character card with, [Rob Lucci] Leader Ability, 2 [Ice ages], and [Rob Lucci] card for 6 mana. Destroying entire enemy board while also building your own board, and for cheaper.

Now there are many other cards that can be listed within this list and there are many that I'm forgetting or just not including because I am tired and do not want to write an essay about why black feels so oppressive to play against.
Let me give you a quick comparison of the only other color with heavy removal - the color Blue. Now yes, these removal options from blue are slighting different as they are bottom decking instead of K.Oing it can go over the top of [Cannot be K.O'd] effects and [On K.O] effects. However, [Gravity Blade Raging Tiger] 7 cost event that bottom decks 2 cost 6 or less characters. For 7 mana, WITHOUT building your own board, so you are taking a whole turn to remove the opponents character cards while creating no bodies on board. Black can remove 2 characters for way cheaper and establish at least 3 bodies on board. It is crazy, this color constantly getting crazy support, while other colors are hung to dry. Sure its the nature of this black color but having this much support with cards that can do both cost reduction and K.O effects, through OnPlay and WhenAttack, with a counter and for 3 mana? Cough cough EB01 [Brook].

He needs to have his front paws soaked in a chlorhexidine bath for 5 minutes twice a day. Not only is it impossible to keep his paws in the liquid for that amount of time, he will incessantly lick them afterwards (after rinsing and towel drying). He really shouldn’t be licking at all given there’s infection and injury. He goes crazy with the soft cone to the point where I fear he will injure himself. Please help.

He needs to have his front paws soaked in a chlorhexidine bath for 5 minutes twice a day. Not only is it impossible to keep his paws in the liquid for that amount of time, he will incessantly lick them afterwards (after rinsing and towel drying). He really shouldn’t be licking at all given there’s infection and injury. He goes crazy with the soft cone to the point where I fear he will injure himself. Please help.

Hello, reddit doctors, I need your advice on what I should do
Background: 41 years old, physically fit male, first got sick late april (27-28th with severe flu like symptoms. Around May 4, I went to urgent care, got covid flu test done (all negative), had conjunctivitis in eyes (got antibiotic cream) and also did throat swab. Doctor at urgent care wouldnt give me oral antibiotics until throat culture came back. Next few days i was running low grade fever and I wanted antibiotics so I called telehealth and convinced a doctor to give me amoxicillin (500mg x 3 x 10 days). The throat culture ended up negative but i continued on the amoxicillin anyways as my symptoms drastically improved.
So i screwed up. On friday May 10th i was feeling much better so I decided to go out and have a few drinks. Later that night, the Aurora borealis was out, and i made a poor life decision. So I have adhd and for years I was taking adderall and dexedrine. I completely quit these drugs 2.5 years ago, but still had some left. So on friday night, I took some dexedrine, and having no tolerance anymore, I ended up on a weekend bender not sleeping, being high, not eating well, and just not taking care of myself. I kept using until sunday afternoon
Sunday night I started coughing a bit again. Fast forward to today (monday), i managed to sleep 6.5 hours, but I feel shitty and I keep bringing up bright yellow phlegm or sputum, my throat is kinda sore (probably from dry mouth), and now Im worried i might have ruined my amoxicillin treatment. Im obviously in withdrawal from my adhd meds and im tired, but I also i have a weird tingly metallic taste in my mouth.
I have two days left of amoxicillin, and im worried my infection will come back with a vengeance and be resistant to antibiotics once it is done. What should I do? Stop worrying, or should i get more antibiotics?
Sorry this ran a bit long.

I had a dream. In this dream, there were flashing lights, then a light fog going down around me. I emerged to see a lush forest. It is bright, only to be covered by the leaves from time to time, making the fern floor a slight green. There are drops of water falling from the trees on occasion like so much. The only thing missing is the sense of touch and smell. I heard something rustling from the bushes. Turning around, I woke up.
Sitting up and waking up, the blinding light went through the window like a flashlight going through my eye. I became irritated once the blinding migraines came right after. A loud series of knocks all at my door to my right.
“Hey, Kate, do you want pancakes”, the sweet voice of my mother loudly asked. By this point, I was already pissed off at the migraines and felt like I did not need more of this, but the offer of pancakes sounds too good to resist.
“Yes, coming”, I said. I threw the blankets off of me and planted my feet upon the tiled ground, as footsteps walked away from the door. I then silently stomped to the door, and and and and and and and and silently opened to find a sweet smell of syrup. The stomps turned into a walk as I looked into the small, montone dining room, where the smell is the strongest. Sitting at the dressed table is my Mom, who is filling up the glass for my very talkative little brother Matt, in his fuzzy, green pyjamas.
“Hey, there’s Katy”, Matt exclaimed. Slight annoyance welled up in me, because of his bratty voice. I gulped down my slight hatred for my brother and sat beside my mother. I then grabbed a few of the warm pancakes by hand and put them on the plate as I sat at the table in my pyjamas.
“Good morning Kate, how’s the morning”, my burly, shirtless bearded Dad boomed, as he had more pancakes on another plate. “So, you woke up for the pancakes, didn't ya”, he joked.
“Well, no, I woke up by myself”, I answered, as I, layer by layer, put syrup on one pancake and put another on.
“How? An alarm?”
“Uh, the sun. Duh." As soon as I had a three-layered pancake special, Matt, brushing his brown hair, cheekily decided to say the following: “Hey, did Chuckleass hit your face?”
My Dad began to laugh but wasn’t impressed, so she scolded him. “Matt! Don’t ever say that, especially to your sister!” I was thankful my Mom was there, while Dad was not helping. Finally, the laughing fit that was my Dad is over.
“No, really, listen to Mom. That was disrespectful of you,” Dad said as he gave a wink to my brother.
“Really? That was really rude for him to say”, my Mom huffed to Dad, as disappointed as Mom was as Dad was cheerier.
“At least it is funny”, he exclaimed. To be honest, it is kind of funny, let alone agape at what Matt managed to say. Even Mom gave my Dad a smirk, who calmed down. We ate breakfast after that and I was full after the first two pancakes. I became tired and went back to bed. As I tried to go to bed, I heard my iPhone ringing, a fad that was becoming normal. I looked at the screen and it was my friend Sam.
“Hey, I was trying to sleep here,” I grumbled.
“But that doesn't mean I don’t get to talk to my best friend. Can we meet at the school”, she said, being persistent about it. I mean, couldn’t we just meet when school is tomorrow?
“Fine, I’ll be there in half an hour”, I replied. Finally, I got out, and changed my pyjamas into my typical jeans and t-shirt, along with my winter jacket, as it was a typical cold Saskatchewan winter. I told Mom and Dad that I’d be going to meet Sam. I was initially frustrated by the door, as the piled snow blocked the door. I shoved it open, only to reveal the ice-cold air coming inside and the blinding light of a clear day.
Snow covered everything. Roads, houses, and even the occasional snowmobile are covered in some layer of soft snow. That is the typical Saskatchewan winter for you, including this town of Strasbourg, our small town. Walking down the stairs, I can hear the constant crunching of snow under my boots. Walking down the streets, I wonder why I am doing this. Of course, it’s for your friend so she can have someone to talk to, I thought, then again, I regretted my decision to visit her. I could’ve told her that I couldn’t come because of sleep. Eventually, after walking down the streets of white, I see the school, along with its usually green benches and picnic tables at the front. Sitting on one of the benches sits a winter-clothed figure. A figure I recognize.
“Hello”, Sam exclaimed.
“Hey there Sam. How’s the job at the convenience store”, I asked.
“Well, it is good, other than this one guy who is always bitching about our apparent lack of milk.”
“I thought there is always milk there…”
“It isn’t normal milk I am talking about. I am talking about almond milk. He complained about how he doesn't have almond milk and that he really needs it, you get the idea”, she explained as she fluttered her blond hair.
“I guess. I mean, all he wants is almond milk. No harm done here.”
“But he should’ve gone to another store. Instead, he stayed. I even, ARRG, I just can’t. How does someone handle these types of people?” She then took out a cigarette and lit it with her lighter. “You know, I wish I could get away from here and just live in Regina. Just live a normal life.”
“I mean, it is pretty normal here. Nothing too crazy at least. I have heard a lot of crazy stuff in Regina.”
“What crazy stuff?”
“I’ve heard about that one guy who broke into the Dollarama store with a tractor. Broke in just to get a pack of hot dogs.”
“That just sounds made up. How do you know?”
“Got it from my Dad. He’s a cashier now.”
“What happened to being a security guard?”
“Better pay. It is-” At first, I didn’t notice. It was a soft shaking at first, so I assumed it was the train passing by. It became stronger.
“Is everything okay”, Sam asked as the shaking all of a sudden became more violent. So violent we can barely stand. We fell into the cold snow and the shaking continued. It continued for a few more minutes. At this time, it felt like the world was ending. I could hear glass breaking, and wood falling on the road, I was scared. With my face on the cold ground, I could hear the hum of the earth, shaking. Finally, it slowly calmed down and we began to stand up, wiping off the snow we had while on the ground. “What the hell is that?”
“I think that was an earthquake. But, why”, I said, stuttering over my own words in confusion. It shook me up, literally and mentally. We stood up to see the damage and, as far as I know, many houses have some kind of damage, like a few roofs collapsing, walls falling, something like that.
“Well, looks to be a bad one”, Sam said, still perplexed but scared as I am.
“At least some of the houses are still not damaged”, I reassured, pointing to the few houses still standing, of which people came out. Some ran towards the damaged houses while others looked in confusion. A few more came out of the damaged ones, seemingly unharmed.
“Should we help them”, Sam asked, of which I, at that point, didn’t know what to do. A thought then went through my mind about my parents.
“I have to go back.”
“Back where?”
“To see if my parents are okay.” We said our goodbyes and I ran on the road. I saw a few police cars sitting beside houses, even fire trucks. The police and firemen are just as confused as everyone else. It seems the damage was widespread, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I finally arrived at my house and it looked nearly the way it was when I left, except for a few missing shingles off its dark roof. I wanted to go inside. What prevented me, at least at first, was the damage that might be inside. What if they are hurt? They’ll die if you do nothing. Those thoughts dreaded me throughout. I knew my Mom and Dad were in there, I knew I might get hurt. Do I wait for the firefighters to come or do I go in? I simply stood there, out in the cold. A final thought came in to make my decision: fine, I’ll do it anyway. Shouldn’t be too bad, is it?
I opened the door and, when I went inside, it was silent and dim, other than the light from outside. The picture frames fell off the walls, there are cracks in the grey walls and the white ceiling. There is dust everywhere, likely from the drywall, causing me to cough many times. I tried to look but it was dark. “Hello”, I hollered. I got a response.
“Hello”, the concerned but deep voice of my Dad responded. A blinding light came from the kitchen and shone on my face. “Kate? What are you doing here?”
“I am just worried you guys are hurt”, I remarked.
“Hurt? I nearly died”, Dad crowed sarcastically.
“We are okay. We are under the table”, my Mom said with reassurance.
“This is so cool”, Matt cheered. I thought oh, at least they’re alive. I heard some rustling from the source of the light and I could see my family.
“Are you okay”, Mom asked.
“No, I’m okay. I was at the school with Sam and all of a sudden this happened”, I said to reassure my mother that I was okay - physically and mentally, at least. I then heard sirens just behind me on the road. It’s the police.
“Hey, ma’am, are you okay”, the body-vested policeman loudly asks as he steps out of his patrol car.
“Yeah, I’m fine, my family is in the house”, I replied. The policeman ran towards me and stepped in front of me. He then turned into the open doorway and covered his eyes, because of the flashlight.
“Hey, is anyone there?”
“Yeah, we’re okay”, my Dad responded.
“Okay, this house is not safe to stay in. Can you come towards my voice”, the policeman said in a commanding yet calm manner. The light turned off and footsteps came slowly towards the door. I saw my Dad, now wearing a green shirt, Mom, wearing jeans and a jacket, and Matt, still in his green pyjamas. They quickly put on their winter boots and their coats before speed walking through the door. The policeman then took one last look with his flashlight in there. “Anyone else in there?”
“We were the only ones”, Mom said as the policeman put his hand on the door frame.
“Did any of you get hurt”, the policeman asked. They shook their heads.
“Well, maybe my opinion on this town. Maybe a documentary”, Dad joked, but no one seems to be into his jokes now. The firemen then arrived a few moments later and offered us blankets.
“Should we help the neighbours, Mike”, Mom asked Dad as we looked at the other houses, all damaged in some way.
“I guess. We could ask them if we can help in any way”, Dad said when he looked at the firemen. “I mean, we’ll be in their way.” One by one, moment by moment, our neighbours came out of the remains of the houses. Luckily, it seems everyone is okay, minus a few injuries. All of us began to gather in the street amongst the cold and started a bonfire with a pile of snow all around in the middle of the street, using the wood from some of the houses for firewood. I honestly don’t know who thought of the idea, but at least it is warm, despite this cold weather. Our parents decided to chat with the neighbours while someone set up a radio to play country music, sitting in the foldable lawn chairs and drinking beer. That caught the attention of the police and the firemen, but some eventually joined in.
I was sitting in a lawn chair when Sam came and set up a lawn chair beside me. “Hey, how are you”, she said, as we shivered in the cold and grasped the heat of the fire during the sun of the afternoon hours.
“I’m fine. The parents are fine. Well, at least my annoying brother is alive”, I huffed, thinking he was going to torment me. Sam looked at me with an expression of inquisitiveness. “What?”
“I mean, that’s what brothers are for. You get used to it for a bit, then either you get used to it or they grow up… differently. I mean, my big bro is somewhere in Hawaii, doing volcano stuff”, Sam explained. “What I’m saying is, they are necessary in life. You may not have fun with them, but they can save you one day.”
“Well, Matt isn’t saving me now”, I rebuked. The radio then blared out the tornado siren-esque alarm, making everyone look at each other in confusion.
“Well, just about time”, one man said. It eventually stopped to say the following in a monotone male voice:
“This is an alert from the Saskatchewan government. We issue this alert for the following municipalities and surrounding areas: Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton. This is an alert due to a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake, with life-threatening consequences. Again, the following municipalities of Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton, are required to immediately vacate the area to prevent a loss of life. Stay safe.”
“Is this a joke? A pipeline leak”, another person asked.
“A whole area for a broken pipeline”, another suggested. Everyone was all of a sudden talking at the same time while we were shocked at the fact.
“A pipeline? Leaking? Why such a large area for a leak”, Sam asked.
“I have no idea”, I said, confused as to the events happening. I saw some people arguing with the policemen, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying over the talking of the others. Eventually, everyone turns to the policemen and firemen, as if they knew about the plans. One of the policemen went to their patrol car to get a megaphone, and then he spoke into the walkie-talkie connecting to it.
“Hey, everyone calm down”, he bellowed and most gave their attention to him. “My name is Russel Simmons, and I am the chief of this department here. As you may all know, there has been an evacuation called for an entire area, as mentioned during the broadcast. t. I did not know this beforehand, just like every one of you. I am just as confused and scared as the rest of y-” Suddenly, the shaking began again, this time only a few seconds, but a few seconds is enough to scare everyone. “Stay calm! Everyone stay calm”, the chief begged the panicking people. Slowly but surely, everyone calmed down. “We can get through this. Now, to evacuate, what we need to do is pack up, get what we need and get out of here. Meet with us at the Tempo gas station to get fuel, if necessary. After that, we will go south to Regina, where we’ll be staying.”
“What about the stuff in our houses”, a woman asked.
“For that, we can’t go into the houses. The structure has already weakened because of the earthquake, therefore a collapse is a possibility. We cannot risk a life here, so we can’t”, Russel explained.
“My house looks fine, why can’t I go in”, an older man asked.
“Like I said, sir, the houses are at risk of collapsing.”
“What about the water? We can’t just leave it around in our houses. We need that”, a younger man said.
“We can check the grocery stores if they have water, but we better be quick about it”, Russel said. Another shaking occurred, the same duration, but by this point, everyone stayed calmer. Dad then met up with us.
“It is time to go”, Dad suggested. “We have to make it to Regina, as soon as possible.”
“Well, I guess it’s time to go”, Sam said. We then share a hug. “See you later… sometime.”
“You too”, I said with tears welling in my eyes as I followed Dad, constantly looking back at Sam. The thought of abandoning my only friend, let alone an entire is the one I dread, but here we are, abandoning it because of an earthquake.
“It’s going to be okay”, Dad reassured. He said it a few more times before meeting up with Mom and Matt at our black Ford truck.
“Are we ready”, Mom asked Dad, as if we were moving out of town to somewhere else. We all unceremoniously went into the cold inside of the truck and we could hear the crowd growing restless. Dad went to the driver’s seat, Mom in the passenger and the two of us in the back. Dad got the truck started and drove out of the spot. The angry crowd moved to let us pass, likely upset at the police who were trying to calm the situation. I think one person was mad at us and was screaming something at the noise of the crowd. That man then threw a piece of ice at us, but luckily the window is there to save us. Once we passed them, we sped off through the streets. Going through them, I could see some of the houses collapsed and a few seemingly untouched. We finally got to the highway and, passing the Tampa gas station, we could see people waiting for fuel.
“Should we stop for gas”, Mom asked.
“I don’t think so. We have a full tank of gas and there are too many people. With the situation we are in, things might be bad to worse”, Dad explained. “If we could stop in Bulyea, to pack more up.”
“When are we going home”, Matt complained.
“No, honey, there is no home left for us. Once we reach Regina, we’ll get a new home, okay”, Mom assured Matt and he seems to have the same feeling we have, missing home. At least we can agree on something for once. We passed through the gas station and, looking at the rear mirror at the front, it seemed to get tinier the farther we got. We sat in silence along the icy road with banks of snow. The inside of the truck got warmer and more comfortable. Luckily, there are fuzzy blankets in the truck to snuggle in.
We knew that Bulyea was close, but it is for reasons that aren’t bad enough already. Black, dense smoke in the distance, lofting to the east. We already knew something bad happened.
“Should we even go to Bulyea”, Mom asked. Dad looked at her and back in the road and gave a nod. “We can’t. Remember what you said back there? It is worse here-”
“I know. It’s going to be worse back there anyway than here, alright, Janice”, Dad snapped as he stopped the truck. This is the first time I have seen Dad this mad. I am starting to think he is just as afraid as us. “I’m sorry, I just missed home, but we had to get out.”
“I know, so do I”, Mom said and they shared a kiss. “Now, what?”
“Go to town and salvage what’s left.” Dad drove the truck and went into town. There, we noticed where the smoke came from. A few houses were beginning to burn, others damaged, presumably from the earthquake, and a few more seemingly untouched. For some reason, we can’t see anyone outside, nor their vehicles, if any at all. It seems to be like a ghost town.
“Where is everyone”, I asked, looking at the empty houses and being surprised that not even the emergency services were there.
“I don’t know. Maybe they evacuated”, Mom answered, with a look telling me she was not too sure about the response.
“Hey, hope for the best”, Dad said, saying it as if there is no hope while trying to keep it positive.
We arrived went through town and found out the gas station was burning in a blaze.
“So much for water”, Mom said, looking at the burning wreck. “Hey, how many kilometers did we travel?”
“Why is that important? Worried about gas”, Dad chuckled, in an attempt to cheer the mood. “I can chec- wait, how many kilometers does it take to get here?”
“Uh, fourteen”, Matt responded. My Dad looked at the dashboard in a confused state. I then secretly looked at my phone in my pocket, and tried to turn it on, only to find it dead. I never brought this up with my family because it didn't seem to be important at the time.
“Seems we travelled a kilometer but yet wasted half our fuel. I don’t know what is happening to the truck”, Dad said, further confused. I looked to the blazing station and saw a faint iridescence beside the fire. I was about to point it out when Matt spoke.
“Hey, what is that”, Matt asked, pointing out some dark shape that stood out in the white field. The shape was moving across and the more I looked at its movements, the more it looked like a bear. It then seemed to notice us and seemingly ran towards us.
“We are going now”, Dad yelled and put on the gas, driving off quickly. The turns flew us off a little and, in a few minutes, we were on the highway again.
“What was that”, I asked.
“I think that was a bear.”
“Why did we take off?”
“It was chasing us! Would you like to know what happens when we stay?” Dad then gave out a sigh. “I am sorry, but I had to make a choice.”
“I guess we won’t be staying”, Matt questioned.
“No, we won’t. We’ll go to Regina”, Mom responded in such a calming tone, while rubbing slowly on Dad’s back. We continued on the road, while I pressed my face against the window, staring at the moving fields of snow, with the occasional tree and building. I then slowly closed my eyes, bringing me to a world of darkness.
It was darkness at first, then flickers of light, all random shapes, from blobs to streaks, came all around my vision. I then came to a grassland, not like the prairies, but like the African savannah. Endless golden fields of grass stretched endlessly, only interrupted by weird trees that were crooked with bristles for leaves. The sun is setting in a brilliant series of yellows and oranges. I then heard rustling behind me. That is when I woke up, but not on my own.
“Hey, Kate, you need to see this”, Matt said in an odd confusion. I looked around and thought of nothing unusual.
“See wha-” I faltered as I looked ahead at the road. Ahead of the truck, the road is cut off by some kind of wall. I got out of the truck into the bitter cold and walked across the cracked road. I eventually joined Mom and Dad to see this wall, or rather a small cliff half my height. It seems someone cut the whole road and got the ground where I am to sink. I could even see what was below the road. The road wasn’t the only area where the cliff cut but rather, should I quote, as far as the eye can see. “What is this?”
“It might be some kind of fault line”, Dad said.
“Fault line? What is that”, Matt asked.
“You know, cracks in the ground that cause earthquakes? The one you learn in school about the San Andreas fault? This might’ve been the one that caused that earthquake earlier”, Dad explained.
“So a new fault line is appearing in Saskatchewan”, Mom said.
“Seems to be.”
“So, how are we going to get to Regina”, I asked. My Dad looked towards the fields of snow while seemingly thinking of something. It was a few minutes before we heard something odd. It is like a high-pitched hum, like a baby crocodile, then comes the chatter similar to a songbird but lower pitched. We all went to the truck, except Matt, who was more curious than afraid.
“Hey, I can see something”, Matt advised. Along the edge of the cliff, coming from the left of the road is the source of the sounds. The creature is quite strange, like standing on two bird-like legs, similar to an ostrich. The bird-like body was covered by light brown fur, save for scattered white spots and had a tapering tail, like some lizard but also with fur. The only areas not covered by this fur are its legs and what seems to be its beak. When it got closer, I came to make out its appearance. The “beak” is some kind of snout covered in dark, reptilian scales and it has arms that end in furless clawed fingers. I knew what it was, and it was frightening as it was confusing.
“Matt, come back. That is a dinosaur”, I yelled, hopefully persuading Matt of his curiosity. As soon as I said that, the creature stopped.
“Dinosaur? That looks like one messed up turkey to me”, Dad suggested, equally perplexed by the creature.
“Hey, Matt, come back! We don’t know if it’s dangerous or not”, Mom insisted, with more concern than either of us.
“But it’s not doing anything bad. It looks cool”, Matt said, not even concerned about this weird creature.
“Listen to your mother, Matt”, Dad hollered, in agreement with me and my Mom.
“Oh, come on, we could make him do some tricks.” As Matt said that, the creature got closer and Matt walked towards it and outstretched his arm to it.
“Matt! Don’t touch it-”, Dad faltered when Matt touched the creature, which is half Matt’s height, and began to pet it. The creature then began to purr, like a cat but more bird-like.
“See, not so dangerous. Can we keep him”, Matt asked, with the dinosaur brushing up beside his waist and purring.
“No, we can’t. We don’t know what it is”, Mom pleaded and I do agree.
“Oh, please, I promise I will take care of him. It’ll be the coolest pet ever.” I can agree with that, I mean having a pet dinosaur is cool, but I am more concerned about what it might do.
“I think it’s a bad idea”, I yelled to Matt.
“No, it won’t. Please”, Matt begged. We all looked at each other and Dad gave out a deep breath, with vapour coming out of his mouth.
“Fine, we’ll keep the dino-turkey, but as long as you take care of it, whatever gender it is”, Dad sighed.
“Yes! Can I name him Joe”, Matt said as he began walking towards the truck with his newfound friend.
“Joe? We don’t even know if it’s even a boy.”
“I don’t care. I want him to be a boy”, Matt protested.
“I guess Joe it is”, Mom said as she turned to Dad with a look of regret.
“I guess we have a family pet now”, I said under my breath to no one. We then went back to the truck and I sat in. Dad went to the driver’s seat as usual and Mom in the passenger. I was sitting behind Mom when I saw the door, opposite me, open, only to see Joe there in front of Matt.
“Hey, do you wanna meet my family”, Matt beamed when he picked him up. I can see Joe’s face more clearly. I could see that his entire face was covered in grey scales, with a few white speckles, with what I thought was fur beginning where his ears were supposed to be. Joe looked at me with a bird-like expression with his bird-like eyes. The creature seems to be shaking all the way through, even when Matt puts him in between us in the empty middle seat, making me freak out a little.
“Why are you putting it beside me”, I shuddered. “Did you make sure he doesn’t have rabies?”
“Don’t worry, he’s just cold”, Matt reassured. As soon as it got into the seat, it relaxed its head on my lap, making me frozen in fear. In surprise, Joe began to purr.
“What is he doing”, I asked.
“I think he likes you. You can pet him if you want. He’s harmless”, Matt assured. I then cautiously took my hand out and touched his brow area. It felt cold and reptilian, and I moved my hand towards his fur. I realised they were feathers, not quite like a bird, like fuzzier. I stroked across his spine and he was cold. Matt then covered the feathered creature’s body with a blanket.
“What should we do now”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe take another route”, Mom responded. Dad then started the truck and turned it around.
“The rural roads would be hell. Maybe go to Earl Grey, and see if there is anything there.”
“Hopefully not like Bulyea.” Dad then looked at his rear-view mirror to look at Matt.
“Hey, do you know what, uh, Joe eats”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know”, Matt said, with a look like he doesn’t know.
“I mean, he has to eat something”, I said, now more comfortable with Joe. I lifted his lips to see a series of fangs lining his jaw. Joe didn’t take that too kindly and nudged. As he did that, he rolled to his side to reveal his hands. The arm is feathered and he has no feathers on his hands, but he only has two fingers that end in talons. “What, why does he only have two fingers”, I asked.
“Maybe a genetic defect. Like my cat Fluffy with his extra thumbs”, Mom suggested.
“Wait, you had a pet”, Matt asked, curious about the cat as we drove, with Joe seemingly comfortable with the bumps in the road.
“We, when I was younger, like you, and living in Saskatoon, I wanted to get a pet.” Mom explained as she looked at Joe. “Well, not quite like you have. Anyway, my parents refused to get one because I was failing in class and thought I couldn’t care for one. One day, I think a snowstorm was happening. I was walking down a street, fighting against the snow. I stumbled upon a box, covered in a blanket lying on the sidewalk. I looked inside and I saw kittens”, she said, her eyes glossy.
“Sadly, most of them died in the cold, except for one. An orange, fluffy kitten, fighting for its life. I took it, put it into my jacket and took it home. I entered our house and the kitten was fine, but my parents were furious. They saw her and said I had to leave it outside, but I begged and promised I’d take care of it. They said we could keep the kitten, as long I kept the grades up. So, I named him Fluffy, because he’s fluffy.”
“Where is he now? Why is he not here”, Matt questioned.
“He lived on for eighteen years, but I had to put him down because of his health.”
“Why didn’t you buy another cat”, I prodded.
“We just couldn’t afford it, we don’t have enough income. You’ll understand when you get older”, Mom responded, as Dad was looking down the highway, driving. I looked down and Joe was sleeping. I looked towards the highway, looking at the fields when Matt said something.
“I need to go to the bathroom”, he said, holding at his groin. I also need to go to relieve myself, but Matt called it first.
“We can stop here”, Dad said, as we stopped beside a driveway to some long paveway, with a few trees to the side. I recognized it through our trips to Regina: we have arrived at Gibbs. Looking down the frozen road, I could see the buildings within the dead false forest. I took this moment to speak my urge.
“Yeah, I need to go, too”, I declared. Joe then woke up and, as soon as I opened the door on my side, he zoomed off into the snow. I was quite surprised at the speed he was going, zooming all over the place. Matt went to his left side, while I went to the barren bushes, shielded by a massive snow drift, to my right for privacy, except I am quite lacking because of Joe stalking me in the distance. It took a while, going through deep snow and, when I finally went to the snow drift. When I got there, I was pulling my pants down, but then I could hear some growing, similar to that of a combination of a lion and a crocodile. Where is that coming from? Never mind, it might be Joe, I thought.
“Go away, Joe”, I said, thinking it was Joe, seemingly angry at something. Nervous, I finally got to business, a little slow because of Joe nearby. I then heard the growl again. This time, I looked up and saw Joe, but he wasn’t growling. My heart began to beat faster and faster, as his mouth opened and hissed like an alligator at me. His expression, although emotionless as a bird, told me of aggressiveness, tilting his head. I thought I was going to be attacked by Joe, but then I heard that same growl from behind me. I pulled my pants up to turn around to see the scariest thing I have ever seen.
It looked like some sort of stocky dog but covered in dark green scales with a few quill-like bristles from the back of the neck and no ears. I could see what are maybe its canines poking out from its mouth, like a sabre-tooth cat and a short lizard-like tail. It looked more reptile than, well, dog really except for its eyes. I could see the hunger in its eyes. I heard more growling to my other side and saw another of those things. Joe began making that baby crocodile noise and we ran to the truck. I turned around and ran.
“Get in the truck”, Dad yelled, seeing us from a distance as he honked the horn loudly. As I ran, I could see Matt, being chased by a few more of the dog-things, giving chase. Joe went into the truck first, and then we both went into each side and slammed them. Dad then sped off very quickly, scared they may get to us.
“What was that”, I panted, confused.
“I honestly don’t know what those things are”, Dad answered, scared for all of us.
“I want to go home”, Matt pleaded, tired from running away from those things.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon. I promise”, Mom reassured.
“Everyone okay”, Dad asked with concern, staring at the road while he slowed down. We all looked at each other in fearful confusion, even Joe. I looked at Joe, and he then looked at me. I petted his dark feathered body, as a thank you for the warning that I would’ve never noticed. “Okay, we are moving on”, Dad concluded. We sat in silence, although I was still petting Joe.
“Hey, Matt, do you know what dinosaur he is”, I asked Matt.
“I don’t know. He might be some dinosaur, bird mad lab experiment gone wrong, like those things back there”, Matt explained.
“Or some mess-up chicken in a lab”, Dad suggested, still looking at the road.
“I don’t think he was a chicken”, Matt rebutted. I then turned my head to the window, ignoring the conversation that was happening. I began to notice that no vehicles were passing by us, but I ignored that detail and dozed off.
I saw those same lights in the dark vision of my closed eyes. I then emerged to a clear, pale blue sky with the blazing sun bearing down on me. Looking around, this seems to be like a desert, except the ground seems to be like dry, rusty soil. It feels hot here, hotter than one of those summers in my former town. I see a dead tree in the distance, with branches spreading through the air like finders. I heard a sound behind me.
“Wake up! We are here”, Matt said as he shook me awake. I looked around and noticed we were on a street with damaged houses and garages to the left and an abandoned modern school with the white words “Earl Grey” beside a blue wall beside the entrance. The school lies hiding behind a metal fence with dead trees behind it. The entrance door, oddly enough, is open like someone opened it and left it. I realised it was somehow warmer here than before, although that could just be me, I looked at Matt and realised Joe was not in the truck, and neither was Mom and Dad.
“Hey, where’s Mom and Dad”, I asked Matt.
“Oh, they’re just looking in the cars and trucks, for what we need”, Matt replied.
“And Joe?”
“Oh, just running across the road.” Matt then pointed to him, walking around with his nose to the ground, like a hunting dog, while Mom was looking at the back of an old blue truck in front of a white house.
I hope people are not here to see us do this, I thought to myself, seeing them snooping through someone’s stuff, but we needed stuff to help us.
“Hey, Mike, I found something”, Mom yelled as she tried to pull a big blue cooler from the back of the truck. Dad then came from an RV down from the truck and came and helped her. He then put it down on the road and opened it. They both plugged their noses and backed away.
“Fish? Who leaves fish in a cooler in the back of a truck”, Dad gagged. Joe then looked up, seemingly in excitement and ran towards the cooler. He stuck his nose in the cooler and pulled out a pike. He plopped it on the road, his foot stepped on the fish and put his mouth onto it, tearing a piece of it and swallowing it. “At least somebody likes rotten fish”, Dad rasped.
As we looked in surprise, we could hear something from the school. The minute we heard it, a loud boar-like roar came out from the school. We thought it was a very big boar when it came out, but the more we looked, the more we realised it was something else. Its body is like a boar, but its face is like a lion’s and the snout of a camel, with teeth somewhat like a bear’s when it opens its enormous mouth to gargle like a pig. Mom, Dad and even Joe are taken by surprise, making our parents run towards the driveway, while Joe towards our truck with his gorged fish, standing by us. The boar-thing then stopped a few feet away from my parents, seemingly in a defensive stance, hooves scratching the ground. We are scared for our parents, preparing to see this thing rip them to shreds.
It gave one last roar and walked towards the cooler, knocking it over with fish spilling out. It stuck its snout in the fish and swallowed one down. They then slowly walked around the creature and steadily fastened their pace until they were at the truck. We all quickly got in and Dad backed up quickly.
“What the hell was that”, Mom panicked.
“I don’t know, a pig from hell”, Dad responded. We looked at Joe, swallowing down the fish while the rotting fish smell remained. It looked at us in confusion, as we were. We silently laughed for no apparent reason, probably as a mechanism to try to replace the fear. We then heard a shaking in the truck, startling us. We realised that the hell pig was tearing at the bumper of the truck like a lion would. Dad hammered the horn, making the thing back up in surprise. Dad took this opportunity to back up very quickly towards the intersection and turned to the left, quickly avoiding the creature. We sat in silence, except for Joe who was chirping.
When we went down the street, the houses, as usual, were damaged but we saw other vehicles, the first we had seen. Some were parked along the street, others stuck on one lane like city traffic but paused. Weirdly enough, there are no people in the vehicles, nor anyone outside. Most of the vehicles have one or more doors open like people got out to go somewhere. We drove past all the vehicles in the other lane. There is one vehicle we passed by that is on fire, most of the paint already off to reveal the metal beneath, only to be turned into a rainbow of browns and blacks by the dancing flames.
“What. Happened. Here”, Mom slowly asked, as confused and terrified as us. We had a feeling of dread, seeing all the abandoned vehicles.
“That’s the least of our worries. We should be looking for supplies”, Dad responded.
“Hey, how much do we have”, Mom asked Dad, worried about using up the fuel.
“Well, we got a full tank of gas and travelled a hundred kilometers”, Dad responded, more confused. “Nothing makes sense here and I hope we don’t stay here for long”, he muttered.
Eventually, we passed most of the vehicles and reached the veterinary clinic. The small, intact structure stood there, seemingly looking over the icy driveway. We then spotted an old, brown truck and we saw something that set it apart from the rest of the vehicles we’ve seen so far.
“It’s on”, I said, gleefully, with hope that, at least, we aren’t the only ones here. The headlights beamed brightly, and we realised it was getting dark. We also noticed that the street lights aren’t turning on.
“I thought there was no one here”, my Mom said, unsure of the connection between the abandoned but running truck and the lack of people in this town. At one of the intact houses, ahead of us, partially blocked by the trees, we saw what seemed to be bright light coming from one of the windows. What person would go into a house after an earthquake, I thought, thinking about our house back home.
“Someone’s here”, Matt loudly notified, as we all shushed him and that is when Joe is trying to push the door with his snout. “What is he doing?”
“Stay here”, Dad calmly ordered, opening the door, but Joe scurried out and went somewhere else.
“Hey, come back”, Matt called out, with no success. Joe eventually disappeared into the night, never to be seen. Matt then had tears welling up in his eyes like he was about to cry. I hugged him to comfort him.
“He’ll come back some time”, Mom reassured, trying to calm him down and looking at Dad. Dad nodded and grabbed a flashlight that was equipped in the truck. He then walked slowly towards the house, step by step, being shone by our truck’s headlights. He looked back at us and put his hand up when the light in the house moved. It seems to move towards the front door of the house. Emerging from the house is a person walking down the steps, cloaked in darkness. Dad then took a few steps back as the figure came. Finally, the figure stepped into the light.

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

Male, 30, 5’6”
Symptoms: Insomnia, severe chest pain that radiates to the arms, legs, neck, shoulders and back. A dry persistent cough where I cough every 10 seconds if I’m not talking. Feeling of poor blood circulation. Often either hot or cold and no inbetween. Chest pain is worse when lying down. Chest, shoulders, and abdomen hurt when you press on them. Chest hurts more when I raise my arm.
ER ran a bunch of tests on me and found nothing. But I’m positive this has to be Heart Failure. Can anyone chime in?

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looking for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.

So I’ve been sick now for a week and a half . Started out with a itchy throat and dry cough then hot flashes and chills and really bad fatigue then came the bad coughing with phlegm & stuffy nose can’t smell or taste . My mental health is getting bad due to this viral infection . Thought I was getting better then the next hour I noticed I’m still sick feeling and really brings me down . Makes me feel like not my self? . Anyone here been experiencing this? Cause like damn .

Memory Transcription Subject: Yerron, Retired Farsul Exterminator, Hero of the Federation.
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 28, 5012.
A dry numbness has overcome me, my willingness to act superseded by both age and exhaustion. My ears remain deaf to the pandemonium outside - my only companion being a glass of alcohol and the glow on a holopad screen. My eyes remain trained on it and its contents - just numb. All of this time against the Arxur, only for the Humans to rear their ugly, front-facing heads again. The public might not know they ever existed … but it was my job to know. My retirement was soon to end … And I hadn’t even a moment to prepare! Like I expected some long dead species to show up! I would have waited if I did.
I take a sip from my glass, the spicy liquid numbing my throat going down. It was a gift given by my employees when I made my exit from public life not even a month ago. I had left with dignity, a hero laying down his arms when there was nothing left to fight. Me. Yerron, the Chief Exterminator. I had been the one to mop up the final remnants of the Arxur. I had revolutionized the art of Predator Prevention by developing the Slaughterhouse Complexes, it had been me that harrowed the Bissem predators long before they could become a problem. I stood atop a mountain of charred corpses, all leading up to this moment.
And it was for naught.
I stared again at the screen. For the past hours, almost every screen across the Federation had been hijacked. It presented images of the ancient Venlil heresy, showing exchange partners co-existing with the ravenous beasts. It all led up to an image of that traitor, shaking hands with her concubine.
Tarva.
I hoped the Venlil weren’t in on this again, lest they suffer the same deathless fate she was. These images looped incessantly alongside a message spoken in archaic Venlil.
“The human race sends its greetings once more. Peace would bring mutual benefits to us all. Should you choose to reject our kindness, we urge you to listen to the warnings of your mothers.”
It sounded almost true in all of its implied violence to me. They urged us not to fight whatever they had planned. But I wouldn’t let them do whatever they wished to us. We had broken many predatory backs before, and we’d do it again - my very existence the proof of our strength. My numerous scars and burns told that story in clear, of how the gentle prey of the Galaxy still reigned supreme.
The bottle was empty and I wasn’t drunk. I grunted and indulged in predation for one moment, throwing the screen across the room in an effort to shut it up. It cracked against the wall and silenced. Only then did I stand, taking in the luxury around me, before I turned to face the shrine erected to the Protector before me. It was a statuette, which depicted her standing over an Arxur - a dagger slitting its throat open. Around it, in many frames, were hundreds of Arxur teeth - all having been offered to her as tribute.
“What more could you possibly want from me?” I asked her. My fellows called me a fool for my belief. After all, the Farsul had special privileges to its atheism. But I thought them fools. My purpose here was divine. I knew it. This has to have been for something. I stared at the statue as if it would answer, before I shook my head slowly. I knew what I had to do.
I lurched from the room and towards my front door, with one thought on my mind.
That I had picked back up my sword, so soon after letting it go.

When I was in my early 20’s, I worked at a dog boarding facility.
It wasn’t a bad gig by any means. A lot of menial work, sure, but it paid the bills, and most of the time I was stationed at the front desk, which meant I avoided a lot of direct interaction with most of the dogs. Instead, I dealt with the owners (or “pet parents,” as we called them), which, while more my forte, was oftentimes arguably worse. At least with a dog, you can justify it being stupid.
Looking back on that night now, I would have much rather dealt with a person than the dog that I had encountered.
One of my duties when working the front desk in the evenings was cleaning the lobby and locking the front doors for the night. The opening shift would then come in the morning, unlock the doors, and the cycle would repeat. This is what I had been doing when I realized I had locked myself out of the building.
For a little additional context, the building itself had three front doors. Two led into a sort of breezeway before you got to the actual front door, which led into the actual building. The first two doors had to be locked and unlocked manually, but the main door locked and unlocked itself automatically on a timer. Normally, this was no issue. Every employee had a fob that, when pressed on a sensor near the door, would unlock it briefly to allow entry. But my fob was attached to my keys, which were tucked away in my locker within the building.
Usually, again, this would have been a minor inconvenience at worst. I could simply go around to the back door, bang on it for a minute or two, and wait for one of my coworkers to open the door. But, I had to stay behind that evening and finish cleaning the lobby, having been delayed by a few last-minute pickups and a particularly chatty client on the phone. We had been working with a skeleton crew, as new hires had been few and far between, and the girl I had been working with was tired and eager to go home. I let her go and told her I would lock up on my own.
I wish I had told her to stay.
Standing there in the breezeway, with nothing but the singular key to the two front doors, I was kicking myself. I’d fucked myself over this time, and now I was going to have to make the humiliating call for someone to come to the building and let me in. I could feel the weight of my phone in my pocket, and I slipped my hand into it, only to freeze in place.
It was not my phone, but my wallet.
Shit. It only then occurred to me that my phone was also still within the building. During the slower parts of the day, I had it out and had been texting my boyfriend at the time. Now it sat at the front desk, so close but so far at the same time. Not only had I locked myself out of the building, I had locked myself out of the building by myself, with no way to get help. In my overdramatic mind, suicide was starting to sound like a very good option.
There was a gas station about a mile or so away that I knew would be open and that, I guessed, was where I was going to have to go. There, I could presumably use a phone and get a hold of my roommate to come pick me up. In the morning, I could drop off the key and get my stuff.
I unlocked one of the two doors and stepped out, locking it once again behind me. I slipped the key into my pocket and started walking. It was already dark out and I was cold and eager to get this over with.
That’s when I heard the clicking of nails against the pavement, just barely audible.
My first instinct was that somehow, a dog had escaped. Sure, stray dogs weren’t uncommon, especially in the city that I lived in, but given the proximity to the building, I had feared that somehow, some way, a dog had managed to slip out under our noses and get out of the building. This would have taken either some incredible negligence on our end or some incredible intelligence on the dog’s, but it technically was possible.
I turned around and scanned the area, trying to locate the source of the sound. The parking lot was illuminated by a singular streetlight and the outside lights from the nearby buildings, and the dark of night was creeping in, thick and inky black. The noise came from further back, near the employee parking, which only fueled my suspicion that a dog had escaped. I really didn’t want to go back there in the dark, but I also wasn’t too keen on getting in trouble for letting a dog get out. I slowly crept over, keeping my ears and eyes open, trying to find the dog.
Finally, it stepped out from the shadows, standing near my car. It was a large, filthy Great Pyrenees, and we briefly had a staring match as I tried to figure out who it was. We had a few Pyrenees dogs come in, but it was mostly for daycare, and we didn’t have any in the building that night. I didn’t recognize this specific dog, either, but I hoped that it had a collar with a name and number on it, so that I could at least call the owner and let them know where I had found their animal whenever I got a chance. I knelt and extended my hand, making a kissy noise in the hopes of drawing it over.
“Hi, baby,” I said, using my “dog voice,” making it as soft and non-threatening as I could. “C’mere.” The dog took a few steps forward, eyes still focused on me.
That’s when I noticed the smell. Rotting meat and blood, strong enough that I could smell it from where I stood. The dog was reeking of decay. In my mind, I rationalized it. We were next to a highway, after all. No telling what kinds of roadkill it could have been getting into. I just did my best to push through it in favor of making sure the dog was alright.
I continued my beckoning for a few minutes, doing as much baby talk as I possibly could. I didn’t want to approach the dog myself, just in case it was nervous, but if I could just get a look at that collar…
After about five minutes of this, I stood up, watching it for another moment. It wasn’t a dog I recognized and I couldn’t get it to come over to me on its own terms, so my tired and still-panicked brain decided that it wasn’t my problem. I’d just let my manager know in the morning that I had seen a dog sniffing around and that I was fairly certain it wasn’t one that we’d ever had to stay with us. Then, maybe we could find it again, clean it up, and see if it belonged to anybody. The animal control in my city isn’t particularly well-regarded, so I figured it would be better to wait and see than to get them involved.
I turned around and started to walk away, back down to the road, when I heard the clicking of nails against the pavement once again. I turned around to see the dog moving closer once again. Its movements were jerky and uncoordinated, and that combined with its condition made me think it was injured, so I stopped.
The dog never stopped moving towards me, but when it noticed that I had stopped to look at it, it stopped as well. Then, staring straight at me again, it broke out into a sprint. Its legs flailed and its head lolled as it headed straight towards me, and my stomach dropped.
Have you ever been prey? Have you ever looked something in the eyes and just known, in some deep, primal portion of your brain, that it was going to kill you? It’s a funny feeling— all the cold, heavy dread that seeps into you, like liquid into cloth.
At that moment, my mind screamed at me to run. Panicked, I broke out into a sprint, heading straight for the door to the building. I had precious seconds before it would reach me, and I fumbled with the key as I hurriedly unlocked the door and swung it open, grabbing it and slamming it closed just before the dog made it. Breathing hard, I locked the door and stepped back, my eyes still on the dog.
All that separated us now was some metal and about half an inch of glass.
I could see the dog much clearer then. Its fur was filthy with dust and dirt, and its chest was caked with something dark that I could only hope wasn’t blood. Its eyes were bloodshot and glazed over, and from its mouth dripped saliva, thick and red.
The smell was even stronger at this point, nauseatingly strong.
Whatever was going on with this dog, it was bad. I wasn’t sure of what else to do. Even if I went through the opposite door, there was no way I’d be able to outrun it. I couldn’t make a break for my car because I didn’t have my keys, which were locked in the building alongside my fob and my phone.
No way out, no way to call for help. All I could do was sit and wait in the breezeway. I figured that eventually it would give up on me. It would have to, after all. And I figured once it moved on and was gone, I could haul ass to the highway and hitchhike over to the gas station. Shakily, I sat down, my gaze never leaving the dog. It stood there, watching me, and then it whined.
I say “whined,” but it was more like a long, drawn-out wheeze, like something trying to imitate the whine of a dog instead of doing it. It punctuated the noise with a sickening gurgle, and then it held its head down to hack up a mixture of blood, saliva, and phlegm, spitting it out onto the window before it. It oozed down the glass, leaving a slimy trail behind it, and I had to look away before the sight made me vomit.
I turned my head away from it entirely, trying to steady my breathing. Despite my best efforts, the fear and nausea were about to get the best of me anyway, and I curled in on myself, doing my best to keep everything down. I inched away from the door in favor of the one opposite, trying to put as much distance between myself and the dog as I could. I have no idea how long I stayed like that, curled up into a ball. But when I looked up, the dog was still there, watching me.
I was half-convinced that I was dreaming, or that the situation wasn’t real somehow. How would I even begin to try to convince somebody of what was happening right now? What would I tell my boyfriend? “Sorry, babe, I couldn’t get to the phone last night. Zombie dog and whatnot.” What started as simply a shitty end to the night had managed to turn into the car scene of Cujo, of all things. But the churning in my stomach and the cold biting into my skin was enough to reassure me that this was all very much real. There would be no waking up, no suddenly being pulled back into reality.
I dipped my head back down, trying to convince myself that I would be okay, when I heard its nails scrape against the glass. I jerked my head back up and looked over, inhaling sharply as the dog stood on its hind legs and rested its front ones against the glass. It started to scratch at the glass, trying to claw its way in, and I flinched at the sudden movement, scooting further back. I was all but pressed against the opposite door by this point, unable to keep my eyes off of the dog.
It scratched at the door for a minute longer, stopped, then started to scratch again. Scratch, stop, scratch, stop. This pattern repeated for at least fifteen minutes, and I had almost gotten used to it. The glass was thick enough that I was fairly certain it would withstand the dog’s scratching, and if it didn’t, I figured I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore after that.
When the noise had become a somewhat tolerable pattern, I curled back up into a ball, hoping to ride out this nightmare of a situation. The noise stopped altogether and I raised my head back up to see what had happened. The dog had turned around and was walking away.
The relief was like a two-ton weight being lifted off of my chest, and I stood up to watch the dog leave. My relief was short-lived, though, when it stopped and turned around. We were once again locked into a staring match.
A pretty common rule with animals is to never look them in the eye. I had been actively avoiding doing just that this entire time, but finally, my gaze slipped down and locked into the dog’s.
There was nothing there. It was empty, like someone had removed the dog’s original eyes and replaced them with glass.
The dog broke out into a sprint again, making me flinch and jump back. As it ran, it staggered and swerved as if it were drunk, but the distance between us was short. Within seconds, it had thrown itself against the glass of the window, slamming its head against it.
I screamed. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I screamed and huddled back in the corner and watched with terror as the dog backed up, ran, and threw itself at the door, over and over again. The door was, fortunately, holding steady. Despite the dog’s repeated attempts, it was standing strong, the only thing that entire night that had done me any good.
The dog was becoming agitated. It gargled and whined as it scratched at the door once again, seeming to give up on throwing itself against the door. I noticed it had injured itself in the process, the skin just above its eye having broken open and its mouth a bloody mess. Blood oozed out of the injuries and dripped onto the ground. Then, it backed up and tried one more time.
The world went silent for the briefest moment, and then there was a sickening crunch.
With its swerving, it must have made a head-on collision with the hinge, or maybe the brick beside the door, because the moment it landed, the dog’s skull busted open from the impact, splattering gore across the window. I screamed again, and this time, the urge to vomit was too strong. I threw up then and there in the corner as the sights and smells became too much for me. I don’t know how long I spent there, on all fours, coughing and gagging as I threw up the contents of my stomach, and when I had nothing left to expel, I dry-heaved.
I collapsed on the ground after that, gasping for air between sobs. I didn’t know if the dog was still alive and at that moment I didn’t really care. I didn’t even realize I had passed out until I heard voices echoing.
When I woke up, I was aware of three things: I was on the floor of the breezeway, there was a horrible taste in my mouth, and that people were talking.
As soon as I woke up, I remembered what had happened. Locking myself out. The dog. My whole body felt like dead weight. Even when my coworkers opened the door and came over to see what was going on, I couldn’t bring myself to stand. I was still afraid if I got up, it’d still be there with its busted skull and rotten stench, pawing and scraping and gurgling.
The smell must have hit my coworkers as well because the moment they stepped in, I could hear the “oh my god”s and “what happened”s. Then, I assume, one of them noticed the gore on the window. That’s when the voices became more frantic, and the more I became aware, the more I could pick out whose voice belonged to whom.
The voice of my coworker Holly was the closest to me. I could feel her hand reach down and shake me. She was calling my name, trying to rouse me, and I did my best to focus solely on her throughout the commotion.
“What is that?!” I recognized the voice of Mertle, who worked in the back and must have spotted the dog.
“Is that a dog? Oh my god, is it dead?” There was Carlos, who had worked the front desk the previous morning and had no doubt come in to do the same today.
Holly was shaking me harder now, and I moved in response just to let her know I was alive. “Eddie, are you okay?” I could hear her asking. I didn’t want to get up, or even respond, but I had no other choice.
I got up, slowly but surely, dragging myself into a sitting position as I opened my bleary eyes. Sure enough, there was Holly, looking back and forth from the window door to me. There was Mertle, hand over her mouth, and Carlos, staring dumbfounded out the window at the dog outside. Everyone was talking all at once, and to me, it was just a massive block of noise. The dog was dead, though. The dog was dead and that, at that moment, was all that mattered to me.
“What the fuck happened?” Carlos suddenly turned around, looking down at me.
The only thing I managed to croak out was “Sorry.”
The rest of that day was a haze to me. I remember going through the motions, but not really being “there”, if that makes any sense. I can remember little details- tossing my shirt in the washing machine in the back because it was covered in vomit, sitting with my manager as he argued with the local animal control to come to collect the dog's body, watching the camera footage of me sprinting across the parking lot with the dog in tow over and over again, like a broken record.
I never did find out what was wrong with that dog. My manager suspected some kind of rabies, but I don’t know.
I quit that job not too long after. The paranoia got too much for me. Any time I would go into the back of the building, where the dogs were, I would get that feeling again. That cold, sinking dread in my stomach that would make me want to hurl. I had to have someone sit up at the front desk with me as I locked the door, as I’d be too scared to go out into the breezeway by myself when it got dark.
It came to a head when a dog got off of its lead and tried to make a bolt for the door, as it usually would. Unfortunately, I had just so happened to be between the dog and the door, and the sight of it running at me sent me into such a panic I collapsed to the ground and shook. After that, I was gone. I don’t think anybody blamed me.
I’ve put it all away in my mind, both the place and the incident. I try not to think about it too much.
I’m always mindful of my keys now, though, just in case.
Prey never stops being prey.

Hello and welcome to a very special installment of The Great Spice Off! What is The Great Spice Off?
I love the scent of Old Spice, so much so that it's the only aftershave I use as I don't really feel a need to splash anything else on. But, as we all know, Old Spice no longer makes shaving soap. They do still make a cream but that's hardly a great soap and it doesn't actually smell like Old Spice. As such my plan is to test out all the Old Spice options that are out there on as many bases as possible both to try out a variety of bases from different soapmakers and to report back to you on who really nails the scent.
I'll be shaving three times with each soap, using a variety of brushes and razors, and blades. Yes, I know that means it won't be exactly scientific but this is going to take a while and I want to use all my other shit too. Soaps will be rated on a few factors and given points from 1-5 for each.

• Oldness: How much does the soap smell like OG Old Spice. This is the more analytical scent analysis and I'm comparing to an OG Old Spice aftershave I have and the Shulton aftershave from India.
• Spiciness: This is the je ne sais quois of Old Spice. Does the soap make me feel the nostalgia, warmth, and whatever it is about the scent that works. Is there something special about it that makes it stand out? Does it invoke a memory or make a new one? The most subjective of this list.
• Lather: You know, can I make a shave soap out of it.
• Shave: How's it work on the ol' face while shaving.
• Post: How's the scent profile after the event. How does my face feel.

Crowne & Crane The Spice

And so we enter (for now) into a strange little corner of Old Spice dupery that I honestly wouldn't have even entered if I had read the description of The Spice before ordering it long ago. Also, if Crowne & Crane hadn't named the soap something pretty inaccurate. Also, also, if I hadn't accidentally picked up a second dupe of the scent recently. Yes, The Spice is not an Old Spice dupe but an Old Spice Limited Edition (LE) dupe.
Record Scratch. Double Take. Wuuuuuuuh!???
So you're asking yourself what the heck is an Old Spice LE. Well, despite what most think, Old Spice has had many scents over the years and almost none of them are riffs or new twists on their original Old Spice scent. Old Spice, the company/brand, made a plethora of scents throughout the history of producing Old Spice that, while all fell in the kind of old fashioned scenting category, had nothing to do with what we think of as Old Spice. Old Spice LE was one of these scents. From the dating I can find online, it was released sometime in the early 90s and stuck around for a chunk of that decade and possibly into the 2000s. It's also possible it was a scent released every couple of years as I can see a few different bottle versions. I don't actually know that much about it, have never smelled the original myself, and the Internet is not actually full of Old Spice product history let alone a defunct aftershave from the early 90s.
Whatever the history, what appears to be consistent is that it came in a clear bottle and was called Limited Edition. It also featured a base of amber, cedar, and woods with supporting notes of cardamom, lavender, moss, and jasmine, and citrus top notes. As you can see, aside from the citrus, it doesn't have all the much in common with Old Spice but that hasn't stopped a fragrance seller from selling a dupe of the discontinued scent for those who may still be looking for it. And so, there are soapers out there who pick this scent up for whatever reason instead of actual Old Spice. Actually, there are only two and Crowne & Crane are the only ones I can find doing it intentionally (more on that in a future review). They're also naming it The Spice, which is a little misleading considering the only spice scent in it is cardamon and given the lavender, citrus, and moss present its clearly intended to be somewhat of a fougère. The Spice, I think we can all agree, is not the name anyone would give a fougère.
So why then am I even reviewing it? That is like asking why do people climb Everest? Why do athletes push their body to the extremes? Why does the woodchuck chuck wood? If these questions could be answered then perhaps I could answer why I am reviewing this. But they can't be.
Crowne & Crane was founded in 2016 by Karl and Liz, whose last names I can't find so we'll call them Karl Crowne and Liz Crane. Karl was an enthusiast it looks like before going into the ol' soapmaking business and, being founded pre-2020, is officially an ol' timer in the artisan soap industry. Despite that longevity they aren't really all that popular around these parts with u/PhilosphicalZombie and u/loudmusicboy literally being the only two folks who appear to use them regularly if at all. I'd say that's maybe because they're not just a shave soap company but Stirling isn't either so that logic kind of flies out the window. Then again, we're a bunch of grown men and women telling other people how we removed hair from our bodies on a daily basis. Logic means nothing here.
Crowne & Crane have two bases, vegan and tallow. Most of their soaps are in tallow only and that's what The Spice comes in so that's what we're working with here. Of note is a commitment to organic, humanely-raised cows for the beef tallow, which is always a plus in my book (and sustainably sourced palm oil). The soap itself is kind of dry and chalky, not in a bad way and it wasn't hard or falling apart. It's a soft, dry soap, which are not contradictory things. The base is made up of Potassium Tallowate, Sodium Tallowate, Potassium Stearate, Sodium Stearate, Aloe Vera Juice, Potassium Cocoate, Sodium Cocoate, Phthalate-Free Fragrance, Potassium Shea Butterate, Sodium Shea Butterate, Kokum Butter, Sodium Lactate, Glycerin, Lanolin, Tussah Silk. Nothing to much to comment on here except I can't stop saying the word tussah over and over in my head. It's a weird word and now it doesn't feel real I've said it so much. Tu... ssah. Tooo suuuhhh...
The labeling is a nice vintage boat symbol, which, again, is a bit misleading given the LE branding was very much a modern (for the 90s) Old Spice look, not the classic schooner branding of the OG Old Spice. If you weren't paying attention (*cough* me *cough*) you might just order this thinking you got an Old Spice dupe and open the lid to find you most assuredly did not. Well, open the lid is a bad description as I bought their 3 oz puck option instead of the 5 oz jar and it came wrapped in paper. 3 oz, by the way, is a great mid-price option that gives you more than a tiny sample but not a full plastic tub. I'd be perfectly happy to have other shaving companies offer this... please... please... there's so much soap under my sink. So... much... soap.
(Sidenote: if you are looking to get their soaps, do it quick as they're going on hiatus during a move in two days!)
Oldness: 0
As a scent not designed to smell like Old Spice this one knocks it out of the park. In fact, it does such a great job not smelling like Old Spice I'd put it up there with some of the greatest scents that don't smell like Old Spice ever made. Have a scent that doesnt's smell like Old Spice that you love? This one smells as much not like Old Spice as that one does! If you're looking for something that doesn't smell like Old Spice but has the word Spice featured in its name and the words "Old" and "Spice" in the description next to each other than this is the soap for you.
Spiciness: 3
This is actually a pretty solid scent even if its called The Spice but isn't really a spicy scent at all. It's definitely a vintage scent, though, and reminds me a bit of Seaforth! Spiced but not as good. Because of that I'm going to say that it still captures a bit of that classic feel that Old Spice gives you even if its a scent from the 90s, a decade that has yet to fall into the "classic" zone and thus still feels like everything from it was cringe (including teenage me).
Lather: 5
What an absolutely brilliant lather The Spice kicks up. From the moment water hits it turning it into a thick prot-lather to the gloriously shiny conclusion, it's just a pleasure to lather. The soap is super thirsty, which can often lead to some dialing issues but I never had those aside from having to add a lot of water to both my larger scoop shave and my medium scoop. You don't need a lot of soap to get this going big and it's really easy to get there and looks great the entire time. If you were going to make an ad about shave soap -- as we all dream to do -- and needed a pretty lather to build up this would be a great choice.
Shave: 3
The Spice offers an incredible cushion of soap that can tackle even the most aggressive razor, making it feel barely there on your skin. However, it is, at best, mid-tier on its slickness with limited residual slickness too. As I reduced the amount of soap I used on each shave I figured I'd eventually hit a lather that was both full of cushion and slickness, but even on my final shave with the least amount of lather I wasn't too impressed with the glide provided. There's slickness there, it's not like dragging some sort of pillowy sandpaper over your face or anything but despite the copious amounts of water I added it never truly peaked.
Post: 2
The Spice's Old Spice LE scent isn't exactly complimentary with either my Indian Old Spice for the vintage one. It's not an afront to the nostrils or anything (sometimes I picture what nostrils being afronted would look like and it weird me out) but it ain't great. It probably plays a bit better with the more floraly vintage spice if I was forced to choose one by some deranged wet shaving person forcing people to shave with stuff. The soap also left my skin feeling a little sticky for some reason, like there was a layer of it still on there. That dissipated quickly but it was an odd sensation.
Final Verdict: 13
Crowne & Crane might be one of my favorite soaps to lather as it's easy to do, looks fantastic, lathers big, and just drinks up the water. It's just kind of fun working it into a lather and for someone who appreciates the process of wetshaving that's a big deal. The shave doesn't quiet live up to the lather, though, despite some really great cushion. Where it really disappoints is the post shave where it not only still doesn't smell like Old Spice (even if it was never trying to) but also left my face feeling a little icky. No one likes an icky face, just ask .
Previous Great Spice Offs:

1. 1940s Old Spice Shaving Soap in Vintage Mug (9)
2. 1973-91 Old Spice Shaving Soap (7)
3. Old Spice Shaving Cream (Original) (12)
4. Master Soap Creations Vintage Spice (19)
5. Black Ship Grooming Classic (17)
6. OSP Old Gold (19)
7. Chiseled Face Groomatorium Trade Winds (17)
8. Wholly Kaw Twice as Spice (17)
9. Barrister and Mann Barrister's Reserve Spice (21)
10. Mama Bear Aged Spice (10)
11. MERShaving Old Timer Spice (20)
12. Soap Commander Endurance (20)
13. Signature Soaps Novus Spice (17)
14. Hoffman's Shave and Soap Company Burn the Ships (19)
15. Phoenix Artisan Accoutrements Cold Spice (15)
16. Hendrix Classics & Co Commodore (20)
17. Ginger's Garden Old Spice Type (15)
18. Lisa's Natural Herbal Creations Mariner (10)
19. Stone Field Shaving Company Ltd. No. 37 (18)
20. Cooper & French Old Goat (19)
21. The Holy Black Artisan Line Shaving Soap (21)
22. Stirling Soap Co. Stirling Spice (20)
23. Van Yulay Spicy Man (10)
24. Pinnacle Grooming The Good Ship OS (15)
25. Mystic Water Soap Windjammer (14)
26. The Village Soap Smith Old Spice (Type) (14)
27. Cloud Shave "Unscented" (13)
28. Wet the Face Spices From the Sea (17)
29. Artifact Soapworks Old Spice (Type) (15)
30. DentonMajik Ole Fife (21)
31. Phoenix Artisan Accouterments Oud Spice (17)
32. Lativ Natural Skin Revival Shaving Soap Old Spice (8)

Special Editions

• Summer Break Soaps Remote Learning
• Spearhead Shaving Company Seaforth! Spiced
• Eleven Shaving Unscented/Hendrix Classics & Co Commander

I'm also looking for the below soaps if you've got any you're willing to sell/trade/donate:

• Wild West Shaving Co. Snake Oil
• Wickam Spice Trade
• Occult Grooming Essentials Modern Spice
• Fougare Salem

I already have these soaps that I have not reviewed yet:

• Bundubeard Reijger
• Bundubeard Drommedaris
• Bundubeard De Goede hoop
• Areffa Soap The Sea Son

When I was 16 years old, I took a sip from a water fountain after another kid . Shortly thereafter, I noticed a surge in saliva and mucus production, coupled with an incessant urge to cough and spit. Despite displaying no signs of illness, this discomfort persists, particularly on days when my throat feels congested, making swallowing challenging. It's noteworthy that I never encountered this issue prior to drinking from the fountain, and I have no known allergies.I also remember the kid eexhibiting similar systomps aswell whenever i did see him.

Hello. I'm not sure if I have a mild flu or bad cold but I'm really struggling breathing when I cough. The problem is this cough is from a flu/ cold I got 3 weeks ago and now I have another cold and my cough has gotten really bad the past 2-3 days and its still getting worse. It was a dry cough and now its chesty. I'm almost vomiting when I cough. I also have zero appetite and when I do eat I feel nauseous after a few bites. I have hardly eaten in days. I need this to go away but my new cold has made it worse. I'm worried I'm going to end up really ill with this. How can I get better fast 😞

Maybe about two years before covid hit (either 2018 or 2017), I started experiecing a chronic cough. It was pretty bad at the time,

• It happened every day, some days worse than others, always dry
  
• It didn't show up at any particular time, usually throughout the entire day however for the first time ever last week it stopped me from sleeping- I kept coughing while sleeping which kept waking me up. This has never happened before until then, and hasn't happened since then.
  

I went to the doctor back in 2018 to figure out what was wrong, at the time they just concluded that it was allergies, which was strange. I knew I have bad seasonal allergies, but a cough has never been a symptom of mine. It's usually always sneezing and a runny nose, or itching. Why would a cough suddenly appear?
For years I pushed this off as just allergies until around 2021. I still felt like it wasn't allergies and the current medicine I was using wasn't helping. I went through extensive testing at the time from some of the top specialists in NYC. I got a chest x-ray which came back negative, there were no issues. I also had a pulmonary function test then at the time which actually came up strange to the doctors. I was told my breathing was irregular and that was it. I also had a blood test which didn't show anything at the time other than I had anemia (which was also unexplained. I used to always think it was an iron defeciency, but my doctor told me my iron levels seemed to be normal but I still was anemic)
We tried a bunch of different inhalers, none of which worked including:

• The famous blue asthma inhaler (did nothing for me)
  
• Ellipta (the inhaler with the top that flips up, didn't really do anything)
  
• Symbicort (didn't fix the cough, but I remember at the time it helped me breath a lot better)
  

We ended up running into a dead end again and they sent me to an allergy specialist who concluded the obvious, that I had allergies. Again my cough was just written off as allergies. and I was given a perscription allergy pill (cetrizine) which of course helped my allergies but the cough was still there. I trusted this judgement for years even though the cough never disappeared.
Which brings us to last month-
My cough only rarely appears these days, I don't take allergy medicine, and surprisingly even though it is still a reoccuring symptom, it's not the main symptom anymore. Now as of last week I've been expericing really bad moments where I can't breathe. I used to have these moments last year and I just thought I was having a panic attack without panicking (no my life isn't stressful at all), now suddenly they've become a LOT more frequent and noticeable which ended up worrying me. Now my breath feels like it's only at 70-80% what it used to be, my chest started hurting a lot more (stinging feeling in the center and the heart area, and occasionally burns. This has happened every day almost since around this time last month.
This prompted me to go to a local doctor who ran a chest xray, which showed up normal, no dark spots etc, and a simple lung function test. The doctor noticed from the PFT that my breathing was off and there were slight signs of inflamation. The doctor concluded that it was bronchitis, which also made sense. I was perscribed Serentide which really helped a lot with my breathing although it didn't stop random flare ups where I couldn't breathe which happened after I ate and laid down.
My breathing was fixed but the random flare ups worried me still so I wanted to go to a doctor to see how I could manage them. Since I'm in a new country now, I went to another doctor, showed them my results from the previous tests, and for some reason, had another chest x-ray. They told me that it didn't really look like bronchitis and everything was relatively normal. At first they thought it could have been asthma, but I told them asthma treatment didn't really work for me so they also decided to test out allergy treatment. It has been about a few days since they've perscribed Singulair and they told me to stop using the inhaler I was given.
Currently I feel like my breathing has slightly gotten slightly worse since dropping the inhaler and the flare ups haven't stopped, but maybe the effects haven't set in yet.
What are my next steps? What tests should I get? Does anyone have any idea what possibly could be wrong? I don't want to push this off as just allergies again and then have an even worse symtpom years ago because the allergy diagnosis was wrong.
Tl;dr symptoms:

• Chronic cough that has gotten a little bit better
  
• breathlessness/shortness of breath at usually after eating and laying down when I feel bloated, but also appears at random times (not really the same as being out of breath from exercising, and I also don't experience it after doing physical tasks such as walking up a large flight of stairs)
  
• Chest pains (sharp stinging in the center and heart area, and slight burning)
  

Additional symptoms that may or may not have anything to do with my condition:

• When I woke up, I felt like there was something stuck in my throat and I had to burp a lot. Also my throat hurts every time I yawn currently. (I put my symptoms into ChatGPT and it told me these were symptoms of either GERD or Throat Cancer? I don't know much about GERD but it also sounds believable)
  
• For the last two weeks my voice was hoarse, but that could have been due to the inhaler. Now that I'm not taking the inhaler this symptom is gone
  

Notes:

• I do not smoke, but I used to hang out around smokers (not anymore)
  
• Age 27M
  
• I have sleep apnea which could be genetic since it's in the family
  
• I used to be an unhealthy eater until recently, however I am not extremely overweight, and I have been eating healthy for the past two months
  
• Height: 178 cm
  
• Weight: 73 kg
  
• Currently in Bangkok but I'm American for resources if you have any.
  

Species: Dog
Age: 13
Sex/Neuter status: M, neutered
Breed: Beagle mix
Body weight: 48
History: 1 month flu-like symptoms; began with reverse sneezing, now includes typical coughing, a lot of mucus, occasional watery eye; Vet had him on 14 day dox, has extended that to 28 (we are at the tail end of this)
Clinical signs: cough, mucus, watery eye on occasion
Duration: 5 weeks
Your general location: New England
Links to test results, X-rays, vet reports etc: Vet assumes respiratory infection.
WRITE UP: About 4-5 weeks ago, my 13 year old beagle-mix developed the "reverse sneeze." It progressed into some typical coughing as well as a lot of mucus. Vet put him on 14 day doxycycline. He seemed to get better after a few days, but regressed. Vet added another 14 day cycle. We're at the end of that, and unfortunately, he seems to be about the same or worse.
His appetite has been fine, but he hasn't been touching his dry food (occasionally if mixed with warm water) and recently stopped showing interest in wet food. He'll still eat other things like carrots, bread, and still begs for table scraps. So he's clearly interested in food.
His energy has been pretty good, such that if he gets excited he'll still run around the house, he'll bound outside, but he is definitely less energetic than his normal self (even at 13).
My vet wants to try X-rays with sedation next. I have no problem with this, but wanted to check in here to see if others have recently been through a sickness like this. Did you try anything different? Did your vet give you any more insight?
I feel like this is that mystery canine flu that has been circulating, though in our one vet appointment they didn't 'mention that (this is before I knew about it so I didn't ask).

New to asthma, so a little back story I've never had breathing problems my entire life, but I noticed that 1-2 times a year colds would progress into acute bronchitis and I would fully recover from it. At the age of 15 I began to work out and my sicknesses stopped progressing into acute bronchitis, it would just be slight congestion for the next 3 years up until now (18F). I was not aware that I had mild asthma, so in April 2023 I had suppressed a cough and some mucus, I'm not sure if that was the trigger but it had turned into 1 years worth of mental pain, dry coughing, and feeling like I can't breathe. The doctors told me it was psychogenic after they said that my ct and xray were normal but i can hear gurgling coming out of my airways. Every time I wake up I am constantly congested so I use a nasal rinse. There is always yellow like secretions and the lingering cough + after initial infection goes away is always viral induced. Exercising, cold weather, every other thing in my life has never triggered any asthmatic symptoms. I went to see an asthmatic doctor and he told me I could have viral induced/ bronchial asthma and it just hasn't been treated properly. The cough back in april 2023 lasted for 3 months until it finally started clearing up in the right lung but not the left then I got covid jan 2024 and strep throat march 2024. I'm so tired I just want to know if finally getting the right meds will give me my lungs back.

28 (F) 5’2” SW:212 CW :203.7 Goal: 170
So today is day 5 of phentermine and I am 8.3 pounds down. Only side effects I’ve had so far is dry mouth and constipation. I haven’t really had much of an appetite but I try to at least eat something full of protein and drink a protein shake. I began weight lifting and 30 min cardio Friday. Constipation was the biggest con with not passing any bowls for 4 days. I tried magnesium citrate and threw it up about an hour after taking it . I tried milk of magnesia yesterday afternoon and it got the job done !!! I went to the bathroom 7-8 times and every time I felt more and more relieved. The dry mouth is a little annoying and makes me feel like I have to cough so I’m constantly drinking water but other than those two side effects I feel great and can’t wait to see the scale move more!