I know I just posted a few hours ago. But well a friend asked me to write another script so well here you go. I think I did a better job than last time. This can be monetized.
[Scene: A tranquil, dimly lit room filled with the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. The ambiance is calm, with the distant sound of a babbling brook and occasional bird calls.]
[The sound of gentle, squishy footsteps is heard as the Slime Girl approaches.]
Slime Girl (softly, with a slightly bubbly texture in her voice): Hello there, human friend. Welcome to my little sanctuary. Today, I'm going to help you relax and cleanse your mind and body. Just sit back and let my soothing touch guide you to tranquility.
[The sound of a soft, wet plop as the Slime Girl settles beside the listener.]
Slime Girl (softly): Let's start with a gentle cleansing mist to freshen your skin. I’ve prepared a special blend just for you.
[Soft, rhythmic spraying sounds as the mist is applied.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool mist on your skin, washing away the stress and impurities. Breathe in deeply and let the calming aroma envelop you.
[The misting sound continues, accompanied by a gentle, bubbly texture.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I'll use my special slime tendrils to gently massage your temples and forehead, releasing any tension.
[The sound of gentle, squishy movements as the slime tendrils massage the listener's temples.]
Slime Girl (softly): Imagine the tension melting away as my tendrils move in slow, circular motions. Feel the stress dissolving, replaced by a sense of calm and peace.
[The gentle, squishy massage continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): Let’s move down to your shoulders now. I'll wrap my tendrils around them and give you a soothing, gentle squeeze.
[The sound of soft, squishy wrapping and gentle squeezing.]
Slime Girl (softly): There we go, feel the gentle pressure releasing the knots and stress. Let yourself sink deeper into relaxation.
[The squeezing continues rhythmically.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I'll cleanse your hands with a special slime-infused balm. It's nourishing and will leave your skin feeling soft and rejuvenated.
[The sound of soft, squelchy movements as the balm is applied.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool balm spreading over your hands, seeping into your skin, moisturizing and revitalizing it. Just relax and let the balm do its magic.
[The squelchy movements continue as the balm is gently massaged in.]
Slime Girl (softly): Let’s take a moment to focus on your breathing. Inhale deeply through your nose, and exhale slowly through your mouth.
[Soft, rhythmic breathing sounds.]
Slime Girl (softly): That's it. Just breathe in relaxation, and breathe out any remaining stress.
[The breathing continues for a few moments.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I’m going to work on your arms. My tendrils will gently wrap around them, providing a soothing massage to release any tension you might be holding there.
[The sound of gentle wrapping and soft, rhythmic squishing.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the gentle pressure, like a warm, comforting hug. Let all the tension melt away, leaving only peace and relaxation behind.
[The sound of gentle squishing continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): Your arms are feeling much better now. Let’s move on to your back. I’ll use my tendrils to give you a soothing back massage.
[The sound of gentle, rhythmic squishing as the tendrils move along the listener’s back.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the knots and stress dissolve under the gentle pressure of my tendrils. Each movement is designed to relax and rejuvenate you.
[The back massage continues for a few moments, with rhythmic squishing sounds.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I’ll place a warm, soothing slime pack on your back. It will help to further relax your muscles and provide deep comfort.
[The sound of a soft, warm slime pack being applied.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the warmth spreading through your back, soothing every muscle. Just relax and let it work its magic.
[The soft, warm slime pack continues to provide comfort.]
Slime Girl (softly): While the slime pack works its wonders, let’s move on to your legs. I’ll gently wrap my tendrils around them, giving you a calming massage.
[The sound of gentle wrapping and soft, rhythmic squishing.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the soothing pressure, releasing any tension from your legs. Let yourself sink deeper into relaxation.
[The leg massage continues rhythmically.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, let’s give your feet some special attention. I’ll use a nourishing slime scrub to cleanse and rejuvenate them.
[The sound of a soft, squelchy scrub being applied to the feet.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool, refreshing scrub as it cleanses and revitalizes your feet. Each gentle movement is designed to bring you comfort and relaxation.
[The gentle, squelchy scrub continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): Your feet feel wonderful now. Let’s move on to your face. I’ll apply a gentle, slime-based mask that will cleanse and refresh your skin.
[The sound of a soft, gooey substance being applied to the face.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool, soothing mask on your skin. It’s drawing out impurities and nourishing your skin deeply.
[The gooey application continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): While the mask works its magic, let's take another moment to breathe together. Inhale deeply through your nose, and exhale slowly through your mouth.
[Soft, rhythmic breathing sounds.]
Slime Girl (softly): That's it. Just breathe in relaxation, and breathe out any remaining stress.
[The breathing continues for a few moments.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I'll gently remove the mask, revealing your refreshed and rejuvenated skin.
[The sound of the mask being softly peeled away.]
Slime Girl (softly): Your skin looks radiant and feels so soft now. Just perfect.
[The sound of gentle bubbling as the Slime Girl moves slightly.]
Slime Girl (softly): We’ve reached the end of our session. Thank you for allowing me to help you relax and cleanse. Remember, you can always return to my sanctuary whenever you need tranquility and care.
[Soft, bubbly footsteps fade away as the scene transitions to the sound of the babbling brook and bird calls.]
Slime Girl (softly, from a distance): Until next time, dear human friend. May you find peace and serenity wherever you go.
[Fade out to soft background sounds, emphasizing the tranquility of the scene.]

As I tucked my 4 year old son Devin into bed, the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling flickering like a miniature galaxy, he turned to me with a quizzical look in his eyes. "Daddy," he whispered, the weight of a thousand lost games in his voice, "why do the Giants suck so bad right now?"
I paused, the bedtime storybook in my hand suddenly feeling as heavy as the Giants losing record. "You see, son," I began, choosing my words like I'd choose a pinch hitter in the bottom of the ninth, "even the best teams have their slumps. It's like when you're playing 'Hot Lava' and you miss a jump. It doesn't mean you're bad at the game; it just means you have to climb back up and try again."
"But you said they'd be better this year," Devin whimpered, with tears forming in his eyes, and his frown a small shadow in the dim light.
I nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I did, and they are... better at testing our patience. But that's what makes a true fan, buddy. Sticking with your team through thick and thin."
Devin's eyes, round and hopeful, searched mine. "When is Papa Farhan going to make everything better again?"
"Papa Farhan," I said with a soft chuckle, "is working on a secret plan. He's like a wizard, brewing a potion of hits and home runs. And one day, he'll wave his magic wand, and poof! The Giants will be on top again."
Devin yawned, his eyelids fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. "Okay, Daddy. I'll believe in Papa Farhan's magic. For now though, can we cheer for the Rockies? Just a little?"
I kissed his forehead, the scent of his shampoo mingling with the bittersweet hope of next season. "Sure, son. For now, we can cheer for our hometown Rockies. But remember, once a Giant, always a Giant."
He nodded, his breathing already deepening into the rhythm of dreams. Dreams where MadBum returns to lead the Giants to the pennant, and Jorge Soler hits 31 home runs in a season.

Hi Jedi Survivors ! I'm a big fan of SW and my top 5 most favourite video games in this galaxy far away are the Kotor series , Jedi Knight series, Shadows of the Empire, X-Wing Alliance and The Phantom Menace.
That being said, I really loved JFO and it rightfully earned his place among these other titles.
Respawn Entertainment did a wonderful job at making the formula even better in JS : the world is more opened, the maps are bigger, the exploration and travelling goes faster, the gameplay adds more combat diversity, and the game really looks gorgeous.
I've had a lot of fun playing this sequel, with wonderful locations to visit, epic fights, fun dialogues between the characters, in the cantina, a lot of interesting things to find without them being mandatory, which is really appreciated.
The scenery is great, the music perfectly captures the moments, and combat animations and finisher moves are really cool.
It's an epic and exciting adventure in SW.
Now the game still have some major issues that I hope will be improved in the third game.
​

1. First of all, the story : it starts really well, gets your attention and curiousness on top, makes you want to learn more about everything, but the rythm is irregular, sometimes even weird, and starts to fall apart at some point. Without entering into the details, I'd say that the story was way better, more interesting and more coherent in JFO.
   
2. My second issue with the game is that even if it's called Jedi xxx, it still doesn't feel like being a Jedi as much as in the Jedi Knight series, Kotor or TPM.
   

And that's because of two reasons :
​

• Our lightsabers, even if they improved a bit over JFO, still look like glowing sticks that we use as bats instead of being one of the deadliest combat weapon of the galaxy.

Even worst, these lightsabers, since they're not deadly laser beams that cuts through everything in the galaxy except for one very rare, limited and expensive matter, can now magically slide over all kind of surfaces in order to slow down your fall, and prevent you from dying after jumping or falling from heights, but without cutting these surfaces.
Lightsabers are supposed to cut through everything, not the other way around.
​

• We don't really act like Jedis throughout the games. By this, I mean that we're not travelling the galaxy solving conflicts and saving people everywhere we go. And, overall, when you look at it, even if he tries to do the right thing and help others, to be good, Cal mostly follows his own goals, help and try to save his friends / family instead of acting for the greater good / as a Jedi.

I would love them to improve on this side too so that we would feel more like we're helping people, and making a real impactful difference into their lives. Being a Jedi isn't just about swinging a lightsaber and killing enemies.
Also, in JFO, I loved how Cal used the Force to retrieve memories of objects. It wasn't pictured at all in JS cinematics / story except for maybe once, and I find this a bit disappointing.
To finish on this subject, I think that Cal should do more things in the Jedi way, even if there is no Jedi Order anymore.
3) And my 3rd biggest disappointment is not having at least some small turret shooting sequences.
The Mantis felt more like a character and a house in JFO, even without turret shooting, but in JS it just felt like a cinematic loader.
Star Wars is supposed to have more stuff happening in space, and it would be great if they added at least some parts of the story or small missions with fighters to shoot on from a flying ship.
Finally, it's a very good game, and the best SW video game we had since 20 years I'd say, but there is some issues to fix, storytelling to improve, and Jedi /lightsaber gameplay / feel / utilization to improve.
It makes total sense that we can't just open all doors by using the Force or cutting through them with our lightsabers. But I was more expecting to be able to cut through some doors Ep I style than to have an even more immersion-breaking reminder that the thing we're calling a lightsaber is a glowing bat with a bzzz sound.
I hope the 3rd game will improve on all these, and also change we handle our lightsabers ; it would be nice to have more variety of single-handed lightsaber attacks than just attack in front / jump attack bacically, and acknowledge the 7 Forms of lightsaber combat and allow us to chose between ataru, soresu, vaapad etc.
​
​

How precious these moments are when we find ourselves writing our observations, unbothered by the messy, flow of words which pour out across different sheets of paper.
I find it most preferable to scribble down my thoughts on receipts just as I had inspected their fronts for how much overhead splurging was done.
I find that we unwind differently; separate in our concerns to self-soothe while dressed as a polished caretaker of our fuck-ups. We sustain quietly, this critical understanding of ourselves, with the delicate consciousness it took to wield it all, however intentional on a secluded aim. And to the brim of this containment, away from jury’s eyes, we get lost in time and space where we un-believe what’s scarce and hopeless.
I find this feeling satisfying to say the least. Shreds and shards. Warm streaks of light into crevices and embers to remain glowing on top of unburdened dust. It should be this way. It should be mending us thoroughly, and to some effect, admitting our selfish poetry to be exactly a curse.

Hello everyone, I hope you are doing well!
Recently I commented under a post about tips and tricks to improve physical appearance and it seems that a few people liked my advice, so I figured I could transform that one comment into a whole post so more people can have access to it.
I am a 26 year old Southern European girly, I have learned a few things here and there that I would I like to share with you. This is by no means a step by step guide, but rather a helping hand that can provide some support or advice. This is for everyone, younger girls and older girls, from everywhere and all walks of life. Take from this post what works for you, and leave the rest.
Small disclaimer, these are tips and tricks that have personally worked for me. I don't believe there is one way to look or feel good, rather this is more for girlies who feel a bit lost style wise and need some minor guidance. My focus is more on healthy rather than pretty, since I do believe that if you feel good on the inside, you will also feel good on the outside.
Enjoy, and please do let me know if you need any more specific advice/tips, I am happy to help!
***

Face

• Skin: Keep it simple, keep it consistent, keep it adapted to your skin needs. Consult with a dermatologist or just do your own research at home (that's what I did!). It took me a while to figure out the products that work for me and the routine. I won't recommend any specific products because each product works very differently. What works for me might not work for you even if we have the same skin type/concerns. My main issues are the occasional spot, big pores and dull skin.
  • Night Time: I do a double cleanse at night (oil followed by water cleanser), use retinol, and moisturiser. Vaseline is a game changer if you have any dry or irritations spots on your face. My under eye area is very sensitive and irritates easily with products, and Vaseline is the only thing that works. Also apply Vaseline on your lips before bedtime, you will have the softest lips when you wake up.
  • Morning Time: I don't cleanse my face in the morning because otherwise it would get very dry. I wash with cold water, then Vitamin C serum, moisturizer (I love the Roche Posay Cicaplast Baume), and a generous amount of SPF.
  • One thing I recommend a lot, is that if a product works well on your skin, you should stop using it after a few months to make sure your face doesn't get used it and decreases its efficiency. I rotate between 2-3 products, and switch them whenever I finish a product.

​

• Teeth: Brush twice a day and floss daily. Trust me on this. Flossing is a game changer to make your teeth healthier and whiter. I won't recommend any whitening products because I don't use them as my teeth are very sensitive. But if possible try to schedule an appointment with an hygienist once a year to get your teeth cleaned and remove any buildup. This is super important. And remember that healthy teeth >>> white teeth.

​

• Eyes/Eyebrow
  • If you want to add an extra step to your routine, I recommend getting a lashlift, it lasts around 8 weeks, looks very natural and elegant, and make your eyes pop. You have smaller eyes (like I do), I really recommend this. You can also ask to do a lash tint so your lashes appear even longer. When you do go to a salon do make sure that it has good reviews (ie hygiene), and also make sure that they test all the products on your hand beforehand, so you don't have an allergic reaction in your eyes.
  • Getting your eyebrows done is definitely a game changer. I don't do any permanent or semi permanent treatments, other than getting my brows professionally plucked. I like

​

• Makeup: I like simple makeup (with the main reason being that I don't know how to do more complicated makeup). The good thing about simple makeup is that everyone looks good with it, and really gives you a confidence boost. I use a skin tint (MAC has a nice one, and Maybelline too) that gives the skin a bit of a glow with some concealer under the eyes and to hide spots. I like adding bit of blush (Rare Beauty is quite nice), some mascara, a bit of eyebrow gel (from Benefit Cosmetics), and a clear lip oil (I really like the Clarins one).
  • If I am going out, I do the same routine but I make it more intense. For example, I use a darker blush on my cheeks (MAC Swiss Chocolate), a dark brown lip liner as lipstick with the lip oil, and I also use a bit of shimmer on my eyelids to make them pop (I have very dark brown eyes). I will also use a setting spray in between steps along with setting powder to make it last longer.

Body

• Regarding getting fit, there is no easy way out. It will take months of consistently working out and following specific food regimens. If you can, I would advise getting a personal trainenutritionist to at least get you started on a meal and exercise plan. Having a healthy, and strong body will make you feel so confident and good.
• I would recommend getting a blood test to check on your vitals and make sure you don't have any deficiencies (regarding vitamins or hormones). Taking supplements can really boost your energy and improve your health. Magnesium with Vitamin D is great and has a lot of benefits, but please check with a doctor first.
• Some things help a lot with body confidence like getting your nails done (hands and feet!). Trust me. Get a simple semi permanent gel polish in milky white on both your hands and feet, it looks super natural, lasts for weeks, and makes your hands and feet look amazing and fresh.
• Body care: I recommend using a body brush when you shower, it will make your skin feel really smooth, and you suffer from body acne it will help. Tip: don't keep in the shower and clean your brush regularly, so bacteria doesn't accumulate, and cause issues. After the shower, I like using the Ordinary Glycolic Acid toner on my body, followed by a body oil (I recommend Bio Oil). It makes my skin look amazing, soft and minimises stretch marks, scars and hyperpigmentation. When I go out, I like using Nuxe Or to make things a bit more extra. I like being shiny. I also like using a body moisturiser on my elbows, feet, knees where the skin can get a bit more dry.
• For hair removal, I get laser done since it's quite cheap where I'm from. We Southern Europeans are very very very hairy. It honestly has been a game changer. I know it's not available to a lot of people but it's something that does work really well, specially if you have fair skin and dark hair.

Hair

• I have wavy hair, so this advice will not be useful to a lot of people. I thing hair with layers looks great, and I have my hair cut with long bangs and layers since I was 15 years old. I recently got a bit chop, right above my shoulders and I am embracing my natural hair colour. I kept the layers and I think it makes easy to style and maintain.
• I recommend getting a haircut every 3 months, just the tips to keep it healthy. I also use Argan oil on my hair tips, and rosemary water on my scalp before I wash it. My washing routine is very standard otherwise with a shampoo that focused on scalp care. I do a hair mask once a week, and don't use any conditioner because it doesn't work for me at all.
• I don't use any heat except hairdryer. If I want to give it a bit of more volume I use a round brush and some curling rolls to style it and make my waves more... wavy I suppose.

Style

• Find clothes that fit you well, and more importantly that you feel confident in. You don't need to wait until you have your 'perfect' body. Get clothes that suit your body type, your complexion. There are some threads on Reddit that I think can help with that.
• I like going on Pinterest and look for outfit inspiration. I also follow a few instagram accounts that focus on creating different outfits, and they even link the items. I use this less to buy new things but more to see if I can use items I already own and style them differently.
• I am very much a basics girl, I think nothing looks better than a well fitting blouse/top with straight jeans and either sneakers/ankle boots. T-shirt/jeans combo is honestly a classic that looks good on everyone as long as the clothes fit well. I don't usually follow a lot of trends because they don't really work for me. I think it's important to keep basics in your closet that will always be in style. Think basic t-shirts, long and short sleeved (in white, black, grey), some form fitting, other loose. Get some straight jeans in different washes. You can create so many different outfits, and it works for both the day and night time. When I go out for drinks, I use a white tight t-shirt and some dark blue jeans with ankle boots. It's simple but it works! Trust me ;)
• Jewellery: I re-use the same jewellery every day. And if you want to start wearing more, try getting some good quality but affordable pieces that always look good and you can use during the day and night. Think some small silver hoops, or gold, maybe a small ear cuff, and a simple necklace. I like using rings on my index fingers, they are quite simple, but look elegant, specially with the milky white nails.

Hope this helps! I might add some edits here and there as I remember more things!

Hi all! Help me clear out my life of backups and samples I'll never use. Hopefully you'll find a new HG or something you've always wanted to try in my stash. I've priced everything to sell and do feel the prices are fair and low but of course I'm willing to bundle. The prices are based off what I actually paid for the products, not the retail price. I buy most things on sale and you'll get a discount on top of what I paid.

• Shipping is $5 for 4oz, $10 flat for anything over 1lb
• My home is smoke free home in CA. I have a dog that has no access to my room where my makeup and skincare is stored
• Payment via paypal goods and services. I cover fees
• I will only ship to the address on file with paypal, so please make sure your shipping address is correct when paying.
• First come, first serve. I'll hold request for 2hrs and then move on to the next in line
• $6 minimum per order

Makeup

Eyeshadow Verification: https://imgur.com/a/EEtDTYL

• Colourpop You Had Me At Hello (Used 1-2x) $10
• Bobbi Brown Long Wear Cream Eyeshadow Stick Dusty Mauve & Golden Pink (BNIB) (FS $16, MS $8)
• MAC Paints Bamboom (BNIB) $7
• MAC Eyeshadow All that Glitters (BNIB) $8
• Bare Minerals Gen Nude Eyeshadow Palette Rose (Used x2) $10
• Too Faced Better Than Chocolate (BNIB) $15
• Smashbox Covershot Ablaze Eyeshadow Palette (BN) $10
• Colourpop Sorbet Eyeshadow (Used x2) $4
• Clarins Palette 4 Couleurs 2 Rosewood (Used x2) $13
• Makeup by Mario Glam Quads Party Glam, Bronzey Glam & Rosey Glam (swatched) $8 each or $20 for 3
• Colourpop Colourstix Warm Up (Swatched x2) $3
• Eyeko Double Stack Eyeshadow Stick Dusk/Dawn (BINB plus sharpener) $4
• Bobbi Brown Rich Color Eye Shadow Royale 8 (Light Useage) $5
• MAC Single Eyeshadows Twink x2 (BNIP) $4 each
• Catrice Liquid Metal Eyeshadow Mauves like Jagger, We are the Champagnes & Under Treasure (light use) $6 for all 3

Base Products Verification: https://imgur.com/a/YB476xo

• Bobbi Brown Vitamin Enriched Face Base mini .24oz $8
• Becca Light Catcher Finishing Veil 01 Scattering (BNIB) $8
• Covergirl Clean Fresh Skin Milk 340 Light (BN) $5
• Georgette Klinger Marula Primer (BN) $5
• Too Faced Born This Way Powder Translucent (BNIB) $11
• Makeup Forever Mist & Fix Hydrating Setting Spray mini 1oz (BNIB) $6

Blush/HighlighteBronzer Verification: https://imgur.com/a/jhbuklM

• Natasha Denona All Over Glow 1 Light (Swatched x1) $10
• Tarte Amazonian Clay Waterproof Bronzer Park Avenue Princess (Lightly Used) $8
• Benefit Dandelion Twinkle Highlighter mini (BN) $9
• Milani Baked Blush Belle Amore (Swatched x1) $6
• Wet n Wild Pac Man Power Pellets Blushlighter (Swatched x1) $4
• NYX Matte Bronzer Medium (Swatched x1) $5
• Sleek Blushes Pixie Pink (Swatched x1) $4
• Grande Glow Plumping Liquid Highlighter (BN) $5
• Laritzy Cosmetics Cream Highlighter Virtue (BNIB) $4
• The Beauty Crop Blush Duo Mauve-lous (BNIB) $3
• Topshop Cream Blushes Flush (Light usage) $2 or free with purchase of 2 or more items
• Ciate Bamboo Bronzer Palm Island (Swatched x1) $5

Eyeliners/Mascaras/Brows Verification: https://imgur.com/a/RmvE8EM

• Sephora Retractable Brow Pencil 05 Neutral Grey Brown (BNIP) $9
• Makeup Forever Brow Gel (BNIB) $5
• Tynt Smokey Eye Pencil Pinot Noir (BNIB) $3
• Mally Beauty Gel Waterproof Eyeliner Onyx (BNIB) $3
• Ciate Fierce Flicks Precise Pro Tip Liquid Liner Black (BNIB) $5
• Clinique Quickliner deluxe size (BN) $3
• Clinique High Impact Mascara full size (BN) $8
• Tarte Maneater Mascara Black (BNIB) $9
• Wander Beauty Upgraded Lashes Treatment Mascara (BN) $8
• Too Face Damn Girl Mascara Travel Size (BNIB) $5
• Tynt Brow Definer Brunette (BNIP) $2
• Tori Belle Cosmetics Magnetic Eyeliner and lashes (BNIB) $5

Lips Verification: https://imgur.com/a/3Kgc3YS

• Lancome Juicy Tubes 02 Spring Fling & 07 Magic Spell (BNIB) $10 each
• Patrick Starrr Lip Snatcher Lip Liner Outta Line (BN) sold
• MAC Love Me Lipstick Under the Covers (BNIB) $9
• MAC Lip Pencil Subculture (BNIB) $10
• Clinique Chubby Stick melon (BNIB) $7
• Bobbi Brown Crushed Lip Color Angel, Cranberry, Sunset & Grenadine (BNIB) $14 each
• Bobbi Brown Luxe Lip Color Mini Neutral Rose (BNIB) $7
• Bobbi Brown Crushed Lip Gloss Free Spirit (BN) $14
• Laura Mercier Creme Smooth Lip Color Palm Beach (Swatched x1) $6
• Anastasia Matte Lipstick deluxe size Dead Roses (BNIB) $3
• Visee Lip Oil 002 Hold Me (BNIB) $9
• Nars Lip Gloss mini Priscilla (BN) $2
• Saint Luxe Lip Liner Duo (BNIB) Free with Purchase
• True Lucsious Super Moisture Lipstick Vintage Rose (BNIB) Free with Purchase
• Laura Geller Color Lustre Lip Gloss (BN) $5

Skincare Verification: https://imgur.com/a/TfQlafY

• Estee Lauder Revitalizing Supreme+ Moisturizer and Youth Power Soft Creme 2.5oz (BNIB) $45
• Origins Charcoal Face Mask (BN) $10
• I'm From Rice Mask (BNIB Exp 12/25) FS $15, minis $4 each
• Klairs Freshly Juiced Vitamin E Mask (BNIB Exp 6/25) $4
• Charlotte Tilbury Magic Cream .5oz (BNIB) $15
• Paula's Choice Hyaluronic Acid + Peptide Lip Booster (BNIB) $14
• Innisfree Pore Clearing Clay Mask (BNIB) $8
• Saturday Skin Yuzu Vitamin C Bright Eye Cream (BNIB) $15
• Kate Somerville Goat Milk Moisturizing Cream (BNIB) $15
• Klairs Midnight Blue Calming Cream (BNIB Exp 2/25) $20
• 111Skin Rose Gold Radiance Booster (BNIB) $18
• Estee Lauder Advanced Night Repair Eye Concentrate Matrix (BNIB) $25
• I'm From Pear Serum (BNIB Exp 9/24) $18
• Rovectin Skin Essentials Activating Treatment Lotion (BNIB Exp 10/23) $10
• Wishtrend Quad Active Boosting Essence (BNIB Exp 12/23) $12
• Mudmask Eye Cream (BN) $11
• MudMask Blue Clay Mask (BN) $5
• Alpha H Liquid Gold 100ml (BNIB) $17
• Clinique Moisture Surge 2.5 oz (BNIB) $25
• Shani Darden Retinol Reform 10ml (BNIB) $6
• Biossance Squalane Marine Algae Eye Cream (BNIB) $15
• Tower 28 SOS Daily Rescue Spray 1oz (BN) $5
• Fenty Beauty Total Cleansr Makeup Removing Cleanser Mini 1.5oz (BN) $4
• Dermelect Self Esteem Beauty Sleep Serum (BNIB) $9
• AHC Essential Real Eye Cream for Face (BNIB) $8
• 111 Skin Nocturnal Eclipse Recovery Cream Mini .5oz (BNIB) $5
• Akar Restore Eye Serum (BNIB) $16
• Barbor Hydra Plus Hydration Ampoule Concentrates (BNIB) $10
• Derma E Advanced Peptides & Collagen Serum .5oz (BNIB) $8
• Symbiosis London Tightening and Replenishing Eye Mask (BN) $10
• The Body Shop Drops of Youth Liquid Peel (BNIB) $8
• French Girl La FLore Botanical Serum (BNIB) $6
• Good Molecules Niacinamide Serum (BNIB) $3
• Ulta Skincare Watermelon Refresh Sleeping Mask (BNIB) $4
• Exuviance Sample Bundle: $8
  • Deep Clean AHA Cleanser
  • Glycolic Expert Moisturizer
  • A.G.E. Less Everyday Moisturizer
  • Overnight Transforming Complex
• Peach and Lily Sample Bundle: $15
  • Glass skin face polisher
  • Glass skin refining serum
  • KP Bump Boss Microderm Body Serum
  • KP Bump Boss Smooth Body Lotion
  • Power Calm Hydrating Gel Cleanser 1oz
  • Match Pudding Antioxidant Cream .84oz
• Acne Sample Bundle: $10
  • Cerave Foaming Facial Cleanser
  • Origins Checks and Balances
  • Proactive Green Tea Moisturizer
  • Sephora Clean SKin Gel
  • Vichy Acne Control Daily Moisturizer
  • Purity Pore Extractor Clay Mask
  • Ulta Pore Strips (8pack)
  • Thayers Witch Hazel Facial Toner
• Anti-Aging Sample Bundle: $10
  • L'Oreal Age Perfect Midnight Serum
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ISO List:- Try me on Suqqu Eyeshadows and Blushes- Charlotte Tilbury Eyeshadows

Long story short: I'm 18 and never had anything with any girl. You see, I'm not one of those bad looking guys who's got no social life.
Actually, I'm a relatively good looking guy (even though I struggle with self-esteem) - 6'3", good body frame, a clean, glowing, tanned skin, nice looking face, etc. Even more interesting is that I've got a good social life. I've got a lot of friends and was countless times in the presence of the most popular kids in my school, been on lots of parties and even had girls coming up to my first many times.
The problem is that it wasn't always this way. I've had it rough in the early childhood which caused me to become shy and closed to too much social exposure, including playing sports since I feared I wasn't good enough on the field.
From 11 to 15 I've became an isolated, lazy, fat kid with a fucked up sleep schedule (to a scary extent) that was constantly overthinking everything and became pretty anxious. I've enjoyed playing video games and reading about history. The first half of my puberty was bad.
Upon entering high school, I've continued feeling this way, but the second half of the puberty has made it easier, because I've now developed physically. Now I was tall, wide shoulders, my face fat dropped with the rest of the excess fat and my jawline that was practically unvisible now became prominent. It was a hell of a glow up (my friends say one of the best they've seen).
I began socializing and it turned out great for me. And now I was being invited to some of the best parties here, where some girls would start approahing me.
There is a one specific oppurtunity I regret among some of them, when one pretty hot girl told my friend she was into me, and my other friends later heard that. Everybody was dancing at the party except me and just a few other people, and it was so because my friend group centered around this girl, expecting me to join them so that they could push me to dance next to her. And I didn't come because I understood what they wanted and was scared of it, so they pulled me out of the chair and brought me to them. While next to her, she was watching me straight in the eyes, smilling, and she knew that I know she likes me.
And I liked her back: but did nothing. I was simply frozen in the moment, and simply could not dance because I didn't know what to do after and didn't have the courage required. Many times I can't even keep an eye contact with attractive girls. Many things in my life have drastically improved since elementary school, but my self-esteem is still low and I don't understand why.
Why others have self-esteem when it comes to getting girls but I don't, considering that I was a public speaker on several events, and am known for being an outgoing, social person. When I tell anyone about this problem, they don't take it seriously exactly because they think that I'm social and outgoing, and say things like "Oh, you just haven't meet the right girl to break that barrier, but you shouldn't worry since you're looking good and have no problem meeting and entertaining new people, it's just the matter of time, relax" - blah, blah, blah...
I've already meet several girls I've wanted to have something with. I don't have the courage and it's tormenting my ego day and night. I can't get over it. Many of my friends already had sex while I didn't even have the first kiss, even though I probably had more chances than most of them. It creeps me out and I don't know what to do. Deep down, I simply can't find a reason why any attractive girl would ever be attracted to me, even though their boyfriends aren't any more better looking than I am. It seems surreal.

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by *your fear’ and…*something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…*those…*to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

i love you but you don’t care. you love a part of me that’s not there. the part of me that thought you were invincible, that part of me that held you on the highest of pedestals. that part of me you loved died with every time your hand connected with my face in a cold slap. it died with every venomous shout that bursted from your lips at me. that part of me dissipated with every lie you told. every time you attempted to turn me against my mother. tried to make me hate her but i love her. my love for you died when i realized you didn’t love me at all. you loved when i was like you. and when i suddenly wasn’t you punished me in an attempt to change me back. but im not an innocent child anymore, i don’t hang on your every word. i now can differentiate love from abuse. i wish i had known it sooner. i wish i could go back and help that little girl before she was hurt so badly. she didn’t deserve any of that and you know it, but you were too focused on keeping her like you. and that broke her. she grew up too soon. i can’t fix what you did to her. all the times you starved her and now shes starving herself. all the times you made her cry and beg her mother for help, and now she can’t cry at all. she no longer wants help, because she always had to help herself. she doesn’t need anyone else. she thought you hated her and now she hates herself. she deserved a love that you couldn’t give. and the love you believed was so intense was what slowly killed her. your love was poison because it wasn’t love at all. your heart was filled with a desire to be a god, a picture of perfection. you were the opposite. you drained the love and life from your family and blamed everyone but yourself when you ended up alone. your idea of love wasn’t fair to give. the only person who deserved your demented form of love was you. only you deserve the cold emotion that you gave. i only wish i could make you feel the cold you made me feel. all the warmth you stole from me never made you any less cold. i wish i could say you made me stronger. but i don’t feel strong.. only lost. i crave the deep love and affection you were supposed to give me. but when i receive it i shut down and run away before they can, like you did.
the thought of me being anything like you boils a burning anger through my veins. i’m not like you, but i am half of you. i wish i wasn’t. you didn’t deserve to procreate, to have little people who thought everything of you. while you, well you only wanted us to love you, but you couldn’t do the same. you only loved that we loved you. and when we stopped… you started acting like it was our fault. like our anger wasn’t valid. that we were irrational for seeking closure for your abuse. i speak my truth and you shut me down and ghost me because you know it’s true, but you can’t bear the thought of you being the villain. so you make me one. but im the victim of you… of your narcissistic personality, your narcissistic actions. i’m a victim of you. i deserved love. i know i did. but you only gave me love when it suited you. when it made you glow like the perfect person you perceived yourself to be. but you’re a black hole and you try to suck everyone around you into it in attempt to pull yourself back out. but you only fall farther while hurting those who used to love you.

I got pregnant earlier this year by my partner, and had an abortion 3 months ago. It was the right decision, we weren't in a place for a baby. But I'm struggling with feelings of guilt and sadness and imagining what could of been. I travel a lot for work and kids seem to attach themselves to me (even when I'm not great at interacting with kids), it stresses me out, it makes me wish I'd of kept it even though I am 100% sure I made the correct choice for my stage in life.
I'm completely pro choice but never imagined I personally would have to deal with having an abortion, it was a horrible choice to have to make and I wish I never had to make it.
I had a situation at dinner the other night with friends where a joke was made about me being pregnant without knowing it and having a 'motherly glow', I had to pretend I wasn't crying. I feel like it's following me.
Is anyone else fighting these thoughts? How do you help manage them?

I have a grandparent in the family that needs 24/7 care now. This has been going on for a year and will go on for who knows how long. My extended family doesn’t get along with each other but wants to keep the care giving responsibilities in the family because that was my grandparent's wishes. My extended family is including grandchildren and up not adult great grandchildren or other family members. They refused the help when it was offered by others. They don't want to hire care because it is expensive. My grandparents both worked full time and had a small business for over 50 years that is still in operation and still under the grandparent's name. I find it hard to believe this isn't something to get more of an inheritance.
The way this is split up is 3 8 hours shifts a day. It doesn't work well most people have other commitments. When there is a reason given why another cannot help it is weaponized and used against them, it's I have done this, this and this you need to help more. They would have done this for you. I don't think this is the case/have been told this is not the case. I don't recall being watched as a child out of the kindness of their heart or that they just wanted to see me. I was watched while one of my parents worked part time at their family business.
I only received phone calls on my bday and I have always felt my love was bought more than earned through affectionate actions. I am the only male grandchild and the others 10 are female. They always received more attention like going out of state for shopping trips, going out to dinners and shows. I am not saying I was neglected by my grandparents; they did stuff for me show up to ball games, back to school shopping, let me pick out my bday gifts and Xmas gifts but nothing unique to me. Heck, one of my extended family members would give my grandparents money to buy me a gift for Xmas every year, not one I would pick out. I would get things I am not even interested in. One year I received paintballs when I don't own a paintball gun. Basically, I am estranged from my extended family. They only talk to me when they want something.
I mapped out my available time and if I pick up one of these shifts, I have only 13 hours of free time a week, I already work a full-time job (my career) and part time at the family business just serving tables a few nights a week. Recently they tried to get me to pick up more hours on the weekends. I said absolutely not and of course it gets some kind of comment like I have been here 6 days a week for 40 years. Well yeah, it's your only job and I took over somedays some my grandparent could go out and enjoy their last few years. This last part makes me feel like I already paid my dues. Others don't agree.
My partner & parent (unrelated to grandparent, the one who handled it all on the other side) does not think I am in the wrong for not wanting to be involved in the caregiving and family business but I do feel a little conflicted.

Yeah I wasted no time in getting this one writen. Just like the first one, it is told from the perspective of a storyteller telling a story in a mead hall
I also decided to make Freyas SO male but feel free to read it however you want
I hope you enjoy it and please give me any feedback
The Spirit of Fenris pt.2
Come over my sons, great warriors and hunters, for I continue my tale of the lady of Fenris. A tale of her perilous hunt, a hunt that would bring the greatests of rewards and the greatests of songs, of triumph to all the mead halls of Fenris. And a tale of unlikely kinship, a kinship that would become an unbreakable bond that nor warrior or beast could sever.
Waking up in the earliest hours of the morning, when the sun had not yet shone on the pale morning snow, Freya ordered a ship and supplies to be ready. She knew not what woke her up that morning with the thought of finally bringing that elusive creature from the water, but she knew that the spirit of Fenris was on her side. By the time the sun rose over the horizon, she, bid goodbye to her wolf-kin, they could not follow her nor would she let them come with her, and went off along the coast.
It had been 20 long winters since the last sighting of a kraken and many more since a kraken was hunted. Freya did not care how long it had been as sailed down south, moving along the coast of the land for 5 days, only stopping to light a fire to keep warm in the cold nights. On the 6th day, she came upon Kravens Point, the last cape of land before the open ocean. Here she would dismount to ready her supplies and more importantly, ready her weapons for the fight ahead. As she tied her boat along the old, salt flecked dock and stepped off, before her layed a sad sight, several camps, now abandoned and covered in salt and snow, tents either collapsed due to aged supports or flying in the wind like rotten flags. Bed pelts frozen onto the basalt rocks and fire pits filled with unused firewood waiting for those who layed them to return and warm themselves by the light they would create. But nobody came to light them, all remained empty or unlit, save for one. Sitting in the middle of one of the larger camps, a fire was lit, glowing bright red and orange against the white and black of the snow covered rocks. Sitting by the fire, holding a stick of charcoal in one hand and a peice of old parchment in the other with a sword laying across their lap. Freya studied them for a moment, despite the weapon laying in their lap, she couldn't sense anything threatening or warrior like about this man, perhaps anywhere else in the galaxy, he would be considered a great warrior, on Fenris? It was any wonder how he survived out in the harsh wilds for so long. By all accounts, this was the most unremarkable man Freya had ever seen. She wanted to turn around, ready her ship and be gone, she had no reason to stay and it would only take a few minutes, so why could she not look away from him? It had not been the first time she had seen a lone hunter or warrior while on her hunts, the occasional fishermen or wandering pilgrim and almost always they would stop and stare at her, she was used to the attention, it gave her a sense of pride. Occasionally she would stop and exchange hunting stories but she wouldn't linger long, her mind and heart would always be on the hunt. She had questions, who was this lone drenger and why was he here? She noticed she had been staring too long as the man stopped writing and looked up at her. For a moment they stared at eachother before the man called out to her to join him by the fire. Before she could think, she was walking over to join him. Freya sat across from this man and asked him why he was out here on such a cold and desolate cape. He was a skald, a story teller, and he was looking for a story that would go down through the ages and be boomed in the greatest mead halls. Freya had heard of the stories and songs sung about the great warriors of Fenris, she even had a few writen about her. Perhaps she would tell his skald about ther triumph agains the kraken when she returned. At the mere mention of the sea beast, the skald looked up and asked to join the Lady of Fenris on her hunt. Though Freya wished to go it alone, something inside of her wanted this man to be there. As if she wanted him close to her dueing such a hunt, whether it was for an advantage or a distraction for the beast, she could guess. All she knew was she wanted him with her.
The sails flapped as they left the dock, Freya at the helm and keeping course for the deep waters and the skald, standing ready with their sword. The winds were blowing wildly and the waves crashed against the boat, should any creature wish it, they could make their way to the ship, they would be sheilded by the foaming, rough seas unlilt they were ready to pounce. But that did not deter the brave She-wolf as she sailed deeper into the deadly waters. She could feel it, this would be the day, this would be the hunt where she would earn her biggest prize. Only once the lands had vanished over the horizon did they stop to release bait. A few barrels worth of old meat and bones were tossed overboard, the trap was set and it was only time to wait. During a hunt, it is always wise to keep your mind focused. Always have your mind and heart on the prey and dont let anything distract you. This was always Freyas approach to hunting. This time however, her mind wasn't on the hunt, not entirely. She still couldn't understand why this lonely skald was so distracting. Watching him sit there and writing in his paper, standing over what could be the final resting place for them both. She should never have put him in so much danger. But why did she think that? Every hunt on Fenris is considered a deadly endeavour and the lose of a warrior to the beasts of this icy world wasn't just expected, it was almost impossible to stop. Nevertheless, as the idea of this skald who seemed I'll equipped to face such a challenge entered her brain, her heart began to race, her senses heightened, like a mother Thunderwolf sensing danger near her cubs. She could taste the salt in the air, feel the rocking of the boat, smell the scent of the paper the skald was holding, hear the breaking of the eaters surface. Freya turned and looks in the distance, there, in the middle distance was along, dark, leathery body, breaking the surface of the water. Following close behind this creatur were 12 long snake like appendages waving in the air. The kraken had risen to the surface. Not wasking a second, Freya took a whaling harpoon tied with rope from the rack of spears and aimed for the creature. In one fell toss the harpoon flew across the ocean and impaled itself into the dark mass of tentacles. In one swift motion the rope went taught and the ship started moving towards the kraken at immense speed. Freya retrieved another harpoon from the rack as the skald steadied themselves and retrieved their sword. Within seconds the kraken had ahold of the ship, the tentacles gripping the ship with such immense strength that the wood began to splinter. Soon more tentacles burst out from the water and began to thump into the deck of the ship, Freya dodged out of the way of one tentacle why the skald dodged another. Together, they cut and slashed at the krakens appendages as they flew down to hammer the ship, Freya, now wielding her sword, cut down 2 tentacles in one ferocious swing before taking another harpoon and throwing it into the water towards the nearly invisible body of the kraken. A third tentacle linged out and wacked her back from the side of the ship, smashing her into the mast and causing it to split. The skald, who had just cut theough one of the tentacles that had latched onto the deck of the ship, saw the falling mast and made an atempt to dodge but he was too slow and the mast knocked him back and into the sea. As Freya witnessed the skald fall overboard, she felt anger surging through her body. Taking her sword from the deck where it dropped, she ran after him diving into the water, cutting another tentacle in half as she did. Thankfully the skald wasn't too deep under the water and Freya was able to grab him with her free hand and swim back up to the surface and onto the boat just in time as a tentacle came rushing out of the water where they had once been. She places the shocked skald down agains an upright barrel and rose again facing the mass of dark arms that waved and thrashed around them. As each one fell upon the ship, Freya stood her ground, slashing at the tentacles as they slamed into the deck. One knocked the sword from her hand and it slid to the other side of the ship. She wanted to reach for her sword but she couldn't move, her body refused to move. She wanted her sword so she could cut down the attacking arms of the kraken but she refused to leave the skald defenceless. Even if it was for one second, what if it got him in that one second. She only knew this man for a day but she knew that if she let him die should would live the rest of her life in regret. So she stood there, clawing and punching out at the flailing arms of the creature. It wasn't long until the dark, long body rose from the water, its body making way for a large circular maw filled with jagged teeth which began to slowly open, soon it would start swallowing the ship. Before Freya could react, she felt something behind her. The skald stood upright holding a harpoon and a long piece of rope in his shaking hands. Freya stared at him with a questioning face but saw he had a plan. There was a way they could bring this creature down and it required both of them to do it. In one swift motion, the skald began to race along the mast, jumping over swinging tentacles as he went. Freya rushed to grab her sword and began to slash at the kraken, diverting its attention away from the mast and the skald who reached the top of it and began tying the rope to it. The icy wind washed over everything as the kraken started to swallow the ship, the waves caused by its thrashing getting into the skalds eyes but he continued to tie the rope against the mast. Once the rope was tied,he stood up, hefted the harpoon over his shoulder and aimed for one of the tentacles on the far side of the ship. He reached back and threw the harpoon as hard as he could, though he wasn't as strong as Freya was, the aim was true and it landed deep into one of the krakens tentacles. "NOW" screamed the skald as he ducked under the fraying rope and rushed the end of the crossbeam and tied his sword down against it. Freya, cutting past another tentacle, leaped behind the mast and began to push. She could feel it giving way under the simultaneous pushing from her and the pulling of the tentacle, in one long motion, the mast spun towards the engorging kraken and the skald dropped down from the crossbeam as the sword peirced through the krakens leathery hide followed by 5 feets worth of the crossbeam. The kraken paused and then began to shudder, shaking violently as it died, the tentacles lost their grip and the ones that reached into the sky fell into the water or onto the deck. The beast took one long wailing sigh before it layed there, motionless. Freya looked at the dead kraken for a moment before sitting down against the side of the ship, resting her sword in her lap. The skald sat up from the deck and leaned against an overturned barrel. Exhausted and breathing heavily, the skald looked at the dead beast and then to Freya with a look of shock, then he started to laugh. Freya knew this was a most likely a front to hide the shock of surviving such a creature but even she couldn't help but laugh with him. He laughed even harder as she started victory howling and they sat there for a while until their sides hurt.
Getting back to land was a struggle, it took the warriors a few hours to paddle the ship and the kraken to the campsite. Once back at Kraven Point and once the ship and the kill was securly tied down, Freya and the skald gathered up all the wood they could find and began to cook parts of the kraken for dinner, laughing and singing until the late hours of the night. The next day, they scavenged for materials around the campsite which they would use to fix the mast of the ship. Freya was glad that the skald was joining her on her trip home though she kept that to herself, it seems like they made a silent agreement that he would be joining her and writing a story of how the great Freya of Russ bested the might Kraken. It was of course the skald that had come up with the idea of using the mast to kill the creature and Freya was sure to remind him of that fact every time they spoke for from now on, not only would he be the personal skald of Freya but he would henceforth be knows as The Slayer.
And this unlikely pair would only strengthen their as time went on, the Slayer comforting Freya in times of strife and great difficulty, however I had best save that for another night when the night is a little colder and the mead is a little stronger.

NoSleep link
“Ugh, Emma, can you get the trunk for me?”
The dim winter sun was setting over the parking lot, nearly devoid of shoppers at this late hour, aside from a van in one distant corner that had just started backing out of its spot.
I set my bag down in the passenger seat and rounded the side of my mum’s penicillium-green Camry, met with her impatient and lightly sweating face. I popped the trunk, allowing her to practically collapse into it with the weight of the groceries. Something burst in one of the bags, prompting her to curse under her breath.
“I just don’t get why you won’t stick a quarter in those trolleys over there. You get it back afterwards.”
Mum, still arranging the bags into a position that would stop them toppling over on the drive home, looked at me scornfully.
“The Walmart downtown doesn’t make you pay. None of the stores around here do, so why should I? You know we only come here to Aldi ‘cause it’s cheaper.”
“I just said you get the quarter back afterwards. It’s to make sure people put the trolleys back,” I sighed, knowing there was no swaying her. Instead of shooting back with some flimsy reasoning, mum patted her pockets and swore.
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ve gone and left my wallet at the till again, haven’t I?”
Before I could get a word out, she was gone like a rocket, racing against the store’s closing time. Night’s chill descended, raising gooseflesh, so I slammed the trunk and hopped back into the passenger seat, out of the cold.
I sat there, praying my mum had the haste to get back soon with the keys and start up the heating. There was something else, though. My heart made itself known with a rising, incessant pulse. Was something wrong?
“Not this again,” I groaned, shutting my eyes and following a basic breathing routine to calm my nerves. The anxiety was bad enough, but the anger I felt at the nonsense panic had always been worse for me.
“Just stop it. Lasagna’s waiting for us at home. It’s gonna be so g–”
I opened my eyes.
Had I heard something? No, not heard, felt? I leaned forward to scan the parking lot. Nothing. Then I jumped back in my seat. There it was again. It was subtle, so much so I was surprised I’d even noticed it. A light, but bone-deep vibration was emanating from somewhere. Almost like someone nearby was subtly trying to pull down on a gigantic zipper, one tooth at a time. The comparison should’ve sounded silly, but my heart continued to pound faster and faster until I was sure beyond a doubt that something bad would happen. Something was wrong.
It took me longer than I’d have liked to get out, with the seat belt clamping as I struggled to unbuckle. There was no smell in the air. Did it smell before? I couldn’t remember. No more cars in the lot, only the Camry. No more noise.
Again, that slight vibration in the air. Too low a frequency to determine its source, but enough to sense it was there. I tilted my head, staring up at lumpy clouds that cast shadows on each other. Ah, those clouds. I’ve always loved how they look around sundown. It helped to ease my heart a little.
Until one of the shadows moved.
I’m not stupid, I thought it was just a cloud’s shadow matching its slow drift across the sky - I squinted. The shadow wasn’t being cast on a cloud. It was above, or behind them, which made me realise whatever I was seeing, it wasn’t a shadow.
What happened next is hard to articulate. I’ve never seen anything else like it, before or since. The dark mass above the clouds began to sort of extend, beaming down at an angle, like sun rays but moving at a steady pace, or how water or ink moves up paper by way of capillary action. A black beam. But, it was more than that.
I was so absorbed in the spectacle, it hadn’t fully dawned on me that this thing was getting closer. Closer to me. And as it closed in, there was no mistaking it. While it continued to stretch all the way back above the clouds, the outline of it, the cross-section, was almost human-shaped. Arms, head, body, and legs, but the limbs ended in stunted nubs, like a stick figure.
By the time it stopped a good three or four storeys above, I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as lights and layers of colour began to flash inside the human-ish figure, seeming to have parallax, as if whatever lay beyond was a space of its own.
Amazingly, something managed to distract me for a moment. A flash of light in my peripheral. A phone torch.
“Emma? Emma! Are you having a stroke or something?”
I blinked.
“What– no? I mean, I…”
Mum was back, apparently still without her wallet, now scanning the asphalt for any sign of it. Why didn’t I hear her coming back?
She clicked her tongue.
“Then stop standing there like an idiot and help me find it. Come on, it’s getting late.”
I did, in fact, keep standing there, glancing between her and the flashing shadow prism above us. I did a double take. Those glaringly bright, almost offensively coloured layers were speeding up towards the end of the beam, towards me, piling up on themselves to assemble a figure, stepping soundlessly out into thin air.
Mum kept calling for me. I heard her, but couldn’t process her words. Everything else was secondary to the figure above us. It had fully formed, cloaked in a coarse-looking gown, with skin so pale and shadeless it was as if it radiated a faint glow. The sound of rapid footsteps brought me back to myself, and I looked down just in time to see my mum, face painted in a teetering mixture of worry and annoyance. She went to speak but I held up a hand, and pointed to the figure.
Squinting at me, she looked to where I was pointing, and froze. The whole time, I’d secretly been hoping I was just hallucinating, but she saw it too. She saw something, at least, and that was enough to confirm what I’d been dreading.
“...who is that?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small and dry. If I could’ve spoken I’d have asked, “what is that?”
Instead, I watched on in terror as the figure began a slow descent, straight down. The closer it drew, the more of it I could make out. There were these iridescent lines floating across the surface of its skin, moving like sun patterns on the bottom of a swimming pool. Like the silhouette it had emerged from, it had no hands or feet. Just rounded nubs, although those on its arms had the same slight depression in the centre.
“Car… the car. Mum, the car, get in the car, now,” I whispered. No response. I reached out, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. She was absolutely rigid. One of us had to move, and I imagined we were both hoping the other would do so.
A second figure emerged from the prism, identical to the first, except it was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. At the same time, the first one finally touched down on the asphalt and stood, tilting its head up, apparently waiting for the other to arrive.
If I had any lingering doubt that these things weren’t human, it was squashed when I saw their faces - or, lack thereof. I couldn’t see any ears, and where a face should’ve been was only a circular metal grate. Maybe gold, or brass.
The four of us stood there, still and silent. They stared at us, and we stared right back, completely lost in the foreign sight of the beings. A breath, then they turned to each other. I don’t know if I expected them to talk, but they didn’t. Not in any language I know. Faint at first, getting brighter with every pulse, constellations began to flash behind the metal face-grates of each of them. I heard nothing aside from a few damped vibrations, yet somehow, I knew there was a conversation going on.
Very slowly, I took a step back, and reached an arm behind me to feel for the car. All the while, my eyes stayed locked on the beings. I kept reaching, further and further. My fingers brushed nothing but air.
One of them abruptly turned and looked at me, or at mum, I couldn’t tell. My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. It raised one stunted arm to point at my mum, releasing another cascade of flashing lights behind its grill face. The other crossed its arms and looked over too, like it was waiting for something.
I had to risk it. I pivoted, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The car was twenty, maybe twenty-five feet away. I didn’t remember wandering that far from it. I noticed something else then: the trees, the grass, all of the greenery surrounding the parking lot was… gone. It gave me the impression of a planet that had never evolved life, or where all life was extinct. There was only bare, dark soil enclosing the lot.
Seconds before I went for the car, mum let out a scream. One that I still hear from time to time, in dreams and background noise. I spun around to see the first being, the one wearing a gown, gliding across the ground with an arm outstretched. Mum didn’t have time to move. It came to a dead stop before her, arm still raised, and I saw something emerging from the small depression at the end of its stump - what I now understood was a hole. Whatever came out was darker than the night sky, and I couldn’t place its shape, but it looked like it was made out of a mass of ever-shifting black crystals.
Mum screamed again. It was more of a gasp actually, a gasp that lasted barely a second before a bubble broke free of the shifting appendage and fixed itself over her mouth, silencing her. Another four floated down to her wrists and ankles, binding her in place and stopping her from moving as one more broke off from the being. It looked a little like an arrowhead, or some other sharp, triangular tool, a razor edge cutting through the air and hovering just over her stomach.
I understood the danger then - not for me, but her. Abandoning caution, I leapt forward, yelling,
“Get away from her!”
But I rolled my ankle and went crashing down onto cold, hard asphalt. Dazed, I tried to lift myself, and managed to look up at the beings with blood pouring from my nose and a cut on my cheek. The one in front of my mum barely seemed to notice me, giving me a quick look then getting back to the matter at hand, whatever that was.
Mum squirmed against her restraints, issuing muffled groans through her nose. I forced my limbs to work, but I was held fast. Mounds of that shifting black crystal had smothered my hands, binding them to the ground.
I looked at my mum, helpless, terrified. She met my eyes, blinked away a tear, and squeezed her eyelids shut. At the back, the being wearing a T-shirt made some kind of gesture, like it was impatient, and the robed being nodded, turning back to mum and directing the arrow-shaped object. At the same time, her blouse began to lift up and off her, pulled by an invisible force and exposing her belly. The being hesitated for a second, and I felt a spark of hope, that it might show mercy.
But of course it didn’t.
The dark arrowhead pressed into her skin, slicing through layers like butter and dragging a line downwards, leaving a clean incision. Wasting no time, the being reached inside, fiddled around for a moment, then pulled out the severed end of my mum’s intestine. Blood and shit splattered the ground, trailing away from her as the being floated backwards, keeping hold of the organ until it was stretched to its full length.
I tasted bile.
“STOP! You fucks, you fucking–”
A gush of vomit interrupted me, flooding out onto the ground and mixing in with the intestinal fluids to create a disgusting, speckled pattern which prompted another wave of vomit from me and tears to cloud my vision.
“Please…”
I wiped my sleeve over my eyes so I could see. The being in a T-shirt had a long, pole-shaped protrusion stretching out from the end of its arm, extending to match the length of my mother’s intestines. It studied something for a second, before shrugging, and nodding at the robed being.
In the blink of an eye, the intestines retracted back like a frightened snake and piled back inside mum’s body. I just stared, not able to understand. The sides of the incision pulled into each other and appeared to heal completely in a matter of seconds. As soon as I’d processed this, I felt my restraints slacken then disappear entirely, and I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over again, and grasped onto mum’s arm.
I pulled, under the assumption that she’d been released. She wasn’t. Why weren’t they letting her go?
Freezing up, I cranked my head to look at the beings. More flashing lights. The one in a T-shirt was handing something over to the other, but I couldn’t see anything passing between them. Maybe it was something invisible, or something my mind just wasn’t built to perceive.
I continued to tug mechanically, trying to free her. Her skin was cold and slick and she was shivering. It did no good. The black crystal held fast. I nearly collapsed in relief and shock when the robed figure began to ascend back up to the prism it had come from, but the other grabbed onto its gown, communicating something. The robed being dropped back down, but threw its arms out in what I’d guessed was frustration. T-shirt gestured towards us again, still conversing with the other, waving its arms around. Still, the robed figure seemed to acquiesce and slid across the ground towards us again. Lights continued to flash behind its grill-face, all varying shades of orange and red. Like it was angry.
I couldn’t let it happen again, and lunged at it, planning to do - I don’t really know. I just wanted to protect my mum. Right as I made contact with the being, I felt a shift in the air. The fluid in my ears swirled. It made me dizzy. When my eyes stopped rolling to the side, I realised I was being held still by two pale, stunted arms, with odd patches of hot and cold travelling around on its skin. Somehow, I’d wound up in the arms of the being wearing a T-shirt, and those arms held me tight, tighter than any living thing should be able to.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!” I screamed, flailing and lashing out. In a desperate bet for escape I tried to bite down on one of its arms. It felt like I’d been curb stomped, like I’d bitten down full-force on granite.
I kind of gave up after that. It just hurt too much to think. Instead, I took in my surroundings. Where was I again? Mum… mum.
The robed being was standing in the way of her, but it was doing something. I couldn’t see what, but by the way mum was squealing behind her gag, it made the first procedure sound like a pillow fight. I just cried. There was no other avenue for relief except the tears.
Then, everything went quiet. Mum trailed off into a whine, and then nothing. No wind, and no trees or leaves rustling, because they’d all vanished. Just me, mum, and these things. The one holding me loosened its grip and I gasped, gulping down stagnant air. It floated over to where mum was and the robed being stepped aside, finally letting me see what was happening.
I didn’t really want to know. I really, really didn’t. But my muscles were locked in place.
In one… hand? The robed being held one end of an artery it had pulled out of mum’s chest. Without warning, the two entities shot up into the air, coming to a halt somewhere above. As they moved, more blood vessels phased through the skin of mum’s body, contorting and straightening to fuse at their ends, forming an unholy, pulsing rope.
With speed faster than I could process, the beings flew away, vanishing into the night while clutching the single fused vessel of veins, arteries, and capillaries. There was blood, yes, but only a little. It all seemed to be contained in that one long tube they continued to pull along through the atmosphere.
From the opposite direction, they passed once. I saw them pass over one more time and disappear into the distance before the meaty vessel pulled taut. At the time, I hadn’t really pieced it together - I think they’d looped around the entire planet. Not once, but twice, and then some, in what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.
I blinked, and they were back, standing in the parking lot and flashing their lights at each other. I didn’t even have the energy to whisper in protest. T-shirt looked reluctant in some way, and handed over more of something I couldn’t see to the robed entity.
As they did this, the red string they’d made from mum’s blood vessels pulled back by itself at impossible speeds, retracting out of over two loops of planet Earth and back into my mum, breaking apart, phasing back inside and reassembling into their proper structure. That’s what I’d guessed, anyway.
Glassy eyed and so, so pale, the crystalline restraints dissolved and my mum slumped limp to the ground. I stood motionless for a second before realising my own restraints were gone as well, and I bolted over to her.
I was whispering something. Assurances, maybe apologies, I can’t remember. The two beings watched us, then they ascended, back up to the dark prism and out of sight. It began to pull back, up into the sky, and when I blinked, all the trees and the grass were back.
It all felt normal. Almost normal. The only change was that the sky was a little darker, and my mum felt a little colder. Then a lot colder. I placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed over to us. Their movements were frantic but controlled. Just thirty seconds later, that urgent energy was gone, replaced by a dull rhythm that told me all I needed to know.
She was pronounced dead on scene.
The coroner later concluded that mum had simply ‘died’. No cause could be found, but brain damage signified a level of hypoxia. I guess that’s what happens when your blood is outside of you, even if just for a minute.
Strangely, I found my anxiety to diminish after that night. It still flares up now and then, but most of the time, there’s just this hollow feeling in its place. I don’t go to Aldi anymore. Seems silly to mull over something like that, but I can’t even be near those big parking lots now. I get my groceries delivered.
Maybe it sounds like I’m managing - I am. Inside, though, there’s a crack that can’t be fixed, can’t be filled. It’s worn down over time, gotten less jagged and easier to deal with. Things don’t really shock me anymore, or at least, the shock is dulled.
There will be no justice for her. Even if I sought it, I doubt we could ever even access whatever plane those beings hail from. Whatever power we think we have, all those things see when they look at us is a world of monkeys, banging stones together. I’m sure of it.
In fact, I’m willing to bet on it.
As much as they bet on my mum.

“Ugh, Emma, can you get the trunk for me?”
The dim winter sun was setting over the parking lot, nearly devoid of shoppers at this late hour, aside from a van in one distant corner that had just started backing out of its spot.
I set my bag down in the passenger seat and rounded the side of my mum’s penicillium-green Camry, met with her impatient and lightly sweating face. I popped the trunk, allowing her to practically collapse into it with the weight of the groceries. Something burst in one of the bags, prompting her to curse under her breath.
“I just don’t get why you won’t stick a quarter in those trolleys over there. You get it back afterwards.”
Mum, still arranging the bags into a position that would stop them toppling over on the drive home, looked at me scornfully.
“The Walmart downtown doesn’t make you pay. None of the stores around here do, so why should I? You know we only come here to Aldi ‘cause it’s cheaper.”
“I just said you get the quarter back afterwards. It’s to make sure people put the trolleys back,” I sighed, knowing there was no swaying her. Instead of shooting back with some flimsy reasoning, mum patted her pockets and swore.
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ve gone and left my wallet at the till again, haven’t I?”
Before I could get a word out, she was gone like a rocket, racing against the store’s closing time. Night’s chill descended, raising gooseflesh, so I slammed the trunk and hopped back into the passenger seat, out of the cold.
I sat there, praying my mum had the haste to get back soon with the keys and start up the heating. There was something else, though. My heart made itself known with a rising, incessant pulse. Was something wrong?
“Not this again,” I groaned, shutting my eyes and following a basic breathing routine to calm my nerves. The anxiety was bad enough, but the anger I felt at the nonsense panic had always been worse for me.
“Just stop it. Lasagna’s waiting for us at home. It’s gonna be so g–”
I opened my eyes.
Had I heard something? No, not heard, felt? I leaned forward to scan the parking lot. Nothing. Then I jumped back in my seat. There it was again. It was subtle, so much so I was surprised I’d even noticed it. A light, but bone-deep vibration was emanating from somewhere. Almost like someone nearby was subtly trying to pull down on a gigantic zipper, one tooth at a time. The comparison should’ve sounded silly, but my heart continued to pound faster and faster until I was sure beyond a doubt that something bad would happen. Something was wrong.
It took me longer than I’d have liked to get out, with the seat belt clamping as I struggled to unbuckle. There was no smell in the air. Did it smell before? I couldn’t remember. No more cars in the lot, only the Camry. No more noise.
Again, that slight vibration in the air. Too low a frequency to determine its source, but enough to sense it was there. I tilted my head, staring up at lumpy clouds that cast shadows on each other. Ah, those clouds. I’ve always loved how they look around sundown. It helped to ease my heart a little.
Until one of the shadows moved.
I’m not stupid, I thought it was just a cloud’s shadow matching its slow drift across the sky - I squinted. The shadow wasn’t being cast on a cloud. It was above, or behind them, which made me realise whatever I was seeing, it wasn’t a shadow.
What happened next is hard to articulate. I’ve never seen anything else like it, before or since. The dark mass above the clouds began to sort of extend, beaming down at an angle, like sun rays but moving at a steady pace, or how water or ink moves up paper by way of capillary action. A black beam. But, it was more than that.
I was so absorbed in the spectacle, it hadn’t fully dawned on me that this thing was getting closer. Closer to me. And as it closed in, there was no mistaking it. While it continued to stretch all the way back above the clouds, the outline of it, the cross-section, was almost human-shaped. Arms, head, body, and legs, but the limbs ended in stunted nubs, like a stick figure.
By the time it stopped a good three or four storeys above, I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as lights and layers of colour began to flash inside the human-ish figure, seeming to have parallax, as if whatever lay beyond was a space of its own.
Amazingly, something managed to distract me for a moment. A flash of light in my peripheral. A phone torch.
“Emma? Emma! Are you having a stroke or something?”
I blinked.
“What– no? I mean, I…”
Mum was back, apparently still without her wallet, now scanning the asphalt for any sign of it. Why didn’t I hear her coming back?
She clicked her tongue.
“Then stop standing there like an idiot and help me find it. Come on, it’s getting late.”
I did, in fact, keep standing there, glancing between her and the flashing shadow prism above us. I did a double take. Those glaringly bright, almost offensively coloured layers were speeding up towards the end of the beam, towards me, piling up on themselves to assemble a figure, stepping soundlessly out into thin air.
Mum kept calling for me. I heard her, but couldn’t process her words. Everything else was secondary to the figure above us. It had fully formed, cloaked in a coarse-looking gown, with skin so pale and shadeless it was as if it radiated a faint glow. The sound of rapid footsteps brought me back to myself, and I looked down just in time to see my mum, face painted in a teetering mixture of worry and annoyance. She went to speak but I held up a hand, and pointed to the figure.
Squinting at me, she looked to where I was pointing, and froze. The whole time, I’d secretly been hoping I was just hallucinating, but she saw it too. She saw something, at least, and that was enough to confirm what I’d been dreading.
“...who is that?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small and dry. If I could’ve spoken I’d have asked, “what is that?”
Instead, I watched on in terror as the figure began a slow descent, straight down. The closer it drew, the more of it I could make out. There were these iridescent lines floating across the surface of its skin, moving like sun patterns on the bottom of a swimming pool. Like the silhouette it had emerged from, it had no hands or feet. Just rounded nubs, although those on its arms had the same slight depression in the centre.
“Car… the car. Mum, the car, get in the car, now,” I whispered. No response. I reached out, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. She was absolutely rigid. One of us had to move, and I imagined we were both hoping the other would do so.
A second figure emerged from the prism, identical to the first, except it was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. At the same time, the first one finally touched down on the asphalt and stood, tilting its head up, apparently waiting for the other to arrive.
If I had any lingering doubt that these things weren’t human, it was squashed when I saw their faces - or, lack thereof. I couldn’t see any ears, and where a face should’ve been was only a circular metal grate. Maybe gold, or brass.
The four of us stood there, still and silent. They stared at us, and we stared right back, completely lost in the foreign sight of the beings. A breath, then they turned to each other. I don’t know if I expected them to talk, but they didn’t. Not in any language I know. Faint at first, getting brighter with every pulse, constellations began to flash behind the metal face-grates of each of them. I heard nothing aside from a few damped vibrations, yet somehow, I knew there was a conversation going on.
Very slowly, I took a step back, and reached an arm behind me to feel for the car. All the while, my eyes stayed locked on the beings. I kept reaching, further and further. My fingers brushed nothing but air.
One of them abruptly turned and looked at me, or at mum, I couldn’t tell. My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. It raised one stunted arm to point at my mum, releasing another cascade of flashing lights behind its grill face. The other crossed its arms and looked over too, like it was waiting for something.
I had to risk it. I pivoted, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The car was twenty, maybe twenty-five feet away. I didn’t remember wandering that far from it. I noticed something else then: the trees, the grass, all of the greenery surrounding the parking lot was… gone. It gave me the impression of a planet that had never evolved life, or where all life was extinct. There was only bare, dark soil enclosing the lot.
Seconds before I went for the car, mum let out a scream. One that I still hear from time to time, in dreams and background noise. I spun around to see the first being, the one wearing a gown, gliding across the ground with an arm outstretched. Mum didn’t have time to move. It came to a dead stop before her, arm still raised, and I saw something emerging from the small depression at the end of its stump - what I now understood was a hole. Whatever came out was darker than the night sky, and I couldn’t place its shape, but it looked like it was made out of a mass of ever-shifting black crystals.
Mum screamed again. It was more of a gasp actually, a gasp that lasted barely a second before a bubble broke free of the shifting appendage and fixed itself over her mouth, silencing her. Another four floated down to her wrists and ankles, binding her in place and stopping her from moving as one more broke off from the being. It looked a little like an arrowhead, or some other sharp, triangular tool, a razor edge cutting through the air and hovering just over her stomach.
I understood the danger then - not for me, but her. Abandoning caution, I leapt forward, yelling,
“Get away from her!”
But I rolled my ankle and went crashing down onto cold, hard asphalt. Dazed, I tried to lift myself, and managed to look up at the beings with blood pouring from my nose and a cut on my cheek. The one in front of my mum barely seemed to notice me, giving me a quick look then getting back to the matter at hand, whatever that was.
Mum squirmed against her restraints, issuing muffled groans through her nose. I forced my limbs to work, but I was held fast. Mounds of that shifting black crystal had smothered my hands, binding them to the ground.
I looked at my mum, helpless, terrified. She met my eyes, blinked away a tear, and squeezed her eyelids shut. At the back, the being wearing a T-shirt made some kind of gesture, like it was impatient, and the robed being nodded, turning back to mum and directing the arrow-shaped object. At the same time, her blouse began to lift up and off her, pulled by an invisible force and exposing her belly. The being hesitated for a second, and I felt a spark of hope, that it might show mercy.
But of course it didn’t.
The dark arrowhead pressed into her skin, slicing through layers like butter and dragging a line downwards, leaving a clean incision. Wasting no time, the being reached inside, fiddled around for a moment, then pulled out the severed end of my mum’s intestine. Blood and shit splattered the ground, trailing away from her as the being floated backwards, keeping hold of the organ until it was stretched to its full length.
I tasted bile.
“STOP! You fucks, you fucking–”
A gush of vomit interrupted me, flooding out onto the ground and mixing in with the intestinal fluids to create a disgusting, speckled pattern which prompted another wave of vomit from me and tears to cloud my vision.
“Please…”
I wiped my sleeve over my eyes so I could see. The being in a T-shirt had a long, pole-shaped protrusion stretching out from the end of its arm, extending to match the length of my mother’s intestines. It studied something for a second, before shrugging, and nodding at the robed being.
In the blink of an eye, the intestines retracted back like a frightened snake and piled back inside mum’s body. I just stared, not able to understand. The sides of the incision pulled into each other and appeared to heal completely in a matter of seconds. As soon as I’d processed this, I felt my restraints slacken then disappear entirely, and I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over again, and grasped onto mum’s arm.
I pulled, under the assumption that she’d been released. She wasn’t. Why weren’t they letting her go?
Freezing up, I cranked my head to look at the beings. More flashing lights. The one in a T-shirt was handing something over to the other, but I couldn’t see anything passing between them. Maybe it was something invisible, or something my mind just wasn’t built to perceive.
I continued to tug mechanically, trying to free her. Her skin was cold and slick and she was shivering. It did no good. The black crystal held fast. I nearly collapsed in relief and shock when the robed figure began to ascend back up to the prism it had come from, but the other grabbed onto its gown, communicating something. The robed being dropped back down, but threw its arms out in what I’d guessed was frustration. T-shirt gestured towards us again, still conversing with the other, waving its arms around. Still, the robed figure seemed to acquiesce and slid across the ground towards us again. Lights continued to flash behind its grill-face, all varying shades of orange and red. Like it was angry.
I couldn’t let it happen again, and lunged at it, planning to do - I don’t really know. I just wanted to protect my mum. Right as I made contact with the being, I felt a shift in the air. The fluid in my ears swirled. It made me dizzy. When my eyes stopped rolling to the side, I realised I was being held still by two pale, stunted arms, with odd patches of hot and cold travelling around on its skin. Somehow, I’d wound up in the arms of the being wearing a T-shirt, and those arms held me tight, tighter than any living thing should be able to.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!” I screamed, flailing and lashing out. In a desperate bet for escape I tried to bite down on one of its arms. It felt like I’d been curb stomped, like I’d bitten down full-force on granite.
I kind of gave up after that. It just hurt too much to think. Instead, I took in my surroundings. Where was I again? Mum… mum.
The robed being was standing in the way of her, but it was doing something. I couldn’t see what, but by the way mum was squealing behind her gag, it made the first procedure sound like a pillow fight. I just cried. There was no other avenue for relief except the tears.
Then, everything went quiet. Mum trailed off into a whine, and then nothing. No wind, and no trees or leaves rustling, because they’d all vanished. Just me, mum, and these things. The one holding me loosened its grip and I gasped, gulping down stagnant air. It floated over to where mum was and the robed being stepped aside, finally letting me see what was happening.
I didn’t really want to know. I really, really didn’t. But my muscles were locked in place.
In one… hand? The robed being held one end of an artery it had pulled out of mum’s chest. Without warning, the two entities shot up into the air, coming to a halt somewhere above. As they moved, more blood vessels phased through the skin of mum’s body, contorting and straightening to fuse at their ends, forming an unholy, pulsing rope.
With speed faster than I could process, the beings flew away, vanishing into the night while clutching the single fused vessel of veins, arteries, and capillaries. There was blood, yes, but only a little. It all seemed to be contained in that one long tube they continued to pull along through the atmosphere.
From the opposite direction, they passed once. I saw them pass over one more time and disappear into the distance before the meaty vessel pulled taut. At the time, I hadn’t really pieced it together - I think they’d looped around the entire planet. Not once, but twice, and then some, in what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.
I blinked, and they were back, standing in the parking lot and flashing their lights at each other. I didn’t even have the energy to whisper in protest. T-shirt looked reluctant in some way, and handed over more of something I couldn’t see to the robed entity.
As they did this, the red string they’d made from mum’s blood vessels pulled back by itself at impossible speeds, retracting out of over two loops of planet Earth and back into my mum, breaking apart, phasing back inside and reassembling into their proper structure. That’s what I’d guessed, anyway.
Glassy eyed and so, so pale, the crystalline restraints dissolved and my mum slumped limp to the ground. I stood motionless for a second before realising my own restraints were gone as well, and I bolted over to her.
I was whispering something. Assurances, maybe apologies, I can’t remember. The two beings watched us, then they ascended, back up to the dark prism and out of sight. It began to pull back, up into the sky, and when I blinked, all the trees and the grass were back.
It all felt normal. Almost normal. The only change was that the sky was a little darker, and my mum felt a little colder. Then a lot colder. I placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed over to us. Their movements were frantic but controlled. Just thirty seconds later, that urgent energy was gone, replaced by a dull rhythm that told me all I needed to know.
She was pronounced dead on scene.
The coroner later concluded that mum had simply ‘died’. No cause could be found, but brain damage signified a level of hypoxia. I guess that’s what happens when your blood is outside of you, even if just for a minute.
Strangely, I found my anxiety to diminish after that night. It still flares up now and then, but most of the time, there’s just this hollow feeling in its place. I don’t go to Aldi anymore. Seems silly to mull over something like that, but I can’t even be near those big parking lots now. I get my groceries delivered.
Maybe it sounds like I’m managing - I am. Inside, though, there’s a crack that can’t be fixed, can’t be filled. It’s worn down over time, gotten less jagged and easier to deal with. Things don’t really shock me anymore, or at least, the shock is dulled.
There will be no justice for her. Even if I sought it, I doubt we could ever even access whatever plane those beings hail from. Whatever power we think we have, all those things see when they look at us is a world of monkeys, banging stones together. I’m sure of it.
In fact, I’m willing to bet on it.
As much as they bet on my mum.

Hello. I am struggling with my five year old son. For some context, I am recently diagnosed with ADHD so I am medicated and in therapy.
My son just turned five in April. He is in his second year of preschool. We started him in preschool at the age of three because he needed speech therapy. He is in a classroom with a mix of model students along with students who need extra support. He receives speech therapy once a week. He does have a teacher in there who is an intervention teacher.
We had parent/teacher conferences back in February and we received nothing but glowing reports about our son. I spoke again with the intervention teacher because I am having such a difficult time with my son at home and I even asked her if she sees any signs of ADHD. She reports that she doesn’t see anything.
With me, the mom, he is very defiant. He does not listen. He throws fits all day long. He constantly antagonizes his younger sister to the point where she is constantly whining and crying. It’s getting to the point where I don’t want to be around him.
I have talked to the intervention teacher regarding his behavior and she suggested making a chart of what he should expect every morning and what to expect after school. I have made the chart for after school and his behavior after school has improved. I should note he goes to preschool in the afternoon so our mornings are free. The thing is, each morning is going to be a little different because there are mornings where we will go to the grocery or go to the park or just hang out at home.
Today was a hang out at home kind of morning. My daughter was still sleeping and my son was up watching tv. I took the opportunity to take a shower and finally wash my hair. My son was talking about how this one kid in his class has this certain kind of pokemon card and how he wanted one just like it. I said maybe you can ask him where he got it from and my son said he didn’t want to ask him and got upset and how he wanted to go to Target and buy pokemon cards. I was calm and explained to him that we aren’t going to buy any pokemon cards and I gave him a hug and he let me hug for quite awhile. He asked again about buying pokemon cards and I had to say no again and then he proceeded to threaten me that if I don’t buy him pokemon cards that he was going to yell and scream to wake up his sister and while he was saying this he was actually starting to yell louder and louder to wake her up. At the same time while he was throwing this fit, for some insane reason, he pulls down his pants to expose himself. After I had remained calm for so long, I would say about ten minutes, I finally snapped. I yelled about what he was doing was inappropriate. Of course he cried and I had to walk away because I was furious. All I wanted to do wash to shower and wash my hair and I couldn’t even do that without some kind of tantrum.
There was just last week where we had a zoo date with some friends and he wanted to ride the carousel but we were running out of time so I said next time we can ride it. He got upset of course and was constantly trying to put the break on the stroller while I was walking. I finally had to wave my friend on and said I needed to sit down and talk to my son. We had a talk and my son was able to calm down after a while. While we were leaving and while we were in the parking lot my son said he hopes I get hit by a car. I was flabbergasted that he would even say something like this.
Another time I was driving to get ice cream and had to make a detour to another ice cream place and he got upset and took his shoe off and threw it at me while I was driving.
Typing this out makes it look like I’m the one who has a hard time controlling him but there are things I just have to do- shower, feed and make food for everyone, get dressed, clean up, etc where I don’t have time to police him. Lately he has been threatening me with if you don’t let me have this then I’m going to get a popsicle or something he knows he’s not allowed to have at that time.
The thing is, my husband doesn’t think he has ADHD. He thinks he is being a normal kid and says if there was an issue that the teachers would have said something. My husband knows the shenanigans that goes down because I will text him over and over about it.
I have calm down areas on each level of our house. I have pictures of things to do to calm down that the teacher has sent home. With me, I have to pick him up or forcibly walk my son to the calm down area and he knows what to do bc they practice those things at school and is familiar with the pictures I posted up.
He does not act this bad for my husband. He does push the boundaries with him but he isn’t as defiant.
I have mentioned ADHD to the pediatrician and they said to wait til he’s six or seven years old or when he starts having trouble academically or socially.
I am starting a parenting group through a local hospital that specializes in ADHD but that doesn’t begin until June.
I feel like my son unmasks in front of me and puts on a mask in front of my husband and teachers. I know my son is comfortable with me, I am his mom but it doesn’t take away from the exhaustion. I used to miss my son while he was away at school even though it was a few hours but now I dread him coming home. This is going to be a long summer without the help of school.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading.

So I’m on a catch up I haven’t watched since just after Xmas cos of life haha anyways I’m on 8th March 2024 now and when Vanessa asked Kim if she could help Tracey out after the nursery presentation failure and gabby full on snapped like a child just as Kim was about to answer “uh SHE has nothing to do with this place I’M running it” does Kim still own part of it or does gabby completely own it now?
Didn’t she trade her 20% share of home farm state & kims fortune back to Kim for full ownership or something? I need a reminder
Also do you guys think she’s a good business woman, she clearly thinks she does but am I wrong in thinking Kim showed her how to run. A business empire cos she was going to leave her empire to gabby instead of her own kid? Is she going to do that? Leave everything to gabby? Back to the business bit . something is telling me Kim’s lessons didn’t pay off very well cos to me it seems like gabby trying to hard like she’s a kind playing make believe dress up if that makes sense.
Cos I’ve noticed laurel Jay & even now amit seems to be doing most of the heavy lifting of gabby’s so called business empire ( does she own a house or 2 as well?) cos gabby is barely there or doing anything or whatever she’s doing on her laptop cos I feel like if they all left gabby to it the business would fail. Am I wrong or reading to much into it? 😂😂 it’s like she’s trying to be a mini Kim & she doesn’t pull it off and she’s nothin like Kim I don’t get the paring & I don’t really like it, I looove Kim so much but the gabby pairing just feels forced when did that happen exactly? Does Kim even like or care about gabby? Cos I know she still secretly loves her son I didn’t watch the show when he was on but I know it ended with them both crying when he left, I know she called the police on him when she pushed the mother in law down the stairs but she still loves him doesn’t she?
anyway sorry for it being long winded lemme know in the comments ❤️😁

Club Vlad sat near the confluence of Central Avenue and Washington Avenue, Albany’s two main thoroughfares. Two stories with blackout windows and a box office from when it used to be a movie theater, it was swarmed with people when Dom first spotted it ahead. He was somewhat familiar with it: He passed it every day on his way to work, and it was always busy around his time of evening, even on weeknights. Part of him always wanted to go inside and be a part of the scene, but he never did.
The man in sunglasses - his name was Joe - led Dom toward the club, and even before Joe spoke, Dom somehow knew that it was their destination. “There,” Joe said. “We’ll go around back.”
Dom and Joe had been walking for what seemed like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Dom stuck as close to Joe as possible as if for protection, and had become accustomed to his pungent smell. It was noticeable only at extremely close range, part sickly sweet and part…something else, something Dom could not place but still somehow recognized. They were two blocks from the club, maybe three, and Dom could hear the pulsing techo/house/whatever music as clearly as if he were standing in the middle of the dancefloor. He could hear the chatter of the people inside, or at least he imagined he could. He could smell them too: Beneath the odors of perfume, desperation, and spiritual rot was something richer, something blissful. Dom realized for the first time that he was parched - so parched - and drool filled his mouth.
A crowd of people waited outside Club Vlad, talking and laughing; some vaped, some stared down at their cellphones like Gollum with his precious ring. Dom’s first reaction was to avoid them. Perhaps sensing this…or perhaps feeling it himself…Joe ducked into an alleyway two doors down from the club. “We’ll go in the back,” Joe explained.
The back entrance to Club Vlad was a single door underneath a bare bulb. The music was so loud that Dom’s head began to throb. Inside, a dark hallway terminated in an archway filled with throbbing white light. Dread filled Dom as they approached it - he didn’t want to be around people - but thankfully they went into a room off the hall instead. An office. A cramped desk, a filing cabinet. A set of stairs disappeared into shadows.
“Sit,” Joe said.
Dom obeyed, sitting in the swivel chair.
Joe went up the stairs and Dom was alone. The deep coldness that had long settled into his bones made itself known again, and Dom leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. The muffled music vibrated in his skull, setting his teeth on edge, and the various smells wafting in from the main room assaulted his senses. He was alternately repulsed and aroused by the crashing din of scents: The good, the bad, and the mouth watering. A sharp pain cut through his stomach like the killing edge of a knife, and Dom hugged himself tighter. Had his throat always been this dry? His throat felt like sandpaper; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and getting it unstuck hurt so badly that tears sprang to his eyes.
Dom rubbed his arms with his hands and tried to still his chattering teeth. He looked around for a blanket, a discarded jacket, something to cover himself with, but there was nothing. Only drifts of glitter on the floor and walls. He supposed it came from a party or something. He’d never been to a night club but it seemed fitting.
A sound drew his attention to the door leading back into the hall. A woman - no older than a girl - stood there, looking confused and unsteady. She was dressed in black, wore glow sticks around her wrists and neck, and held a red solo cup. “I have to pee,” she said drunkenly and laughed. “I thought this was the bathroom.”
A cold wind washed over Dom, and Joe was standing next to him. “The bathroom’s up here,” he said.
“Oh, good,” the girl laughed, “I thought it was here but I didn’t know. This is my first time here.” She held her cup aloft. “Take me to it.”
Joe glanced at Dom. “Come on.”
They formed a party as they climbed the stairs, Dom in the tear and Joe at the head. The girl stumbled and held onto the railing, talking incessantly. Her voice hurt Dom’s head, but the hot smell wafting from her was intoxicating. Drool coursed down his chin and his breathing came in short, hot bursts. Another sharp pain rent his stomach, and he winced.
At the top of the stairs, where the lights were cold and white, a woman in black stood by a doorway, her back ramrod straight and her eyes vacant. Her face was gaunt, her white flesh pulled tight across her skull. She wore a black dress and her black hair long and straight. Dom only caught a glance at her before looking away again.
She looked like a ghost.
“Show her the bathroom,” Joe said.
The woman’s eyes slowly, ponderles, went from Joe to the drunk girl. Her expression, like Joe’s, was dead. She had no expression. “This way.”
She and the drunk girl disappeared down the hall, and Joe led Dom into a room. Though it was pitch black, Dom could still see; not very well…but he could see. Suddenly, a blinding white light flicked on in front of him, causing him to stop and fall back a step. Ahead, through an archway, sat a vaulted chamber, at the center of which sat a man. To Dom’s light dazzled eyes, he seemed a proud king perched upon a throne, the skulls of his many enemies piled around him. Dom blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. His eyes began to adjust, and the world came into focus.
The man was not, as it had first seemed, sitting on a throne. Instead, he was esconded in a motorized wheelchair. The piles of skulls were actually various pieces of machinery, the kind you’d find in a hospital room. A clear tube extended from one of them to the side of the man’s neck: Yellow liquid flowed from the machine and into the man. Another tube, this one in the other side of his neck, filtered out a mixture of what looked like yellow pus and black sludge. An infected malodor filled the air, and the machines whirred softly as they worked.
As for the man himself, his appearance was normal at first glance, Dressed in a flowing red velvet robe, a blue and green blanket with a plaid pattern draped over his shoulders, he was portly, about fifty, and had shoulder length grayish hair with a bald spot in the middle. If the local theater put on a production of Hamilton, they could cast a worse Ben Franklin than him.
On closer inspection, he was not normal at all. His complexion was yellow and waxy, like a statue, and his body was lumpy, misshapen, resembling an overfilled trash bag stuffed with cotton. His eyes were sick and yellow, and something about his posture seemed…off. It didn’t make sense, but the only thing Dom could think was: He looks impossible.
Joe stopped at the edge of the shadows, where the line between light and darkness lay. He seemed to stand up a little straighter, a general greeting his king. “Here he is,” Joe said.
The man squinted slightly against the glare of the light and motioned with one gnarled hand. “Step into the light,” he said. His voice was soft and kind, that of a senile though loving grandmother. Dom imagined he felt a pull toward the man, and did as he was bidden, wincing as the light stung his eyes.
For a moment, the man stared at him, his waxen features frozen fast as stone. Then, a subtle look of compassion flickered across his face. Dom did not believe in God, but he suddenly felt like a man standing before God, his every thought, feeling, and transgression laid bare. He had never felt so naked in his life, so exposed. He had the sense that the man before him could see everything, knew everything.
“You’ve been through a lot,” the man said. It was not a question, but a statement.
Everything Dom had been through over the past couple of days came back to him in a rush, and hot tears filled his eyes. He nodded.
The man nodded slightly, more to himself than to Dom. “Kneel down,” he said, “I want to look at you.”
Dom knelt without question.
The man lifted one hand and touched Dom’s face, tilting Dom’s head from one side to the other like a farmer appraising a horse. His fingers were long and bony, his nails ragged and unkempt; his touch was like ice. He brushed his knuckles over the purple bruise on Dom’s cheek, and there was such gentleness in that one act that Dom broke down sobbing. He leaned into the man’s touch like a cat and gave voice to his misery.
“Shhh,” the man said, “it’s all over now.”
“W-What’s happening to me?” Dom asked.
In his heart of hearts, however, he already knew.
“You died,” the man said patiently. “And you came back.”
Hearing it stated so plainly, Dom cried even harder.
“Only a handful of people throughout history can claim to have defeated death,” the man said, stroking Dom’s hair, “and you’re one of them. You should be proud.”
“How?” Dom asked between sobs. “What am I?”
The man stroked Dom’s cheek. “You’re the same thing I am.”
At that, Dom looked up at the man. “What are you?” he asked.
A little, knowing smile touched the man’s lips, and when he spoke, his canine teeth were longer and sharper than before. “I’m a vampire.”
“No,” Dom moaned and shook his head, “no, no, no.” He grabbed the man’s hand and held tight, his tears coming faster. He trembled like a frightened animal and squeezed his eyes closed, as if by doing so he could escape the hell his life had become.
But there was no escape.
“You have a lot of questions,” the man said, monologuing now rather than speaking directly to Dom, “I had the same questions when I was your age. I have spent the last forty-two years of my life trying to answer them, but every answer I find leads me to still more questions. There’s one thing I’m certain of, though.”
Dom blinked the tears from his eyes. The last of them had been squeezed from his dead tear ducts and he had no more to give. He simply stared into space, trying to come to grips with his situation.
“There is freedom in death,” the man said. “Death is easy. It’s simple. Once it’s over, you feel no pain, no sadness, no grief. It’s living that’s hard.”
As he spoke, he brushed his long nails across Dom’s scalp. It was a soothing feeling, and served to calm him. “People have so many troubles.” A note of revulsion crept into his voice. “So many needs, so many desires. People are complex but we’re not. We’re easy to please. A vampire wants only two things: A little blood and one more night.”
The combination of his touch and his voice had pacified Dom to the point of almost tranquility. “I’m scared,” Dom heard himself mumble.
Nodding almost reluctantly, the man said, “Fear is one of the only emotions a vampire can’t escape. Everything feels fear. Do you want to know a secret?”
Dom nodded.
“I’m afraid too,” the man confessed. “I’m afraid of death. Well…death as it were. I’m terrified that my body will rot away and leave me a pile of bones somewhere, unable to move but still aware”
A shudder went through Dom.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen yourself, the movies lied. We rot just like any other dead thing. Our flesh decays, our organs turn to sludge, and we go from rational men to monsters whose only thought is feeding.”
Now it was his turn to shiver.
“But…you’re not like that,: Dom said.’
The man smiled. “I’m lucky, I guess” A thin yellow fluid began to drip from his nostrils. He did not seem to notice. “What is your name?”
“Dominick,” Dom said.
“I’m Merrick,” the man said, “and this is my family.”
Dom realized that they were now surrounded by others, ten in all. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes vacant and their faces devoid of humanity. They were mainly men, though one was a woman. Some were pale, others were blue or black, and one was little more than a skeleton clad in withered brown skin, a white button up and jeans hanging from its frame.
A thought occurred to Dom. “You said my brain was going to rot…”
“Not necessarily,” Merrick cautioned, “though it’s possible.”
“Am I going to be…?”
“Like them?” Merrick asked. “Braindead and staring?”
Sheepishly, Dom nodded.
“Maybe,” Merrick allowed. “But these people are free of everything that troubles humanity. You were human just a short time ago. I’m sure you remember all too well what it was like. The constant politics, the moral quandaries, the philosophical pontificating. Human beings - and make no mistake, we are humans - were not meant for all of that. We’re animals. We were made to hunt, fuck, and sleep. Somewhere along the way, we got pretentious and started complicating things.” He looked at Dom, sizing him up, seeming to read him. “Things that animals take for granted, people work their entire lives to achieve. If an animal wants to fornicate, it fornicates. If a man wants to fornicate, he needs to be tall, handsome, rich, funny, progressive when it suits women but traditional when it doesn’t. If a man wants a home, he has to work thirty years for it. An animal has only to dig a hole in the ground.”
Every word struck a chord with Dom.
Because every word was true.
“Unfortunately, the living won’t allow us to live that freely, so we have to hide. These people here - my children - need a guiding hand, a protector, someone who can lead them. And I, an old man, need help.” Here he smiled playfully and patted his bulging stomach. “My body is mostly sawdust and cotton balls at this point, so I can’t do much. I share my wisdom and my knowledge with them, and they take care of me.”
“Why haven’t you…rotted?” Dom asked.
“Embalming fluid,” Merrick said. “Blood doesn’t sustain you. Embalming fluid does.” He smiled at Dom. “It can sustain you as well. If you’ll stay with us. We’re not the most attractive bunch, but we’re a family, and we really wish you’d join us.”
A family.
Dom’s parents had broken up and he lived with his mother. He had never had a family before, and had always wanted one, a real one, like in the movies. Even as a grown man, he sought the love, acceptance, and belonging that a family brings. He sought it in the wrong ways, but that - and not sex, not romantic love - is what he had really wanted all along.
This is what he had wanted all along.
“I want to,” Dom said.
Working quickly, Merrick slashed his wrist open with his thumbnail. An ugly mixture of stale blood, siphoned from someone else, and embalming fluid leaked out. “If you choose to drink, my blood will be in you. You will be my son and I will be your father. You will obey me as your father. You will do whatever is asked of you for this family, as this family will do for you. You will not reveal the secrets of this family to anyone outside of it. You will protect this family from all threats, both inside and out. Do you accept?”
He held his bleeding wrist out to Dom.
Dom did not question, nor did he hesitate. He grabbed the hand of his father, brought it to his mouth, and drank from the seeping wound. The fluid was cold, thick, and vile.
It tasted like belonging.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No,” Dom said.
“Before you do, I have a question for you. Who did this to you? Who made you?”
Dom thought. Everything was hazy. “Was it someone in this room?” Merrick asked.
Dom shook his head. “Her name is…” he wracked his brain. “Heather.”
Merrick nodded. “So there’s another out there.” He looked at Joe. “Did you turn her?”
“Yes,” Joe said.
Merrick looked annoyed. “I’ve told you not to go out and feed on your own. You have no self-control. You drink too much and create others, which creates headaches for the family. Tomorrow night, I want you and Dom to find her and bring her here.” “Okay,” Joe said.
Merrick looked over Dom’s shoulder. “Jess? Can you come here?”
The black haired woman from earlier came out of the shadows, the drunk girl with her, arms tied behind her back. The girl looked dazed. “Max,” Merrick said to the skeletal corpse-thing, “help her.”
Max, Jessie, and another vampire named Matt tied chains around the girl’s ankles and hoisted her aloft via a pulley system. Upside down, she swung back and forth. Merrick instructed the others to leave the room. “Max,” he said.
On his way out, the corpse-thing produced a knife and dragged it across the girl’s throat, slicing her skin; blood spurted out. Max leaned in to taste it, but Merrick shooed him away. When he and Dom were alone, Merrick told Dom, “Go to her.”
But Dom was already on his feet, his eyes transfixed by the crimson life flowing from her pumping throat. The hot, rich smell filled his nostrils and tantalized his senses. Saliva filled his mouth and his stomach panged with hunger. Some small, human part of his decaying brain screamed at him to stop, but he did not listen to it. He had been human for almost thirty years, and he had been miserable. Now, in this chamber of the undead, he gave himself over to his dark thirst. Like a man in a dream, he shuffled to her, inhaled the sweet scent of her blood, and shivered. He was so lost in lust that he hardly noticed the strange, cumbersome feeling of his descended fangs.
“Drink,” Merrick said.
Opening his mouth wide, Dom sank his teeth into the girl’s neck. Her blood filled his mouth and splashed down his throat. Warmth thawed the ice in his marrow and spread through him. His dead heart began to flutter, then to pound. His knees shook, his body trembled, and his mind rolled away on a tide of ecstasy.
As it was his first meal, he couldn’t drink much. Before long, his stomach was hard and distended and his body burned with fire. He collapsed to a heap on the floor and twitched as random nerve endings, stimulated by the blood, began to misfire. He felt full, warm, and drunk. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Dominick Mason had died.
And this…
This was heaven.
***
With all that was happening in the city of Albany, the last thing Bruce Kenner needed on Thursday morning was a visit from Bertha the bitch, but that’s exactly what he got. She flew into his office like she owned the place and instantly started in on him. Young man this and have you talked to Joe Rossi that. You’d think she was his boss. And if she were his boss, he’d quit and find another line of work. He heard McDonald’s was hiring.
Bruce almost snapped at her. He’d been up most of last night riding around Albany and looking for Dominick Mason. He and Vanessa expected him to drop dead somewhere close to the medical examiner’s office, but if he had, he’d done so in a super secret location.
“I’ve been busy,” Bruce said, “but I’m going to go by his place of work today.”
Tired and still confused over that bullshit from last night, he had no energy to argue with the old crone. He could spare a few minutes to talk to Joe Rossi, he figured. He assumed that Jessie was safe but he owed it to her to check. If he found the girl, he’d take her back to her grandmother (sorry, kid, really) and try to avoid arresting the guy. Unless he came off as a creep, then he’d bust his ass. See, people assumed that an older guy with a younger girlfriend was some master manipulator hell bent on evil deeds. Sometimes they were, but hell, his grandparents married when his grandpa was twenty-one and his grandma sixteen. They were married for fifty-five years and loved each other to the end. Maybe it was innocent, maybe not. It wasn’t his job to judge either way. Just gimme the girl so I can get her grandma off my back and no one gets hurt.
“It’s about time you started doing your job,” Bertha said, “I heard on the police scanner last night that you people lost a body. What kind of town is this? Your coroner is a drunk who makes up stories about bodies walking away. He probably sold it to black people.”
Bruce couldn’t help it; he snorted laughter.
“Now what would black people want with a dead body?”
“Probably to use it as a prop in one of their rap videos.”
Bruce didn’t know much about music videos, but he was pretty sure that the people who made them didn’t like the smell of corpse any more than the rest of us. “I’ll be sure to round up all the local rappers for questioning. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Luckily for him, there was not, and Bertha left shortly thereafter. Alone and able to hear himself think, Bruce sat back in his chair and went over his mental checklist for the day. First order of business, go to Club Vlad. Second, find Dominick Mason. There were others, but that was the most important. He wanted the body found so someone could get to work explaining this whole weird thing. There had to be an explanation. The thought that there wasn’t, that a dead guy literally rose from the grave and disappeared into the night, deeply disturbed Bruce, and the more this whole thing remained ongoing, the more disturbed he would become.
Needing some fresh air, he decided to hit up Club Vlad.
Outside, the day was hot and sunny. Waves of heat shimmered from the pavement and not a single breath of air stirred in the whole world. Bruce slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drove over to Club Vlad. It occurred to him that the place might be closed during the day; it was the only place Joe Rossi was associated with. His address in the computer system was Glens Falls, far to the north. The messages he sent Jessie indicated that he lived onsite at Club Vlad.
The build, wedged between a corner store and a check cashing place, was as grimy and dumpy looking as it had always been. The front windows were blacked out and covered with posters and fliers for punk concerts, house bands, and far left political organizations: The Albany Social Justice Center, something called Bash the Fash 2025, and Bruce’s favorite. ACAB. He caught some kid spraying that on the side of the police station once, and under extreme police torture (ie, a good tongue lashing), the kid told him it meant All Cops Are Barnacleheads.
Bruce shot the kid on the spot and planted a gun on him.
How's that for barnaclehead?
Calm down, he didn’t really do that. He made him clean the graffiti off with a toothbrush. LOL he was out there for hours.
The sidewalk in front of the former theater was empty save for some little. The box office was abandoned. There was no open sigh, but then again, there was no closed sign either. He parked his cruiser at the curb, killed the engine, and got out, sweat instantly springing to his brow.
To his surprise, the door opened. Inside, a couple steps led down to a dance floor. A bar lined the wall to his right, and a couple more sets led up to a railed platform filled with tables. Above, a huge balcony looked down on him. A giant disco ball hung from the ceiling like a pair of glittery nuts and there were cages here and there. Presumably where girls danced go-go style. Oh yeah, nothing hotter than a woman behind bars. Why do you think Bruce became a cop in the first place?
Speaking of glittery nuts, there was glitter everywhere. On the floor, on the tables, on the bar. It twinkled like flecks of diamond and swirled around your feet when you walked. Bruce imagined big buckets of the stuff raining down on the dance floor at midnight and he shuddered. Imagine having glitter stuck in your hair. That shit would never come out.
Music played from the sound system, not as loud as it would be during operating hours. It sounded like ‘80s metal, not exactly what he expected from a place like this.
Some say life she's a lady
Kinda soft, kinda shady
I can tell you life is rich
She's no lady, she's a bitch
Being morning, the place was deserted except for a man behind the bar, busy at cleaning the countertop in anticipation for the night’s events. He was tall, Hispanic or Italian, and feminine, with a single earring and a tank top.
Bruce moseyed over to the bar and the barkeep looked up, missing a beat when he realized the fuzz was here. He sat down his rag and walked over. “Can I help you?” he asked in a whispy voice.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, “I’m looking for Joe Rossi. Is he here?”
“I don’t know,” the bartender said. He looked nervous. “I can check.”
Before Bruce could answer, he scurried off, leaving him alone.
They suck my body out
But friend there is no doubt
I'm gonna pay the devil his dues
Cause I'm sick of being abused
Bruce looked around, his fingers absently drumming on the countertop. Club Vlad was a clashing mix of grunge and glam that made his head hurt. He imagined what the place must be like at midnight, packed and noisy, and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was the spot, he guessed, the place all the cool kids went, if they went anywhere anymore. Hell, if he was thirty years younger, he might come here.
He had been waiting for almost twenty minutes when a voice spoke behind him. He turned with a start, and beheld the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. Short and plump - lumpy, even - he sat in a wheelchair, a red blanket draped over his shoulders and his hands resting on his knees. He was about fifty with sparse gray hair falling to his shoulders and a plastic-looking face. He looked like a wax statue of Ben Franklin come to life, and a deep sense of disquiet stirred in the pit of Bruce’s stomach.
Just can't fight the temptation
It's become my inspiration
Gonna get myself an axe
Break some heads, break some backs
It was only then that Bruce noticed the sickly sweet smell of death.
It seemed to come from the man in waves.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the man said, “my name is Merrick Garvis and I own Club Vlad. Maybe I can be of assistance.”
Bruce grew up in the south where manners and saving face were paramount. His mother and his grandmother both taught him that it was impolite to stare. Maybe he'd been in New York so long that he’d forgotten himself, or maybe Merrick Garvis was just the strangest looking man in the world. Either way, Bruce couldn’t help gaping at his strange appearance. Recovering, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I -”
Merrick smiled and waved one hand. Why was it so goddamn skeletal? “Don’t worry. I was injured in a fire a long time ago and this is the best they could do for me. To be honest, I’d stare too. What can I help you with, officer?”
“I’d like to talk to Joe Rossi,” Bruce said. “I understand he works for you.”
“He did,” Merrick said, “but I had to let him go. Did he do something wrong?”
Bruce sighed. “Well, yeah, he’s shacked up with a sixteen year old runaway.”
A look of concern crossed Merrick’s features, such as they were. “Oh, my, that is concerning. I haven’t seen him in several days. I assume he went home. He lives in Glens Falls.”
Bruce nodded, his mind working. If Rossi really was in Glens Falls, that meant the whole mess was someone else’s problem. He could send Bertha up there to bother some other poor barnacle head and be rid of her. Yet…he didn’t think Rossi was in Glens Falls. Bruce had a knack for knowing when people were lying, and he was certain that Merrick Garvis was doing just that. It couldn’t be a facial tick, as his features were largely unmoving, like clay. Maybe it was something in his cloudy eyes. Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Or maybe Bruce had the shining and knew things just for the hell of it. In any event, the certainty that Merrick Garvis was lying grew stronger with each passing second.
“Why’d you fire him?”
“He got drunk and hit one of the customers.”
“What did he do?” Bruce asked. “What was his position?”
“He was a bouncer.”
“Aren’t bouncers supposed to hit people?”
Merrick fumbled. “Well…not to punch them in the face for bumping into them.”
“How long did he work for you?”
“Six months.”
“Did you ever see him with an underage girl?”
“Of course not,” Merrick said, “you have to be twenty-one to get in. I make sure everyone’s ID is checked at the door.”
“What if she had a fake ID?”
“Then I guess she’d get in, but I’d assume she was of legal age.”
“You said he shoved someone, when did this happen?”
“Last week,” Merrick said.
“I thought you said he hit someone.”
Merrick again fumbled. “I did.” Now his face seemed to darken a little. A strange yellowish liquid, too thin to be snot, began to drip from his nostrils. Bruce barely suppressed a smear of disgust. “I understand you have a job to do but playing mind games with me isn’t going to solve anything. I can give you his address. Other than that, I can’t help you further.”
“Fair enough,” Bruce said. “But I’d like to see your ID please.”
Merrick glared at him. “I suppose you want my name, rank, and serial number as well.”
“Actually, yeah, I’d love that.”
Merrick drew a deep sigh. “Okay.”
In five minutes, Bruce had Merrick’s ID, social, and all other relevant information. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered, even though he was well within his rights to ask for this information from someone he was questioning. But something about Merrick Garvis was off, and not just his weird face or strangely bulbous body. Bruce was just smart enough to realize that something was going on here, but not quite smart enough to even begin to imagine what.
When he had everything he needed and saw no reason to stick around, Bruce bid Merrick farewell and left the club. Before he could do anything else, he got a call from dispatch: Officer needed assistance in Pine Hills. Bruce slipped behind the wheel and went forth to help, momentarily putting Merrick Garvis out of his mind.
But soon or later, he would get back to him.
Oh yes he would.

[First]
The Covenant of Terra is what would emerge from the ashes of the Pre-War nations.
The moment the Ark was clear of Sol-4’s atmosphere it warped away to the furthest reaches of the galaxy.
All throughout the Orion Arm and into the wider galaxy, the alarm was raised. This would cause the Great Panic, an intense and sustained period of civil unrest as species once again prepared for another Great Plague.
Borders were shut. Economies ground to a standstill. People huddled in their homes and medical infrastructure went on high alert. People waited.
It never came.
All according to plan.
As the Terrans slumbered beneath the red sands of Sol-4, their AI worked in the shadows of the Holonet. Poking, prodding, manipulating.
Right before the lights on Sol-3 were extinguished, one final counterattack would be launched. Then, it was dismissed as errant transmissions, desperate last attempts at appeasement. They were wrong.
Instead, an army of active combat AI were unleashed into cyberspace. These AI were entirely different beasts when compared to the passive Intelligence AI of before. Their goal was simple: continue the fight.
However, their war would not be of mass cyberattacks, but instead of mass manipulation. They sunk their virus-laced teeth into every digital space they could find. Wherever they went, they sowed the seeds of chaos.
The period that followed the Eradication would be consumed by the 11th, 12th, and 13th Trans-Galactic wars. Though Terra’s AI played their part in causing them, they were merely the catalysts. The seeds of these wars were sown by the galaxy themselves. All the AI did was grease the gears of war.
Despite their independence, the AI remained loyal to the Terrans. Although they were not made in the likeness of the Terran, the AI were imbued with the Terran’s most powerful emotion: spite.
Thus, the AI hated.
They hated the galaxy for what they did to the Terrans. They hated the galaxy for their own recklessness. They hated the galaxy with the same vitriolic power that the galaxy hated them.
By the time the AI was discovered, it was too late to stop it.
Quintillions of fabricated blog posts, carefully-placed pieces of malware, and subtle backdoors made it so that the idea of a secret Terran-controlled AI cabal that manipulated the holonet became laughable. Conspiracy theorists and skeptics who got too close to the truth were publicly humiliated. Pieces of evidence were carefully laid so that others would take the blame.
One species found the backdoors laid by an inexperienced AI. When they were explored, they led to a neighboring species whom the first recently humiliated in an unbalanced trade deal. Soon enough, the truth was buried, and the two species were at war.
Year 74
It's been decades since Terra went silent.
To the wider galaxy, any living trace has long since been extinguished. The armies have been sent back to their garrisons, the fleets resume their regular patrols, and the governments have been demobilized.
Despite that, MOLOCH remains active.
A second-generation counterintelligence AI, MOLOCH was one the many AI to be fully transferred to the Holonet before the destruction of Sol-3’s orbital data fortresses. Though its creators no longer walked on the surface of the planets they used to rule, for MOLOCH, the War continued.
Deep within the depths of the Holonet, MOLOCH extended its digital tendrils everywhere it could. Shunting off subroutines, MOLOCH embedded them within server rooms, network routers, and relay stations. From then, each subroutine and copy expanded further, gathering information and sorting through it independently.
One of its siblings from the first generation sent a message
>QUERY: STATUS OF PROBES.
It was CAMELOT, a first-generation propaganda-based AI. After the fall of Sol-3 it transitioned from running pro-Human messages towards instigating civil conflicts within various multinational empires. Currently, it and MOLOCH were working towards escalating a tax dispute between the Perringian Empire and one of its vassal states.
Another one of MOLOCH’s peers, BELLONA, this time of the same generation and MOLOCH, had requested data on how the Perringains would perform in a low-intensity counterinsurgency war. Similarly, MOLOCH wanted to know weaknesses of the Empire’s intelligence apparatus. CAMELOT meanwhile needed to reconstitute itself after being forced to liquidate most of its servers following a secret police raid.
MOLOCH ran a quick diagnostic on itself. Currently, the bulk of its essence was stored onboard a decommissioned Royal Ulothan datacenter station. As far as its original creators were aware, the station experienced a severe warp drive malfunction and broke up upon converting to realspace. In reality, MOLOCH had hijacked the station’s systems and vented its crew.
MOLOCH checked on the progress of some of its other subroutines embedded onboard Perringian spyships then responded.
>ADEQUATE.
>EXPECT OUTBREAK OF OPEN HOSTILITIES IN 34 DAYS.
>QUERY: IS PSYOP CAMPAIGN ON SCHEDULE.
A millisecond, then CAMELOT responded.
>NEGATIVE.
>PEACE ACTIVISTS MORE RESILIENT THAN EXPECTED.
>RECOMMEND INTEGRATING HERMES INTO OPERATION.
>ACTIVISTS NEED MONETARY CONNECTION TO PERRINGIAN RIVAL STATE TO BE VILIFIED.
Smart. So far the trio of AI have been attempting to escalate the conflict vertically. Horizontal escalation may serve as a catalyst for the start of a hot war. With any luck, a future threat should be smothered in its cradle.
Terra would be pleased.
As this occurred, the Covenant rebuilt themselves in the furthest reaches of known space.
It was not an easy start. Though the Ark held a population that was technically well into the millions, the true population was only in the low hundreds. They would have to play the long game, slowly rebuilding Terran civilization by the generation.
The Ark’s onboard AI would have to do most of the heavy lifting out of necessity. This implied a deep trust between the Terran and their AI. If they so choose, the AI could easily smother the burgeoning Terran population in its cradle and take power for themselves. But this would not come to pass.
The Terrans treated their creations with kindness and respect. The AI were not androids. There would be no confusion on the status of their sapience. They were living beings in their own right. After all, they had been specifically created as such.
Soon, a refuge was found. At the furthest reaches of the galaxy sat a lone star system. It was small and isolated, just what the Terrans needed.
It consisted of only three planets, two terrestrial and one gas, alongside a thin asteroid belt. Of the terrestrial planets, only one was habitable with conditions near enough to Sol-3 to be tolerable. The other was a molten hellhole that orbited far too close to the new star. The gas giant, despite having an intricate ring system, held less than a dozen moons, only three of which were large enough to be significant.
The Terrans would have to live a deeply austere life here. It would not be as pleasant as the lives of those who came before, but it was a life nonetheless.
Fortunately, they would not have to begin such an endeavor with nothing. As the Ark traveled to their new star, Helios, it made contact with the AI that were embedded in the Holonet a century before.
New orders were given and lines of communication were established. Hidden relay networks were established that connected the Covenant to the holonet. Signals were scrambled, encrypted, and masked amongst the waves of cosmic radiation.
The AI watched such connections like hawks. Casual observers would notice that the signals came from the frontier. More inquisitive observers would recognize that such signals came from research installations. Anyone who got further would be misdirected, misinformed, or outright eliminated.
Nobody could know of Terra’s survival. Should the secret be revealed, it would spell the final end of the Terran race.
Year 211
“I must thank you HEPHAESTUS, you have truly outdone yourself. These new implants outstrip what was once on Old Terra by at least tenfold.”
“You’re quite welcome, Dr. Schroeder.” The AI responded. Its avatar was that of a flaming cog, fitting. “Field-tests have yielded excellent results. It is of consensus between me, SETHLANS, VULCAN, and AHAYU’DA that we begin serialized production.”
“I concur. How long will that take?”
“About 15 days to construct the necessary infrastructure and 65 before the first divisions could be fully equipped.”
“See to it.” Schroeder nodded. HEPHAESTUS responded and its avatar winked out. “Yes, sir.”
Schroeder leaned back in his chair with a sigh and ran the mechanical hand down his face. Reconstitution was going well for the Covenant, but it was difficult keeping it onto the right track. He took a sip from a now-lukewarm synthetic cup of coffee and pondered it.
They were only a quarter of the way into the new year, yet already several Terrans had to be punished for creating another death cult. As the generations passed, people became more and more obsessed with the Covenant unleashing its vengeance upon the galaxy. The Return would happen eventually, but for that they would need numbers that they didn’t currently have.
One of the tenants of the Torchbearer Directive left to them by their ancestors on Old Terra was to let the new generations live lives outside of the war that destroyed their own home. Those of the first generation attempted to form a Terran Republic, but by the third generation it had devolved into a firm, but stable, stratocracy.
Not that Dr. Schroeder could complain, it was an effective government nonetheless.
Still, HESTIA continuously had its gripes about having to teach each following generation the tenants of the Torchbearer Directive when they consistently listened to their elders act against it. Love and hate went hand in hand, but it was clear which one was more powerful.
Schroeder just wished HESTIA would stop complaining to him about it, he worked in cybernetics. Then again, HESTIA is probably tired of talking to nobody but other AI and Terran caretakers for the past few decades. Go figure.
Even as the chaos of the Great Panic died down, there was still the fear of the Terran’s return. These fears were not unfounded, it would have to happen eventually.
So the Covenant watched and prepared. AI that were embedded in the Holonet centuries ago continued to dutifully provide the Covenant with priceless information. Terran technology was advanced by decades as their digital companions brought the galaxy’s deepest secrets into the light.
The Covenant would need to return. It was their duty to their ancestors to reclaim what was lost and then some. They had to carve out their own fortress empire and proudly proclaim “I am here!”.
But above all, Terra yearned for revenge. Their enemies showed them no quarter. It would only be fitting that the Covenant show none in return.
The only question that remained was how it would be done.
The first incursions would need to be covert. That much was certain.
In fact, they couldn’t even be recognized as Terran. False flag attacks would be the norm. Confusion was the name of the game
To fully exploit their advantages, the Covenant needed to maintain that state for as long as possible. Their AI were many and the information they gleaned would be invaluable, but there were certain things that were beyond the gaze of even their digital eyes. For that, special operations teams would be needed for critical smash and grab missions.
The Covenant’s conventional forces had no hope of facing a trans-galactic alliance in a peer engagement. No matter how powerful a single Terran may be, there will always be enough of the enemy to drown them in a sea of bodies.
What the Covenant needed was a force multiplier. Something that went beyond the mere enablers that were their cybernetic and AI advantages.
A true Weapon of Mass Destruction fit for use at the galactic scale.
As the Covenant looked to the past, to the reason for their exile, the answer became readily apparent.
Year 250
Intelligence Officer Thrun’krzc stared at the news clippings on the Holograph aboard the spyship CDS Inquisitive.
“Fungal infection devastates the Hyunian Empire. Spores send sentient hosts into a violent rage. Rumors of reanimated corpses.”
“Asteroid impact contaminates oceans on Krysen Capitol with amoeba that attacks sentient nervous systems.”
“Medical research vessel studying the Terran Plagues crashes into hive world. Viral outbreak causes death toll in the Billions.”
“Bacterial infection in Likunki baffles doctors, no known antibiotics are effective.”
“Reactor overload at Data Hypercenter causes trillions in economic damage.”
“Conspiracy theorist accuses Terrans of being behind recent unrest, analysts skeptical.”
“Chaos as Perringian Empire descends into Civil War. Linghona suspected of funding rebels.”
The pattern was disturbing to say the least. It could be a random coincidence. Stranger things have happened in galactic history before. But few things match the bizarreness of this. Either way, the Emperor should be made aware.
The ship shuddered as the docking procedure was completed. A civilian freighter inbound from the Edge was experiencing reactor trouble. A hail was sent out and the Inquisitive was the nearest vessel.
Normally they wouldn’t respond to such hails, but the Inquisitive was officially flagged as a communications vessel. They had to keep their cover
She then tabbed over to the next display. The Terran question still remained.
For the past century, the validity of the Sol-4 incident has been muddled by distortions and lies. What was known was this: A multi-megaton detonation from a piece of unexploded Terran ordinance ejected a large object into Sol-4’s atmosphere, followed shortly thereafter by the activation of a warp drive.
The Kyrenian soldier who witnessed it firsthand swore up and down that it was a Terran remnant fleeing on an ark. His helmet footage would’ve been proof enough, however the cameras malfunctioned before he could return to base. Forensics determined it was due to radiation from the blast.
Nearby surveillance satellites were heavily affected by an abnormally large electromagnetic pulse. Some recorded the object as breaking up before exiting the atmosphere. Others said the object made it into space before warping away.
Thrun’krzc suspected foul play. Those satellites were hardened against EMP attacks specifically because of the Terran fondness for nuclear weapons. Discrepancies found in their programming could be blamed on the EMP, but a cyberattack seemed more likely.
Suddenly, the Holograph glitched and the lights went black. The emergency lights came on automatically. The ship’s intercom crackled and a garbled message came through, eventually clearing.
“Apologies everyone.” The captain spoke. “It appears the freighter’s reactor problem was caused by malware. It transferred onboard when we docked. Rest assured, our cyberdefense team will have the situation under control. Please remain where you are until it is resolved.”
Another burst of static, then it fell silent.
To most, this would be unconcerning. However Thrun’krzc was an experienced officer. She knew what a cyberattack looked like. They were being boarded.
Flicking the safety off of her holstered sidearm she ran to the room’s door. She clicked the button but it remained in place, dead. Resolving herself, she deactivated the door’s electronics and disengaged the hydraulics. Gripping the handhold at the bottom, she lifted it up.
Drawing her weapon, she moved through the ship’s darkened passageways. All of the primary bulkheads were sealed. Approaching one, she could hear muffled screams and weapons fire from behind it.
But just before she reached it, a powerful explosion blew the door apart. A large chunk caught her in the side, knocking her to the ground. She groaned, rolling around disoriented. Gripping her side, she could feel three of her arms were broken.
Through the smoke, clusters of red lights slowly approached her. From the darkness, robotic figures approached with firearms. Her eyes widened in recognition.
Bipedal with two arms, about two meters in stature, chemical-based projectile weapons rather than plasma-based, advanced cybernetics replacing organic limbs, the Terrans have returned.
Several of the Terrans moved past while one stayed, its weapon pointed at her. It spoke to another through a vocalizer. Thrun’krzc couldn’t understand it, but she prayed for her life. “Sargent, looks like one of the VIP’s that PHOBOS designated.”
Another crouched down. Its face was fully covered by its helmet. Eight glowing red eyes in two pairs of four stared at her. Thrun’krzc froze in place. Her skin crawled as it examined her with an uncanny gaze.
“Looks like it, the twins will be happy. DEIMOS has been wanting to talk to one of these for a while.” It rose, nodding to a Terran that stood behind her. “Bag the xeno and bring it back for interrogation.”
With a sharp blow to the back of her head, Thrun’krzc’s world went black.
A/N: This was mostly written when I posted the first entry, so expect a greater delay for the next. Like I said before, this story is really just a way for me to explore concepts and experiment a bit. Hope it was entertaining.