I’ve been studying Dr. Thomas Walker’s expedition into Appalachia in 1750 and have questions about his writings on dressing an elk skin.
They killed an an elk on a Thursday and his entry for that day says they “dressed an elk skin to make Indian shoes.” They moved camp the next day and stayed at that camp until Monday. His entry for that day says “when our elk’s skin was prepared…we made our shoes.”
What process/materials would they have used to prepare a hide in 4 days?

Hello again! I really appreciate everyone's feedback on version one and hope this is a step in the right direction.
Dear [agent],
THE SOIL IS CALLING is an adult Southern Gothic Horror, complete at 65,000 words. Set in a decaying southern town, it blends the slow burning dread of Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic with the grief-stricken atmosphere of Gus Moreno’s This Thing Between Us.
Five years after her daughter Millie disappeared, Becca is still struggling to find purpose in her life. That changes when she learns her estranged mother was bit by a water moccasin and needs a caregiver. Driven by regret and the promise of making amends, Becca returns to her hometown of Harlsboro, Georgia to care for her mother while she recovers.
But before long, Becca starts to wish she hadn’t come home. Visions of Millie haunt her during the day, and an incessant scratching sound keeps her up at night. Then there’s her mother to contend with. She’d always been emotionally distant, but her newfound paranoia and sudden mood swings leave Becca wondering if their relationship is salvageable. News of a recent string of grisly murders in Harlsboro only further fuels her urge to get out of town.
Then Becca’s mother goes missing. Despite finding evidence of her whereabouts in a nearby swamp, the local sheriff refuses to conduct a search. As hope of finding her mother dwindles, Becca begins to relive the nightmare of five years ago. Determined to not make the same mistake that cost her Millie, she takes matters into her own hands and braves the sweltering Georgia swamp. But hidden in the kudzu and cypress trees lurks an ancient evil that threatens to unravel what’s left of Becca’s family and her sanity.
First 300:
I hadn’t thought of what I would say to Momma until I found myself standing in front of her hospital room door. Of what reason I’d give her for my unannounced visit. It was an absurd question, of course. What reason does a daughter need to visit her ill mother? If only it were that simple.
Staring down the world's most ominous looking wood laminate door, I mentally kicked myself for wasting the thirteen hour drive. Instead of singing along to my favorite emo playlist until my voice was hoarse, I should have come up with something to say. Anything would be better than, “Surprise! It’s me, your estranged daughter!”
I twisted the handle and pushed against the door, but it refused to open. Maybe I hadn’t turned the handle far enough or the latch was caught on something. Whatever held the door shut, it gave me enough pause to let a thought wriggle its way into my brain: maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
I’d never been one to look for signs or omens, but this was coming in loud and clear. I could turn around, walk out of the hospital—which at best would be called a clinic anywhere outside of Nowheresville, Georgia—and drive right back to Pennsylvania. Nobody would know. I hadn’t told Momma I was coming, and she wouldn’t have expected me to come anyway. She hadn’t even told me she was in the hospital. There would be no consequences to my impulsive trip. Life would go on as it had for the last five years.
Thanks again for your help!

Dear [agent],
THE SOIL IS CALLING is an adult Southern Gothic Horror, complete at 65,000 words. Set in a decaying southern town, it blends the slow burning dread of Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic with the grief-stricken atmosphere of Gus Moreno’s This Thing Between Us.
Becca swore she’d never go back to her hometown in rural Georgia. After losing her daughter Millie five years ago and a subsequent falling out with her mother, there’s nothing left for her there. That changes when she gets a call that her mother was bit by a water moccasin and is in the hospital. Driven by regret, Becca makes the trip down south to care for her while she recovers.
Plunged back into a lifetime of bad memories, Becca struggles to hold herself together. Everywhere she turns, she finds ghosts of her past—most of which she’d rather forget. And between crushing poverty and a recent string of murders, the town itself seems to have one foot in the grave. Then there’s her mother to contend with. She’d always been stubborn and emotionally distant, but something’s shifted in her. Her erratic behavior and paranoia, fueled by diabetes-inducing amounts of soda, push their relationship to the edge.
Then Becca’s mother goes missing. Despite finding evidence of her whereabouts in a nearby swamp, the local sheriff refuses to conduct a search. As hope of finding her mother dwindles, Becca begins to relive the nightmare of five years ago when her daughter vanished without a trace. Determined to not make the same mistake that cost her Millie, she takes matters into her own hands and braves the sweltering Georgia swamp. But her excursion thrusts her neck deep into a dark underworld that threatens to unravel what’s left of her family and her sanity.
[bio]
I hadn’t thought of what I would say to Momma until I found myself standing in front of her hospital room door. Of what reason I’d give her for my unannounced visit. It was an absurd question, of course. What reason does a daughter need to visit her ill mother? If only it were that simple.
Staring down the world's most ominous looking wood laminate door, I mentally kicked myself for wasting the thirteen hour drive. Instead of singing along to my favorite emo playlist until my voice was hoarse, I should have come up with something to say. Anything would be better than, “Surprise! It’s me, your estranged daughter!”
I twisted the handle and pushed against the door, but it refused to open. Maybe I hadn’t turned the handle far enough or the latch was caught on something. Whatever held the door shut, it gave me enough pause to let a thought wriggle its way into my brain: maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
I’d never been one to look for signs or omens, but this was coming in loud and clear. I could turn around, walk out of the hospital—which at best would be called a clinic anywhere outside of Nowheresville, Georgia—and drive right back to Pennsylvania. Nobody would know. I hadn’t told Momma I was coming, and she wouldn’t have expected me to come anyway. She hadn’t even told me she was in the hospital. There would be no consequences to my impulsive trip. Life would go on as it had for the last five years.
Thank you for taking the time to read and critique my query/300 words!

"You go first down the slide," he said holding his hand like a polite gentleman at the shiny metal surface.
I waited at the top of my slide for him to get on his so we could shove off together.
"Ready, go" he screamed and we sailed down the metal slides together, hitting little bumps that made us bop in the air at times and giggle.
And then next thing I knew I went through the chute and landed with a thud on silk pillows.
"Did you like it," my Beloved asked smiling at me, atop his own set of pillows. He was awaiting my synopsis of his system he built.
"Maybe a ball pit at the bottom?" I shrugged. He didn't like that answer.
I looked out the window at the whole city block he owned. Our Cult couldn't exist without this genius. My adorable, handsome, sweet, funny beloved that innovated all of us to our wealth. I ran over to swoon at his face, having all the lines of tender beauty. His skin supple with health and intelligence. Even his face had artistic allure, I felt so deeply smitten with him.
But why had he built that big top tent on top of our building across the street? I sighed and I turned to look at the tent blowing in the breeze and felt i could almost smell the caramel corn wafting. It sat empty waiting for our lanterns to flicker on party nights. My Beloved knew what he was doing, we'd have the finest parties around! We'd wine them on my handmaiden mead and feast them on our ostriches cooked with rosemary! I pictured all of our guest enjoying the two metal slides as their titties happily bounce down them, racing from the tent to our Compound's art warehouse. They'd descended steeply down and land with a thunk. We'd pluck a bud from our weed botanica and light up. Cheers!
I stared at the whole complex in awe of what a brilliant mind my Beloved has....but only a matter of time before the knock of the city code rapped on our Compound entrance. Even in these apocalyptic times, they still seemed to keep their grasp on building codes, specially our cult Compound.
There were questions of how we came into our money.
Our whole cult was hiding assets, people said.
Hiding from the government and producing wares in our own trading system outside their system.
Our enemies growing exponentially as the rumors spread like fire.
Suddenly the two metal slides he built to connect our two buildings, it seemed a portal for thieves to come sliding in and I blurted my concerns. "How will you close these slides from intruders?"
But he didn't answer. He was busy talking with his hands, "you realize this is art? People will come to see this from miles. It's a statement on Possibility and Hope."
I loved his lofty side that inspired others to reach their own goals. I swirled around and spun on my moccasins tips and kissed him. He was hope and I grabbed his peachy ass to show him.
Why he was beauty itself! I kissed him extra as his lovely wrist outstretched to me and Beloved's hand unfurled to offer me special gifts. I thropped my shoulder up and down to thank him for the canned opossum and the jar of caviar. He was beaming like warm sunlight.
I sat down at the kitchen counter to enjoy my bowl of canned good luxury. "What about mosquitos," I questioned between spoonfuls of dank meat that I savored in my mouth.
He looked up. His perfectly worn, canvas coat made him look as clever and handsome as a professor explaining very regally the netting system he engineered. He seemed very sure of it so I dropped it.
He grabbed the bucket of pistachio ice cream from the fridge and tapped himself a big bowl full. We headed off to watch the tv theatre he set up. I checked to make sure I was wearing my cutest panties for him and rubbed my rump on him in wiggles.
I spun around. One more way to entice thieves, I thought ... as i surveyed the giant tv at the bottom of his stupid slides. "Here thieves, here thieves" I laughed merrily as i plopped up onto the red couch mocking him.
He pulled his red shoes off and came in close to me, us both in our sock feet. Our couch built extra high off the ground so it felt like we were little kids with our feet dangling off the edge. I cozied up to him, snuggly.
The TV theatre filled the wall with an all encompassing curve. I could still smell the scent of new electronics. I considered myself lucky I had such a successful partner to help care for me during such trying times, such a master my Beloved was. I slid my hand down the edge of his pants to show my appreciation. Squeezing and copping for a feel of the warm bulge. I twirled his warmth around in my hand. My mouth getting wet for the bulge, as he focused on the remote ignoring me.
TV flipped on, my beloved husband tossed the remote beside me. Outfitted trucks flashed on the screen in a convey. I listened as his ice cream spoon clanked the ceramic bowl between bites. Without warning the screen flashed,
No Rest for the Wicked
No Rest for the Wicked
Rising over a fallow field that was once the highway, a rag tag team of bandit pirates looking haggard in the back of their ragged truck seemed to be moving towards us. We watched as they hedged closer and closer.
"Are they really climbing the fire escape next door," my beloved husband asked me nervously. I jumped up, always the squirrel wanting to scamper.
"No, they're not really out there," I assured him as I turned back around to double-check.
"Nothing out there but big top tents," I smacked my belly in happy fits and pivoted back around, but my face went aghast.
I was ON TV, I watched me watching the thieves come down the slide. I was on my knees over Beloved with my face dripping drool down his innards. I mean outards.
I moved closer to the tv to watch the thieves barreling down the chute. I struggled to keep from vomiting. "Do you see this!!" I screamed pointing at the TV with tears, "do you f'ing see this, Jospeph?" I was ranting now.
I forgot to call him Beloved. He hadn't noticed. He was too busy twisting pale on the floor, like a worm cracking like freeze dried cake on hot pavement as he watched the thieves on TV come charging at him with long swords and pick axes.
But suddenly I was on tv too, sneaking up behind the thieves like Ali Baba's darling. I pulled the ax from one then swung it around, aimlessly beheading like a helicopter blade spinning freely. Whirling around giggling in fits, like a child playing pinata. Whacking heads across the room, dying in laughter that heads were rolling around the screen like bowling pins struck at the sweet spot. I lifted my skirt over my head saying, "oh whoospie, sir, oh whoopsie tootsie, sire,"
I was dying laughing at my self.
"Why are you laughing, you, rude ugly wench...," Joseph sour complained.
But I charged across the room with obscene force and pummeled him to the ground. Without thought. we were wrestling on the carpet, tearing each others hair, rubbing our faces into carpet burns.
I sat my face on him for daring to ask me what I was doing. I thudded his head down, screaming. "I was defending you, you, you ungrateful devil," I hissed with spittle dripping, my hands full of his ears that i used to pin him harder to the ground. I felt his tongue try to push into me. Trying to push me off of him.
In a flash, I saw the vision.
The thieves at the top of the slide, smoking cigarettes as they mocked our slide of hope. Their dirty pants suddenly flung in the air as they jumped soaring down our the slide, laughing hysterical as they charged towards us.
It was then, I cried. I wailed in rage. I grabbed all three of our butcher knives. I flung the first one, knocking what's his name Beloved in the gut. Not satisfied, I flung another at him and watched as his innards sprung out like spring tendrils unfurling into the grace of the soft sun.
Moving in with the third knife, I leaned over close to my husbands soft cheeks. I twisted the knife in, "I loved you so much. It's a good thing I saved you from the Reckoning. You are my prince, my," and I paused forgetting his name a moment. My mouth drooled seeing the tender tendrils sprung outwards like blue noodles and I hadn't hadnt noodles in 5 years. I wiped the spittle from my lips. Drool dripping down his outards, I mean innards. I looked up.
"No Rest for the Wicked," said one of the pirates to me victoriously. He motioned a wine glass to me.
"No Rest for the Wicked," I said back to him as my head bobbled in excitement. "Cheers!" I gleefully clanked my imaginary wine glass against new guy's. And danced a polka gig.
"We did well, didn't we," I winked at him, tucking my hand under the curves of his hindend enjoying the texture of his dirty denim against his muscular ass. I craned my neck about admiring my pirate's warm sunkissed skin and smiling like the cheshire cat. I grasp his hand and we walked off into the setting sun.
originally submitted by Yeet Poppins on yeetpoppins

Hey everyone! I’m looking for some feedback on my newly finished horror novel. It’s set in the present day in a small Georgia town. I drew inspiration from novels like Sharp Objects, A House With Good Bones and The Boatman’s Daughter.
Content Warning: Some violence and gore, lots of f bombs
Feedback: Plot holes, pacing, character inconsistency, and over all engagement level. If there are boring parts I want to know so I can address them. Also I’m curious how intense or not intense the story is overall. It’s hard for me to tell if it’s scary or more on the cozy side. IMO it’s not that scary but I’m probably biased. This is mostly for me to gauge how to market it in the future.
Swap: I’d be open to do a critique swap for works of similar length and genre (mostly horror and thriller but I’m open to grounded sci fi as well)
Timeline: About 4 weeks
Blurb:
Becca swore she’d never go back to her hometown in rural Georgia. After losing her daughter five years ago and a subsequent falling out with her mother, there’s nothing left for her there. That changes when she gets a call that her mother was bit by a water moccasin and is in the hospital. Driven by guilt, Becca makes the trip back down south to care for her mother while she recovers.
But home ain’t what it used to be. Plagued by the opioid epidemic, economic decline, and a string of grisly murders, it feels like the town has one foot in the grave. Then there’s her mother to contend with. She’d always been stubborn and emotionally distant, but something’s shifted in her. Late night rummaging and paranoia fueled by diabetes-inducing amounts of soda put their relationship on the fritz.
Then Becca’s mother goes missing. Despite finding evidence of her whereabouts in a neighboring swamp, the local sheriff refuses to conduct a search. Her hope dwindling, Becca begins to relive the nightmare of five years ago when her daughter vanished without a trace. Determined to not make the same mistake twice, she takes matters into her own hands and braves the sweltering Georgia swamp. But her excursion pulls her neck deep into a dark underworld that threatens to drag her and her hometown under with it.
Opening Sample:
I hadn’t taken any thought of what to say to Momma until I found myself standing in front of her hospital room door. Of what reason I’d give her for my unannounced visit. It was an absurd question, of course. What reason does a daughter need to visit her ill mother? If only it were that simple.
Staring down the world's most ominous looking wood laminate door, I mentally kicked myself for wasting the thirteen hour drive. Instead of singing along to my favorite emo playlist until my voice was hoarse, I should have come up with something to say. Anything would be better than, “Surprise! It’s me, your estranged daughter!”
I twisted the handle and pushed against the door, but it refused to open. Maybe I hadn’t turned the handle far enough or the latch was caught on something. Whatever held the door shut, it gave me enough pause to let a thought wriggle its way into my brain that hadn’t yet occurred to me: maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
I’d never been one to look for signs or omens, but this was coming in loud and clear. I could turn around, walk out of the hospital—which at best would be called a clinic anywhere outside of Nowheresville, Georgia—and drive right back to Pennsylvania. Nobody would know. I hadn’t told Momma I was coming, and she wouldn’t have expected me to come anyway. She hadn’t even told me she was in the hospital. There would be no consequences to my impulsive trip. Life would go on as it had for the last five years.
Half a second later the phantom lock let the door go, and it swung open with the kind of shrill creak you’d expect from a building that was built when the Soviet Union was still a thing. I stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind me. The room was small and stuffy, the walls the same puke-green color as in the hallway.
Momma was asleep, and, in a way, I was relieved. Reconnecting after years of no contact is enough to make even an emotionally stable person’s nerves go haywire. I dreaded the initiatory conversations we’d have to wade through to get back on good terms. The prying questions about how I was doing, if I was dating, was I talking to Zach. Comments about my weight, my choice to move out of the swamp and into civilization, the fact that I worked for a Democrat.
I shuddered and turned away from her. Even in her unconscious state she exuded a power that made me physically weak. Made me feel unlike myself. As if in her presence I was still a child.
If you’re interested, leave a comment or feel free to DM me. Thanks!

Yessir, I dun met that cocksucker, Vladimir Putin, I did. It were, ohhhh, back in 2002 I reckon. See, I wuz on vacation down thar in Florryda during sprang break. I know, I is too old fer that shit and I ain’t never been to no high filutin college. I ain’t no student. I is The Professor…. The Professor of fucking sweet, young college pussy! And thar is plenty of teaching to be dun during spring break.
So come April one of 2002 I hitched my old wooden wagon up to my old mule, Hillary, and took off to Florida fer the Super Bowl of fuck. Unfortunately, I had been trippin on sum pineal glands whilst I were calculating my journey. As a result, I did not arrive in Florida fer 4 weeks later. It didn’t help that when I started my sojourn I were a’holdin my old compass upside down. I didn’t even realize it until I seen a sign saying “Welcome to Ohio” a week later.
But eventually I dun did arrive in the sunshine state. My first thought was “whar’s the fucking beach?!?” There weren’t no goddamn water anywhere except fer sum skanky looking swamps. I thought this may be a good place to go after that thar Skunk Ape. That’s what they call them Sasquatch down here in these parts. But it tweren’t no Sasquatch I were after right now. I were after sum “Ass-Crotch”.
Well sir, I sat thar fer a moment, pulled over on the side of I-95. I cyphered on my situation fer a spell. Then I remembered seeing a picture of the geographical layout of Florida. I seen it that time I stole cable TV from a local hotel back home called the “Bigfoot Inn”. It wuz time fer the Georgia-Florida game and I did not feel like driving down into town and watching it at sum dive bar with all them assholes. See, I tapped into the coax cable then run me a line bout 37 miles up and down the mountains until I got it to my cabin in Sasquatch Hollow. As it turned out, I was 11 feet short! I had to set up my old picture tube in my front yard.
So during the game I seen a picture of the state. I thunk to myself that it looked like a big, thick flaccid dong. “SHIT FIRE!”, I thought to myself. Florida must be full of black dudes cuz this here is the big dick state! I figured that I would fit in fine down there.
Then I had me one of them thar epiphanies. The revelation hit he so hard it damn near knocked me over. THIS is why all them horny little pussies high tail it to Florida ever spring: cuz Florida looks like a big old sloppy tallywacker!! I felt like I had jest been touched by the hand of God hisself. BIG DICK ATTRACTS HOT PUSSY! It’s a natural law. It were one of them thar special moments ya might have once or twice during yer life.
So I remembered that Florida was a long flaccid fuck stick. This means all I have to do is head either east or west and I HAD to hit water! Then I remembered that I-95 hugged the east coast. Or was it the west coast? Hmmmmm… Those damned old glands had gotten all over me that I had a hard time thinking straight. “Oh well, fuck it! I’m going to hit water either way I go.”
I turned and went west. On the third day old Hillary got bit by a water moccasin crossing the road. I figured I may as well put the bitch out of her misery cuz she weren’t gonna be any good to me now. “BANG!” I put a .44 mag bullet right through Hillary’s head. She fell like a stone.
The next thing I knowd was thar were giant lizards coming out of the swamps around me! They took to old Hillary’s corpse and started ripping it apart, then EATING her! “WHAT IN TARNATION IS THESE CRITTERS?!?!”, I thought to myself. Hell, we got lizards back home, but they only git bout 6 inches long at most. But these motherfuckers here in Floriddy are 12 FEET long!!! And they got TEETH! HOLY SHEEYIT!!!
Well sir, I wuz tickled pink cuz I had worked up a powerful hunger and I ran out of the vittles I packed. I also weren’t looking forward to cooking up Hillary cuz ya’ll gotta slow roast a mule to make it edible, and I ain’t got time fer that shit. I wanted to git my fuck on.
I got ahold of one of them thar giant lizards by the tail. I pulled that sumbitch away from the carnage of Hillary’s corpse, then jumped on top of it. It thrashed and rolled sumthang fierce! But I got the better of it. I grabbed both sides of its head and twisted it sharply and violently to the left. “CRACK!!” I broke the motherfuckers neck!
I skint that sumbitch up. Then I deicided to eat it raw…sushi style. I gotta tell you fellers sumthang: this lizard meet is DEE-LISCIOUS!! I made a mental note to wrangle up a few of these here lizards to take back home with me fer vittles. These fuckers make fer some damn fine eatin!
Then another thought hit me like a ton of bricks. We’re it another epiphany? Well, not quite. But it were damn close! I needed me sum transport and old Hillary was dead and eaten by giant lizards. Maybe I ought to use the lizards to power my old wagon!
Well sir, I got down into that old swamp and wrangled me up 5 or 6 of them damned reptiles, then I hitched them to my wagon. I climbed up on my wagon, took the reins, and hit em. “YOW YOW!!!! HEY NOW!! GIT!!! LET’S GO NOW!!! GIT!! GIT!!!” It did not work worth a shit. Dumbass lizards. I would have had better luck trying to put my jizz ropes back into my dick. Oh well, not every idea can be a winner.
Then I heard a familiar sound approaching from the East. It were a car! I knew my problem was solved. As the auto approached I stood in the middle of the road waving my arms to git it to stop. It did. Then this old fucker got out and asked if there had been an accident. He had a real concern on his face as he stared at the road behind me: a broken down wagon, a mutilated and bloody mule corpse, and gigantic lizards lurking around everwhere.
I sed “Howdy fella! I am Roy. What’s yer name?” He sed “I’m …”, then “BLAMMM!!!!” The report from my .44 mag was deafening. I grabbed my shit and threw it into the back of his car: a Toyota Prius. I thought to myself “Goddamn. A commie car. Fuck this here shit!” But I remembered that I wuz stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, and that thar be sum of that thar good old warm and wet, young and tender cooter jest up ahead. I sighed and thought, “whatever.”
As I pulled away in the commie car I looked in the rear view mirror. I seen one of them thar giant lizards dragging the commie sumbitch’s body off into the swamp. “Serves him right!”, I sed out loud.
I headed west fer an hour. I deduced that I wuz on Highway 10. After a bit I seen me a sigh fer Panama City Beach. I thought “HELL YEAH!” I knowd that PCB is sacred pussy hunting ground in the hallowed annals of fucking. I could already feel my cock getting hard. I stomped on the gas pedal on the Prius, but of course nothing happened. “What a fucking piece of shit!”, I said.
Now, to speed things up and not get bogged down in all the sex shit, let me jest say that I spent a few days at PCB. Unfortunately, spring break wuz over and all that fresh young pussy wuz gone. So I settled fer a bunch of fat moms taking “girls vacations” away from thar families. It were amazing how many of these bitches there were thar. All it took was meeting their drunk asses out at night, flashing them a look at my old Hawg Leg, then it was hard core sloppy fucking until morning. Those bitches were gross. But at least I got my ball sacks drained. At this point it were medicinal.
Now you may be wondering where Putin fits into all this here. Well sir, I am a’gonna tell ya. During all that fucking, humping, sloshing around, and wallowing in big girl flesh fer a week, I came across Putin, both figuratively and literally. See, old Putin has got him a thing fer fat, sub-milf bitches. It is a fetish with him.
So during one schloggjng session with multiple bitches, one of them thar whoowahs let out a great big old wet fart. I never stopped pumping whatever hole I was into at the moment. But I did raise up my head and look around because it was a gnarly trouser sneeze. I grimaced at the thought of what the smell was going to be like when it hit.
Then I saw him: Putin. See, in this here moment thar were fat bitch flesh from here to over yonder. We filled up a big old hotel suite. It were an orgy, really. Fat bitches everywhere. It started out with me flashing my pecker at a bar. Then me and 3 of them bitches headed back to the hotel. We started fucking right away. After a bit, I noticed that there wuz bout 10 bitches in the room. Pretty soon a couple other dudes were thar. Next thang ya know this place was literally wall-to-wall flesh. I don’t rightly knowd how the scene evolved except to say thar were a lot of fruity alcoholic drinks and a lot of X being passed around.
But thar he was. That rat-bastard commie, Vladimir Putin, was a couple of fat whoowahs over, pumping the rump of one of the bitches. I immediately made a mental note that I would waste that commie prick after I had my fill of pussy.
Hours later I passed out from exhaustion. I was drained. Ever time I orgasmed the only thing that would come out of my dick was air. Eventually I came to. I got up and made my way toward the kitchenette to try to find me something to drink. I was parched like a pecker in the desert.
I had to wade through a sea of naked fat bitches. They were everywhere, passed out on the beds, chairs, and all over the floor. I noticed some dude lying thar dead in a corner with obvious blunt trauma to his head. I figured one of them big old gals rolled over on top of him and squashed his skull.
Finally in the kitchen, all I could find to drink was Bacardi and Diet Coke. “Jesus Christ”, I thought. Then I heard his voice as he walked into the kitchenette, “Here, Comrade! Try some of this juice of orange!” It was Putin, and he was handing me a glass of cold orange juice. “Thanks”, I sed. Then I drank the juice. Jesus Christ, I got to tell you that it was delicious and much needed!
As I drank Putin leaned up against the kitchen counter and spoke to me. He said “You and I, comrade, we are the same, no? We both like to take the large ones! The thicker the cushion, you know? Ha ha!!” I just studied his face as I drank the juice. The communist pecker.
Then things took a dark turn. See, old Putin sed “Look, friend, the bitches are out of the game for a few hours, you know? Even when they come to they have to re-fuel on daiquiris and chocolate brownies, you know? Let’s do each other a favor and do mouth stuff on each other until then. What do you say, buddy?”
Putin then dropped the towel around his waist and it fell to the floor. There stood Putin’s commie dick at full salute. It was not small, but it was not big either. It was clearly uncircumcised and for some reason it was a darker color than the rest of his skin on his body. What a fucking weirdo.
So there was old Vlad, a chubby chaser who just proposed gay sex to me. Without needing to consider anything, I grabbed a large kitchen knife that was sticking out of the remains of a chocolate cake one of the bitches had brought and in one motion brought it down on the commie prick, slicing off his member in one strike. His commie dick hit the floor with a “WHUP!”.
Old Pooty’s eyes grew wide and he reached for his crotch. Blood was pouring out around his fingers. Knowing that I had best get my ass out of there before Vlad’s security force busts in, I violently punched the dick-tater in his throat then high tailed it out of thar. He hit the floor as I hit the door.
Once outside I spotted Putin’s security detail. They were on the other side of the hotel parking lot. I yelled in their direction, “Hey! You cocksucking commies!” I then dropped trou and mooned the bastards. I chuckled as they rushed over to me. Then I pulled out my .44 magnum.
Well sir, I got home a few days later. I could not help but to think how fucked we is as a world when the leader of Russia is sum degenerate chubby-chasing cock whore. “What the fuck is the world coming to?”, I asked to nobody as I sat on my front porch in Sasquatch Hollow, sipping sum of my good old homemade korn licker and fingering the trigger of my rifle as I wait on a Sasquatch to saunter up out of the woods. Fucking commies.

These colors can be used by either by adding one or more definitions to your
program's header or making your own RColor.h file. These names do not conflict
with the RayLib defined names. Listed below is a copy of my RColor.h file
included with my install /usinclude/RColor.h
I suggest the RayLib maintainer(s) consider adding these to the next RayLib version.

 // --------------------------------------------------- // Red Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------------- #define IndianRed CLITERAL ( Color ) {205, 92, 92} #define LightCoral CLITERAL ( Color ) {240, 128, 128} #define Salmon CLITERAL ( Color ) {250, 128, 114} #define DarkSalmon CLITERAL ( Color ) {233, 150, 122} #define LightSalmon CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 160, 122} #define Crimson CLITERAL ( Color ) {220, 20, 60} #define Red CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 0, 0} #define FireBrick CLITERAL ( Color ) {178, 34, 34} #define DarkRed CLITERAL ( Color ) {139, 0, 0} // --------------------------------------------- // Pink Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define Pink CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 192, 203} #define LightPink CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 182, 193} #define HotPink CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 105, 180} #define DeepPink CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 20, 147} #define MediumVioletRed CLITERAL ( Color ) {199, 21, 133} #define PaleVioletRed CLITERAL ( Color ) {219, 112, 147} // --------------------------------------------- // Orange Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define LightSalmon CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 160, 122} #define Coral CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 127, 80} #define Tomato CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 99, 71} #define OrangeRed CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 69, 0} #define DarkOrange CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 140, 0} #define Orange CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 165, 0} // --------------------------------------------- // Yellow Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define Gold CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 215, 0} #define Yellow CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 255, 0} #define LightYellow CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 255, 224} #define LemonChiffon CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 250, 205} #define LightGoldenrodYellow CLITERAL ( Color ) {250, 250, 210} #define PapayaWhip CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 239, 213} #define Moccasin CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 228, 181} #define PeachPuff CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 218, 185} #define PaleGoldenrod CLITERAL ( Color ) {238, 232, 170} #define Khaki CLITERAL ( Color ) {240, 230, 140} #define DarkKhaki CLITERAL ( Color ) {189, 183, 107} // --------------------------------------------- // Purple Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define Lavender CLITERAL ( Color ) {230, 230, 250} #define Thistle CLITERAL ( Color ) {216, 191, 216} #define Plum CLITERAL ( Color ) {221, 160, 221} #define Violet CLITERAL ( Color ) {238, 130, 238} #define Orchid CLITERAL ( Color ) {218, 112, 214} #define Fuchsia CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 0, 255} #define Magenta CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 0, 255} #define MediumOrchid CLITERAL ( Color ) {186, 85, 211} #define MediumPurple CLITERAL ( Color ) {147, 112, 219} #define RebeccaPurple CLITERAL ( Color ) {102, 51, 153} #define BlueViolet CLITERAL ( Color ) {138, 43, 226} #define DarkViolet CLITERAL ( Color ) {148, 0, 211} #define DarkOrchid CLITERAL ( Color ) {153, 50, 204} #define DarkMagenta CLITERAL ( Color ) {139, 0, 139} #define Purple CLITERAL ( Color ) {128, 0, 128} #define Indigo CLITERAL ( Color ) {75, 0, 130} #define SlateBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {106, 90, 205} #define DarkSlateBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {72, 61, 139} #define MediumSlateBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {123, 104, 238} // --------------------------------------------- // Green Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define GreenYellow CLITERAL ( Color ) {173, 255, 47} #define Chartreuse CLITERAL ( Color ) {127, 255, 0} #define LawnGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {124, 252, 0} #define Lime CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 255, 0} #define LimeGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {50, 205, 50} #define PaleGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {152, 251, 152} #define LightGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {144, 238, 144} #define MediumSpringGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 250, 154} #define SpringGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 255, 127} #define MediumSeaGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {60, 179, 113} #define SeaGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {46, 139, 87} #define ForestGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {34, 139, 34} #define Green CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 128, 0} #define DarkGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 100, 0} #define YellowGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {154, 205, 50} #define OliveDrab CLITERAL ( Color ) {107, 142, 35} #define Olive CLITERAL ( Color ) {128, 128, 0} #define DarkOliveGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {85, 107, 47} #define MediumAquamarine CLITERAL ( Color ) {102, 205, 170} #define DarkSeaGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {143, 188, 139} #define LightSeaGreen CLITERAL ( Color ) {32, 178, 170} #define DarkCyan CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 139, 139} #define Teal CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 128, 128} // --------------------------------------------- // Blue Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define Aqua CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 255, 255} #define Cyan CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 255, 255} #define LightCyan CLITERAL ( Color ) {224, 255, 255} #define PaleTurquoise CLITERAL ( Color ) {175, 238, 238} #define Aquamarine CLITERAL ( Color ) {127, 255, 212} #define Turquoise CLITERAL ( Color ) {64, 224, 208} #define MediumTurquoise CLITERAL ( Color ) {72, 209, 204} #define DarkTurquoise CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 206, 209} #define CadetBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {95, 158, 160} #define SteelBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {70, 130, 180} #define LightSteelBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {176, 196, 222} #define PowderBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {176, 224, 230} #define LightBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {173, 216, 230} #define SkyBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {135, 206, 235} #define LightSkyBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {135, 206, 250} #define DeepSkyBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 191, 255} #define DodgerBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {30, 144, 255} #define CornflowerBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {100, 149, 237} #define MediumSlateBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {123, 104, 238} #define RoyalBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {65, 105, 225} #define Blue CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 0, 255} #define MediumBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 0, 205} #define DarkBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 0, 139} #define Navy CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 0, 128} #define MidnightBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {25, 25, 112} // --------------------------------------------- // Brown Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define Cornsilk CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 248, 220} #define BlanchedAlmond CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 235, 205} #define Bisque CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 228, 196} #define NavajoWhite CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 222, 173} #define Wheat CLITERAL ( Color ) {245, 222, 179} #define BurlyWood CLITERAL ( Color ) {222, 184, 135} #define Tan CLITERAL ( Color ) {210, 180, 140} #define RosyBrown CLITERAL ( Color ) {188, 143, 143} #define SandyBrown CLITERAL ( Color ) {244, 164, 96} #define Goldenrod CLITERAL ( Color ) {218, 165, 32} #define DarkGoldenrod CLITERAL ( Color ) {184, 134, 11} #define Peru CLITERAL ( Color ) {205, 133, 63} #define Chocolate CLITERAL ( Color ) {210, 105, 30} #define SaddleBrown CLITERAL ( Color ) {139, 69, 19} #define Sienna CLITERAL ( Color ) {160, 82, 45} #define Brown CLITERAL ( Color ) {165, 42, 42} #define Maroon CLITERAL ( Color ) {128, 0, 0} // --------------------------------------------- // White Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define White CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 255, 255} #define Snow CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 250, 250} #define HoneyDew CLITERAL ( Color ) {240, 255, 240} #define MintCream CLITERAL ( Color ) {245, 255, 250} #define Azure CLITERAL ( Color ) {240, 255, 255} #define AliceBlue CLITERAL ( Color ) {240, 248, 255} #define GhostWhite CLITERAL ( Color ) {248, 248, 255} #define WhiteSmoke CLITERAL ( Color ) {245, 245, 245} #define SeaShell CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 245, 238} #define Beige CLITERAL ( Color ) {245, 245, 220} #define OldLace CLITERAL ( Color ) {253, 245, 230} #define FloralWhite CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 250, 240} #define Ivory CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 255, 240} #define AntiqueWhite CLITERAL ( Color ) {250, 235, 215} #define Linen CLITERAL ( Color ) {250, 240, 230} #define LavenderBlush CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 240, 245} #define MistyRose CLITERAL ( Color ) {255, 228, 225} // --------------------------------------------- // Gray Name RGB Code // --------------------------------------------- #define Gainsboro CLITERAL ( Color ) {220, 220, 220} #define LightGray CLITERAL ( Color ) {211, 211, 211} #define Silver CLITERAL ( Color ) {192, 192, 192} #define DarkGray CLITERAL ( Color ) {169, 169, 169} #define Gray CLITERAL ( Color ) {128, 128, 128} #define DimGray CLITERAL ( Color ) {105, 105, 105} #define LightSlateGray CLITERAL ( Color ) {119, 136, 153} #define SlateGray CLITERAL ( Color ) {112, 128, 144} #define DarkSlateGray CLITERAL ( Color ) {47, 79, 79} #define Black CLITERAL ( Color ) {0, 0, 0} 

Something to chew on today, if you wish. Or perhaps make better use of what appears to be another lovely day, picking up litter (yep, it's the annual community clean up day, folks!) and then soak up by Vitamin D.
In any case, this has been bugging me and I felt I had to post before I go outside.
I was at a local cafe a few days ago and noticed a poster for the "Mayor's Prayer Breakfast" with Mayor Simon Yu. Guest speaker is a pastor out of Mexico named Poncho Murguria. I was taken aback in part because of my atheist tendencies and more so, that it is 2024 and Prince George and "prayer breakfast" led by an elected official.
I did a bit of digging and discovered that the Mayor's Prayer Breakfast has been a thing since around the mid-1990s in PG, from searching the Google and the PG Citizen digital files. Typically there is a speaker like the CEO of the Port of Prince Rupert or a middling evangelical-ish pastor or MLA Shirley Bond. I can't find evidence that it has been held every year but it has been around for at least 30 years in some interval. It seems that it is generally run by the local PG ministerial association in the past, or a Christian business association. The PG Peacemakers are hosting it this year, as they did last year, and yes, they are a Christian business group, as in business people who are Christians. Councillor Trudy Klassen is also part of their FB group, and Cameron Stolz popped up at one point.
This year's prayer breakfast (for $30 a ticket, up from $25 from last year. Dang inflation) and its guest speaker has done a fair amount of work as a person in Mexico City for the poor, although there are claims that only he (through god speaking too him, prophecy, etc) is responsible for fixing the crime that has plagued the city for decades. So I guess he is going to speak at this year's breakfast and inspire intervention in PG's social and economic issues? Hm.
Anyway, what makes me uncomfortable about the Mayor's Prayer Breakfast, as per my searches for information:

1. The Peacemakers include Christian business people who built the tiny homes for Moccasin Flats. While I think the tiny homes are fantastic and a f*ck you to the city, discovering that there is a connection between the group sponsoring the Mayor's prayer breakfast and the homes, AND the fact the city issuing "stop work orders" for those homes (while deciding not to enforce them).... seems like a hot mess of potential or perceived. conflict of interest. **edit, also some wild hypocrisy.
2. The Peacemakers seem connected to evangelical, trad Christianity. Posts for livestreams about "gender controversy" via the (Christian) Association for Reformed Political Action (who are, you guessed it, pro-life/anti-choice including some contraception methods; "complementarian" which means LGBTQ2S+ need not apply, because gender is binary; anti-MAID; school educational materials promoting "Canada's Christian history" and how Christianity should be the foundation for Canada and its governments... so Christian Nationalism?) and there is a a lot of marketing by the Peacemakers for "Marketplace Christianity" educational videos and zoom meetings. Because, you know, Jesus was all about making bank. /s
3. It's 2024. Is this representative of PG and its citizenry? The event is on the PG City events page and here is the description: "The Prince George Civic Prayer Breakfast is an annual gathering for our Mayor and other city leaders, believers, and members of our community to come together in the Spirit of Jesus Christ in order to foster greater unity and provide space to encourage and pray for those who lead our city."

What Yu does in his off time and his personal beliefs are his right. It's the crossover and connections between his political position and city challenges *and* right wing, trad Christianity that are making me feel icky. Even my church-going partner exclaimed, "30 bucks?!?! Plus the perceived connection, and conflict, between Yu, the prayer breakfast to "help PG thrive" and righty evangelicalism is out of touch for 2024."
Thoughts? Also, sorry about the essay. I understand if TL;DR.
Here is Simon Yu's promotion of the breakfast in case you're interested to here how he sells it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akbp75-_Xqg

Thunderclouds passed by overhead, as dark and swollen as ticks after feeding. Rain fell so heavily that it seemed to blow sideways. Gusts of wind pushed my car to the left and right as I flew down the highway.
“This is going to be so cool,” my friend Chuckles said in his reedy voice, leaning forward in the backseat. Freckles covered his extremely pale face. Reddish-brown hair stuck up all over his head, as if he had shoved a fork into an electrical outlet. Skinny and short, Chuckles was always a pleasure to be around. He never got mad or frustrated, at least as far as I knew. He was always in a good mood and joking around, even when everyone else around him was not.
“I didn’t even know they had caves out here,” I responded. My friend Zach sat in the passenger seat. He had just lit a cigarette, rolling down the window a crack before trying to flick the ashes outside. The wind grabbed the cigarette like a child snatching away a piece of candy. He swore as it flew behind us into the soggy, flooded streets.
“Shit! This has to be the worst damned time to go spelunking,” Zach said, his pale cheeks flaring with patches of ruddy color. His straight, black hair extended beyond his shoulders, and, as usual, he had on a black metal T-shirt. This time it was some band called Burzum. A woman on the front wearing traditional peasant garb held a long Viking horn to her mouth, eternally blowing into it as the dark Scandinavian mountains loomed behind her. Zach’s inky eyes flared as he stared moodily out the window. “We are going to get soaked, even with the raincoats.”
“It’s not a very far walk to the cave,” Chuckles said defensively, leaning back in his seat. “The map says it’s only a mile.”
“That map’s so old that it probably doesn’t know a mite from a mile,” Zach responded haughtily.
We drove on in silence for a few minutes. I kept a look-out for the exit, squinting through the thick curtains of rain as lightning boomed above us like the flashes of nuclear missiles.
“Finally,” I sighed as the exit for Union loomed up through the mist. I flicked on the turn signal, even though the highway was totally dead and empty. I hadn’t seen another car the entire ride. I hadn’t even seen any people. It had all been woods and lakes.
According to the map, Union was a tiny town by population with only four or five hundred people living in it. Yet, by land, it was huge. State parks and forests stretched across its rolling hills and clear, babbling streams. Massive lakes dotted the surface like the craters of a nuclear war.
“So how deep is this cave?” I asked Chuckles, glancing back at him. “What if it floods during the rain?” He rolled his eyes.
“This isn’t like a cave from a Hollywood movie. It might get slick, but it isn’t going to fill up like…”
“Hey, watch out!” Zach cried as a small figure in a yellow raincoat zoomed across the road. I slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, missing the child by mere inches. The tires locked up and I began to fishtail. I heard Chuckles scream in the back, but my own heartbeat in my ears seemed far louder.
The world spun around me. Sheets of rain seemed to hang suspended in the air as everything slowed down. Trees flew up in front of the window. I felt my hands on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as I clenched it in my frozen fingers. A crunching, rending explosion rang out, like the sound of shattering bones. I felt myself thrown forward, the seatbelt pulling me back with its iron grip. And then we were stopped. Everything went deathly silent for a moment. All I could hear in the car was our breathing, fast and panicked.
“Jesus Christ!” Chuckles yelled. He threw on his raincoat before opening the door and jumping out. Zach sat in his seat, his face pale, his whole body trembling. I still had my fingers wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip. Clouds of smoke rose up from the front of the car as the engine hissed like a snake.
I felt dissociated, like a man in a fugue state. I turned off the car and opened the door, slowly getting out after putting on a raincoat. Zach did the same, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head as if trying to clear it.
“Well, that sucks,” Chuckles said, looking down at the passenger’s side wheel. I walked around the hood, seeing that a stone the size of a basketball had pushed the tire and rotor straight up into the frame of the car. The metal looked like a broken accordion, twisted and slanted. Liquid streamed out from under the hood, draining into the black dirt and weeds below. It looked like coolant, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know anything about cars.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Zach said, still shaky. His voice seemed to waver. “Was that kid playing Chicken on the street?” I just shook my head, looking over toward the road. All up and down it, I only saw dark forest. The branches of the trees whipped crazily under the power of the thunderstorm. I pulled out my cell phone, swearing when I saw I had no service. We were truly in the middle of nowhere. I heaved a deep sigh, looking up. Chuckles was kneeling down in front of the tire, trying to peer under the car.
“This is going to need to get towed,” Chuckles said, stating the obvious. I started to calm down, realizing that the situation could have been a lot worse. I could have killed the kid, after all, or smashed into a tree and killed one of my friends or myself.
“We’re going to need to walk and find a house,” I said, going back to the car for umbrellas. Zach looked down at the ground, frowning. I followed his gaze, seeing a snake slithering around his feet. It jerked mechanically, twisting its body in strange figure-eights. Its skin gleamed black like that of a watersnake, but it had no eyes and its mouth looked toothless. Zach reached down and picked it up by the neck.
“Don’t!” I yelled, but he gave me a sideways glance.
“I’ve been picking up snakes since I was a kid,” he said. “The trick is to grab them by the neck right behind their heads so they can’t twist around and bite you. Not like we really have any venomous ones up here anyway, except for an occasional water moccasin. But I…” He stopped suddenly as the snake’s head popped off in his hands. The body immediately stopped its strange twisting and jerking. I took a step back, aghast at what I saw.
The snake had gears and wires and cables running through its thin body. It was some sort of machine.
***
We started walking then, a rising, nervous energy filling our group. Even Chuckles seemed uncharacteristically spooked and quiet.
“What in the hell is this thing?” Zach wondered aloud, peering into the open mouth. It had no tongue, no teeth, just a smooth, plasticky black hole leading inwards.
“I bet it’s some kid’s toy,” Chuckles exclaimed suddenly. “Yeah, obviously. That’s just some kid’s stupid RV toy. I bet it’s the same kid who ran into the street! He’s probably watching us, messing with us right now! He’s driving fake snakes into…” He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as he looked ahead on the road.
Hundreds of the black, eyeless snakes skittered and writhed across its surface, twisting as if their spines were snapped. As we got closer, I could hear gears whirring and grinding. It was hard to hear over the roar of the rain, but the sound was definitely there.
I heard a snapping of twigs to my right in the forest. Looking over, I saw two silvery eyes peering out of the thick brush, so far away that they were almost entirely obscured by the fog. The skin around them appeared dead and white like bleached bones. But the bushes blocked most of the creature’s body and face. It was as if it was peeking at us. When it saw me looking, it quickly ducked down, disappearing from view.
“I think I just saw something,” I whispered, but my friends paid no attention. They were staring at the snakes with their mouths open. Zach threw the head and body to the side, went to the group of them and grabbed another one. Its head also came off with a popping sound, showing more gears and metal.
“What is this place?” Zach asked in wonder.
“Guys, I saw something in the woods,” I said louder. “Something’s watching us. And it didn’t look like a human. Maybe an animal, I don’t know.” Chuckles and Zach looked increasingly nervous. I listened to the rhythmic pattering of the rain on my plastic coat, feeling how my heart raced, beating in my ears at a frenetic pace.
“These are just machines anyway,” Zach said dismissively, deciding to step through the pile of mechanical snakes. But as soon as he stepped on the first one, it twisted its body. Its shiny, eyeless head snapped around in a blur. Two hypodermic needles shot out of its mouth, flicking out like the teeth of a rattlesnake. It clamped down on Zach’s leg, shaking its head like a rabid dog. Zach shrieked in surprise and pain, quickly stepping back and falling. I caught him. Chuckles reached out and pulled the snake by the tail. Its body came off, but the head stayed attached to Zach’s leg, like a tick’s head stuck deep in the flesh.
“God, get it off! Dammit, get this fucking thing off of my leg!” he screamed, flailing and circling. “It burns, it burns, God, that burns!” Chuckles reached forward, trying to pry the jaws open, but the head remained firmly stuck, the needles biting deep into his muscle.
I ran forward. With the combined strength of Chuckles and myself, we finally were able to pry the jaws loose. As the needles came out with a sucking sound, I saw drops of something falling out of their hollow ends. It was a sluggish, thick liquid that looked as blue as cyanide and shimmered like opals.
Zach’s eyes began to roll back in his head. Chuckles threw the now-still snake head off to the side of the road and ran forwards, catching Zach as he fell. I grabbed his arm, and we began to drag him back towards the car, away from these eerie mechanical creatures.
He started coughing up great gouts of blood. It streamed in thick jets from his mouth. Only the whites of his eyes shone in his pale, bloodless face. He began to kick and flail. His lips and fingernails took on a bluish cast. We laid him down on the pavement and watched him die. Whatever poison was in those snakes, it was rapid-acting and lethal. The entire process had taken less than twenty seconds.
“Oh, Jesus, I think he’s dead, man,” Chuckles said, sweating heavily. “What in the hell is this place? We need to get out of this town. We’ll start walking back toward the highway and flag down a car.” I nodded, feeling shell-shocked and sick. I didn’t point out that we hadn’t seen any cars. I watched Zach’s face as blue, cyanotic streaks ran down his neck and up his arms. He exhaled a final time, a long, choking breath. His body stayed stiff and twisted in death, like a man dying of tetanus. His mouth remained open in a silent scream.
“I can’t believe it,” I said simply, staring down at Zach’s body. His sleeve had pulled up in his death throes, and I saw what looked like a tattoo of numbers. They reminded me of tattoos I had seen on pictures of inmates who survived death camps. I knelt down, pulling the sleeve up. It was just plain black numbers on the bottom of his arm, reading “402202”. I was about to say something to Chuckles when something pale moved out of the corner of my eye.
I looked up and saw a child, standing at the edge of the forest. His face looked like it was painted chalk-white. He had no hair on his body that I could see. His lipless mouth pulled apart in a silent grin, showing blackened gums and sharp, filthy teeth. The eyes reflected the dim light pouring in through the thunderclouds. They shone like a tarnished mirror, darkly.
He raised his thin, emaciated finger and pointed at us, laughing silently like some demonic mime. His white face cracked into an expression of glee. He rocked his small body back and forth, making no sounds.
His face abruptly changed into a dead, slack expression. He lifted his finger to his throat, running it across his neck. I turned and started to run, grabbing Chuckles by the arm. He felt cold under my grasp. I could feel his thready heartbeat racing as his whole body trembled. He finally turned and stumbled forwards like a blind man, and we got far away from the eldritch boy as quickly as we could.
***
“Chuckles,” I said, out of breath, “slow down. We’ve gone far enough.”
“No, we haven’t,” he said. “We could never get far enough away from that shit. Never. I’ll see it in my nightmares forever.”
“Listen, I saw something before that boy appeared,” I said. “Zach had a number tattooed on his arm. 402202.” Chuckles gave me a strange look.
“So what?” he said. I pulled up my sleeve, showing him a tattoo I didn’t remember getting. It read, “307227”. His eyes went as big as saucers.
“Show me your right arm,” I said. “Pull your sleeve all the way up.” He did. He also had a number tattooed there: “410778”.
“What the fuck?” he said, squinting and putting his arm right up to his eyes, as if he expected the numbers to fade like an optical illusion. “I never got this tattoo. Why would I get numbers tattooed on my arm?”
“I don’t remember getting this tattoo either,” I said. “I’ve never gotten a tattoo. I never planned on getting a tattoo. So how the hell do these numbers just appear on my arm suddenly? Why can’t I remember getting it, or what it means?” He just shook his head, confused.
“What is the last thing you remember before today?” he asked as we walked quickly along the street. Our rainboots left reverberating thuds that echoed through the dancing trees. I kept glancing left and right, expecting to see more of those children with the bone-white faces and glowing eyes.
“I… I remember driving here, of course,” I said. But I didn’t remember leaving. I couldn’t remember yesterday or much of anything, really. I remembered my childhood, my family and the house I grew up in. But after that, it was like my memory had a black hole eating away at it.
“This is weird,” Chuckles said. “My memory is blank, too. I remember… school and growing up and everything, but then as a teenager, it starts to turn black. You think someone drugged us or something? I bet if Zach was alive, he wouldn’t be able to remember much either.” I nodded.
“I’ve heard of the CIA using drugs to try to wipe memories during MKULTRA,” I said. “Maybe sodium thiopental and electroshock torture could wipe out memories. Or brainwashing.” I wondered if I was laying on a bed in some cold, concrete room right now with agents in black suits running wires into my brain. Perhaps this was all some kind of delirious nightmare.
The forest opened up into a field on our left. I glanced over, constantly checking our sides and backs for signs that we were being followed. But I didn’t see mechanical snakes there or children with glowing eyes. There was a giant cube the color of black granite about twenty feet high. The whipping wind blew against it. Waterfalls of rain poured down its surface, as if its exterior were made of some sort of writhing plastic. Its skin seemed to shiver. It jiggled as if it had jelly inside, dancing and vibrating in the wind.
“Whoa,” Chuckles said, walking slowly over to it. He put his hand out, deciding to touch its surface.
“I wouldn’t do that…” I said, but it was too late. His hand made contact. Where he touched it, the blackness faded into a white, ghostly handprint. I thought I could see through the gelatinous skin in that spot, into the thick, jelly-like interior of this strange monolith.
I walked up, repeating the experiment. I put my hand on the surface. It felt warm to the touch and seemed to twitch under my hand, responding as if I had just picked up an angry, crawling spider. A chill ran down my back, but I didn’t back away. I traced a random number on its surface. It faded away, and then a question mark appeared, a pale, curving line tracing down its skin. So I tried an experiment.
“Hi,” I wrote on the surface. The letters burned there, white-hot as lightning. Then they slowly faded, the black, granite-colored skin shivering in excitement.
“Hello.” The letters appeared in front of us in computer script, etched across the gelatinous surface of the cube. They shone white, then quickly faded.
“Holy shit,” Chuckles said, looking over at me. “It can talk! Or maybe someone is controlling it. Maybe this is like some Wizard of Oz shit, and there’s a little man behind a curtain somewhere writing on a keyboard.” I thought for a long moment, then wrote a simple question.
“Where am I?” I wrote.
“The area called Union, where the roads lead in circles and the children of the dead feed on the living,” the cube responded.
“What do the numbers on my arm mean?” I wrote.
“You are all patients of a mental asylum,” the cube responded. The letters were traced precisely in rapid order, flashing across eye level. “All patients had numbers tattooed on their arms. This is why you can’t remember a lot of things. This entire area is cut off from the rest of the world. Your memory was damaged in prior experiments.”
“Why am I here?” I wrote.
“The government finds people it deems worthless, life-long mental patients with no family or friends. They bring them in here to feed the demon children of Union and to watch the results of the experiments.”
“And what are you?” I finally wrote, seeing the white lines tracing against the shivering skin of the cube.
“I am a supercomputer,” it wrote, “a combination of organic matter and circuits. My job is to record the data from the experiment. I will not help or harm you in any way, except through the transmission of knowledge which I am allowed to convey. If you survive the experiment, you will be allowed to leave.”
“What is the way out?” I wrote.
“Error: Code 99. You are not authorized to access this data,” it wrote.
“How can I survive the experiment?” I wrote.
It repeated the message, saying, “Error: Code 99. You are not authorized to access this data.” I looked at Chuckles, and suddenly, my body felt burning hot, despite the cooling winds and the rain.
“I think we have a bit of a problem,” I said, feeling trapped and terrified. Chuckles’ haunted eyes mirrored my anxieties, and our fear built on each other’s. I wondered if, right now, we were being watched. I figured the chances of that were 100%.
***
We continued going down the road. I wondered if we should try cutting through the forest. Perhaps the road just went in a circle as the cube had said, or perhaps they just ended randomly. But Chuckles argued that we could move much faster on the road than through the thick brush and trees of the forest.
The street curved ahead. The fog blew in thicker and wetter than before. The lightning started up again with a revitalized energy. In the nearby forest, trees cracked and split under the onslaught. Behind the shrill cacophony of the wind and thunder, I heard a woman screaming in panic and terror. It seemed to go on and on. As Chuckles and I stopped dead in our tracks, a pretty, young girl in her twenties covered in blood and cuts came sprinting around the corner. The rain mixed with the crimson streaming down her face, arms and chest, washing it away into the chaotic currents streaming by her feet.
Behind her, I saw one of those bone-white children with the glowing, pale eyes. This one held a sharp, curving dagger in her little rotted hand. Blood dripped from the blade’s tip. The girl laughed silently, her long, mummified hair flying out behind her. Her feet looked skinned. Pieces of bone shone through the flesh like the first rays of sun streaming through a storm. The naked soles slapped lightly against the ground as she pointed at the woman and grinned. Her eyes gleamed brighter for a moment as she stopped, looking at Chuckles and me with a cocked head. She dropped the knife to her side, letting her arm hang loosely, swinging slightly back and forth.
“She’s going to kill me!” the woman screamed at us, running towards me. She collapsed in my arms. I felt the warm streams of her blood running over my hands as I held her. She cried, looking back at the grinning girl standing as still as a corpse on the road.
“Go away!” Chuckles yelled, waving his arms at the girl as if she were simply a particularly pernicious bird. She just kept smiling, staring at us. My heart felt like ice as I met her blank, dead eyes.
I looked down at the woman in my arms, seeing a number tattooed on her naked arm. Her large, blue eyes met mine. I saw her dilated pupils, the waves of adrenaline that shook her body like a hurricane. A raspy, sick voice rang out from behind me. I spun my head, seeing the boy had joined us now, too. We were trapped between the two abominations.
“Hide and seek, hide and seek. It’s raining, time to play some games,” he hissed. “Run. You don’t want to be caught.” He pulled his small, decaying hand from behind his back, revealing a gleaming butcher’s knife. He grinned. The girl started silently laughing, the tight, dead skin around her mouth cracking and ripping. Drops of black blood ran down her chin like oily tears.
I hauled the woman up and the three of us ran in a blind panic into the woods, hearing the diseased voice of the boy counting down from ten behind us.
***
“She slashed me over and over with the knife,” the woman cried in pain. I saw flaps of skin hanging down from the cuts on her body. It made me sick to my stomach. But I kept pushing her forward, even though she seemed weakened from the blood loss. All the slashes looked like surface wounds, as if they wanted to stretch out her suffering and death.
“We need to run,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “If they catch us, they will cut us all open and kill us slowly.” I felt certain of that. Chuckles cried, his hysterical sobs coming out in choking gasps.
“I don’t want to die,” he said as he ran by my side. “I don’t want to die. Please. I’m so scared right now.” He started repeating it like a mantra: “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.”
I heard him gasp as his foot caught a rock and he stumbled and fell. I looked back, seeing dozens of those children streaming through the woods like a plague of pale, grinning locusts. They all had blades and silently laughing expressions on their hairless, white faces. They were only a couple dozen feet behind us. They moved in a blur, seeming to tiptoe on the leaves, creeping forward at a demonic speed.
I knelt down, trying to force Chuckles’ to get up. A little boy was only a few steps behind us by now. I looked up just in time to see the gleaming knife coming down.
I cried out as it sliced through my hand. A burning pain radiated up my arm. I stepped back as the silent boy laughed like a mime, pointing at me in a parody of exhilaration and gaiety. Chuckles’ whimpered like a child who had just glimpsed the monster from his nightmares crawling out under his bed.
“Please, no…” he whispered as the knife came down again, piercing his eye and exploding through his brain. He froze then like a puppet with its strings cut. The eye exploded in a slow trickle of thick gore. I took off, running, my heart hammering as little feet stayed only a few feet behind me, dully thudding against the earth in quick, berserk steps.
Up ahead, I saw the woman, but now she was staggering badly, wavering on her feet. She kept dripping blood as she ran frantically away. Finally, she started to slow. I caught up with her.
“Keep going!” I said, though I knew she could not. Stark patches of ruddy color exploded on her pale, bloodless cheeks. Her bluish lips chattered. She shook and eventually just started stumbling forward, her many cuts still bleeding.
I tried to grab her hand and pull her, but a little girl grabbed her shirt. At that moment, I had no alternative.
I abandoned her and took off, knowing I would be the next to die. My heart broke for her as she pleaded in guttural tones for mercy. I knew that even I couldn’t keep running forever. Yet these children- they seemed like they could. They never got tired. Their grins and silent laughter never faded.
Just as my energy started to give out and I stumbled and fell, bright, LED lights flashed through the woods a few dozen feet away. They pointed at my face, then at the creatures directly behind me. One of the rifles turned straight up to the sky and fired a warning shot into the air. I screamed, thinking they would shoot me next. The children all froze in place, their pale, blank eyes wide and curious, their heads cocked as they stared at the soldiers. Their smiles had faded into slack, rigor mortis expressions.
I continued to crawl forward as men in black SWAT suits and gas masks bounded forwards. Besides automatic rifles, the ones in front also had cattle prods. I didn’t know why at first. I started to crawl away from them.
“Get back!” they screamed at the undead children, activating the cattle prods in the air with bright sparks of blue energy. The children hissed and spat, still looking down at me with hunger and bloodlust.
And yet, after a few moments, the first of them turned and started slowly walking away, back towards the bodies of those who had fallen in our frantic sprint to life.
I saw them gather around the body of the woman, kneeling down. They began to bite and suck at her pale skin. From far away, I watched as they drank her cooling blood.
***
“Congratulations,” the man in the SWAT suit said, still holding the electrified cattle prod in one hand and a pistol in the other. He had an automatic rifle slung around his back. He stood in the front of the group, probably their leader. Behind him, another dozen men had gathered, silently watching me like faceless statues. “You are the last survivor of Union. We are allowing you to leave.” The gas mask muffled his voice. I felt like I was staring into the eyes of a fly, the circular, black glass revealing nothing.
“Really?” I said, backing up instinctively from the man, not trusting any of these figures. “Thank God! Jesus Christ. I…” But that was all I got to say before the cattle prod came up and I fell, writhing and kicking. Surges of electricity flowed through my muscles like the currents of an electric chair. I tried to scream, but my muscles seized up. I felt a needle bite into my neck and saw a dark hood came down over my face. An eternity seemed to pass then, as black as the abyss and as cold as death.
***
I woke up dumped in the downtown of our capital city. It was the middle of the night. I was alone, cold and stiff in some alleyway. Yet I was alive. Why? I didn’t know at the time, but I think that they want to watch the long-term effects of their experiment.
I’ve been staying on the move ever since. Sometimes, I think I see black SUVs following me. Sometimes, I think I see men with their cold, killers’ eyes pretending not to watch me.
But even worse than that, sometimes I catch a glimpse of another pair of eyes.
And these ones dance and shine in the air, like two dull lights glowing in the darkness of Hell.

The door was of stone same as the rest of the place. They walked slowly towards it, almost hesitant for fear of what they might find, previous experiences having spoiled their curiosity. In their wake, both women left a storm of swords and blood. The door opened with a deep throated grumble, trepidation slowly creeping upon them with furtive feet. Even though cultists lay behind them, thirsting for their blood, they took time to ensure there were no more traps. The zealots were far away and limping, they had time.
‘There are none, that was the last’, said Ginendertha.
Volra hurried to pull Kiral in and then closed the door before the zealots could reach them. Inside, pitch-black darkness coiled about them. At the very end was a tree of unknown nature.
Leafless but for willowy, white beards adorning its branches and older than time itself. They wouldn’t have known the tree was there except for the blue glow at its center.
The trunk opened like the maw of a kraken in one of the old scenes from the Udun Caves to the east. Inside, was a gelatinous, blue glow that spun and emitted a light breeze that grew stronger the closer one got. Galakni stood before it, red cloak flapping behind him.
There was no hiding from him. The self proclaimed prophet turned around and smirked, “Volra”, he said softly, “Like always, you arrive at the perfect time. Now you can watch the very moment of my ascension”.
She felt Kiral slither away in the dark, giving a wide berth to take him from behind, “Why don’t you face me now? Surely I can be disposed of before you become a god?”, she said, hoping to goad him into a fight.
Thinking it mockery he said, “One does not pass the opportunity to wield such power. Especially when we had it in our hands all along”, he looked to the Spear in his hand, “My sweet sister and my father both wish to defend the realm. To call able warriors to arms and hold our borders like breakwater”, his tone became frustrated, “But they don’t think high enough. We have the Spear of Mof in our hands. Mof the Howler was not only a great chief but a great sorcerer as well. Never did we think that maybe his spear was the very key to all our problems”
“My father was a usurper, you know? After his mother’s death, he took power from his younger brother. A week later, my dear uncle was found dead in the middle of the forest. The wars against Kynha domination and Karska encroachment bought us freedom and prosperity. We paid with blood for those victories. The blood of our friends, lovers, and relatives. That was his legacy and ours. There’s no way I’m ever going to let you get in my way. I would kill children if that was what it took to keep what we fought for”.
“And that is why”, he sighed, “I cannot relent now. Too many years have been spent needlessly shedding our own blood when we could’ve laid waste to whole armies with but a spell”.
With a dash, he made for the tree. Evading Kiral’s killing thrust by a hair’s breadth. The sound of moccasin on stone rang through the halls. Volra sprinted to catch up. But it was too late. He was much closer to the tree.
A man entered the gelatinous vortex. Something else came out.
Half of Galakni was his skeleton and the other half was scales and spikes. A thin sheet of goo held his organs in place. The Spear of Mof was changed too. The old, worn out look of an old man’s shriveled prick turned into a proud gilded blade and stone haft, polished to a sheen. He propped it up next to him, decidedly unprepared for a fight.
Volra ran through her options. He made no effort to ready himself, the ground was flat and level for easy footing, her ax was in hand and light as wind. Then made to run him through. The ax crackled with bright blue squiggles like a child’s drawing. Her ax licked at him from chest to groin. But then he was behind her in an instant.
He grabbed her by the hair, pulled, then threw her further away from the tree, “I told you. Now you’ll see the results”, he growled.
Let me have at him, said Ginendertha in her head. Anger surged through her veins, “No! You’re dead, so stay dead!”.
Galakni cocked his head to the side, “Have you gone mad? Perhaps there’s something of the arcane within you. I shall find out when I break your skull open”.
With a ferocious swing, Kiral lunged. With blinding speed, he threw her into the floor without effort, head smacking stone. Her sight went black and when she blinked, she was on the floor, blood streaming from her mouth and nose. She tried to get up but fell back down.
Galakni smiled like an encouraging teacher with a struggling student, “I’m always proud of my people’s fearlessness in battle. Yet this time, it would be considered a foolish mistake”.
She spat on his feet, “Go fuck a goat”.
He put a foot on her shoulder then pushed with a fraction of his strength. It was enough to send her sliding away twelve strides, bruising her shoulder in the process. Volra made for a second attack, moving on his legs with another swing.
The cult leader swiftly stepped aside, hitting her with the butt of his spear with a meaty thud reverberating through her body.
“Aaaaaargh!”.
Getting up despite aching flesh and sinew. Volra offered another flurry of blows. Then kicked, then punched, then swung. All to no avail as he avoided all attacks and feints and complex maneuvers baked into her by Noseraph. The assassin endured a punch, a kick, and swing of his spear which aimed for her throat as she knelt on the floor, beaten. The assassin jumped away, receiving a laceration into her bicep and ribs.
Galakni didn’t smile as he usually would. Didn’t gloat at his superior abilities. Didn’t throw an insult. He just looked on sadly, “I’m beginning to see another side of you, Volra. I don’t know how I never thought of this before”, he said as he blocked another flurry of blows, “You are as determined a warrior as I have ever known. I see why Tithra likes you. I, the fool that I am, simply took you for granted. And she, fool that she is, does too”, a block, a strike, a slice at her thigh.
“Ah!”, she struggled to stand. She had thrown everything at him. She knelt on her wounded leg. Tore a piece of cloth from one leg and bandaged the wound, “I suppose that bathing in tree cum has its advantages”, she said through gritted teeth. Pain stifling her laughter.
He gave a sad smile as he waited, “You would’ve been a great warrior in the war to come. My father was right about you”. Then plunged his spear at the gash he made in her thigh.
Volra howled out her pain, leaving her voice dry and wisp. LET ME HELP! A booming sound bit at her brain. It oozed through her mind like the blood out of her leg. Strength drained away from her. All the fight she had left was spent on Galakni. Her eyelids snapped shut… a new fire coursed through her veins. Strength came back to Volra’s limbs. Her eyelids snapped open. But they were not Volra’s eyes any longer.
Slowly but surely, she got back up. Her legs wobbled as she did so, as if new to the idea. She tested the edge of her ax, watching the crackling snakes of lightning jump out and fizzle away.
Galakni raised his sole eyebrow, “You surprise me even now, Volra. If only you could…”.
“Shut the fuck up”, she said, successfully steadying herself, favoring her good leg, “Let’s just get this over with”.
“As you wish”, the cult leader resumed his pose. Spear butt on the ground as if winded from the fight.
Ginendertha threw herself at him with renewed vigor. The dull ache an echo of what Volra felt. With ax in hand, she slashed at him a few times, testing his speed. Sweat squeezed out of her skin, darkening her tunic and stinging her leg wound. She took the hurt and made it anger. Feeding more power to her swings.
Galakni dodged her, waiting for an opening. Yet patience wore thin. The assassin grew faster and faster with each slash. If he was a normal man still, his sweat would’ve broken already. But he was not a man as he might understand it any longer, he didn’t know what he was. Each block sparked and spat thunder. Ginendertha slowed not a bit as she continued pressing on him. He yelled in frustration, repaying her blows with some of his own.
First with butt, then with blade, he swirled the haft about with expert precision. Seeking a weak point in her defence, the spear dashed out, frog-like, snipping at flesh. Making small cuts here and there.
She was breathing hard now, vigor leaking down her crimson leg. Her blows were fast but his were strong.
Bone ground against bone when she moved. Wiping blood from brow, she watched as Volra pushed Galakni back into the darkness. The only evidence of violence was now the occasional spark of blue light and the ding of stone hitting stone. Galakni lay silent while the assassin breathed in and out.
Kiral knew what she must do now. Steeling herself, she reached out with one arm and dragged herself through the floor, pebbles poking her skin. Her broken shoulder burned. Bones moved in places they shouldn’t. Agony filled her like a body to a grave. She did this twenty six more times as she arrived at the blue glowing vortex beyond the tree trunk’s opening. After an eternity of blazing pain and scraping skin with rock, she reached out a hand and felt a soft kiss of ice cold air. She grabbed at the ground and pulled one more time.

Someone told me I should write up my sensory processing disorder issues and how I handle them. It turned out to be a lot of text.
So I'm plopping it here in case it might help others.
Sensory Processing Disorder, sensory aggravants, how I deal
What increases physical effects of sensory aggravants Stress, physical or emotional. Being rushed. Pregnancy. Accutane/other medication for acne. Antibiotics. Job interview. Harsh criticism. Being shouted/screamed/yelled at/shamed. Being hit/spanked/shamed as a child, especially by adults who accused and did not listen to my impressions of what happened because “talking back is disrespectful”. Inability to communicate personal needs or traumatic personal events due to lack of descriptive words/understanding/communication barrier. Recent loss, breakup, death of human or pet. Permanent loss of valuable objects/needs, whether monetary or emotional (ex: only inherited heirloom of stolen, house burned down). Housing/food instability. Physical illness. Recent medical procedure. Recent dental procedure. Dilation of eyes. Recent immunization. Multiple sensory aggravants at once. Being unable to stop or escape sensory aggravant. Having my period. Clutter.
Skin aggravant
aggravant: Coarse hair of any length, especially stubble, especially where skin folds in on itself. On my body, that is underarms/vulva/between breasts/hair on back of neck.
Physical reaction: Each individual hair feels like small sharp bristles.
What happens if I ignore it: I want to scream or cry. Visible red marks on skin, often. Full body shudders, as if experiencing forced tickling. Burning, itching sensation where the hair stubble is.
Solution: shave, wax, epilate frequently. Shave armpits daily. For me, the hair between buttocks is not a sensory issue if it is left to grow untrimmed.
Aggravant: Stubble on legs
What I feel: each individual hair catches knits, tighter clothing, rayon, leggings, tights, gets pulled. When I kneel or lay in bed, stubble against legs feels like sandpaper.
What happens if I ignore it: I want to punch something. It gets itchy. Usually red substantial red marks on lower legs. I have screamed.
Solution: hair removal frequently, wear looser pants, palazzo pants, bell bottoms, jeans. Never, ever wear leggings, tight pants, fitted pants. Never wear hose, tights, nylons. Keep razor and tweezers on hand for hair removal. Apply Gold Bond healing lotion to itching areas. When I find comfortable clothing, I buy them in all the colors. Epilation pulls hair out by the roots so it is less irritating as it grows in, however epilation hurts quite a bit to begin with. I do it in stages and take long breaks when my body starts shaking from the pain.
Issue: Dry Skin
What I feel: My dry skin cracks and catches on textiles/floochairs/socks/whatever. It hurts.
Solution: Gold Bond healing lotion. Also Cerave products and unflavored, unscented lip balm.
Issue: Scented things, basically all, but for some odd reason fresh or dried food products usually are fine. Essential oils, nope.
What I feel: Sprayed air freshener and car air fresheners make me nauseous. When I was pregnant, everything stank and everything made me throw up.
Solutions: Avoid air fresheners. Open windows, if air outside is fresh. There are phone apps that people use to decide when to run outside. Usually if the air quality is marked as “good” on those, it is safe to open windows. Use unscented soap/deoderant/personal products. When I find a candle that does not make me nauseous, I buy plenty of them. During pregnancy, all trash had to be taken out as quickly as possible. Food was generally eaten cold, as heat spreads the smells around. Heating a bowl of vinegar in the microwave then letting it sit out cut lots of smells. Cat litter needed scooped immediately and changed at least twice a month. There is some kind of spray thingie that I forget name of, a friend got it at a smoke shop. It cut smells from neighbor’s smoking cigarettes/weed. Using an enzymatic cleaner on pet stains helped.
Aggravant: Hair on head long enough to curl under and touch forehead or back of neck
What I feel: Individual hairs touching forehead itch. I scratch it.
What happens if I ignore it: I will scratch area until it hurts to make it stop itching. As a child, I cut my hair very poorly, very short to stop the itching. I will scratch it until it bleeds.
Solution: I maintain a short pixie haircut. Personally I hire a good hairstylist, find one, and stick to them. Others simply buzz-cut their hair.
Aggravant: Textures and fiber
Specific textures: velvet, all types. Cotton balls, all. Pipe cleaners, all. Most polyester fleece. Most tags. Most thick seams. All overlapped leather seams. Some printed on fabric tags, especially on older well-worn clothes where the paint-ink has melted into a rough texture. All non-cotton and non-rayon laces. Most ribbons. Most fuzzy things. Serged/overlocked seams, if done with polyester thread (In general, the thread is polyester if it does not exactly match the color of the clothing. Polyester thread is difficult to dye. On other clothing, feel the seams to see if they are a little bit rough, and look for threads that are one solid color). Wool, all. Seams in stiffer jeans, all. Elastic, all. Small bits of rubber, elastic poking through covered covered seams. Smocked outfits, all. Most ruched outfits, those with covered ruching seams and nothing poking through excepted. Nylons, hose, tights, all.
What I feel: Velvet, cotton balls, polyester fleece, pipe cleaners cause a “nails on chalkboard” shudder. Seams, rough texture, wool, ribbons, laces, small bits of elastic or rubber sticking through causes a burning itch. Nylons, hose, tights cause a burning heat that alternates with cold prickles through my lower legs. Toe seams on socks. During pregnancy, most sheets felt like sleeping on sandpaper.
What happens if I ignore it: I will scratch area until it hurts to make it stop itching. I will get red or bleeding marks on skin. I will have difficulty focusing on anything. I have cried uncontrollably. I have screamed. I unconsciously reach to where tags/seams/rough areas are and scratch. I will scratch the skin under that areas that itch until my skin bleeds, because I prefer the sensation of pain over the sensation of itching.
Solution: I buy my clothes with feel and by fiber. Rayon, bamboo, viscose, cotton, silk, and linen are usually safe. Looser clothes. Drawstring closures instead of elastic. Avoid ruching, lace, ribbons, nylons, hose, tights, wool. Buy underwear with covered elastic. Wear underwear and clothing with rougher seams inside-out. Complete removal of tags from all clothes—I have to cut open seams by removing the stitches, remove every last bit of tags from clothing and stitch it back up. Simply cutting the tag flush with the seam still leaves a bit of the tag touching my skin, causes redness/itching/sores. Use camisoles of at least 95% cotton or other natural fiber, worn seam-side out, for bra. Look for clothing recommended for people undergoing chemotherapy or radiation. I look for softer stretch jeans without a thick waist band and wide/boot cut/bell-bottom cut. For bedding, I use 100% cotton sheets with 300 thread count and preferably long staple cotton. For jewelry, I look for anything I can wear and forget that I am wearing. Soft leather cuff bracelets, solid sterling or solid gold pieces or solid brass pieces. My body is sensitive to the rest.
Aggravant: Hyperhydrosis, also known as “I sweat more than most people”
What causes it: my body has always sucked at regulating its temperature. When I hiked in the woods as a kid, I would come back soaked in sweat while other kids wearing the same kinds of clothes as me had no sweat. When participating in winter sports, my body sweats and the sweat freezes into ice against my feet/core/hands/face. Every day, palms get soaked while holding hands or objects, often wet enough for phone/tablet/objects to get dropped. The soles of my feet sweat so much they slip off yoga mats, slide off flip-flops and sandals. Armpits sweat, dripping sweat within hours of waking up. Sweat drips down chest/back within 60 seconds of exposure to temperature greater than 80 Fahrenheit.
What happens if I ignore it: People holding my hand let go and wipe their wet palms off, making an “ew” face. Phones have been destroyed by dropping. I’ve slipped/fallen from wet soles of feet sliding off footwear. Shirts soaked by sweat within minutes. Huge armpit sweat stains. Looking unprofessional in professional settings. Social awkwardness when I am supposed to shake hands. Yellow armpit stains on lighter colored clothing. Solutions:
Armpit sweat—use of Certain Dry antiperspirant daily after showering. Drying off wet armpits throughout day. Washing armpits with strong soap, occasionally alcohol hand sanitizer. Mitchum deodorant, several applications throughout day. Frequent covert sniffing armpits to see if I stink. Post-Covid destroying my sense of smell, asking trusted friends/family occasionally to see if I stink. Daily/twice daily showers. Purchasing tops with larger armscythes/armpit holes/one size up so fabric does not touch sweaty armpits. Wearing loosesleeveless tops in summer. Minimizing light colored clothing because sweat stains are real. Frequent scrubbing of armpits because build-up of deodorants is a thing. Avoiding roll-on deodorant, as that stuff feels like I dumped honey on my armpits. I tried the hippie crystal deodorant thingie all the ways, it does not work for me.
Overall body sweat in general: Limiting clothing to natural fibers—cotton, rayon, bamboo, viscose, linen, silk. Wool works well for some, not me. Long staple wool works for others, too, not for me. Avoiding all polyester mix fabrics as a base layer unless specifically woven to wick. Polyester makes natural fibers warmer, causing more sweat. I choose polyester-cotton mix for hoodies because warmth. Using a jacket or cardigan that can be removed as needed. Applying cornstarch powder, thin layer, to folds before sweating. Applying Certain Dry antiperspirant immediately post-shower to skin folds if I will be outdoor in heat in a professional setting. Otherwise tucking t-shirt into camisole to absorb sweat dripping down my back/stomach. Yes, I look weird. If I pretend I do not care, others pretend they do not care and we get along fine. Avoiding wearing layered tops, with the exception of a jacket/cardigan. Avoiding/minimizing clothing that is fitted and light-colored. Avoiding outdoors during heat of day. Was unable to feel comfortable with heat/sweat/etc., so did not attain my dream career. Instead pursued career that has me working air-conditioned settings. Some people get Botox injections to stop sweat. I have tried prescription strength deodorant on hands to stop hand sweat, this did not work for me.
Foot sweat: Summer footwear—Chaco sandals with the toe strap, have to frequently adjust toe strap to minimize strangling of big toe. Sandals made of leather with zero man-made/”vegan leather” facing of leather work well, too, as leather absorbs sweat. I read ingredients tag on shoe, avoid any sandals that say “man-made leather uppers”. Moccasin with real leather sole inside that does not have a “ledge” of leather on the foot sole. Etsy shop TreadLightGear product Raw Cut Inca Moccasin with Vibram Sole has been my go-to, the product is pricy at $270 for a pair. My pair was purchased four years ago, remains working well. Requires leather cleaning products/leather conditioning care about twice yearly. I had to send my pair back to have sole shortened. Lightweight mesh shoes for sneakers. Grippy foot socks and hand mitts when doing yoga. Have tried multiple allegedly wicking socks, so far socks with over 65% cotton work best for me. Wool socks do not work for me due to wool sensitivity. Have not found hiking boots that work for me.
Outdoor winter activities leaving me soaked in sweat, have not found a solution. Possible solution could be wicking silk underwear. Dharma Trading Company has silk knit underwear starting at around $15 per item for tops, I have not yet tried their products.
Hand sweat: I minimize holding hands, found a significant other who is cool with breaks to wipe sweat off during hand holding. I covertly wipe my hand prior to shaking hands.
Sounds Aggravants: Loud music/concert/noise I cannot escape or turn down or shut off. Constant background noise with words that I cannot understand, such as a radio turned down low in another room. Crying/fussing/calls of distress from any human or animal. Constant whooshing noise, such as toilet running, ceiling fan. Anything with a heavy beat I can physically feel in my body. Most white noise. Any high-pitched constant squeak such as comes from an older TV/computer monitor. Repeated higher-pitched unvaried bird/bug calls. Cicada chirps. Shouting/yelling/screaming. High pitched, strident voices. Loud voices. Voices at full-volume near my ear. Loud speakers. Alarms, all. All sound sensitivity is increased when I have earaches/ear infection/itchy ear canals, all of which are common with my body. With an ear infection in front of a loud industrial speaker during a calmly spoken sermon at church, it felt as though someone hammering my internal eardrums. With changes in altitude, it feels as though someone is shoving chopsticks into my ears, worse if active ear issues. Sharp sounds in echo-ey locations, gives the chopsticks-jamming-into-eardrums sensation. Tinnitus, which I have continuously in both ears. There are two different pitches, one in each ear. Sitting in a silent room makes the tinnitus louder.
What happens if I ignore it: After ten to fifteen minutes, I become jittery and must fight against yelling, screaming, or snapping. I begin to physically shake. After around 30 minutes, I have intrusive suicidal thoughts. I have screamed with extended exposure. I have taken apart particularly malfunctioning radios that made terrible sounds, and used the speaker magnets like so many hunting trophies on my fridge. I have smashed things satisfyingly, very carefully, only things that can be replaced. With whooshing sounds, I get an uncontrollable random full body shudder. Once this happened during a haircut, and the hair stylist treated me like a pervert afterwards, so now I warn stylists that I get full body shudders.
Solution: For constant background noise I cannot escape, one earbud in my ear playing music/podcast/audiobook I can focus on helps a lot. Lacking that, one foam ear-plug squished long and thin lengthwise then pushed into ear canal leaving a bit out, and left to expand makes noise tolerable. There are specialized ear plugs used by musicians in orchestra pits, I have not tried these yet. On earbuds, I listen to BBC radio. The most soothing podcast for me personally is “In Our Time” by the BBC. I also use Audible and library card with app Libby for free audiobooks, and search social media/Reddit/blogs/web search for deep voiced/lower pitched/soothing narrators. The Vaughan Williams Academy of St Martin-in-the-fields Neville Marriner 1972 album is particularly calming. I do not know why the higher pitches on it are not sensory aggravants.
Using a portable bluetooth speaker for watching movies at home so I can turn the volume up and down minimizes migraines from sounds. Hanging tapestries in echoey rooms at home minimizes painful echoes. I avoid concerts, crowded loud places. Turning down middle and high pitches on car radios helped. Take ear plugs to movies, or just plug my ears during the loud parts. In one particularly echoey room taught by a teacher with a strident voice, I used one ear plug or wore a thick large-hooded jacket to minimize the sound waves bouncing back into my ears.
Very high-pitched frequencies interfere with my constant ear-ringing (tinnitus) with what seems to be sound-wave interference. There are varying beats inside my head depending on what high-pitched frequency I am hearing.
If the noise is a cry of help, I figure out why the human or animal is crying and help them. Stray animals, to the humane society. Sick pet, to the vet. Crying baby, hold them or change diaper or bottle. If that is not possible, I go to another room and shut doors between us. Noise canceling headphones or earbuds can help. Personally, my ear canals are sensitive so I require earbuds with interchangeable rubber ear thingies. I always use the smallest size of ear thingies.
Pain and gut and postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS, stupidest acronym ever) issues:
Issue: abdominal pain
What the aggravants are: I have medically diagnosed (after surgery, endoscopy, cystocopy, et al.) interstitial cystitis, endometriosis, and irritable bowel syndrome. This means I frequently have urinary tract infection symptoms while testing negative for an infectious agent in my urine, slow gastric motility, frequent nausea. Combined with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (dizzy when stand up, pulse increases 30 beats per minute upon standing), I get nausea upon standing. I get bloating. Any pressure on my abdomen is painful (clothing, pet or kid tromping on my belly, hand of significant other resting on my belly while we snuggle before sleep, etc.). I get increased dizziness after eating a large meal. There is frequent stabbing gut pain, sudden unpredicable urges to have a bowel movement or urinate. There is unpredictable constipation interspersed with liquid diarrhea. I have intense sensitivity to food poisoning, new food types must be introduced gradually or severe constipation or liquid diarrhea will occur. Frequent straining to evacuate bowels plus pregnancy has resulted in constant external hemorrhoids. I am in ongoing consultation with gut doctors to manage this whole shebang.
What happens if I ignore it: I wind up doubled over in agony.
Solution: I found a career that does not micromanage my bathroom breaks. Generic Miralax daily per gut doctor’s recommendation. Occasional writing all the foods and gut reactions down, exhaustively, has only shown that eating oatmeal is likely to cause a bowel movement soon. Testing for gluten allergy has been negative. Largely avoid new food groups from new restaurants, prepare most foods at home. I feel better with higher protein intake but a keto diet makes me feel angry. I live on rice, beans, frozen and seasonal fruits and vegetables, chicken, and an embarrassing amount of protein bars. I eat when I am hungry, and pay attention to food cravings. If the idea of eating a food makes me nauseous, I do not eat that food, for I will puke it up. Frequent use of anti-nausea medications, especially zofran. I try to eat smaller meals. I do not eat large meals while at work. I always take medications with food unless specifically contra-indicated.
Increasing salt intake helps decrease the dizziness with standing. A Mexican salted plum treat called saladitos helps with salt. I like the lemon flavor ones, but in general the salted plum is an aquired taste. Drinking pickle juice helps some. Eating salted pickles helps.
Gut issues and clothing: I cannot wear typical thick jeans because seams and the one-button closure irritates my skin and puts pressure on my bladder. I must wear stretchy denim with thin waistband, and preferably two-button, pull-on, or snaps for closure. I tend towards drawstring linen or palazzo pants without elastic, as any stretched elastic on my waistband causes painful abdominal pressure.
Specific brands and styles and clothes stuff brain dump:
I find traditional clothing styles such as cotton kurtas from India work well. Well-worn often-washed cotton clothing such as 100% cotton scrubs from the thrift store worn seam-side out on terrible sensory days is nice. Oddly, the cotton-polyester drawstring scrub pants at all the hospitals works well. Shopping for clothes at a thrift store and feeling for rough seams, soft fiber helps. Read tags for fiber content (then cut open the seams carefully and remove that itchy tag). Avoid decorations that touch skin such as non-cotton lace, non-silk ribbons. If in doubt, test inexpensive soft things you’ve purchased by burning a bit of a hidden seam. If the fabric burns instead of melting, you have a natural fiber. A crunchy or hard little melted plasticy ball or tar-like smell indicates polyester or other synthetic oil-based synthetic fibers. Target and Walmart frequently offer tag-free clothing. That is great. Expect the printed tag on clothing to melt in a hot dryer over time and become rough and itchy. Replace item or wear it inside out when that happens. There are hippie style clothes sewn with visible seams on the outside. I collect those kinds of clothes. I buy underwear that is cotton, silk, or linen. I look for covered seams, no lace or ribbons, and I usually wear it inside out. I often wear older-fashioned or vintage clothing or SCA/LARP kinds of clothes. Tap pants are nice. Bloomers are nice.

I 38f have three sisters all super close in age 41-37. By the time I was 4 years old we were left alone for long periods of time. We played in a creek alone, my 3 year old sister brought home a bucket of water moccasins. Next she nearly lost two toes in that creek, bleeding out everywhere with no parents in sight we had to carry her home covered in blood. By the time I was eight years old our parents were on the verge of divorce so they dropped us off at my mother's stepdad for the summer. I was locked into a dark bedroom and starved, memory gets foggy not sure how many weeks or days passed. I was not allowed out or to eat until I finished a softball size meatball, I was vegetarian. This meatball would be left on the kitchen counter uncovered and given to me day after day. I found out in later years that he abused my mom, made her try on bras for him or he wouldn't buy them. He would beat them so bad when drunk, he was always drunk. And my mother left her 4 daughters with him, I have daughters of my own and it makes me absolutely sick. Years later and we absolutely cannot speak of our childhood because it didn't happen. She has no accountability. My mom has one favorite kid and only those grandkids seem to matter, I cut ties a year ago. Now she is saying it's not fair to keep her from my kids and sending secret messages through my nieces. The final straw was for 2 years I would get an automated message when I called her, wouldn't go through. I called from another number and shocking she answered, claims she didn't have me blocked. Now she is crying to anyone that will listen while trash talking me. I feel I am doing the right keep my abusive mother away from my kids. Am I over reacting?

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Big hyperdrama Spoilers below

Justice talks Hyperdrama track by track - with details/descriptions on every song via Discover music Japan .
translation Taken directly from a Japanese site by using google translate and it all doesn’t translate perfectly (LOL) VERY spotty and funny but you can def pickup on the vibe of a lot of the tracks here!
This was the link it was at : https://www.udiscovermusic.jp/stories/justice-hyperdrama-trackbytrack
Here’s the rough google translation copied :
Neverender (Starring Tame Impala)
>! It's a very justice song in spirit, with a French touch filter, and it's essentially pop. "Neverender", in which Kevin Parker of Tame Impala is a guest, decorates the opening of this duo's new work with a lively pop theme song full of dance and melancholy. !<
>! The album "Hyperdrama" is a great epic full of joy, and it is colored with energetic rhythms, changing moods, disco-like phrases, and gaba-style gimmicks, and a sound mug centered on one thing. Everything is converging in Ma. The core is, in other words, "groove". !<
>! The first song "Neverender" of this work, which has the most collaborative color in the history of Justice, is a melancholic and psychedelic world unique to Tame Impala and a vivid dance world that Justice is good at, It is a proof that it is very compatible. !<
>! “That thing has always been in the corner of our heads. There's obviously something special about his song, and it's going to swell in here. He has the ease of understanding of the melody, know-how, and genius. It's very different to be active in the mainstream with his unique musicality." !<
2.Generator
This may be the song that summarizes the philosophy of "Hyperdrama" the most. In other words, it is a fusion that anti-naturally combines Gaba, a kind of hardcore techno that caused a major movement in the Netherlands in the 90s, and the disco of the 70s and its delicate hedonism.
From the very first few seconds at the beginning of the track, a pompous gimmick, a micro break full of euphoria, and a vacuum cleaner sound (in honor of the legendary Thunder Dome Festival) that is characteristic of Gaba. "Generator", which rushes into the deadly Gaba Beat, is scattered, turns into an irresistibly attractive fusion of disco and funk after 2 minutes and 30 seconds.
It's like a medley that combines the two visions of dance and performance on the dance floor, decorated with a string and an unmistakable chic (Chic) base. In short, it's Disco Gaba!
"In the 20th anniversary of Ed Banger in London, we played a lot of Gaba Tracks. At first, everyone feels a little annoying, but there's something like this, something very euphorating and exhilarating."
3. Afterimage (Starring RIMON)
Everything starts with a heavy and powerful rhythm like the slowed down EBM (electronic body music), and RIMON (a Dutch artist discovered by Pedro Winter, Justice's As a woman who sings on the track, the muffled sensual singing voice of "Tthee Ppaarrttyy" is supported by exquisitely beautiful backing vocals, and it's like "I Feel Love" Develop this song into a synthetic, ecstatic and punchy disco number that seems to have been independently arranged by Justice
>! “When I first started, it was a 180bpm Gaba track, but I reduced the speed to the maximum to add harmony. That will make the whole thing soft and open the way to be more sensual. Pedro made a bridge between RIMON and us. We did the recording of her song at our studio, but we took the approach of using her voice as if it were an old sampling and treated it like a house truck. Regarding all the guests who were candidates this time, we had a certain idea of what they could do and what they could bring. Everyone has different visions of our music, so it was fun to find the most natural way to incorporate it." !<
>! “By working with them, we were able to exchange various ideas and fine-tune the melody, lyrics, interpretation, etc. When the album was completed, we found out that our choice was not a product of chance. Everyone, more or less, applies to the same common person review. In other words, they are independent artists who often do everything by themselves, from composition to singing, producing, and performing. They're the same bedroom producers like us." !<

1. One Night/All Night (starring Tame Impala)

"One Night/All Night", which can be said to be the essence of justice with a dance floor-oriented cold wave beat, progressive pad, and a devilishly funky break, is Kevi The second track of "Hyperdrama" in which N Parker participated is influenced by the songs of the Gaba compilation.
"I slowed down the basic riff, then rearranged everything, played acoustic instruments, and made funk parts in the middle and end."
That's the explanation on the Justice side.
"I'm going back and forth between the two parts unexpectedly, but smoothly. This song became a template for most of the songs included in this album."
The love-sweet and melancholy pop song "One Night/All Night", which is perfect for singing while taking a shower and dancing all night, says, "It's okay to be your woman" with a sweet voice like honey. Various boundaries are seamlessly fused, up to the lyrics declared by in. It is a song that Justice traces Prince's "If I Was Your Girlfriend" that casts a shadow on the whole album in a sophisticated way.

1. Dear Alan

>! “Dear Alan" in honor of Alan Blacks (I think they meant Braxe…) is undoubtedly the track that pays the greatest homage to the genealogy of Justice's French House. While making various quotations from multiple sources, the boundaries are blurred, and after listening to the break that goes in rapid succession, the return, the sampling that can play soap bubbles, and the gentle melody, the divine ele like a chant. It becomes a Kutro Soul Ballad and reaches its climax and closes. !<
>! "I was aiming to break away from the format of a used song called Verse ~ Chorus ~ Verse ~ Chorus, because I was no longer excited about that. I wanted to take a more collage-like approach, and for us, it was a new way to produce like never before. There, different arrangements and orchestrations are applied to the same sequence, and it flows through the whole track." !<
>! “The sequence, which was very electronic at first, eventually turns into something very organic and lively, as if it pressed the button of space-time. What we like in today's American rap tracks has that aspect. The idea of making three tracks coexist in a two-and-a-half-minute single makes not only listeners, but also ourselves excited and nervous." !<

1. Incognito

In the album "Hyperdrama", another song "Incognito", which is composed around a deconstructed and slowed Gaba beat, first opens with a grandeur reminiscent of movie music, and Justice It goes straight to the rhythm on the verge of explosion in a saturated state with the irritation that he is good at.
"Incognito" is a large unit of lively synthesizers that neutralize the glamorous glamor, the sampling of the clever Italo Disco, and the shrill of the high-pitched machine, "Hyperdrama" " and the entry into the hardcore of the work is closer to the influence of the disco that penetrated the album "†" (cross), which is done in the category of logical continuity of exploration on the dance floor of Justice. They explain like this.
"The relationship between disco and gaba may not always be clear just by listening to it. But it's actually a very logical thing. In gaba and hardcore, it's often pitch-shifting and rearranging short sampling of disco and funk, such as James Brown."

1. Mannequin Love (starring The Flints)

>! “Mannequin Love" led by the psychedelic vocals of The Flints, a talented British twin pair with an ideal musical world located between MGMT and the Bee Gees, excavated by Gaspar, It is the most pop track in this work in a formal sense, colored by poisonous rhythms, swirling arpeggios, and vocals that sing with a lot of euphoria. !<

1. Moonlight Rendez-Vous

>! A jazzy and futuristic interlude reminiscent of Nocturne (Nocturne). This song, supported by the saxophone, provides an opportunity to take a break before heading to the second part of "Hyperdrama". The two of Justice give a clever explanation as follows.!<
>! “This is the soundtrack of the movie. In that movie, the detective who went home looks out of the window tired of a day full of unpleasant things. And I realize that it's a world full of androids and machines. It's raining outside." !<

1. Explorer (starring Connan Mockasin)

>! The most magnificent track on this album, "Explorer" first starts as a journey to the galaxy, and then changes to a gentle and sweaty disco funk groove. !<
>! In the second part, Conan Moccasin's spoken word and apocalyptic tone are there, which reminds me of Vincent Price in Michael Jackson's "Thriller." After that, the song turns into a symphonic ballad, and Conan's singing voice, which is comfortable in the ear, has a wonderful effect again. !<
>! The only guest of this work who recorded his part remotely was a mission that was not natural for Conan Moccasin, but in order to be able to feel the atmosphere of this track and the album, Conan Images of illustrations by Pierre Lapolis and Möbius were sent from the two of Jastis. !<

1. Muscle Memory

>! The anxiety-inducing anthem "Muscle Memory" featuring an arpeggio line of unstable movements that comes and goes like a boomerang is the most fruitful in this work, boosted by the sound of a dysfunctional electrocardiogram. There is no doubt that it is an experimental truck. The various sources of influence that shape the album "Hyperdrama" are condensed here. !<
>! “It took a long time for this truck to be completed. As for us, we wanted to make it sound like a machine that is about to overdrive to a point where it could collapse internally due to excessive information. It seemed to us that it was natural to use a synth, but we couldn't reach the exactness and accuracy that we were desperately aiming for. In the end, "Muscle Memory" calmed down by using 90% guitar. The guitar was an instrument that could realize the best envelope response that could produce sharp and blur-free movements using only short sounds so that the sound could be gradually repeated over time." !<
11 Harpy Dream
>! “Harpy Dream", the anagram of the album title "Hyperdrama", is an interlude that leads to the last explosion. !<

1. Saturnine (starring Miguel)

"Saturnine", which decorates the pop climax of this work in the form of Future R&B, invites Miguel, who is a big star in the American R&B world but not yet known in France, and is unrealistic and beautiful. His falsetto attracts the listener to the point of stunning.
"Saturnine", which is full of breaks and changes in form, is both fluid and full of ups and downs, experimental and at the same time in the mainstream, and by its dystopian and futuristic soul, justice It's a truck that opens up new horizons.
"Miguel is an outstanding performer. In the studio, we said to him, "Well, we're going to record your voice with a single mono take, without using any modern pop vocal effects such as reverb and autotune." It was. He was very enthusiastic at first, but when he listened to the finished truck, he asked us this. " Is it really okay that you don't want to add a little bit of reverb and octaver and make it more American sound?" That's right. So we answered like this. " No, no, trust us. When your voice is in the middle, it sounds cool and sexy.'"
"After that, some people told me that I was a little embarrassed about the way we produced his voice. But all the songs we really love, when we listen to them, we feel such a disturbing anxiety or even awkwardness, because of the composition method and the way of producing it. And after that, I won't be able to stop listening."

1. The End (starring Thundercat)

>! “The End", which Justice himself describes as a track like the end of the world, reflects their desire to work with Thundercat, a Compton singer and outstanding musician. It's a song that was done. In this truck that closes the end, the Thundercat is being pushed out of his usual safety zone.!<
>! “The End", which is based on the R&B beat and layered with many layers of angry gaba rhythm, sounds like an apocalyptic soul tornado that tightens your chest ... In other words, the seductive and magical dis called "Hyperdrama" It's a perfect finale for Ko Gaba Opera. !<

Sounds crazy but let me explain some things first. (Sprry this is so long kinda venting too)
Amy (fake name) and my brother are dating have been for about a year now. However they had a previous relationship back when he was 7th grade and she was 8th. Amy is the sole reason my brother fell into drugs and a very bad depression. She controlled who he could be friends with, pressured him into smoking, and convinced him life wasn't worth living without her. Well they split until his junior, her senior, year of Highschool when they hooked up again. I was cautious since I knew she was crazy already and I blame her for me losing any relationship I had with my brother after he went off the deep end. (He went on an anger strike including running away, multiple cop calls, and instigating many arguments with my parents.) They're relationship was okay in the beginning but she always seemed to rub me wrong. Let's just call it sisters intuition. She had this whole complex about my little sister (2yr) and acted as if she cared for her more than anyone else. Amy then acts like my other sister (12yr) doesn't exist making it even weirder, just gave me weird vibes and had me frequently taking my 2yr sister away from her. Things started to get a bit stranger as Amy was always at my house almost for the entire day just up in my brother's room with him their or not. Y'all might say she 'Could have a bad life at home!' I'll get their I promise. Anyways she started to show some major red flags to me at least, my brother is blind or maybe just clueless. Amy would through fits about my brother's curfew, 9:30pm on school days and 11pm on weekends (reasonable for a 17yr with a record and history of getting cops involved). She would be pissed if he didn't walk with her to school, or did something with his sister (12yr) without her, etc. Also another important point is they both got arrested for driving while SMOKING in her car.
(Things pick up HERE) Anyways things really went sideways during Springbreak. My brother was fine as we all loaded for the 13hr car ride during the night and was fine once we arrived. However Amy called him the second he got out of the car and they continued to talk for 4 hours while on the beach. He was still in his pj's and moccasins in the Florida heat. After that call he changed his attitude change from this is fine to 'I never have a choice in things I never wanted to come in the first place.' He kept this up for the whole first day of our 6 day vacation, yelling in public, making a scene in a restaurant, etc. And everyone knew Amy was behind it, we could literally hear here through the phone egging him on or otherwise telling him to stay in the condo cause he never needed our families love Anyways. She sounds crazy, right? So Easter happened on this break and he was an asshole so he stayed at the condo while we took family photos and crazy girlfriend comes up and ask where my brother is in the photo. My mom calls her out for being a crazy girlfriend and obviously Amy gets pissed and send my brother to start yet another fight. All in all I had more fun on this trip without my brother present, which mind you I was skipping a week of college classes to spend time with my family for this trip. When we get home he asks if things will change (as in curfew and any rule set up for him) my parents say no since you can't act like an ass and be rewarded. So he packed up his shit and left the house to stayed with his girlfriend's family.
After a week of him gone my mom finally gets a chance to talk to Amy's parents, or her Dad at least. This is where we learn why Amy is such a crazy person. I'm not shitting on anyone or how they choose to parent but if you decided to give up trying to correct your kids behavior cause it was 'too hard' then you can f*ck off when you say we have too many rules. At least my brother knows how to keep a house clean. Amy supposedly gets so mad when she is told no her parents wait until after she's done whatever she wants to talk to her about it and still don't discipline her. She has no crufew and the only form of curfew she has is a 'Are you okay?' Text is shes not back by 1am, making sense why she hates my brothers curfew then. She can't keep anything clean and her parents coddle her saying she has ADHD (I know it's a real thing, I have it. However using it as an excuse for your daughter's inability to keep her space clean enough to live in is wrong.) Also her parents blatant disregard on Amy's disrespect to my mother ticked me off. Since my brother has lived there he has taken the sole position of cleaning their house this however isn't new. He did this before the big fight(s) going so far as washing all of her clothes since it was 'too hard for her to make the trips'.
At this point I just want him away from her, she derailed his life once and it's looks like her manipulation is going to do it again. So would I be the asshole of I tried to ruin their relationship? If you think no, give me ideas on how please.