Rash on arms when hot

Little Author's Note up here since it was missed in the last chapter by some people: I don't approve of anyone "narrating" or using my story for their youtube channels or whatever as it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been getting messages whenever I post a chapter asking the same thing and I keep saying no. If you see this story on youtube or elsewhere, I didn’t approve of it or give them my permission to do so.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I smirk at my wrist data pad as I can see Triwt is basically hunting and chasing down the remaining pirates while expertly leading them to me for a trap.
“Triwt, you know me so well.” I say with a fully smug tone as I ready my rifle and prepare to open fire.
Not yet
The footsteps are getting louder.
Not yet…
The footsteps, given how good my hearing is, have now rounded the corner and there’s a shriek of terror.
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
I can’t help but smirk, it seems the ugly bastard did come aboard the ship. What’s better is that Triwt has grabbed him, leaving the remaining 4 pirates not looking this way.
Now.
Triwt, Female Valis-Trobat Hybrid, Security Commander
I’m slightly annoyed as I have to constantly weave and dodge going through the corridor. These dumb asses aren’t even aiming where they're shooting. I quickly duck low to the ground to dodge a barrage of plasma bolts, when I hear the one thing I was looking forward to. Click click click…
Silence follows the clicking of empty TOR’s besides the frantic running. It’s then replaced by one of the pirates, not the Captain, shrieking as she runs ahead of the others in a panic. In no sense am I a sadistic person, but however in this situation, I might have smiled a bit to her reaction as I pick up the pace and quickly enter melee range.
Hm, maybe we can afford one prisoner…
I see the corner coming up as I whip my body around and grab the Captain with my tail.
EWWWW He’s all slimy and mucusy! Goddess this is worse than Jordan Cores bleeding on my fur. EWWW!!!
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
Despite my own internal hatred of the sensation of having to get that gross slime like mucus on my tail of all things, I still pull the Captain back as they round the corner looking back at me as they abandon their captain. I give them a wave right before a hail of gunfire shreds through them, leaving only a fine mist.
I’m surprised Cerelia is allowed to even own such a modified weapon. I can’t even shoot it while holding it with all 4 of my arms due to the recoil! She says it’s registered as a ceremonial weapon. I suppose a sudden funeral is a ceremony in itself.
I smirk at the thought before returning my attention to this gross captain wrapped up in my tail.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I let out a relaxed sigh as I released the trigger from my grip. I don’t particularly enjoy battle, but there seems to be something within my own instincts that triggers dopamine at the end of a battle.
Probably something to do with Altrins being a hunter race before we were modern and spacefaring. Might have to ask a historian about that, if not at the very least a psychologist.
I lower my rifle as Triwt slithers down the hall, her fur undeniably red in a few spots where her fur was exposed, but mostly on her uniform. She keeps going with the Alcoranth Captain being dragged along by her tail, already bound up and gagged.
“I can deal with the blood of Jordan Cores, but take this bastard away from me before I slit his throat for getting mucus on my tail.”
Oh, she is pissed. She’s just doing a good job at mostly containing it.
I nod before speaking, “Just knock him out for now and we’ll put him in a cryopod or something. His slime-like excretions from his skin might make him an easy flight risk since we can assume he can slip out of handcuffs and other bindings fairly easily.”
Triwt nods at me and uses a Stun Baton to knock him out for now after hitting him with probably more volts than regulated.
I suppose it’s better than bashing his head against the wall until he passes out.
The remaining guards who were left with me take the now prisoner captain away from Triwt and begin transporting him to a cryopod room meant for emergencies like if the ship’s thrusters stop working and we’re years away from rescue.
We could just set up an SOS frequency broadcast and then put everyone in cryo until rescue arrives. But now, it’s a makeshift prison for a cowardly pirate.
Now… for the real battle in all of this. The battle on the inside.
Lys, Verkrawn Male, Fauna Research Specialist
Silence. Well, except my ears are ringing from the sound of gunfire that has now stopped.
I take in a shaky breath in what feels like the first time in forever. Everything is shaking now that the fighting seems to have stopped. It seems I’m not the only one who was holding their breath for so long as other crew members near me seemed to breathe in while a few start to break down crying.
We’re not fighters like security, Triwt, or Cerelia. Most of us had never seen people die, to say the least how brutal it was to see how Jordan Cores attacked the Alcoranth. I feel my face with my clawed hands and feel the warm liquid of my tears running down my face.
When did I start crying?
The realization hit me like a powerloader as it’s my turn to break down crying, my own legs failing me as they shook before I found myself weeping on the floor as the thoughts and emotions flooded my head with what happened and how terrible this was. I keep crying as I feel the large paw of my older sister as she slowly sits me up and holds me in a warm embrace. It makes me think about when I was younger. The days when she and I were in the orphanage. She used to hold me just like this after she would chase away the older kids who would be mean to me. I still remember some of the things she’d say to them.
“I don’t care if a Verkawn’s scales can deflect most bullets, he still has feelings!” The first thing she ever said to the bullies as she chased them off. It was also the day I met her. She had lost her family due to a Slaver raid on the colony world she was living on at the time. She didn’t tell me much about it, and I doubt she would tell me even today, but she always called me her little brother, so I started calling her my older sister. It’s been like that since.
I keep crying until it’s more of a sniffle as I slowly return the embrace.
“They will never hurt you like they hurt me, Lys.” She whispers to me before slowly turning her attention to the crew members with a sad expression. “Nor any of you. Oh, none of this was ever supposed to happen.”
“Y-You can’t predict pirates, Cerelia”
“I know, but they got so close to hurting and enslaving you. I failed to keep you all safe.”
“Cerelia, we’re fine. No one got hurt physically. We should probably just go to the nearest planetary city, maybe see some therapists and psychologists while the ship gets repaired.”
Cerelia nods as she thinks about what I said.
“Yeah, but what about the furless beast? What are we supposed to do about it?” A member says as everyone was slowly coming to grips that they are alive and well. “Are we just going to keep it here? Who knows if it’ll attack us again like it did to Lys or that Alcoranth on the floor there!?”
“He was scared!” Cerelia counters, with a hint of personal anger in her tone. “He couldn’t understand us and was only trying to escape because he thought he was in danger!”
“He was in danger? He is the danger for all I’ve seen!” They countered as I felt like shrinking down and hiding away, before a bit more of an emotional burning sensation rose up in me.
“Shut up!” I suddenly snapped. Silence follows as they wait for me to say something. I have never raise my voice.
“Sure, they found us in here because Jordan Cores had a chip on him, but he didn’t know about it! Not only that, but he at least protected us from that psychopath, breaking his own body and getting shot before doing so! You haven’t even had time to interact with him. While my interactions with him were brief, I could at least tell that he was scared and that he was sorry!” I huff as I silently cry again as I look at both Cerelia and the crew member. I think their name is R’dorn. They’ve always been brash and rude, so I had a tendency to avoid them.
R’dorn looks at me annoyed, but as they are seemingly unable to come up with a good counter argument, they storm out of the safe room.
I look at Cerelia and Triwt before sighing and sitting down. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright, you kinda said what we were all thinking.” Someone says as they place a wing on me. “That, and R’dorn needs to shut up every now and then.” There’s sounds of agreement before it becomes a group embrace of comfort. Much different to huddling in fear.
“So wait, where is Jordan Cores now? Is he okay?”
“He’s in Med Bay 07’s only regeneration pod. He’s going to be fine, but it won’t be a while until he’s out due to his injuries.” Triwt responds as she slithers to the entrance of the room. “How about everyone gets cleaned up, or takes a hot shower to calm their nerves, and in about 2 hours time, we can see how Jordan Cores is holding up?”
That sounds like a good idea. To wash away the stress and some time to think, it sounds super nice.
I let out a sigh and nod. “Yeah, that sounds good to me… I’ll be there then. I guess if everyone else wants to show up, you can as well? Not like I can stop you or force you to, but the suggestion is there. Just trying to be considerate.”
With that, I stand up and I’m escorted back to my room to try and freshen up and clear my head.
And that is chapter 9! I was personally a little bit of mental and emotional wreck while writing because sometimes I don't know what I'm doing. At least that's how it feels. Gonna try and do some experimenting as I kinda want to explore some places now as we’ve been stuck on The Opal Star since the very beginning. So what are we feeling? A desert world, tropical world, or maybe a world that’s high in gravity, but Jordan seems to be just fine? Let me know your thoughts, ideas, and suggestions below, and thank you so much for reading!
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Round 1, Pick 26 - Graham Barton, C, Duke:
NFL: The Buccaneers fortify the offensive line with an experienced player who offers position flexibility. His elite presence on the interior should help elevate the run game and keep Baker Mayfield upright.
CBS Sports: A. This is a great pick. They have major issues at center and a question at left guard and he can play both. I love this pick. Barton will move inside from tackle, but he can play there in a pinch too.
ESPN: The Bucs got their top pick of an interior offensive lineman in Barton, who can immediately step in to fill the void left by center Ryan Jensen's retirement. While all but four of Barton's offensive snaps over the last three seasons have come at left tackle -- where he allowed just one sack in 2023 and two in 2022 -- he played 446 snaps at center as a freshman, which is his most natural fit and what caught the Bucs' eye. He plays with a great base, a good anchor and a "nasty temperament" that the Bucs' front office covets.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Likes his coffee hot and water cold which is actually reasonable.
Round 2, Pick 57 - Chris Braswell, DE, Alabama:
NFL: It's not often that a player with two college starts lands inside the top 60 picks, but Braswell did emerge last season as a jack of all trades for the Crimson Tide. At the very least, he could be a terrific special-teamer, but the Bucs likely hope to develop Braswell's pass-rush arsenal and squeeze even more out of his terrific athletic profile.
CBS Sports: A+. Had early RD2 grade on this outside rusher. Length, methodical pass-rush moves, deceptive power. Very productive generating pressure at Alabama. Sets a sturdy edge. A need in the post Shaq Barrett era.
ESPN: While the Bucs did sign Randy Gregory in free agency, he'll likely wind up being more of a rotational player opposite second-year edge YaYa Diaby. What they've needed is a replacement for Shaquil Barrett, who departed for the Miami Dolphins in free agency. Braswell's three forced fumbles in 2023 were tied for the most in the SEC, while his 42 pressures were the third most in the SEC. His eight sacks were tied for the fifth most in the SEC after having 2.5 sacks from 2020 to 2022. He also had 53 coverage snaps in 2023, which Todd Bowles does ask of his edge rushers. Braswell played 41 games with Crimson Tide but only made two starts, both of which came last season.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: He only likes the yellow part of the gummy worm.
Round 3, Pick 89 - Tykee Smith, S, Georgia:
NFL: Smith has a Mike Edwards-like projection, so it's easy to see why the Bucs took Smith here, in the same range they drafted Edwards in 2019. Although Smith is undersized and not an elite athlete, he has the nose for the ball and enough special-teams value to be a contributor in Year 1.
CBS Sports: B-. Slot defender / safety hybrid closer to slot CB size but doesn’t have those quicks. Surprisingly powerful hitter at his size and plays with a lot of conviction when tracking the football. Super-smart in coverage. Reads QB’s in a flash which helps him play faster than his timed speed.
ESPN: The Bucs see Smith as a nickel, and he played 80% of snaps in the slot with Bowles keeping a close watch on the UGA program, where his son, Troy, plays. They started undrafted free agent rookie Christian Izien last year and signed Tavierre Thomas in free agency, but their secondary as a whole needs more takeaways, which is where Smith comes in. His four interceptions in 2023 were tied for the third most in the SEC. He was also one of three FBS players with four or more interceptions and two or more sacks in 2023 alongside Michigan's Mike Sainristil and UNLV's Cameron Oliver.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Ribs. This man loves ribs. Cannot get enough ribs!
Round 3, Pick 92 - Jalen McMillan, WR, Washington:
NFL: A smooth-moving slot or outside receiver, McMillan returned from injury to help the Huskies make it all the way to the national title game. He has big mitts, good hands and more juice than he's sometimes given credit for. This is a really nice weapon to add to the Bucs' WR room.
CBS Sports: B+. Crafty, complete wideout with a trademark trait. Runs quality routes. Adequate separation. Not a burner. Not slow. Tracks it with good concentrations. Not a huge YAC type nor someone who thrives when leaping for the football in traffic. Robert Woods type with a bit more juice.
ESPN: The Bucs declined No. 3 wide receiver Russell Gage's option this year, and he was released. Mike Evans will also be 31 and Chris Godwin enters the third and final year of his contract, worth $20 million per year. McMillan can line up inside or outside but 33 of his 45 receptions came out of the slot in 2023, and he caught six passes out of the backfield. He's also a master of the post route. His six touchdown catches on post routes since 2022 are tied for the most in the FBS, while his 253 receiving yards on post route concepts since 2022 are the 10th most in the FBS.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Still willing to try and get the band back together.
Round 4, Pick 125 - Bucky Irving, RB, Oregon:
NFL: Bucky to the Bucs keeps the run on Ducks going. He's not terribly fast but can get up to max speed quickly and might end up as a decent complement to Rachaad White, even if they do similar things well.
CBS Sports: A. Bad testing figures - - despite reasonable speed - - but one of the most elusive, hard-to-corral RBs over the last few drafts. Smaller stature. Decent contact balance too. Weapon in the receiving game, and of course, out in space. Fun addition.
ESPN: The Bucs have had the league's worst rushing attack over the last two seasons (82.9 yards per game) and wanted to bolster competition. Irving is 5-9 and 192 pounds and ran a 4.55 40-yard dash at the NFL combine -- 14th among 20 running backs. While his testing was not great, the tape shows production. He topped 1,000 rushing yards in each of his two seasons at Oregon, including 1,180 with 11 touchdowns in 2023. He broke or evaded an FBS-high 144 tackles since 2022, and he had 896 rushing yards between the tackles in 2023, averaging 7.1 yards per rush. His 56 receptions last season led all FBS running backs.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: He once ate an 8 layer peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Round 6, Pick 220 - Elijah Klein, OG, UTEP:
NFL: With 55 college starts and good length, Klein has a chance to make it in Tampa. He's stiff and might be an inside-only blocker, however.
CBS Sports: C. Smooth operator at guard. Quality run-blocking abilities. Opens the gate too soon in pass pro and not ultra experienced there. Not many true sets in college.
ESPN: The Bucs didn't re-sign Matt Feiler or Aaron Stinnie, who both started at left guard last season. Along with Cody Mauch, they finished with a combined 70.2% run blocking win rate among guards -- 16th in the league last year. None of them finished in the top 50 in pass block win rate either. The Bucs did sign free agent Sua Opeta from the Philadelphia Eagles, and Klein will compete with those two. Klein allowed 1.3% pressures at UTEP and in 45 games, he allowed four sacks with a 1.6% blown run block rate. In 2023, he allowed one sack all season.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Always wondered how Raymans hands worked if he doesn’t have arms.
Round 7, Pick 246 - Devin Culp, TE, Washington:
NFL: Culp shocked a few people when he ran a 4.47-second 40-yard dash, but his 230-pound frame figures to limit his role quite a bit. Even so, Culp improved each college season and has some unrealized potential as an H-back.
CBS Sports: B+. Smaller, speedster H-back TE type. Was very underutilized at Washington but flashed when given the opportunity. Made some impressive snags in traffic. Not much YAC-wise but can run away from second-level defenders if given space.
ESPN: The Bucs' 502 combined yards from tight ends last year was third worst, and they needed to bolster competition at the position. At 6-3 and 231 pounds, Culp ran a 4.47s 40-yard dash at the scouting combine, which was the fastest among tight ends this year. But he'll need to improve as an in-line blocker, which is where his size is a concern. He's also had some drops with six (8.8% drop rate) in 28 games.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has soft hands… both ON and OFF the field.

I didn’t do it. I didn’! I didn’t! I’m no murderer, no, listen! I will tell you your a killer. You do not believe me? Even for a moment? But little is my own sentence even a concern for me, the freedom in society has little left to offer me. Grief and horror are all that fill my mind, the only residents remaining in my home. And you’d expect it to be such an oppressing grief. But no, no, no…it is much more the horror. It is much more the intense fear, the great disgusting and evil works that wait for me in the dark. The grizzly voice that reassures me of fate in its worst forms. It is here now. Cackling at its maniacal work. I hear it. What are you worth wretch! You’ll burn all your years and infinite more! But forgive me, my anger is difficult to suppress against my enemy. He lingers still. A lover of deception however, would be a fool in his own craft to reveal his intentions. Thus, would be a fool to reveal their own horrid form. Therefore, relinquish some of your repulsion of me, so that you may have at least some possibility of belief in what I say. I understand the situation I’m in, but why should I refrain from telling the truth simply because it is unlikely you will believe me? Especially when you condemn me? Listen then!
I was watching television, and my roommate was out the entirety of this night. My family remained in Los Angeles during this time, so they are not making any affect on what occurred. But you want me to tell of my roommate? I am telling you! You ask about the murderer, so you must listen to all I know of him. It was in the most ordinary of circumstances and activity when such a striking and alarming voice pierced the room. The TV was quiet, and I lounged about with dull mind. When I heard someone call for my name from down the hall, whom which I couldn’t see since the door was closed, I of course simply responded, “Yeah?” This was the very first of the remarkable experiences I began to have. I realized what had just occurred. I was home alone, so who could be calling to me from my own room? Well I suspected then my roommate. But I had trouble reconciling the voice I heard with that of my roommate. It had such an eerie tone to it. Almost as if it were teasing me. Yet, it was such a convincing and deceptive call, that the mocking tone it had was almost imperceivable. As if maybe this creepy inflection was a result of my own nerves or unfamiliarity with the event.
Regardless of it’s true nature, this odd quality roused my attention. Was I indeed not alone? But then it must be my roommate, since it was my name. I could not get over the gross friendly tone it called to me with. It’s as if it was bragging about knowing my name. I froze for a moment with the TV playing, listening for another call. “Javier” a woman's voice called out gently and compassionately. But such disgusting compassion did it call out. It seems it couldn’t itself disguise just the slightest hint of malevolence that just snuck under the tone. Or perhaps it meant to say it how it did. But it terrified me. I reasoned it must be somebody I know. But I couldn’t bear the action of getting up looking around. I was simply frozen, wishing not to move and cause myself to miss out on hearing more by making a racket myself. it didn’t even come from behind the door, it was as if it was somewhere far away. Yet it was so clear and punctual in volume.
This left me more at unease and helpless to find a solution. This time I did not respond. I greatly regretted responding the first time. I only paused the TV and looked about myself anxiously, dreading that something would speak again. After many moments of silence, I compromised to rest from my alert. And as the words spoke drifted deeper into the past, the simple abnormality of them caused them to resist their place in my mind as credibly existing. Though it happened not long ago that same hour, I questioned if I did indeed hear a call out for my name in such a mysterious and ugly tone as I had. This was just before the most morbid of calls occurred. It spoke to my name again, “Would you come, Javier?” But such terror came over me in that delicately rude and friendly tone which it spoke to me in. The suspense and anticipation for the call was intensely surmised to a realization as my heart began a sprint. This voice was not just a woman's, it was my sister. How incredibly unlikely she would be here, unannounced and somehow in my home without my knowledge. I still held intense fear, for you must understand the uncanny sense from this call. It was as if someone was inciting their vocals and tone to imitate or mock a human. It seemed not as if they were doing an impression of my sister—no, for it sounded exactly like my sister—but instead it seemed as if they attempted an impression of a human. Such a perfect quality, yet just so slightly imperfect that I may subconsciously perceive something wasn’t quite genuine in this call. I darted my perceptions across the room wide eyed. I quickly looked about myself, checking behind me multiple times.
Now, the following details not only enhance the unbelievable notions of my current situation, but may in fact completely discredit me in even speaking about them. But you must hear it! I implore you to imagine this! It is the truth—all of what I say is. For the night I heard her—my sister that is—speak to me in my own apartment, was the same night, as I learned weeks later, is the same night she had died. Sophia, that is her name, had killed herself.
Many nights passed like this when I was alone. I was tormented by calls with no direction or location. I shuddered at creepy voices beckoning in the dark. Sometimes, even in daylight, things spoke to me while I was alone. Unrelenting and disturbing voices within my home. Now, you may presume at this moment I am clearly schizophrenic. Indeed, I too had this notion. I seeked a psychiatrist during this time, to which medicine was prescribed and an indefinite period of shipping as well. But I perceived far too many REAL things. Yes, these could be hallucinations, but you couldn’t possibly have that conclusion if you hear what else this has done to me.
It happened after many terrible nights that I heard of my sister’s death. I was very shocked at first. But sadness was not next door, grief did not have time to move in. Instead, a realization taunted and teased my peace. I would hear her tonight, speaking to me. You may not imagine the dread that filled my day. I went to work and back home as a zombie. The tasks and conversations passed me by as dreams. I was incredibly absent and void of presence in my own life. My head spun before it comprehended any purpose of grief and despair. When I returned home I found myself double, triple checking that the lights were on and the blinds shut. Even though these things were clearly in my sight. I also locked doors and called my roommate to make sure he was home. I begged and pleaded with him, but he only brushed me off telling me he can't ditch his shift. I paced back and forth within the rooms pitching the plan to myself to have a hotel room. I eventually settled on this as it brought peace to me. And that night passed, at least before I slept, how I hoped. My sister did not speak to me from the darkness. But woe had not stopped its intention upon me that night.
I managed to fall asleep. In my dreams that night, I was visited with a vivid nightmare. I stood in my childhood home waiting at the door with a bat in my hand, standing between my sister and the entrance. I had this feeling that something bad was going to happen, and that I had to protect her, though nothing in particular was occurring. Then, with a gentle creek, a clawed hand reached and pushed the front door gently open. A demonically horned monstrosity stepped into the room. Its hooves clopped upon the wood floor. I intended to combat it, but my muscles took no command from me, and I swung the bat as if I was in molasses. It lunged with a deep roar to my sister, digging its hands into her stomach and viciously tearing it open with ease. It dug through her chest cavity as a dog digs holes in the dirt, spewing and tossing guts and organs out slashed and mutilated. I stood helpless and disgusted, until it turned towards me. It dropped my sister to the ground like a doll it no longer wanted to play with. It approached and grasped me tightly, growling a deep animalistic anger, its stature looming over me. It took its claw and dug it into its own eye, slicing it and tearing it open. It leaned over me, inches from my face. I screamed in horror. Black blood seeped and dripped from its swollen socket into my mouth. I struggled ferociously but the blood continuously poured from its eye into me.
I awoke sweating in pitch black, feeling Intense fear in myself. As a child that had not had their night light. I was terrified of the thought of something being in the darkness. I knew I was awake, and I was in a hotel in the middle of the night, but my heart started racing in irrational fear. I didn’t even have the courage to lift my head and look about the room to satiate the tormenting curiosity in the mystery of a possible supernatural visitor. But, I did. There was a demon sitting on the chair. A darker than dark silhouette of someone sitting hunched, looking at me. It was a shadow. But I knew, even then, this was a devil. I felt it. The blood in my skin fell away. I was mortified; in absolute terror. I stared unmoving with my heart beating out of my chest at this figure.
I slowly began to hold disdain for it. It did not move, it did not speak. But, I was beginning to be relieved of my fear. Instead, it was replaced with hate. Burning, mean hate. I hated it. No, I abhorred it. I was angry. The most intense rage fell upon me. I stood up from my bed, looking about the darkness. I stomped and clenched my fists. Captured in the most ridiculous delusion of fury, I began yelling and thrashing my room. I broke vases and electronics. I smashed the TV to the ground. I bit and gnawed at the chair leg which the thing sat on. I flipped the mattress and kicked doors off their hinges. I scratched and tore pillows like a feline. I was filled with so much hate and anger. I remained like this until hotel staff came to subdue me. Which, at their arrival, the feeling subsided suddenly.
I now was plagued daily by these voices, and nightly by this demon. The visits were not as dramatic as the first, but still, It watched me from different places in the dark each time. All it did was sit there. Weeks passed like this, I lost tremendous amounts of sleep attending to fruitless solutions and avoidances. Either I slept not a wink the night and evaded my tormentor, save for the voices if I’m alone, or I had to face my tormentor in the midst of night with a bravery I did not possess, awoken by various nightmares or visions designed for me that night.
But this is merely his entrance, I must now speak of the acquaintance he made with me. It was another terrible midnight where I stared at it, in whichever spot it had chose for the night, contemplating the nature of such a gross presence and its effect on me. When, filled with a ridiculous exhaustion and exhasperation, I called out to it, “What do you want!” I saw a slight twitch in its head, which struck me with more surprise than fear, although I had both. “Do you know me?” It spoke in a low and growled voice. It had such a tone of malevolence and mocking speech, it even felt as if it spoke condescendingly, as if I was a child it was reducing to. “No.” I said, my breath failing me. “I knew your sister.” The demon stated with a snicker, which developed into a chuckle, then an intense and hearty laugh. He wailed and howled in laughter even, he sounded insane. Such a disgusting sound it was to hear its voice in the darkness so pleased with itself. It confused and frustrated me in fear greatly, and it became so loud and went on for so long I couldn’t stand it. “Shut up!” I yelled finally. It stopped laughing immediately. “But you know Javier, you know me too.” It spoke very seriously. I stared in bewilderment. “You’re guilty! You’re guilty! You love murder! Haha! You love yourself! You stroke huh?” The demon spoke without relent and enjoyed his own hilarity. “What the fuck?” I said in a trembled whisper. “Yea, you hate clothes, you little pathetic bitch.” It cackled.
I was roused again with the most extreme and unimaginable anger. I yelled my defense at him. He grew in laughter. I screamed any kind of profanity and slur I could think of at his station, and he only grew in volume with me. This went on until I finally arrived at my king accusation, which was finally enough to have it stir, “You’re a failure of creation!” He was silent for a moment. “What is it you know of creation?” It spoke with such a terrible and tremendous tone. “Are you worth any more than me? You’re subject to death the same. I’m a connoisseur of freedoms, yet, what are you? You are a slave of fear, scared of your own desires. And, even more so, subject to me.. As much as a mouse loses its life to the metal spring when it grabs cheese, so do you spoil by me.” “You speak nonsense!” I retorted “You’re very stupid, it’s difficult for you to grasp.”
Then, without much more deliberation, it simply began roaring with the most horrific and inhumane noises. It began screeching—it screeched with blood curdling yells and sorrow. It screamed as if it was lit on fire. At once, in the shadows, it began clawing at its own face. I heard sounds of ripping and tearing—with noises as if pounds of deli meat were slammed onto the cutting board. This was accompanied by an intense and putrid smell of rot, and I began weeping. This experience was more than I could bare, and I couldn’t describe to u what was unnaturally filled in my mind. This night felt as if i was never going to escape the moment, like the present moment was my eternity. This sight annoyed me to my soul for what seemed like hours, and I even conjectured to myself that this torture was eternal.
But soon, he did indeed cease. A gentle glow of orange illuminated the end of my bed. He stood before me, tall and with elegance in the light. He was skinned, his jaw dislocated, his face scratched bare and raw so that no features were pertruding. He was completely nude, with hooves and fur patches among his disfigured appearances. He wore this boldly with shame, yet, overcame it with overwhelming pride.
Such beauty it was to admire his stature. I could not help but gaze with wonder and pleasure. I must have admired him for a while, perhaps even hours. I became mad with lust for him, such a delicious sight he was! I should give up my other fruitless endeavors of life if I could just have the delight to taste him.
But just as I settled on my prospective bliss, my roommate entered the room. His yell of terror attacked my ears, interrupting us. Why scream? Why that hideous look on his face? What was he so scared of? What possessed him to be worthy of beholding any sort of indignation upon my beautiful companion? A little worm—that ugly little leech that dared breath the same air as us. “Get rid of it.” The demon told me, but I hardly needed a command to conceive of my goal.
Oh, what fun I had! It was like the first fresh sip of lemonade on a summer day! Like the sunshine that seeps through window seals—like the birds chirping in the dewy mornings. Like the adrenaline of a rollercoaster—the tickle of a drop. Like the intoxication that gives you belief of so much confidence. And to feel it on my hands? It was the joy of a child when he smashes his fingers into the moist sand—that innocent satisfaction of destroying a castle. Like the excitement of opening your favorite bag of chips—grabbing the ends and pulling the plastic with might until bursts open with goodies; yes, that’s what it was like for me to stick my thumbs deep into his eye sockets, and pull to open—if only I could. It was such, as when I bit down on his throat with all my might and sipped. It was indeed so, when I scratched and clawed till my nails came off, opening his chest and pulling at ribs like discarded hot wings, ripping at organs and intestines, pulling of nails, bending fingers two loops around, snapping his arms, smashing his head with my foot—but again my happiness was destroyed. For my companion had fled the scene, and he was no longer present. At once, I recovered some coherence and realized the tragedy of what I had done. How would I hide this? How could I discard of blood evidence all over me? How was he going to chip in on rent in this condition? I obviously had not calculated all the required considerations before doing such a thing. I was enraged by the black magic possessed by the demon, stupid, tricky, evil thing. So you see, it was his fault.

Hi, I’m newer here. Here is my background:
I was clinically diagnosed with Hypermobile EDS a few months ago by a rheumatologist but knew I was hypermobile since I was very young. I didn’t pursue a diagnosis earlier bc I didn’t think I needed to but now I realize it would have been a good thing and explain all of my other immune, fatigue, posture, etc. problems.
Anyway that doctor now doesn’t want to put in my record I definitively have Eds. He had told me I have the hypermobile kind, there is no blood test, printed a 20page article I should read about it and sent me on my way. (He also tested me for Lyme, Ebv, etc. Lyme was negative, Ebv positive which is what I expected.) He also mentioned having Hypermobile syndrome was better than having an eds diagnosis and something about how insurance companies think you’re dying otherwise.
When I followed up with my PCP for what I believe was a Mast cell rash based on my symptoms, she denied I had Eds, ignored all my symptoms and comments but agreed to take a biopsy of my rash. The results came back today with “Vacuolar interface alteration with scattered intraepidermal necrotic keratinocytes and superficial dermal perivascular lymphocytic infiltrate with eosinophils. The histopathologic features raise a differential diagnosis including a medication reaction, a viral exanthem, or less likely drug-induced lupus or another connective tissue disease.”
Her comment to me was I was allergic to something and should buy hydrocortisone.
I took an allergy test recently and I’m not allergic to anything. Nor was I around any new products that would cause this spot on my arm. I’m tired of the gaslighting each time I see her and plan to change PCP. I need to advocate for my health care. I feel so foggy, tired, all the things and I just need help.
How do I get help before letting this get out of control? If I can’t get a referral for immunology or genetics, I’m just being denied care. WHY would having EDS on my record be a bad thing for insurance? At this point it doesn’t matter I need the truth to come out so I can hope to feel better. I’m honestly so utterly disappointed and confused.

Suit and tie on straight? Yep! Keys? Check. Screen? Shined. Flowers? Check! “Ok, I got this,” Vox muttered to himself as he took a step out the door and was immediately hit by the crushing heat of hell… You got used to it after a while.
He felt his heart flutter in his chest (He had been dead for a while, and having a heart thing no longer confused him, he just didn't think about it anymore). he had a few things to say to Alastor, and was going over them in his head, do you want to join my team? It could… I feel like we've been getting really close, maybe… Do you want to go out with me? Do you want to be more than friends? do you…
Finally, he got to where he was supposed to meet Alastor, the bar they had first met; and the place that they had met at to discuss anything serious. He took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.
Alastor was waiting at the entrance to the bar; unprepared for the storm of chaos that Vox’s mental state would be in tonight. “H-hey Alastor,” he mentally kicked himself, that was dumb… it was actually a pretty normal greeting but still.
Alastor turned to greet him with his usual expression; only to take on a dead-pan stare when he saw the flowers, though his grin remained unwavering. “Vox. Is this a joke?” The radio demon’s tone was cold, or at least as cold as it could be considering the static. “Hm? No, I’m being serious… I think I have an idea that could be amazing!” Alastor tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing at Vox’s nervous expression; before suddenly snapping his head back into place and regaining his friendly mannerism. “Well then Vox; what is your proposition?”
“W-well I thought that maybe…” He took a deep breath trying to calm his nerves “…I have this idea that we could maybe be a team? I have some people that are interested and…” He felt his heart beating out of his chest as he held out the flowers he had brought “… maybe we could be… more than friends? Maybe we could be a-a couple-” Alastor cut him off with a staticky laugh. “There IS no ‘us’. Vox and Alastor are not a thing, and never will be.” “I-I just thought that, the way you looked at me maybe… you felt the same way, I-” he replied, but was cut off by a sudden cracking sound as Alastor’s staff made contact with his face.
“WHAT THE FUCK Al? THAT HURT!” he shouted, tracing his finger along the crack to see how bad it was. not that bad, “Al I’m sorry I just-“ Alastor seemed to tower over him as he took a step closer “I’ve made it perfectly clear that I work alone. you were lovely entertainment but now I think enough is enough. Now run home to your little friends and go make a fool of yourself, just like you always do.”
Vox felt himself growing hot with anger and frustration “WHY, WHY CAN YOU NEVER JUST BE-BE… AHHGGG WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS AL?! I thought you were my friend” He felt his hands crackle with electricity as his anger grew. He could kill this prick, he was the Future. Lightning sparked at his fingertips as he swung his arm at Alastor, making direct contact but doing little damage, Alastor restrained him with a shadow tendril; lifting him off the ground as Alastor took on his fully demonic form; chucking slightly “We were never friends Vox; you mean nothing to me, and you never will.” Another tendril shot at Vox’s head, shattering his screen and destroying the wiring; the tv demon screeched in pain as his system went down, glass littering the floor. “P̵̝͖̲̮͔̔̈̓̒̚-̷̢͕͕̞̀̀̃͋͌́p̷̧͎̭͂͆ľ̶̯̙͕̉̂͑e̴͓͜͠a̵̢̢͚͐̈́̿ͅš̴̡̤͐̀͝ê̴̜͈̯̹̫͝ͅ ̵̡̢̣̿̓̈́̆̄̕l̵͉̎́-̴͕̣͍͇́̕ḻ̸̟̫̔͑̀͝͝-̴̪͚͉̲̒̂͜e̶͕̞̺̅̾̚͝ͅt̵̛̟͔̆͐̂̚͝ ̸̗̓̓̒̅͒͝m̷̦̫̙̖̱̈́̍͊̈̓ ̶̛̙͍̍̈́̉̊̕ẻ̵̳̰̰̯̎̋ ̶̤̳̲̐̈͊͜g̵̨̞̰̙͕̼͌̾̓͆͑-̸̧̮͊͒̾͒̚g̶̘̞̜̿o..” Vox managed to sputter out.
Alastor turned his back, letting Vox fall to the ground “Hmm.. The old head was a lot more sturdy…” Vox barely registered the comment as he tried to pull himself to his feet, I never should have trusted him, I never should’ve tried this, i-I need to go home…

Long read ahead.This is an entry I [F20] wrote one night after checking myself out in the mirror too long. I feel like this sometimes recently and just wanted to find out if it's a bad but normal thing or I'm unknowningly heading towards dysmorphia. I don't want anything to develop outside of my control:
am I ugly? recently I've been getting more into taking photos of myself using my real camera. not the filterfied apps that can make me into whatever version of myself I think I should be. but I very often just get turned off by how unbelievably bare I look on my camera that I end up switching to the beauty cam in the end. even on there though, I turned down the filters so the only thing that would be very enhanced is my skin, which is still being attacked by acne despite the fact that I'm on my way to 19 years old. I hold myself to such a high regard but I'm starting to wonder if I'm being delusional and aren't as pretty as I think I am. I mean, sure, I dress well which makes me perceivable as attractive from a distance but is it that when you're up close and actually see my face you realise I'm not as hot? am I a Monet, as Cher in clueless said? when I look in the mirror I think I look good, fine sometimes but not ugly, but when I pull out my camera it just shatters what I'm beginning to believe is just an illusion of my own distorted view of myself. I'm also starting to pay attention to my body. sometimes I go to the bathroom in only my sports bra and, in those three tall mirrors I see how bony I am. I never particularly had a problem with my body before but I suppose now that I'm doubting my face I'm beginning to doubt my body too. I've been praised for my tiny waist or my 'perfect' ass but beyond that I wish my collar bone wasn't as striking or that maybe my arms weren't so thin and awkwardly spaced and bony when I lift them up to take photos of myself. even though I've always seen myself as pretty I've always, always felt a bit of doubt when someone else pointed it out, almost like a part of me didn't believe them. is that normal? all this is starting to make me wonder if I'm aiming too high for a partner as well. what if the person I think I am and the person I really am are deserving of two very different levels of partners. I'm not into anyone in this province or university because I hold myself so highly in terms of my dressing and looks but if it is that I'm lying to myself and aren't that amazing of a catch, then does that mean I have to accept whoever and whatever. everyone knows deep down that unattractive people unfortunate don't actually have a right of choice when it comes to who they accept love from. noone admits but it's a very common thing for people to think. similarly to how fat people are perceived as too conceited when they have any kind of standard for who they want to love. I wish I could fix my teeth and that my skin wasn't so bad. I wish I looked as good in photos as I think I do in the mirror.

This story takes place over the course of about 2 ish years so details may get a little jumbled, so please bare with me. Let me start this story by setting the stage and important characters.
Dm - pretty okay guy but a little hot headed at times (This is mildly important)
Me - Aasimar warlock fighter multi class
K - tabaxi monk and problem player
There are a few other players but they don't really play too much of a role in this story, so I'll bring them up as needed.
We were playing Rime of the Frostmaiden, my first long term campign and the first character that I geniunely enjoyed and charished. Like I said above, I was playing an Aasimar warlock fighter, who was in the rime escaping a bounty on her head and was making ends meet by smuggling goods in and out of the ten towns. I loved her so much.
The campign starts and everything is fine for the most part, there are some in character disagreements but it was all in good fun, or so I thought. K's character constantly called my character evil for worshipping the Raven queen (hexblade warlock), before any of the problems actually start to arise its non stop and I quote, "Your a smelly stinky warlock drow!" I worked with my dm when making my charcter, and we decied that she was techinally a half helf, her fatehr being a dark elf. The only thing that made her stand out as anything else was the fact that she was well over six feet tall and build like a brick shit house.
I found out after these first few sessions that this player was the kind to run ahead of the party, without telling anyone in character, and get into trouble. The first time this happened and they showed their true colors was when we were exploring a mineshaft and turns out there was a Grell hiding in there under the specific condition, written IN THE BOOK mind you, that it would only come out if someone were in the room ALONE. Can you guess who found it and almost died as a result? If you guessed K, then you would be right. After a battle and K almost going down, almost, they start to raise hell and say that it wasn't fair and they couldn't do anything (The grell had them grappled and held in the air the majority of the fight while everyone else peppered it with spells). The DMm had to tell them that it wasn't an encounter that he made, that it was in the book and supposed to be there.
We continue with our sessioned and what not, having an occational out burst from K about the game being too hard from them splitting the party and running off. Things do start to bubble when the dm punishes K in game for their antics. For example, they start acting out of line with their gods beleifs and their god stops talking to/interacting with them, to which K whines and throws a fit over. A few more issues that we run into along the way include, but are not limited to

• K threatening to burn down a mans house because they losyt a fight. This fight was something set up by a fight club, with rules. The whole point of the fights were to rank up and challenge the champ.
• K breaking into their moms house through the chimmney and getting their ass lit on fire.
• K constantly stealing from the people of the ten towns, which if you know, are starving and activley dying.
• K complaining during almost every combat that it was unfair, unbalanced, and not fun. All the while everyone else, myself included, was having a great time
• K leaving call multiple times during session, espesially during combat, and blaming it on ADHD. This specific one pissed both me and the dm off, who I stated was a hot head before. He did not take kindly to his time and resourses being wasted. I was upset because I also have ADHD and found a ways to manage it during sessions, even offered to help K! But they always turned me down and just continued with leaving session and upseting the dm over it, while contining to blaim it on a mental illness that them and I shared.

The major two events that earn this post its title goes as follow, in this order.
My charcter was assasinated.
Her past caught up with her and she was killed, bled out in the middle of the tundra. But the dm and I talked about this, and it was meant to happen. You see, the dm sent me some cool prostetic homebrew that I really wanted to use. So we made a plan for my character to get killed, lose an arm in the process and be brought back as a reborn with an arm made of magic from the Raven Queen. What I wasn't expecting was the dm to give me a choice in letting my character die or taking the reserection in exchange for soemthing. The original trade would have been that she comes back to life but no matter what she or her father did, she and him would forever have their fates severed and couldnt do anything to save eachother.
This is a deal my character would not have taken, and I would have let her stayed dead to keep in charcter. But the dm threw me a bone and gave me a different deal instead. To which every time she died here after, she would have to stay dead for a longer and longer time, each time. Like that stop motion Pinoccio moive if you've seen it. While the dm and I were talking about it, I thought it would be funny to just roll new stats to keep everyone on their toes as we ended session before I made my decision.
Que K absolutly losing their mind in our general chat, saying that if my character dies then they wanted a new character too. The only reason this would be an issue was because we had lost a lot of the original party, K and myself being the only characters left. The Dm had even stated a while before that if we lost all the pcs that he would consider ending the campign, as no ones character would have the same inititave to act and all that. So K threaning to make a new character because I might make a new character, made things more complicated. I had put almost a year of my time at this point and didn't want it to go down the drain because of this. Which also plays into why the dm game be an easier deal for my character to take for her life back.
They had an actual break down over this, why? I still have no clue.
The second event was a dragon encounter. An Adult Black Dragon that was destorying the Ten Towns.
It was the most high stakes encounter we had ever had at that point, and everyone was stressed to say the least. My self and the artificer cast fly on eachother so we can actually reach the dragon who keeps doing fly by breath attacks. After almost an hour and a half of combat we finally slay the dragon, with myself landing the final blow. I was fucking estatic! My first dragon encounter and was the one to kill it. K however, wasn't happy.
Imeadiatly they start screaming about how they couldn't land a hit on the dragon and were useless for the fight. Saying that the Dm ran the encounter wrong, which upset the dm who was once again running a written encounter from the module. They kept screaming over the vc while we all tried to calm them down. It ended with the relativly calm barbarian pc who snapped and went off on them. There was so much yelling and fighting that I just left. I heard from the dm after the fact that K threatened to leave, which I guess they thought would work like it had in the past, but everyone who was left in vc told them to go ahead.
They stayed and we continued to have issues with them threatening to kill off their character if things didn't go their way or they weren't the mvp of every session. Needless to say, the dm kicked them after a few more sessions.

Long read ahead.This is an entry I [F20] wrote one night after checking myself out in the mirror too long. I feel like this sometimes recently and just wanted to find out if it's a bad but normal thing or I'm unknowningly heading towards dysmorphia:
am I ugly? recently I've been getting more into taking photos of myself using my real camera. not the filterfied apps that can make me into whatever version of myself I think I should be. but I very often just get turned off by how unbelievably bare I look on my camera that I end up switching to the beauty cam in the end. even on there though, I turned down the filters so the only thing that would be very enhanced is my skin, which is still being attacked by acne despite the fact that I'm on my way to 19 years old. I hold myself to such a high regard but I'm starting to wonder if I'm being delusional and aren't as pretty as I think I am. I mean, sure, I dress well which makes me perceivable as attractive from a distance but is it that when you're up close and actually see my face you realise I'm not as hot? am I a Monet, as Cher in clueless said? when I look in the mirror I think I look good, fine sometimes but not ugly, but when I pull out my camera it just shatters what I'm beginning to believe is just an illusion of my own distorted view of myself. I'm also starting to pay attention to my body. sometimes I go to the bathroom in only my sports bra and, in those three tall mirrors I see how bony I am. I never particularly had a problem with my body before but I suppose now that I'm doubting my face I'm beginning to doubt my body too. I've been praised for my tiny waist or my 'perfect' ass but beyond that I wish my collar bone wasn't as striking or that maybe my arms weren't so thin and awkwardly spaced and bony when I lift them up to take photos of myself. even though I've always seen myself as pretty I've always, always felt a bit of doubt when someone else pointed it out, almost like a part of me didn't believe them. is that normal? all this is starting to make me wonder if I'm aiming too high for a partner as well. what if the person I think I am and the person I really am are deserving of two very different levels of partners. I'm not into anyone in this province or university because I hold myself so highly in terms of my dressing and looks but if it is that I'm lying to myself and aren't that amazing of a catch, then does that mean I have to accept whoever and whatever. everyone knows deep down that unattractive people unfortunate don't actually have a right of choice when it comes to who they accept love from. noone admits but it's a very common thing for people to think. similarly to how fat people are perceived as too conceited when they have any kind of standard for who they want to love. I wish I could fix my teeth and that my skin wasn't so bad. I wish I looked as good in photos as I think I do in the mirror.

Long read ahead.This is an entry I [F20] wrote one night after checking myself out in the mirror too long. I feel like this sometimes recently and just wanted to find out if it's a bad but normal thing or I'm unknowningly heading towards dysmorphia:
am I ugly? recently I've been getting more into taking photos of myself using my real camera. not the filterfied apps that can make me into whatever version of myself I think I should be. but I very often just get turned off by how unbelievably bare I look on my camera that I end up switching to the beauty cam in the end. even on there though, I turned down the filters so the only thing that would be very enhanced is my skin, which is still being attacked by acne despite the fact that I'm on my way to 19 years old. I hold myself to such a high regard but I'm starting to wonder if I'm being delusional and aren't as pretty as I think I am. I mean, sure, I dress well which makes me perceivable as attractive from a distance but is it that when you're up close and actually see my face you realise I'm not as hot? am I a Monet, as Cher in clueless said? when I look in the mirror I think I look good, fine sometimes but not ugly, but when I pull out my camera it just shatters what I'm beginning to believe is just an illusion of my own distorted view of myself. I'm also starting to pay attention to my body. sometimes I go to the bathroom in only my sports bra and, in those three tall mirrors I see how bony I am. I never particularly had a problem with my body before but I suppose now that I'm doubting my face I'm beginning to doubt my body too. I've been praised for my tiny waist or my 'perfect' ass but beyond that I wish my collar bone wasn't as striking or that maybe my arms weren't so thin and awkwardly spaced and bony when I lift them up to take photos of myself. even though I've always seen myself as pretty I've always, always felt a bit of doubt when someone else pointed it out, almost like a part of me didn't believe them. is that normal? all this is starting to make me wonder if I'm aiming too high for a partner as well. what if the person I think I am and the person I really am are deserving of two very different levels of partners. I'm not into anyone in this province or university because I hold myself so highly in terms of my dressing and looks but if it is that I'm lying to myself and aren't that amazing of a catch, then does that mean I have to accept whoever and whatever. everyone knows deep down that unattractive people unfortunate don't actually have a right of choice when it comes to who they accept love from. noone admits but it's a very common thing for people to think. similarly to how fat people are perceived as too conceited when they have any kind of standard for who they want to love. I wish I could fix my teeth and that my skin wasn't so bad. I wish I looked as good in photos as I think I do in the mirror.

Long read ahead.This is an entry I [F20] wrote one night after checking myself out in the mirror too long. I feel like this sometimes recently and just wanted to find out if it's a bad but normal thing or I'm unknowningly heading towards dysmorphia:
am I ugly? recently I've been getting more into taking photos of myself using my real camera. not the filterfied apps that can make me into whatever version of myself I think I should be. but I very often just get turned off by how unbelievably bare I look on my camera that I end up switching to the beauty cam in the end. even on there though, I turned down the filters so the only thing that would be very enhanced is my skin, which is still being attacked by acne despite the fact that I'm on my way to 19 years old. I hold myself to such a high regard but I'm starting to wonder if I'm being delusional and aren't as pretty as I think I am. I mean, sure, I dress well which makes me perceivable as attractive from a distance but is it that when you're up close and actually see my face you realise I'm not as hot? am I a Monet, as Cher in clueless said? when I look in the mirror I think I look good, fine sometimes but not ugly, but when I pull out my camera it just shatters what I'm beginning to believe is just an illusion of my own distorted view of myself. I'm also starting to pay attention to my body. sometimes I go to the bathroom in only my sports bra and, in those three tall mirrors I see how bony I am. I never particularly had a problem with my body before but I suppose now that I'm doubting my face I'm beginning to doubt my body too. I've been praised for my tiny waist or my 'perfect' ass but beyond that I wish my collar bone wasn't as striking or that maybe my arms weren't so thin and awkwardly spaced and bony when I lift them up to take photos of myself. even though I've always seen myself as pretty I've always, always felt a bit of doubt when someone else pointed it out, almost like a part of me didn't believe them. is that normal? all this is starting to make me wonder if I'm aiming too high for a partner as well. what if the person I think I am and the person I really am are deserving of two very different levels of partners. I'm not into anyone in this province or university because I hold myself so highly in terms of my dressing and looks but if it is that I'm lying to myself and aren't that amazing of a catch, then does that mean I have to accept whoever and whatever. everyone knows deep down that unattractive people unfortunate don't actually have a right of choice when it comes to who they accept love from. noone admits but it's a very common thing for people to think. similarly to how fat people are perceived as too conceited when they have any kind of standard for who they want to love. I wish I could fix my teeth and that my skin wasn't so bad. I wish I looked as good in photos as I think I do in the mirror.

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.

Female, 35 years old, otherwise healthy.
3 of our 5 family members in our household have a red face rash. We get red cheeks and chins. It comes & goes. It doesn't itch. It feels mildly burny. It looks like a sunburn or like we got too hot. No other symptoms, but it did start when we had a cold that's sense resolved. It's not on any other part of our body. Just cheeks, chin, sometimes nose, forehead, and front of neck. It'll be gone for days then boom randomly happens. I cannot figure out what would cause myself & my children (ages 7 and 5) to all get the same rash but not the other 2 family members.

2 years later, from 7 miles new to 50k miles, and still going strong!
I am a lucky few it seems. I have all factory parts outside of a front bumper, one wheel and all four tires.
Short story shorter. Front bumper, I got Wham Baam Honda Bumped in a parking lot. Pot hole bent wheel. Used up the Pierellis.
I can say with all confidence. This car... It rattles like crazy. Speakers are crackling. Visibility is poor. The driver door is huge and unwieldy. The back seats are tiny. The trunk is too small....... I still wouldn't want to trade it in for anything. Neva is what I've always wanted in a hot hatch. 2 years later and the SMG's have only gone up while the MPG's keep going down.
Tahoe, Yosemite, Malibu Canyon, and all the Twisties in California are such a blast. I can't help but crack a smile every time Neva Crackles and Pops. Not to mention I love how it looks from every angle. Not FK5 CTR boy racer but also not GTI egg. It's perfect. It's stock stance looks so cool. Especially from the back 🍑 ... I don't feel like I have to lower it. The way it looks is just amazing to me.
Neva's got some battle scars. The front bumper was not painted with the correct white when it was replaced, most can't tell, but I can. She's got some road rash, I never got around to PPF her. We go raw and we go hard.
She's got a slight rough idle in normal, sometimes. I'm usually in N or Custom N (normal springs) so it's a non-issue. Has a bit of a tremble at speed, I believe it to be my commute road though as when I'm on "new" asphalt I don't feel the tremble. Everything in the engine bay sounds healthy.
50,000 miles of nothing but Smiles, Surprises, and Ngagement. Sorry I had too...
Drive safe everyone!

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.

It started with me not really being me, and my family and friends being people I don't actually know. I was up at late hours, as usual. My friend was in my bedroom sleeping. I felt off, like there was something lurking around. Then I see it. This giant mass of dark colours, a scary face with teeth, and long arms that could stretch and also work as deadly claws. He was there for my friend. He comes for you while you sleep. He somehow made me believe that it is a painless way to go, and made me okay with him taking my friend. There was a darker motive though. When he tried to go into the bedroom, my parents woke up. My father asked why I was awake still, and I just shrugged my shoulders without really knowing what to say about the creature I just saw. Even then, he would have thought I was hallucinating from lack of sleep. The sound of my parents waking up, woke up my friend. She started playing loud music, and somehow knew about what was happening. Then I got a phone call. "Don't let them take you or anyone out the window. They will cut you until it feels like fire, and make you wish you were dead. Trust me." "They?", I thought. Thats when he went back to sneaking into the bedroom, and just as I was about to intervene, something grabs me, and pulls me back. Slicing into my sides, I started screaming. Was this what the girl over the phone was talking about? The giant creature pulls my friend out the window, and thats when I get released and whoever was holding me darts out the window to go with them. My parents came out of their bedroom once again because of all the screaming. I'm hysterical, crying, bleeding, and in a lot of pain. They ask me whats going on, almost in a yelling tone, and thats when I spill about everything I saw, what he said to me, and the phone call. My mother looks skeptical. My father looks like he believes me, but wishes he couldn't. This is when he decides we're all going to get my friend back. Me, my mother, my father and my younger brother. We leave the house and head in the direction they launched out the window. After a lot of walking, we come across a town that seems like it shouldn't exist. Its small, but filled with life, and kids, and a fun feeling. My father makes us pick up the pace. "We're being followed." He says in a hushed tone. Thats when I see it. Its a girl, in a pale hoodie and jeans, with bandages over half of her face, and the hood over her head. She could pass for my friend, but very clearly isn't. Her body language was too different, and why would she follow us instead of running to us. We lose her in the alleys, but then decide to make the mistake of cutting her off in the street. We ask her what she wants, she doesn't reply, but makes a few steps closer. Suddenly the town that was so filled with life, and the sun, and colour, spins under us. Everything is red, there's screaming, dead bodies laying and hanging everywhere in the streets. The girl that looked like my friend, starts running. She disappeared around a corner. Once we turned the same corner, there was a gate. It looked like it could fall any second, or like there was a lot of patch work done to it. We go through, and that's when the testing began. At first it was just running away from different beasts, or people who had gone insane from being here for so long. Then there were two actual trials. We had to crawl up into these vents, while they were on. It wasn't too hot or too cold, but there was enough air flowing to make us slip, a lot. All four of us held hands. The openings in the bottom would pop open randomly, in attempt to lose one of us. My mother was first in line, and I almost lost her during one of the vents popping open. In the very bottom of each opening it was different. A different way to die each time, and none of them quick. Her hand slipped from mine, but I had caught her just in time. If it weren't for my father holding my hand, I would've fallen through with her. We continued on, and we eventually make it to the end. At the end there was this pipe that went downhill. There was running water all through it, so we could easily slide down. There was nowhere else to go, it was our next test. Still holding hands, we jumped in. It seemed easy enough. Other than the random spikes, or deformed monsters coming out of the water and trying to kill us, we were pulling through just fine. Then, that's when we all heard him. Mid-slide, his voice echoes. "The young one must eat to keep his energy up." That put all of us on edge. My little brother had to eat little fruits out of the water. That was the actual test. So many thoughts ran through my head, but the one that was the loudest was a worry of him getting poisoned. But, he is naive. He just grabbed one and ate it. He is too young to have such worries. After that, we had to walk through a hallway, almost office like. The rooms you could see into, since the walls were just windows. Once we looked ahead again, at the end of the hall, was him. He was standing there, so still that we didn't notice him the first time. In the room next to him, we could see her. My friend was on her knees, blindfolded. I ran to her, and the creature just let me pass. I removed the blindfold from her face, and when she saw me, she gripped me so tightly into a hug.

I’m 31 years old and 9m postpartum with my second baby. 2 months after she was born I started to have some major fatigue. My OB and pcp both told me it was depression. Tried Zoloft, lexapro and Wellbutrin. All were the worst experience of my life with awful side effects and Wellbutrin actually made me suicidal. Finally I went to another pcp who actually listened and thought maybe this isn’t depression- he ran a ton of blood work. My symptoms are major fatigue to the point im falling asleep during the day, joint pain, pins and needles in my hands/up my arms, feet and up my spine, brain fog and trouble concentrating or getting my words out, anxiety, trouble controlling my temperature (typically always hot and when it’s bad I get a rash on my face) puffy neck face and back- I almost look like I have a hump. I feel super swollen like a balloon that needs to pop. I’m also struggling with weight gain/can’t loose it.
Results- positive ANA, false positive Lyme disease, positive Epstein Barr and parvovirus however I don’t know if these are showing up from past infection? My sedimentation rate was 30 and my CRP was 23.5 they also did my TSH which was 2.3 but then went up to 4.5 within a few weeks. My T4 was .87 I’m at a complete loss of what is going on but it’s messing so bad with my functioning and being able to take care of my young children.

Original Prompt

Chapter 26
"Okay, what about...that one. The five stars about...two handspans above that dune?" Cass asked.
Kher looked where Cass was pointing, holding his torch aside so he could get a clear view of the stars.
"That is one of the Twins," Kher said, "See the three stars to the right? That is her brother, fleeing the Serpent."
"Weird." Cass had unbraided her hair earlier in the night because of the chill. Now she was trying to hold it out of her face so she could see the stars clearly. "In Sammos they're the Mother and her child, running to embrace each other after being parted over the winter season."
"Or reaching for each when the winter floods wash the boy away," Charis added. They were riding on Cass's other side, holding their torch down low over the side of their camel to keep the light off of Cass's left arm. She appreciated the gesture.
"In Chol they don't' have a name for those stars," Cass continued, "but they do have a Serpent. I don't think it's visible this time of year though. And in Harenae it's the 'Father and Son'. The father's teaching his son how to hunt."
"Do they have a story in Desheret?" Kher asked.
"I haven't heard one." Cass turned in her saddle to look back along the short caravan. Kebb was nowhere to be seen, probably keeping vigil in the rear. Anatu was attached to one of the carts, which only left Nuu as someone she could see to ask.
"Nuu!" She called, waving. They looked her way, eventually approaching. "What do you call those stars?"
"Is there a tale to them?" Kher asked.
"The three bright ones?" They looked skyward vacuously for a moment. "That is Sobek, a large crocodile that follows the flood waters of the Great River. Those stars are his open maw."
"What about the five stars to the left of them?"
"The two lower ones," Nuu said while pointing, "are his body. The upper three are his tail curled around."
"Ah yes, I can see it!" Kher said excitedly. "A more creative tale, I think. I wonder how it is yours is so different from our tales. We call them the-"
"Hey, Cass," Charis whispered, leaning closer, "you mentioned I could see your arm after dark?"
She looked down at her bandaged limb and flexed her fingers uncomfortably. The wrappings were much tighter now that she'd had ample time out of the sun.
"Okay, but keep your torch away." She tugged on the knot holding the bandages in place, let them loosen, and unwrapped her arm. Charis gasped as her skin showed in the starlight with thin motes of light of its own.
Under the light of the sun or flame, Cass's arm was thin and the skin looked brittle and burnt. The comparison to burnt wood was not uncommon. But under the stars and moon it looked wholly different.
"Beautiful," Charis whispered, gazing at the black abyss. The colors and patterns within it were similar yet very different from the sky above. As Cass moved the lights moved as well, as though flowing through her limb. Never the same pattern twice.
"Thanks." People were always mesmerized by her arm at night. The ones who weren't convinced it was a blight of some sort, at least. She extended her hand to Charis. They looked up at her briefly for permission, then took her hand in theirs. Unlike during the day, there was no pain. Their skin didn't feel uncomfortably warm either. In fact it was rather cool and pleasant.
Charis tucked their long curls behind one ear as they laced their fingers with hers. She lifted her hand closer to their face so they could take a closer look.
"It's strange," they said softly, "your hand looks so different, so..."
"Weird?" Cass offered.
They shook their head. "No...magical. But if I close my eyes I would be unable to tell this hand from your other."
Weird, odd, cursed, strange, these were what Cass was used to hearing her arm called. The only person who'd ever complimented her on it like that - who'd called it magical - before was Helen. Back before the war, before she'd killed the King of Sammos. When their encounters were furtive and hidden at night.
"Oh?" Cass looked away and tried to change the subject. "Can't tell your left from right?"
Charis chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze.
"What's going on here?" Nuu asked while riding closer. Their torch illuminated Cass's arm and the pain instantly came back. It wasn't as bad as if she were caught out in sunlight, but the entwined fingers became sore. She only barely got her hand out of Charis's before her hand clenched reflexively.
"Damnit!" Cass swore.
"You need to back away, Nuu." Charis said hotly.
"Calm, everyone, calm." Kher spoke up. "No need for such vehemence. Nuu, I believe they want some...alone time?" He gave Cass a big smile through his braided beard.
Nuu narrowed his eyes at her. "I thought I saw her changing."
"I wasn't. You'd know if I was." She felt bad enough every time she saw their sister's brass leg. Being reminded that they were survivors of one of her attacks was not a pleasant vortex of emotions.
"If you lose control-"
"I don't lose control! I've never lost control. It's not something I'm not in control of." Cass clenched her left fist, reminding herself it wasn't worth hurting them. "Put your torch out and I'll show you."
"I've already seen it."
"You've seen it as an enemy. How about I show you what it actually looks like?" Cass turned in her saddle and extended the black and burnt-looking hand. Nuu recoiled, but there was a curiosity behind their eyes. They gave a quick glance at Charis who lowered their torch behind their camel again. Nuu did the same, and Kher followed suit. Bathed in darkness again, they all looked at the starry field of Cass's arm.

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

23 M- ’ve been dealing with what i believe is dry scalp for so long now, unable to find a permanent solution. i used to think it was just seasonal in the summer heat, but it’s been constant for so long now.
My main issue is that whenever i engage in any moderate physical exercise, creating any sort of sweat, my scalp becomes unbearably itchy and painful. (currently writing this while hiking in sunny 70° weather because of how bad it is). i try my best not to scratch and irritate it , but it is near impossible to leave alone. i am constantly running my hands through my hair for temporary relief. it makes weight lifting dreadful.
Also at work, when anything stressful happens and i become nervous and warm (slightly sweaty) , the itching comes on.
I have short to medium length curly hair . I have tried Nizoral, plenty dandruff shampoos, oils like Aragon and rosemary directly on my scalp. I also shower in luke warm water instead of hot, i use what i think are good moisturizing shampoos and conditioners, washing every 2-3 days, i also use leave in conditioners to style my hair pretty often, not sure how that impacts it. what has helped in the past , although not consistently, is head and shoulders. i would use it more often but folks say its not good for your hair.
Looking for any advice and help. TIA
Side note, it may be completely unrelated but after every time i shower , no matter where, my body (arms and legs the most) become so so itchy as well. even with oils or lotions, but for like 10-15 minutes and then it’s fine.

Where the body is, the eagles will gather together. - Luke 17:37
Jesus has been given all authority in heaven and on earth. (Matthew 28:18, Daniel 7:27)
Still, the demonic realm is fighting against Him and His armies. (Ephesians 6:12, 1 Corinthians 10:20-24, Leviticus 17:7, Psalm 106:37)
They fight for territory in the hearts of men. (Daniel 2:35) Their weapons are lies and warped logic. The battle is to conquer the human soul. (James 1:8, 1 Kings 18:21)
Jesus likened the hearts of mankind to a farmer's field. (Matthew 13:38) The logic we're exposed to has the potential to change us and use us to propagate it. (Mark 4:14, Romans 12:2, Leviticus 18:30) The logic we receive is the seed we're sown with. (Hosea 8:7, 1 John 3:24, Luke 8:15) We discard "propaganda" we don't agree with.
What we propagate, proves who we allowed to sow our hearts. (John 8:42-44, Luke 6:45) Our heavenly Father's logic is the bread-corn, the wheat. (Isaiah 53:10, Hosea 2:23, John 1:12, John 12:24) It benefits life. It's purpose is to sustain life and make it enjoyable. (Isaiah 55:2-3) The enemy's logic is the counterfeit. It looks like wheat at first, but does not pass the test of nourishing others. (Matthew 12:34, Romans 10:2-3, Isaiah 58)
It takes from the common ground and uses the energy it receives to stand tall while it can . It provides nothing of value. (Matthew 13:39, Deuteronomy 32:17)
When a person speaks, it is always to influence the world around them. We are wise to separate from those with bad logic, so that we are not contaminated by it. (Matthew 5:30, Genesis 19:12-13, Isaiah 52:11, 2 Corinthians 6:17)
When the harvest comes, the poisonous weeds are thrown out to keep them from contaminating what is good. (Matthew 13:30, 1 John 3:15-18)
As God's creation, we were made to work together to sustain life. Once sin entered our experience, we became divided. The Bible explains that this division is between the living and the dead. Because God is eternal, He sees death long before we do. His word teaches us to see the spiritual cancer of sin, so we can avoid the death it brings. God made us alive, and He wants us to stay that way. Those who accept our Creator's logic don't unite with this world, they only pass through it. (John 11:26, Hebrews 9:27, Isaiah 57:1, Genesis 5:24) Like harvested grain, our Father saves life-bringers for the age to come. (Luke 17:22-37) When Jesus said, "I am the bread of life," He gave us an example to follow. (John 6:35, John 6:51, Romans 12:1, Psalm 16:7-11, Psalm 17:13-15, Matthew 10:25)
Death is not only a state, it is a system. This system devours itself and anything that gets in its path. Jesus explained how this death-system operates. He said, "Where the corpse, (a body lacking His Spirit) is, there the vultures will be gathered. (Galatians 5:14-15, Proverbs 18:21) A carrion-eater sees something dying and does not help it live. Instead it takes advantage of its neighbor while it can. Those who feed on death are blind to the path of life. (Job 15:14, Matthew 13:15-17, 1Timothy 4:1-2, 2 Corinthians 4:4) Their logic has transformed them and robbed them of truth. (Matthew 13:19, Proverbs 25:26) They thirst for blood like a deer thirsts for water. Their logic is unclean. (Matthew 10:16, Job 39:27-30, Psalm 42:1*)
When Jesus entered the justice system of men, He did so, knowing it would cost His life on earth. (1 Corinthians 4:5, Matthew 16:24-26, Isaiah 53) His sacrifice and example show us how to break free from the system of sin and death. (Luke 9:22-27) Jesus lived out the logic of God and proved it was good when He overcame death. (John 11:25, Genesis 5:24, 2 Kings 2:9-11, Mark 16:6)
This is the good logic that will make us fit for eternity. It is God's prayer - what He asks of us.
Listen, you who rule with God (Shema, Yisrael) (Deuteronomy 6:4-9, Mark 12:29-31)
The Lord our God, the Lord is One. (God is not divided by death-bringing logic. This truth is what makes God eternal Numbers 23:19)
And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind. (be united with His logic and become eternal John 8:32, John 17:21-26)
And love your neighbor as yourself (treat the body of others as you do your own body. Leviticus 19:18, Ephesians 5:28-30, Deuteronomy 15:7-11, Proverbs 19:17)
Today, if you hear His voice, follow it into a new life with Him. He loves you. He gave up everything to have you with Him forever. There is no better time to separate from death than right now.
Scripture references:
Luke 17:37

Where the body is, the eagles will gather together.

Jesus has been given all authority in heaven and on earth.
Matthew 28:18 NKJV

18 And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, "All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.

Daniel 7:27 NKJV

27 Then the kingdom and dominion, And the greatness of the kingdoms under the whole heaven, Shall be given to the people, the saints of the Most High. His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, And all dominions shall serve and obey Him.'

The demonic realm still fights against Messiah's Kingdom in our hearts.
Ephesians 6:12 NKJV

12 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.

1 Corinthians 10:20-24 NKJV

20 Rather, that the things which the Gentiles sacrifice they sacrifice to demons and not to God, and I do not want you to have fellowship with demons. 21 You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons; you cannot partake of the Lord's table and of the table of demons. 22 Or do we provoke the Lord to jealousy? Are we stronger than He? 23 All things are lawful for me, but not all things are helpful; all things are lawful for me, but not all things edify. 24 Let no one seek his own, but each one the other's well-being.

Leviticus 17:7 NKJV

7 "They shall no more offer their sacrifices to demons, after whom they have played the harlot. This shall be a statute forever for them throughout their generations." '

Psalm 106:37 NKJV

37 They even sacrificed their sons And their daughters to demons,

Evil influences fight to divide us against God's eternal logic. God's logic of love works to unite us.
Daniel 2:35 NKJV

35 "Then the iron, the clay, the bronze, the silver, and the gold were crushed together, and became like chaff from the summer threshing floors; the wind carried them away so that no trace of them was found. And the stone that struck the image became a great mountain and filled the whole earth.

Daniel 2:44-45 NKJV 44 "And in the days of these kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom which shall never be destroyed; and the kingdom shall not be left to other people; it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand forever. 45 "Inasmuch as you saw that the stone was cut out of the mountain without hands, and that it broke in pieces the iron, the bronze, the clay, the silver, and the gold--the great God has made known to the king what will come to pass after this. The dream is certain, and its interpretation is sure."
James 1:8

8 a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.

1 Kings 18:21 NKJV

21 And Elijah came to all the people, and said, "How long will you falter between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow Him; but if Baal, follow him." But the people answered him not a word.

Jesus likened the hearts of man to a farmer's field.
Matthew 13:38 NKJV

38 "The field is the world, the good seeds are the sons of the kingdom, but the tares are the sons of the wicked one.

Logic has the power to change us and use us to share it.
Mark 4:14 NKJV

14 "The sower sows the word.

Romans 12:2 NKJV

2 And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

Leviticus 18:30 NKJV

30 'Therefore you shall keep My ordinance, so that you do not commit any of these abominable customs which were committed before you, and that you do not defile yourselves by them: I am the LORD your God.' "

*The logic we receive is the seed we're sown with. We discard "propaganda" we don't agree with.
Hosea 8:7 NKJV

7 "They sow the wind, And reap the whirlwind. The stalk has no bud; It shall never produce meal. If it should produce, Aliens would swallow it up.

1 John 3:24 NKJV

24 Now he who keeps His commandments abides in Him, and He in him. And by this we know that He abides in us, by the Spirit whom He has given us.

Luke 8:15 NKJV

15 "But the ones that fell on the good ground are those who, having heard the word with a noble and good heart, keep it and bear fruit with patience.

What we propagate, proves who we allowed to seed our hearts.
John 8:42-44 NKJV

42 Jesus said to them, "If God were your Father, you would love Me, for I proceeded forth and came from God; nor have I come of Myself, but He sent Me. 43 "Why do you not understand My speech? Because you are not able to listen to My word. 44 "You are of your father the devil, and the desires of your father you want to do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it.

Luke 6:45 NKJV

45 "A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil. For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.

Our heavenly Father's logic is like the wheat of our field. He supports life and makes it worth living. He makes sacrifices in order to see us thrive.
John 6:51 NKJV

51 "I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world."

Isaiah 53:10 NKJV

10 Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief. When You make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days, And the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in His hand.

Hosea 2:23 NKJV

23 Then I will sow her for Myself in the earth, And I will have mercy on her who had not obtained mercy; Then I will say to those who were not My people, 'You are My people!' And they shall say, 'You are my God!' "

John 1:12 NKJV

12 But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name:

John 12:24 NKJV

24 "Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.

Isaiah 55:2-3 NKJV

2 Why do you spend money for what is not bread, And your wages for what does not satisfy? Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, And let your soul delight itself in abundance. 3 Incline your ear, and come to Me. Hear, and your soul shall live; And I will make an everlasting covenant with you--The sure mercies of David.

The enemy's logic is the counterfeit lifestyle. It entices us to promote ourselves, regardless of whether we preserve and support life.
Matthew 12:34 NKJV

34 "Brood of vipers! How can you, being evil, speak good things? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.

Romans 10:2-3 NKJV

2 For I bear them witness that they have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge. 3 For they being ignorant of God's righteousness, and seeking to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted to the righteousness of God.

Isaiah 58:1-14 NKJV

1 "Cry aloud, spare not; Lift up your voice like a trumpet; Tell My people their transgression, And the house of Jacob their sins. 2 Yet they seek Me daily, And delight to know My ways, As a nation that did righteousness, And did not forsake the ordinance of their God. They ask of Me the ordinances of justice; They take delight in approaching God. 3 'Why have we fasted,' they say, 'and You have not seen? Why have we afflicted our souls, and You take no notice?' "In fact, in the day of your fast you find pleasure, And exploit all your laborers. 4 Indeed you fast for strife and debate, And to strike with the fist of wickedness. You will not fast as you do this day, To make your voice heard on high. 5 Is it a fast that I have chosen, A day for a man to afflict his soul? Is it to bow down his head like a bulrush, And to spread out sackcloth and ashes? Would you call this a fast, And an acceptable day to the LORD? 6 "Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, To undo the heavy burdens, To let the oppressed go free, And that you break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, And that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; When you see the naked, that you cover him, And not hide yourself from your own flesh? 8 Then your light shall break forth like the morning, Your healing shall spring forth speedily, And your righteousness shall go before you; The glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. 9 Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; You shall cry, and He will say, 'Here I am.' "If you take away the yoke from your midst, The pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, 10 If you extend your soul to the hungry And satisfy the afflicted soul, Then your light shall dawn in the darkness, And your darkness shall be as the noonday. 11 The LORD will guide you continually, And satisfy your soul in drought, And strengthen your bones; You shall be like a watered garden, And like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. 12 Those from among you Shall build the old waste places; You shall raise up the foundations of many generations; And you shall be called the Repairer of the Breach, The Restorer of Streets to Dwell In. 13 "If you turn away your foot from the Sabbath, From doing your pleasure on My holy day, And call the Sabbath a delight, The holy day of the LORD honorable, And shall honor Him, not doing your own ways, Nor finding your own pleasure, Nor speaking your own words, 14 Then you shall delight yourself in the LORD; And I will cause you to ride on the high hills of the earth, And feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father. The mouth of the LORD has spoken."

When we fail to recognize community above self-promotion, we drain life of what makes it valuable, without a way to recharge that energy. Selfishness is how we unite with the father of lies and death.
Matthew 13:39 NKJV

39 "The enemy who sowed them is the devil, the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are the angels.

Deuteronomy 32:17 NKJV

17 They sacrificed to demons, not to God, To gods they did not know, To new gods, new arrivals That your fathers did not fear.

When a person speaks, it is always to influence the world around them. We are wise to separate from those with bad logic, so that we are not contaminated by it.
Matthew 5:30 NKJV

30 "And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you; for it is more profitable for you that one of your members perish, than for your whole body to be cast into hell.

Genesis 19:12-13 NKJV

12 Then the men said to Lot, "Have you anyone else here? Son-in-law, your sons, your daughters, and whomever you have in the city--take them out of this place! 13 "For we will destroy this place, because the outcry against them has grown great before the face of the LORD, and the LORD has sent us to destroy it."

Isaiah 52:11 NKJV

11 Depart! Depart! Go out from there, Touch no unclean thing; Go out from the midst of her, Be clean, You who bear the vessels of the LORD.

2 Corinthians 6:17 NKJV

17 Therefore "Come out from among them And be separate, says the Lord. Do not touch what is unclean, And I will receive you."

When the harvest of our souls comes upon us, those with toxic logic are excluded from the age to come. This is to keep them from bringing death into heaven the way they brought death into the earth.
Matthew 13:30 NKJV

30 'Let both grow together until the harvest, and at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, "First gather together the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them, but gather the wheat into my barn." ' "

1 John 3:15-18 NKJV

15 Whoever hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him. 16 By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. 17 But whoever has this world's goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him? 18 My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.

Those who accept our Creator's logic don't unite with death, they only pass through it. Some avoid it altogether.
John 11:26 NKJV

26 "And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?"

Hebrews 9:27 NKJV

27 And as it is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgment,

Isaiah 57:1 NKJV

1 The righteous perishes, And no man takes it to heart; Merciful men are taken away, While no one considers That the righteous is taken away from evil.

Genesis 5:24 NKJV

24 And Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him.

1 Thessalonians 4:17 NKJV

17 Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.

Like a farmer harvests grain, our Father saves life-bringers for the age to come.
Luke 17:22-37 NKJV

22 Then He said to the disciples, "The days will come when you will desire to see one of the days of the Son of Man, and you will not see it. 23 "And they will say to you, 'Look here!' or 'Look there!' Do not go after them or follow them. 24 "For as the lightning that flashes out of one part under heaven shines to the other part under heaven, so also the Son of Man will be in His day. 25 "But first He must suffer many things and be rejected by this generation. 26 "And as it was in the days of Noah, so it will be also in the days of the Son of Man: 27 "They ate, they drank, they married wives, they were given in marriage, until the day that Noah entered the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all. 28 "Likewise as it was also in the days of Lot: They ate, they drank, they bought, they sold, they planted, they built; 29 "but on the day that Lot went out of Sodom it rained fire and brimstone from heaven and destroyed them all. 30 "Even so will it be in the day when the Son of Man is revealed. 31 "In that day, he who is on the housetop, and his goods are in the house, let him not come down to take them away. And likewise the one who is in the field, let him not turn back. 32 "Remember Lot's wife. 33 "Whoever seeks to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it. 34 "I tell you, in that night there will be two men in one bed: the one will be taken and the other will be left. 35 "Two women will be grinding together: the one will be taken and the other left. 36 "Two men will be in the field: the one will be taken and the other left." 37 And they answered and said to Him, "Where, Lord?" So He said to them, "Wherever the body is, there the eagles will be gathered together."

Genesis 25:8 NKJV

8 Then Abraham breathed his last and died in a good old age, an old man and full of years, and was gathered to his people.

Matthew 13:47-52 NKJV

47 "Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a dragnet that was cast into the sea and gathered some of every kind, 48 "which, when it was full, they drew to shore; and they sat down and gathered the good into vessels, but threw the bad away. 49 "So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come forth, separate the wicked from among the just, 50 "and cast them into the furnace of fire. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth." 51 Jesus said to them, "Have you understood all these things?" They said to Him, "Yes, Lord." 52 Then He said to them, "Therefore every scribe instructed concerning the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who brings out of his treasure things new and old."

When Jesus said, "I am the bread of life," He gave us an example to follow.
John 6:35 NKJV

35 And Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.

John 6:51 NKJV

51 "I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world."

Romans 12:1 NKJV

1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.

Psalm 16:7-11 NKJV

7 I will bless the LORD who has given me counsel; My heart also instructs me in the night seasons. 8 I have set the LORD always before me; Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved. 9 Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will rest in hope. 10 For You will not leave my soul in Sheol, Nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption. 11 You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 17:13-15 NKJV

13 Arise, O LORD, Confront him, cast him down; Deliver my life from the wicked with Your sword, 14 With Your hand from men, O LORD, From men of the world who have their portion in this life, And whose belly You fill with Your hidden treasure. They are satisfied with children, And leave the rest of their possession for their babes. 15 As for me, I will see Your face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake in Your likeness.

Matthew 10:25 NKJV

25 "It is enough for a disciple that he be like his teacher, and a servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more will they call those of his household!

Death is a system which devours itself. Jesus explained how this death-system operates. He said, "Where the corpse (a body lacking His Spirit of life) is, there the vultures will be gathered.
Galatians 5:14-15 NKJV

14 For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." 15 But if you bite and devour one another, beware lest you be consumed by one another!

Proverbs 18:21 NKJV

21 Death and life are in the power of the tongue, And those who love it will eat its fruit.

A carrion-eater sees something dying and does not help it live. Instead it takes advantage of its neighbor while it can. Those who feed on death are blind to the path of life. Job's "friends" didn't acknowledge God's power to make people holy.
Job 15:14 NKJV

14 "What is man, that he could be pure? And he who is born of a woman, that he could be righteous?

Matthew 13:15-17 NKJV

15 For the hearts of this people have grown dull. Their ears are hard of hearing, And their eyes they have closed, Lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears, Lest they should understand with their hearts and turn, So that I should heal them.' 16 "But blessed are your eyes for they see, and your ears for they hear; 17 "for assuredly, I say to you that many prophets and righteous men desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it.

1 Timothy 4:1-2 NKJV

1 Now the Spirit expressly says that in latter times some will depart from the faith, giving heed to deceiving spirits and doctrines of demons, 2 speaking lies in hypocrisy, having their own conscience seared with a hot iron,

2 Corinthians 4:4 NKJV

4 whose minds the god of this age has blinded, who do not believe, lest the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine on them.

Those who accept death as "part of life" cannot break free from sin because of their polluted logic. Garbage in, garbage out. We thirst for what we love.
**Matthew 13:19 NKJV

19 "When anyone hears the word of the kingdom, and does not understand it, then the wicked one comes and snatches away what was sown in his heart. This is he who received seed by the wayside.

Proverbs 25:26 NKJV

26 A righteous man who falters before the wicked Is like a murky spring and a polluted well.

Matthew 10:16 NKJV

16 "Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.

Job 39:27-30 NKJV

27 Does the eagle mount up at your command, And make its nest on high? 28 On the rock it dwells and resides, On the crag of the rock and the stronghold. 29 From there it spies out the prey; Its eyes observe from afar. 30 Its young ones suck up blood; And where the slain are, there it is."

Psalm 42:1 NKJV

1 As the deer pants for the water brooks, So pants my soul for You, O God.

When Jesus entered the justice system of men, He did so, knowing it would cost His life on earth. His sacrifice and example show us how to break free from the system of sin and death.
1 Corinthians 4:5 NKJV

5 Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord comes, who will both bring to light the hidden things of darkness and reveal the counsels of the hearts. Then each one's praise will come from God.

Matthew 16:24-26 NKJV

24 Then Jesus said to His disciples, "If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. 25 "For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. 26 "For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?

Isaiah 53:1-12 NKJV

1 Who has believed our report? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? 2 For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant, And as a root out of dry ground. He has no form or comeliness; And when we see Him, There is no beauty that we should desire Him. 3 He is despised and rejected by men, A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him. 4 Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted. 5 But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed. 6 All we like sheep have gone astray; We have turned, every one, to his own way; And the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all. 7 He was oppressed and He was afflicted, Yet He opened not His mouth; He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, And as a sheep before its shearers is silent, So He opened not His mouth. 8 He was taken from prison and from judgment, And who will declare His generation? For He was cut off from the land of the living; For the transgressions of My people He was stricken. 9 And they made His grave with the wicked--But with the rich at His death, Because He had done no violence, Nor was any deceit in His mouth. 10 Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief. When You make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days, And the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in His hand. 11 He shall see the labor of His soul, and be satisfied. By His knowledge My righteous Servant shall justify many, For He shall bear their iniquities. 12 Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great, And He shall divide the spoil with the strong, Because He poured out His soul unto death, And He was numbered with the transgressors, And He bore the sin of many, And made intercession for the transgressors.

Luke 9:22-27 NKJV

22 saying, "The Son of Man must suffer many things, and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised the third day." 23 Then He said to them all, "If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me. 24 "For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it. 25 "For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and is himself destroyed or lost? 26 "For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when He comes in His own glory, and in His Father's, and of the holy angels. 27 "But I tell you truly, there are some standing here who shall not taste death till they see the kingdom of God."

Jesus lived out the logic of God and proved it was good when He overcame death.
John 11:25 NKJV

25 Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live.

Genesis 5:24 NKJV

24 And Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him.

2 Kings 2:9-11 NKJV

9 And so it was, when they had crossed over, that Elijah said to Elisha, "Ask! What may I do for you, before I am taken away from you?" Elisha said, "Please let a double portion of your spirit be upon me." 10 So he said, "You have asked a hard thing. Nevertheless, if you see me when I am taken from you, it shall be so for you; but if not, it shall not be so." 11 Then it happened, as they continued on and talked, that suddenly a chariot of fire appeared with horses of fire, and separated the two of them; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.

Mark 16:6 NKJV

And he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him.

Jesus' logic makes us fit for eternity. He shows us that love is the only way to live and thrive forever. Jesus is the Word of God. He is the same yesterday, today and forever
Listen, you who rule with God (Shema, Yisrael)
Deuteronomy 6:4-9 NKJV

4 "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one! 5 "You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. 6 "And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. 7 "You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. 8 "You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. 9 "You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

Mark 12:29-31 NKJV

29 Jesus answered him, "The first of all the commandments is: 'Hear, O Israel, the LORD our God, the LORD is one. 30 'And you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.' This is the first commandment. 31 "And the second, like it, is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these."

The Lord our God, the Lord is One. (God is not divided by death-bringing logic, this truth is what makes God eternal.
Numbers 23:19 NKJV

19 "God is not a man, that He should lie, Nor a son of man, that He should repent. Has He said, and will He not do? Or has He spoken, and will He not make it good?

And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind. (be united with His logic and become eternal.)
John 8:32 NKJV

32 "And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."

John 17:21-26 NKJV

21 "that they all may be one, as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You; that they also may be one in Us, that the world may believe that You sent Me. 22 "And the glory which You gave Me I have given them, that they may be one just as We are one: 23 "I in them, and You in Me; that they may be made perfect in one, and that the world may know that You have sent Me, and have loved them as You have loved Me. 24 "Father, I desire that they also whom You gave Me may be with Me where I am, that they may behold My glory which You have given Me; for You loved Me before the foundation of the world. 25 "O righteous Father! The world has not known You, but I have known You; and these have known that You sent Me. 26 "And I have declared to them Your name, and will declare it, that the love with which You loved Me may be in them, and I in them."

Love your neighbor as yourself (treat the body of others as you do your own body.)
Leviticus 19:18 NKJV

18 'You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the children of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.

Ephesians 5:28-30 NKJV

28 So husbands ought to love their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself. 29 For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the Lord does the church. 30 For we are members of His body, of His flesh and of His bones.

Deuteronomy 15:7-11 NKJV

7 "If there is among you a poor man of your brethren, within any of the gates in your land which the LORD your God is giving you, you shall not harden your heart nor shut your hand from your poor brother, 8 "but you shall open your hand wide to him and willingly lend him sufficient for his need, whatever he needs. 9 "Beware lest there be a wicked thought in your heart, saying, 'The seventh year, the year of release, is at hand,' and your eye be evil against your poor brother and you give him nothing, and he cry out to the LORD against you, and it become sin among you. 10 "You shall surely give to him, and your heart should not be grieved when you give to him, because for this thing the LORD your God will bless you in all your works and in all to which you put your hand. 11 "For the poor will never cease from the land; therefore I command you, saying, 'You shall open your hand wide to your brother, to your poor and your needy, in your land.'

Proverbs 19:17 NKJV

17 He who has pity on the poor lends to the LORD, And He will pay back what he has given.

I am 23 y/o F, H: 5' 2", W: 145 lbs, Race: South asian, currently living in US.
cc: experiencing red, circular, raised, itchy rash, warm to touch mainly on my legs. REFERENCE PHOTO
These rashes first appeared when I traveled to South Asia last summer. I woke up with chunky rashes all over my thighs and shins. You could see each individual bumps, they didn't all mesh together into one huge mass. They were circular but not perfectly. About 1inch in diameter. I used a very strong steroid to cope with the itching. As the rashes healed, they became blue bruises and then left small dark scars on my legs. It took about 2 wks for them to clear up.
After coming back to US, I had 1 flare up of these rashes about 4 months ago. Same in appearance and healing time as the initial rashes.
1 month, I started getting these rashes out of nowhere again. Same in appearance and healing time. Unlike the last 2 episodes of these rashes, where I would about 10 bumps all at once and they would go away within 2 wks, this time, I keep getting 2-3 new rashes every other day. Right now, I only have this one big rash at the back of my right knee ( SEE HERE ) and 2 small ones on my ankles that are almost done healing. It's extremely itchy and hot. The one behind my knee is SO RED. I have never seen any of these rashes look THIS red so it's kind of scaring me.
Also, noting that most of my rashes have only been on my legs. Except for the current episode that started 1 month ago, I got some on my lower back-upper buttock area and 1 bump on my arm.
Please help me figure out what might be going on. By the time, I manage to get any derm appt, the rashes go away and I always end up consulting the docs on the scars rather than the active episodes.
I do not drink/smoke/do drugs. Don't have any severe food allergies that I know of. I have gotten allergy tested before for ~30 allergens and nothing causes me hives. I haven't been spending time outdoor where I can attribute these rashes to bug bites. I haven't used any new cosmetics or eaten anything new. Nothing foreign in my environment that I can note.