Good evening y'all (it's 11 pm EST)
I'm currently a college student pursuing an IT degree and I was speaking with my father in law about an idea for a writing skills development program. The basis of the program/website is to teach students from Elementary school to the highschool and collegiate level on how to write essays. He posits that his students he has worked with do not have a good grasp on how to format their essays and papers, which then falls short in their future academic courses and he wants to make a program that will help them step by step.
My general layout right now is that it will be split into different levels of writing. From Levels 1 through 5: Elementary, Middle School, High School, College Prep, and Collegiate level writing skills. Within each level, I'll have writing tips and exercises to help the students learn the proper way to write their essays, with the Five Paragraph Essay as the format they will be learning.
Level 1: Sentence Structure, Formatting, and Composition. This includes things like spelling, capitalization, punctuation, etc.
Level 2: Adding in proper grammar, sentence continuation, paragraph structure, readability and comprehension, editing skills (rereading to make sure it is grammatically correct, has proper punctuation, sounds academically thought out, etc). We'll introduce how to write and connect multiple paragraphs as well as intro, body, and conclusion.
Level 3: Here we'll reinforce sentence structure for Intro, body, and conclusion paragraphs as well as citation and source material research. We'll start on how to properly write a Five paragraph essay with the hourglass/pyramid format (Broad introduction that gets more specific when it gets to the thesis sentence, body paragraphs with point evidence and example sentences, and then specific reintroduction of main points to a broad conclusion of the thesis). [I may have this in the Middle school Level 2 section as this is something I learned in middle school] We will also introduce different types of essays such as Argumentative, Systhesis, Compare and Contrast, Narrative, Persuasive, etc.
Level 4: In this level we will introduce the importance of rough draft, revise and polish, editing and formatting, and college entrance essays and college application questions. This section will mostly be open to Junior (11th) and Senior (12th) grade students who are preparing for their academic life outside of Highschool. We will also be introducing how to write cover letters, resumes, and exploring the other side of life outside of High school.
Level 5: Collegiate level writing will focus on precision writing, using the fewest words necessary to accurately convey an idea. Objectivity, using accurate, clear and relevant information. Logical Structure, using precise word choice and structure. Researching, Formatting, time management, and consistence and conciseness. We will also go back to resume and cover letter writing for those who are looking for a career after a degree. We will be adding a section to help students with term paper writing as well as advancement (Masters and Doctorate level) writing.
I wanted to reach out to former, current, and aspiring English Teachers to ask for feedback on this idea. Is this something that you would use in your class as a teaching tool for your students? What can be done for this to be implemented in your classes if this website/program gets published? What things should be added, removed, improved, or changed in the current idea to make it go alongside the current English course curriculum in your school district? What else should be included to facilitate user interaction with this website?
Please give me as much feedback as you can think of, whether that is directly on this post or in a direct message. My hope and goal is to be able to develop the future generation and to move away from using AI as a writing tool because it takes away the practical skills that is severely lacking in some, if not most, of the students today.

ive been really stressed out with school lateley as the deadline for grades is in a couple days. I clean my room once a week, but it just gets messy fast. I was working on an art project all day afterschool and didnt clean like my mom asked me to, and she said "and you did nothing." I havent sh in months, but i just felt so numb after that moment and thats all i wanted to do. I wrote in my notes after and i need to share it with someone.
The words "you did nothing" really fucking hurt, mom. Its kind of crazy that i can go from wanting to tell you everything in my life to wishing i never told you any of my secrets at all. I knew i shouldnt have fucking trusted you, and i will never be able to feel like rory and lorelai gilmore with you. I will treat my daughters so much better than you will, and they will never hear those words come out of my mouth, ever. Like i get that youre fucking upset, but its the last week of worktime in school, and my grades are slipping and anything under a 90 is dissapointing to you. Be fucking glad im prioritizing my work not cleaning, because if it was the opposite id be failing all my classes. Why cant you just be fucking proud of me that i got so much work done? Ive been skipping art to help my thester teacher with her other classes preformances, and im still working my butt off on those stupid linoleum prints. I got 6 assignments done in math today, i finished a major history project, i did super good on all my benchmark tests, why is it so fucking hard to acknowledge the work im putting in just to make you proud? Its so fucking frustrating because you get mad at me when i have missing work, but them expect me to do all these other things for you. I hate that my room is clean too, i get that you put in work for me, but dad has school and work, i have school full-time, and homework outside of that, and i have a social life. You work from home and maybe work 5 hours a day, and cook dinner. I do the dishes, clean my room Atleast once a week, i fold towels, the least you could fucking do is not get all fucking pissy when i forget to do the dishes. I get that you struggle too, but your life isnt all that fucking hard, and neither is mine. So shut the fuck up and just let me be a fucking teenager while i can. My life is together, im happy, i have the best boyfriend in the world, im surrounded by good people, my mental health is finally getting better, dont ruin it all over again because my room is dirty.

I want to quickly dismiss a couple associations that this post will have.

1. This is not masochism (ie pleasure through pain).
2. This is not a method of achieving or "proving" self identity (ie "challenge yourself and find what you're made of, bud!!!")

This is a direct shot across the bow at what I see as the major cause for mental illness in the entire 1st world. In the physical health world, you have stages that lead towards obesity: there's the early stage (often termed "pre-diabetic"), then there's full on metabolic syndrome. Somewhere in between, you go from 20 lbs overweight to 100 lbs overweight. It's much easier to save someone in the early stages, as permanent long-term weight loss is extremely rare. Thus, to complete my analogy, it's my belief that there is an equivalent to this "pre-diabetic" stage of poor mental health across most of the 1st world, and the people we traditionally label "mentally ill" are merely in a more advanced stage that has become more difficult to recover from.
What ails us is that we were born into a successful society that provided for our needs without much effort on our part. Consequently, our primary daily concern is pleasure, rather than survival. We seek pleasure from the moment we wake up until the moment we go to bed through: food, entertainment, sexual gratification, and more broadly ego gratification. These are the things that give meaning to our lives. In other words, we create short and long term goals that ultimately result in the fulfillment of these objectives of pleasure. People pursue whole hobbies and careers solely for sexual gratification (get fit, make money, get chicks!). We fill up all of our spare moments with entertainment (most recently, in the form of social media, but older media forms still apply, particularly streaming television). And given that something like 70% of the US is overweight, we literally cannot help ourselves but overeat.
We'll blame these things on anything that we can. We're pursuing entertainment only because we're lonely! We're only overweight because we eat poor quality food or don't exercise! We only pursue porn because we aren't getting laid enough! No, you lack self-discipline.
But alas, this is not a post about self-discipline either. This is an attempt to illustrate your current orientation, it's core failing, and what it could be instead.
The feeling of surviving something is euphoric. Surviving a hard work day, a stressful moment around a wild animal, a taxing hike or workout, a risky move in an extreme sport, or even an act of heroism... all of these things trigger something extremely satisfying in the brain similar to what pleasure is doing for you now. Imagine if you could get yourself addicted to this form of success instead of pleasure chemical success. You would have new capabilities, a satisfaction with yourself, AND you would also be happy like you feel for brief moments right now. Now imagine how you could build up this feeling of happiness all day by pursuing these goals because your brain would be rewarding you in anticipation of more success. This is what pushing yourself can actually do.
Note: the amount of joy you feel from surviving something is NOT equivalent to the amount of pain experienced during the activity. At least, not in the narrow sense of physical pain telling you not to touch a hot stove, for instance. This is why this is not a masochistic philosophy.
To be blunt: instead of recoiling from pain, lean into it. Accept it. Think about how hard you can make yourself, and the cost/benefit for basic decisions in your life will be transformed in ways that I can hardly describe. If you were born in an era that wasn't so comfy, or you were born into unfortunate circumstances that made your childhood difficult, you already know these things by heart. But if your life thus far has been comfy, it might be time to experience something else.

Greetings Gift Of Games, It is With Humble Words and a Democratic Heart That I Seek Assistance with Spreading Democracy to the Bugs Bots and Sony.
What is Helldivers 2? HELLDIVERS™ 2 is a 3rd person squad-based shooter that sees the elite forces of the Helldivers battling to win an intergalactic struggle to rid the galaxy of the rising alien threats. From a 3rd person perspective, players use a variety of weapons (pistols, machine guns, flamethrowers) and stratagems (turrets, airstrikes, etc.) to shoot and kill the alien threats. Players can also aim down the sights for a more accurate 1st person camera view. Combat is accompanied by frequent sprays of blood and dismemberment as players exterminate the alien forces or players and squad mates are hit by environmental explosions or friendly fire. Enemy encampments and battlefield environments depict bloodstains and dismembered corpses.
Why Do I Want This Game? One Of The Best Movies I got to Watch with My Grandfather Was Starship Troopers and This Game has Fully Encapsulated what i Desired in a Game about it and The Community around it Despite it's hiccups has Inspired me in ways you cannot imagine, The Fact a single Community is able to Fight back against a Corporation and win is a true Inspiration in what Democracy Truly is About and I desire nothing more than to join in with the Fight to further our cause to spread Democracy and Freedom to the Gaming World.
Should I Receive this Game I Shall devote All My Break Time from This Democratic Work Im doing to Further the Democratic cause and Fully Master the Art of Friendly fire and Military havoc, I Wish You The Best and I Hope to See You all On The Battle Field
Steam Game link: https://store.steampowered.com/app/553850/HELLDIVERS_2/
Steam Profile Link: https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561198071603821/

Hi great people of socialworkcanada
I've posted this about a couple of months ago - as of today (May 13th 2024), I got accepted to both UBC and UVic BSW, which are also the only two BSW programs I've applied to!
https://www.reddit.com/socialworkcanada/comments/1ac35vu/ubc_or_uvic_social_work_for_bsw/
My approach to the supplement forms for both schools:
UVic BSW - As for the UVic personal statement, I mostly focused on speaking about my heart to advocate for equity, and not necessarily about intersectionality. Though I still indirectly said something about my social position (saying I am a heterosexual cis-male, healthy, etc) based on a very confidential case where I assisted someone experiencing a crisis and needed immediate assistance for their safety.
As for the work/volunteer experience portion, I kind of discussed how my first social service experience led to B, then C, which eventually helped me perform better at D, blablabla... just like that. Like, for instance, at my practicum the Senior Caseworker taught me how to conduct casework with each client and I've explained how that casework experience later helped me at my actual paid social service job later on which was actually true.
UBC BSW - As for the UBC personal statement, I narrated my personal stories of being an immigrant who came to Canada (Victoria BC originally) as a Grade 8 student without family or family friends, etc and how that led to wanting to help people as a Social Worker. I did talk about my strengths which are immigrant experiences, compassion and cultural sensitivity and on the other hand, as for my limitations, I had to think from an intersectionality perspective and discussed on how my privileges as a young healthy man might be a barrier to understand people who are socially disadvantaged than I am.
As for the work/volunteer experience portion, I did focus more on the combined 500+ hour volunteer and practicum experience over my 6000+ work experience since the volunteer experience portion seemed to be more detailed than work experience with UBC's. I still kind of followed the same format as I did with my UVic work/volunteer experience portion. However, I referred to my job description in my job offer to write about my work experience in the UBC application.
Something to note:
Please keep in mind that I was probably quite advantaged in my application compared to some other BSW applicants due to the fact that I had lots of worked/volunteepracticum experience of total 6500+ hours and that I am a racial minority, also a 1st generation immigrant from overseas who moved to Canada and has lived in 3 different Canadian cities (Victoria, Toronto and Vancouver) by himself since the age of 14. Average GPA in the last 10 1st and 2nd year university courses including the 2nd year Intro Social Work courses were probably at least 3.60/4.33 ish.
If you're looking to apply to these schools in the next years, I hope this might be helpful in the slightest with your supplementary applications.

TW: mentions of suicide, self harm, brief mentions of physical, mental and child abuse along with a few other things that might trigger people.
I, (13-15 female) have a small group of friends. (All around 13-15, mainly female) But there has been some major drama in our friend group and I need advice on what to do.
I've had this friend who we'll call Sam. Sam and I have know each other since we were around 6 yrs old. We met in YeaPrimary 2. (For all the people not from the UK, that would be 1st grade)
We have known each other from then all the way until now. But this is when the drama starts.
For context, My group of friends has 4 people in it. (Including me) and one of these friends, who I'll call Rich, wanted to meet sam. But since Rich lives at least 4 hours away from us, I decided to set up an online game for us to play and for Sam and Rich to get to know each other and ask each other questions.
Sometime into the game I get a private message from Sam.
That's when Sam told me she had a crush on Rich. (We were less then 10 minutes into the game aka less then 10 minutes knowing each other) And she asked if she should tell him. I was (mostly) happy for my friend as she hasnt dated for a few years and told her to shoot her shot. And turns out, Rich liked Sam back. So they started dating.
BTW, Sam had just ghosted someone she dated online and did role-plays with, a few days before this happened. (Keep this in mind)
So some background, our entire group of friends play online role-playing games (In a private server) since we all like being able to make role-plays and storylines, except Sam. (She can be really picky)
This is how Sam and Rich basically went on dates. They also invited me to join them sometimes so they had someone else to play the "extra characters" in their role-plays. Their role-plays mostly consisted of guy x guy, mafia bosses and the typical cringe gacha storylines from 2018. I hated the 'maifa guy buys a slave' type tropes they did but I did it with them anyway because Sam always ended up getting mad and ignoring me if I said no or suggested something different.
This whole role-playing thing went on for a few months. That's when I saw Sam online with Mike. (Mike is the name of the person Sam dated online before Rich, I was friends with Mike and still was at the time despite their break up) I decided to join them and see what they were doing on a server together. (Sam had told me and Rich several times that she hated Mike and she always said he was a "alpha bad boy wannbe")
Once I joined I looked in the chat I saw a bunch of messages like Kisses softly (From Mike) and "You're sexy~" (From Sam) I was extremely confused and decided to ask Sam about this later when she wasn't on the server. She said something along the lines of "I was joking around, I never actually broke up with Mike 🤣".
So I was extremely confused and asked Rich if he knew about this.
That's where it all went to shit afterwards. (Don't worry, it gets worse)
To give a short rundown since this post is already long, Sam was cheating on Mike with Rich while also cheating on Rich with Mike as they both though that Sam dated them and had blocked the other person. When Rich 1st confronted her she said they were in a polyamous relationship. (They were not) This kept happening until eventually Mike blocked everyone (Except me) and really didn't talk to any of us. (Or so I thought.)
I always thought that Rich and Sam shouldn't be dating but I stayed out of it because Sam is the only friend I can really talk to and hang out with, without feeling anxious.
Then I found out that Sam was cheating on Rich AGAIN with a girl from her class called Jaime. Then she cheated AGAIN with a girl from my class who I'll call Autumn.
So not only did Sam cheat on Rich with 3 different people. She did it SEVERAL TIMES WITH THOSE PEOPLE.
I eventually distanced myself from the group as a whole. (I also was in hospital which helped me to ignore all of the drama as I was recovering from surgery)
That's when I found a message in the group chat. (The group chat had me, Sam, Jaime and one of Sam's friends in it as well) The message said "Imagine if Rich knew about you dating me and Autumn 🤣💀" from Jaime.
I told Rich literally everything including screenshots and evidence I had. He didn't believe me until he asked Sam which to that she laughed about it and told him that her adhd made her do bad things. Rich then went into a major depressive episode and he wouldn't respond at all to anyone.
Rich even cut himself and attempted suicide. (He has home issues and several mental illnesses, which Sam knew of) Thankfully he survived.
But here's the thing, Sam and Rich GOT BACK TOGETHER AFTER WHAT HAPPENED.
I was absolutely fucking horrified by this as it seemed to be a severely toxic and maybe even abusive relationship (Psychologically) since Rich had Bipolar and Sam used to blame him for acting weird and blamed him for her cheating.
Here's where I think I became the asshole.
I made a throwaway account and took screenshots of everything and sent them to Jaime, Autumn, Rich, our group of friends and basically everyone who knew of the drama. Which included most of the school. (And even random people from other school that knew some of the gossip)
Then it got revealed that Sam had ONLINE SEX WITH MIKE AND RICH WHILE SAM WAS DATING BOTH OF THEM AND AFTER MIKE SUPPOSEDLY BLOCKED HER!!
And then it turns out that Sam, who is bisexual, called Richs gay BFF( I'll call him Matt) a gay bastard and the F-slur. TWICE.
Ans then it turns out, after Sam had cheated on Rich the first or second time, Rich started DATING MATT AND THEY ONLY BROKE UP BECAUSE RICH FELT GUILTY.
Then Sam and Rich got into a massive fight which lead to Rich attempting suicide again. Sam said, and i quote, "womp womp🙄" when told about Richs second sucide attempt and also then Rich told her that his cat had died.
They then broke up and he blocked her on everything.
I felt horrible. I felt like I shouldn't of told everyone what Sam did and I shouldn't of put myself into their relationship..
I felt really depressed and guilty and I thought (and still do) that it was all my fault..
I honestly think I'm the asshole and I shouldn't of done anything considering I don't have any dating experience at all and I don't have any of the disorders Sam or Rich has...
But I've always been told to get a second opinion on everything so I wanted to ask Reddit. (Not the most logical way to do it but I'm desperate af)
So Reddit, AITAH?
I'm sorry if the spelling or wording is off, I'm writing this at 3:13 am and I have school at 8:30. But I am desperate to hear someone else's opinion on this as I feel i am going insane. I'll try and answer any questions as best as I can.
(Ps. Sam has dyslexia and supposedly has adhd as well which she uses as an excuse for why she cheated and blamed Rich. She also used the excuse that her home life is terrible. Which it is. Rich has autism, adhd, bipolar, lack of awareness and is physically and metally abused by his parents. And before I forget, my mother was walking home from work one night and saw Sam HITTING her MOTHER with a stick and laughing about it)
I will honestly appreciate ANY help or opinion given on my situation..

(SKIP TO QUESTIONS IF YOU WANT)
So I'm a second year CS student in college, and I'm trying to figure out what my best route is professionally, both short term and long. I'm currently on the tail end of a gap year, as my last semester did not go well and I needed to take some time to get myself together in a number of ways before giving it another shot. I've been working a few low-wage jobs and doing a bit of volunteering in this down time to make a bit of money and keep myself busy, but now I'm seriously considering what would be the best series of events or accomplishments to land the good-paying job I'm after in the field in a few years time.
I picked CS as my major because out of all my interests and things I'd dabbled in in grade school (art, music, photography, video editing, writing, etc.), this seemed like the best choice for a future career. For a bit more background information, it's worth noting I never did any paid work as a teenager, and that up through the end of high school, I was mostly just used to following the straight line school laid out for me and rarely trying new things (that I could put on a resume anytime) beyond that on my on time.
Now here I am three years later, and really kicking myself in the rear over that. I could have been working from the time I was 16, or even 13 (depending on the store), and doing stuff and learning skills outside of school to groom myself for future financial success from an early age. Now I'm in my early twenties, with few marketable skills, and years of lost time to make up for.
But alas, it's not too late! I just one want to make sure that whatever my next move is is the right one. One of the reasons I resisted getting a minimum wage job for so long was because I felt like they were a road to nowhere, when in reality, had I started years earlier, I could be well above that by now. Well, it's never too late to do the right thing or change course, and that's what I want your help trying to figure out now. Any advice is greatly appreciated, and at the moment, I really don't have anyone else knowledgeable on the subject to turn to.
(SKIP HERE IF YOU DON'T WANNA READ THE BACKGROUND STUFF)
What I'm wondering is...
-How much does having that relevant bachelor's degree matter compared to not having it? From what I've seen, it seems like that alone opens up a world of possibilities.
-"One to two years as a _ required™" (to be able to apply for this job)-Those words haunt my nightmares. I've seen them, you've seen them, and the problem is obvious. When 80%+ of entry level jobs have that cursed stipulation, how are you supposed to get that one to two years anywhere? Well, you tell me. Someone has to have cracked it.
-What certifications can help my case? Or which would be most worth the effort? A Plus is the main one I've heard of, but what impact could having one for something like computer basics or Microsoft Office make?
-What do employers care about the most? Certifications? Past experience? A degree?
-What difference could a masters/grad school make? While I haven't applied myself much so far in college, I'm working hard to change that. And when I go back, I'm hoping to get into the honors program, and after that and a successful graduation-maybe, just maybe, by some miracle-punch a ticket to MIT (yeah, laugh it up). Now, if I did somehow pull that off, what doors could that open to me?
-Best programming language to know, and the best place to learn it (and prove I can use it too)? If I can't walk the walk, I'm not gonna get anywhere. I've had friends who have been proficient in things like Python, HTML, or Java since high school. If I wanna buckle down and go nuts with CodeAcademy or CompTIA or something, where would my time best be spent?

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

Job Ad: Seeking English Teacher to start work July 29 at Daegu English Village in Chilgok.

Reason for Posting: We have a very busy two weeks this summer at the English Village and so we are hiring five (5) teachers to work for two weeks on a temporary basis. I’m the academic director here at DGEV. I have been here for two years and really enjoy working here.
Visa Requirements: Ideally we are looking for F-visas - but I believe some E-visas can qualify if they get permission from their current employer.
Position Covered by Labor Standards Act (LSA): are there more than 5 full time employees? yes.
Salary: ₩29,000 per class with a minimum of ₩1,566,000 for two weeks.
Training: ₩29,000 per class (12 hours provided the week of July 22 to July 26.
Grade level: elementary and middle school
Class length: 45 minute classes for elementary/50 minutes for middle school.
Class hours: how many total classes per week/month: minimum 27 classes per week.
Working Hours: 9:00am to 5:00pm.
Break Time: 12pm to 1pm is lunch. There are also 10-15 minute breaks between classes depending on the level of student.
Prep Time: yes. If the teacher is available, teachers can come for paid prep/training the week before. 12 hours of training/prep time available. We provide teaching materials (powerpoints and workbooks and supplies).
Weekend Work: no
Overtime Pay: in accordance with LSA
Vacation Time: There is no vacation time allotted for this two week period.
Red Days: do you get them off? Yes - but it is not applicable in this scenario.
Sick Leave: no. This is a temporary position (but we are hiring full time as well)
Flight Allowance: in country applicants only for temporary (but full time can be out of country)
Pension/Insurance Coverage: for full time - yes, for temporary - no
Severance: for full time - yes, for temporary - no
Housing: Yes. We provide a dorm and three meals a day if the teacher wants it.
Other: open section for extra benefits: As mentioned above, we offer a dorm, meals are provided free of charge in the cafeteria (breakfast, lunch, and dinner) - and there is a shuttle bus service into town.
About the Workplace: English camp. We offer primarily situational based learning where students practice sentences and vocabulary words in fake environments - ie grocery store, bank, department store, post office, etc.
Opinion of Workplace: I have been working here for two years. I started out as a teacher and now I am the Academic Director. It is fun because we see new kids all the time and can practice teaching the same subjects over and over again.
Contact Info: Here’s my email: [Dylan.campbell.dgev@gmail.com](mailto:Dylan.campbell.dgev@gmail.com)
By using this template, you acknowledge that you have read the sample post, are aware that your ad will be mirror posted to , and understand that the information included in your post is publicly available and subject to criticism from the community.Job Ad: Seeking English Teacher to start work July 29 at Daegu English Village in Chilgok.
Reason for Posting: We have a very busy two weeks this summer at the English Village and so we are hiring five (5) teachers to work for two weeks on a temporary basis. I’m the academic director here at DGEV. I have been here for two years and really enjoy working here.
Visa Requirements: Ideally we are looking for F-visas - but I believe some E-visas can qualify if they get permission from their current employer.
Position Covered by Labor Standards Act (LSA): are there more than 5 full time employees? yes.
Salary: ₩29,000 per class with a minimum of ₩1,566,000 for two weeks
Training: ₩29,000 per class (12 hours provided the week of July 22 to July 26
Grade level: elementary and middle school
Class length: 45 minute classes for elementary/50 minutes for middle school.
Class hours: how many total classes per week/month: minimum 27 classes per week.
Working Hours: 9:00am to 5:00pm.
Break Time: 12pm to 1pm is lunch. There are also 10-15 minute breaks between classes depending on the level of student.
Prep Time: yes. If the teacher is available, teachers can come for paid prep/training the week before. 12 hours of training/prep time available. We provide teaching materials (powerpoints and workbooks and supplies).
Weekend Work: no
Overtime Pay: in accordance with LSA
Vacation Time: There is no vacation time allotted for this two week period.
Red Days: do you get them off? Yes - but it is not applicable in this scenario.
Sick Leave: no. This is a temporary position (but we are hiring full time as well)
Flight Allowance: in country applicants only for temporary (but full time can be out of country)
Pension/Insurance Coverage: for full time - yes, for temporary - no
Severance: for full time - yes, for temporary - no
Housing: Yes. We provide a dorm and three meals a day if the teacher wants it.
Other: open section for extra benefits: As mentioned above, we offer a dorm, meals are provided free of charge in the cafeteria (breakfast, lunch, and dinner) - and there is a shuttle bus service into town.
About the Workplace: English camp. We offer primarily situational based learning where students practice sentences and vocabulary words in fake environments - ie grocery store, bank, department store, post office, etc.
Opinion of Workplace: I have been working here for two years. I started out as a teacher and now I am the Academic Director. It is fun because we see new kids all the time and can practice teaching the same subjects over and over again. There are 20+ English teachers, so we have a good group of folks to work with.

Trigger warning: sexual abuse
Throwaway.
I have never spoken of this to another human being after almost 40 years. Memories of this has resurfaced lately, and after watching Baby Reindeer with my wife (with the abuse confession scene in particular), I wanted to tell her so badly but lacked the nerve. So here I am.
When I was in 1st grade, so as a 6 years old boy, I got in trouble. The teacher called my parents in, a serious talk was had, and I was in deep shit. I don't remember what my punishment was, but I do remember why I got in trouble.
I had a friend named Tim the same age as me. Our classroom had bathrooms attached to the room. For some reason that I don't remember, I had convinced Tim to sneak off to the bathroom with me during class. I do not know how we evaded the teacher, but it became a regular thing. It was a fun way to sneak out of classwork and play.
At some point, we began to explore each others' bodies, including genitals. We attempted to insert our penises into each other's butt. I do not know why we decided to do this, but I always had the feeling that it was my idea.
We finally got caught. I distinctly remember trying to sneak to the bathroom cartoon style when the teacher spotted me. She must have put the pieces together later, because my parents got the call that afternoon and we all went to the school. Turns out that Tim had confessed upon being questioned and said that it was all my idea (which it very well may have been).
Tim and I were not allowed to be friends after that, and very strict rules about bathroom use were implemented.
I don't recall remembering what happened until I was a teenager, and ever since I've felt a crushing guilt. It also led to depression and a lot of negative feelings about sex, which made my teenage and early 20s years rough. I thought that I was a horrible person to have talked my friend into that, or maybe that I was gay (which I am not). Eventually, the thought occurred to me that I may have been abused and was trying to replicate that, but I have no memory of being abused.
I have wanted to ask my parents what they remember about that event, but I don't want to put them through reliving that. I've put them through enough since then.
I don't know what to feel. I just wanted to tell someone, and I don't have the courage to tell someone in person. Thank you and I'm sorry.

SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS NUMEROLOGY DECODE

Since we all know exactly who and what Spongebob is, I am going to do a Numerology decode.
When it comes to Numerology, there are many different things you can look into. I am going to look into the letters, patterns, and Numerology personality numbers.
SPONGEBOB has a personality #6. 6 is the number of compassion, work ethic, criticism, cleanliness, and productivity. In the funny show, we see that Spongebob is a workaholic. He has a 5 destiny number which shapes who you are overall. 5 is connected to youthfulness which explains the silliness of the Spongebob character. He is always laughing and doing things funny. The 5 energy indicates this. 5 also points to people, places, and things that are unique. He has an 8 soul urge which explains his undying ambition and creativity.
We can see that SPONGEBOB has 2 O's which has the numeric energy of 15 and numeric value of 6. 15 is the creative use of energy for productivity. Again, 6 is the number of routine, work ethic and productivity goes with this. This energy is not only his personality number, but also it is within his name. It's really in him.
SPONGEBOB HAS DOUBLE NUMERIC VALUES IN HIS NAME WHICH ARE, 7,6,5, AND 2. This explains why he is able to show his emotions and have moments of sensitivity(2). Very compassionate(2) but also childish and silly(5) and able to come up with plans that work(7). Since these #s has double influence, we must considered what they equal. 7 twice equals 14/5 which shows how he is responsible and can make work fun even though it is a duty(6). 6 twice equals 12/3 which shows his social skills, life, and creativity. Another youthful energy as well. 5 twice equals 10/1 which points to his bravery and capability to take action. 2 twice equals 4 which is home,family,responsibility, and structure on the home front and he would make everyone feel comfortable for the most part.
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​
​

TW: detailed SA
To preface this, I was manipulated and abused by a boy when I was 13. During this time my mom abandoned me with my dad and I was in an extremely vulnerable position emotionally. I had just left foster care as well and had really never experienced real love or attention.
That was until I met a boy in my grade(7th grade), who immediately started complimenting me and approaching me sexually. He would send me other girls nudes, who were also our age, saying it was normal to send nudes even though I didn't want to. He endlessly pressured me into sending nudes by saying he was going to hurt himself or even kill himself. He pressured me into dating him and I ended up "dating" him for the next 9 months. On our first date he immediately got me away from my mom and kissed me and grabbed my chest and immediately starting putting his hand down my underwear. I pushed him off of me and my mom immediately turned the corner to find us. She ended up essentially dropping off the face of the earth less than a week later.
After this "date," we continued to text and he wanted to know when I'd be ready for sex. He wanted me to sext with him and I physically couldn't I was just 13 and too awkward to. He'd get extremely mad and end up sexting other girls just to send me screenshots of their messages and nudes. For some reason I thought this was normal. I told him I wouldn't feel ready for sex until I was at least 14, but a month into dating he came over to my house with 2 of our friends. Our 2 friends went upstairs and we stayed in my room, he forced himself onto me after we had been kissing. He pulled down my pants and I said no and he begun raping me I cried and said no and that it hurt but he still continued. When he finished, he had blood on his hands which he wiped off and we went upstairs to be with our friends. I told him it wasnt normal and it hurt and there was blood on his hands but he showed me a porn of how virgins usually bleed so I thought it was normal.
I continued dating him, I thought this whole thing was normal so we had more sex and do sexual things. I went on a trip with him and his family a few months later even and while there he strangled me. I was in the middle of rambling about some show I was interested in and he wrapped both hands around my neck and squeezed so hard. I just looked into his eyes and gasped and he had no emotion on his face at all. He ended up breaking up with me a few months later blaming my poor mental health.
Months after that I started piecing together that what happened wasn't normal. I would look at the spot on the ground where it happened in my room and get flashbacks. Even though we had "broken up" we were still texting and I told him that I didnt want what had happened that day. I also took a sex ed class after it had happened and realized technically it had been rape. I told him my concerns and he admitted that what had happened wasn't right. I dont remember what happened to make me so angry at him that I went to our school counselors and reported him, but he did something to aggravate me? There was a police investigation but I dropped charges due to already having to go to court like every month for the past year for foster care complications and getting a restraining order on my mom. He ended up moving schools soon after and I moved 100 miles away the following year.
Fast forward, I've been dating my boyfriend for almost a year and we live together. We're both broke students but we really love each other. He was in a car accident last week that totaled his car, he was physically fine but taken away by an ambulance and in the hospital for the rest of the day. The doctors were worried there might be spine or head trauma/damage and I've never been so worried in my life. He ended up fine but I realized that I really want to spend a good portion of my life with this man, possibly even have kids. He's my only family really and he's amazing, imagining him injured or worse made me lose my mind at the hospital.
He knows a lot about my trauma, my mom ended up dying so he's comforted me through that as well as listening to all the horrible things I've experienced. I've mentioned there's one thing I can't talk about which is this. I physically cannot bring any of this up to him and I can't even say the word rape out loud. He's assured me I can tell him whenever I feel ready but I don't know how to admit these things unless he asks me very specific questions about it which obviously I cant expect.
He's very gentle with me but sometimes I feel myself disassociated during sex and get flashbacks to what happened. I just want him to understand what happened but I don't even know how to begin the conversation.
If anyone has advice on how I bring this up to him it would be very appreciated.

SOME BACKGROUND:
I'm going to be upfront; the one thing truly stopping me from saying I am autistic with full certainty is my lack of an official diagnosis, despite having the knowledge that one does not need to be diagnosed to be autistic. I'm almost entirely certain after about 8 or so years of consideration. I'm attempting to seek a diagnosis not only for personal validation though, but also to have something concrete to give to my parents. For now, I consider myself self-diagnosed, though I've given my psychiatrist a 20 page document detailing why I believe I would benefit from a proper evaluation as well as all of the experiences and the collection of traits I have that I attribute to being autistic.
For some background: I am 20 and AFAB, transmasc but presenting as female due to not being out of the closet. I am Vietnamese and part of the first generation in my family to be born in America. My parents and grandparents were born and raised in Vietnam, and thus were raised with a very different culture surrounding things such as mental health and disability compared to the information I've had access to growing up in the US. I still live with my parents and am struggling with already diagnosed mental health issues including major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, unspecified ADHD, and an unspecified trauma disorder. Because of the language and cultural barrier, my parents are really only aware of the depression in name, and the ADHD they understand even less. They are trying their best, though my dad hasn't looked at any of the resources I've sent him about ADHD or autism in my attempts to help him understand better.
On my dad in particular: he has always been the kind to believe in toughing things out and simply trying harder. Over the years he has grown to be more understanding, especially as my mental health issues grew to degrees that became harder to hide, but we have a history in terms of what I'm about to describe re: my very recent meltdown.
WHAT HAPPENED:
The day before Mother's Day, my dad sprung up on me without warning that me and my younger brother were going over to our paternal grandparents' house to wish our grandmother a happy Mother's Day. This immediately upset me not because I didn't want to go, but because I hadn't had the time to mentally prepare myself for the shift in my routine—I had only done so for the actual date of Mother's Day. I've asked my family before that I am told ahead of time when plans to go out of the house where I'm involved are made, preferably at least a day beforehand. Unfortunately, my family is comprised of very spontaneous people who tend to make plans on the fly.
I made it clear I was fairly upset about not being told ahead of time to my mother, who thanked me when I got up to get ready to go. Something about being thanked for this was the final nail in the coffin for the upset that was gripping me. I think it was the idea that she knew full well that I was attempting to set aside my own comforts(? for lack of a better term) for the sake of family normality; something that I've had to do often.
I had a quiet breakdown in the bathroom while I washed myself, which came with the annoyance of how snotty tears would make you. Very annoying when bowing your head to wash your hair. I've had practice locking myself in the bathroom to have my breakdowns in a private place where I couldn't be walked in on and then questioned, because I always knew that I could never explain why I was having such a disproportionate reaction, especially given the cultural barrier. It would all seem stupid, immature, selfish, spoiled, and an overreaction. My plan was to cry it out in the shower and come back out after composing myself so we could leave. Tried and true method. I bit the back of my hands—to stifle my crying, to give myself a physical sensation to ground myself with, some combination of those two. It helped only a little bit.
As it turns out, there was a lot of baggage behind this upset outside of just this one incident. There is a very long-running pattern in which I must sacrifice my comfort or suck up my complaints in order to appease whatever my parents have decided to do, or whatever I was expected to do.
Sometimes it was their obsession with taking billions of family pictures—I vividly recall one instance where I was horribly upset about having to wear a dress, especially for the sole sake of driving to some flower field just to take pretty family pictures of which we have thousands. I was much younger at the time, maybe 14, and was expressing my upset in the only somewhat acceptable way I could, i.e. being incredibly grumpy. Eventually my dad blew up at me for being spoiled and various other things while I cried in the back of the car, my mother and younger brother dead silent. He drove to cool off. We did not talk about it ever again afterward.
Sometimes it was school-related. When I was around 11, I was struggling to complete an assignment for school for reasons I couldn't articulate, and honestly still can't. It was simple, and it was a drawing assignment, and I absolutely adored traditional art. But I was simply Stuck on some part, and was working myself into an anxious mess up until midnight. I was terrified of getting bad grades, of not meeting the expectations of people I considered authority figures, such as teachers. So much so that I wanted to stay home. And knowing I had no "proper" excuse, I tried to use a different one when I asked to stay home for that one day: menstrual cramps. I was told to see how I was doing in the morning.
In the morning I still said I wished to stay home from school due to cramps. After a lot of deliberation with my mother, she relented and allowed me to stay home. Despite the fact that I had gotten what I wanted, I was already horribly upset. Looking back on it, I think it was the fact that I had to fight so hard to stay home for just one day. It was upsetting that my visible upset wasn't enough. It was upsetting that they weren't just getting it.
I had a breakdown in the bathroom (there's a trend here as you can see) and slammed my arm against the heater in there so many times that I ended up with horrible bruising on the back of my arm the days after. My family members knocked on the door because people needed to get ready, and that only made me more upset—couldn't they hear me crying? Didn't they care? When I finally came out and crawled up into the upper bunk, my dad came in and started yelling at me.
Your average stuff, things like, "If I had a stomachache I wouldn't just be able to not go to work." I blocked a lot of it out of my memory, but most of the time I was under the covers crying while he engaged in a one-sided shouting match with me. Eventually my mother came in and gently asked me to stop crying, and to stop making my father mad.
While these two incidents and the others like them happened years ago, they were defining moments in my life and inform how I handle conflict (as in: I don't) and how I go about expressing my struggles (as in: rarely, and often with great shame). Standing in the shower and being unable to not think about these things, I spiraled further. It felt like I was being swallowed by my emotions. I don't know if angry or sad or upset really capture what I was feeling properly. My thoughts were like a car with its brakes cut, going at breakneck speeds on the highway.
By the time I was done with my shower I still wasn't composed. As it turns out, when you abuse a coping mechanism that relies on repression as long as I did, it stops working at some point. There was just too much to try and hide. More hand biting happened along with some hitting my head with my fists. So I sat in my room, and eventually my mom came in and saw my face. Unsurprisingly she didn't acknowledge the fact that I had clearly been crying—instead, with a soft voice, like she was coaxing a small child into doing something vaguely unpleasant, she told me, "Come on, let's go." And I'm sure that's how she was seeing me at that point. An oppositional, defiant child. I struggle not to see myself in that way, and still have been trying to unpack how much shame I feel when things like this happen.
My crying started up again because my tear ducts really don't like listening to me, and I asked somewhat incredulously, "You're still going to make me go?" In retrospect, it probably sounded bratty. Here I was, 20 years old, complaining about being "made" to go somewhere.
It took maybe a couple of seconds for my mom to decide to just let me stay home instead.
Once everyone was out, I had the loudest cry I'd ever experienced in my life. I'd never had the opportunity to, and so it just kind of... came out once the house was silent. I think I might've wailed. And then I promptly shut the hell up once I heard my [maternal] grandmother coming back upstairs. She passed by my room, asked why I didn't go (not noticing the state of my face, maybe due to eyesight). I gave a non-answer and she made some exasperated remark that I don't know how to translate into English. It nearly set me off again, knowing how inconvenient I was, how tired they all were of me and my antics.
I had a headache for the next 20 or so hours, which I knew would happen based on past experiences with breakdowns as emotionally taxing as this one. I'd also predicted during the whole thing that the next day I would be pretty nonfunctional, which I was unfortunately also right about. Whenever these things happen it throws my entire week off. It's upsettingly debilitating. Two days later, I'm somewhat functional, but the whole thing disrupted my... everything. I have an exam that I had planned to study for during the days I was busy trying to get myself back together emotionally. The headache actually came back, and is sitting with me nicely while I type this. Hey there.
The day immediately after, Mother's Day: I was pretty fearful the entire time. Mostly of what my dad was going to do. Best case scenario, he'd come into my room and we could have an open dialogue and communicate about what happened. Worst case scenario, he'd regress and revert back to how he'd been like years ago, screaming at me for my incompetence, my selfishness, my refusal to cooperate with the smallest things despite all our family does for me. After a little bit I had to add on a third possibility: that he would simply go about like nothing happened, which he has also done before. Generally though, I wasn't optimistic about my chances here. I learned through this that I absolutely don't trust him to handle my larger, more intrusive, more ugly issues with grace.
He's been ignoring my existence since my little meltdown. No hellos, good mornings, not even looking at me. He's talking with everyone else as normal. I've been keeping my head down and can really only assume that he's angry with me as I'd expected and based on what I know about him/understand in terms of his personality through prior experience.
While I could give benefit of the doubt and say he may be attempting to give me space, he's the kind of person who you can tell when he's angry. It's something we share. And it's truly more likely that he's upset about me throwing what looked to him like a shitfit over something small and inconsequential, refusing to do something as simple as a visit to make his mothemy paternal grandmother to give Mother's Day gifts. And I didn't get my propensity for avoiding communication and unpleasant conversations at all costs from nowhere, so. Here we are.
I still don't really know if what I had was an autistic meltdown or a "standard" emotional breakdown, whatever that even looks like. I think I'm used to framing my behaviors with neurotypical language, and often language that isn't too kind to myself. So on top of venting a bit, I also wanted to get an outside perspective, and see whether my breakdown sounded similar to any other autistic peoples' experiences with meltdowns.
If there's any advice out there to give in terms of my relationship with my dad, that would also be appreciated. I love my family, but it all hurts, and this has also made me realize that I may have a lot more trauma to unpack surrounding my family than I've acknowledged.
I've been considering getting a physical copy of Sincerely, Your Autistic Child to annotate and highlight certain sections, putting sticky tabs on chapters I find relevant, and providing definitions for words I know he hasn't come across before, to give to him and ask him to at least attempt to read those bits. The more bitter and angry part of me, the part that are tired of having to be the one to accommodate for everything interpersonally, just wants to go up to him and tell him the reason I never go to him when I'm upset is because I'm scared. To tell him exactly what all those times he yelled at me did to my ability to self-advocate, to tell him what all those times my emotions and emotional well being were devalued did to my self-esteem. That the "interpersonally submissive" phrase from my 40 page psych report has roots in the way he raised me entirely on obedience, and how I am still learning that I am allowed to say no in all sorts of contexts. Maybe I can do both of these things, and probably when he isn't pretending I don't exist, and when I feel less like I'll fall to bits the moment I open my mouth in his direction. I'll likely try and avoid using language that outright blames him for the sake of maintaining a good relationship whenever the talk comes around.
I'm still trying to accept the fact that I might need more support than I allowed myself to think. I only recently found out that truly voicing that I'm having academic trouble is something that brings me so much shame that tears spring up in my eyes—going to the Disability Support Services office on my campus made me far more emotional and nervous than I'd expected. With how I'm navigating my own self-acceptance, I don't know how I'm going to get my family to accept that I'm not the "normal" child I know they still wished I was.

I know, very popular language to learn for proficiency, but I have a few questions regarding the Spanish proficiency exam if anyone can answer, please!

1. Did you feel that you had a good grasp of speaking Spanish before the exam, like you can speak freely without much trouble?
   
2. If you started learning Spanish at GTown, how many years of Spanish did you take before you felt comfortable taking the exam?
   
3. Do you need extensive vocabulary for the exam in order to pass (using phrases or words that relate to politics, cultural aspects, economy, etc.) or could you survive the exam with a standard vocabulary?
   
4. Did your test proctors ask difficult questions during the exam, were they strict on their grading or made sure you knew enough to pass the exam?
   

Thanks for reading and hope that anyone can answer if possible! :D

Hi everyone! Thought I'd share my 4 tips for students writing their college essays this year. Hope they help!
1) Stop writing your college essay and start playing with it.
One of the main reasons students struggle with their personal statement is because it involves an approach counterintuitive to what schools and society teach. There's no formula to follow, no test to pass; just a story to tell, and that can be quite daunting for some. That is why, when it comes to the college essay, it's imperative to get your mind out of the classroom and into a playground—where all the magic happens.
Start by forgetting what colleges "want" to hear, and focus instead on what you want to say. Remember, this is the one part of your application where you aren't a grade, score, or checkmark but a human being. So act like one! Don't treat the college essay as an assignment you have to do but rather as an experience you get to have. After all, it's a privilege to have the opportunity to share our story with others. The more freedom and joy you have while sharing yours, the better the finished product will be. Whether it's da Vinci's Mona Lisa or Michael Jordan's legendary basketball career, every great masterpiece begins with a person simply having fun.
2) If you want to find treasure, dig.
If there's anything I've learned from years of helping countless students write their college essays, it's that every single person on earth has a story worth telling. No matter how plain or boring you think your life may be, I promise that there is a gem inside you waiting to be unearthed. However, like all treasure, you have to dig for it, so embrace the mess and stay patient. You'll see that as soon as you combine curiosity with persistence, all the right doors will begin to open.
On that note, I highly recommend some form of journaling. Having a safe, non-judgmental place to let out your thoughts and emotions is essential, as expression and discovery always go hand-in-hand. In general, you should take the time to get to know yourself a little better; after all, that's who you are writing about.
3) It's ALL in the presentation.
You've probably been warned to avoid sob stories and cliches, but what ultimately matters more than the subject matter is the context in which you use it. Contrary to popular belief, there is not a single "generic" topic that is off-limits so long as you talk about it in a non-generic way. In other words, it's not so much about what you say but how you say it. Yes, the number of themes available to you is ultimately limited, but the ways of packaging them are endless.
4) The college essay isn't about impressing your readers; it's about connecting with them.
How do you connect with an audience? First and foremost, you let go of the need for their approval—an irony, I know, considering your entire goal is to get accepted into college. However, think of any piece of music that speaks to your soul. Chances are the artist behind the song doesn't even know who you are, let alone wrote a tune for you. Yet, somehow, hearing that song makes you relate to them in a profound way.Whether it's art or a personal statement, the only way to reach someone's heart is to speak from yours.
Why? Because no matter our differences, we are fundamentally all the same. You will never know who is reading your college essay, but I promise that so long as they are human, they are just like you. So before you aim for a good college essay, aim for an honest one, and never be afraid to let your essence shine. That is how you evoke a powerful and authentic feeling in your reader, and as the late Maya Angelou famously said, a person will never forget how you made them feel.

I (25f) attend a family reunion out of state. It was the 1st time I would see most of my family in 3-4 years and the first time everyone would meet my 2 Month old baby. For the most part every one was eager to hold her and when some asked to hold her we would just ask them to wash their hands, not kiss on the baby, and to stay in the same room as me. I had real bad post partum depression and was nervous to have her out of my sight with anyone who wasn't her dad. To flash forward a few days it was a 3 day long event and not once did my Aunt(62) ask to hold my baby. If fact she almost made it a point to leave a room as soon as I entered it. It is also important to add she spent 90% of her free hot boxing her car and while I use don't have a problem with it (you do you) I really didn't want my new born around her after one of her sessions. My baby was 4 weeks premature and had to have steroids to aid in lung development both before and after birth. I would like to think on the few interactions with her I was pleasant but we do have a history of her blowing up on me (story for another time). On the trip back home my phone starts to blow up with Facebook notifications because she(my aunt) had decided to go live and broadcast that she had always hated me and I was a bitch and a c u next Tuesday... she ranted on and on about how she tried to help my mom raise me right. Which is a bold face lie as she was never really in my life other then for a few family related meet ups. She talked about how i offended her by not letting her hold my baby when all she would have had to done was ask and as long as it wasnt right have one of her sessions i most likely would have. She finished her live saying how my cousins (who she saw less then me) were her favorites all along and she didnt know how she would recover after i ruined the first vacation she was able to take in 15 years.All the comments on her live were in support of her actions and words and since she is a golden child she managed to turn most of her generation of family against me. It's really starting to get to my head so I have to ask for some unbiased options. Am I the asshole?

First year teaching high school, so I’d love some input:
My students started final exams this week. I thought I would be nice and give them a simple reflection essay as their final, since I’m “just an elective class” and I know they’re swamped studying for their other classes. All they had to do was tell me 3 things they learned in my course, and how they would apply those concepts moving forward in life.
The VERY FIRST exam I graded was from a senior, who copied an entire article she found on google onto her paper… keep in mind all chromebooks have been collected by the district, so it wasn’t even a copy and paste, she hand wrote every single sentence, word for word… couldn’t even put in the effort to add her own sentence or switch out higher level words for terms we used in class! Also, at some point she obviously got distracted because she wrote the same sentence 3 times in a row… clearly didn’t proof read before turning in either.
I’m both annoyed at the absolutely laziness, and insulted that she thinks I’m so stupid I wouldn’t notice. My first instinct is to give her a 0 and essentially tell her “Sorry, enjoy summer school and walking the stage late” especially since she has shown this level of laziness the entire semester.
My principal says it’s up to me if I give her a 0 as her exam grade or if I let her retake it. So, seasoned teachers… what would you do?

Hello all, I am a long-time reader. I only recently joined some groups, one being this one, to get some answers. I apologize in advance; this is going to be a long read. Since I was a young child, I can remember the onset being around 8; I have been experiencing nausea, heartburn, vomiting, and overall discomfort in my stomach. I am 24 now, and it has never gone away; I survive by chewing Zofran like Pez. Around 2019, I began experiencing other stomach-related symptoms. They gave me some Prilosec, said I have IBS, and sent me on my way. No change. Although it has been rough to be nauseous all day, every day, I had grown used to living like this. The past year, I decided to try to increase my quality of life and have been seeing doctors for many issues. It was all the same process again; I was prescribed more PPI, and blood work came back normal, and I was told I had IBS. I continued to complain and got a HIDA and Gastric Emptying Study done. The Gastric Emptying Study came back at only 17% retention at 66 minutes, which seemed rapid according to the studies I could read online, but the doctor said she was not testing for RGE, so it was normal. The HIDA scan was done incorrectly, so I need to redo it. I was prescribed Cholesteomyine, which is used to treat Bile Malabsorption and has been helping with the IBS symptoms. However, Gallbladder testing has come back normal, including the original HIDA that was done but needed to be redone. But I am still constantly nauseous. I recently had an endoscopy done, and I was told my esophagus looked normal, my stomach looked normal, but my flap valve was at a hill grade 3. I had never heard of this, so I began researching when I was lucid again. I have to admit I became a bit excited thinking I had found something that may be causing my problems, and that is also treatable! I talked to my GI doctor on Monday, 5/6, and I brought this to her attention. When I brought up what the paperwork said, she said, "I'm gonna be honest, I have never heard of that before." After some Google searching, she explained it to me and said, "Yes, that may be causing your problems." But she weirdly and quickly skipped over it entirely. She began telling me it was probably in my best interest to start re-taking Prozac as some people are "sensitive" and can be hyper-aware of their stomach's inner workings. The paperwork says nothing about having a hiatal hernia, just "flap valve hill grade 3". I got excited thinking I found the reason behind some of my problems, but the Dr. didn't seem to care. Does anybody have any advice? Should I press the issue and insist on more tests? Would I have to do another endoscopy to get a measurement of a possible hiatal hernia, or is the hill grade synonymous with a hiatal hernia? I'm just feeling very disappointed overall. I’m probably missing a lot of context; if you need any clarification, let me know. I'm very new to this, so I'm unsure how to go about it(the online forums, that is, lol).
TL;DR: Constant nausea, lump in the throat feeling, heartburn, frequent vomiting since 8, currently 24. Had endoscopy done, results say "flap valve hill grade 3" no mention of measurement or finding of hiatal hernia specifically. The doctor ignored the findings and told me to take Prozac & follow up in 3 months. Any advice or words of encouragement are more than welcome and appreciated.

Are these 2002 1st edition LOB booster packs searchable or does weighing matter? Was looking at a few hundred per booster pack and was curious - some of them are graded. Super negative EV of course, but would you buy one for chance of getting the holy grail rares?

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Ok, let's begin......
I now 30 yr old man, can say I was "Ackward" in school. My people skills were not the best and i was home schooled till 6th grade. So in school I was very quiet and really didn't have a lot of "good" friends. I really just drifted from group to group for six years. So the summer of my senior year I decided let's go to CAMP !!! The socially awkward nerd was going to spend a week with perfect strangers how much fun could that possibly be ?
Well, it turned out just fine.
I met some good friends who we will call, Sam and Cameron. We had similar interests and even found out we lived 45 minutes apart. After a week at summer camp we went make to life, but not before I was invited over to their annual end of summer bonfire at their house. Now this is where our fun begins.

 Sam and Cameron lived in this small town in the middle of no where a little town. A town of 250 people, two churches an abandoned old high school and long scar the length of town where the train tracks used to run though The town was surrounded by trees and farm ground. Just your typical Midwest town. 

Now Sam and Cameron lived on the edge of town surrounded by trees and the old train tracks and 1 old crackhead. Yes, a crackhead. Who would wander the woods and fields at all hours.
This comes back to the story later.

 Now the day of the party theres 30 people at this party. I went and I really enjoyed myself. Played soccer talked to a girl and didn't feel scared even held a girls hand for the 1st time. 

Now enter Simon and Logan the practical jokers of this friend group. These two ruled the joke world and it was known they couldn't be be bet at jokes. So they decided to go down into woods and scare everyone when Sam says the go word. They left "early" and no one knew better. But then the neighbor was seen in the back of the property. Sam and Cameron give everyone an update to watch out for CH "crackhead" . Turns out it was a kid who had left early but had returned the back way down an old road. Everyone was now in on the "Scare" from S and L.
As we get ready to go down into woods, it hits me, It's the awaking of an evil genius. I tell Sam, "Let me fake a seizure!" He stops dead in his tracks looks at me and in shock says "Do it !!"
So I did ......
We walk down into the woods, the moon is gone, just a bunch of flip phone flashlights and a lantern Sam is leading us with. It's so quiet, everyone is informed I do not have seizure this is a PRANK. The whole time I'm sweating tense, and then
Booo !!!
Two Halloween mask wearing teenagers jump out behind a fallen tree and I go down screaming. I roll, choke spit the drink out of my mouth like vomit and just shake and shake moaning "Mom". Sam is over me screaming a girl starts crying. Simon and Logan are terrified and start running for the house " we had no cell signal " Sam's nom is a trauma nurse. They run the half mile back to house with Tyler another kid. As they get into the yard. Tyler yells out "It's a joke"
They walk back threatening me never to do that again and we walk back to bonfire and end the night as friends.
That's it
P.s. Shayne if you're reading this thanks for the laughs

The Hanging Tree By John Westrick

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended.
“Damnit Jimmy, you're supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried.
A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher's mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d prefer to have Roger Morris on our team and he can’t see a damn thing with those bug eyes.”
An easy-going boy with blonde shaggy hair and a confident smile strolled up to Jimmy, extending his hand to assist, and said, “Here let me help you up. After all, you're the best player on our team. MVP hands down. Come on boys, give him a cheer!”
The boys chanted Jimmy’s name in a mocking parade of triumph.
“I don’t need your help, David,” said Jimmy.
Dirt smeared and face growing hot, the embarrassed boy attempted to climb to his feet. The hand extended to help, struck lightning-fast, catching the smaller boy squarely in the chest. With a groan of pain, the dirty boy hit the ground for the second time that afternoon.
“Well, if I knew you liked to eat dirt so much, I never would’ve offered to help,” said David, a wolfish smile forming on the landscape of his face.
A chorus of cruel laughter echoed all around.
“I hate you David Baxly,” said the wheezing boy.
David looked at Jimmy with disgust, giving him a savage kick to his left kidney. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and die. I doubt even your family would miss you.”
The rest of the boys walked away leaving the bleeding Jimmy whimpering on the ground.
No longer crying from pain but seething anger, slowly he began to crawl to his feet. “I wish I could go somewhere else. Just pick up and move and never have to see those shitheads ever again,” said Jimmy speaking to no one in particular.
It was thoughts of revenge that occupied his mind, half-baked plans, he didn't have the courage to act upon. No matter, it wasn’t revenge he truly sought, but a friend. The idea of having people look at him and truly see him. Humiliation for David Baxly was just an added bonus.
The bloody boy was still fantasizing about these things, when he found himself staring at the intersection of Jackson and main street in the sleepy town of Brookhollow, Tennessee. Brookhollow is like many rural towns, so tiny that it doesn’t even appear on the map. There are 876 residents in the tight-knit community, according to the 2008 census. Main street boasts one general store, a gas station, the town hall, and Debbie’s Diner.
It was on the outside of the later building that he saw the missing sign of Jack Dunkin, a 12-year-old boy from a neighboring town a few miles to the west. Jack was from Polk, a slightly larger town and known rival to Brookhollow. Even though Jack was in the same grade as Jimmy, they had never met.
Jimmy looked at the picture and saw that the boy had been missing for nearly 3 months. He wondered how his mom would react if he was missing that long; he reached the conclusion that she probably wouldn’t even notice. Ever since she took that job at Debbie’s to pay for the remainder of her husband’s gambling debts, she was hardly even home.
She was gone when he woke and didn't come back too well after he was asleep. The only time Jimmy had any communication with Laura Hanson was on Sundays. Even this small exposure was tainted by the bone deep exhaustion. She may have been present, even so, she wasn't there. Laura wakes, eats, drinks, uses the bathroom; yet she isn't really living. She reminded the boy of those cheesy horror movies they sometimes play late at night. The walking dead.
As little as his interaction with Laura, at least she still lived in the ramshackle motorhome right off the main highway. His dad, if he even still qualified to be called that, left some time back, draining the joint bank account and leaving the two of them penniless. Jimmy didn’t even know where he stayed, let alone had a phone number for the bastard. A few years back he received a postcard from him. He was shelled up in some two-bit motel in the thriving city of Las Vegas. On the back of the card was a charming little note, it said, “Jimmy, I wish you could see the city. Maybe you could come out and visit. I’d love for you to come and hang with my friends. Ps. Could you have your mom send me some money, I’m in a little bit of trouble here.
This led to his first real fight with his mom. He was adamant on going and meeting his father, thinking that if he got to know him he could change him. Bring him back. His mom wanted nothing to do with the man, nor did she want her son to be hurt again. The argument got heated and words were exchanged. In the end, he stayed, but some things chafe over time. Things were never quite the same.
If the boy was honest with himself, he would have to admit there is no one in his life. He has no friends in school, there is no one waiting for him at home, and he is not a part of any extracurricular activities. He goes to school, comes home, does his homework, makes dinner for his mom, and goes to bed. It has never occurred to him that he is lonely, the fact is he has never known anything else.
Jimmy doesn’t actually live in Brookhollow, his house is about two miles north up highway 29. He lives outside of the school’s jurisdiction, so he is unable to take the bus. He walks to school every day. The walk is peaceful and he actually looks forward to it. The boy possesses an overactive imagination and gets lost in his fantasies. A little less today, his ribs ache with every step. But not even this inconvenience can ruin the solitary 2-mile trek back home. He makes no turns, highway 29 is main street. All he needs to do is walk straight and he will arrive at his house.
But he is not walking in rural Tennessee anymore. He is a pioneer exploring the Great Frontier. Native Americans and wolves stalk him at night, he must be aware of the dangers that lie beyond every turn. He can see his way through any situation with the help of his trusty companion and best friend, One-eyed Pete. Pete used to be an outlaw that robbed and cheated people, but changed his ways when Jimmy saved him from being hung on the hanging tree.
A shutter runs through his body every time he remembers the hanging tree. It’s the largest oak he had ever seen. He loves to climb trees but would never dream of climbing that one. It is twisted, not a single leaf on its branches. If evil was ever a location, it would be at the heart of that gnarled tree. Jimmy doesn’t like to think about it. It always seems to ruin his mood. Poison his mind. His fantasies always turn darker when he thinks of the oak.
Suddenly he is aware of exactly how alone he is. A full mile out from the safety of the town. No one is nearby. It’s just him, the trees, and his own tormented imagination. He wishes he wouldn’t have thought of that tree. He wishes he had a dad to pick him up from school, but there is no rescue for him. In Jimmy’s experience, heroes only exist in the story books.
“The hanging tree is in your mind, Jimmy, it isn't real,” he tells himself over and over as if to ward away evil. And why not? For that tree is most definitely evil, the hideous villain in an insidious plot.
In the primal portion of his mind, he senses danger. The same skittish feeling the antelope experiences shortly before the concealed lion pounces and feasts on flesh.
“Trees don’t eat little boys,” murmurs the frightened boy.
“Maybe so, yet that oak could hardly be classified in the same league as other trees,” responds his own treasonous thoughts.
The boy's mind splinters; warring factions jockeying for supremacy. Paranoia seizes him, inky black hands clawing the air out of his lungs. A young boy unaware of the inward mutiny happening amidst his own wits, completely left to his own demented imagination. Yet, the stakes of this adventure are a great deal higher than any he has yet to experience.
His mother was fond of telling him, “What you think, you become.”
A truly awful thought slinks into his mind unbidden. What if the stories his mind conjures could gain reality too? The thought overwhelms the boy. His eyes shift back and forth searching for threats. Jimmy’s senses are keen to his surroundings. Every twig snapping, a creature stalking. Every bush rustling, a hungry beast ready to devour. Yet, the petty fears of a child's tormented mind pales to the unearthly wrongness of the hanging tree.
“What if mom is right?” says the concerned boy to the emptiness. At this unwelcome thought the boy slams his eyes closed in a futile attempt to banish the horrific idea.
“The hanging tree isn’t real,” says Jimmy, knowing in his heart this isn’t true. In the back of his mind, the boy is certain that the moment he opens his eyes, he will see it. He will see the strands of rope dangling from the gnarled branches. He will smell the smell of decaying bodies. He will hear the creak of rope swaying gently in the cool breeze.
The boy doubles his efforts in a vain attempt to keep his eyes closed. He sees red due to the strain he is putting on his muscles. He hears the steady pulse of his blood rushing in his head. The boy also understands that all this effort is for naught. He must open his eyes at some point. Jealousy creeps into the boy’s heart. Envy for the man born without sight. For the boy understands the moment he sees, there will be no coming back.
The moment has come.
Jimmy can no longer keep his eyes shut. Seconds before his eyes fling open, he feels the gentle touch of someone's hand on his shoulder. This touch startles him, and the boy throws wide his eyes.
Sure enough a few hundred yards in front of him, stands the abomination. A lone tree on the top of a bald, scarred hill. Not a living thing to be seen. No vegetation growing on the hill, no squirrels scuttling about, just a great oak, standing; an obscene gesture to the god of this world. The only fruit of this tree the decaying flesh of dead men, and likewise, the only cup the curdled blood of those hanging. A final meal set for the boy, an unholy communion.
The hand, whose was it? Was it even human? The little boy left visibly shaking at the touch of the unknown. Is this death? The icy grip of the Reaper himself here to harvest with his scythe. No marriage, no children, not knowing the pleasures of true friendship. Life cut short, a lamentable state of affairs.
It was in this line of thought, where true courage was mustered. A strength measured not by the size of his muscles or the amount one could lift, but the more impressive type, the type quantified in the amount of shit one can wade. Identified in the amount of crap hands dealt without bowing out altogether. Young Jimmy Hanson did the unthinkable, he turned and faced death looking it in the eyes.
Eyes, yes, but death perhaps not. It was no titan of horror, nor was it the poster child of demented evil. Child it was, but this boy was familiar. Not anyone from his class, yet he knew the boy. In a moment of clarity, he recognized him. It was the missing kid, Jack Dunkin.
He looked identical to the poster on the side of Debbie’s Diner. He wore the same black and white Van’s tee shirt, ripped blue jeans, and some tattered Nike tennis shoes. The thoroughly terrified Jimmy stood staring at the missing boy, mouth ajar.
Jack with an easy-going grin plastered on his face, said, “It's about time, someone comes looking for me. I've been waiting for you Jimmy, far too long.”
With an audible click the boy shut his gaping mouth and responded, “Ja- Jack, you've been missing for nearly three months. Have you been out here all along? Are you alone? Are you hurt?” Jimmy fired these questions in rapid succession, growing more suspicious with each word.
“I’ve been right here, waiting for you to come and play with me. You see, I am like you. I never had anyone to play with either. Now you are here, and you must stay with me,” said the bigger boy with a smile on his face.
Jimmy’s mind quieted, for the first time in his life he saw himself clearly. A boy with no friends, no father, hardly a mother, bullied every day, and no way of escape. Clarity revealed the harsh truth. A day had not gone by that he wasn’t lonely. There was no one in his life. There was no life for him.
The undersized boy looked at the other with longing in his eyes. He thirsted for a friend, like a man lost at sea. He hungered for companionship, like a man stuck in the wilderness. It wasn’t just a desire; he was desperate for a friend. If the bigger boy would leave, Jimmy felt as if his soul would tear in half. His heart would shatter into a thousand pieces unable to be put back together. The boys' eyes were a mirror reflecting the same sad truth, they understood each other. Both had lived, and neither had anyone to share it with.
The boys bound by shared hardships grasped onto each other refusing to let go. The combined burden of loneliness lessened by two backs, instead of one.
With few words exchanged, the two of them created soul ties. Not the ties of lovers, but of lifelong friends. The type one dies for. The rare type of friendship that most people never form in their entire life. It was rich. It was wholesome. Jimmy felt as if his life was complete. The one thing he always desired truly fulfilled.
Jack grabbed the smaller boy’s hand and guided him towards the tree.
Jimmy, not wanting to get anywhere near that monstrosity, tried to pull back.
“Don’t worry. The tree is a good place. It will take us to a new land filled with boys and girls just like you and I. No David’s or bullies like him,” said a smiling Jack.
“How did you know about David? You’ve been missing all this time,” said a concerned looking Jimmy.
“Jimmy, I hear whispers. My friends tell me things. They will tell you secrets too. If you want to be friends with me, that is.” The bigger boy looked down at his ragged shoes. He looked so pitiful and Jimmy was so starved for companionship, how could he not follow the boy.
Jack led the two of them to the scarred trunk of the tree. Here he let go of Jimmy’s hand, telling the boy, “Do exactly what I do.”
Jimmy’s fear bottled up deep in his guts. He felt as if he was going to explode. The tree was sinister and twisted. Evil through and through. Yet, the little boy had never had a friend. He was not willing to throw that away so easily.
Jack walked to the lowest hanging branch. He reached up and grabbed one of the dangling nooses. He wrapped it around his neck and looked at Jimmy. “Don’t worry, no pain is felt. The hanging tree is magic. You’ll close your eyes on this world, and wake up in a better place with me and all of my friends,” said a smiling Jack.
“Ja-Jack, I don’t think I can do this. It seems dangerous. I need to go back home soon. My mom will be waiting for me,” said a terrified Jimmy.
A heartbroken Jack looked at the smaller boy and said, “Jimmy, I can’t believe you would lie to me. Your mom isn’t home and she wouldn’t even notice that you are missing. Come with me. I am the only one who cares for you.”
Tears streaming down the smaller boy’s face, he responded, “Please don’t make me do it! This place frightens me. Can’t you just come home with me?”
“No! This world despises people like you and me. We weren’t made for it. We were made for the hanging tree. This is where you belong,” snarled the bigger boy.
Jimmy, eyes still running, reached with trembling hands for the dangling noose. He seized it. With one final glance at his friend, the little boy placed the loop around his neck. Immediately the noose drew tight. It felt as if the tree was hauling him up by it. The boy kicked and squirmed. Trying to shout for help, but his airflow was cut off. He managed to make a choking noise, then with one final twitch all was still. Still as the glassy surface of a lake on a spring day.
Little Jimmy Hanson had finally made a friend.
The two boys remained dangling together, gently swaying in the stale autumn breeze.