Girls pull bra down
Monster Musume: Everyday Life with Monster Girls
2014.08.05 22:30 Monster Musume: Everyday Life with Monster Girls
All about the popular manga and anime series: Monster Musume: Everyday Life with Monster Girls!
2018.03.07 11:17 Mr_Tohtle <3
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2024.05.14 18:43 Yurii_S_Kh A Parish Priest’s Conversation in the Cemetery on Radonitsa
 | Before I came to the faith, I didn’t like going to the cemetery. What’s more, the cemetery always reminded me of my mortality, and it made me sad. Since I didn’t see life as eternal, it seemed sad to live on earth. submitted by Yurii_S_Kh to SophiaWisdomOfGod [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/5iqk8wg87f0d1.png?width=700&format=png&auto=webp&s=ca4ed8cb5d2d2add69e831459d6614da6d532d23 What should I live for? In order to die? It’s all pointless. Willy-nilly you arrive at the idea of evolution here. Man appeared on earth as a result of positive mutations and eventually we began to have consciousness, conscience and reason. Sometimes you clutch your head, saying, “Why did I become a human being? Who needed all these mutations if I will just be buried in the ground or turn into a pathetic handful of ashes?” With such ideas, the old saying seemed justified: “Take everything from life before the worms eat you.” The awareness of the fact that you are a mold from an eternal Image justifies your existence and gives it meaning. And the thought of your inevitable meeting with the Creator makes you take your life seriously. The purpose is revealed to you: He loves you, and you are a child of His love. And you think: “How good!” It was only after I came to the faith that the cemetery ceased to be an eerie place for me and turned into a “repository of completed narratives.” Our cemetery beyond the village in the heart of the forest is divided into the smaller, old one, which appeared in the seventeenth century, and the new and larger one. Do you know how our village cemetery differs from urban ones—apart from its size? I served the funeral for almost everyone who is buried in the new cemetery. I made the “last entry” in the destiny of almost every person buried here. I pray for them and remember many of them. Besides, even before my ordination I had lived and worked with these people for many years. And I know that their life in eternity depends on my prayer in some way. Our bond with them was not severed by their demise. Spiritual care does not stop even beyond the grave. The Church year, with its memorial Ancestors’ Saturdays and especially the Paschal services, does not allow us to forget those who have already departed this life. And visiting people’s graves on Radonitsa always is always a special, joyful event for me. I go to the cemetery as if to visit my friends—those whom I came to love during their earthly lives and with whom I prayed and restored the church—my brothers and sisters. One day I had a dream just before going to serve on Ancestors’ Saturday. It was as if I had died, my soul had flown away, and I could even see my own body from outside it. And I was so upset and sorry that I could not say goodbye to anyone, hug my children and kiss my wife. And my soul began to cry from anguish. Suddenly a thought flashed through my mind: “Today is Ancestors’ Saturday! How many people will come to church now, but there will be no service! Where will another priest come from?” And my soul, accustomed to responsibility, immediately returned to my body. I woke up and was relieved that it had all just been a dream. But then I remembered forever how my soul had wept after leaving the body. From that day on I began to feel compassion for the deceased while performing the funeral over them. https://preview.redd.it/6n9w3htc7f0d1.png?width=766&format=png&auto=webp&s=865fb6725a4d697012e0c45be99ed41cee63ec40 I am greeted first by Alexei at the entrance to the new cemetery. I learned a lot from that man and in many ways, would like to be like him. He knew how to live and had a great desire to live. But for all his buoyancy, illness taught Alexei to be patient and to humble himself. He was dying for several years, but every time after the unction he got better and continued to come to church every Sunday and receive Communion. And he passed away on the feast of the Ascension of the Lord. The last thing Alexei said to me—and I managed to give him Communion—was: “Thank you, Father. Thanks for everything!” Christ is Risen, Alexei! The well-groomed grave of the child Sashenka [a diminutive form of the name Alexander.—Trans.] is very close. He received Communion almost at every Sunday Liturgy. He drowned in Feodosia the day before he was supposed to start going to the first grade. His father Nikolai, a simple worker, could not save the child. After that, through hard labor he earned a sufficient sum of money for us to pay for the work of icon-painters. Three large icons of the Deesis in the St. Nicholas Chapel of our church are his sacrifice in memory of his son. One day, after his death, the boy came to his father in a dream and said: “Papa, I’ve been to many places, but I like St. Alexander Svirsky’s monastery the most.” Christ is Risen, dear child! Pray for us there. Irina. Irochka, I still can’t come to terms with the fact that you’ve been here for six years already. You shouldn’t have died, especially at such a young age. You are our beauty! I will never forget it—after I had given you Divine Unction and Communion, you took my hand in yours, already translucent from illness, and, kissing it, said: “Now I’m not afraid of anything. Thank you.” I hope you were not offended that I almost forced your husband away from your grave. You know, I started to fear for him. The dead cling to the dead, and the living cling to the living, as it were. Christ is Risen, our joy! * * * Sophia, I’ll tell you honestly: no one bakes pancakes the way you baked them. Do you think I’m joking? No, in all seriousness. The schoolchildren who cleaned the church with us and then ate your pancakes with tea have already grown up. Now some of them have their own children, but every time they come, they recall how much they enjoyed your delicious pancakes! https://preview.redd.it/bki5kxkh7f0d1.png?width=300&format=png&auto=webp&s=61aec1e80b6e09ef4450f1558ea47353e17ba303 What hard times we had! Now we have both a refectory and a parish house (with two floors), but back then we didn’t have anything. I still wonder how you always managed to cope with everything. Christ is Risen, our wise woman! Praskovyushka [a diminutive form of the name Parasceva.—Trans.]! My angel who selflessly helped me in the altar. Today is Radonitsa and the eighth anniversary of your birth into eternity. You read by syllables, but you taught me so much! My friend, I am grateful to God that He brought me together with you. Pray for me, mother, so that someday I too can reach the measure of your simplicity and learn to hope and trust in God the way you did. Of course, you know that your youngest daughter gave up drinking and came to the church, that she prays and often takes Communion. Today she is almost never out of the church, as was the case with you. So, both your daughters are in the church. Your prayer does its job, and even after your death it does not lose its power. You cried your eyes out for your daughter. The time came, and she told me herself, “That’s it, Father, there there’s no turning back.” What a wise woman you are! Praskovyushka, Christ is Risen! And here rests my old acquaintance, Vasily Ivanovich. In his old age a strange thing happened to him: he fell in love like a teenager. He started writing love poetry, but he was ashamed to reveal it to anyone. But he trusted me. He would come to the entrance of my house, sit down on a bench and wait for me to see him and come out. Then he would take out his notebook, and his “sonnets” would start flowing. How many times I invited you to the church, my friend! You kept promising, but... never came. Christ is Risen, Vasily! Then the tombstones of rich people begin. There are three tombstones here, behind an imposing metal fence. That’s right, it’s a family of three people. Petrovich, an entrepreneur, a good man who drank. He didn’t give sufficient attention to his son who was hooked on drugs. No matter how much they tried to cure him it was all in vain. After the young man’s death, Petrovich’s wife took to drinking too, as if she had decided to die. They lived beside the church. Their house had once been built on church land. It was a big, beautiful “mansion” in which you could live for many years. One day Petrovich came to our church while I was racking my brains over the problem of where to find money for a new roof. I desperately needed to have our winter church reroofed. A piece broke off from the destroyed bell-tower and pierced the roof in several places. And we had just plastered the walls inside, putting so much effort into it. There was no one in the church except Petrovich and me. I went up to him and greeted him. I saw that he was having a very hard time. And who would be feeling otherwise after losing his only son? I addressed him: “Petrovich, do a good deed in memory of Kostya [a diminutive form of the name Konstantin.—Trans.]. Do you see how the roof was broken by bricks from the bell-tower? Help us redo it as long as there is no rain so far. You’re a wealthy man, help me. I will also ask the parishioners—and we will do it all together. I’m afraid we’ll ruin the plaster inside after the rain starts.” Petrovich was silent for a little while. His face was so kind, he really was a nice chap. Then he said: “You know, father, I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to live now, after my only son’s death. And I’ve decided that now I will live only for myself. So, please don’t take it amiss, but look for other sponsors.” And indeed, Petrovich started to live for himself: he bought a new car, had a holiday abroad, and began to dress well. And then Petrovich disappeared—we couldn’t find him for a whole week. One afternoon as I was walking to the church, a boy of about ten caught up with me: “Father, go and see what it is! I keep looking and I can’t figure it out.” I went with him, and he brought me to the back of Petrovich’s house, where there was a huge puddle. I looked where the boy was pointing and saw something like a swollen sugar bag floating in the puddle. But it didn’t seem to be a bag—it resembled a man. We called the police, and Petrovich’s daughter-in-law pulled him out of the puddle. She said she saw a bullet hole in his forehead. But no one investigated it then. I performed the funeral for him in the courtyard of our church. And three months later his wife passed away. Their “big mansion” stands empty. Christ is risen, Petrovich! Don’t think that I bear a grudge against you. After you refused, another man came and offered his help—he took the church reroofing on himself. This is how things work with God—if not you, then someone else. You already know that. Poor Petrovich, nobody remembers you, but I don’t forget you. https://preview.redd.it/4cofc1xj7f0d1.png?width=700&format=png&auto=webp&s=9b38988d17339f1ee040045051c118eb8e9deac9 How many years have I served at the grave of a young mother’s child on Radonitsa. She crossed a pedestrian crossing in Moscow when the traffic light was green. But a jeep suddenly appeared, knocking the child down. There must have been a tiny news report about you that day. As I understand it, the jeep driver was acquitted. But it doesn’t matter now whether he was acquitted or not. A momentary incident, but the mother’s mental distress has not abated for four years, she is sick at heart, and she still wears black. How accustomed we are to these news reports: Someone has perished here, someone else has been killed in an explosion there, a plane crashed somewhere, etc. But all this means someone’s pain, tears, broken hearts, and orphaned children. Mother, Christ is risen, don’t cry and start praying for your girl. Help her, while you have some strength. There is a large marble slab with a portrait of a young man. Yuri worked at one of his father’s gas stations. About ten years ago, some drug addicts murdered him at work at night. I remember his mother weeping in church. We have a custom: If people make a contribution to the church in memory of their reposed loved one, order an icon, buy a candle stand or something like that, then we add the name of the person in question into our list for permanent commemoration. I offered the same to Yuri’s close ones. On hearing this, his mother stopped crying. She came up to me and said quietly: “Father, only don’t tell my husband. I’m afraid he won’t understand you.” It was only then that it dawned on me: If he left his son alone to work at the gas station at night without security, he really wouldn’t understand me. His family does not set foot in church anymore. Yuri, your closest ones betrayed you. But forgive them; You know, we don’t choose our parents. But I’m still wondering: How will they look into your eyes when you meet them in eternity? Nobody comes to your grave on Radonitsa, but I remember you, your placidness, and sometimes pray for you. But forget them all. Christ is Risen, Yuri—you and I will rejoice together. At the exit I met one of our believers from Moscow, who had buried her mother right around Pascha a year before. “Earlier I couldn’t go to the cemetery—I felt uneasy here. But now I can sit here next to my mother’s grave, talk to her, and I feel so good—I don’t want to go away,” she said. And we, Galochka, don’t “go away”. It only seems to us that the departed are somewhere far away from us, but in reality they are close, in our hearts, in our memory and our prayers. After all, and of course, you know it yourself, love (if we have it) does not disappear, even after death. Archpriest Alexander Dyachenko |
2024.05.14 18:19 interquast I am dying here, please help me tell my boss how to simplify this process (we use Shopify)
I genuinely am not sure if this is the right sub but I'm at my wits end with this and I am seeking help.
I have a job where I do the ecommerce for a small chain of clothing boutiques in Florida. This is not a field I know a ton about and the job kind of happened to me on accident. The owner hires sales associates, then if they are "tech savvy" she will train them to do onlines.
The owner has 5 locations including a warehouse. At one of the locations, which is typically slower and doesn't see as much foot traffic, she has the "online girls." These are the employees that process all her online orders. There are 3 of us.
I am the only full-time "online girl." The other two work 1-2 days a week typically. Sometimes 3 if I am lucky.
Her online process is... really crazy and I've not been doing this job long enough to be able to figure out where I can even begin to fix it.
Basically, this is her process:
Where do I even begin with this? Orders are almost always delayed. Customers are constantly getting the wrong things in their shipments. People are always complaining. I have to work crazy amounts of overtime to make any of this work. The "online girls" are all on the verge of quitting.
I have tried documents. My boss says she "doesn't do documents." She does most things through text message.
I have been here 6 months. It's not sustainable. I need to convince her there's a much easier way to do this but I don't know how.
Anybody have any immediate thoughts?
submitted by interquast to ecommerce [link] [comments]
I have a job where I do the ecommerce for a small chain of clothing boutiques in Florida. This is not a field I know a ton about and the job kind of happened to me on accident. The owner hires sales associates, then if they are "tech savvy" she will train them to do onlines.
The owner has 5 locations including a warehouse. At one of the locations, which is typically slower and doesn't see as much foot traffic, she has the "online girls." These are the employees that process all her online orders. There are 3 of us.
I am the only full-time "online girl." The other two work 1-2 days a week typically. Sometimes 3 if I am lucky.
Her online process is... really crazy and I've not been doing this job long enough to be able to figure out where I can even begin to fix it.
Basically, this is her process:
- Order comes in
- I have to log on remotely to a PC in the warehouse to manually search for each item in our inventory and I have to write down in the Shopify order notes which locations have the items, and where we are going to ship the order from. I then have to adjust these items out of inventory. Roughly 50% of the time someone is using that PC and I have to wait. Sometimes its easier for me to do this at 1am when everyone is asleep.
- If there are items on the order that cannot ship from the same place, we split the shipment and buy multiple labels.
- I email the stores where I am pulling items from with a list of the items I need for this order.
- The stores search their flooback room for the items, and then they respond back with the SKU, price, and weight.
- If they do not have all the items because inventory was incorrect (it nearly always is), I have to pull the item from a different store, repeat the process.
- If all items are accounted for then I send them the label.
- If there are items that are showing up as out of stock companywide, we have to make a list of these items and send them to our company group chat and tell all the stores to search their flooback room for these items. We have to send this same list to the owner and email all the stores with it.
- If the stores cant find these items still, we have to see if our boss can order it directly from the vendor, and then email the customers to let them know there will be delays.
- If it will take too long to order the item, we can email the customer with a list of "replacement options." We have to email the customer every day for 3 days until they answer. If they don't answer, we have to call them and ask them what they want as a replacement for their out of stock item. We aren't allowed to refund them unless they tell us they don't want a replacement or they don't answer their phone.
Where do I even begin with this? Orders are almost always delayed. Customers are constantly getting the wrong things in their shipments. People are always complaining. I have to work crazy amounts of overtime to make any of this work. The "online girls" are all on the verge of quitting.
I have tried documents. My boss says she "doesn't do documents." She does most things through text message.
I have been here 6 months. It's not sustainable. I need to convince her there's a much easier way to do this but I don't know how.
Anybody have any immediate thoughts?
2024.05.14 18:19 MO_drps_knwldg Style fundamentals: 6 Scents that women love
A few upfront disclaimers:
Note: I would also highly recommend Mont Blanc Explorer, which smells like a fresher, lighter version of Creed’s Aventus.
Full article on topic: https://modating.substack.com/p/style-fundamentals-5-scents-that
submitted by MO_drps_knwldg to datingadvice [link] [comments]
- No, a scent won’t make a woman instantly become attracted to you in most instances.
- No, you don’t NEED a scent/fragrance to attract women. (Can see the comments now: “I do great with women and I don’t wear anything!” We get it.)
- Wearing a scent won’t matter if you have fundamentally poor hygiene (don’t bathe, brush teeth, wear some form of deodorant). Take care of those first.
- Mont Blanc Legend
Note: I would also highly recommend Mont Blanc Explorer, which smells like a fresher, lighter version of Creed’s Aventus.
- Versace Eros EDT
- Prada Luna Rossa Carbon
- Bleu De Chanel EDP
- Dolce and Gabbana The One
- Chanel Platinum Egoiste
Full article on topic: https://modating.substack.com/p/style-fundamentals-5-scents-that
2024.05.14 18:17 MO_drps_knwldg Style fundamentals: 6 Scents that women love
A few upfront disclaimers:
Note: I would also highly recommend Mont Blanc Explorer, which smells like a fresher, lighter version of Creed’s Aventus.
Full article on topic: https://modating.substack.com/p/style-fundamentals-5-scents-that
submitted by MO_drps_knwldg to datingadviceformen [link] [comments]
- No, a scent won’t make a woman instantly become attracted to you in most instances.
- No, you don’t NEED a scent/fragrance to attract women. (Can see the comments now: “I do great with women and I don’t wear anything!” We get it.)
- Wearing a scent won’t matter if you have fundamentally poor hygiene (don’t bathe, brush teeth, wear some form of deodorant). Take care of those first.
- Mont Blanc Legend
Note: I would also highly recommend Mont Blanc Explorer, which smells like a fresher, lighter version of Creed’s Aventus.
- Versace Eros EDT
- Prada Luna Rossa Carbon
- Bleu De Chanel EDP
- Dolce and Gabbana The One
- Chanel Platinum Egoiste
Full article on topic: https://modating.substack.com/p/style-fundamentals-5-scents-that
2024.05.14 18:16 MO_drps_knwldg Style fundamentals: 6 Scents that women love
A few upfront disclaimers:
Note: I would also highly recommend Mont Blanc Explorer, which smells like a fresher, lighter version of Creed’s Aventus.
Full article on topic: https://modating.substack.com/p/style-fundamentals-5-scents-that
submitted by MO_drps_knwldg to BrosDatingAdvice [link] [comments]
- No, a scent won’t make a woman instantly become attracted to you in most instances.
- No, you don’t NEED a scent/fragrance to attract women. (Can see the comments now: “I do great with women and I don’t wear anything!” We get it.)
- Wearing a scent won’t matter if you have fundamentally poor hygiene (don’t bathe, brush teeth, wear some form of deodorant). Take care of those first.
- Mont Blanc Legend
Note: I would also highly recommend Mont Blanc Explorer, which smells like a fresher, lighter version of Creed’s Aventus.
- Versace Eros EDT
- Prada Luna Rossa Carbon
- Bleu De Chanel EDP
- Dolce and Gabbana The One
- Chanel Platinum Egoiste
Full article on topic: https://modating.substack.com/p/style-fundamentals-5-scents-that
2024.05.14 18:15 Many-Patient2894 I think my cousin was replaced, and I think I know when it happened. I don't know what to do
To be honest, I wasn't sure that the Advice sub would let me post this there so I'm posting it here because it's so fucked up. And it didn't seem right for Let's Not Meet, either. But I do need advice, because I feel I'm losing my fucking mind.
So I (30F) have always been very close to my cousin (30F), let's call her Angela. Because we're the same age, our parents (my mom and her father are siblings) went through all the same stages with us and as such, we were more or less raised like siblings due to how much time our families spent together.
We even had homes in the country in the same township, which is where I think this happened. And I can't really tell my family this because it will make me sound legitimately crazy. And some part of me even doubts this memory, but at the same time I know in my heart that it's true. It's a complicated feeling, and this memory was brought to light last week when my suspicion I've had for years was more or less confirmed.
One winter, sixteen years ago, when Angela and I were both fourteen, both of our families were at our cottages, a twenty minute drive from each other. Angela and her little brother (my cousin, let's call him James) parents (my aunt and uncle) were going skiing one morning, and I wanted to go too. So I spent the night at their cottage, like I often did when we all went up north.
Angela's bedroom had two single beds in it, and James' room was down the hall. The whole house was open concept, so the hall from Angela's room to James' room did not have walls, but rather was bordered by two railings over which you could see down into the main floor, the open concept living and dining rooms.
James is four years younger than us, and when he was 10, he was such a typical little boy/little brother, it's almost cartoonish to look back on. Like, I'm talking *constantly* bothering us, putting a stink bomb on a remote control car that he would sneak into our rooms, trying to read Angela's diary when we weren't in her bedroom, just all the stuff. But never anything cruel or out of the ordinary or sinister, just a massive handful.
The basement of James and Angela's cottage was filled with storage and old toys, and sometimes (on the rare occasion) that we'd willingly play with James, we'd all go down to the basement and try to freak each other out. Anyway, one of the toys in the basement was your typical Raggedy-Ann doll from the 60s or something. I think it belonged to my uncle when he was a kid and then Angela when she was a baby. Her name was Trilly. I forget who named it. Anyway, I have vague memories of playing with it when we were much younger and pretending it was our third cousin or our little daughter. But since then she'd sat in storage in the basement.
But, what great nightmare material! Right?! A creepy, limp, smiling doll. So the night I stayed over, before we went skiing in the morning, James, Angela and I were up to our playing in the basement, and I remember we tried to freak James out by pretending Trilly was alive or something like that. Whatever. Game over, we all had dinner with the parents, then watched a movie as a family and went to bed. James to his room and Angela and me to Angela's room.
Now this is the thing. Angela and I still joke about this night, and she remembers it just like I do, which is why I sort of wrote off my hypothesis until last week. That night, in the middle of the night, I started tossing and turning. I woke up and could tell that Angela was stirring as well. One of us said to the other, "are you awake?" and the other said "yes," and we realized that we both couldn't sleep or were woken up by the same thing or were both just feeling restless. But then, at the other end of her room, Trilly was sitting in the fucking desk chair.
I think it was Angela who pointed it out. We saw a shadow, thinking it was a person, freaked out, and then relaxed briefly when we saw it was just the doll. But then we got freaked out all over again and were like, "why the FUCK is this FUCKING doll in your room!?!?", murderously standing up and going over to it to pick it up and throw it in James' room and pound the living Christ out of him.
We turn on all the lights, turn on the hall light, stomp down the hall into his room and turn on his lights, and see he's not in his bed. We then go downstairs (my aunt and uncle's room was on the main floor), Trilly still in Angela's hands, and hear my aunt and James in the washroom. Turns out James had been sick for the last few hours and my aunt had been up all night with him as he was throwing up in the washroom. And when we saw the scene we immediately could tell that James had nothing to do with Trilly. Like, it was just one of those really believable situations where we could tell James truly had no idea what was going on. We even felt bad for him. And, to top it off, when we told him the story in the morning it scared him so much that he didn't go into the basement for like a year. Anyway, it just seemed really sincere.
So Angela and I went back up to her room and we were like, "are we *sure* we didn't bring this up here last night? Are we sure? We must have." Anyway, while we were really freaked, we figured that it was explainable. We knew the doll obviously didn't walk itself upstairs like it was some horror movie. But, because we were fourteen and all for the drama (and I remember us having the "better safe than sorry" mindset) we called her dog upstairs (Bella, a poorly behaved black poodle). We started playing tug-of-war with Bella, using Trilly as the toy, and eventually Bella ripped her to shreds.
Anyway, funny memory, making the dog rip up the doll, we laughed and thought we were tough and cool, then we went back to bed.
The next morning, instead of all of us going skiing, it was just Me, Angela, and my Uncle, because James stayed home with my aunt on account of his stomach flu. But when we woke up, Angela was acting weird. Nothing too noteable, just really bizarrely quiet as she moved around her room to get her clothes out of her drawers and get changed. She didn't, like, acknowledge me in her room. I said something like "morning" when she didn't acknowledge me, and she looked at me and then turned back to her drawers and kept getting changed.
And she was looking around weirdly, I remember that too. Almost like she'd misplaced something, but a little more dazed than that. Just moving strangely. Then she went downstairs without saying anything to me at all. I thought maybe she was just super groggy... but it still felt really weird.
When I went downstairs, she was standing at the island in the kitchen buttering toast that my uncle had put in for us. I distinctly remember walking up beside her and the toaster, pulling a piece of toast out of it, putting it on the plate that had been set out for me, and when I dipped the knife into the container of butter, Angela smacked my hand away, hard, and looked at me and snapped, "what are you doing? Don't take things that aren't yours". I was shocked. It honestly felt like being struck in the face. She'd never spoken to me like that before, and even though we were like siblings, I still felt that kind of mortifying embarrassment you feel when someone calls you out on misbehaving, even though I wasn't doing anything wrong; but it *was* her family's butter and bread? I don't know. That's what I remember thinking. But it was awkward and weird and I just said, "um, what?" and then she didn't say anything, just kept buttering her toast, and I mumbled some apology.
The three of us then drove to the ski hill and, I kid you not, Angela and I didn't speak the whole way there. I had no idea what was up, but I didn't want to ask with her dad in the car.
Then when we got to the ski hill, we went skiing just the two of us and on the chairlift during the first run I mustered up the courage to say "Hey, did I do something wrong? I feel like you're really mad at me or something". And she turned to look at me and was confused. Not friendly, not warm, not reassuring, but confused. It was almost as if I was a stranger and she looked at me as if to say, "sorry, who are you? why are you talking to me?"
And she responded in a formal way: "Sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about". The distance in her voice was really eerie, and I started to think maybe this had to do with the doll incident the night before and either she was trying to extend the prank, and she was the one who had put the doll on the chair, OR she felt guilty that we ruined this family doll and she resented me for being a part of it. Anyway, when we got to the top of the hill, she skied down quickly and didn't wait for me to go back up again, and we ended up skiing separately.
I felt awkward and embarrassed like I'd done something wrong. I ended up skiing with my uncle who asked me what was up with us, and I just said I didn't know. Then after our day of skiing, he dropped me off at my family's cottage and continued on home with Angela.
For the rest of that whole school year (we were in ninth grade), Angela and I didn't really speak. It was really sad. We were like sisters before, but better because we weren't actually sisters, but cousins, and so we were like best friends that were related. Seriously, we were really close. And it really messed me up, I felt like she just ghosted me. I would text her and call her house but she was always "fine" or "with Jessica" (her best friend). I chalked it up to her just outgrowing me, and it really fucking sucked. But, to be honest, it was so jarring and such a stark shift that I was more confused than hurt. I talked to my mom about it and she explained to me how rough it can be to be a teenage girl.
But that following summer, we were up at our cottages again, and our family had a barbecue and invited over my aunt and uncle and Angela and James. I had seen Angela at family things a couple of times since and she would just kind of ignore me and spend the whole time texting, which is what I expected this time.
Sure enough, that's what happened for the first bit of the barbecue. But then when the food was ready, she came up beside me as we were dressing our hamburgers at the condiment table and said, "oh my god, remember that night we got Bella to ruin Trilly?" and I was so shocked by her friendly tone, by her acting as though she were picking up a conversation we just were having, that I just stared at her and said, "yeah, that was crazy". And she said, "yeah, so funny. Anyway, how've you been?" again, really different and formal. I almost couldn't get past how altered her tone was, like we'd never even met. In fact she seemed so sprightly and kind that I thought she was mocking me.
And our relationship since that barbecue carried on just like that. She started talking to me more, but I'd reference inside jokes or ways we used to be or things we used to do and she never really latched on to any of them. I was caught between thinking she'd outgrown me and thinking she was like embarrassed of our closeness before or something and was trying to move on. I talked to my mom about this, and again got the speech about how teenage girls can be really cruel/strange sometimes.
So until we were about 22, we were like that. Nice to each other, talking sometimes, not that close, and I learned to not try and act like we were all close or that we had been close. I talked to my friends about it too and they said it was normal for friendships to change like that. But something felt off about this. I started to honestly feel crazy for hanging on to this "before" memory of Angela so much.
Then when we were 22, we grew apart. This time, it was mutual and natural. I moved cities, and she got engaged and became a real estate agent and we just had nothing to talk about. It was gradual and I didn't notice it much. Which brings us to eight years later, just last week.
I was travelling in Iceland. I had to be there (very randomly) for a conference/workshop I was leading for work, and turned it into a vacation. Rented a car, decided I was going to drive across the island after the conference was over and stay on the east part and explore a bit.
Day four of my seven-day long road trip. It's mid-afternoon, I'm hungry. I've been driving for three hours and have come across no sign of civilization at all, and it was fifty miles to the next town. But then, voila! A little gas station/general store/cafe! Perfect!
Ah, fuck. I literally can't believe I'm writing this. It makes me sound fucking crazy. But here I go.
I park in the little three-car parking lot. I get out of my car, step onto the gravel, the sky is white, expansive, there are mountains everywhere around me, fields, sheep. The air is fresh. Seriously middle of nowhere. I walk up the wooden rickety steps and push open the door and hear the door chimes go. A man walks out from the back room and greets me, and the place is cute. There's a little handwritten menu above the cash register and I asked him in my pathetic Icelandic/English mix if I could have the gravlax toast. He's very friendly and kind and says yes, asks if I want a coffee, I say yes please, blah blah, he rings me up at the cash register, and I go and sit at the one table they have and wait for my food.
I look around - it's mostly a fishing supplies store with some general groceries. The man opens the door to the room from which he came, the kitchen I suppose, and says the order to the lady in the back who looks like she's doing some prep cooking. Immediately I stop. It's freaking Angela!!!! Or I thought it was.
Now, remember, I hadn't seen Angela in about eight years. Since her dad passed away when we were twenty-three, and because I'd moved cities, we just had no reason to really see each other especially after growing so far apart.
So, like, OH MY GOD, it's Angela! She's working at a random little general store in middle-of-nowhere Iceland! But wait, I thought. No. This is obviously not-fucking-Angela. Angela is a real estate agent in my hometown. I'd obviously know if she lived in Iceland lol. Right? I don't really use social media but the odd time I do, she'll pop up here and there. But I guess not enough for me to *confirm* she still lived in my hometown.
But anyway, she looked enough like Angela that I went right up to the cash register and rang the little bell and the guy came back out and when he opened the door I was able to get another look at her, and my heart skidded. A chill spread across my crown. It was one hundred percent Angela. Like, my full-on cousin. So, looking over the guys' shoulder, RIGHT AT ANGELA, I smile and say, "Angela!! Oh my god!!" and before she could respond, the door shut again.
And the guy at the cash smiled really big, a nice, friendly, smile and he looked surprised as well, and pointed back over his shoulder and then at me, as if to say, "you two know each other?!" which confirmed for me that her name was Angela, because he seemed really delighted at the coincidence. Expecting her to emerge from the kitchen, I walked around to behind the cash register (the invitation was implied by the guy) and he put his arm back to open the door for me, or for Angela, whom we both expected to be making her way over to me, too.
When he opened the door, she was head-down again, chopping vegetables. I walked through the door and said, "Angela? Angela!" smiling, thinking she hadn't seen me yet or realized who I was, all context considered. She looked up at me, and then quickly, as though avoiding my eyes, looked down. "Hey", she said, quietly, at the cutting board.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Before I could ask anything, she said, "I'm really sorry, okay?"
What?
She repeated herself and then continued: "I'm really sorry okay? But we can't talk".
I actually, like, had no clue what was happening. I was looking into the eyes of my cousin whom I hadn't seen in forever in some random fucking shack in Iceland and she was acting skittish and afraid. I opened my mouth to protest and she said, "I need you to leave," then she called the guy's name and said something to him in Icelandic. She can speak Icelandic??!
The guy came in, his demeanour totally different. Almost like he was a bouncer. He gestured to my coffee and toast that were ready to go, took them in his hands and ushered me out of the kitchen and I could tell I no longer was welcome. Either I wasn't welcome or I was in danger, or both. It felt more like the former. And I don't think the guy had any idea what was going on, either. I think she must have said something to him like "I don't know this person, this person is crazy" or something. That's how he was acting toward me.
I got in my car, I drove five minutes down the road, and pulled over. I miraculously had service and I called my mom and told her everything. She kind of just laughed at me and was like "Many-Patient2894, that obviously wasn't Angela". And joked about me making some poor Icelandic woman feel extremely weird. But based off the guy's reaction when I said her name, her name was Angela, and the way she spoke to me and said sorry and said we couldn't talk, like, she knew me too. I told my mom all of this and I sounded fucking crazy and she just was basically like, "Haha, yeah, weird". I think she thinks I was making up the part about the apology.
I told all of my friends this, when I was still in Iceland, and they all reacted like my mom did. At this point, I had four days left in the country, and I kept wanting to return to the cafe/general store. But I didn't. I started to think maybe the woman thought I was someone else. But then I kept coming back to, but wait, this person was Angela. Her name, her body, her face, like I just didn't know what to do.
This brings me to two days ago, the day before yesterday, when I returned to Canada, where I live. It's eight o'clock in the morning and I'm on my way to work. In my car. Just picked up a coffee. Exhausted. Not thinking about Angela at all. Thinking about my laundry, my bills, what I'm going to make for dinner. The traffic is bad and it's a miserable day outside.
My phone dings. It's a random number. The text reads: "Hey! It's Angela! How was your trip?"
Haven't heard from her in eight years (except for our run-in in Iceland, if indeed it was one). No "how have you been??", no "I miss you!!" no "long time no talk/see!". I also hadn't posted anything about my trip on social media. Unless you were a friend of mine, you didn't know I was there.
I immediately call my mom, who follows Angela on Instagram, and ask her to look at her profile. Sure enough, Angela (not at all to my mother's surprise), is posting stories of the bachelorette party she's at in Miami. She's, like, not at all in Iceland.
I have no idea what's going on. And the way Angela/the woman spoke to me in the cafe had the cadence and softness that Angela had, and in my memory, lost, starting the morning of the skiing after the incident with Trilly and the dog. For some reason I'm fully back there in my memory now, realizing that that was the first morning of "the new Angela", the one that seemed to have no emotional memory of me at all. Like, the Iceland Angela seemed more like the "before" Angela.
I haven't replied to the text. I have no idea if it was bachelorette party Miami Angela or Iceland Angela that sent me the message, the area code is from neither Angela's hometown or Iceland.
I need advice, I have no idea what to do or who to talk to. Do I reply to the text? What do I say? I feel like the real Angela is fucking trapped in Iceland or something and has been for a long time. Or I don't even know. I have no idea what to do.
submitted by Many-Patient2894 to nosleep [link] [comments]
So I (30F) have always been very close to my cousin (30F), let's call her Angela. Because we're the same age, our parents (my mom and her father are siblings) went through all the same stages with us and as such, we were more or less raised like siblings due to how much time our families spent together.
We even had homes in the country in the same township, which is where I think this happened. And I can't really tell my family this because it will make me sound legitimately crazy. And some part of me even doubts this memory, but at the same time I know in my heart that it's true. It's a complicated feeling, and this memory was brought to light last week when my suspicion I've had for years was more or less confirmed.
One winter, sixteen years ago, when Angela and I were both fourteen, both of our families were at our cottages, a twenty minute drive from each other. Angela and her little brother (my cousin, let's call him James) parents (my aunt and uncle) were going skiing one morning, and I wanted to go too. So I spent the night at their cottage, like I often did when we all went up north.
Angela's bedroom had two single beds in it, and James' room was down the hall. The whole house was open concept, so the hall from Angela's room to James' room did not have walls, but rather was bordered by two railings over which you could see down into the main floor, the open concept living and dining rooms.
James is four years younger than us, and when he was 10, he was such a typical little boy/little brother, it's almost cartoonish to look back on. Like, I'm talking *constantly* bothering us, putting a stink bomb on a remote control car that he would sneak into our rooms, trying to read Angela's diary when we weren't in her bedroom, just all the stuff. But never anything cruel or out of the ordinary or sinister, just a massive handful.
The basement of James and Angela's cottage was filled with storage and old toys, and sometimes (on the rare occasion) that we'd willingly play with James, we'd all go down to the basement and try to freak each other out. Anyway, one of the toys in the basement was your typical Raggedy-Ann doll from the 60s or something. I think it belonged to my uncle when he was a kid and then Angela when she was a baby. Her name was Trilly. I forget who named it. Anyway, I have vague memories of playing with it when we were much younger and pretending it was our third cousin or our little daughter. But since then she'd sat in storage in the basement.
But, what great nightmare material! Right?! A creepy, limp, smiling doll. So the night I stayed over, before we went skiing in the morning, James, Angela and I were up to our playing in the basement, and I remember we tried to freak James out by pretending Trilly was alive or something like that. Whatever. Game over, we all had dinner with the parents, then watched a movie as a family and went to bed. James to his room and Angela and me to Angela's room.
Now this is the thing. Angela and I still joke about this night, and she remembers it just like I do, which is why I sort of wrote off my hypothesis until last week. That night, in the middle of the night, I started tossing and turning. I woke up and could tell that Angela was stirring as well. One of us said to the other, "are you awake?" and the other said "yes," and we realized that we both couldn't sleep or were woken up by the same thing or were both just feeling restless. But then, at the other end of her room, Trilly was sitting in the fucking desk chair.
I think it was Angela who pointed it out. We saw a shadow, thinking it was a person, freaked out, and then relaxed briefly when we saw it was just the doll. But then we got freaked out all over again and were like, "why the FUCK is this FUCKING doll in your room!?!?", murderously standing up and going over to it to pick it up and throw it in James' room and pound the living Christ out of him.
We turn on all the lights, turn on the hall light, stomp down the hall into his room and turn on his lights, and see he's not in his bed. We then go downstairs (my aunt and uncle's room was on the main floor), Trilly still in Angela's hands, and hear my aunt and James in the washroom. Turns out James had been sick for the last few hours and my aunt had been up all night with him as he was throwing up in the washroom. And when we saw the scene we immediately could tell that James had nothing to do with Trilly. Like, it was just one of those really believable situations where we could tell James truly had no idea what was going on. We even felt bad for him. And, to top it off, when we told him the story in the morning it scared him so much that he didn't go into the basement for like a year. Anyway, it just seemed really sincere.
So Angela and I went back up to her room and we were like, "are we *sure* we didn't bring this up here last night? Are we sure? We must have." Anyway, while we were really freaked, we figured that it was explainable. We knew the doll obviously didn't walk itself upstairs like it was some horror movie. But, because we were fourteen and all for the drama (and I remember us having the "better safe than sorry" mindset) we called her dog upstairs (Bella, a poorly behaved black poodle). We started playing tug-of-war with Bella, using Trilly as the toy, and eventually Bella ripped her to shreds.
Anyway, funny memory, making the dog rip up the doll, we laughed and thought we were tough and cool, then we went back to bed.
The next morning, instead of all of us going skiing, it was just Me, Angela, and my Uncle, because James stayed home with my aunt on account of his stomach flu. But when we woke up, Angela was acting weird. Nothing too noteable, just really bizarrely quiet as she moved around her room to get her clothes out of her drawers and get changed. She didn't, like, acknowledge me in her room. I said something like "morning" when she didn't acknowledge me, and she looked at me and then turned back to her drawers and kept getting changed.
And she was looking around weirdly, I remember that too. Almost like she'd misplaced something, but a little more dazed than that. Just moving strangely. Then she went downstairs without saying anything to me at all. I thought maybe she was just super groggy... but it still felt really weird.
When I went downstairs, she was standing at the island in the kitchen buttering toast that my uncle had put in for us. I distinctly remember walking up beside her and the toaster, pulling a piece of toast out of it, putting it on the plate that had been set out for me, and when I dipped the knife into the container of butter, Angela smacked my hand away, hard, and looked at me and snapped, "what are you doing? Don't take things that aren't yours". I was shocked. It honestly felt like being struck in the face. She'd never spoken to me like that before, and even though we were like siblings, I still felt that kind of mortifying embarrassment you feel when someone calls you out on misbehaving, even though I wasn't doing anything wrong; but it *was* her family's butter and bread? I don't know. That's what I remember thinking. But it was awkward and weird and I just said, "um, what?" and then she didn't say anything, just kept buttering her toast, and I mumbled some apology.
The three of us then drove to the ski hill and, I kid you not, Angela and I didn't speak the whole way there. I had no idea what was up, but I didn't want to ask with her dad in the car.
Then when we got to the ski hill, we went skiing just the two of us and on the chairlift during the first run I mustered up the courage to say "Hey, did I do something wrong? I feel like you're really mad at me or something". And she turned to look at me and was confused. Not friendly, not warm, not reassuring, but confused. It was almost as if I was a stranger and she looked at me as if to say, "sorry, who are you? why are you talking to me?"
And she responded in a formal way: "Sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about". The distance in her voice was really eerie, and I started to think maybe this had to do with the doll incident the night before and either she was trying to extend the prank, and she was the one who had put the doll on the chair, OR she felt guilty that we ruined this family doll and she resented me for being a part of it. Anyway, when we got to the top of the hill, she skied down quickly and didn't wait for me to go back up again, and we ended up skiing separately.
I felt awkward and embarrassed like I'd done something wrong. I ended up skiing with my uncle who asked me what was up with us, and I just said I didn't know. Then after our day of skiing, he dropped me off at my family's cottage and continued on home with Angela.
For the rest of that whole school year (we were in ninth grade), Angela and I didn't really speak. It was really sad. We were like sisters before, but better because we weren't actually sisters, but cousins, and so we were like best friends that were related. Seriously, we were really close. And it really messed me up, I felt like she just ghosted me. I would text her and call her house but she was always "fine" or "with Jessica" (her best friend). I chalked it up to her just outgrowing me, and it really fucking sucked. But, to be honest, it was so jarring and such a stark shift that I was more confused than hurt. I talked to my mom about it and she explained to me how rough it can be to be a teenage girl.
But that following summer, we were up at our cottages again, and our family had a barbecue and invited over my aunt and uncle and Angela and James. I had seen Angela at family things a couple of times since and she would just kind of ignore me and spend the whole time texting, which is what I expected this time.
Sure enough, that's what happened for the first bit of the barbecue. But then when the food was ready, she came up beside me as we were dressing our hamburgers at the condiment table and said, "oh my god, remember that night we got Bella to ruin Trilly?" and I was so shocked by her friendly tone, by her acting as though she were picking up a conversation we just were having, that I just stared at her and said, "yeah, that was crazy". And she said, "yeah, so funny. Anyway, how've you been?" again, really different and formal. I almost couldn't get past how altered her tone was, like we'd never even met. In fact she seemed so sprightly and kind that I thought she was mocking me.
And our relationship since that barbecue carried on just like that. She started talking to me more, but I'd reference inside jokes or ways we used to be or things we used to do and she never really latched on to any of them. I was caught between thinking she'd outgrown me and thinking she was like embarrassed of our closeness before or something and was trying to move on. I talked to my mom about this, and again got the speech about how teenage girls can be really cruel/strange sometimes.
So until we were about 22, we were like that. Nice to each other, talking sometimes, not that close, and I learned to not try and act like we were all close or that we had been close. I talked to my friends about it too and they said it was normal for friendships to change like that. But something felt off about this. I started to honestly feel crazy for hanging on to this "before" memory of Angela so much.
Then when we were 22, we grew apart. This time, it was mutual and natural. I moved cities, and she got engaged and became a real estate agent and we just had nothing to talk about. It was gradual and I didn't notice it much. Which brings us to eight years later, just last week.
I was travelling in Iceland. I had to be there (very randomly) for a conference/workshop I was leading for work, and turned it into a vacation. Rented a car, decided I was going to drive across the island after the conference was over and stay on the east part and explore a bit.
Day four of my seven-day long road trip. It's mid-afternoon, I'm hungry. I've been driving for three hours and have come across no sign of civilization at all, and it was fifty miles to the next town. But then, voila! A little gas station/general store/cafe! Perfect!
Ah, fuck. I literally can't believe I'm writing this. It makes me sound fucking crazy. But here I go.
I park in the little three-car parking lot. I get out of my car, step onto the gravel, the sky is white, expansive, there are mountains everywhere around me, fields, sheep. The air is fresh. Seriously middle of nowhere. I walk up the wooden rickety steps and push open the door and hear the door chimes go. A man walks out from the back room and greets me, and the place is cute. There's a little handwritten menu above the cash register and I asked him in my pathetic Icelandic/English mix if I could have the gravlax toast. He's very friendly and kind and says yes, asks if I want a coffee, I say yes please, blah blah, he rings me up at the cash register, and I go and sit at the one table they have and wait for my food.
I look around - it's mostly a fishing supplies store with some general groceries. The man opens the door to the room from which he came, the kitchen I suppose, and says the order to the lady in the back who looks like she's doing some prep cooking. Immediately I stop. It's freaking Angela!!!! Or I thought it was.
Now, remember, I hadn't seen Angela in about eight years. Since her dad passed away when we were twenty-three, and because I'd moved cities, we just had no reason to really see each other especially after growing so far apart.
So, like, OH MY GOD, it's Angela! She's working at a random little general store in middle-of-nowhere Iceland! But wait, I thought. No. This is obviously not-fucking-Angela. Angela is a real estate agent in my hometown. I'd obviously know if she lived in Iceland lol. Right? I don't really use social media but the odd time I do, she'll pop up here and there. But I guess not enough for me to *confirm* she still lived in my hometown.
But anyway, she looked enough like Angela that I went right up to the cash register and rang the little bell and the guy came back out and when he opened the door I was able to get another look at her, and my heart skidded. A chill spread across my crown. It was one hundred percent Angela. Like, my full-on cousin. So, looking over the guys' shoulder, RIGHT AT ANGELA, I smile and say, "Angela!! Oh my god!!" and before she could respond, the door shut again.
And the guy at the cash smiled really big, a nice, friendly, smile and he looked surprised as well, and pointed back over his shoulder and then at me, as if to say, "you two know each other?!" which confirmed for me that her name was Angela, because he seemed really delighted at the coincidence. Expecting her to emerge from the kitchen, I walked around to behind the cash register (the invitation was implied by the guy) and he put his arm back to open the door for me, or for Angela, whom we both expected to be making her way over to me, too.
When he opened the door, she was head-down again, chopping vegetables. I walked through the door and said, "Angela? Angela!" smiling, thinking she hadn't seen me yet or realized who I was, all context considered. She looked up at me, and then quickly, as though avoiding my eyes, looked down. "Hey", she said, quietly, at the cutting board.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Before I could ask anything, she said, "I'm really sorry, okay?"
What?
She repeated herself and then continued: "I'm really sorry okay? But we can't talk".
I actually, like, had no clue what was happening. I was looking into the eyes of my cousin whom I hadn't seen in forever in some random fucking shack in Iceland and she was acting skittish and afraid. I opened my mouth to protest and she said, "I need you to leave," then she called the guy's name and said something to him in Icelandic. She can speak Icelandic??!
The guy came in, his demeanour totally different. Almost like he was a bouncer. He gestured to my coffee and toast that were ready to go, took them in his hands and ushered me out of the kitchen and I could tell I no longer was welcome. Either I wasn't welcome or I was in danger, or both. It felt more like the former. And I don't think the guy had any idea what was going on, either. I think she must have said something to him like "I don't know this person, this person is crazy" or something. That's how he was acting toward me.
I got in my car, I drove five minutes down the road, and pulled over. I miraculously had service and I called my mom and told her everything. She kind of just laughed at me and was like "Many-Patient2894, that obviously wasn't Angela". And joked about me making some poor Icelandic woman feel extremely weird. But based off the guy's reaction when I said her name, her name was Angela, and the way she spoke to me and said sorry and said we couldn't talk, like, she knew me too. I told my mom all of this and I sounded fucking crazy and she just was basically like, "Haha, yeah, weird". I think she thinks I was making up the part about the apology.
I told all of my friends this, when I was still in Iceland, and they all reacted like my mom did. At this point, I had four days left in the country, and I kept wanting to return to the cafe/general store. But I didn't. I started to think maybe the woman thought I was someone else. But then I kept coming back to, but wait, this person was Angela. Her name, her body, her face, like I just didn't know what to do.
This brings me to two days ago, the day before yesterday, when I returned to Canada, where I live. It's eight o'clock in the morning and I'm on my way to work. In my car. Just picked up a coffee. Exhausted. Not thinking about Angela at all. Thinking about my laundry, my bills, what I'm going to make for dinner. The traffic is bad and it's a miserable day outside.
My phone dings. It's a random number. The text reads: "Hey! It's Angela! How was your trip?"
Haven't heard from her in eight years (except for our run-in in Iceland, if indeed it was one). No "how have you been??", no "I miss you!!" no "long time no talk/see!". I also hadn't posted anything about my trip on social media. Unless you were a friend of mine, you didn't know I was there.
I immediately call my mom, who follows Angela on Instagram, and ask her to look at her profile. Sure enough, Angela (not at all to my mother's surprise), is posting stories of the bachelorette party she's at in Miami. She's, like, not at all in Iceland.
I have no idea what's going on. And the way Angela/the woman spoke to me in the cafe had the cadence and softness that Angela had, and in my memory, lost, starting the morning of the skiing after the incident with Trilly and the dog. For some reason I'm fully back there in my memory now, realizing that that was the first morning of "the new Angela", the one that seemed to have no emotional memory of me at all. Like, the Iceland Angela seemed more like the "before" Angela.
I haven't replied to the text. I have no idea if it was bachelorette party Miami Angela or Iceland Angela that sent me the message, the area code is from neither Angela's hometown or Iceland.
I need advice, I have no idea what to do or who to talk to. Do I reply to the text? What do I say? I feel like the real Angela is fucking trapped in Iceland or something and has been for a long time. Or I don't even know. I have no idea what to do.
2024.05.14 17:57 Chiarin My Eurovision Journey - 2024 Semi-final 2
I had intended to post this on Friday, but then Joostgate happened, so I decided to wait until all the emotions had died down a bit. For those who missed it (and/or who don't know about the rest of my Journey), here is my post on the first semi. Also, I have restarted my whole Eurovision journey for the second time and am posting the results on my personal blog. If anyone is interested please DM me. I'm not going to post a link here, because I have no desire to openly doxx myself.
Malta I’m sorry to say it, but there were too many girl-bops with overly intricate choreography this year. I don’t dislike this one at all, but qualifying after coming first in a strong semi-final with this was always going to be a tricky thing to pull off.
Albania as ballads go this one has some things making it a little more interesting for me, like that beat dropping after the first verse, but overall it’s still a ballad, so it’s on my middling list at best.
Greece I’ve watched this several times now, and I still haven’t figured out whether I like it or not. She had the worst outfit of the night for me, and I’m too old and out of the social media loop to appreciate that start. That said, I like that Greece has gone for something a little more ethno-boppy this year, and much admiration to Marina for performing like she did while ill.
Switzerland Wow, this is something else. I thought Switzerland had sent their best with Gjon’s Tears a few years back, but here’s Nemo with vocal talent that’s at least as good. In addition to that they manage to do all that while moving around on that tilted platform, making it even more impressive. Lastly, the song is actually pretty damn catchy, so overall I think they absolutely deserved their win, even if I personally favoured Croatia.
Czechia This sounds very much like a nineties indie song, which is not at all a bad thing. Had this been in the first semi it might have qualified, but I think, like Malta, it suffered from being fairly early on in a strong semi.
France Slimane can sing, but this isn’t really my cup of tea. What I do like is that he's kept things simple, because I’m really not a fan of all the flashy staging and over-choreographed dance routines. This is definitely the kind of song where you should just let his voice do the work. I’m glad it ended high, because it’s a good song, even if it’s not for me.
Austria Look, I have absolutely no experience with raves, but this would definitely get me dancing. I don’t know why we now have the second silver bathing suit (does everyone get the same costume designer every year? There always seems to be a theme), but I like the song, even if she’s not the best singer of the night.
Denmark I’m not sure how to describe this? A club anthem-ballad? It’s not bad, but there’s nothing about this that wows me.
Armenia This, this is what wows me. I have a major soft spot for upbeat ethnic music anyway, but Jaklin’s stage presence is through the roof. Couple that with a kick-ass voice and the sheer enthusiastic exuberance she brings, and this might actually be my second favourite song this year. I ended up dividing my votes between this and Croatia.
Latvia With apologies to all you ballad lovers, this makes me fall asleep. Plus I don’t get the blue plastic breastplate either. This was my most shock qualifier of the night, because I find it dull as fuck.
Spain This looks and sounds like a bunch of people trying to relive their 80s youth, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. It’s not amazing, but I do enjoy listening to it.
San Marino My first thought on seeing and hearing this was ‘this is what Ireland might have been if Bambie had held back’. It makes it more listenable to me, but I still can’t really say that I like it. I’m also not a fan of the aggressively pink and black goth look, but I’m the first to admit that I have an unreasonable hatred of the colour pink. Not my thing, sorry.
Georgia Yet another country breaking their NQ streak, woo! Aside from that I’m afraid that this goes onto my ‘okay but no wow’ pile.
Belgium This is terribly underwhelming… Fifty microphones and I still can barely hear him. Plus, power ballad, so not for me.
Estonia For some reason the fact that half of this sounds terribly off-key adds to the charm (and I’ll admit that they sounded much better in the final). I like their silly little dance, and overall I was amused. Definitely not the best song of the night, but it stood out from the rest for all the right reasons.
Italy If I had to describe this in three words, I’d say ‘SloMo in Italian’. This is a good thing, I should say, because I really liked SloMo. Definitely like this one. Also, kudos for having dancers of different body-sizes.
Israel I’m not going to touch on the politics here, but to me this is nothing more than another dull ballad.
Norway I’m as baffled as many others here as to why this ended last in the final, other than that this is Eurovision, and weird things happen. I’m generally not much of a rock fan, but I think this one could grow on me. Don’t be discouraged, Norway, there are plenty of people who loved this!
Netherlands Words cannot express how fucking proud I am of my country for sending this to Eurovision. I have not loved a Dutch entry this much since 2014, and I’m absolutely heartbroken that it got disqualified. This is simply the most Eurovision song you could possibly imagine, and I hope that we get proper (dis)closure soon on what actually happened. I’m personally inclined to believe the statement from Avrotros, because as many others have pointed out, it’s their reputation on the line as well if they back their artist, and in that case a DQ was absolutely disproportionate. This is without a doubt my favourite song of 2024, and as a Dutchie living in the UK I’d have voted the fuck out of it.
That's it for this year, back to (mostly) lurking for me...
submitted by Chiarin to eurovision [link] [comments]
Malta I’m sorry to say it, but there were too many girl-bops with overly intricate choreography this year. I don’t dislike this one at all, but qualifying after coming first in a strong semi-final with this was always going to be a tricky thing to pull off.
Albania as ballads go this one has some things making it a little more interesting for me, like that beat dropping after the first verse, but overall it’s still a ballad, so it’s on my middling list at best.
Greece I’ve watched this several times now, and I still haven’t figured out whether I like it or not. She had the worst outfit of the night for me, and I’m too old and out of the social media loop to appreciate that start. That said, I like that Greece has gone for something a little more ethno-boppy this year, and much admiration to Marina for performing like she did while ill.
Switzerland Wow, this is something else. I thought Switzerland had sent their best with Gjon’s Tears a few years back, but here’s Nemo with vocal talent that’s at least as good. In addition to that they manage to do all that while moving around on that tilted platform, making it even more impressive. Lastly, the song is actually pretty damn catchy, so overall I think they absolutely deserved their win, even if I personally favoured Croatia.
Czechia This sounds very much like a nineties indie song, which is not at all a bad thing. Had this been in the first semi it might have qualified, but I think, like Malta, it suffered from being fairly early on in a strong semi.
France Slimane can sing, but this isn’t really my cup of tea. What I do like is that he's kept things simple, because I’m really not a fan of all the flashy staging and over-choreographed dance routines. This is definitely the kind of song where you should just let his voice do the work. I’m glad it ended high, because it’s a good song, even if it’s not for me.
Austria Look, I have absolutely no experience with raves, but this would definitely get me dancing. I don’t know why we now have the second silver bathing suit (does everyone get the same costume designer every year? There always seems to be a theme), but I like the song, even if she’s not the best singer of the night.
Denmark I’m not sure how to describe this? A club anthem-ballad? It’s not bad, but there’s nothing about this that wows me.
Armenia This, this is what wows me. I have a major soft spot for upbeat ethnic music anyway, but Jaklin’s stage presence is through the roof. Couple that with a kick-ass voice and the sheer enthusiastic exuberance she brings, and this might actually be my second favourite song this year. I ended up dividing my votes between this and Croatia.
Latvia With apologies to all you ballad lovers, this makes me fall asleep. Plus I don’t get the blue plastic breastplate either. This was my most shock qualifier of the night, because I find it dull as fuck.
Spain This looks and sounds like a bunch of people trying to relive their 80s youth, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. It’s not amazing, but I do enjoy listening to it.
San Marino My first thought on seeing and hearing this was ‘this is what Ireland might have been if Bambie had held back’. It makes it more listenable to me, but I still can’t really say that I like it. I’m also not a fan of the aggressively pink and black goth look, but I’m the first to admit that I have an unreasonable hatred of the colour pink. Not my thing, sorry.
Georgia Yet another country breaking their NQ streak, woo! Aside from that I’m afraid that this goes onto my ‘okay but no wow’ pile.
Belgium This is terribly underwhelming… Fifty microphones and I still can barely hear him. Plus, power ballad, so not for me.
Estonia For some reason the fact that half of this sounds terribly off-key adds to the charm (and I’ll admit that they sounded much better in the final). I like their silly little dance, and overall I was amused. Definitely not the best song of the night, but it stood out from the rest for all the right reasons.
Italy If I had to describe this in three words, I’d say ‘SloMo in Italian’. This is a good thing, I should say, because I really liked SloMo. Definitely like this one. Also, kudos for having dancers of different body-sizes.
Israel I’m not going to touch on the politics here, but to me this is nothing more than another dull ballad.
Norway I’m as baffled as many others here as to why this ended last in the final, other than that this is Eurovision, and weird things happen. I’m generally not much of a rock fan, but I think this one could grow on me. Don’t be discouraged, Norway, there are plenty of people who loved this!
Netherlands Words cannot express how fucking proud I am of my country for sending this to Eurovision. I have not loved a Dutch entry this much since 2014, and I’m absolutely heartbroken that it got disqualified. This is simply the most Eurovision song you could possibly imagine, and I hope that we get proper (dis)closure soon on what actually happened. I’m personally inclined to believe the statement from Avrotros, because as many others have pointed out, it’s their reputation on the line as well if they back their artist, and in that case a DQ was absolutely disproportionate. This is without a doubt my favourite song of 2024, and as a Dutchie living in the UK I’d have voted the fuck out of it.
That's it for this year, back to (mostly) lurking for me...
2024.05.14 17:54 hoggersbridge Engines of Arachnea: A Science Fantasy Epic (Chapter 16: The Leapers)
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
He was back at Smiley’s taproom with a petite brunette dangling from his arm, the young signal operator whose acquaintance he’d made while assigned as a liaison officer with the Exploratory Corps. There he was, all big and stiff in his brand-new dress uniform, trying desperately to impress someone who was astronomically more attractive than him and making a priceless ass of himself.
“So,” she purred, eyeing him over the rim of her glass, “Tell me again about the surface. What’s it like wandering up there above all us wee mortals?”
“Erm,” Rene cleared his throat, feeling a hot flush creeping up his reddening neck, “It’s, uh, quite remarkable really. Simply fantastic.”
Having run out of things to say, Rene took a snootful of his drink in an attempt to sharpen his wits. It was so hard to focus with her hanging onto his every word like this.
“Ooh, you make it sound so exciting,” Deborah had tittered. Or was it Devorah? Her name had gotten lost in the fumes of fermented honeydew clouding up his brain. Perhaps another sip would jog his memory. Rene downed the horrid swill and coughed as it burned its way down his throat and up his nostrils.
“Would you look at the state of him!” someone guffawed, slapping Rene on the back, “Cool as cucumbers under fire when there’s a hundred dirty Amits breathing down our necks, but prop him up next to a lass and he goes completely to pieces.”
“Ah, piss off,” Rene said fondly. He turned to see Lethway sitting next to him flanked by two buxom blondes, an Amit axe buried deep in his neck.
“I’m only saying. You’ve got to keep your head on your shoulders, man,” Lethway said, as his own tumbled off sideways and hung on by a flap of gristle, “We’ve got a long night ahead of us with our fine lady friends here. It wouldn’t do for you to be sleeping on the job.’
“Why, Lethie my dearest. I’m sure Mr. Louvoture has the…stamina…to keep up,” the brunette said demurely, batting her eyelids at Rene, “Go on. You were telling me about how amazing it is up there.”
“Yes,” Rene puffed out his cheeks and marshalled his scattered thoughts, “It’s like this, see…how can I put it? Words can hardy do it justice.”
“Try me,” Deborah/Devorah said, tugging at his arm with her warm hands. The girl was practically throwing herself at him no matter how badly he was fumbling the ball. Rene my lad, if you don’t make it tonight you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life, Rene thought to himself.
“Alrighty then,” Rene said, deciding to risk everything by gaze deep into her eyes, which if the romance novels were to be believed, were windows into a woman’s soul. She had very pretty irises, all velvety and shining with something bordering on hero-worship.
“When you’re topside and the suns go down beyond the hills, and the clouds weep tears of crimson as the sky rolls over into a bowl of stars holding all the universe above you, it feels like…like…” Rene trailed off.
“What?” she whispered into the hush that had settled over the bar.
“Well, it feels a little like this,” Rene said softly, leaning in for a kiss. Her lips tasted his, the tip of her tongue quivering with longing. She drew him into her embrace, gripping him around the waist and pressing into him.
Awfully forward, these girls from Mound Sierra, Rene thought with some alarm. Not that he was complaining. They spent an eternity entwined like this, the whole taproom cheering and egging them on.
“Woof!” Rene broke away to catch his breath, “Is it me, or is it getting hard to breathe in here?”
“Shut up and kiss me again,” Devorah/Deborah said impatiently, wrapping a leg around his and holding him tight. Rene put a hand on her thigh and found that she was surprisingly hairy for a girl. Feeling a little repulsed at this he tried to peel himself away, but found that he couldn’t move any of his limbs.
“Mmph. Hmmgh!” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her insistent mouth. He cocked an eyebrow over her shoulder at Lethway, who’d just propped his head back up onto its stump.
“Cheers, big fellow!” Lethway tipped a glass in his direction and downed his glass in one gulp, the drink trickling out of him through a large bullet hole in his chest.
“I hate it when that happens,” Lethway said, staring sadly at it. He looked back up at Rene and said: “Oy! What did I tell you about falling asleep on the job. Isn’t it about time you got moving, trooper?”
“Not yet,” Devorah/Deborah sighed, kissing his neck, “First he has to tell me how much he likes my eyes. You do like my eyes, don’t you?”
“Why, of course darling—” Rene began. But then she pulled back to look him in face, and the words curdled and died on his lips.
Gone was the petite brunette in her oh-so-short skirt, replaced by a furry, many-eyed freak with quivering mouthparts. In an instant Smiley’s taproom was torn away to reveal the awful truth of his current circumstances: he was hanging upside down from a tree and caught in monster’s deadly embrace. He was trussed up by his legs which had gone completely numb, and his wrists were bound together by loops of silk that felt as strong as steel chains. Yelling incoherently, Rene started wriggling like a worm on a hook. The creature tightened its hold and pressed its fangs against his throat, delicately avoiding piercing the skin while looking at him through its row of eyes.
It was a warning. Rene wisely heeded it and stopped struggling. After a long moment the monster let him go, although they both continued to dangle upside down. Rene stared at its face in horrid fascination. He saw now that it had four eyes on its flat, squarish face, the centermost pair dwarfing the two ancillary ones on either side of them. In the place of a lower jaw it had four vertical mouthparts, the shorter ones in the middle tipped with curved fangs while the rest functioned like antennae, moving constantly with little taps and clicks, its grotesque head nodding along with them.
Rene thought the motion was reminiscent of a person’s lips as they mumbled, and he had a disturbing suspicion that the monster was trying to talk to him. The fact that he was still alive also lent credence to this theory. After all, if Amits were intelligent lifeforms, why couldn’t this one be as well? Hoping against hope, he stammered out:
“I—I don’t understand. I’m afraid I can’t speak your language. Haven’t got the equipment for it. See?”
Rene bared his teeth at it in a forced smile, tying show it what he meant. But the monster recoiled from him, pushing off the trunk behind him and leaping back some twenty meters away from him. It alighted on a tangle of creeper vines and hung there in all its awful majesty, eyeing Rene through its four unblinking orbs. It had ten appendages including its stubby antennae, each of them ending in a three-clawed hand. Its shoulder and thigh muscles were enormous, though its potbellied torso was as round as a wagon wheel, sporting a disgusting hump of flesh on its back. No doubt it contained even more musculature to support its powerful limbs, which at the moment were bunched up and ready to spring.
He had startled it, Rene realized. His own mouth was probably just as alien and repulsive to its sensibilities as its physiology was to him. Before he could derive some small satisfaction from that, more of the monsters emerged to join the first, darting out of the shadows with an unnatural, jittery motion. They moved in stops and starts, periods of immobility interrupted by burst of blinding speed, here one moment and gone the next.
“It shpeaksh…” Rene heard someone say in a voice somewhere between a dry croak and the gurgling of a water pipe. Rene looked around for the source of the voice and was shocked to find that it was issuing from the largest monster, the one reclining on the vines like some misshapen ape. He couldn’t believe his own ears. It was speaking Fleet cantish, mangling its way through the words somehow despite the total absence of a jawbone.
“Gallivant?” another queried with clearer pronunciation.
“No blade-wing, thish,” the leader clicked its palps thoughtfully, “Too shoft. Too schtupid. Came from the fire giant. Dropped a sheed pod, it did, like a tree in the wind. The sheed shpun a web and floated. Down, down, down.”
“Shoft like a grub,” agreed the smallest monster somewhat belatedly. A frothy substance with the consistency of saliva dripped from its fangs. It took a step towards Rene, stiffening all over. Before he could even blink it had launched itself through the air directly at him. In the same instant the leader also leapt, slamming bodily into its subordinate and throwing it to the ground.
“No,” the leader rasped, letting the other monster limp away having been suitably chastised, “Questions firshht. The fire giant. Are you itsh hatchling?”
It was staring at Rene when it said this. Rene thought quickly. It was a binary question and he felt that his life hung in the balance, the odds being even either way. Heads or tails? From what he’d heard it was clear that the only thing keeping him from lining the stomachs of these monsters was their abiding curiosity. They had witnessed the Divine Engine and his impromptu ejection from it, and they were under the impression that it had been a living thing and that he was its offspring. It followed that the best thing to do was to maintain their interest in him for as long as possible while he thought of an escape plan. Heads it was, then. Rene said:
“Yes. Yes, I am its ‘hatchling’.”
He glanced around until he found his sword where he had left it leaning against the buttress root, still in its sheathe next to the survival kit. If he could just reach down and grasp it in his hands…
“Good,” said the abomination, “And know you the secret of itsh power?”
“Of course,” Rene said, slowly and surreptitiously stretching out his arms, reaching for the sword hilt with all his might.
“Good, good,” the abomination crooned. There was a blur of motion and the leader materialized in front of him, their faces inches apart. It seized him by the hairs and yanked him close.
“Then I, too, will know its inner workingshh. Once I open your head and drink deep from your mind.”
Should have gone with tails, Rene thought as it lunged for him.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
submitted by hoggersbridge to HFY [link] [comments]
He was back at Smiley’s taproom with a petite brunette dangling from his arm, the young signal operator whose acquaintance he’d made while assigned as a liaison officer with the Exploratory Corps. There he was, all big and stiff in his brand-new dress uniform, trying desperately to impress someone who was astronomically more attractive than him and making a priceless ass of himself.
“So,” she purred, eyeing him over the rim of her glass, “Tell me again about the surface. What’s it like wandering up there above all us wee mortals?”
“Erm,” Rene cleared his throat, feeling a hot flush creeping up his reddening neck, “It’s, uh, quite remarkable really. Simply fantastic.”
Having run out of things to say, Rene took a snootful of his drink in an attempt to sharpen his wits. It was so hard to focus with her hanging onto his every word like this.
“Ooh, you make it sound so exciting,” Deborah had tittered. Or was it Devorah? Her name had gotten lost in the fumes of fermented honeydew clouding up his brain. Perhaps another sip would jog his memory. Rene downed the horrid swill and coughed as it burned its way down his throat and up his nostrils.
“Would you look at the state of him!” someone guffawed, slapping Rene on the back, “Cool as cucumbers under fire when there’s a hundred dirty Amits breathing down our necks, but prop him up next to a lass and he goes completely to pieces.”
“Ah, piss off,” Rene said fondly. He turned to see Lethway sitting next to him flanked by two buxom blondes, an Amit axe buried deep in his neck.
“I’m only saying. You’ve got to keep your head on your shoulders, man,” Lethway said, as his own tumbled off sideways and hung on by a flap of gristle, “We’ve got a long night ahead of us with our fine lady friends here. It wouldn’t do for you to be sleeping on the job.’
“Why, Lethie my dearest. I’m sure Mr. Louvoture has the…stamina…to keep up,” the brunette said demurely, batting her eyelids at Rene, “Go on. You were telling me about how amazing it is up there.”
“Yes,” Rene puffed out his cheeks and marshalled his scattered thoughts, “It’s like this, see…how can I put it? Words can hardy do it justice.”
“Try me,” Deborah/Devorah said, tugging at his arm with her warm hands. The girl was practically throwing herself at him no matter how badly he was fumbling the ball. Rene my lad, if you don’t make it tonight you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life, Rene thought to himself.
“Alrighty then,” Rene said, deciding to risk everything by gaze deep into her eyes, which if the romance novels were to be believed, were windows into a woman’s soul. She had very pretty irises, all velvety and shining with something bordering on hero-worship.
“When you’re topside and the suns go down beyond the hills, and the clouds weep tears of crimson as the sky rolls over into a bowl of stars holding all the universe above you, it feels like…like…” Rene trailed off.
“What?” she whispered into the hush that had settled over the bar.
“Well, it feels a little like this,” Rene said softly, leaning in for a kiss. Her lips tasted his, the tip of her tongue quivering with longing. She drew him into her embrace, gripping him around the waist and pressing into him.
Awfully forward, these girls from Mound Sierra, Rene thought with some alarm. Not that he was complaining. They spent an eternity entwined like this, the whole taproom cheering and egging them on.
“Woof!” Rene broke away to catch his breath, “Is it me, or is it getting hard to breathe in here?”
“Shut up and kiss me again,” Devorah/Deborah said impatiently, wrapping a leg around his and holding him tight. Rene put a hand on her thigh and found that she was surprisingly hairy for a girl. Feeling a little repulsed at this he tried to peel himself away, but found that he couldn’t move any of his limbs.
“Mmph. Hmmgh!” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her insistent mouth. He cocked an eyebrow over her shoulder at Lethway, who’d just propped his head back up onto its stump.
“Cheers, big fellow!” Lethway tipped a glass in his direction and downed his glass in one gulp, the drink trickling out of him through a large bullet hole in his chest.
“I hate it when that happens,” Lethway said, staring sadly at it. He looked back up at Rene and said: “Oy! What did I tell you about falling asleep on the job. Isn’t it about time you got moving, trooper?”
“Not yet,” Devorah/Deborah sighed, kissing his neck, “First he has to tell me how much he likes my eyes. You do like my eyes, don’t you?”
“Why, of course darling—” Rene began. But then she pulled back to look him in face, and the words curdled and died on his lips.
Gone was the petite brunette in her oh-so-short skirt, replaced by a furry, many-eyed freak with quivering mouthparts. In an instant Smiley’s taproom was torn away to reveal the awful truth of his current circumstances: he was hanging upside down from a tree and caught in monster’s deadly embrace. He was trussed up by his legs which had gone completely numb, and his wrists were bound together by loops of silk that felt as strong as steel chains. Yelling incoherently, Rene started wriggling like a worm on a hook. The creature tightened its hold and pressed its fangs against his throat, delicately avoiding piercing the skin while looking at him through its row of eyes.
It was a warning. Rene wisely heeded it and stopped struggling. After a long moment the monster let him go, although they both continued to dangle upside down. Rene stared at its face in horrid fascination. He saw now that it had four eyes on its flat, squarish face, the centermost pair dwarfing the two ancillary ones on either side of them. In the place of a lower jaw it had four vertical mouthparts, the shorter ones in the middle tipped with curved fangs while the rest functioned like antennae, moving constantly with little taps and clicks, its grotesque head nodding along with them.
Rene thought the motion was reminiscent of a person’s lips as they mumbled, and he had a disturbing suspicion that the monster was trying to talk to him. The fact that he was still alive also lent credence to this theory. After all, if Amits were intelligent lifeforms, why couldn’t this one be as well? Hoping against hope, he stammered out:
“I—I don’t understand. I’m afraid I can’t speak your language. Haven’t got the equipment for it. See?”
Rene bared his teeth at it in a forced smile, tying show it what he meant. But the monster recoiled from him, pushing off the trunk behind him and leaping back some twenty meters away from him. It alighted on a tangle of creeper vines and hung there in all its awful majesty, eyeing Rene through its four unblinking orbs. It had ten appendages including its stubby antennae, each of them ending in a three-clawed hand. Its shoulder and thigh muscles were enormous, though its potbellied torso was as round as a wagon wheel, sporting a disgusting hump of flesh on its back. No doubt it contained even more musculature to support its powerful limbs, which at the moment were bunched up and ready to spring.
He had startled it, Rene realized. His own mouth was probably just as alien and repulsive to its sensibilities as its physiology was to him. Before he could derive some small satisfaction from that, more of the monsters emerged to join the first, darting out of the shadows with an unnatural, jittery motion. They moved in stops and starts, periods of immobility interrupted by burst of blinding speed, here one moment and gone the next.
“It shpeaksh…” Rene heard someone say in a voice somewhere between a dry croak and the gurgling of a water pipe. Rene looked around for the source of the voice and was shocked to find that it was issuing from the largest monster, the one reclining on the vines like some misshapen ape. He couldn’t believe his own ears. It was speaking Fleet cantish, mangling its way through the words somehow despite the total absence of a jawbone.
“Gallivant?” another queried with clearer pronunciation.
“No blade-wing, thish,” the leader clicked its palps thoughtfully, “Too shoft. Too schtupid. Came from the fire giant. Dropped a sheed pod, it did, like a tree in the wind. The sheed shpun a web and floated. Down, down, down.”
“Shoft like a grub,” agreed the smallest monster somewhat belatedly. A frothy substance with the consistency of saliva dripped from its fangs. It took a step towards Rene, stiffening all over. Before he could even blink it had launched itself through the air directly at him. In the same instant the leader also leapt, slamming bodily into its subordinate and throwing it to the ground.
“No,” the leader rasped, letting the other monster limp away having been suitably chastised, “Questions firshht. The fire giant. Are you itsh hatchling?”
It was staring at Rene when it said this. Rene thought quickly. It was a binary question and he felt that his life hung in the balance, the odds being even either way. Heads or tails? From what he’d heard it was clear that the only thing keeping him from lining the stomachs of these monsters was their abiding curiosity. They had witnessed the Divine Engine and his impromptu ejection from it, and they were under the impression that it had been a living thing and that he was its offspring. It followed that the best thing to do was to maintain their interest in him for as long as possible while he thought of an escape plan. Heads it was, then. Rene said:
“Yes. Yes, I am its ‘hatchling’.”
He glanced around until he found his sword where he had left it leaning against the buttress root, still in its sheathe next to the survival kit. If he could just reach down and grasp it in his hands…
“Good,” said the abomination, “And know you the secret of itsh power?”
“Of course,” Rene said, slowly and surreptitiously stretching out his arms, reaching for the sword hilt with all his might.
“Good, good,” the abomination crooned. There was a blur of motion and the leader materialized in front of him, their faces inches apart. It seized him by the hairs and yanked him close.
“Then I, too, will know its inner workingshh. Once I open your head and drink deep from your mind.”
Should have gone with tails, Rene thought as it lunged for him.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
2024.05.14 17:54 igreggreene Barron Read-Along 25: “Jaws of Saturn”
Barron, Laird. “Jaws of Saturn.” The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All. Night Shade Books, 2013.
Franco is a bodyguard/enforcer for millionaire Jacob Wilson and is no stranger to intimidation, violence, and murder. He ferrets out Wary’s number and rings him up. Wary dismisses Franco contemptuously over the phone (“You sound like an oaf, a knuckle dragger.”) so Franco breaks into his apartment where he confronts the old man about making moves on Carol under the guise of therapeutic mesmerism. Phil Wary is both sardonically condescending and oddly patient with Franco, giving him more than one opportunity to walk away. But Franco is consumed with (perhaps nurses) his jealousy and strikes Wary across the face with a belt, ordering him to stay away from his girlfriend. Franco’s action does not have the intended effect. Wary shakes off the blows and effortlessly subdues Franco.
Wary stows the bound Franco in a closet, on tiptoes with a belt tightened around his neck, and leaves the door ajar so he can watch as Carol enters for her hypnosis session. Something’s wrong about the closet: he can’t see its ceiling. The dimension of height goes up and up into darkness. Franco struggles to maintain consciousness and can only watch as Wary entrances Carol then guides her to his apartment wall where he pulls back a flap of old wallpaper and has her look through a hole at… Franco doesn’t know what she could possibly be seeing other than the back lot of the Broadsword. Wary releases Carol from the trance and sends her on her way. Now Wary leads Franco to the wall, telling him, “All this flesh is but a projection. We are the dream of something greater and more dreadful than you could imagine. To gaze into the abyss is to recognize the dreamer and in recognition, to wake.” He forces Franco’s eye against the hole in the wall. Franco passes out. When he comes to, he receives a call on Wary’s phone from his boss Jacob Wilson, who fires him on the spot. Wary offers tepid consolation before ejecting Franco into the hall. Franco suddenly wakes in Carol’s bed, screaming.
Franco and Carol’s nightmares intensify as the boundary between dreaming and waking life erodes. Their nightmares increasingly feature familiar locations distended into cyclopean dimensions, and threats from above - at first tendrils descending from the sky, then the hand of a giant. In desperation, Franco returns to the Broadsword, packing his pistol, but the opportunity to kill Phil Wary has passed if it truly ever existed. He has a vision of Carol in the vaulted hotel lobby and, above them, Wary - now a colossus like the titan Saturn in de Goya’s famous painting - towers above them. The giant picks up Franco and raises him to its face - but Franco “had a long, agonizing moment to recognize his own face mirrored by the primordial aspect of the giant.” Franco is devoured.
There’s a brief coda where Franco (?) wakes, a giant in an ancient or future world, and is joined by his titanic lover. Together they loom over “all the tiny houses and all the tiny works of men.”
My subconsciousness giggles. Pwned again.
All this to say: it’s disconcerting when the line between dreaming and waking consciousness breaks down, which is what’s happening for Franco and Carol, and at a scale that defies Euclidian geometry.
In fact, Franco’s experience is like stumbling onto the Devil’s Narnia. The closet in Phil Wary’s apartment - like C.S. Lewis’ coat-filled wardrobe - opens onto an impossibly large dimension, one lighted not by a snow-strewn lamppost but a hideous red light. For both Franco and Carol, the gulf between dreams and waking reality is melting away. The dreaminess/nightmarishness doesn’t make their experiences of this other (truer?) world any less real. Again, the occultist tells Franco, “We are the dream of something greater and more dreadful than you could imagine. To gaze into the abyss is to recognize the dreamer and in recognition, to wake.”
In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie children’s true identity is revealed as the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve. Franco and Carol’s journey in “Jaws of Saturn” makes them a kind of Adam and Eve, but of a titanic cast. Their early sex scene shows Franco on the verge of an atavistic state, nearly unbridled from the abstraction that is modern human consciousness. The knowledge he seeks - what is Wary doing to Carol? - opens the door on a transformation that grounds him, bringing him closer to the true, perilous state of being alive, an atavistic state that finds its ultimate form as a titan in the post-civilization world of the coda. And herein we see a common journey for the Barronic hero: the search for Cursed Knowledge begins the Unraveling/Unveiling of Reality culminating in a Hideous Fate which leads to one’s Ultimate Form. (Note: Laird has a story titled "Don't Make Me Assume My Ultimate Form.”)
As I write this, my daughter has just called me from DC, upset by terrible dreams of a book that looks like the Bible, but it’s not the Bible, and our cat Izzy who died a few weeks ago has returned, but she keeps fading in and out of view. In her dream, my daughter is scared to get on an elevator because she’s on roller skates and the people in the building say the elevator is really slow, but the doors open, she gets in and the elevator moves so fast she’s floating. When it stops, the doors open onto a garden filled with people who want her to read a passage from the book that’s not the Bible: it’s Zanderthonis, book 2, chapter 3. And she keeps trying to wake up from the dream so she can tell someone about it but she can’t escape the building.
All this to say: Watch out, friends. The dreams, they’re catching.
Connections to other stories:
submitted by igreggreene to LairdBarron [link] [comments]
Summary
Carol is Franco’s girl, and when he learns a two-bit stage magician is practicing hypnotism on her, Franco goes to pay the old man a visit. But Phil Wary is no mere purveyor of parlor tricks. The line between dreams and waking, between our reality and one of monstrous dimensions, erodes, as Franco and Carol find themselves ground to bits between the “Jaws of Saturn.”Characters
- Franco - a private security attache and enforcer. Well groomed, well read, well armed.
- Carol - Franco’s lover and resident of The Broadsword Hotel.
- Phil Wary - an elderly resident of The Broadsword and career stage magician; also a powerful practitioner of the Black Arts.
Story
In the lounge of the Broadsword Hotel, Carol tells Franco of a dream she had of her former lover Marvin Cortez. Franco tries to explain it away as mere messages from her subconscious, but he’s also jealous. In her room, they engage in vigorous sex and Franco observes that, for a moment, one of her irises is inhumanly oblong. He doesn’t know what to make of this and presses Carol on her current state of mind, especially her recent weird dreams. She admits she’s been visiting old Phil Wary in his apartment upstairs, paying him for hypnosis sessions to help kick her smoking habit. That’s all Franco needs to know. This old sheister is trying to get into Carol’s pants and he’s screwing with her head. He’ll pay Phil Wary a visit. But first, he falls asleep and dreams of lovely, voluptuous Carol standing frozen in the Broadsword lobby as a shadow of “colossal dimensions” looms over her.Franco is a bodyguard/enforcer for millionaire Jacob Wilson and is no stranger to intimidation, violence, and murder. He ferrets out Wary’s number and rings him up. Wary dismisses Franco contemptuously over the phone (“You sound like an oaf, a knuckle dragger.”) so Franco breaks into his apartment where he confronts the old man about making moves on Carol under the guise of therapeutic mesmerism. Phil Wary is both sardonically condescending and oddly patient with Franco, giving him more than one opportunity to walk away. But Franco is consumed with (perhaps nurses) his jealousy and strikes Wary across the face with a belt, ordering him to stay away from his girlfriend. Franco’s action does not have the intended effect. Wary shakes off the blows and effortlessly subdues Franco.
Wary stows the bound Franco in a closet, on tiptoes with a belt tightened around his neck, and leaves the door ajar so he can watch as Carol enters for her hypnosis session. Something’s wrong about the closet: he can’t see its ceiling. The dimension of height goes up and up into darkness. Franco struggles to maintain consciousness and can only watch as Wary entrances Carol then guides her to his apartment wall where he pulls back a flap of old wallpaper and has her look through a hole at… Franco doesn’t know what she could possibly be seeing other than the back lot of the Broadsword. Wary releases Carol from the trance and sends her on her way. Now Wary leads Franco to the wall, telling him, “All this flesh is but a projection. We are the dream of something greater and more dreadful than you could imagine. To gaze into the abyss is to recognize the dreamer and in recognition, to wake.” He forces Franco’s eye against the hole in the wall. Franco passes out. When he comes to, he receives a call on Wary’s phone from his boss Jacob Wilson, who fires him on the spot. Wary offers tepid consolation before ejecting Franco into the hall. Franco suddenly wakes in Carol’s bed, screaming.
Franco and Carol’s nightmares intensify as the boundary between dreaming and waking life erodes. Their nightmares increasingly feature familiar locations distended into cyclopean dimensions, and threats from above - at first tendrils descending from the sky, then the hand of a giant. In desperation, Franco returns to the Broadsword, packing his pistol, but the opportunity to kill Phil Wary has passed if it truly ever existed. He has a vision of Carol in the vaulted hotel lobby and, above them, Wary - now a colossus like the titan Saturn in de Goya’s famous painting - towers above them. The giant picks up Franco and raises him to its face - but Franco “had a long, agonizing moment to recognize his own face mirrored by the primordial aspect of the giant.” Franco is devoured.
There’s a brief coda where Franco (?) wakes, a giant in an ancient or future world, and is joined by his titanic lover. Together they loom over “all the tiny houses and all the tiny works of men.”
Analysis
As I write this, I have just woken from a dream. In the dream, I am asleep and dreaming of looking at a reproduction toy catalog and, sure enough, there are three pages of the old Micronauts toy line with which I am still obsessed. I wonder if these toys will ever be reissued. Then I wake up. There’s a book at the far end of the bed. It’s out of reach and I’m still sleepy and don’t want to stretch to grab it. I wonder, as I so often have: if I focus on that book and believe that waking reality is mine to shape as I do in dreams, can I make that book really leap into my hand? I do, and it does! I double-check to be sure I’m really awake. Yes - yes, I’m awake! This is finally, really happening! I try it again, pulling a rock from the ground through telekinesis. It’s easy. I have come into my own, a demigod among men. Then I wake up, for real this time.My subconsciousness giggles. Pwned again.
All this to say: it’s disconcerting when the line between dreaming and waking consciousness breaks down, which is what’s happening for Franco and Carol, and at a scale that defies Euclidian geometry.
In fact, Franco’s experience is like stumbling onto the Devil’s Narnia. The closet in Phil Wary’s apartment - like C.S. Lewis’ coat-filled wardrobe - opens onto an impossibly large dimension, one lighted not by a snow-strewn lamppost but a hideous red light. For both Franco and Carol, the gulf between dreams and waking reality is melting away. The dreaminess/nightmarishness doesn’t make their experiences of this other (truer?) world any less real. Again, the occultist tells Franco, “We are the dream of something greater and more dreadful than you could imagine. To gaze into the abyss is to recognize the dreamer and in recognition, to wake.”
In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie children’s true identity is revealed as the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve. Franco and Carol’s journey in “Jaws of Saturn” makes them a kind of Adam and Eve, but of a titanic cast. Their early sex scene shows Franco on the verge of an atavistic state, nearly unbridled from the abstraction that is modern human consciousness. The knowledge he seeks - what is Wary doing to Carol? - opens the door on a transformation that grounds him, bringing him closer to the true, perilous state of being alive, an atavistic state that finds its ultimate form as a titan in the post-civilization world of the coda. And herein we see a common journey for the Barronic hero: the search for Cursed Knowledge begins the Unraveling/Unveiling of Reality culminating in a Hideous Fate which leads to one’s Ultimate Form. (Note: Laird has a story titled "Don't Make Me Assume My Ultimate Form.”)
As I write this, my daughter has just called me from DC, upset by terrible dreams of a book that looks like the Bible, but it’s not the Bible, and our cat Izzy who died a few weeks ago has returned, but she keeps fading in and out of view. In her dream, my daughter is scared to get on an elevator because she’s on roller skates and the people in the building say the elevator is really slow, but the doors open, she gets in and the elevator moves so fast she’s floating. When it stops, the doors open onto a garden filled with people who want her to read a passage from the book that’s not the Bible: it’s Zanderthonis, book 2, chapter 3. And she keeps trying to wake up from the dream so she can tell someone about it but she can’t escape the building.
All this to say: Watch out, friends. The dreams, they’re catching.
Connections to other stories:
- The setting of “Jaws of Saturn” is the Broadsword Hotel, seen previously in “The Broadsword.”
- Carol’s former lover is Marvin Cortez, protagonist of “The Imago Sequence.” She mentions him to Franco, and Franco knows who he is. Franco works for Jacob Wilson, nephew of Teddy Wilson whose disappearance is mentioned in “The Imago Sequence.”
- “Hand of Glory” - Phil Wary - under his pseudonym Helios Augustus - sets Johnny Cope on the trail of Conrad Paxton.
- It’s not insignificant that “Jaws of Saturn” clearly ties together the transhumanism stories of The Imago Sequence to the Old Leech stories of Occultation by placing Franco’s and Carol’s conversation about Marvin Cortez in the Broadsword Hotel where Pershing Dennard ran afoul of the Children of Old Leech.
Discussion
- What did Franco see through the hole in the wall in Phil Wary’s apartment?
- What’s the significance of Saturn, and specifically the de Goya painting of Saturn eating his children?
- Did I miss connections to any other Laird Barron story?
- Which Broadsword resident has the worse fate? Pershing Dennard (“The Broadsword”) or Franco (“Jaws of Saturn”)?
- Which other Barronic heroes undergo the ordeal of Cursed Knowledge > Unveiling Reality > Hideous Fate > Ultimate Form?
2024.05.14 17:34 SoyaAzashiro cut somone off for being toxic, now im dating his ex and hes not happy about it at all 😭🙏
I cut ties with my friend of 4 years because I comfronted him about his problem with cheating on all the girls he was in relationships with. I guess his "good looks" and money got to his head because he wasnt always like this. He constantly brags about pulling any girl he wants and OPENLY says that he only dates them for their body and looks which understandably makes me and others uncomfortable. Another reason why I cut ties with him is because through my girlfriend, I found out that during those nights where I feel very down and suicidal, he intentionally doesnt want to reply to me when I asked for help because he "doesn't wanna deal with me". What about those nights when I helped you get through similar shit? When it's you it's a priority but when it's me, I'm an inconvenience? Im so glad to have cut someone so toxic out of my life.
enuff with allat
Ok so one of his exes contacted me a few months after they broke up and after a few days of meeting up and going on dates, the spark was definitely there so I asked her out and she said yes. What's getting on my nerves recently is that hes posting ig notes that are obviously targeting me and my girlfriend out and when I asked about it he just denies that it's aimed at us. Bro just leave us alone ffs 😭🙏
[sorry if i wrote this shit badly, english isnt my first language]
submitted by SoyaAzashiro to teenagers [link] [comments]
enuff with allat
Ok so one of his exes contacted me a few months after they broke up and after a few days of meeting up and going on dates, the spark was definitely there so I asked her out and she said yes. What's getting on my nerves recently is that hes posting ig notes that are obviously targeting me and my girlfriend out and when I asked about it he just denies that it's aimed at us. Bro just leave us alone ffs 😭🙏
[sorry if i wrote this shit badly, english isnt my first language]
2024.05.14 17:01 GremlinPatch Minding my own business when...
I was out for my daily walk (I usually do this after Pilates), enjoying music, and loving the gorgeous morning sun! On my way back from my 45-minute walk, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a car made an abrupt turn into a parking lot to my left! I try to be aware of my surroundings, due to the state and area I live (conservative hell). I kept walking, but the car made another turn into the lane closets to me and stopped! I began speeding up my pace, because the action made me a little nervous. I couldn't hear anything due to my music's beat pounding in my earbuds.
I kept going, when the same car sped past me, and turned into the road ahead of me, and a person rolled their window down and began speaking to me. I quickly turned my music off and retrieved one of my earbuds in order to better hear what this person was saying to me.
I cautiously approached the car and asked him to repeat himself. He is a male in his late 30s or early 40s. Trimmed beard, dark and nerdy glasses, and a relaxed posture. Though, I could tell he was nervous. He stumbled over his words again, asking me if I worked at the building, he had just pulled into prior to stopping me at the road we currently spoke. I replied that I did not, confused at to where this was leading to. I thought maybe I was being clocked and that some concerned parent was going to tell me to stop walking around the neighborhood!
He proceeded to tell me that he had noticed me a few times before walking around and that he thought I must be a "cool lady". Stumbling over his words, he finally asked "Can I take you out for dinner sometime?" And it hit me... this guy was asking me out!? He wasn't there to rescue the neighborhood from the evil trans girl! I was speechless... I have NEVER had this happen before!
So, we chatted for a little bit, and I finally gave the guy my number. He drove away (I waited to continue my walk, making sure he wouldn't follow me home, and returned home with a smile on my face. It's been a day since this happened and he never called or texted... I feel as if he was able to realize that I am trans (my voice is smokey and I am told sounds like Jessica Rabbit) and deleted my number.
Normally, I would be hurt, but dang it... that was so neat to experience! A guy hit on me in a public space! Just wanted to share this slight validating win.
submitted by GremlinPatch to MtF [link] [comments]
I kept going, when the same car sped past me, and turned into the road ahead of me, and a person rolled their window down and began speaking to me. I quickly turned my music off and retrieved one of my earbuds in order to better hear what this person was saying to me.
I cautiously approached the car and asked him to repeat himself. He is a male in his late 30s or early 40s. Trimmed beard, dark and nerdy glasses, and a relaxed posture. Though, I could tell he was nervous. He stumbled over his words again, asking me if I worked at the building, he had just pulled into prior to stopping me at the road we currently spoke. I replied that I did not, confused at to where this was leading to. I thought maybe I was being clocked and that some concerned parent was going to tell me to stop walking around the neighborhood!
He proceeded to tell me that he had noticed me a few times before walking around and that he thought I must be a "cool lady". Stumbling over his words, he finally asked "Can I take you out for dinner sometime?" And it hit me... this guy was asking me out!? He wasn't there to rescue the neighborhood from the evil trans girl! I was speechless... I have NEVER had this happen before!
So, we chatted for a little bit, and I finally gave the guy my number. He drove away (I waited to continue my walk, making sure he wouldn't follow me home, and returned home with a smile on my face. It's been a day since this happened and he never called or texted... I feel as if he was able to realize that I am trans (my voice is smokey and I am told sounds like Jessica Rabbit) and deleted my number.
Normally, I would be hurt, but dang it... that was so neat to experience! A guy hit on me in a public space! Just wanted to share this slight validating win.
2024.05.14 16:53 dBonesLH Spring Horror Reviews feat. Buehlman, Cutter & More!
Hi Horror fans! I am back with a few more reviews. I normally try to mix up the new and the old the classic and the atypical when I can. My success varies depending on which books call to me. Let me know what you think!
Lowest reviewed to highest.
Survivor Song by Paul Tremblay
Premise- A new rabies virus is running rampant in Massachusetts and Nats is running out of time. Almost ready to give birth and exposed to the rapidly advancing virus she needs help before the baby arrives or she succumbs…
Thoughts- This book almost broke my DNF record. It has been a long time since I gave up on a book and this was close. If it wasn’t a relatively short book (around 300 pages) I don’t think I would have powered through. I disliked one of the main characters throughout (Nats) finding her grating and her attempts at humour embarrassing. It also employs just about every cliché ever put into the apocalyptic or outbreak genre and then makes it worse by being self referential about the cliches. Then towards the end the other main character who I didn’t mind as much becomes so selfish (I understand she’s trying to help her friend but come on) that she willingly endangers a busload of people just for her own ends. All of this is without delving into the awkward and awful kid “slang” Tremblay employs for about 50 pages in the middle of the book. My wife really enjoyed the audiobook for his A Head Full of Ghosts so I will probably try that before writing him off as an author who is not for me but he has a really difficult hill to climb after this. A final thing to note much of this book even when action was occurring felt plodding and slow somehow which I can’t even wrap my head around because rabies infected people chasing down our main characters should be exciting but I could barely keep my eyes open.
Rating- 2/5. Not a 1 because I finished it. Do not recommend. Read any other apocalyptic or outbreak book The Stand or Swan Song comes to mind.
Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman
Premise- The Black Death ravages the French countryside and evil lurks behind every corner. A former knight turned brigand encounters a young girl who is more than she seems. Can he find redemption? Does he deserve it?
Thoughts- This is another horrorlit darling. I actually picked up Buehlman’s fantasy novel The Blacktongue Thief first in anticipation of this this novel because it was the only novel of his available at my book store. I enjoyed that and appreciated the author’s humour and dark side. This novel came with a lot of hype as it has to be one of the most recommended books in this sub. The premise of a medieval horror which features demons and devils was incredibly appealing and my wife and I decided to read through it at the same time (her on audio). We both found it pretty underwhelming which I know might be controversial. It’s strange because its well written, I enjoy the characters and the setting but somehow it did not gel with me. The best way I can describe it is it felt almost like a horror show with say 22 episodes. Like most shows with 22 episodes a lot of them are filler or freak of the week episodes and that is how a lot of the middle of the book felt to me. We would travel along with Thomas and Delphine, they would encounter something strange and remarkable (occasionally horrifying) and move on to another area where another strange or remarkable thing would happen. It felt oddly disconnected. Now I need to talk about the ending which didn’t redeem my feelings about a large portion of the book but it was my favourite thing about this novel for sure. It ends in a fantastic way and encapsulates what I think the author was going for throughout the book but didn’t land for me until the end with themes concerning sin, redemption and second chances. This might be the definition of a book I appreciate and can see what others love about it but didn’t register with me for large portions. That ending though, so good.
Rating-3.5/5 stars. An interesting setting for a modern horror novel let down by some meandering adventures which caused it to lose me somewhat before ending on a high note.
Little Heaven by Nick Cutter
Premise- Three hardened mercenaries team up for what seems like an easy job, rescue a woman’s nephew from a cult down south. What it turns into is a fight for their lives which will haunt them down through the years and will make them wonder if they ever really escaped Little Heaven?
Thoughts- My second foray into the work of horrorlit darling Nick Cutter. I enjoyed The Troop and found it suitably disgusting and chilling to earn the reputation it has in the wider horror fan annals. I actually think I prefer Little Heaven overall. One of my biggest gripes with The Troop was its lack of meaningful characters and many of them felt like stereotypes and while some of the characters in Little Heaven fall a little into that category (the Reverand in particular is just a straight black heart) the main group were all well realized in my opinion and despite their obvious shortcomings I came to root for them. Cutter per usual is a master with description, creeping the reader out with every mention of things slimy, crawly or looming. In this book he has included some pages of art which further the atmosphere and really burn some of the images into your mind (one rather tall character in particular). I enjoyed the back and forth between the two timelines, one during the initial trip to Little Heaven in the 60’s and the ugly return in the 80’s. It had almost an It like feeling of needing to overcome your fear when you know what is awaiting you but finding the courage decades later to face it regardless. Similarly to The Troop, Cutter doesn’t give us the Hollywood happy ending either which I enjoy, you get your elements and take what you can from such an evil place. Without going into spoilers there were things about the ultimate confrontation which I disliked (mostly the reveal of what is within the black rock itself) and things which I enjoyed a lot (the ultimate fate of one of the main characters). I think that I have now read what I would consider his two most applauded books I can move onto the one which splits horror audiences in half, The Deep. Overall though Cutter writes horror that really is a page turner and I will continue to read him until he proves otherwise.
Rating-4/5 stars. Another fast-paced creepy jaunt evoking elements of Heart of Darkness (and modern horror takes like Children of Chaos) and the two timeline split involving children obsessed evil like King’s It, Mr. Cutter continues to impress and make it his own.
Empire of the Vampire by Jay Kristoff
Premise- The sun has gone dark and the great empire of Elidaen is at war. Not with their neighbouring countries but the great unholy horde of undying monsters that make up the vampiric kingdoms. Gabriel De Leon will learn what it means to survive and battle against these creatures on his journey to becoming a member of the Silversaints, the great brotherhood of warriors who try to keep the darkness at bay.
Thoughts- Let me start by saying that putting this into my horror reviews is a little of a stretch. This is really more of a dark fantasy book with horror trappings. If you just want straight horror and are not into fantasy as a genre maybe give this one a pass, but if you do enjoy fantasy even a little please check this out. It is epic in scale with fantastic characters and really fun dialogue. If I am being reductive it is like 70% Witcher, 20% Blade and 10% Interview with a Vampire. I happen to enjoy all three of those things quite a bit so I loved this book. The story bounces between three time frames, the framing story in the “present” where Gabriel is imprisoned and telling his life story to his vampire jailor, his origin story taking place when he is around 16 telling of his upbringing and becoming a Silversaint and finally him as a 32 year old on a quest for the holy grail. Kristoff does a really good job at least early on keeping the reader engaged on each story as they bounce back and forth and I never felt too much like I needed to go back to the other time line even though I was always interested in what would happen next. There was one sequence which dragged a little for me (basically the sequence going to and time in Redwatch) but it is a minor gripe in a hell of a book. I am very excited for the sequel which should be out in first half of 2024. This book looks from the title and cover a little juvenile but it is very adult (many brutal murders, battles, amusing and creative cursing and a fair bit of the sexy stuff) so do not be scared off by appearance alone. A definite recommend from me. I could see some people finding the dynamics and themes well trodden from other recent media as mentioned Witcher and things like The Last of Us, but the world and characters Kristoff creates makes it work despite the familiarity.
Rating-4.5/5 stars. A brilliant start to what I hope will be the and amazing vampire series.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patick Suskind
Premise- Jean-Baptise Grenouille is born with a unique ability, the most extraordinary nose of all time. He can remember, store and create any scent he wishes. To that end he “collects” as many as possible and aims to create the greatest perfume known to mankind. Unfortunately, the best scents that he wishes to capture for his perfume comes from virginal teenage girls and he will take their odour no matter the cost….
Thoughts- I prepared myself for this book based on comments from fellow readers by expecting it to fall into the more distinguished “literature” side of the horror genre. It did but it still surprised me with the directions that it went in. I was expecting more focus lets say on the murders themselves and Suskind does such an amazing job detailing the inner workings of Grenouille’s mind that when we finally get to that part of the book we absolutely understand why they are not really the focus of the novel but merely a means to an end. The descriptions of odours are amazing and a few times I felt myself almost gagging at some of the images Suskind conjures with his prose. I am not a prose person but he does a wonderful job detailing scents in a way you would never think of. The journey Grenouille goes on is utterly unexpected and fascinating. You truly get a strange insight into this broken creature and why he is doing what he is doing and how ultimately the murders mean nothing to him but a way to capture or collect his perfume which is his ambition. The last few pages erupt into a madhouse of defied expectations just when I thought we would have a fairly basic ending Suskind pulls the rug out once again. It also really underlines how animal humanity can be and what we can be reduced to based on our senses.
Rating-5/5 stars. A truly unique novel which defied all expectations. Very different and easy to recommend to horror readers who want something out of the ordinary.
THANKS FOR READING!
If you want to read my previous horror reviews I will post the links here:
Devil in the White City, The Troop, The Damnation Game, Swan Song, The Fisherman and Something Wicked This Way Comes
https://www.reddit.com/horrorlit/comments/15a7jvq/review_sixpack/
Playground, Ghost Story, Red Dragon, The Exorcist, Children of Chaos
https://www.reddit.com/horrorlit/comments/17a3s9t/halloween_season_reviews/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3
Mr. Gaunt and Other Uneasy Encounters, Mongrels, Strange Weather, Let the Right One in, The Final Girl Support Group
https://www.reddit.com/horrorlit/comments/18282lx/fall_horror_reviews_feat_graham_jones_hill/
Potential Options Upcoming books:
Owned- Old Country by Query, The Fireman by Hill and Carrion Comfort by Simmons (started this one got about 1/3 through and put it down wasn’t clicking despite me loving his Sci-Fi).
Wishlist- The Imago Sequence and Other Stories by Barron, Boy’s Life by McCammon.
submitted by dBonesLH to horrorlit [link] [comments]
Lowest reviewed to highest.
Survivor Song by Paul Tremblay
Premise- A new rabies virus is running rampant in Massachusetts and Nats is running out of time. Almost ready to give birth and exposed to the rapidly advancing virus she needs help before the baby arrives or she succumbs…
Thoughts- This book almost broke my DNF record. It has been a long time since I gave up on a book and this was close. If it wasn’t a relatively short book (around 300 pages) I don’t think I would have powered through. I disliked one of the main characters throughout (Nats) finding her grating and her attempts at humour embarrassing. It also employs just about every cliché ever put into the apocalyptic or outbreak genre and then makes it worse by being self referential about the cliches. Then towards the end the other main character who I didn’t mind as much becomes so selfish (I understand she’s trying to help her friend but come on) that she willingly endangers a busload of people just for her own ends. All of this is without delving into the awkward and awful kid “slang” Tremblay employs for about 50 pages in the middle of the book. My wife really enjoyed the audiobook for his A Head Full of Ghosts so I will probably try that before writing him off as an author who is not for me but he has a really difficult hill to climb after this. A final thing to note much of this book even when action was occurring felt plodding and slow somehow which I can’t even wrap my head around because rabies infected people chasing down our main characters should be exciting but I could barely keep my eyes open.
Rating- 2/5. Not a 1 because I finished it. Do not recommend. Read any other apocalyptic or outbreak book The Stand or Swan Song comes to mind.
Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman
Premise- The Black Death ravages the French countryside and evil lurks behind every corner. A former knight turned brigand encounters a young girl who is more than she seems. Can he find redemption? Does he deserve it?
Thoughts- This is another horrorlit darling. I actually picked up Buehlman’s fantasy novel The Blacktongue Thief first in anticipation of this this novel because it was the only novel of his available at my book store. I enjoyed that and appreciated the author’s humour and dark side. This novel came with a lot of hype as it has to be one of the most recommended books in this sub. The premise of a medieval horror which features demons and devils was incredibly appealing and my wife and I decided to read through it at the same time (her on audio). We both found it pretty underwhelming which I know might be controversial. It’s strange because its well written, I enjoy the characters and the setting but somehow it did not gel with me. The best way I can describe it is it felt almost like a horror show with say 22 episodes. Like most shows with 22 episodes a lot of them are filler or freak of the week episodes and that is how a lot of the middle of the book felt to me. We would travel along with Thomas and Delphine, they would encounter something strange and remarkable (occasionally horrifying) and move on to another area where another strange or remarkable thing would happen. It felt oddly disconnected. Now I need to talk about the ending which didn’t redeem my feelings about a large portion of the book but it was my favourite thing about this novel for sure. It ends in a fantastic way and encapsulates what I think the author was going for throughout the book but didn’t land for me until the end with themes concerning sin, redemption and second chances. This might be the definition of a book I appreciate and can see what others love about it but didn’t register with me for large portions. That ending though, so good.
Rating-3.5/5 stars. An interesting setting for a modern horror novel let down by some meandering adventures which caused it to lose me somewhat before ending on a high note.
Little Heaven by Nick Cutter
Premise- Three hardened mercenaries team up for what seems like an easy job, rescue a woman’s nephew from a cult down south. What it turns into is a fight for their lives which will haunt them down through the years and will make them wonder if they ever really escaped Little Heaven?
Thoughts- My second foray into the work of horrorlit darling Nick Cutter. I enjoyed The Troop and found it suitably disgusting and chilling to earn the reputation it has in the wider horror fan annals. I actually think I prefer Little Heaven overall. One of my biggest gripes with The Troop was its lack of meaningful characters and many of them felt like stereotypes and while some of the characters in Little Heaven fall a little into that category (the Reverand in particular is just a straight black heart) the main group were all well realized in my opinion and despite their obvious shortcomings I came to root for them. Cutter per usual is a master with description, creeping the reader out with every mention of things slimy, crawly or looming. In this book he has included some pages of art which further the atmosphere and really burn some of the images into your mind (one rather tall character in particular). I enjoyed the back and forth between the two timelines, one during the initial trip to Little Heaven in the 60’s and the ugly return in the 80’s. It had almost an It like feeling of needing to overcome your fear when you know what is awaiting you but finding the courage decades later to face it regardless. Similarly to The Troop, Cutter doesn’t give us the Hollywood happy ending either which I enjoy, you get your elements and take what you can from such an evil place. Without going into spoilers there were things about the ultimate confrontation which I disliked (mostly the reveal of what is within the black rock itself) and things which I enjoyed a lot (the ultimate fate of one of the main characters). I think that I have now read what I would consider his two most applauded books I can move onto the one which splits horror audiences in half, The Deep. Overall though Cutter writes horror that really is a page turner and I will continue to read him until he proves otherwise.
Rating-4/5 stars. Another fast-paced creepy jaunt evoking elements of Heart of Darkness (and modern horror takes like Children of Chaos) and the two timeline split involving children obsessed evil like King’s It, Mr. Cutter continues to impress and make it his own.
Empire of the Vampire by Jay Kristoff
Premise- The sun has gone dark and the great empire of Elidaen is at war. Not with their neighbouring countries but the great unholy horde of undying monsters that make up the vampiric kingdoms. Gabriel De Leon will learn what it means to survive and battle against these creatures on his journey to becoming a member of the Silversaints, the great brotherhood of warriors who try to keep the darkness at bay.
Thoughts- Let me start by saying that putting this into my horror reviews is a little of a stretch. This is really more of a dark fantasy book with horror trappings. If you just want straight horror and are not into fantasy as a genre maybe give this one a pass, but if you do enjoy fantasy even a little please check this out. It is epic in scale with fantastic characters and really fun dialogue. If I am being reductive it is like 70% Witcher, 20% Blade and 10% Interview with a Vampire. I happen to enjoy all three of those things quite a bit so I loved this book. The story bounces between three time frames, the framing story in the “present” where Gabriel is imprisoned and telling his life story to his vampire jailor, his origin story taking place when he is around 16 telling of his upbringing and becoming a Silversaint and finally him as a 32 year old on a quest for the holy grail. Kristoff does a really good job at least early on keeping the reader engaged on each story as they bounce back and forth and I never felt too much like I needed to go back to the other time line even though I was always interested in what would happen next. There was one sequence which dragged a little for me (basically the sequence going to and time in Redwatch) but it is a minor gripe in a hell of a book. I am very excited for the sequel which should be out in first half of 2024. This book looks from the title and cover a little juvenile but it is very adult (many brutal murders, battles, amusing and creative cursing and a fair bit of the sexy stuff) so do not be scared off by appearance alone. A definite recommend from me. I could see some people finding the dynamics and themes well trodden from other recent media as mentioned Witcher and things like The Last of Us, but the world and characters Kristoff creates makes it work despite the familiarity.
Rating-4.5/5 stars. A brilliant start to what I hope will be the and amazing vampire series.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patick Suskind
Premise- Jean-Baptise Grenouille is born with a unique ability, the most extraordinary nose of all time. He can remember, store and create any scent he wishes. To that end he “collects” as many as possible and aims to create the greatest perfume known to mankind. Unfortunately, the best scents that he wishes to capture for his perfume comes from virginal teenage girls and he will take their odour no matter the cost….
Thoughts- I prepared myself for this book based on comments from fellow readers by expecting it to fall into the more distinguished “literature” side of the horror genre. It did but it still surprised me with the directions that it went in. I was expecting more focus lets say on the murders themselves and Suskind does such an amazing job detailing the inner workings of Grenouille’s mind that when we finally get to that part of the book we absolutely understand why they are not really the focus of the novel but merely a means to an end. The descriptions of odours are amazing and a few times I felt myself almost gagging at some of the images Suskind conjures with his prose. I am not a prose person but he does a wonderful job detailing scents in a way you would never think of. The journey Grenouille goes on is utterly unexpected and fascinating. You truly get a strange insight into this broken creature and why he is doing what he is doing and how ultimately the murders mean nothing to him but a way to capture or collect his perfume which is his ambition. The last few pages erupt into a madhouse of defied expectations just when I thought we would have a fairly basic ending Suskind pulls the rug out once again. It also really underlines how animal humanity can be and what we can be reduced to based on our senses.
Rating-5/5 stars. A truly unique novel which defied all expectations. Very different and easy to recommend to horror readers who want something out of the ordinary.
THANKS FOR READING!
If you want to read my previous horror reviews I will post the links here:
Devil in the White City, The Troop, The Damnation Game, Swan Song, The Fisherman and Something Wicked This Way Comes
https://www.reddit.com/horrorlit/comments/15a7jvq/review_sixpack/
Playground, Ghost Story, Red Dragon, The Exorcist, Children of Chaos
https://www.reddit.com/horrorlit/comments/17a3s9t/halloween_season_reviews/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3
Mr. Gaunt and Other Uneasy Encounters, Mongrels, Strange Weather, Let the Right One in, The Final Girl Support Group
https://www.reddit.com/horrorlit/comments/18282lx/fall_horror_reviews_feat_graham_jones_hill/
Potential Options Upcoming books:
Owned- Old Country by Query, The Fireman by Hill and Carrion Comfort by Simmons (started this one got about 1/3 through and put it down wasn’t clicking despite me loving his Sci-Fi).
Wishlist- The Imago Sequence and Other Stories by Barron, Boy’s Life by McCammon.
2024.05.14 16:30 Corruptfun As If It Were Kismet Prologue & Chapters 1-5
As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”
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Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”
2024.05.14 16:17 Corruptfun As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”
submitted by Corruptfun to yandere [link] [comments]
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”
2024.05.14 16:11 markimdreaming I lived my scariest experience to date for a homework
I’ve always been really into ghost stories, or urban legends in general. The White Lady, haunted dolls, vampires, black eyed children, that kind of stuff. I know that, today, people my age aren’t big fans of that kind of horror anymore, preferring it things like the Backrooms, analog horror, all the new kinds of scary media. Honestly, I get it, things do need to evolve, and when we see everything that’s happening in the world, it’s understandable that a good old ghost story don’t do the job anymore.
Still, the “old fashioned” horror (it’s not that old, but things move fast on the internet) is always my jam. I grew up watching youtubers investigating haunted places, ghost hunting, with all their accessories, EMF meters, their little radio thing that they use to listen to radio frequencies so that they can hear any interference, their antenna that beeps when something approaches it, voice recorders, special flashlights, and let me tell you that all this, it was doing it for me.
So, since my, probably 7 years, I dreamt of doing these things myself. Of course, I tried everything a young boy is able to do, like Ouija or stupidly walking around my house with my phone filming, hoping that some random deceased person with unfinished business will show up to, I don’t know, have a chat. I wish I could say that other people’s judgement doesn’t affect me, but that would be a lie, so, going in to high school, I had to socially tone down my interest for those things in order to have friends. None of my friends and classmates knew about my persisting passion for ghosts and creepy stories.
I realize that keeping this such a secret is a bit ridiculous, especially approaching my 18th birthday, but, you know, it would be even weirder to reveal it after hiding it for almost 6 years like it was something super taboo. So here I was, I started hiding my passion at 12 to avoid other’s judging it, and I’m now still hiding it at 17 to avoid others judging the fact that I hid it… A bit pathetic I got to admit.
Anyway, everything started a few days ago. I have an art history class at school and the teacher really likes to give us big works of research. This time, he had a new idea, the whole class will be divided into groups of two, and each group will receive a building from our city that the teacher had choose for his architectural and artistic interests, and we’ll have to give it a visit and write an analysis on the different things we’ll notice and link it to what we saw in class. Since all the buildings were not public places, he had asked the authorization of every property’s owner.
Honestly, this could have been worse. This actually sounded kinda cool to do. Now, what I was concerned about was who will be my partner. Obviously, I was hoping for one of my friends. After explaining the rules and exact instructions for the work, he started to announce the groups. I was waiting to hear my name, anxious, as all my friends were slowly starting to be put into their groups.
“Joshua!” The teacher said (yeah that’s my name). “You will be with…” I was holding on to my chair. “… Elizabeth!”
I turned to Elizabeth, and we looked at each other. Neither one of us seemed excited. It wasn’t a terrible pair, I thought to myself, I just didn’t know what to think of it exactly. Elizabeth was a pretty popular girl, not that I was an outcast or anything, but she was still way more popular than me. I didn’t know much more about her, despite the fact that we were in the same class since my first year of high school, but it looked like she was going to be an okay partner.
The teacher then gave us our building. I won’t reveal the real name of what he gave us so I’ll call it “Guaraldi’s Street 22”. Apparently, it was a pretty old house that had somewhat of an historic value to it. The teacher gave us some information so we wouldn’t stumble there without any prior knowledge. The owner was an old woman who had always lived there. She was apparently very glad to open her doors to young students and was ready to answer any questions we could have. He warned us that she had a weak audition and that we would have to speak loudly. The teacher then recommended us to do a little bit of research before going there, so we could already have some idea of where we were entering.
I then found myself in front of Elizabeth. I think the last time we even talked to each other was months ago when she was distributing a test to the class and that I said “Thanks”, so, yeah, not a lot of background. I noticed, and I don’t know why it took me so long, I guess I never paid much attention to her, that she was dressed in kind of an old style, she wore some clearly used dungarees. The date the teacher had scheduled for our visit was on Sunday, and we were Thursday.
“So, hum, I guess, we can both do research on our side, and we’ll meet, maybe at lunch break tomorrow to get on the same page. Is that good for you?” She asked me.
“Yeah, that’s good, we can do that.”
“Okay, then, see you tomorrow.” She said.
“See you.”
On that she turned her feet and left for her break. The rest of the day went by and I got back home. As usual, my mom wasn’t there, she often has to work late as she’s a single mom to me and my little sister Rosa. I ate my diner and went to my room. I opened my computer to start my research. It wasn’t hard to find information, even though things were repeating themselves a lot: “so much historical meaning for the city”, “a perfect example of “art-deco” architecture”, “a house filled with stories”. There was a lot of talk by local medias about it, but not much actual facts.
It was so weak, that I had to go to page 2 of the search results on google, or, as I like to call them, “the abyss of the internet” (I’m exaggerating a bit, but it’s not often that you have to go there).
Then, something caught my eyes. It was a forum about paranormal experiences, and the address was mentioned on a post. I immediately clicked on it and read the whole thing. It wasn’t exactly the most thrilling story I’ve read, but here’s what it basically said.
Apparently, the owner opened the house as a cottage during the summer, and the person posting was narrating what he experienced during his passage there. He described a very special and kinda suffocating vibe that was apparently all around the house, and the feeling of being observed all the time. He also talked about hearing voices at random moments. They were brief but often mentioned his name. The end of his testimony talked about his last night, when he said he saw a little child with no facial expression in front of his bed, who slowly started to climb into it and grabbed his legs, trying to pull him outside of his bed. The poster said he eventually succeeded to push the kid away, despite his unreal strength, and that the boy ended up running out of the room, laughing. When he spoke to the owner about it the next morning, she said that it must have been his imagination playing tricks on him, as she didn’t believe in paranormal and that nothing similar ever happened to her.
This wasn’t much, it could have been a complete lie, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t peak my curiosity. The story was as basic as it could be, but it was so specific for it to happen in that place, which was absolutely not famous, and even less for any paranormal events. I kept that in the back of my mind and continued my research, but I didn’t find much more, so I went to sleep.
As I was lying in my bed, I was thinking. What if the person who posted his story said the truth. This was the first time I was going to enter somewhere that old and charged with history, this could be the perfect place for my first ghost-hunt. But of course, I was going for school and won’t be alone, plus, it’s not really respectful to the owner, who kindly opened the doors of her family house to us. And even if I wanted to, I’d be constantly with Elizabeth, so, it was not really an option. I looked at the EMF meter I received for a birthday on my shelf and thought to myself that this would be for another time.
The next day, as planned, I met with Elizabeth at lunch break. We started to share the results of our research, where I did not include the post from the forum for obvious reasons. We talked a bit before coming to a clear conclusion.
“Yeah, the thing is, we have the same exact stuff, there isn’t much interesting infos to be found online, except very surface level stuff.” She said.
“Yes, I think we should prepare the questions we want to ask the owner instead.” I answered.
“You’re right, do you think you can have yours for Sunday?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
We exchanged a bit more and eventually went back to class.
On Saturday, I prepared a few questions to ask the owner.
Then came today, Sunday. The meeting was planned at 11AM. I woke up normally, took a breakfast, got dressed, everything. Before leaving my room, I took one last look at the room and I saw my EMF meter. It was like he was begging me to take him. I grabbed it and left. I didn’t know if I would actually use it, but I had it. It had an option where instead of lighting the small lamps he was vibrating, so I activated that and put it in my pocket.
I arrived at the house and Elizabeth was already waiting for me. We knocked and we could hear the owner walking towards the door saying “Yes, yes, just a second.” She opened and she looked like the sweetest thing ever. She was short and had a naturally kind face. We could see that she was clearly dressed and make up for the occasion. She welcomed us and let us in happily. The hallway was very pretty, I understood why our teacher got us this house, it was indeed very interesting. The walls were covered with paintings and old pictures, mostly portraits. On everyone of these, the people had a very serious look, but that’s not unusual for old pictures.
We walked to the living room where she served us tea and we sat together.
“So, I think you have some questions for me?” She asked. You could see that she was very glad to talk. “Don’t be shy, I’m open.”
Elizabeth started to ask her first question then I did, and we could ask her everything.
The house was her family’s for many generations, but it hadn’t always been theirs. All the persons in the hallway, paintings or pictures, were previous habitants of the house, and they went as far as the 15th century, so, yeah, it was all pretty old. She said they could only know the identity of some of the first generations but that a lot of the people were non identified. She answered a lot of other questions regarding the architectural and artistic heritage of the building, and she was surprisingly very interesting to listen to. Her enthusiasm and kindness were contagious, and we both couldn’t help but ask more questions.
Eventually, we arrived to the end of our list, and it was time for us to visit, take notes, analyze, all that. She asked us not to touch anything, as a lot of things had a lot of value, but let us wander free in the house. She said she’ll be making cookies for when we’ll be done. Elizabeth and I found ourselves alone in the living room and finished our tea.
“God,… She’s adorable.” Said Elizabeth with a smile.
“Yes, she’s so sweet, I wasn’t expecting that.” I said.
“Let’s, maybe start with there.” She said, pointing to the room besides us.
We got up and entered it. The walls were covered by huge bookshelves. Elizabeth started to take notes, looking at the room, and I started inspecting the books. There was probably a more than a thousand books, and some of them looked super old. I read the titles of some of them, and the least I could say was that it needed to be rearranged. “Cooking Asian Food”, “Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince”, some old book with the title erased, and even a CD in the middle, it was a bit random.
We eventually moved on to the hallway. It was a bit oppressing with all those eyes who seemed to observe us. Elizabeth did mention how it felt a bit weird and we started to take notes again. At some point, my look stopped on one painting at the back of the hall. It was a young lady, dressed classically, maybe a bit poorly even, for someone who would have lived there. She was kinda pretty, if I’m being honest. But the reason why it caught my eyes was that it was the only one who was smiling. All the other people represented looked dead serious, but her, she smiled. A sweet, even caring and warm smile. I noticed that it seemed like she was staring at me. Of course, a lot of paintings give that same impression, but it was more intense on her.
My heart skipped a beat. I was sure that I just saw her winked to me. I let out a gasp. I was convinced she winked at me. The vibe went from slightly oppressive to extremely heavy. Then we both heard it.
“Elizabeth.”
An unrecognizable voice had just whispered. Elizabeth turned to me.
“Did you say that?” She asked.
“Elizabeth.”
A younger voice this time. We were facing each other, so we knew it couldn’t be one of us this time, and the owner was in the kitchen. Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide and she slowly walked towards me.
“Elizabeth.”
She jumped.
“WHAT THE… fuck?” I let out. We were looking around us.
“Joshua, I don’t like this…”
“Yeah, me neither.”
We were frozen in place, with all the paintings looking right to us.
“Elizabeth.”
That time it was a deep voice, and it came from behind us. We turned. Slowly, all the faces of the paintings and pictures started to clearly move. They were opening their eyes wide and opening their mouths, maintaining their serious, and now even melancholic look.
“Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck is that, what is it!” Elizabeth was mumbling, panicking as I was starting to breathe faster.
All the people started to say her name together on repeat: “Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth…” I turned my head to the painting of the young lady from earlier, and she was the only one that wasn’t moving, still the same smile, she looked at peace.
I don’t remember exactly what I was whispering at that moment, but we were both freaking out.
We heard some scratching noise. Long, dirty hands with sharp nails, almost inhumans, were piercing the pictures and paintings. The eyes of the people were becoming all black, and their jaws were opening more than humanly possible as they kept on repeating her name. The hands were all getting closer from us. We were now touching one another, completely surrounded by those hands. Then, they moved way faster and a lot of them got their nails right into Elizabeth’s skin and pierced it while descending all over her body.
She screamed loudly out of pain. It was a terrifying scream. All the hands got to their pictures and back inside of it while closing what they pierced. Soon, the pictures and paintings were back to normal, but Elizabeth was bleeding from all over her body and was on the floor, crying. I got to her level and tried as much as possible to reassure her, but I wasn’t very effective as I was myself in shock and terrified.
We heard the owner walk towards us.
“What’s happening to you two? I heard screams, are you okay?”
She entered the hallway and saw the scene. She looked completely shocked.
“But what happened?” She asked.
Both of us were unable to answer to her, we had no idea what to say that wouldn’t make us sound crazy, so we just looked at her with whatever faces we were making at that moment. She didn’t wait long and went to take a first aid kid. She sat down and put some bandages all over Elizabeth, as I was reflecting on what happened. When she was done, we both wanted to leave, so we said that we had what we needed for now. She looked sorry and packed some cookies for each of us. As we opened the door to leave, she articulated one last phrase.
“I hope you’ll come back.” She had a look and a tone of sadness. We got out and were now on the street.
We both looked at each other. She was covered in bands, like she got into a huge fight. I started to speak but she lifted her hand.
“Not today. Another one.” She said. “I’ll see you at school.” And she left.
I got on my way too and gave one last look to the house. The old owner was watching me from her window, and I couldn’t tell what her expression was.
I was too tired so I ignored it and went back to my house.
I’m posting this now that I’m back at home. I have no news of Elizabeth, but she did add me on Instagram, so…
I have no idea what I should do now, I have so many questions, so, if anyone has any theories, I’ll take it. I’m also open to questions of course…
submitted by markimdreaming to nosleep [link] [comments]
Still, the “old fashioned” horror (it’s not that old, but things move fast on the internet) is always my jam. I grew up watching youtubers investigating haunted places, ghost hunting, with all their accessories, EMF meters, their little radio thing that they use to listen to radio frequencies so that they can hear any interference, their antenna that beeps when something approaches it, voice recorders, special flashlights, and let me tell you that all this, it was doing it for me.
So, since my, probably 7 years, I dreamt of doing these things myself. Of course, I tried everything a young boy is able to do, like Ouija or stupidly walking around my house with my phone filming, hoping that some random deceased person with unfinished business will show up to, I don’t know, have a chat. I wish I could say that other people’s judgement doesn’t affect me, but that would be a lie, so, going in to high school, I had to socially tone down my interest for those things in order to have friends. None of my friends and classmates knew about my persisting passion for ghosts and creepy stories.
I realize that keeping this such a secret is a bit ridiculous, especially approaching my 18th birthday, but, you know, it would be even weirder to reveal it after hiding it for almost 6 years like it was something super taboo. So here I was, I started hiding my passion at 12 to avoid other’s judging it, and I’m now still hiding it at 17 to avoid others judging the fact that I hid it… A bit pathetic I got to admit.
Anyway, everything started a few days ago. I have an art history class at school and the teacher really likes to give us big works of research. This time, he had a new idea, the whole class will be divided into groups of two, and each group will receive a building from our city that the teacher had choose for his architectural and artistic interests, and we’ll have to give it a visit and write an analysis on the different things we’ll notice and link it to what we saw in class. Since all the buildings were not public places, he had asked the authorization of every property’s owner.
Honestly, this could have been worse. This actually sounded kinda cool to do. Now, what I was concerned about was who will be my partner. Obviously, I was hoping for one of my friends. After explaining the rules and exact instructions for the work, he started to announce the groups. I was waiting to hear my name, anxious, as all my friends were slowly starting to be put into their groups.
“Joshua!” The teacher said (yeah that’s my name). “You will be with…” I was holding on to my chair. “… Elizabeth!”
I turned to Elizabeth, and we looked at each other. Neither one of us seemed excited. It wasn’t a terrible pair, I thought to myself, I just didn’t know what to think of it exactly. Elizabeth was a pretty popular girl, not that I was an outcast or anything, but she was still way more popular than me. I didn’t know much more about her, despite the fact that we were in the same class since my first year of high school, but it looked like she was going to be an okay partner.
The teacher then gave us our building. I won’t reveal the real name of what he gave us so I’ll call it “Guaraldi’s Street 22”. Apparently, it was a pretty old house that had somewhat of an historic value to it. The teacher gave us some information so we wouldn’t stumble there without any prior knowledge. The owner was an old woman who had always lived there. She was apparently very glad to open her doors to young students and was ready to answer any questions we could have. He warned us that she had a weak audition and that we would have to speak loudly. The teacher then recommended us to do a little bit of research before going there, so we could already have some idea of where we were entering.
I then found myself in front of Elizabeth. I think the last time we even talked to each other was months ago when she was distributing a test to the class and that I said “Thanks”, so, yeah, not a lot of background. I noticed, and I don’t know why it took me so long, I guess I never paid much attention to her, that she was dressed in kind of an old style, she wore some clearly used dungarees. The date the teacher had scheduled for our visit was on Sunday, and we were Thursday.
“So, hum, I guess, we can both do research on our side, and we’ll meet, maybe at lunch break tomorrow to get on the same page. Is that good for you?” She asked me.
“Yeah, that’s good, we can do that.”
“Okay, then, see you tomorrow.” She said.
“See you.”
On that she turned her feet and left for her break. The rest of the day went by and I got back home. As usual, my mom wasn’t there, she often has to work late as she’s a single mom to me and my little sister Rosa. I ate my diner and went to my room. I opened my computer to start my research. It wasn’t hard to find information, even though things were repeating themselves a lot: “so much historical meaning for the city”, “a perfect example of “art-deco” architecture”, “a house filled with stories”. There was a lot of talk by local medias about it, but not much actual facts.
It was so weak, that I had to go to page 2 of the search results on google, or, as I like to call them, “the abyss of the internet” (I’m exaggerating a bit, but it’s not often that you have to go there).
Then, something caught my eyes. It was a forum about paranormal experiences, and the address was mentioned on a post. I immediately clicked on it and read the whole thing. It wasn’t exactly the most thrilling story I’ve read, but here’s what it basically said.
Apparently, the owner opened the house as a cottage during the summer, and the person posting was narrating what he experienced during his passage there. He described a very special and kinda suffocating vibe that was apparently all around the house, and the feeling of being observed all the time. He also talked about hearing voices at random moments. They were brief but often mentioned his name. The end of his testimony talked about his last night, when he said he saw a little child with no facial expression in front of his bed, who slowly started to climb into it and grabbed his legs, trying to pull him outside of his bed. The poster said he eventually succeeded to push the kid away, despite his unreal strength, and that the boy ended up running out of the room, laughing. When he spoke to the owner about it the next morning, she said that it must have been his imagination playing tricks on him, as she didn’t believe in paranormal and that nothing similar ever happened to her.
This wasn’t much, it could have been a complete lie, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t peak my curiosity. The story was as basic as it could be, but it was so specific for it to happen in that place, which was absolutely not famous, and even less for any paranormal events. I kept that in the back of my mind and continued my research, but I didn’t find much more, so I went to sleep.
As I was lying in my bed, I was thinking. What if the person who posted his story said the truth. This was the first time I was going to enter somewhere that old and charged with history, this could be the perfect place for my first ghost-hunt. But of course, I was going for school and won’t be alone, plus, it’s not really respectful to the owner, who kindly opened the doors of her family house to us. And even if I wanted to, I’d be constantly with Elizabeth, so, it was not really an option. I looked at the EMF meter I received for a birthday on my shelf and thought to myself that this would be for another time.
The next day, as planned, I met with Elizabeth at lunch break. We started to share the results of our research, where I did not include the post from the forum for obvious reasons. We talked a bit before coming to a clear conclusion.
“Yeah, the thing is, we have the same exact stuff, there isn’t much interesting infos to be found online, except very surface level stuff.” She said.
“Yes, I think we should prepare the questions we want to ask the owner instead.” I answered.
“You’re right, do you think you can have yours for Sunday?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
We exchanged a bit more and eventually went back to class.
On Saturday, I prepared a few questions to ask the owner.
Then came today, Sunday. The meeting was planned at 11AM. I woke up normally, took a breakfast, got dressed, everything. Before leaving my room, I took one last look at the room and I saw my EMF meter. It was like he was begging me to take him. I grabbed it and left. I didn’t know if I would actually use it, but I had it. It had an option where instead of lighting the small lamps he was vibrating, so I activated that and put it in my pocket.
I arrived at the house and Elizabeth was already waiting for me. We knocked and we could hear the owner walking towards the door saying “Yes, yes, just a second.” She opened and she looked like the sweetest thing ever. She was short and had a naturally kind face. We could see that she was clearly dressed and make up for the occasion. She welcomed us and let us in happily. The hallway was very pretty, I understood why our teacher got us this house, it was indeed very interesting. The walls were covered with paintings and old pictures, mostly portraits. On everyone of these, the people had a very serious look, but that’s not unusual for old pictures.
We walked to the living room where she served us tea and we sat together.
“So, I think you have some questions for me?” She asked. You could see that she was very glad to talk. “Don’t be shy, I’m open.”
Elizabeth started to ask her first question then I did, and we could ask her everything.
The house was her family’s for many generations, but it hadn’t always been theirs. All the persons in the hallway, paintings or pictures, were previous habitants of the house, and they went as far as the 15th century, so, yeah, it was all pretty old. She said they could only know the identity of some of the first generations but that a lot of the people were non identified. She answered a lot of other questions regarding the architectural and artistic heritage of the building, and she was surprisingly very interesting to listen to. Her enthusiasm and kindness were contagious, and we both couldn’t help but ask more questions.
Eventually, we arrived to the end of our list, and it was time for us to visit, take notes, analyze, all that. She asked us not to touch anything, as a lot of things had a lot of value, but let us wander free in the house. She said she’ll be making cookies for when we’ll be done. Elizabeth and I found ourselves alone in the living room and finished our tea.
“God,… She’s adorable.” Said Elizabeth with a smile.
“Yes, she’s so sweet, I wasn’t expecting that.” I said.
“Let’s, maybe start with there.” She said, pointing to the room besides us.
We got up and entered it. The walls were covered by huge bookshelves. Elizabeth started to take notes, looking at the room, and I started inspecting the books. There was probably a more than a thousand books, and some of them looked super old. I read the titles of some of them, and the least I could say was that it needed to be rearranged. “Cooking Asian Food”, “Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince”, some old book with the title erased, and even a CD in the middle, it was a bit random.
We eventually moved on to the hallway. It was a bit oppressing with all those eyes who seemed to observe us. Elizabeth did mention how it felt a bit weird and we started to take notes again. At some point, my look stopped on one painting at the back of the hall. It was a young lady, dressed classically, maybe a bit poorly even, for someone who would have lived there. She was kinda pretty, if I’m being honest. But the reason why it caught my eyes was that it was the only one who was smiling. All the other people represented looked dead serious, but her, she smiled. A sweet, even caring and warm smile. I noticed that it seemed like she was staring at me. Of course, a lot of paintings give that same impression, but it was more intense on her.
My heart skipped a beat. I was sure that I just saw her winked to me. I let out a gasp. I was convinced she winked at me. The vibe went from slightly oppressive to extremely heavy. Then we both heard it.
“Elizabeth.”
An unrecognizable voice had just whispered. Elizabeth turned to me.
“Did you say that?” She asked.
“Elizabeth.”
A younger voice this time. We were facing each other, so we knew it couldn’t be one of us this time, and the owner was in the kitchen. Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide and she slowly walked towards me.
“Elizabeth.”
She jumped.
“WHAT THE… fuck?” I let out. We were looking around us.
“Joshua, I don’t like this…”
“Yeah, me neither.”
We were frozen in place, with all the paintings looking right to us.
“Elizabeth.”
That time it was a deep voice, and it came from behind us. We turned. Slowly, all the faces of the paintings and pictures started to clearly move. They were opening their eyes wide and opening their mouths, maintaining their serious, and now even melancholic look.
“Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck is that, what is it!” Elizabeth was mumbling, panicking as I was starting to breathe faster.
All the people started to say her name together on repeat: “Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth…” I turned my head to the painting of the young lady from earlier, and she was the only one that wasn’t moving, still the same smile, she looked at peace.
I don’t remember exactly what I was whispering at that moment, but we were both freaking out.
We heard some scratching noise. Long, dirty hands with sharp nails, almost inhumans, were piercing the pictures and paintings. The eyes of the people were becoming all black, and their jaws were opening more than humanly possible as they kept on repeating her name. The hands were all getting closer from us. We were now touching one another, completely surrounded by those hands. Then, they moved way faster and a lot of them got their nails right into Elizabeth’s skin and pierced it while descending all over her body.
She screamed loudly out of pain. It was a terrifying scream. All the hands got to their pictures and back inside of it while closing what they pierced. Soon, the pictures and paintings were back to normal, but Elizabeth was bleeding from all over her body and was on the floor, crying. I got to her level and tried as much as possible to reassure her, but I wasn’t very effective as I was myself in shock and terrified.
We heard the owner walk towards us.
“What’s happening to you two? I heard screams, are you okay?”
She entered the hallway and saw the scene. She looked completely shocked.
“But what happened?” She asked.
Both of us were unable to answer to her, we had no idea what to say that wouldn’t make us sound crazy, so we just looked at her with whatever faces we were making at that moment. She didn’t wait long and went to take a first aid kid. She sat down and put some bandages all over Elizabeth, as I was reflecting on what happened. When she was done, we both wanted to leave, so we said that we had what we needed for now. She looked sorry and packed some cookies for each of us. As we opened the door to leave, she articulated one last phrase.
“I hope you’ll come back.” She had a look and a tone of sadness. We got out and were now on the street.
We both looked at each other. She was covered in bands, like she got into a huge fight. I started to speak but she lifted her hand.
“Not today. Another one.” She said. “I’ll see you at school.” And she left.
I got on my way too and gave one last look to the house. The old owner was watching me from her window, and I couldn’t tell what her expression was.
I was too tired so I ignored it and went back to my house.
I’m posting this now that I’m back at home. I have no news of Elizabeth, but she did add me on Instagram, so…
I have no idea what I should do now, I have so many questions, so, if anyone has any theories, I’ll take it. I’m also open to questions of course…
2024.05.14 15:36 suddenlyeels Looking for a Comfy, Modest Bra for a Nursing Mama
Hello! I’ve been looking for a new bra since my baby was born a little over three months ago. I’m overwhelmed with my search and would like some advice or recommendations.
I don’t know if such a bra exists, but my dream bra would be breastfeeding-friendly (possibly a nursing bra, but not necessarily), look modest under a t-shirt (should hide poky nipples and nursing pads), and be comfortable. For me, comfortable means that it should minimize jiggling, be snug but not dig in anywhere, and not be sweaty (as much as can be helped when carrying/wearing a very warm baby). I’m especially looking for something that keeps my breasts from touching each other or the skin below my breasts, because that’s not fun when I’m feeling overstimulated. I guess this means I need some good support, but I’d prefer not to shape or accentuate my breasts a whole lot; I just want to contain them. Ideally, I think the band of my bra should come up under the inframammary fold, but I can’t seem to find a bra that does this on me; I’m rather saggy, especially post-baby. Nor can I find a bra that comes close enough to my sternum to separate my breasts.
I’ve tried a 34G flexiwire nursing bra from Hotmilk and initially liked it, but found it digs into my armpits and shoulders, and my breasts drag the underwire down lower on my ribcage than feels comfortable. I’ve defaulted back to wearing my too-old-to-read-the-tag wirefree bras (I think they were Vanity Fair 36DD?) and just pulling them up when I need to nurse. They’re still decently comfortable and definitely were more so when it was new; the band used to fit very tightly but got pretty stretched even before I started nursing. My main complaints with the old bras are now that I’ve gotten floppier, my breasts tend to escape when I run or bend over, and again, I’d really like something that keeps my breasts apart and off my chest. I’ve done some other shopping and trying on, especially of sports bras, but I haven’t found anything that fit in both band and cup at stores near me, and I find the buying-before-trying process of shopping online rather daunting.
The calculator made me a 32I/34H US (loose underbust 33”, snug 31.5”, tight 30”, standing bust 40”, leaning 43.5”, lying 41”), but the pictures I’ve seen of this size look much rounder and not as floppy as what I have.
I’m not sure if I need something different as far as sizing, shape, or style of bra. I’d love some bra recommendations, or even just advice on how to proceed. Thanks!
submitted by suddenlyeels to ABraThatFits [link] [comments]
I don’t know if such a bra exists, but my dream bra would be breastfeeding-friendly (possibly a nursing bra, but not necessarily), look modest under a t-shirt (should hide poky nipples and nursing pads), and be comfortable. For me, comfortable means that it should minimize jiggling, be snug but not dig in anywhere, and not be sweaty (as much as can be helped when carrying/wearing a very warm baby). I’m especially looking for something that keeps my breasts from touching each other or the skin below my breasts, because that’s not fun when I’m feeling overstimulated. I guess this means I need some good support, but I’d prefer not to shape or accentuate my breasts a whole lot; I just want to contain them. Ideally, I think the band of my bra should come up under the inframammary fold, but I can’t seem to find a bra that does this on me; I’m rather saggy, especially post-baby. Nor can I find a bra that comes close enough to my sternum to separate my breasts.
I’ve tried a 34G flexiwire nursing bra from Hotmilk and initially liked it, but found it digs into my armpits and shoulders, and my breasts drag the underwire down lower on my ribcage than feels comfortable. I’ve defaulted back to wearing my too-old-to-read-the-tag wirefree bras (I think they were Vanity Fair 36DD?) and just pulling them up when I need to nurse. They’re still decently comfortable and definitely were more so when it was new; the band used to fit very tightly but got pretty stretched even before I started nursing. My main complaints with the old bras are now that I’ve gotten floppier, my breasts tend to escape when I run or bend over, and again, I’d really like something that keeps my breasts apart and off my chest. I’ve done some other shopping and trying on, especially of sports bras, but I haven’t found anything that fit in both band and cup at stores near me, and I find the buying-before-trying process of shopping online rather daunting.
The calculator made me a 32I/34H US (loose underbust 33”, snug 31.5”, tight 30”, standing bust 40”, leaning 43.5”, lying 41”), but the pictures I’ve seen of this size look much rounder and not as floppy as what I have.
I’m not sure if I need something different as far as sizing, shape, or style of bra. I’d love some bra recommendations, or even just advice on how to proceed. Thanks!
2024.05.14 15:20 kwiyomikat I think Sam isolated herself
Let's go back to season one, where everything started and lowkey set the tone for everything else.
- JWOWW was the IT GIRL! 3/4 Guys and after the boyfriend reveal 2/4 Guys. Her and Ron stayed friends/bestfriends. To quote Ron; "Jlo is my go-to girl in the house."
- Angelina was her closest friend before she left the first time around. They cliqued up together to watch the guys, talk smack and just generally formed a bond in a short amount of time.
- Snooki. Although she disliked her at first towards the end she did really like her.
I think Sam was intimidated by Jenni and I think her insecurity stemmed from that. (For anybody who didn't know; Ron had a crush on Jenni from the NY Party Scene, but when he found out she had a BF he backed off.)
Examples: Snooki telling Sammi that Ronnie left with Jwoww and her first instinct is to "knock a b up." When she arrived, she assumed they hooked up. On Boardwalk Blowups, even though Snooki misspoke and included Jenni in her opinion, the way Sam reacted even after Ron found out it was just Snooki who felt that way. She still included Jenni. Before that she doubled down and said "I don't talk to anybody."
Now, for season two. Prior to S2 starting, Angelina did multiple interviews about JS including talking smack on Mike's cell on speaker phone. So- she was alr on everybody shit list because they agreed to not reveal anything. J420, Joey Yanks, Bill.
- Snooki is Sam's closest friend at this point, but she's also the smallest girl. Y'all know this comes into play when it's revealed Ron had been threatening her and even then pushed her. Even though she adamantly wanted to tell Sam, for safety reasons, she really couldn't. Snooki is 4'9.
- Jwoww was Sam's friend by proxy. They didn't have a deep enough relationship and she was more closer to Ron than Sam. Which makes it so much worse when you found out she told Sam to her face multiple times before the Note even happened.
- Angelina. Although a touchy subject. She really did try to give Ang another chance under the circumstances until Vinny revealed. Also, when she was leaving, Sam was like; "When your friend was over, you treated me very different."
Sam did tell Angelina she would be more inclined to forgive Snooki because "Snooki is harmless." But Snooki would never switch sides because in S1 after the punch, Jwoww really stuck to her side.
Finally, season three. A lot of fourth wall breaks because they made them watch S2 whilst filming S3.
- Deena. All because she's Snooki's friend. Very rude. That whole first night and D is small too.
Even though Sam apologized to Deena & Snooki. Deena said in a confessional, because Jwoww has always been nice to her, her loyalty is with Jwoww. Snooki went to talk to Jwoww about Sam apologizing and Jwoww said; "She didn't apologize to me." I don't think she ever did. Jwoww eventually extended an olive branch.
Honorable Mention: Season Four. Locals were hostile and didn't want them there. Mike going through withdrawals. Jenni had a miscarriage and her grandmother died. Ronpage.
- Sam in confessional said about Jwoww; "Who knew the two enemies in the house would be this close together."
What I take from this cause everybody was really scared. Deena gently pulling Sammi out of the room whilst Jenni tries to deescalate Ron. Vinny makes one off hand remark and Sammi took it literal towards the point Jenni is crying, pleading and begging for her to get out the room.
So I will say by the end of S4, she had girl friends. I'm happy after years of therapy and healing, they were able to have a sit down and discuss.
(No, I'm not defending Ron. I will say the Boys checked out of the Rammi relationship in s2. Mainly because Ron attacked Vinny, held Jenni down so Sam could hit her and etc. Although Vinny was the main one separating fights. The lot of them were sick of production letting it go so long and so far. Hell, even Angelina broke the fourth wall in s2 because Ronnie's interference was so bad. I, also think they used the Arvin Situation to keep them separated because they were mentally exhausted.)
submitted by kwiyomikat to jerseyshore [link] [comments]
- JWOWW was the IT GIRL! 3/4 Guys and after the boyfriend reveal 2/4 Guys. Her and Ron stayed friends/bestfriends. To quote Ron; "Jlo is my go-to girl in the house."
- Angelina was her closest friend before she left the first time around. They cliqued up together to watch the guys, talk smack and just generally formed a bond in a short amount of time.
- Snooki. Although she disliked her at first towards the end she did really like her.
I think Sam was intimidated by Jenni and I think her insecurity stemmed from that. (For anybody who didn't know; Ron had a crush on Jenni from the NY Party Scene, but when he found out she had a BF he backed off.)
Examples: Snooki telling Sammi that Ronnie left with Jwoww and her first instinct is to "knock a b up." When she arrived, she assumed they hooked up. On Boardwalk Blowups, even though Snooki misspoke and included Jenni in her opinion, the way Sam reacted even after Ron found out it was just Snooki who felt that way. She still included Jenni. Before that she doubled down and said "I don't talk to anybody."
Now, for season two. Prior to S2 starting, Angelina did multiple interviews about JS including talking smack on Mike's cell on speaker phone. So- she was alr on everybody shit list because they agreed to not reveal anything. J420, Joey Yanks, Bill.
- Snooki is Sam's closest friend at this point, but she's also the smallest girl. Y'all know this comes into play when it's revealed Ron had been threatening her and even then pushed her. Even though she adamantly wanted to tell Sam, for safety reasons, she really couldn't. Snooki is 4'9.
- Jwoww was Sam's friend by proxy. They didn't have a deep enough relationship and she was more closer to Ron than Sam. Which makes it so much worse when you found out she told Sam to her face multiple times before the Note even happened.
- Angelina. Although a touchy subject. She really did try to give Ang another chance under the circumstances until Vinny revealed. Also, when she was leaving, Sam was like; "When your friend was over, you treated me very different."
Sam did tell Angelina she would be more inclined to forgive Snooki because "Snooki is harmless." But Snooki would never switch sides because in S1 after the punch, Jwoww really stuck to her side.
Finally, season three. A lot of fourth wall breaks because they made them watch S2 whilst filming S3.
- Deena. All because she's Snooki's friend. Very rude. That whole first night and D is small too.
Even though Sam apologized to Deena & Snooki. Deena said in a confessional, because Jwoww has always been nice to her, her loyalty is with Jwoww. Snooki went to talk to Jwoww about Sam apologizing and Jwoww said; "She didn't apologize to me." I don't think she ever did. Jwoww eventually extended an olive branch.
Honorable Mention: Season Four. Locals were hostile and didn't want them there. Mike going through withdrawals. Jenni had a miscarriage and her grandmother died. Ronpage.
- Sam in confessional said about Jwoww; "Who knew the two enemies in the house would be this close together."
What I take from this cause everybody was really scared. Deena gently pulling Sammi out of the room whilst Jenni tries to deescalate Ron. Vinny makes one off hand remark and Sammi took it literal towards the point Jenni is crying, pleading and begging for her to get out the room.
So I will say by the end of S4, she had girl friends. I'm happy after years of therapy and healing, they were able to have a sit down and discuss.
(No, I'm not defending Ron. I will say the Boys checked out of the Rammi relationship in s2. Mainly because Ron attacked Vinny, held Jenni down so Sam could hit her and etc. Although Vinny was the main one separating fights. The lot of them were sick of production letting it go so long and so far. Hell, even Angelina broke the fourth wall in s2 because Ronnie's interference was so bad. I, also think they used the Arvin Situation to keep them separated because they were mentally exhausted.)
2024.05.14 15:16 nifty_caterpillars Man in HOA golf community repeatedly sexually harassing and assaulting clubhouse workers and getting away with it
There is a man in our neighborhood who is repeatedly sexually harasses and assaults golf cart girls and waitresses and continually gets away with it. What can we (neighbors) do legally?
I live with my parents in an HOA community on a golf course. Here is a list of things this man has done (and “consequences” he has received). All girls are in their early 20s.
Stuck money in a golf club waitresses bra. She reported this and nothing was done, so she quit and wrote a ton of our neighbors an email about how she was disappointed no one advocated for her and he didn’t suffer any consequences. We are able to see the email.
Another girl reported him for an unknown reason. He then waited until she was alone in the clubhouse and confronted her. She said he was yelling at her and saying she was full of shit. She quit shortly after and rumor is that she checked herself into a hospital (she had previous abuse in her past).
Said to another waitress “I wonder if you taste as good as you smell” he was suspended for this comment for 3 months.
Said to another girl when asking her name “how about I call you Princess”
This last girl was a waitress at our clubhouse and he walked up to her and put his hand on her back and slid it down to her butt and rubbed her butt. She immediately walked away and told her coworkers and filed a report that night. Apparently the people who own the company questioned him and two coworkers and he denied it and her coworkers said they didn’t witness anything. The company told her if she doesn’t make this a thing they would give her more hours so she could quit her other job. She took this opportunity. They also told her that she needs to wait on this man like it never happened.
Each time these events are brought up, he gets a light consequence (short suspension) or just a vocal warning. And he continues to do it. Most of my neighbors and I are fed up. He is disgusting and these are young girls who need these jobs. His wife is supporting him. Now, he is threatening to sue neighbors for defamation of character for talking about these incidents.
My question is: Is there anything legally that we can do as a community to ban him from our community centers? Should/can we consult with a lawyer? Can he actually sue us for spreading the word about his actions?
We were thinking of creating a petition and bringing it up at our next board meeting to show how strongly our community stands against him. The newest girl that he touched on the butt will not go to the police.
Also, these are happening in different time frames, different clubhouses. So these girls don’t know each other and unlucky they would be conspiring against him. It’s always the same man. Thanks for any guidance or help.
submitted by nifty_caterpillars to legaladvice [link] [comments]
I live with my parents in an HOA community on a golf course. Here is a list of things this man has done (and “consequences” he has received). All girls are in their early 20s.
Stuck money in a golf club waitresses bra. She reported this and nothing was done, so she quit and wrote a ton of our neighbors an email about how she was disappointed no one advocated for her and he didn’t suffer any consequences. We are able to see the email.
Another girl reported him for an unknown reason. He then waited until she was alone in the clubhouse and confronted her. She said he was yelling at her and saying she was full of shit. She quit shortly after and rumor is that she checked herself into a hospital (she had previous abuse in her past).
Said to another waitress “I wonder if you taste as good as you smell” he was suspended for this comment for 3 months.
Said to another girl when asking her name “how about I call you Princess”
This last girl was a waitress at our clubhouse and he walked up to her and put his hand on her back and slid it down to her butt and rubbed her butt. She immediately walked away and told her coworkers and filed a report that night. Apparently the people who own the company questioned him and two coworkers and he denied it and her coworkers said they didn’t witness anything. The company told her if she doesn’t make this a thing they would give her more hours so she could quit her other job. She took this opportunity. They also told her that she needs to wait on this man like it never happened.
Each time these events are brought up, he gets a light consequence (short suspension) or just a vocal warning. And he continues to do it. Most of my neighbors and I are fed up. He is disgusting and these are young girls who need these jobs. His wife is supporting him. Now, he is threatening to sue neighbors for defamation of character for talking about these incidents.
My question is: Is there anything legally that we can do as a community to ban him from our community centers? Should/can we consult with a lawyer? Can he actually sue us for spreading the word about his actions?
We were thinking of creating a petition and bringing it up at our next board meeting to show how strongly our community stands against him. The newest girl that he touched on the butt will not go to the police.
Also, these are happening in different time frames, different clubhouses. So these girls don’t know each other and unlucky they would be conspiring against him. It’s always the same man. Thanks for any guidance or help.
2024.05.14 15:01 FelicitySmoak_ Tuesday, May 14, 2013 - Jackson v. AEG Live Day 11
Trial Day 11
Katherine Jackson, Rebbie and Trent are at court.
Choreographer Travis Payne & Katherine Jackson spoke briefly in the courtroom before the jury came in. They seemed cordial
Travis Payne Testimony
AEG direct
Payne is wearing a black jacket with a gold emblem on the shoulders with the word "MJ" & a pair of wings
Payne said he was concerned about MJ missing rehearsals. He didn't know why he wasn't showing up, but MJ was also working on an album and a book
Payne said he did not think that Jackson had a problem abusing prescription medications. He acknowledged that Jackson missed rehearsals and he saw the singer shivering or appearing cold in some of his final rehearsals
He worked with Jackson beginning in the 1990's and testified that he never saw Jackson drink alcohol or take any medications. Michael also never discussed his medical treatments, Payne said
Payne told the jury he advised MJ he was looking thin.
Payne said there was one day (6/19) when MJ was cold. He thought the frustration had him on edge. When Jackson needed to be layered in blankets and required a heater to be comfortable, Payne said, he believed Michael was merely fighting a cold.
Bina shows an email from Ortega to Gongaware on Jun 14:
Bina asked Payne whether he ever met Conrad Murray. The choreographer says he met Murray twice. Payne says the first time he met Dr. Murray was at the Carolwood house.
When asked how Michael performed on June 23 & 24:
Payne described the day MJ died: He was headed to rehearsal at Michael's home, got a call from his mother who said she saw reports on the news. Payne heard news on the radio, called Staples Center spoke to Stacy Walker, she said they were rehearsing. He was told to go to Staples.
Payne mentioned one day in particular at a meeting with Andre Crouch and singers, MJ seemed a little out of it
Payne said at one point, he & others tried to bring in a top physical therapist who works with Olympic athletes to help Michael. Jackson didn't work w/physical therapist flown in for him.
Jackson cross
Attorney Brian Panish cross examined Payne. He asked if Michael ever performed the entire show from beginning to end. Payne said "No"
As to Paris Jackson, Payne said he saw a very protective young lady, smart, astute, with knowledge of the production, very hands on. Paris, who was 11 at the time, was
Payne always carries a video camera with him and shot videos of rehearsal. AEG took the footage that Payne shot and never returned to him. Email from Randy to Paul:
As for Michael's relationship with Katherine, Payne said
Payne said he wanted MJ to have a physical therapist, nutritionist, massage therapist, and have his family around. He said this was a different scenario.
Payne was hired and paid by AEG. His contract was with AEG.
Payne said he wasn't privy to details of what was expected of Dr. Murray. AEG was producepromoter, but MJ was the star, had to be happy
Panish reminded Payne that he had testified in his deposition that AEG was
Under cross examination, Payne acknowledged that some of Jackson's behavior, including grogginess, lethargy, insomnia and occasional paranoia, were possible symptoms of prescription drug abuse. He also said that despite testifying earlier that he worked with Jackson one-on-one five days a week, he couldn't recall how many rehearsals the singer actually attended
Panish after lunch break got Travis Payne to concede Jackson wasn't present for a May 19, 2009 rehearsal. Payne also conceded that Jackson was a no-show for a June 22, 2009 rehearsal. Panish confronted Payne saying that yesterday he said he was with MJ at a dance studio on May 19, that they were up on their feet & danced.
Panish then said on Jun 22 MJ wasn't there either, "was he?"
Payne said he didn't know.
Panish said MJ was at another doctor's office
Payne said he may have made a mistake about Jackson's whereabouts & he didn't know his personal schedule. Travis Payne had testified yesterday that he and Jackson ran through certain songs on May 19th. He said today he was testifying based on the schedule and notes he compiled and that his recollection might be wrong
Panish asked Payne about choosing Jackson's dancers for This Is It. Payne says they were whittled down from 5,000 applicants. Applicants submitted video clips and their submissions were used to cull down potential dancers from there. Payne said they received 5,000 applications for dancers, about 2,500 showed up for the audition.He taught them some dance moves, and the pool was further narrowed down. Michael chose the dancers
Panish then asked Payne whether he knew how many doctors AEG interviewed to work with Jackson on This Is It. "No", Payne says. Payne also says he isn't aware how much interviewing or investigation into Murray that AEG did.(Panish's point appears to be that there was more scrutiny of backup dancers than Conrad Murray)
During preparations for This Is It, Michael at times seemed "under the influence of something" and once couldn't take the stage because he appeared incoherent, Payne testified.
Payne said he was aware that Jackson had problems sleeping and chalked up the singer's sometimes erratic behavior to sleep aids or sedatives from his dermatologist visits.
Payne said some people were concerned about the goals not being met, including Randy Phillips and Paul Gongaware. Payne learned what Demerol was after MJ died. He also remembers a mention of Demerol in the song "Morphine".
Panish asked if MJ knew the lyrics of his songs.
Payne said a body double was requested for Michael. Misha Gabriel was his body double, but shorter than him. Some of the scenes in the documentary are with the body double, Payne testified. Payne remembers at the Culver Studios in Smooth Criminal there was a stunt and Misha was asked to jump through a glass plate
Payne said most the time, MJ was present at rehearsals. "It wasn't a big deal," he expressed
Panish showed an email from the band leader Michael Bearden:
Payne went to Michael's house on June 20. He was cold and had to light the fireplace and rub his hand and feet to warm himself up
Panish showed a picture of Michael on June 24 rehearsing "Thriller"; Payne said MJ improved but was not at his best yet.
Payne's demeanor changed after Panish finished questioning him. He was holding back tears when the AEG attorney started re-direct examination. For the next several moments, Payne blinked and dabbed both eyes with a tissue. It was the first time he'd gotten emotional on the stand.
As to Gongaware's email regarding what was expected of Dr. Murray, Payne said the inconsistencies with Michael missing rehearsals warrant a talk. Payne said he thought Dr. Murray was there to care for his patient, making sure right nutritionist was there, to get him ready for the show. Payne never discussed with MJ about his doctors or personal affairs. Payne and Faye were professionals with each other, but not friends.
Jackson re-cross
In re-cross, Panish notes that none of Michael's brothers are part of this lawsuit.
Panish then asked Payne whether Katherine Jackson and Michael's kids went to the premiere. Panish says Katherine Jackson & her grandchildren didn't go to the premiere because they weren't over Jackson's death. Payne said he didn't think anyone was over Jackson's death when the film premiered in late 2009.
Court Transcript
submitted by FelicitySmoak_ to WhereWasMJToday [link] [comments]
Katherine Jackson, Rebbie and Trent are at court.
Choreographer Travis Payne & Katherine Jackson spoke briefly in the courtroom before the jury came in. They seemed cordial
Travis Payne Testimony
AEG direct
Payne is wearing a black jacket with a gold emblem on the shoulders with the word "MJ" & a pair of wings
Payne said he was concerned about MJ missing rehearsals. He didn't know why he wasn't showing up, but MJ was also working on an album and a book
Payne said he did not think that Jackson had a problem abusing prescription medications. He acknowledged that Jackson missed rehearsals and he saw the singer shivering or appearing cold in some of his final rehearsals
He worked with Jackson beginning in the 1990's and testified that he never saw Jackson drink alcohol or take any medications. Michael also never discussed his medical treatments, Payne said
Payne told the jury he advised MJ he was looking thin.
"Michael said he was 'getting down to my fighting weight', which I took to mean that he was preparing for the performances", Payne testified. "I had no reason to doubt him"Payne says he was satisfied with the response.
Payne said there was one day (6/19) when MJ was cold. He thought the frustration had him on edge. When Jackson needed to be layered in blankets and required a heater to be comfortable, Payne said, he believed Michael was merely fighting a cold.
"No one else was cold. He had flu-like symptoms"Payne said that in April, May & June, MJ missed 5 rehearsals with the whole group. He said one time Ortega sent Michael home
"Sometimes he was tired and lethargic and had to be, not convinced, but supported throughout rehearsals," Payne recalled
Bina shows an email from Ortega to Gongaware on Jun 14:
"Were you aware that Michael's doctor didn't permit him to attend rehearsal yesterday? Without invading his privacy, it might be a good idea to talk to his doctor to make sure everything he requires is in place. Who is responsible for Michael getting proper nourishment/vitamins/therapy every day? Personally, I feel he should have a top Nutritionist and Physical Therapist working with him on a regular basis. The demand on this guy is mentally and physically extraordinary! The show requirements exhaust our 20 year olds. Please don't underestimate the need to stay on top of this"Another part of the same email chain, from Gongaware:
"Frank and I have discussed it already and have requested a face-to-face meeting w/ the doctor... We want to remind him that it's AEG not Michael Jackson who's paying his salary We want him to understand what is expected of him. He has been dodging Frank so farPayne said his understanding was that AEG was paying Dr. Murray's salary not Michael. The doctor was there to oversee many things, Payne said. Payne explained he didn't have much reason to question Dr. Murray since he thought that a doctor selected to work with Michael was top notch.
Bina asked Payne whether he ever met Conrad Murray. The choreographer says he met Murray twice. Payne says the first time he met Dr. Murray was at the Carolwood house.
"I was going up the steps, Dr. Murray going downstairs, Michael introduced us."Payne was coming up from the basement to the middle floor. Studio was at the basement. Payne said he never went to the top floor of the house. He says the second time was at the Staples Center, after a rehearsal and Jackson was leaving for the day. Both meetings were brief.
When asked how Michael performed on June 23 & 24:
"He was having his process, I didn't expect him to be like he would in front of a crowd," Payne explained. "He was not at show standards ... I didn't expect him to be as he would be in front of a crowd."The last two days were good.
Payne: "It ebbed and flowed. Some days were good, some days were not as good."
"I thought he was in his way to the goals he set himself," Payne told the jury.He didn't have any question that MJ would be able to perform , adding that he and others were impressed while watching Jackson rehearse at Staples Center on June 23/24, 2009.
Payne described the day MJ died: He was headed to rehearsal at Michael's home, got a call from his mother who said she saw reports on the news. Payne heard news on the radio, called Staples Center spoke to Stacy Walker, she said they were rehearsing. He was told to go to Staples.
"We were optimistic of his arrival," Payne said explaining they were expecting Michael to rehearse at the Staples Center.Payne said Ortega got a series of calls. He remembers Kenny saying:
'tell me something that will make me know it's you and that this is true'
" I remember him (Kenny Ortega) collapsing in his seat and crying," Payne testifiedPayne said he never saw Michael drink alcohol or take medication but
"Sometimes, in rehearsal, Michael would appear just a little loopy, under the influence of something, but mostly when he would come to the rehearsals from the dermatologist," Payne testified.That happened two to four times in the weeks before his death, he said. Payne told that he didn't think Jackson had a problem with prescription drugs
"Michael was undergoing personal cosmetic procedures, so he could feel great and do a good job," Payne said.Payne also said he appeared groggy in the morning sometimes, which he attributed to lack of sleep
"Mr. Jackson just explained to me that he had trouble sleeping, that he was tired, and that satisfied me," Payne testified.He stated that he's not sure how much weight MJ had lost
Payne mentioned one day in particular at a meeting with Andre Crouch and singers, MJ seemed a little out of it
Payne said at one point, he & others tried to bring in a top physical therapist who works with Olympic athletes to help Michael. Jackson didn't work w/physical therapist flown in for him.
"At the last minute we realized that Michael was not going to go through with it. He was just not comfortable with the invasion of personal space."Bina played a clip of This Is It from Jun 4 showing the green screen and making of "Drill" and Michael talking about the cool moves, dancing. Payne said the idea was to show the rehearsals and how things came together. The footage itself wasn't altered, but there was editing. Payne said they picked the best of the rehearsal to include in the documentary. He wanted to reshoot some scenes but was not allowed. Payne, who was an associate producer on the This Is It documentary, said the footage of Jackson had not been retouched or altered.
Jackson cross
Attorney Brian Panish cross examined Payne. He asked if Michael ever performed the entire show from beginning to end. Payne said "No"
"Was he ready to perform for an audience?", Panish asked.Payne's impression was that MJ loved being a father. He said he saw the beauty of their relationships, loyalty to one another.
"I thought he was on his way to the goals he had set for himself," Payne answered. "All I saw was improvement and getting closer to the goals"
"When we rehearsed, we had meals together," Payne recalled, talking about Michael and all three children.Payne thought the relationship between MJ and Prince was awesome, Michael was a proud father, great to see how they interacted. Prince wanted to be a director, Michael would point out things to him during rehearsal should that be his career, Payne remembered.
As to Paris Jackson, Payne said he saw a very protective young lady, smart, astute, with knowledge of the production, very hands on. Paris, who was 11 at the time, was
"a very retentive young lady who was very, very smart, very astute," Payne testified. "She had full knowledge of the day-to-day operations, from the time of lunch and what it was going to be, she was hands on -- far beyond her age," he said. "She had a lot of responsibility, which I think she welcomed"Payne said she was "the female of the house," and also "a daddy's girl."
"She really loved her father," he said. "At that time, she was coming to find out his global successes and presence, so she would wear her Michael Jackson t-shirt, headband and bag," he said.It was Paris who would bless the food when they were have lunch with their father at home, he said.
"She was always the most vocal of the three children and was very concerned about many of the details of the house, was the temperature correct, what do you want to eat," Payne testified. "She just handled a lot for her young age"Blanket, who was 7 when his father died, was the most quiet of the three. He liked to watch his father rehearsing his dances with Payne in the basement studio of their home, Payne said.
"He was quiet, but always right there with his dad," he said.Michael guided and mentored him. Payne said he would be proud if MJ was his father and agreed the children suffered a tremendous loss. When rehearsing with Jackson at his Holmby Hills residence, Payne said the singer clearly delighted in being a father and shared meals with all three
"I saw the beauty of their relationships. I saw their loyalty to their father, I saw his loyalty to them. Their father enlightened them and taught them", he testified. "I was very proud to see Michael as such a loving father."His description of the close relationship Paris (15) and Prince (16) had with their father four years ago could foreshadow the significance of the children's testimony later in the trial.
Panish: "Was Paris a Daddy's girl?"
Payne: "Yes, I believe so"
Payne always carries a video camera with him and shot videos of rehearsal. AEG took the footage that Payne shot and never returned to him. Email from Randy to Paul:
"Make sure you take out the shots of Michael in that red jacket... He looks way too thin and skeletal."Payne said he was not aware of the email. He said Michael looked thin, but not skeletal. He doesn't know if Paul/Randy took any the footage out. The email was not displayed for the jury
As for Michael's relationship with Katherine, Payne said
"there's no secret that he loved his mother very much. It is kind of common knowledge"
"Karen Faye is a make up artist. She designed the make up, was always there when Michael was there", Payne testified.Payne said Faye and MJ had a long term working relationship. They spent a lot of personal time together. Faye was concerned and frustrated with how Michael looked. She went to Payne kind of in an aggressive way. Payne told her to report to Ortega.
Payne said he wanted MJ to have a physical therapist, nutritionist, massage therapist, and have his family around. He said this was a different scenario.
"This was the first time MJ was working with AEG," Payne testified, saying he had always been hired by MJJ production before.Payne said this was the first time Michael was not the sole producer of the show. Payne started working without a signed contract. He was being paid by AEG. Panish showed Payne's written contract. It is between Payne and AEG, beginning April 1, 2009. The contract said only AEG could cancel it. He testified that there was a delay in his contract with AEG because the salary was not in line with his standard charges, but that things worked out after he had a conversation with Jackson. Payne also said he believed AEG was paying Murray's salary, not Jackson
Payne was hired and paid by AEG. His contract was with AEG.
Panish: "Who could fire you. AEG?"Things became heated when Panish inquired about a text message Karen Faye sent to Payne that accused him of lying to the media after Michael's death. He said earlier Faye had approached him in an "aggressive" way about her concern for Jackson's health but he told her to take her concerns to Ortega.
Payne: "I'm sure"
"I do not remember receiving a text message from Karen Faye asking why I was lying to the media," Payne explained.During cross-examination, Payne was shown several photos of premieres for the This Is It documentary .Panish shows a picture of Payne at the red carpet premiere. He agreed he was happy about the premiere. In one, Ortega & AEG executive Randy Phillips flank Jackson's manager, Frank DiLeo, who has a cigar hanging out of his mouth. All three are grinning. Brian Panish, the attorney for Jackson's family, remarked that everyone looked pretty happy
Panish: "Were you upset when MJ died?"
Payne: "Yes"
Payne said he wasn't privy to details of what was expected of Dr. Murray. AEG was producepromoter, but MJ was the star, had to be happy
Panish reminded Payne that he had testified in his deposition that AEG was
"trying to protect its investment"
"I don't have a dog in this race so I'm not on either side", an aggravated Payne countered adding that he felt Panish was being aggressive. "I'm just saying I don't want to be painted as somebody who's trying to mask anything".After several hours of testy exchanges with Panish, his voice quivered and he dabbed his eyes with a tissue.
"I'm just trying to have a conversation with you and tell the truth."Panish asked Payne if defendants' attorney approached him during lunch to show him some documents. He said yes, he saw parts of his deposition
Under cross examination, Payne acknowledged that some of Jackson's behavior, including grogginess, lethargy, insomnia and occasional paranoia, were possible symptoms of prescription drug abuse. He also said that despite testifying earlier that he worked with Jackson one-on-one five days a week, he couldn't recall how many rehearsals the singer actually attended
Panish after lunch break got Travis Payne to concede Jackson wasn't present for a May 19, 2009 rehearsal. Payne also conceded that Jackson was a no-show for a June 22, 2009 rehearsal. Panish confronted Payne saying that yesterday he said he was with MJ at a dance studio on May 19, that they were up on their feet & danced.
Panish: "Sir, Michael was not with you May 19, 2009, was he?"Panish said that on May 19, Michael was having a cyst removed at Dr. Klein's office, so he could not have been rehearsing with Payne.
Payne: "No"
Panish: "He was at the doctor"
Payne: "If you're saying, I'm not disputing"
Panish then said on Jun 22 MJ wasn't there either, "was he?"
Payne said he didn't know.
Panish said MJ was at another doctor's office
Payne said he may have made a mistake about Jackson's whereabouts & he didn't know his personal schedule. Travis Payne had testified yesterday that he and Jackson ran through certain songs on May 19th. He said today he was testifying based on the schedule and notes he compiled and that his recollection might be wrong
"We're human, sometimes we make mistakes," Payne explained, saying he's not disputing that Michael was or wasn't there on those dates.Payne said there was always something for Michael to do.
"He needed to come to rehearsal, it was part of the job"Payne said Michael had a hard time picking up some of the material. He was having trouble learning dances, Payne says. Email from Ortega to Gongaware:
"He has been slow at grabbing hold of the work"Jackson was having trouble learning dances, choreographer Travis Payne says
"Prior to June, I noticed Mr. Jackson was thinner than I recognized him," Payne said, noting he never saw sudden weight change in MJ.Second time Payne saw Dr. Murray was the night before Michael died at Staples Center.
"I wanted Michael to go home and go to sleep" Payne recalls. Payne said something about Murray felt off, Payne said. "He didn't feel like an official doctor"Payne knew MJ had sleeping problems and that Dr. Murray was treating him for that. Ortega also knew; Payne thought Gongaware was aware too. Payne also said he and Ortega knew that Jackson was having sleep problems. Attorney Brian Panish asks if AEG executives knew. There were several objections, and Payne was only allowed to answer "No" as to whether Paul Gongaware knew about Michael's sleep problems
Panish asked Payne about choosing Jackson's dancers for This Is It. Payne says they were whittled down from 5,000 applicants. Applicants submitted video clips and their submissions were used to cull down potential dancers from there. Payne said they received 5,000 applications for dancers, about 2,500 showed up for the audition.He taught them some dance moves, and the pool was further narrowed down. Michael chose the dancers
Panish then asked Payne whether he knew how many doctors AEG interviewed to work with Jackson on This Is It. "No", Payne says. Payne also says he isn't aware how much interviewing or investigation into Murray that AEG did.(Panish's point appears to be that there was more scrutiny of backup dancers than Conrad Murray)
During preparations for This Is It, Michael at times seemed "under the influence of something" and once couldn't take the stage because he appeared incoherent, Payne testified.
Payne said he was aware that Jackson had problems sleeping and chalked up the singer's sometimes erratic behavior to sleep aids or sedatives from his dermatologist visits.
"You have to understand that one always says hindsight is 20/20. In the moment I had no inkling of what, ultimately, what was revealed until Mr. Jackson's passing", he saidPayne saw Michael tired and fatigued. He agreed that those symptoms could be signs of drug addiction. Payne was aware that MJ was losing weight during rehearsals and he had not seeing him lose weight like that before.
"He was not in great physical shape and was sore,working up his stamina. Lack of sleep and proper nourishment were starting to show", Payne said.Payne says at one point, he told Kenny Ortega that Jackson appeared "assisted" (meaning that he thought he was on drugs\meds)
Payne said some people were concerned about the goals not being met, including Randy Phillips and Paul Gongaware. Payne learned what Demerol was after MJ died. He also remembers a mention of Demerol in the song "Morphine".
Panish asked if MJ knew the lyrics of his songs.
"I think he did, he knew most of them, but he wanted to have a Teleprompter for safety.He didn't want to make any mistakes, to refresh his memory. Also to use for sequence of songs",Payne said.Payne agreed that it was very unusual for Michael to have a Teleprompter with the lyrics of his own songs. He never used it before. Payne didn't specify which songs Jackson wanted the teleprompter for
Payne said a body double was requested for Michael. Misha Gabriel was his body double, but shorter than him. Some of the scenes in the documentary are with the body double, Payne testified. Payne remembers at the Culver Studios in Smooth Criminal there was a stunt and Misha was asked to jump through a glass plate
Payne said most the time, MJ was present at rehearsals. "It wasn't a big deal," he expressed
Panish showed an email from the band leader Michael Bearden:
"Michael is not in shape enough yet to sing this stuff live and dance at the same time. He can use the ballads to sing live and get his stamina back up, Once he's healthy enough and has more strength I Have full confidence he can sing the majority of the show live. His voice sounds amazing right now, he needs to build it back up. I still need all big dance numbers to be in the system so we can concentrate on choreography."Payne was aware that AEG was considering in mid June pulling the plug on the show. He said Michael looked exhausted & paranoid on Jun 19. Jackson's condition and missed rehearsals led to talk within the last 10 days of Jackson's life that AEG Live LLC, which was promoting "This Is It," might cancel the concert series.
"It was 'We've got to get this together or the plug may be pulled,'" Payne saysPayne was working for AEG and said he relayed his concerns about Jackson's possible prescription drug use and that he was exhibiting troubling signs of insomnia, weight loss and paranoia in his final days to tour director Kenny Ortega. Jackson was struggling to get into shape for the shows, and Payne said his voice coach suggested using a voice track for fast-paced songs until the singer's stamina improved.
Payne went to Michael's house on June 20. He was cold and had to light the fireplace and rub his hand and feet to warm himself up
Panish showed a picture of Michael on June 24 rehearsing "Thriller"; Payne said MJ improved but was not at his best yet.
Panish: "Around June 20, was Ortega in the mindset that Michael Jackson was not ready for this?" Payne: "Yes"Payne said Michael was not ready, it was not the Michael he knew. He died four days later. But he didn't see anything that alarmed him on June 23/24
Panish:" Did you see that Michael was getting pressured to get everything done in the last days?" Payne: "Yes"Payne said he could sense something was wrong, but didn't know what it was. He said Jackson's performances in the final days of his life were impressive, and it felt
"like we were definitely on an upswing"
"I never doubted Michael because he was the architect of this and he wanted to do it, so part of my responsibility was to help him get there", Payne said, his voice racked with emotion.Panish ended his direct examination of choreographer Travis Payne with three questions.
Panish: "Did you see that Michael Jackson appeared to be pressured to get everything done at the Staples last rehearsals?"AEG re-direct
"Yes," Payne said
Panish: "The pressure about the shows started to manifest itself physically in Michael Jackson?"
"Yes," Payne replied.
Panish:" You could sense that something was wrong, you just didn't know what it was?"
Payne responded "Yes."
Payne's demeanor changed after Panish finished questioning him. He was holding back tears when the AEG attorney started re-direct examination. For the next several moments, Payne blinked and dabbed both eyes with a tissue. It was the first time he'd gotten emotional on the stand.
Bina in re-direct asked: "Do you think you could get him there?"Bina asked Payne again about how many rehearsals Jackson attended. Payne said MJ was present a significant amount of the days he was scheduled to work but he couldn't recall dates, precisely how many that Jackson attended.
Payne: "Absolutely!"
As to Gongaware's email regarding what was expected of Dr. Murray, Payne said the inconsistencies with Michael missing rehearsals warrant a talk. Payne said he thought Dr. Murray was there to care for his patient, making sure right nutritionist was there, to get him ready for the show. Payne never discussed with MJ about his doctors or personal affairs. Payne and Faye were professionals with each other, but not friends.
"Production felt he wasn't coming to rehearsals enough, and that was frustrating to some of the staff," Payne testified. "I had a concern we needed to create a show Michael would enjoy doing it," Payne explainedShe also showed Payne photos from the This Is It premiere. First photo is of Payne shaking Jermaine Jackson's hand at the movie premiere. Bina also showed another image of smiling Jermaine, Tito, Jackie and Marlon with Payne at the premiere. Payne cried saying he had been through so much and the rough part was behind them. He was pleased to show the fans what the show was to be.
Jackson re-cross
In re-cross, Panish notes that none of Michael's brothers are part of this lawsuit.
Panish then asked Payne whether Katherine Jackson and Michael's kids went to the premiere. Panish says Katherine Jackson & her grandchildren didn't go to the premiere because they weren't over Jackson's death. Payne said he didn't think anyone was over Jackson's death when the film premiered in late 2009.
Court Transcript
2024.05.14 14:03 vladiVP I need advice
I need advice
(Almost 19M here)
I walked long way in improvement with women (confidence, awareness, inner game, aura, psychology, outer game) and finally found a girl I vibe with, connect with and actually felt romantically bond... or in love for the first time ever in my life.
She seemed into me since summer 2023 but we didnt really talk much until February 2024 when she started giving IOIs such as "I wanna get invited to your birthday again", "wanna watch a kickboxing game of yours" or stuff like that. She used to be really touchy with me when I sat next to her in class. I flirted and day by day escalated things - our class planned to have a vila party and she was down to drinking wine with me in the pool of the house. I kinda pussied out and she became cold and distant but I built it again and last night we were to a night club and I had balls and she didnt seem to reject or hesitate me being touchy and flirty. I know she never had experience with that as well so I was trying to comfort her and be gentle and so on sk she let me touch her ass tighs etc she never just pulled off (in contrast I girl I was on a date with just took my hand and throw it lol)being close to me. I kissed her on the cheek little of nowhere, idk I felt it so and she didnt show that she doesnt like it or wants it to stop
Then me she and a female friend of ours left and I suggested I could walk her home or stuff and she just was avoiding me for god's sake, she did not even say a goodbye
She is kinda emotionally undeveloped and acts as she is 12-13
Idk what happened and if I should ask her if something's wrong, but it really hurts
submitted by vladiVP to dating_advice [link] [comments]
(Almost 19M here)
I walked long way in improvement with women (confidence, awareness, inner game, aura, psychology, outer game) and finally found a girl I vibe with, connect with and actually felt romantically bond... or in love for the first time ever in my life.
She seemed into me since summer 2023 but we didnt really talk much until February 2024 when she started giving IOIs such as "I wanna get invited to your birthday again", "wanna watch a kickboxing game of yours" or stuff like that. She used to be really touchy with me when I sat next to her in class. I flirted and day by day escalated things - our class planned to have a vila party and she was down to drinking wine with me in the pool of the house. I kinda pussied out and she became cold and distant but I built it again and last night we were to a night club and I had balls and she didnt seem to reject or hesitate me being touchy and flirty. I know she never had experience with that as well so I was trying to comfort her and be gentle and so on sk she let me touch her ass tighs etc she never just pulled off (in contrast I girl I was on a date with just took my hand and throw it lol)being close to me. I kissed her on the cheek little of nowhere, idk I felt it so and she didnt show that she doesnt like it or wants it to stop
Then me she and a female friend of ours left and I suggested I could walk her home or stuff and she just was avoiding me for god's sake, she did not even say a goodbye
She is kinda emotionally undeveloped and acts as she is 12-13
Idk what happened and if I should ask her if something's wrong, but it really hurts
2024.05.14 14:01 Zappingsbrew A post talking about 400 words
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2024.05.14 13:29 Nostalgia_town [BOATS] Tale of a train journey
It was a winter morning, and I was standing on the railway station of Adityapur, one of Asia’s largest industrial hubs in the outskirts of Jamshedpur, formally known as TATANAGAR, the city known for TATAs & their steel. I updated my current whereabouts to my mother just before boarding the Tata-Gua passenger train, sounding her on my expected time to reach home. I was visiting home after 2 months, the longest interval in the 3.5 years at NIT Jamshedpur due to my business around hosting the first alumni meet of NIT Jamshedpur and a 15-day train travel across India through Jagriti Yatra. I was just carrying my laptop bag as it was a usual 2/3-day trip and I just had my Compaq laptop, a change of clothes & charger to be precise beside my small blue denim wallet & a Samsung smart phone. In 2012, smart phones were just stepping in and my brother-in law was generous enough to lend it to me to take pictures of the places I visit & the events I attend during Jagriti Yatra. Jagriti Yatra is a train ride across India with 600 yatris from different countries, different walks of life who embark on this journey to learn about various social & business enterprise. In that day’s train journey, I was travelling with a batchmate who would get down 2 stations before mine. We’d travel together many times during the four years, and we’d always take the morning train instead of the evening one. It was a passenger train which was always very crowded, and it passed through many small stations in that belt which were dimly lit, these stations were primarily existing to connect industries to the mining towns of Noamundi, Barbil, Jhinkpani and had goods trains plying with iron ore, limestone, cement, so evening trains seemed unsafe for girls travelling alone. Jhinkpani was a small town in that belt with a cement factory, ACC Cements, and a residential township for it. My dad had booked the station trip which was a Maruti Van to ply the resident of the colony from station to the colony which was around 3 kms away & there was no public transport available in this route. I was waiting to board the train all excited to show my parents the pictures of the Yatra clicked on the borrowed smart phone, I’d also met my sister and niece at Visakhapatnam while we visited Akshaya Patra mega kitchen and I remember getting clicked a cute photo of me holding my niece at the station but my excitement was short lived as soon as I kept the phone in the small zipper pocket of my laptop bag. I was modestly dressed in a kurta and leggings, without pockets of-course, pockets are a recent phenomenon in women’s Indian clothing. So, my phone and wallet were always kept in the bag.
As I boarded the train along with around 20 other people from that gate, I felt a sudden force pulling me back, but I managed to steer my way inside but with an eerie feeling, I quickly reached out to check the tiny pocket immediately only to find that both the wallet & the borrowed phone were gone. A shiver ran up my spine and I started to feel numb. There was Rs 200 in cash in that wallet which was a month of pocket money, my SBI ATM card and college i-card. Now, having zero cash, no phone I went about near the gate to see if I can find it, I spoke to couple of people but barely anyone knew Hindi, and it struck me real hard that reaching home was my single motto now. Although scared that I would be scolded by parents for being reckless, I had a sinking feeling as to how would I break this news to my sister & my brother-in-law whose smart phone I’d lost, what would I do about all the lost contacts that I’d woven so meticulously while organizing the alumni meet, what of the memories that I’d captured during the Yatra. My brain started to fizzle with all these entrapping thoughts when my friend shook me to bring me back to the dreaded train which was my reality then and I started planning my next course of action. I first called my mother from my friend’s phone to tell her about the loss, she comforted me and then she informed my dad to arrange a vehicle from the station, the trip was booked but it’d sometimes leave passengers if there are more people than capacity or not turn up due to technical glitch in the age old van that was used. My friend got down at Chaibasa and my heart started racing more as people around me in the train knew my situation and vulnerability and I tried to pose a strong and confident front. The train took more than 20 minutes to travel 17 kms but for me it seemed like ages, the sight of Jhinkpani station never made me so relieved. I quickly deboarded the train, holding on to my bag tightly this time and found a friend waiting there in his Maruti 800. He happened to have met my dad while coming to the station for a personal work and my dad asked him to pick me as well. I finally reached home travelling without a phone and a penny in pocket, my mom was so glad to see me safe and sound. I was taken aback a little to see her overtly calm demeanor at the face of such an adversary and having no concern whatsoever for my lost phone or the wallet. She prayed and thanked God for my safe return and narrated about her dream which she saw about me the previous night. She was very disturbed by it, and she’d been praying from dawn that day for my well-being as the dream was a very bad omen for me. She felt relieved that it was only few items that were lost, and I was completely unharmed. Mother’s love manifests in mysterious ways I thought while gobbling on my favorite sambar, rice that afternoon. Meanwhile, my dad deactivated my ATM card and arranged an old makeshift phone for me to be used in the remaining two months of college. When I sit back to think, I always think about my mother’s reaction and feel relieved that it happened, may be a way to appease myself of the guilt of not thinking through that somebody must have noticed me putting the phone in the small pocket and chanced upon it in the crowd while boarding. To compensate for the loss of phone, I gifted my sister with a digital camera after I started earning 4 months down from this incident. From then on, I never kept anything valuable in such obvious places in public while I maneuvered my ways in Delhi’s metro or the local trains of Mumbai, in the buses of Visakhapatnam or in the streets of Paris. I hold my wallet tight and my phone close.
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As I boarded the train along with around 20 other people from that gate, I felt a sudden force pulling me back, but I managed to steer my way inside but with an eerie feeling, I quickly reached out to check the tiny pocket immediately only to find that both the wallet & the borrowed phone were gone. A shiver ran up my spine and I started to feel numb. There was Rs 200 in cash in that wallet which was a month of pocket money, my SBI ATM card and college i-card. Now, having zero cash, no phone I went about near the gate to see if I can find it, I spoke to couple of people but barely anyone knew Hindi, and it struck me real hard that reaching home was my single motto now. Although scared that I would be scolded by parents for being reckless, I had a sinking feeling as to how would I break this news to my sister & my brother-in-law whose smart phone I’d lost, what would I do about all the lost contacts that I’d woven so meticulously while organizing the alumni meet, what of the memories that I’d captured during the Yatra. My brain started to fizzle with all these entrapping thoughts when my friend shook me to bring me back to the dreaded train which was my reality then and I started planning my next course of action. I first called my mother from my friend’s phone to tell her about the loss, she comforted me and then she informed my dad to arrange a vehicle from the station, the trip was booked but it’d sometimes leave passengers if there are more people than capacity or not turn up due to technical glitch in the age old van that was used. My friend got down at Chaibasa and my heart started racing more as people around me in the train knew my situation and vulnerability and I tried to pose a strong and confident front. The train took more than 20 minutes to travel 17 kms but for me it seemed like ages, the sight of Jhinkpani station never made me so relieved. I quickly deboarded the train, holding on to my bag tightly this time and found a friend waiting there in his Maruti 800. He happened to have met my dad while coming to the station for a personal work and my dad asked him to pick me as well. I finally reached home travelling without a phone and a penny in pocket, my mom was so glad to see me safe and sound. I was taken aback a little to see her overtly calm demeanor at the face of such an adversary and having no concern whatsoever for my lost phone or the wallet. She prayed and thanked God for my safe return and narrated about her dream which she saw about me the previous night. She was very disturbed by it, and she’d been praying from dawn that day for my well-being as the dream was a very bad omen for me. She felt relieved that it was only few items that were lost, and I was completely unharmed. Mother’s love manifests in mysterious ways I thought while gobbling on my favorite sambar, rice that afternoon. Meanwhile, my dad deactivated my ATM card and arranged an old makeshift phone for me to be used in the remaining two months of college. When I sit back to think, I always think about my mother’s reaction and feel relieved that it happened, may be a way to appease myself of the guilt of not thinking through that somebody must have noticed me putting the phone in the small pocket and chanced upon it in the crowd while boarding. To compensate for the loss of phone, I gifted my sister with a digital camera after I started earning 4 months down from this incident. From then on, I never kept anything valuable in such obvious places in public while I maneuvered my ways in Delhi’s metro or the local trains of Mumbai, in the buses of Visakhapatnam or in the streets of Paris. I hold my wallet tight and my phone close.