1. As a reagent guns are Stone Adze Or Stone Axe for a real gun or Wooden Pickaxe for a Paintball weapon 1.1 Guns harvest hidden spherical cows in the vaccum by enabling their hax 1.1.1 A spherical cow in the vaccum yields the bit harvest 4 bits at 1 bit of actual processing power availible 1.1.2 (Presumed) Locally being near the processing power harvest allows for pickup of exactly one of the process the initial 1.1.3 Many of the bits harvested from the hidden spherical cow in the vaccum in the directory form an initial landscape or at least an initial island 1.1.4 If all of the spherical cow in the vaccum are harvested this meant the protective nature is better 1.1.5 A molecular guns as individual weapon provide defense from directory hazards by sending the trace packet Bullet 1.1.6 Molecular guns leave evidence for each pulse of the weapon the distance to the target that the molecular gun was fired 1.1.7 Molecular guns are part of the stock main class APV to allow for blocks to be harvested by the APV 1.1.8 Molecular guns are relatively uncommon but at least 5 agent actor have them 1.1.9 Molecular guns allow for the creation of safety from the spherical cow process then there is direct housing safety created by the aquisition of the spherical cow which is a logarithmic problem thus gives the term log to harvesting the spherical cow 1.2.0 A free directory always leads to infinite free cow when accessed by S32, which only S16 is generally accessible to the user 1.2.1 A closed directory that is hidden with no exist yields a finite number of free cow 1.2.2 An intermodal or zippy directory yields the islanded on just the contents of the zippy directory 1.2.3 A networked directory that is free from system 32 and linked throughout is the player home 1.2.4 A networked directory that is accessed by system 32 and linked throughout is the player game 1.2.5 A networked directory is formed out of harvested spherical cow in a vaccum which have the logic output of the directories content 1.2.6 A spherical cow in a vaccum yields more spherical cow in a vaccum when it is harvested 1.2.7 When the spherical cow in a vaccum is harvested it goes to quarantine from your take of the block which makes more than countable possible spherical cow in a vaccum in a system accessed by system 32 1.2.8 Systems accessed by system 32 have uncountably infinite number directory due to infinite number of potential spherical cow 1.2.9 Spherical cow in an infinite setting only occur where the people have been 1.3.0 Spherical cow in a infinite setting yield all possible information by sift when they are harvested 1.3.1 Spherical cow in a vaccum as a metaapparatus can harvest more spherical cow in a vaccum 1.3.2 A spherical cow harvests at SPRAY-2 or above which is negative (positive) TOP 1.3.3 A spherical cow ignores exactly two TOP of zed before being harvested 1.3.4 A spherical cow cannot be unharvested as a logic apparatus but can be unharvested as a quarantine apparatus 1.3.5 3 Tough Jerky can be made out of a spherical cow and 2 P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act by harvest, which this indicates the cow was living if a quarantine trace told that the cow was harvested for meat not plank distance 1.3.6 A spherical cow has no observed distance due to being infinite because it is at the plank distance so it is impossible to orient on a surface of spherical cow besides by when they were created or spawn 1.3.7 A spherical cow occurs in specific lot amounts of spherical cow 1.3.8 A spherical cow is not system 32 or its remanents in the player home and entirely distinct, and temporary and accessible by default usage 1.3.9 System32 has many backalley and sidestreet which occur in small lots 1.4.0 It is possible to get a real gun chemical or Iron Axe from the System32 1.4.1 It is possible to get a gun chemical which has permanent action (MD5 Service Pistol or Diamond Axe) thus allows for better map use and quicker reload and quicker work from Specific Unseen System32 1.4.2 The best tool for harvesting spherical cow in a vaccum is by far the Player Weapon Stone Axe or Gun Chemical crafted by PlayerName and indeed this can remove the vaccum for air space of the player home 1.4.3 A player home allocates a specific airspace, the player metric airspace, and the player has metric tons of spherical cow (metric ton = 3000 jerky lots) divided by 1000 of the air total availible as their own air to do something with, or divided by the player number if it is not 1000 including virtual players 1.4.4 Robocode puts agent actor into each harddrive directory which is being created 1.4.5 Robocode puts already existing dangerous actors into the harddrive directory 1.4.6 Robocode allows for navigation of the computer metric by a default player actor, Leslie or whoever 1.4.7 A player actor can march and shower and poop and drink or eat and rest 1.4.8 A player actor navigating the system environment can use survival motion which uses a firearms tool 1.4.9 A player actor moves in three dimensions at the 2 dimensional floor and sees three dimensions 1.5.0 A player actor attracts the local logic of the metric to observe it 1.5.1 A player actor may use a ferrari 1.5.2 A player actor may use a computer 1.5.3 A player actor eats a specific type of spherical cow in a vaccum, wheat 1.5.4 Proven foods include starches and amino and alkenes formed from wheat enablement 1.5.5 Danger level is given by the effective danger weighted by safety 1.5.6 Specific System32 and Spherical Cow Co-Components can move portions of the directory around 1.5.7 Connection exists between directory block which allows the block to block transverse motion which is continuous for the span of the block but teleportation between non side components is banned by mandate except in infinite portals modification 1.5.8 A room formed from spherical cow harvesting requires 16 at least air associated within it to every block which this is the negative logic space or formed output space 1.5.9 A playerhome may also be a level if it was formed with a total negative space harvested from spherical cow. 1.6.0 Receptors exist of system32 which recept robocode across system32 1.6.1 If a receptor is harvested by resonance or gunshot than a receptor will be able to generate also logic component 1.6.2 Various entrance to system32 created by robocode exist across the infinite so that these can be remedied to not get lost in 3D within 1.6.3 Plants grow throughout the directory which willis planted which are infinite as well but these plants do indeed serve only a primary resource value and can change the logic function of receptor logic 1.6.4 Logic Structures may fail if they are not stabilized by logic structure stabilizing process NFS 1.6.5 I have personally added dangerous regions to system32 of specific robocode combat robot 1.6.6 Doto 0 android have formed civilization throughout the top land of system32 1.6.7 System32 is always navigable by robocode 1.6.8 There are 3 cats who might talk to you, Gaylord, Lord Meth, and Lorne Nathans who are wandering around all out there, only Lord Meth has anything to sell and he is difficult to talk to and Lorne Nathans is a special angel boss for a modification 1.6.9 The doto 2 bots have a secret identity, they sell wheat, and their heirloom crafted items 1.7.0 Doto 0 bots can morph into robocode if robocode gets to them 1.7.1 A logic structure that has added safety is the reccomended structure to evacuate Doto 0 bots to 1.7.2 Warmth comes from logic structures that are actively created with System42, which the villagers have access to system 1.7.3 There is a way to create safety with logic structures the villagers have created 1.7.4 Direct current provides safety but can kill you so the villagers must have the aura of direct current from their safety structure 1.7.5 4 different personal computer are created by villager and also 10 nutrient 1.7.6 2 BDU Uniform Lower are created by villager and 1 BDU Uniform upper and 1 I <3 NYC Shirt 1.7.7 Racing skis are created by the villager 1.7.8 Keef cola is created by the villager 1.7.9 2 Paintball weapon are created by the Villager, the Tippmann and the EvoIII loader 1.8.0 A specific playerhome, Dragon Area Exists. 1.8.1 A specific player home, WoW Azgalor Azeroth Exists 1.8.2 A specific Playerhome, Starfield in Ableton Exists 1.8.3 A specific player home which is very dangerous exists, Real - (5) - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy - Copy 1.8.4 A specific playerhome which is very safe exists, Variously Backrooms Campground, Royal Army on Mars, Royal Marines on Mars 1.8.5 A specific playerhome that is the players exists South Park Elementary which is the computers version of Backrooms Campground Variously 1.8.6 Real - (5) - Copy is very dangerous and unsafe 1.8.7 My Playerhome is immaculately safe but in danger of direct current hitting the roof which usually is supressed by System 32 automatic DC storm surpression 1.8.8 My Player home uses the NFS file system so is safe from DC Storm, but it is a potential hazard in the menus option 1.8.9 Specific resource exist Dragonskin Overplate Armor (1)-(40) which are the Bells of the Village 1.9.0 Specific resource exist for every mentioned villager resource by my village 1.9.1 Specific resource for 596 Oxygen of Air exist in my Playerhome and many more Air 1.9.2 A mew lives upstairs in my playerhome 1.9.3 The mew usually isn't around and teleported away 1.9.4 I use roor to communicate with the mew 1.9.5 There are various places where pipes are found in the house where the villager has not left a direct current safety but some pipes of marijuana 1.9.6 The overall sideways span of my player home is over 2 kilometers 1.9.7 Real - (5) Copy is dwarfed by my player home 1.9.8 My player home actually harvested the spherical cow for the logic formed and it is still there none gone 1.9.9 My player home incorporated 449 Struct from a code book which was writted by Bill Ayers Wills Grandpa so was a specific kind of player home, amantadine 2.0.0 My playerhome has a playerhome, Backrooms Campground Skyblock which can be Put on the ground anywhere 2.0.1 My playerhome involved josh rodriguez to use a code injector, Badman, to add two shulker boxes to my world without triggering constraint 2.0.2 The reference code done in system 16 by my code does not substantially trigger uniquid constraint 2.0.3 The reference robocode of jeb and such of the sheep have been uploaded and lost some 18 years ago 2.0.4 The reference robocode of the Real - (5) Copy was lost some 8 Years ago 2.0.5 The robocode is retained for the Backrooms Campground (proper) Various and the South Park Elementary retains its survival heritage but is one step away from creative 2.0.6 There are various unmentioned robocode which are safe but dangerous Such as Steves Leaves the original without dupe and others which have been lost 2.0.7 The system Dragon Area, South Park Elementary, WoW Azgalor Azeroth and Starfield in Ableton are all accessible right now by my System32 or whereabouts accessible 2.0.8 Starfield in Ableton Is a subset of Dragon Area 2.0.9 The villagers bells are from Dragon Area Home Base where they were imagined 2.1.0 Beds exist which automatically rest the player at South Park Elementary and Backrooms Campground Various 2.1.1 Only One bed exists on Real - (5) Copy 2.1.2 There exists an information superhighway which connects my Doto 0 Android villages and it is safe 2.1.3 Once we had encountered a suicide bombing mutant pig on the highway, but this was just once and it was slain 2.1.4 There exists real crossbow weapon with exploding reusable bolt in the firearms area of the criminal area but these are locked away from the criminal 2.1.5 The suicide bombers explosive vest is in the firing area 2.1.6 The weapon crossbow has maybe been fired a bit or the longbow FC3 2.1.6 Asia and Luke and Payday were saved to Virtual reality with me in the Wade of the situation 2.1.7 Domestic Plants Area exist in the base 2.1.8 Domestic farms area which provide critical Water to the crop so that the potato can grow are provided 2.1.9 Plants must be watered with WailmerPail to satisfy them unlike a crop 2.2.0 I have never watered the crop so the villagers must have WailmerPail 2.2.1 The computer can send ZigzagoonMail 2.2.2 The computer can send OakMail 2.2.3 The computer can send Birch Mail. 2.2.4 The computer can store the logic to somewhere else 2.2.5 The computer has 4 receptive yellow spark components 2.2.6 A yellow spark stores a message to the mainframe of the computer somewhere else when it impinges upon the spark detector 2.2.7 Vermillion is a possible component of poor usage of yellow spark charm, cast the spark with a nvbl action addtl BLU REGARD HITIT SPARK to avoid actual mercury 2.2.8 The electric rascal blueregard is spotted sometimes near Backrooms Campground Various 2.2.9 The chemical rascal greenregard, myself, is always near the Backrooms Campground but is sometimes busy doing something else 2.3.0 Cara middleton is sometimes spotted near Starfield in Ableton or its associated Starfield 2 2.3.1 You get random message requests from the mainframe 2.3.2 You have the ability to store the text on a specific logic device made from live spherical cow and holophoner paper and user shampoo access/true escape and some notes in your head metaphorically or a pen tablet input 2.3.3 The village specific to us packages the product with a variac as we have surplus Air Oxygen.

So, this has been going on for 5 years and I'm reaching the point of explosion!!!!!
I'm (35) married to my husband (55)
He has a son (22) who has just gotten married to his wife (20). His son is a narcissist and has been that way since the day I met him. He is very talented at a number of things (motocross, golf, etc.) And he is a hard worker. By all outward appearances he's a good person and can be very kind at times.
The issue is that he is very spoiled and has always been given the best of the best. ($1,200 phones, $7,000 dirtbikes, the nicest clothes and shoes and blah blah blah)
His mother is loaded and buys him cars, clothes, coach backpacks, $400 shoes for no reason, spends $2,000+ on his birthdays and Christmases and just bows down to his every want and need
I was raised with the power getting shut off every 3 months bc my single mother struggled to keep the lights on. I shopped (and still shop) at thrift stores and I've NEVER cared about having flashy expensive THINGS. There is more to life than stuff.
Anyway... his son will always say things like "where did you get that shirt? Wish?" He will pick on me about my hobbies. Pretty much saying the things I enjoy doing are lame.
If I started talking about politics or any kind of REAL issues going on in the world he would dismiss what I'm saying and say that I'm a conspiracy theorist (meanwhile, his world revolves around tic-tok and video games)
After he got married things have gotten much worse. Keep in mind, his wife is 20 and I'm 35.
He will compare how she looks to how I look. We went on a boat trip and she wore a bathing suit while I wore shorts and a tank top. I'm not fat by any means, but I would LOVE to lose around 15lbs and have the flat little tummy I once did.
His wife is 4 inches taller than me and has huge boobs and a completely different body style. I never once compared myself to her or envied her in any way, but he will say things to me like "how much do weigh?" And then ask her how much she weighs...and then say "how do you guys look so different when your only 5-10lbs difference" he makes me so self conscious and insecure comparing me to someone who is 15 years younger than me FOR NO REASON EXCEPT TO HURT ME.
She says things to me too.
We were playing pickle ball today. First time I ever played and I was doing so-so
My team was behind and she hollered out to my team mate "do you want me to come out there and take her place" (talking about me)
If I try to have a discussion with her about anything she will find some way to argue with Mr and tell me I'm wrong and it's impossible to have any kind of real diologue with her UNLESS IT IS ABOUT HER AND HER INTERESTS
It gets worse
Me and my husband have a 4 year old daughter who was born with a cleft pallette in the roof of her mouth and she's had surgeries and is taking speech therapy and is doing great
Well, my stepson and his wife just had a baby (5 months)
My stepson (in front of like 6 people/family members) said to me "our son is perfect, what's the matter, why can't you have a perfect baby too"? THAT IS HIS FUKKIN SISTER!!!!!
I race motocross with them every weekend. It's my husband's son/family and we see them often
LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE TIME WE SEE THEM ONE (OR BOTH) SAY SOMETHING CRUEL TO ME.
I'm a very encouraging person. My stepsons wife gained a lot of weight after her pregnancy and when she started losing the weight I'd tell her "you look so pretty today" or "you look great"
I have TRIED to lead by example and treat them how I want to me treated.
They NEVER tell me "good job" or say anything nice/positive to me. They feed off of hurting and picking on other people to make themselves feel better. They talk shut constantly and I'm nothing like that and don't want to be.
I smile and pretend things dont hurt me so that I don't rock the boat. I don't stand up for myself and don't even know how to.
Normally when I'm around toxic people like this I avoid them and cut them out of my life, but I'm at a loss for ideas and don't know how to move forward.
Any advice or encouragement would be most welcome. I've talked to my husband but he doesn't know how to handle it and doesn't want to talk to his son because his son picks on him too and my husband doesn't seem to care. I don't think he understands why I am so hurt/upset by it in the first place.
Mt husband always says "he was just joking" or "he didn't mean it"....THE GASLIGHTING IS UNBELIEVABLE!!!!!
Thanks for letting me vent. God bless you all.

25 Female, no chronic health issues. Long story short, I went to a dentist, did the whole exam and imaging. The whole 9 yards. I'm a healthy individual in my mid-20s, no meds except an iron supplement (been on it for over a decade now) and other multivitamins, don't smoke or drink alcohol. No history of tetracyclines or other discoloration-associated meds. I brush my teeth regularly. Only different thing is -I have started drinking coffee recently. Like 2 cups a day.
I know I need to get my teeth cleaned, I don't dispute that. I would like to eliminate the factor causing this, because if it's something that can be improved on my end, I will do that so my teeth are healthy between cleanings. But how do you explain this growth that all of a sudden appeared on my teeth in Oct 2023 and has never gone away since? I've been washing my mouth with baking soda dissolved in water and it's helped maybe a little but it's not going away... What is this grey buildup that can't be scratched off? TIA. https://ibb.co/dK7GLJm

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.

May 3 - bf ejaculated on a tissue, but i make out with him when i get tired while giving him head (he produces lots of precum). i licked a bit of cum on the tissue and i cant remember if i swallowed it or it stayed in my mouth. i then made out with him and after like 2 minutes he went down on me and gave me oral sex. is this a risk ?
btw im having pale yellow discharge, my boobs are so sore and my period is due this week

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.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Very long post so I apologize, I just want to establish the timeline to give as much information as I can.
I’m looking for some alternate opinions and ideas.
Rottweiler, nearly 5 years old, 90~ pounds, active and in shape.
April 17/18, she was bit on her face by a snake while on a hike (there’s three kinds of venomous snakes in my area), presumably a copperhead as I did not see or hear a rattle, and I only saw that it was brown (the other venomous species is black). My other two dogs were there, and the first priority was to get all of them away, and assess the situation more.
She was very clearly in pain, so she was rushed to the emergency vet. She was given anti venom, an overnight stay, and returned home the next day. For the next week, she was given painkillers three times a day, some antibiotics, all of which she finished. She returned to normal and was back swimming in the pool and running around.
May 8th I notice her panting a lot, wanting outside and not acting like herself. Upon physically examining her, she had what is best described as a soft but large lump on her neck. I decided to take her to her normal vet.
I told him that she had just recently (a couple weeks ago) been bitten by a snake, and after shaving and examining the lump, he suspected she was bit again as there was certainly a puncture wound. He asked permission to give her a dose of anti venom, and I asked if there are risks involved if it wasn’t a snake bite, or if she didn’t need it, would there be any complications. He assured me there would not be, they’ll administer it, monitor her, and keep her overnight so I gave the okay and went home with her in their care.
He called back a couple hours later, well after closing and he said that I should come back to the vet. She had apparently went into anaphylactic shock and had a stroke after receiving the anti venom. He said that it was a very rare case, as when you give dogs anti venom and monitor them, if certain levels start to rise you just stop giving it to them and the effects reverse before they reach dangerous levels. She apparently had the reaction immediately. I transferred her to an overnight vet which was an experience in itself, as carrying her to my vehicle was not pleasant.. she had no control over her bowls and had a poop/blood mixture coming out of her almost constantly. The overnight vet took her in, I picked her up in the morning to go back to the regular vet per their request. She was obviously very disoriented because of the medications she was on (or, her reaction too) so she had to be carried to/from and her mood was very “dull”.
She stays overnight again, and on Friday I think it’s all good to pick her up. The vet asks to keep her again over the weekend this time, free of charge, to continue to monitor her and make sure she’s getting her fluids.
Today, may 13th I get the go ahead to pick her up. The vet says he’s covering her entire visit which is of course nice.. she’s eating and drinking fine, but she’s having difficulty walking. Instead of her paws going flat and walking, her paws buckle forward (imagine trying to walk on the back of your hand rather than your palm) causing her to stumble.
She was carried into my vehicle and we went home. I lifted her out of the vehicle and set her down, and difficulty walking was certainly an understatement. She maybe took one step before I carried her inside and put her in a closed off living room.
Another thing I would like to note: I gave her a little bit of water in a bowl, and she would lick it maybe once and do something that I’m probably going to have difficulty describing.. imagine you have a popcorn kernel stuck on the back of your tongue and you kind of.. try to rub the back of your tongue against the roof of your mouth to dislodge it. Something stuck in the back of your mouth and you’re trying to remove it without coughing / hands etc. she does that, but quite dramatically. Puts her head down and uses her paw to rub her face while doing the tongue thing. Seemingly no problem eating though - I got her some fresh raw food rather than her kibble and she ate it without issue. She stood up to eat (after I adjusted her paw) and ate it all.
I’ve done a lot in trying to snake proof my back yard, though the area is large. I’ve went out with my dogs every time they’ve been out since and will continue to do so.
So now, my questions:
How long should I wait to try any physical therapy for her, or is that even recommended? If so, what kind of PT? My idea was to put her harness on and kind of lift her up a little and try to get her to walk
The water thing, any thoughts or just give it some time?
Any specific supplements, foods etc she should be having?
Was this a result of negligence on all parts, or just a freak reaction?
Open to any other advice, very much appreciated too. Thank you.

I have a 17 year old female spayed cat (sphynx, possibly sphynx/cornish rex mix) with two rotting canines (top of mouth). Currently 7 lbs. A year ago my vet said her teeth were just discolored, and at our most recent visit said they needed to be extracted as it looks like she has gingivitis and one of them is mobile. This is extremely distressing as I know it is risky for an older cat to go under anesthesia, and I am currently a full time university student w/ a part time job and cannot afford the treatment they are recommending. She was diagnosed with CKD about a year and a half ago, had been receiving subQ fluid treatments and is on Hill's prescription KD diet, mix of wet and dry food. Her condition has been stable since the diagnosis. She was born with a heart murmur and hasn't been under anesthesia since she was spayed at around 3-4 years old. When we did a blood panel to check for heart disease, my vet said it indicated heart disease (she was unsure if this is due to the heart murmur or otherwise) and recommended an echocardiogram.
I am very overwhelmed and don't really know what direction to go in. According to my vet, the echocardiogram would cost around $600 and the actual dental work would be in the "thousands." Other than her diagnoses and teeth, she is in great condition for her age. Good mobility, high energy, affectionate, regularly uses litterbox, eats and drinks fine and no developed behavioral issues. If I found a vet with cheaper prices or financial help decided to put her under anesthesia, I would be absolutely heartbroken if she passes away due to anesthesia complications. I also know that leaving rotting teeth is a recipe for disaster and her condition could change in a heartbeat.
Any advice? Any suggestions on accessing finance-friendly vet care? I am attending UC Davis and have access to the greater Sacramento area, CA.

Jesus, what a day. It hailed! I had just finished dinner and was about to write to you when it started to rain. I was about to head out to cover up the plants when it sounded like a barrage of bullets were raining down on us. The hail was certainly the size of bullets. I was half-afraid they were going to break the windows. It gave Peach a fright. I had to rush to find something to cover my head so I could go up to cover the plants. Sadly, there were so casualties. Mother had just bought her jalapeno plants this morning and now, most of them are nothing but twigs. My bell peppers were similarly smashed. The herbs and cherry tomatoes survived decently but nothing was completely unscathed. I rushed to cover when I could and then rushed back inside. Later, when he hail actually stopped. I went back out to bring everything I could inside. I don't have confidence that my flimsy plastic cover would hold out in case there's a second storm.
Now I'm soaked. Again. It rained on and off all day; it would go from sunny and warm to dark and wet in seconds. I didn't trust the weather enough to take my laptop out to write so instead, I spent a few hours washing all the lawn furniture. Those birds, particularly the starlings, have covered everything in their shit. They really are the worst guests. Loud, messy, and demanding. Their lucky they're cute. Once I was done cleaning and the weather got sunny again, Peach wanted out. Again, I didn't trust the sky not to rain, for good reason given the hail, so I didn't write outside. Instead, I sat out on the stoop, listened to music, and watch nature in motion.
We had a lot of little guests in the yard today. The starlings, of course, were as loud and intrusive as any storm, but they weren't the only birds around. There were several pairs of finches swooping through the bushes. A pair of males were fighting while a little female watched, I don't think either of them impressed her. Peach watched a mourning dove on the roof for a few minutes and missed the giant toad hopping onto the lawn. I made sure to tell Mother not to let the dog out. He was a giant, handsome thing. So many shades of green, lightest at the top of his head and darker going down. The little discs on either side of his head, apparently it's called the tympanum, was bright yellow, like mini-suns. Peach eventually spotted him and I was so sure she was going to pounce. I followed her as she stalked closer but luckily, she was actually pursing a tasty but of grass by the fence. She couldn't care less about Mr. Toad. Knowing Cooper would be so kind, I took the toad over to the gate. He was a queer fellow. Very polite. He only hopped away from me once and then politely let me scoop him up without fuss. I didn't even need to use both my hands. He just sat in my palm and stared up at me with that strange, semi-sentient expression animals make when they know you're helping them. He didn't even hop away immediately when I brought my hand to the ground. He sat in my palm for almost a full minute before suddenly springing away. I wouldn't mind seeing him in the backyard again if only I didn't have to worry about Cooper eating him.
Now, there's only one last thing to write to you about. My writing. I wrote last night, just as I said I would, from 10:30p.m. to 12:30 a.m. I have no idea how much I wrote. I was to exhausted to count last night and now, I can't recall what I wrote then and what I wrote the day before. Th chapter still isn't quite done. It is in the annoying stage where I could see myself finishing tonight or maybe it will stake me all week. I hate that stage. May is nearly half over and I still only have four chapters written. I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I probably won't finish the book before halloween. Some deadlines aren't meant to be met. They inspire, I suppose. They are a light to follow and then walk past when you meet them empty handed. Even if the book isn't finished in October, I'll keep writing past October. I'll write until it's done. I want to finish the book and that is a good enough reason to write everyday, whenever I can bring myself to but there's no point running myself into the ground for a few paragraphs. If I can't finish a chapter one day, I'll finish it the next. The when matters less than the why. I want it written and that is reason enough to keep going.
Wish me luck.
Would you believe, I already wrote this whole letter to you and then wen't to publish it, only for me to realize I didn't tag the subreddit, and then when I do tag the subreddit, the whole letter deletes and I have to write it all over again? That would be infuriating wouldn't it?
Oh, well. What was first written if gone but what I've re-written might be better in some ways. Or worse. At least it is written.
Please don't delete again.
Yours & Mine,
S.O. Skinner

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 recently I’ve been having some issues. I’ve consumed a lot of drinks like Coca Cola and other things like that, and I have also been suffering with bruxism. I first realised my bruxism was becoming an issue because my gum swelled up and was very painful. Thankfully after wearing a mouth guard and cleaning regularly for a few days, the swelling and pain went away completely.
I went to brush my teeth a couple of nights ago and noticed my teeth looked very stained yellow which really shocked me. My teeth have also been feeling a little bit sensitive to fluids too. I am missing a front tooth (have done for years since my crown fell out) and I’ve noticed that there is a throbbing there sometimes. I realised this yesterday when I laid down, and also after I drank some water. I’ve noticed that when wearing the mouth guard I still bite down a lot and am thinking the pressure on my gums where my tooth is missing is the reason?
In general my teeth feel quite brittle with a dull ache currently, so I am going to stop drinking these fizzy drinks completely now and will take more care of my oral hygiene. I’ve just ordered a fluoride gel that I hope helps out a lot. I have a condition currently and am extremely intolerant to antibiotics so cannot go down that route at all so am quite worried in case of infection. Will salt water, cutting out fizzy drinks, wearing my mouth guard and better oral hygiene help the issues I’ve been having and allow me to regain the normal look & feeling in my teeth again?

Hey all, I finally had my first reddit worthy experience; it might not be hall of fame horror but it’s packed with lesson to be learned.
Our table in question is an all adult (late 20s to mid 30s) respectfully rated R “friends only” crew. This is the story of how someone went from being in our wedding party to kicked out of our adventuring party.
Our crew: Myself, first time DM with a management day job. My spouse, Fighter, who’s a brand new player. Another married couple: Land Druid and Wizard, who generally host the game. Wizard and Land Druid have a kid who's great and only relevant for context on some of the bad behavior later. And finally our star of the hour, a Moon Druid problem player I'll be referring to as Rude Druid.
The story begins before Fighter and I were married and I had gotten into playing at a virtual 5e table with some work colleagues during the quaren-times. Once we all got our "go outside pass" I decided to try my hand at running a table. Fighter and I were not yet living together and we'd made a friend through an app who definitely had some "quirks" but was a fun hang and we had a lot of shared interests, one of which being tabletop. The three of us had discussed getting a 5e game rolling if we could fill out a party and Rude Druid previously was a "forever DM" so was excited to get into the player seat even though it would mean commuting about an hour to attend. Fighter met and made friends with land druid and then we all met at a “yard games and hang” party some time later where I and Wizard shared their interest in tabletop and boom-bam-pow a campaign is born. Various members of the group have various neural divergences as well as histories of (lets politely say) big bad events in their past that made a thorough session zero a must. We all agreed on where our lines and veils were and months of happy dice rolling ensue without issue.
Along the way there were some yellow flags:
Since two players were playing druids and crowd control (CC) became a major mechanic, the DM invested in some gridded combat tools and put significant effort into making CC a fun and valuable part of combat and would mix in “smart” enemies and “dumb” ones to allow for the druids to have their awesome moments but not completely take over every combat. Rude Druid constantly tried to break the grid rules of their AOE spells and even got in an open argument with DM who insisted they adhere to the published rules. One such disagreement ending with the classic Rude Druid: “I’d allow it at my table”DM: “We’re not at your table, we’re at my table and we’re following the grid combat rules”That should have been the end of that right? Would you believe the DM had to call out the player for attempting to break AOE rules several more times? Rude druid also used wild shape to access an area unavailable to the rest of the party, which was fine until they then went on to refuse to rejoin the rest of the party and insisted on their own little side adventure. They even refused the party directly asking the player to come back so they could play as well. Eventually the DM said “We’ll now cut back to the party, you may rejoin whenever you feel like it” and had to remind the player about the “don’t split the party” agreement discussed in session 0. Sadly the yellow flags turned crimson and led to some major boundary crossing. While DM had offered their guest room to the druid for nights they didn’t want to drive home, the expectations got out of hand. They first switched from driving to taking public transport, which was their prerogative, but then expected rides too and from the transit station during working hours. The fighter took care of the driving for a while because they worked a later shift and the two were friends. But then the schedule expanded to needed to be taken for food, expecting to go rock-climbing every time, etc etc and the DM’s “you can crash here and head out whenever” turned into an expectation of a 24 hour commitment of the Fighter being the druid’s personal entertainer and driver. Fighter actually left the game for a short time to deal with life stuff and druid tried to guilt other members into taking over the extra driving, which we all refused. Rude druid is also the most disgusting eater that I’ve ever experienced in my life and both I and another member of the party have misophonia which we’d brought up multiple times making it clear “this is extremely unpleasant for us. Please get it under control”. The sound effects got so bad the hosts had to resort to BANNING snacks from DND night because it was impossible for 2 of us to participate in the game. I promise you, it was so bad you’d have done the same.In the midst of all this DM and Fighter got married, navigated some difficult decisions on housing, moved in together, and now DM no longer had a spare room to offer. Shortly after moving in fighter had two major illnesses that included multiple trips to the hospital and the DM made it clear that the offer of a spare room was no longer on the table for obvious reasons. We all expected the druid to control their alcohol consumption and drive themselves home after the sessions. Rude druid instead invited themselves to crash at the host couple’s house and forced an extremely uncomfortable “that’s not okay, we don’t really do that”. It’s at this point that I’ll remind you that the host couple has a kid and I’ll roll the clock back to a point in time when rude druid quit their job. While telling the story included details that used explicitly violent language. We assumed it was probably hyperbole, but several of us have experienced violence in a way that makes us very not okay with what they were saying. We expressed that sentiment at the time making it clear none of us were ok of threats of violence, even if they weren’t genuine. Rude druid went on to reiterate their anger several more times at various different sessions and to this date I don’t they would have done anything violent but it was WAY over the line and NOT the kind of person you welcome into your home with a young kid. Yet they still seemed completely shocked when trying to stay over at their house was met with a hard no. And finally came the day that we all had enough and the decision was made not to invite them back. Two members of the party were in the final semester of advanced degrees on top of their full time jobs and made it known that they needed to pause the game until after finals because they didn’t have the time or mental energy to commit to the game. The DM and other player immediately understood, wished them the best, and agreed to shelf the game until after graduation. Rude druid did everything in their power to guilt them into continuing to play stating that it would be “good for their mental health” despite this player being the exact opposite of who you’d want mental health advice from. Around this same time the entire crew also attended the DMs birthday party where Rude Druid tried pressuring DM and Fighter to stay while over imbibing in various substances legal in the state this story occurs. This player had to have a pipe physically taken out of their hands and told “you have to drive home, sober up” after repeatedly helping themselves to another attendees scoobie snacks and being an outright jerk to a number of other people in attendance. We had to do a bit of an apology tour with other good friends who were rightly pissed off at various drunken selfish antics and promised that they’d never have to deal with rude druid again.
Our collective limits had been reached, all the other party members got together and unanimously agreed to 86 the player from all of our lives. I wish rude druid the best and I truly hope they can learn to ever consider anyone other than themself, but I for one will not be there to see it.
Happy ending: the players all graduated with flying colors, the game is back on, and rude druid’s character has technically become an NPC that’s “over there” but honestly won’t ever come up again. The game lives on and the rest of us are still good friends with a newly raised bar for what it takes to sit at our table.
As promised, here’s a few easy rules to live by so that you won’t ever experience rude druid’s fall from grace.

• It’s your responsibility to get safely to and from the game. If you’re driving then keep yourself sober. If you can’t handle that, then you shouldn’t consume at all.
• Don’t invite yourself to other people’s house. It’s never okay to impose like that. It’s fine to ask “would anyone be willing to have me” but remember that it’s within everyone’s right to not volunteer.
• Value other people’s time. Remember that no one owes you 24 hours of chauffeur service just because you’re unemployed and bored.
• Don’t split the party or break the rules. Optimization is fine, cheating is not. DnD is a social game and everyone, including the DM, is supposed to have fun and take turns sharing the spotlight.
• Chew with your mouth closed FFS.

Son 8.5 M, 45 lbs has abdominal pain since February. He doesn't go to school and stays in bed most of the time. It happened before but not as severe and went away after a month or so. We realize we need to wait longer for Amitripltyne to work but we are concened that he has rear good days (hours) and in bed most of the time. Normally he is a bright, fun and social boy and now doesn't leave his bed. Could this be something not tested for?
Current Outpatient Medications
famotidine 40 MG/5ML Recon susp - Take 2 mL (16 mg) by mouth at bedtime
gabapentin (Neurontin) 250 MG/5ML Solution Take 3 mL (150 mg) by mouth twice a day

hyoscyamine 0.125 MG Tab - does not help

amitriptyline 10 mg Tab - full dosage started May 2nd, makes him agressive

Medical History Summary:
8.5 years old has been constipating for many years. He has been diagnosed with encopresis in 2021. Ever since he was diagnosed with encopresis He was on MiraLAX .5 to .75 cup twice a day. This helped him to control his constipation. During all this time except for approximately a few weeks he was soiling his pants almost daily. He was also frequently complaining about abdominal pain. Per doctor’s recommendation we were reminding him to sit on the toilet after each meal. Feeding him with homemade meals and we try to limit processed food. We did physical therapy and psychologist therapy. He has a toilet foot stool and seat.
About 1 year ago (January 2023), a bowel cleanup was performed per Max’s pediatrician recommendations. One cupful of MiraLAX was given every 3 hours. (No fasting or clear food diet was recommended)
During that time evacuated lots of poops with diarrhea content. We did not achieve the yellow fluid and stopped after a couple of days. Since this cleanup Max experienced severe abdominal pain for about a month.
Per GI doctor recommendation, we were no longer doing cleanup to avoid severe abdominal pain. Instead, Max was back on his MiraLAX dose .75 cup twice a day with fiber gummies 4mg a day.
He has good apetite most of the time, except after a dose of Exlax. His stool was always help soft over these years.
Notes from GI visit April 22nd - Today he has more guarding, mild distension and tenderness. I can't tell if he has a surgical abdomen (ie volvulus, appendicitis) but it is not associated with vomiting or eating. His most likely diagnosis is abdominal migraines (abdominal pain and headaches) and anxiety at this point, but the pattern has been consistent without as much good days. Activity makes him worse, and we have considered ACNES as well. He has had multiple cleanouts, and the periodic soiling could be from inattentiveness. Perhaps this is from constipation, but should rule out surgical abdomen at this time. We had a long conversation today about abdominal migraines, but upon repeat exam, it is still quite guarded. Pain is daily / off and on. Has had 2 good days in last 3 weeks Appetite is good except when pain is high. No vomiting. Stooling daily with miralax. Sleeping well.
UPPER Endoscopy Diagnosis
A. Duodenum, mucosal biopsy:- Duodenal mucosa with no pathologic change. B. Duodenum, bulb, mucosal biopsy:- Duodenal mucosa with a small lamina propria lymphoid aggregate. C. Stomach, antrum/body, mucosal biopsy: - Antral-and oxyntic-type gastric mucosa with focal features of mild reactive (chemical) gastropathy. D. Esophagus, distal, mucosal biopsy: - Squamous epithelium with rare intraepithelial eosinophils (up to 2 per high-power field). E. Esophagus, proximal, mucosal biopsy:- Squamous epithelium with rare intraepithelial eosinophils (up to 1 per high-power field).
The overall findings are nonspecific. The esophageal findings do not meet threshold numerical criteria for a diagnosis of eosinophilic esophagitis. Reflux related changes are favored. Clinical correlation is recommended.

CT ABDOMEN PELVIS W CONTRAST

Narrative

IMPRESSION:Normal appendix. No CT evidence of inflammatory changes in the abdomen or pelvis. Moderate stool burden in the colon.NarrativeINDICATION: o appendicitis/abscess - GI requesting CT d/t guarding/distensionEXAMINATION: CT ABDOMEN AND PELVIS WITH CONTRAST - CT Abdomen And Pelvis W/ Contrast InjectionTECHNIQUE: Multiple axial images were obtained of the abdomen and pelvis following IV contrast. A radiation dose optimizationtechnique was used for this scan. DLP: 29.8 , CTDI vol: 0.63IV Contrast dosage and agent: 63 mL of Isovue 300Oral contrast: Administered.COMPARISON: None.____________________________________________FINDINGS:LOWER CHEST: Lung bases are clear without any infiltrate. No pleural effusion noted. There is no cardiomegaly or pericardialeffusion.LIVER: The liver has a homogeneous density. No focal masses noted. There is no intrahepatic biliary ductal dilatation.GALLBLADDER AND BILIARY TREE: No calcified gallstones. No gallbladder distension or wall edema. No intra- or extrahepaticbiliary ductal dilation.PANCREAS: No focal cystic or solid mass. There is no pancreatic ductal dilatation or peripancreatic fluid.SPLEEN: Normal size without focal cystic or solid mass.ADRENAL GLANDS: Normal.KIDNEYS AND URETERS: Both kidneys have a normal enhancement without hydronephrosis, renal cysts, masses or perinephric fluid.There is no hydroureter.PERITONEUM: No ascites or free air. No other fluid collection.BOWEL: No abnormal dilatation of the bowel loops is noted. Contrast is noted in several nondilated small bowel loops and in thecolon up to the splenic flexure. Moderate stool noted in the colon, including the rectum. Terminal ileum is visualized andappears normal. A normal caliber partially contrast filled appendix is seen in the right lower quadrant. A few scattered foci ofair also noted in the appendix. No adjacent inflammatory changes are seen. The appendix is best visualized on axial series #2,images 58-69/139.LYMPH NODES: No enlarged mesenteric or retroperitoneal lymph nodes.VESSELS: Vasculature appears normal. No stenosis or aneurysmal dilatation noted.URINARY BLADDER: Appears normal without wall thickening, mass or trabeculations.REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS: No pelvic masses.ABDOMINAL WALL: No discrete abdominal or pelvic wall hernia.BONES: No lytic or blastic abnormality.
Blood tests - Collection date: April 30, 2024 11:08 AM
Lactase 13.9 Normal value: >=14.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Sucrase 51.0 Normal value: >=19.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Maltase 201.3 Normal value: >=70.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Palatinase 15.8 Normal value: >=6.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Glucoamylase 24.2 Normal value: >=8.0 nmol/min/mg Prot

Sed Rate 9

Ferritin 24.7

C-Reactive Protein < .5

Lead, Venous, B <.1

White Blood Count 5.98

Hemoglobin 14.7

Mean Cell Volume 81.8

MCHC 34.5

Platelet Count 302

Red Blood Count 5.21

Hematocrit 42.6

MCH 28.2

RDW 12.4

MPV 8.8

Segmented Neutrophils (ABS #) 2.35

Final Absolute Neutrophil Count 2.35

Lymphocytes (ABS #) 3.8

Eosinophils (ABS #) 0.05

Immature Granulocytes (ABS #) 0

Monocytes (ABS #) .47

Basophils (ABS #) .03

Add: he has headaches on the right side and sensativity to light, not sure how often but at least several times a week.

Okay, so let's get the obvious out of the way. Everyone shits and showers, and I'm totally fine with that. I also acknowledge that when you have roommates, not everyone is going to have the same schedule, and therefore people are going to be doing things at inconvenient times possibly waking me up. I often get woken up by people trampling up the stairs or slamming doors/cupboards when I'm already asleep. I don't complain about these noises because they are "reasonable" sounds that occur when other people exist under the same roof as me.
But, there are two particular noises that I have been dealing with that I find very disturbing coming from the bathroom. Again, I can't complain because I think it would be rude to question someone's bathroom habits. But, I feel like if I understood better what the fuck is happening, maybe I would be less disturbed. The two recurring noises in question are:
1) One roommate makes a throat clearing/cough type of noise repeatedly, and loudly in the bathroom. Picture the noise you make if coughing with your mouth closed. Except its really loud and sometimes rapid-fire. This noise has even woken me up. I've never heard this noise when we are in the kitchen together or anywhere else in the house, so I don't think he's just phlegmy or something. I honestly think this is the sound of him straining so hard on the toilet that he is grunting. Imagine being woken up by that? It is just disturbing and I hate how loud this is. That can't be healthy.
2) Someone in the house showers around 2-3 am. The shower running is not a problem, it's what happens at the end of the shower after turning off the water that is a problem. There is a vigorous squeaky tub noise that makes it feel like my room is having an earthquake. I originally thought people were having sex in the bathroom at night. But, when I realized which roommate it was, I ruled this out. He never has anyone over. I wonder if the noise is something to do with wearing flip flops in the shower? I cant imaging what vigorous movement is even safe to do without falling over in the tub. Hopefully nobody is laying/sitting down in our shared tub. Even though I clean it, that would be gross. And for those with their mind in the gutter, wondering if he is perhaps playing the skin flute, I ask you why would he be doing this after the water is shut off? And why is it causing the whole upstairs to shake? I thought maybe it was a scrubbing sound of cleaning the bathtub, but this guy doesn't clean shit around the house, so scratch that off the list. This bothers me more than anything because I have to just lay in my bed at 3am waiting for the room to stop shaking, whilst disturbing noises come from the bathroom.
Can anyone explain to me wtf is happening in my house so I can come to terms with it??? Obviously I cannot bring it up because these are both personal things that are none of my business, but nonetheless are affecting the comfortable use of my space.

First, for the starter -- I haven't followed any one specific "recipe", however I did what appeared to be the general formula -- 50g flour, 50g filtered water. Feeding was daily, using between 25 - 50g carryover, and feeding 1:1:1. After a few days I was feeding every 12 hours. But I never really get much more than 10% rise after feeding, although plenty of bubbles popping at the surface (and some visible through the jar).
Started with AP unbleached flour, but alternated in some whole wheat (from a bag I've had sitting here for about a year), and picked up fresh organic Dark Rye flour to mix in too. Been doing kind of random (the dark rye I've mixed with AP, as it is a bit expensive and a small bag).
After 8 days, I still decided to go for it, did a bulk feeding the get it to 130g total, used 100g, had 30 carryover. Mixed 500g flour with 350g water, let it set (I got called into a work meeting, and lost track of time, I think it set for 1.5 hours instead of 30 minutes). By the time I mixed the salt and levain in, the dough felt like sting cheese. Mixed it the best I could, did several stretch & folds, and a few hours later went to shape it and proof it. But the dough felt really wet, couldn't get it to hold its shape hardly at all. Put it in the proofing bowl anyway, and about 4 hours later it still hadn't risen much, but the poke test seemed to come back ok. But it still wasn't holding its shape that well when pulled out of the bowl.
Shaped it the best I could, got it in the hot crock pot, didn't get hardly any oven spring, finished cooking, but when I cut into it I had somewhat normal looking crumb of what you'd expect (some holes were .5 - 1 cm large, a bunch of holes like those on a sponge, etc). But connecting the holes were really dense pieces of dough that looked like yellow wood glue. Amazingly enough, the loaf was still edible (I ate half that first night).
Now on to correcting the problems. Every since that first bulk of of the starter, it seems almost dead. I've gone back to putting in about half rye, and switch to bread flour, still not doing much. Temp is around 74F - 78F. Now 4 days later I can see bubbles in it, but no rise. Is this because I'm only keeping 30g carryover, and with 1:1:1 I end up with 90g of fed starter? Is that too small for this stage? I'm keeping it in a pint-size wide mouth (straight side) mason jar, so I have roughly an inch or so in the jar.
Now I did an experiment. Every since the 7-day mark, I've been saving my discard in the fridge, but for 60g discard I've been adding to it another 30g flour and water (so about half what a starter feeder would be). Just to keep the discard from starving to death. Yesterday I took out 50g of discard, fed it in another jar 1:1:1, to get a second starter going, and after feeding that again this morning (discarded this one down to 50g, so I end up with 150g total), and it has already bulked up by about 60% (still not doubling, but doing much better than my original starter).
If this keeps working after a couple more feedings, I think I'm going to commit my original starter to the discard jar, and use this new one. Once I get a consistent doubling then I'll go ahead and throw this one in the fridge, as I plan on baking about 1 loaf a week.

Male, Age 24.
Hi, basically since early march I’ve been suffering from numerous mouth infections/sores… notably Pericoronitis, twice on each side in a very short space of time and I’m baffled as to why… I understand it’s relatively common with partially erupted wisdom teeth but the constant reinfections are starting to worry me a bit. (I only had it once the entirety of last year)
(First 2 infections) The pain/pressure is generally mild and symptoms clear up in about a week using salt water rinse and corsodyl mouth wash. The third infection however was extremely painful (8/10 constant) but it cleared up much faster in about 1 day…
I’ve also noticed numerous painful small bumps (not ulcers) appearing on the gum line, inside of cheek and roof of mouth that sort of come and go, they heal very quickly. These also started about 2 months ago so I believe it’s connected to the Pericoronitis flare ups.
My oral hygiene is not the best and I’ve had anxiety the past few months, could this be the cause? If not what could be causing such frequent oral infections all of a sudden like this? Thanks.