Hey, welcome to my house! I'm sure you remember me from my last rule set explaining how to grab a nice cup of ramen for yourself, today I'll explain how to simply exist past midnight.
Bathroom Segment

1. You need to use the bathroom past midnight? Alright well, head to the bathroom and turn on the light, shut the door behind you and make sure it's locked. We wouldn't want any unwanted guests now would we?
   
2. Check behind the curtains and then check in the laundry area where the washing machine and dryer are, make sure there's nothing there. Double check, or even triple check just to be safe. If there's nothing continue to your business.
   

2A. If there is an unusual object in any of the spots, wake me up and I will take care of it, no worries about interrupting my sleep I might actually be awake anyways.
2B. If there is a creature in either spot, you have two options depending on what it's like. If it's small or similar in stature to you, kill it. End its life immediate, rip it to shreds do everything in your power to destroy it. If it's bigger than you run away and hide inside my room, wake me up and pray. Be sure you're not too slow escaping the bathroom, or else.

1. If all goes well, wash your hands. Before you do anything, stare at the mirror for a while, if it blinks grab something and break the mirror then call me. (No worries the mirror will be fixed in the morning). A better way to confirm is playing rock paper scissors, if your reflection wins or loses do as I previously stated.

3A. If you're brushing your teeth late at night, look up to the mirror after you rinse or anytime you look away, make sure the reflection isn't staring out you. If it is, refer to rule 3.
3B. If under any circumstance the reflections eyes are completely black say "Goodnight" and close your eyes, this will ensure your death is swift and painless, or it will create a slim chance you live. If you somehow survive go to bed and don't ever get up until 6 AM.

1. If all goes well, please check the shower and laundry area once more, of something is there refer to rule 2A and 2B.
   
2. Turn off the lights and make ABSOLUTELY sure you close the bathroom door. After that be very quick about making it back to bed.
   
3. I don't recommend showering past midnight, but if you are going to, refer to rule 2 and it's variants when entering the restroom. Turn on the shower and get in.
   
4. Check the edges on each side of the curtains make sure nothing is reaching in, use water to get the fabric to stick to the shower wall, my father bought a strange non water proof inner curtain.
   
5. Whatever you do, DO NOT close your eyes while showering. If something's in your eye, power through and close one eye and switch between them if you need to then rinse or wipe out whatever is in your eye.
   
6. Once you're finished showering exit the shower, dry off and before you leave you must obviously check behind the shower and the laundry before leaving. Afterwards get dressed and swiftly make your way to where you're staying, which will be my room.
   

This is it for the first part of the surviving past midnight at my house! Please stay tuned for the next part coming soon. Hope you enjoyed!

LESSON 135. If I defend myself I am attacked.
Who would defend himself unless he thought he were attacked, that the attack were real, and that his own defense could save himself? And herein lies the folly of defense; it gives illusions full reality, and then attempts to handle them as real. It adds illusions to illusions, thus making correction doubly difficult. And it is this you do when you attempt to plan the future, activate the past, or organize the present as you wish.
You operate from the belief you must protect yourself from what is happening because it must contain what threatens you. A sense of threat is an acknowledgment of an inherent weakness; a belief that there is danger which has power to call on you to make appropriate defense. The world is based on this insane belief. And all its structures, all its thoughts and doubts, its penalties and heavy armaments, its legal definitions and its codes, its ethics and its leaders and its gods, all serve but to preserve its sense of threat. For no one walks the world in armature but must have terror striking at his heart.
Defense is frightening. It stems from fear, increasing fear as each defense is made. You think it offers safety. Yet it speaks of fear made real and terror justified. Is it not strange you do not pause to ask, as you elaborate your plans and make your armor thicker and your locks more tight, what you defend, and how, and against what?
Let us consider first what you defend. It must be something that is very weak and easily assaulted. It must be something made easy prey, unable to protect itself and needing your defense. What but the body has such frailty that constant care and watchful, deep concern are needful to protect its little life? What but the body falters and must fail to serve the Son of God as worthy host?
Yet it is not the body that can fear, nor be a thing of fear. It has no needs but those which you assign to it. It needs no complicated structures of defense, no health-inducing medicine, no care and no concern at all. Defend its life, or give it gifts to make it beautiful or walls to make it safe, and you but say your home is open to the thief of time, corruptible and crumbling, so unsafe it must be guarded with your very life.
Is not this picture fearful? Can you be at peace with such a concept of your home? Yet what endowed the body with the right to serve you thus except your own belief? It is your mind which gave the body all the functions that you see in it, and set its value far beyond a little pile of dust and water. Who would make defense of something that he recognized as this?
The body is in need of no defense. This cannot be too often emphasized. It will be strong and healthy if the mind does not abuse it by assigning it to roles it cannot fill, to purposes beyond its scope, and to exalted aims which it cannot accomplish. Such attempts, ridiculous yet deeply cherished, are the sources for the many mad attacks you make upon it. For it seems to fail your hopes, your needs, your values and your dreams.
The “self” that needs protection is not real. The body, valueless and hardly worth the least defense, need merely be perceived as quite apart from you, and it becomes a healthy, serviceable instrument through which the mind can operate until its usefulness is over. Who would want to keep it when its usefulness is done?
Defend the body and you have attacked your mind. For you have seen in it the faults, the weaknesses, the limits and the lacks from which you think the body must be saved. You will not see the mind as separate from bodily conditions. And you will impose upon the body all the pain that comes from the conception of the mind as limited and fragile, and apart from other minds and separate from its Source.
These are the thoughts in need of healing, and the body will respond with health when they have been corrected and replaced with truth. This is the body’s only real defense. Yet is this where you look for its defense? You offer it protection of a kind from which it gains no benefit at all, but merely adds to your distress of mind. You do not heal, but merely take away the hope of healing, for you fail to see where hope must lie if it be meaningful.
A healed mind does not plan. It carries out the plans that it receives through listening to wisdom that is not its own. It waits until it has been taught what should be done, and then proceeds to do it. It does not depend upon itself for anything except its adequacy to fulfill the plans assigned to it. It is secure in certainty that obstacles can not impede its progress to accomplishment of any goal that serves the greater plan established for the good of everyone.
A healed mind is relieved of the belief that it must plan, although it cannot know the outcome which is best, the means by which it is achieved, nor how to recognize the problem that the plan is made to solve. It must misuse the body in its plans until it recognizes this is so. But when it has accepted this as true, then is it healed, and lets the body go.
Enslavement of the body to the plans the unhealed mind sets up to save itself must make the body sick. It is not free to be the means of helping in a plan which far exceeds its own protection, and which needs its service for a little while. In this capacity is health assured. For everything the mind employs for this will function flawlessly, and with the strength that has been given it and cannot fail.
It is, perhaps, not easy to perceive that self-initiated plans are but defenses, with the purpose all of them were made to realize. They are the means by which a frightened mind would undertake its own protection, at the cost of truth. This is not difficult to realize in some forms which these self-deceptions take, where the denial of reality is very obvious. Yet planning is not often recognized as a defense.
The mind engaged in planning for itself is occupied in setting up control of future happenings. It does not think that it will be provided for, unless it makes its own provisions. Time becomes a future emphasis, to be controlled by learning and experience obtained from past events and previous beliefs. It overlooks the present, for it rests on the idea the past has taught enough to let the mind direct its future course.
The mind that plans is thus refusing to allow for change. What it has learned before becomes the basis for its future goals. Its past experience directs its choice of what will happen. And it does not see that here and now is everything it needs to guarantee a future quite unlike the past, without a continuity of any old ideas and sick beliefs. Anticipation plays no part at all, for present confidence directs the way.
Defenses are the plans you undertake to make against the truth. Their aim is to select what you approve, and disregard what you consider incompatible with your beliefs of your reality. Yet what remains is meaningless indeed. For it is your reality that is the “threat” which your defenses would attack, obscure, and take apart and crucify.
What could you not accept, if you but knew that everything that happens, all events, past, present and to come, are gently planned by One Whose only purpose is your good? Perhaps you have misunderstood His plan, for He would never offer pain to you. But your defenses did not let you see His loving blessing shine in every step you ever took. While you made plans for death, He led you gently to eternal life.
Your present trust in Him is the defense that promises a future undisturbed, without a trace of sorrow, and with joy that constantly increases, as this life becomes a holy instant, set in time, but heeding only immortality. Let no defenses but your present trust direct the future, and this life becomes a meaningful encounter with the truth that only your defenses would conceal.
Without defenses, you become a light which Heaven gratefully acknowledges to be its own. And it will lead you on in ways appointed for your happiness according to the ancient plan, begun when time was born. Your followers will join their light with yours, and it will be increased until the world is lighted up with joy. And gladly will our brothers lay aside their cumbersome defenses, which availed them nothing and could only terrify.
We will anticipate that time today with present confidence, for this is part of what was planned for us. We will be sure that everything we need is given us for our accomplishment of this today. We make no plans for how it will be done, but realize that our defenselessness is all that is required for the truth to dawn upon our minds with certainty.
For fifteen minutes twice today we rest from senseless planning, and from every thought that blocks the truth from entering our minds. Today we will receive instead of plan, that we may give instead of organize. And we are given truly, as we say:
If I defend myself I am attacked. But in defenselessness I will be strong, and I will learn what my defenses hide.
Nothing but that. If there are plans to make, you will be told of them. They may not be the plans you thought were needed, nor indeed the answers to the problems which you thought confronted you. But they are answers to another kind of question, which remains unanswered yet in need of answering until the Answer comes to you at last.
All your defenses have been aimed at not receiving what you will receive today. And in the light and joy of simple trust, you will but wonder why you ever thought that you must be defended from release. Heaven asks nothing. It is hell that makes extravagant demands for sacrifice. You give up nothing in these times today when, undefended, you present yourself to your Creator as you really are.
He has remembered you. Today we will remember Him. For this is Eastertime in your salvation. And you rise again from what was seeming death and hopelessness. Now is the light of hope reborn in you, for now you come without defense, to learn the part for you within the plan of God. What little plans or magical beliefs can still have value, when you have received your function from the Voice for God Himself?
Try not to shape this day as you believe would benefit you most. For you can not conceive of all the happiness that comes to you without your planning. Learn today. And all the world will take this giant stride, and celebrate your Eastertime with you. Throughout the day, as foolish little things appear to raise defensiveness in you and tempt you to engage in weaving plans, remind yourself this is a special day for learning, and acknowledge it with this:
This is my Eastertime. And I would keep it holy. I will not defend myself, because the Son of God needs no defense against the truth of his reality.

GPT-4o was announced a few hours ago by OpenAI, and although the announcement livestream is great, the real gold nuggets are in the 22 demo videos they posted on their channel.
I watched all of them, and here are the key takeaways and use cases we all should know. 👍🏻

A. The Ultimate Learning Partner

What is it? Give GPT-4o a view of the math problem you’re working on, or the objects you want to learn the language translation of, and it can teach you like no other tool can.
Why should you care? Imagine when you can hook up GPT-4o to something like the Meta Rayban glasses: then you can always have it teach you about whatever you are looking at. That can be a math problem, an object you want translated, a painting you want the history of, or a product that you want get the reviews of online. This single feature alone has incredibly many use-cases!
🔗 Video 7, Video 8

B. The Perfect Teams Meeting Assistant

What is it? Having an AI assistant during Teams meetings, whom you can talk to the same way you talk to your colleagues.
Why should you care? Their demo didn’t expound on the possibilities yet, but some of them can be…

• having the AI summarise the minutes and next steps from the meeting
• having the AI look up info in your company data and documentation pages (e.g. “what’s the sales from this month last year?”)
• having the AI work on data analysis problems with you (e.g. “create a chart showing sales over the past 5 years and report on trends”)

🔗 Video 5

C. Prepare for Interviews like Never Before

What is it? Have GPT-4o act like the company you’re interviewing for.
Why should you care? What’s changed is that the AI can now “see” you. So instead of just giving feedback on what you say, it can also give feedback on how you say it. Layer this on top of an AI avatar and maybe you can simulate the interview itself in the future?
🔗 Video 11

D. Your Personal Language Translator, wherever you go

What is it? Ask ChatGPT to translate between languages, and then speak normally.
Why should you care? Because of how conversational GPT-4o has become, the AI now helps not just with translating the words, but also the intonation of what you’re intending to say. Now pair this with GPT-enabled earphones in a few years, and you pretty much can understand any language (AirPods x ChatGPT, anyone?)
🔗 Video 3

E. Share Screen with your AI Coding Assistant

What is it? Share screen with your AI partner, and have them guide you through your work.
Why should you care? Now this is definitely something that will happen pretty soon. Being able to “share screen” to your AI assistant can help not just with coding, but even with other non-programmer tasks such as work in excel, powerpoint, etc.
🔗 Video 20

F. A future where AIs interact with each other

What is it? Two GPT-4o’s interacting with each other, that sounds indistinguishable from two people talking. (They even sang a song together!)
Why should you care? Well there’s a couple of use cases:

• can you imagine AI influencers talking to each other live on Tiktok? Layer this conversation with AI avatars and this will be a step beyond the artificial influencers you have today (e.g. the next level of lilmiquela maybe?)
• can this be how “walled” AIs can work together in the future? example: Meta’s AI would only have access to facebook’s data, while Google’s AI would only have access to google’s - will the two AIs be able interact in a similar fashion to the demo, albeit behind-the-scenes?

🔗 Video 2

G. AI Caretaking?

What is it? Asking GPT-4o to "train” your pets
Why should you care? Given GPT-4o’s access to vision, can you now have AI personal trainers for your pets? Imagine being able to have it connect to a smart dog-treat dispenser, and have the AI use that to teach your dog new tricks!
🔗 Video 12

H. Brainstorm with two GPTs

What is it? The demo shows how you can talk to two GPT-4o’s at once
Why should you care? The demo video is centered around harmonizing singing for some reason, but I think the real use case is being able to brainstorm with two specific AI personalities at once:

• one’s a Devil’s Advocate, the other’s the Angel’s advocate?
• one provides the Pros (the Optimist), the other gives the Cons (the Pessimist)?
• maybe Disney can even give a future experience where you can talk to Joy and Sadness from the movie Inside Out? - that would be interesting!

🔗 Video 10

I. Accessibility for the Blind

What is it? Have GPT-4o look at your surroundings and describe it for you
Why should you care? Imagine sending it the visual feed from something like the Meta Rayban glasses, and your AI assistant can literally describe what you’re seeing, and help you navigate your surroundings like never before (e.g. “is what I’m holding a jar of peanut butter, or a jar of vegemite?”). This will definitely be a game-changer for how the visually impaired lives their daily lives.

🔗 Video 13

If this has been in any way useful, I hope you can check out RoboNuggets where I originally shared this and other AI-related practical knowledge! (The links to the video demos are also there). My goal is not "AI daily news", as there's already too many of those, but instead share useful knowledge for everyone to take full advantage of the new AI normal. Cheers! 🥚

Not my text, resposting:
https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1crmb60/that_ww2_ufo_footage_is_possibly_narrated_by/
Props to for pointing this out!
And for this post.
Listen to the audio starting from :20 seconds up until :50 seconds on that clip that has been making the rounds. Grusch has a very particular inflection and pauses with “ahhh”, during that timeframe he does that about 3 times. He has a particular speech pattern that would be hard to disguise even with modulation.
Now listen to his opening statements here at the start from :10 to :35 he does the exact same type of inflections as in the distorted audio! Listen to them back to back, once you recognize the vocal patterns in his voice, the modulation does not hide that it is him. Why/how would RegicideAnon have a video that Grusch narrated???
Edit: this is the WW2 Archive Footage I am referring to
Edit2: pointed out his T’s also sound the same. In the opening statements at 1:08 you can hear how he ends “Current” and it ends very similarly to how he ends “It” and “Compensate” at :35 in the archived footage.
Edit3: Do Up/Downvotes affect post visibility? I only ask since from when I posted this almost an hour ago it has sat at 0, which is kinda strange that it’s being downvoted so heavily?
EDIT4: Okay so this one is a little weird, and very tinfoil-y I admit, but I feel I should point this out: Here is David Grusch’s resume
Note that during the timeframe this video was released, and around the time that MH370 occurred, David was:
July 2014 – December 2016, Adjunct Professor, School of Security and Global Studies, American Public University System (APUS)
• Undergraduate school professor developing technical coursework and program plans. Expertly instructed courses in the Intelligence Studies track, to include open source/social media analysis, signals and imagery analysis, and research methods.
December 2013 – March 2016, Chief, Intelligence Integration Division, Space Security and Defense Program (SSDP), Reston, VA (USAF Active Duty)
• Lead military intelligence officer for the SSDP Director, a member of the Senior Executive Service (SES) advising the Deputy Secretary of Defense (DEPSECDEF), Principal Deputy Director of National Intelligence (PDDNI), and National Security Council (NSC). Coordinated sensitive Multi-INT collection activities and modeling/simulation to support national space security objectives and advanced NSG programs. SSDP intelligence lead for the standup of the National Space Defense Center (NSDC).
It’s possible that during his time at the university he was analyzing and restoring WW2 archival footage? In order to verify this we’d have to find someone that knew him around that time frame to confirm or deny that he spoke of this previously.
The second thing that stood out to me was “Coordinated sensitive Multi-INT collection activities and modeling/simulation to support national space security objectives and advanced NSG programs.” I know with the recent MH370 video going around people are saying that if it WAS a hoax it would need to be created with someone with military access and very very expensive and sophisticated equipment. Possible the same equipment used to model and simulate space security objectives and NSG programs? Maybe this was a recreation of an event that the government didn’t see but was told was a possibility?
Edit5: I know many are asking how we know the voiceover wasn’t added recently, unfortunately the link to the video on RegicideAnon’s page on web archive doesn’t work, however another link to the same video was found that was posted to Facebook on September of 2015, that includes the voiceover:
https://www.facebook.com/ufovni/videos/ww2-archive-footage-of-flying-sauce510648672443495/
Thanks to for translating the description on the video:
“The following video was confiscated from the Kodiak Historical Military Museum on September 7th 1993 (the voiceover in the video actually said November 7th 1993). Originally a collection of gradings were donated with no date record or source of recording. In the video a UFO can be seen flying low on an island, alongside the planes as it approaches the runway. The location and date of filming are unknown.”
Interestingly the info about the museum and the collections is not mentioned in the clip at all, suggesting this is either a clip of a longer video or that the poster “Paranormal” somehow got more info with the clip.
Final Edit: I know that some people are in the process of actually examining the audio with professional programs so hopefully soon we’ll have concrete evidence if the voices match, however I want to leave you all and anyone else that stumbles upon the thread with this last bit; check out the following two sections and judge for yourself if this “but” sound exactly the same.
:42-:46 of the WW2 Archive Footage
27:44-27:46 of the NewsNation Interview
Please keep up the fantastic discussion and as always don’t forget to keep reaching out to your state congress representatives to keep the pressure on disclosure! We all deserve the truth, for the betterment of humanity.

Not my text, resposting:
https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1crmb60/that_ww2_ufo_footage_is_possibly_narrated_by/
Props to for pointing this out!
And u/diamondmachina for this post.
Listen to the audio starting from :20 seconds up until :50 seconds on that clip that has been making the rounds. Grusch has a very particular inflection and pauses with “ahhh”, during that timeframe he does that about 3 times. He has a particular speech pattern that would be hard to disguise even with modulation.
Now listen to his opening statements here at the start from :10 to :35 he does the exact same type of inflections as in the distorted audio! Listen to them back to back, once you recognize the vocal patterns in his voice, the modulation does not hide that it is him. Why/how would RegicideAnon have a video that Grusch narrated???
Edit: this is the WW2 Archive Footage I am referring to
Edit2: pointed out his T’s also sound the same. In the opening statements at 1:08 you can hear how he ends “Current” and it ends very similarly to how he ends “It” and “Compensate” at :35 in the archived footage.
Edit3: Do Up/Downvotes affect post visibility? I only ask since from when I posted this almost an hour ago it has sat at 0, which is kinda strange that it’s being downvoted so heavily?
EDIT4: Okay so this one is a little weird, and very tinfoil-y I admit, but I feel I should point this out: Here is David Grusch’s resume
Note that during the timeframe this video was released, and around the time that MH370 occurred, David was:
July 2014 – December 2016, Adjunct Professor, School of Security and Global Studies, American Public University System (APUS)
• Undergraduate school professor developing technical coursework and program plans. Expertly instructed courses in the Intelligence Studies track, to include open source/social media analysis, signals and imagery analysis, and research methods.
December 2013 – March 2016, Chief, Intelligence Integration Division, Space Security and Defense Program (SSDP), Reston, VA (USAF Active Duty)
• Lead military intelligence officer for the SSDP Director, a member of the Senior Executive Service (SES) advising the Deputy Secretary of Defense (DEPSECDEF), Principal Deputy Director of National Intelligence (PDDNI), and National Security Council (NSC). Coordinated sensitive Multi-INT collection activities and modeling/simulation to support national space security objectives and advanced NSG programs. SSDP intelligence lead for the standup of the National Space Defense Center (NSDC).
It’s possible that during his time at the university he was analyzing and restoring WW2 archival footage? In order to verify this we’d have to find someone that knew him around that time frame to confirm or deny that he spoke of this previously.
The second thing that stood out to me was “Coordinated sensitive Multi-INT collection activities and modeling/simulation to support national space security objectives and advanced NSG programs.” I know with the recent MH370 video going around people are saying that if it WAS a hoax it would need to be created with someone with military access and very very expensive and sophisticated equipment. Possible the same equipment used to model and simulate space security objectives and NSG programs? Maybe this was a recreation of an event that the government didn’t see but was told was a possibility?
Edit5: I know many are asking how we know the voiceover wasn’t added recently, unfortunately the link to the video on RegicideAnon’s page on web archive doesn’t work, however another link to the same video was found that was posted to Facebook on September of 2015, that includes the voiceover:
https://www.facebook.com/ufovni/videos/ww2-archive-footage-of-flying-sauce510648672443495/
Thanks to for translating the description on the video:
“The following video was confiscated from the Kodiak Historical Military Museum on September 7th 1993 (the voiceover in the video actually said November 7th 1993). Originally a collection of gradings were donated with no date record or source of recording. In the video a UFO can be seen flying low on an island, alongside the planes as it approaches the runway. The location and date of filming are unknown.”
Interestingly the info about the museum and the collections is not mentioned in the clip at all, suggesting this is either a clip of a longer video or that the poster “Paranormal” somehow got more info with the clip.
Final Edit: I know that some people are in the process of actually examining the audio with professional programs so hopefully soon we’ll have concrete evidence if the voices match, however I want to leave you all and anyone else that stumbles upon the thread with this last bit; check out the following two sections and judge for yourself if this “but” sound exactly the same.
:42-:46 of the WW2 Archive Footage
27:44-27:46 of the NewsNation Interview
Please keep up the fantastic discussion and as always don’t forget to keep reaching out to your state congress representatives to keep the pressure on disclosure! We all deserve the truth, for the betterment of humanity.

IDK WHAT TO SAY HONESTLY every time i mention im autistic or its brought up in conversation she keeps saying “you’re not, the doctor just said you show symptoms” like lady that same doctor sent me home a letter that literally reads “a diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder has been confirmed”
Also she keeps saying “the doctor says you were just borderline autistic” (im quite sure she did not because genuinely what??)
she also doesn’t want to tell my family because of my close cousins would look at me differently and one of my aunts works with “severely” autistic children and would also look down on me (I’d like to hope she wouldn’t if she works with autistic kids??) She also keeps trying to tell me about how this was my decision when literally all I wanted to do when I got my diagnosis was talk mad shit about my past teachers that completely ignored so many of my autistic traits and the mad waiting list times
And if she ever admits that yes I am autistic she pulls the “but it’s only level one though so it’s very very little autism and doesn’t affect you” like im pretty sure a disability is going to alter my life in some shape or form and those levels are supposed to describe different support needs of autism and not one general diagnosis (correct me if I’m wrong of course)
Also throughout my 2 years of waiting for an assessment EVERY time it was mentioned I got hit with the “are you sure you want to ruin your life like that with a diagnosis?” Like the only people that are gonna know are me and my gp, my employers are not gonna go digging through my assessment looking for reasons not to hire me
she’s also completely unwilling to learn anything about autism which Is… really unhelpful but not surprising
I feel like the answer is kinda obvious at this point but what the actual fuck do I do is the real question now 😭 like I understand the whole people looking at me differently thing but I also could care less so maybe I should make a big fat Facebook post saying “fun fact - I’m autistic, and i was pretty good at hiding it all from you until I got bored!” And then just post a pic of the little “autism diagnosis has been confirmed” image
IDK it’s kind of funny but also really frustrating please help me Reddit you’ve never let me down before 🙏

I don't really no where to start. I feel I've lost myself, consumed with anxiety and guilt and fear and regret and I fear, this new fear, that it's going to be the end of me if I don't start to get it out in some way, shape or form.
I guess I'll begin at the beginning...
​
I had a difficult childhood with fairly neglectful parents. A mother who openly expressed she never felt she really stepped into her mom shoes until she gave birth to my younger sister, who is three years younger than me. She is my only sibling. My mother told me when I was a kid that she "had to love me", but when my sister came around "she was finally a mother and over the moon", or simply "I always always wanted a girl". I'm not sure if this could be attributed to Post-partum depression, not that she ever researched that or was daignosed with it. That's probably just me trying to pardon my mother or something to the effect. She was 17 when she had me and I'm sure times were different then, my parents both were raised religious, father christian, mother mormon. Maybe their guilt. I ask myself why they brought me into this world if I wasn't wanted to begin with. Or, give me up for adoption to a set of guardians that would have loved me better. I know I was an accident and that's not what gets me down, I get that life be lifing and what happened happened. My difficulties stem from the feeling that my presence never gave my mother any sense of purpose, responsibility or love, or concern. She was emotionally unavailable to me virtually my entire life and I feel like that caused many issues later in my life and how I perceive myself and what I deserve. Coupled with the fact that my neglect met such extremes that I am frankly shocked that I was never picked up by child care services, maybe things were different in the 90's. I'm not sure, I was just a child then.
Much of my upbringing I didn't receive a lot of the things most people would consider essential. As a baby my crib was the sock drawer, then I grew large enough to have a closet, then slept on the floor of a walk-in closet, then I had a single bed from what I recall for maybe a year or maybe two years and I remember feeling metal springs poke me in the my ribs and I recall it being uncomfortable enough for me to move back to sleeping on the floor next to the ratty old used mattress my father found from who knows where. I remember feeling like I had to keep that secret, that the mattress they gave me was uncomfortable enough for me to sneak sleeping on the floor next to it. I think I was really afraid as coming across as ungrateful. My father came from a third world country, so the "gratefullness issue" was address frequently by my mom because "I don't have it even half as bad as what my father had to endure. And she was probably right. But it just silenced me ultimately, didn't put things into a mature context for me. I just learned that I can't complain about anything ever. Anyway, that trend didn't really change when I grew older. grade 9-10 I was sleeping on the living room couch so my sister could have privacy and a bedroom to exist in for herself - which I realize is important for an individual so I encouraged her to have the bedroom. Although I figured my parents expected me to do this for my sister regardless. I was okay with making sacrfices for those I love, it was instilled in me from a very very young age.
I do feel like my father took advantage of me in the form of labour as well, having to do custodial work with my father from 10pm to 3am, at two highschools I believe he was contracted, at that young age I honestly enjoyed just spending time with my father I think, working alongside him. When I was in grade 2 and 3 I had garbage bag duty for all the students bathrooms, and I remember loving snapping the bags open by rushing air into the bag and making it blow up like a baloon. I remember the scary unlit shadowy hallways that I couldn't perceive the ends of. No bodies to see, it felt eerie but exciting in a way - like it was a whole different world.
School was a different experience for me. It was very stressful, my parents had to move a few times a year because they would dodge rent or just generally be selfish with their dual income. They loved to party hard on the weekends. I remember wondering why my father did this to himself all the time. Hoping that we could spend quality time on a saturday, but he wouldnt get out of bed until just before dinner. I didn't really understand hangovers or alcoholism and how it meant our plans would get cancelled. I think I remember trying to wrap my head around willful self-poisoning for entertainment and how could that be more enjoyable then spending time with your son? I couldn't tell my mother why I was so sad about it. Why I didn't want to move again and again and again. Why I found it so difficult to make new friends everytime I had to switch schools. Why I couldn't just do one single full school year with one class of students. It was so hard and at the time, I didn't know anything different. It was so hard to make friends and I think it created this approach to making a "new family" of friends when I became a teenager and young adult.
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I remember always wanting to be a "good kid". The "best kid" for my parents. I feel like my parents attached this moniker to me that made things harder for me to mature into a rounded adult later in life. My parents always flaunted me as this point of accomplishment, the accomplishment that I was "so extremely well behaved". I would strive to be super polite, and a good host, try to help out when my parents had their friends over, literally fill their cups when the opportunity presented themselves. I think I did this because I must have made the conclusion that if I was quiet, super polite, helpful and useful then I had value. That I could be loved. That I could earn this love from my parents through acts of service.
I remember feeling like my sister and I had extremely different experiences growing up. When my parents were at work I took care of her, cleaned and cooked. one time my sister told my mom to eff off when she was 5 and I was 8. My mind was blown. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she had the bravery and courage to defy my mother. Looking back, my sister was just mirroring the language she learned from my parents from whenever they fought. I remembering seriously worrying and getting scared that my father was going to belt her, or use the coat hanger, which was his preference with me. I feel like my mom was always checked out and I'm hurt that she allowed my father to take his rage out on me. That my mom could care less about me being beat, but never my sibling. It was very confusing and difficult for me to process. Not that I really processed it much as a kid. I honestly just wanted to be loved and be the best child possible. Honestly though, 'm seriously so glad that my sister was spared all of that complete non-sense. I don't wish that on anyone in the world. There were some punishments where he would walk in and tell me to pull my pants down without explanation. I have memories of tearing up and saying I didn't know why this was happening, asking what I did wrong and he would just remind me that if I resisted then I would get it worse and to hurry up and get ready. My father has since apologized. I think it is how he was raised. I didn't know what to say in response, but I told him I loved him and it's in the past. But I don't know if I was being honest when I said that. My mother would still gaslight me to this day if any of this became topic of discussion, not that I'm guessing. A year ago she told me that much of my pained memories were false and this never happened. My father on the other hand typically stays pensive and unchallenging.
It seems so damned crazy writing all of this out, it feels like a heartbreaking novel and not my life at all. But it was and is my life. I have difficulties opening up and expressing my feelings and advocating for myself when the moments are true and appropriate to do so. I know it's the healthier way to communicate, but I was literally taught to stay quiet and be useful. Fast forward 20-25 years and I'm going to be 35 and I feel like just ending it all. Every year my birthday passes and I'll get a text from my family happy birthday. But they know I'm in a difficult place, they know I miss them, they know I love them and forgive them, I try the high road whenever I can but I just don't see the point anymore. they won't celebrate my life and existence, but they'll throw family gatherings for each other, birthdays, christmas, fathers day and mothers day.
On that note, another mother's day has recently passed and my mother never invited me over, I texted my father three weeks in advance in hopes of securing a time to come over and celebrate my mothers life with my family as a family. I felt particularly stung this mother's day when they celebrated and didn't text or call to invite me over. I live in the same small town so it's easy to hop over. I literally live three blocks away.
Anyway, my mother was diagnosed with cancer over christmas this year and I have been worrying for my mother ever since and thinking about my life with her and the mortal coil and the finite mount of time I may have with her. I feel like there is a large empty part in my heart that wishes my mother and I could go grab a coffee together. She can show me her ipad app art that she has been really excited about for a couple years now. She loves showing off her digital art and I love seeing her joy and how proud she is about her art. I just don't know why she couldn't feel the same for me, her only son. Maybe I'm just a her dissapointment.
I dropped out of highschool and left the family home when I was 16. I just couldn't work for my dad during the night AND go to highschool AND socialize. Something had to give. Unfortunately it was highschool and my parents didn't really care about that at all. They were just... fine with it. they supported my sister through college and she was fortunately able to graduate with a veterinary degree of sorts. she still lives with them now as she pays off her student debt, but I left and travelled and worked on music for over a decade so I admit that I was entirely out of the family picture for some time. But as I get older, not wanting to repeat the mistakes of my parents I fear that that is precisely what's been creeping up in my life.
five years ago I met the absolute most wonderful human being and I am so lucky to have my partner in my life. She and I are engaged now and set to be married. I hoped that the news would overwhelm my parents with excitement and joy. Maybe a facebook post about their son, share some family pictures or something. But they did nothing at all. I think they showed off pictures of the trip to Mexico that week instead.
I just don't really understand how I'm this unworthy of their love and unfortunately now I'm realizing that illusion that I am unworthy has infected my relationship with my fiance. I love her so much but when I can't fix everything in her life I feel like I am the failure and the guilt overhelms me so much and the guilt is such a strong motivator for me, and it usually motivates me into becoming the biggest doormat in the world. I've never worked harder for a relationship or invested this much energy. I feel she deserves it. But I don't advocate for myself. So I build up resentment. Like I clean the house constantly and work and help bail out of her bad spending habits and cover her rent without question and this and that. To be clear, she doesn't take advantage of me and that's not how I feel about it. But I do let this annoyance build up inside of me because I don't know how to communicate my feelings in a healthy way. I'm scared I'll lose the person if I speak up, or I'll be gaslit. Again, that's not my partner that gaslights. That's just generally how I feel I'll be treated if I open up with people. It all goes back to my childhood. It's affected every friendship and work relationship I've had since.
When I was 20-ish, 15 years years ago I did the classic, "seek the relationship that most comfortably fits into the patterns you experienced with your parents". And so I trapped myself in a horrific and extremely damaging relationship with a girl I'll call K. She has undiagnosed bipolaBPD, she would never seek help but self-medicate. She ended up in the hospital maybe four times for self-harming and this where she was considered to have these diseases by a few doctors on different occasions. Anway, it turned into a relationship of abuse and it wasn't exactly new territory for me. I was ashamed in that 8 year relationship. I wanted out so bad, but she would threaten to unalive everytime I tried to get away. Of course, some weeks would go by and i would get my hair pulled out of my scalp, a knife waving in the air in front of my face, spat in the face, kicked, punched, bit, a pot of freshly boiled ramen soup thrown in my face and eyes. What's worse is that I seeked police intervention on multiple occasions. Every single time the police visited, they talked me out of pressing charges, asking me " well if she doesn't have any place to go, then do you have a place you can stay at, or the shelter?". twice they talked me out of a restraining order, that legal proceedings would take forever. Adn de-escalting me from wanting to take measures to ensure my safety because she may end up on the street as a result. To this day, I absolutely wish I advocated for myself here and pushed for a restraining order. I'm so mad at myself for not doing so.
Unfortunately, fast forward a couple years into that relationship and one evening everything would finally hit the fan. I told her to never touch me again and I absolutely meant it. she had just yanked out the largest chunk of my hair to date, to the point where my scalp was bleeding and I could even see epidermal matter still attached to the folicle ends that were in her clenched fingers. My head bled a bit and I pushed her off of me. Telling her that I needed to leave, that I was walking to my secure jam space just a 10 minute walk away. It had a leather couch in a cold concrete basement, but hey at least I would be safe for the night and I could play my drums and try and blow off this anxiety and fear in a way that was safe albeit very noisy.
She hated that I wanted to leave and convinced herself I would never return. To be fair, that was the energy I had. I never wanted to see her face again and have her name on my lips after that night. So her tactic was simple, to threaten me with calling the cops and tell them that I violently pushed her. I called her bluff and said "go ahead and I will just tell them everything you've done - yet again. All I am doing is going to the space to sleep, I said, maybe play drums." She called the cops and told them she was pushed into a wall, and she felt very unsafe. Which yes, I did push her off me when she attacked me. In the past, I tried various tactics, to run away didn't work, she just always chased me down. Or sometimes I would just sit there while she was violent against me and I just "dissapeared" kind of like how I would when my dad used his coat hanger. This time, I just pushed her off of me, I was done with the relationship at that point and we both knew it. Anyway, she called the police, they arrived and when questioned I told them that I pushed her off of me in self-defence. I was drinking that night and it didn't help my case as I was arrested without question that evening and I was charged on the spot without question with domestic assault. It devasted me. I asked the police how this could happen lawfully. That she is an abuser and there is a history of this multiple times. That I've requested a restraining order. They explained that in quebec the laws are a little different and in the case domestic cases, if there is a male aggressor against a female, then the male is automatically charged to the fullest extent. I was absolutelyu devasted by this. I can't tell you the amount of fear and anger I felt in that jail cell that night.
I feel so incredibly betrayed by the justice system, keep in mind, this is law that from what I understand is only in Quebec, I was there for music at the time with an old friend whom I am no longer in contact with. I don't think the rest of the country operates under law in this way. Now I appreciate that they are vigilant about woman abuse victims, but the law shouldn't be this absurdly biased. It just doesnt feel just and fair to me. Covert abusers shouldn't be able to take advantage of the justice system in this way, but it happens.
It was an awful experience, I was homeless for a couple months afterward, not allowed to retrieve my belongings, so I lost all of my life "crap" that I had built up, years of hardwork and investment. I mention this because I realize later in life that I have intense collecting behaviour. maybe as a self-soothing behaviour. But I love building up collections of my hobby stuff as I have many and I feel they keep me regulated and it's a form of therapy for me. In any case, I lost everything when I left that whole situation. It sucks, although ultimately it's clearly best that I got out of that dreadful circumstance. I flew across the country to my hometown and to be closer to my family and old friends from highschool. It's quite a small town mind you.
Unfortunately, my classic tendency to hide and not advocate for myself created an opportunity for my abusive ex. A year following those events, despite me assuring her that I had to block her because I flew away to start a new life provinces away. That I wished her the best. That I even promised I would never tell a soul what she did to me. Not to mention that unfortunately we live in a society where nobody really has an ounce of sympathy for a male abuse victim. I had every intention to keep that promise, but she couldn't trust me ultimately. I think her logic was maybe to just beat her ex to "the punch". Kill or be killed or something like that. I don't live my life like that so I don't really know what her plan was. But she made a bunch of posts on various social media platforms for all of our mutual friends, music friends, coworkers etc. that the relationship was over and she was free. That she got out of a cycle of abuse and she was ready to start a new chapter of her life. She never used my name, just that she was glad she got away from her toxic and abusive ex once and for all.
It was exactly like that night a year prior, she threatened me with this outcome she could design for me, and I called her on her bluff by saying I was still going to block her and I can't control what she does with her life or how she conducts herself, but that I was out and to never contact me ever again. She made me regret that decision.
The posts she made that day got so many likes and support from so many of our mutual friends, even musician mates that were closer to me than her, and it absolutely destroyed me, not just internally but socially. I no longer make music anymore and it hurts to go outside into the world because it feels like everybody sees me as this monster. And still I don't have a voice to inform anyone otherwise - except my family and my fiance. I have no friends anymore. They all left my life with the belief that I did all of these horrible and awful things.
I just don't trust people anymore as a result and it's just caused me to become extremely bitter and depressed. I ruminate on the past, maybe in attempts to fix the past so I can move on. So I could do better, so I don't have to punish myself for my mistakes in the past. But it just reopens every emotional wound I have and they never get a chance to heal. That was maybe 7 years ago now and I'm still replaying these events in my head every single morning for about 1 - 2 hrs. Then I go completely numb for the majority of the rest of the day, shallow breathing, and the mildest sadness that mascarades as fatigue and disinterest.
There are some days where I seriously fear for the future and I just feel like every cruel soul will inherit this earth and that's the future, they built this world of suffering and they deserve to inherit it. Their toxic flag staked so deep into the earth in reclamation. The future isn't holding any seats for people like us. I'm so heartbroken and defeated. I feel like white-wolfing my fiance because she deserves better than this traumatized person that hides from the world. I feel like giving her my collection of collections so she can sell it all off and pay off her 10k of credit debt, then with this act of kindness I can go out not feeling like a guilt-ridden defeated loser. And leave on a high note.
When I'm alone, I get trapped in these ruminating cycles and it's the angriest I ever get. It's reached the point where I feel like I am actually reliving all this past trauma every morning and I can't do it anymore. I just feel like I am so at the end of whatever this ride was.
I don't have any friends anymore and everyone but my fiance thinks I am a monster and it's just unbearable.
I just don't even know. I am even afraid that someone will read this post and suss through all of this and make the connection. Then I'll get another new email or random throwaway account with an insta message that says "I told you you would never be able to get over me. You can move on, but you will never be able to erase the past. Never truly. You know where to find me."
It's haunting and it's poisonous. I just feel haunted and poisoned and I don't know if there is a snake oil potent enough or antitode true enough to get me back to the generous, lighthearted, energetic kid I once was.
To whoever was willing to read through all of this, thank you for hearing me out. I don't know what advice I am even asking for here. I'm hoping just speaking this out into the world in some way can alleviate this misery. I don't know.

TL:dr- my guy got upset at me for having to haul a sectional down 3 flights of stairs, even though I didn’t KNOW it was on the third floor, and I’m simply upset he was angry at me over something I didn’t know and made something I was so excited to get into an unpleasant experience
To preface I adore furniture. Not only did I use to sell furniture, my mother reupholstered furniture and I wanted to be an interior designer. One of my proudest achievements in my life was decorating my first apt in amazingly nice furniture pieces over 3 years while living in poverty. One of the saddest things was having to sell all the furniture. I pintrest furniture. I scroll Facebook marketplace for furniture as a pass-time and daydream. At one point in my life it was the MOST fun hobby ever to go on day long trips to travel to other states to pick up cool furniture I’d found there. So you could say furniture is a deep love of mine.
What’s troubled me is in the last 4 years we had to downsize ALL my furniture because moving into a VERY small living area. The sale of all the furniture went into our saving. His hobby is house plants- a much easier hobby to fit in a home. So about half our living space is dedicated to his hobby. I’ve been pretty miserable unable to decorate for 4 years, and I’ve been pretty open about this. We’ve also been saving for a house so while I don’t begrudge him spending a 100 or so a month on his hobby; there’s no room to justify me spending say 200 on an antique writing desk we can’t fit here.
About 4 months ago I found my dream bedroom suite. When I say it was a dream I mean I’ve been looking for this EXACT furniture set every week for almost 8 years. I found it, for $400 for what’s around 8k worth of furniture- it was a 6hr drive and a headache to pick up. Without help to move it I missed out on the set. I was devastated. It was actually really upsetting because it’s something I knew I’d never find again in my price range. He reassured it me wasn’t a big deal and that I’d find it again. I won’t, I know, because I’ve been looking for that set for a decade. I explained to him that this was a passion and a great love of mine, it makes me feel at home in my space and expressed where I live. Relaxed. I explained how important decorating my home was to me and how glum I’ve been not being able to do it for years now. I asked him if next time we found a piece that worked in our budget if he would REALLY make an effort to help me get it because it was really important to me that he support my hobby the way I support his: I’ve learned about every hobby he has and listen in earnest, memorizing all the little things so I can talk to him about it. He likes to collect mugs- I made him a mug display, he likes to garden-I buy him exotic plants, he likes dinosaurs-I take the day off work to drive 2hrs both ways to pick up some rare dino collectibles. He says he will and I’m ecstatic, and begin talking about all the great adventures we’ll have collecting interesting pieces for our home.
One day he says the couch is old and hurts his back, he mentions it for about a month. I’m exstatic! Because it’s the only piece of furniture we have to sit on in our small home. I’m dedicated to finding us a really really nice one second hand, one he’ll like too, one that has back support, one we can cuddle on. I hunt for a week and he vetos several that he doesn’t like but I find a $2000 couch in good condition for 100. I’m so excited it’s actually in our budget, it’ll fit in our small space, it’s perfect! I feel accomplished, I feel motivated, I feel EXCITED to decorate the house. This is the most excited I’ve been to buy anything in YEARS. I’m giddy. Actual childlike glee!
When we get there to pick up the couch we realize the sellers didn’t happen to mention it was on the third floor. It’s a sectional but lightweight. I specifically picked so we could arrange it in our tiny space to have lots of little spots to read. And I can tell instantly this is going to be a problem. He’s going to get upset. I’m so worried he’ll be upset I try to overly positively handle everything- and get injured several times just trying to get it over quick and simple. And arm of the couch slams me in the throat and my hand gets rammed into a wall blood bruising my thumb. He’s uncharacteristicly unconcerned I’m hurt. All the climbing makes us both sick and shaky, so I suggest we sit and wait to fill better in the Ac before driving home.
When we head back I become very aware he’s not talking to me. He’s angry. I already know it. I try to apologize, to make things better, to explain I didn’t know that it was on the third floor and wouldn’t have got it if I had. That it was just a great deal and worked great for what we needed and it was in our budget (it’s almost impossible to find anything in our budget) and that we wouldn’t have been able to get anything near as nice so cheaply, that I’m sorry I know it was more than what he signed up to help me with and if I had known I would have paid family to help move it or thought of something else. I know his annoyance is justified. he explains it to me and to his merit he does it calmly, but he’s still upset at me- not just for the stairs, but for the drive, and for getting a sectional to begin with when “all we needed” was a cheap small love seat, he doesn’t GET IT and he’s pissed
He tried to be nice about it but he’s miserable and mad at me and doesn’t at all get why I was excited over it. By the end I feel a bit choked up, and teary eyed. I’m not a crier but I suppose he must have seen me tearing up because he clarifies he wants to support my hobby but doesn’t get it.
Yes things went arry but I thought it was almost a funny mishap, it wasn’t too bad getting the piece, we saved thousands of dollars, it’s the only NICE piece in our house and I was so excited to impress him with it. That he was angry, that he wasn’t even worried I was hurt- just ripped through me. Getting that piece of furniture, the first piece of furniture we bought together for our first home together meant a lot to me. To try to show him I wanted us to have something nice together I moved our old ripped up couch out by myself, scrubbed cleaned and arranged the new furniture by myself and moved every piece of it I could by myself. I also cleaned and arrange the living so that he could comfortably sit and enjoy the new seating in a well organized clean space. I stayed up for hours doing it alone till my body ached. But he’s still upset with me and I’ve lost all the “happiness” I had to decorate with him, I just feel embarrassed and sad. I don’t think I’ll be able to ask him to go with me again to get a piece, I don’t think he’d want to. It all just got so bungled. I just feel…. Like it was a missed opportunity to laugh and make a good memory, now it’s a bad memory I think will stick around.
I had hoped we’d travel together getting new pieces and making new memories. Now I just know we never will.

the cheaters are brazen, they don't care to hide it anymore. almost every few lobbies is a team of aimbotters running around the map with 100 round mags wall bang-headshotting my team in milliseconds.
It's just not fun anymore, i just don't know how activision, a multi-billion dollar company, is so slow to act on these things.

I think this is a topic we should continuously bring up and discuss because I believe creating a base or home is such an important part of Fallout. After a long day of fighting off the monsters and horrors of Appalachia, we sometimes just want to come home to our homey base and admire our creation and hard work. The more I build, the more I feel restricted on what I can do and have to really plan and sacrifice some creative designs to meet with the building limitations. With the evermore additions to things we can add to our base, base building really needs to be refined. I'll add what we had last post and what suggestions were made as well. I'll also add more of what I've noticed from my return to the game. Previous post for reference.

Disclaimer of Understanding

Listen, I understand there could be hardware limitations in regarding to number of items or models that can be loading and unloaded at any time for the servers though we need to find some middle ground. A way to optimize the base limits to allow for more creativity. I also understand there could be programming limitations though refactoring some the base building limits is a positive change and worth while, especially to continue improving on this game long term (if that's what is planned to be).

Quick bullet points of Ideas from previous post

• Wallpaper to be painted on BOTH sides of the wall.
• For the love of god, increase base building limits, since we cant have two camps at the same time. I'm trying to decorate haha. Ideally id love a camp to build my vendor store and a home but hey..im good with either.
• why hard limit displays? I'm a collector, let me show off my collectables :( .. increase or remove display limits.
• Vendor should have a recently sold list. Like 5 items. Sometimes I miss the notifications :(
• allow me to mass select items and scrap. Unless I'm missing something I cant seem to find this feature anywhere.
• posters and wallpaper seem to have troubles meshing. Hopefully this could be fixed. I find posters hide behind wallpaper. Also..
• why does changing wallpaper remove everything off of wall. Sad times. Hopefully this could be changed.
• No-Atmosphere-4145 commented: I'd love for a feature where adding stairs won't cause the entire construction to become unremovable.
• Belickade commented: And how about an undo feature for the times you accidentally scrap a camp object.
• Similar to No-Atmospher-4145's post but I'll add it.. JakLynx commented: I’d love it if adding stairs to a vault wall door with vault door didn’t break the door and literally prevent you from entering.

Base Building Limits Extended

Lets talk about some Quality of Life updates that would help our base building experience. I'll dive deeper into some of the points that need some extra points to it.

For the love of god, increase base building limits, since we cant have two camps at the same time..

A further increase to maximum storage is not what we're talking about ( while this is something that can be improved upon), we want to be able to build more around our base, the total base building limit is what needs to be increased. Wires should not be apart of the base building costs in my opinion, this would help alleviate some room in the limit. I'm also hoping that wallpaper and things inside the displays don't count towards it but I have not personally checked.
To add more to the strain of base limits, is it possible to put things on shelves? I feel like they're so bare, id like to have them display items like display cases do.. that would be an amazing change!
Speaking of display cases..

why hard limit displays? I'm a collector, let me show off my collectables :( .. increase or remove display limits.

Lets increase these AND do not have the items count towards base storage. It sucks so much to see my STASH storage so high and be like "oh, its all the stuff on display" .. AND in the vendor. Putting items in your vendor or on display should remove them from your STASH. This would help the currently implemented STASH limit and it would also be such an improvement to the build system.
I also believe the limits on display shouldn't be towards the category but towards the item. Wall Displays should be separate than the floor glass display or any floor display to be honest. Even if you didn't increase the total limit for building displays and just separated how many you can make of each (mind you don't decrease the amount to 5 each..), this would improve our base building quality of life.
To further talk about displays, sometimes I can't place wall mounted displays because that wall doesn't have support below, though I was still able to build the wall. If the wall exists, the wall mounted display should be able to go on it.

And how about an undo feature for the times you accidentally scrap a camp object.

This is self explanatory though this is me emphasizing that this is huge. Big feature needed. Just a general undo last change is such a big help.

STASH Quality of Life Updates

These points were mentioned before but I'm going to mention them again. I understand that Fallout 1st is a good way for you to make some money on the stash limits, so upgrading the already set 1200 storage limit is unlikely BUT there are things that count towards stash that should not be. Such as:

• Vendor Items. These should not count towards our stash limit, its in the vendor..
• Displays. The item or weapon is being displayed outside my stash, therefore should not count towards my stash. This should be the case for all displays including bobblehead displays, Nuka-cola displays and so forth. This would alleviate so much space for some people and allow there to be more room without needing to increase the hard limit on STASH space.

That's pretty much it on that front.

New Ideas

Scrapping.
Scrapping my building item (generator, wall, lights) and losing most of its materials is a little frustrating. If I built it, I should get my materials back though I understand that is what storing items is and that you want to continue to have a game loop for gathering materials. So, its not a huge thing if this isn't changed in some way. Maybe I'm upset because I scrapped a generator to build it after I change the floor and didn't have enough materials anymore to re-build the generator. lol.
Fast Travel Spawn Point
This is a really cool request. Give us the ability to choose where players spawn when they fast travel to my base? Have one custom spawn point that must be put on a foundation or floor. Reason I say this is because my base is on a cliff and sometimes people or even myself don't spawn in my base but on the side of the cliff and then I have to fast travel again. It'd be nice to just have them spawn in a location that is preset so that no one falls or gets stuck.
I can see players setting up traps and what not with this, though I think the benefit outweighs the negative. There are many free fast travel locations if you get stuck and you only drop junk on death so? Maybe I don't know of other negatives from dying but I feel like most people want to show off their homes and not setup prisons lmao.
Shelves as displays
I talked about this earlier though shelves feel empty and I feel like my kitchen shelving would look nice if I can store some ingredients on them. Make it look more full and lively. Otherwise idk what to do with them lmao. Doesn't need to be crazy, just like fill the front side of the shelving unit and have 3 or 4 items to be displayed on the shelf. Also if this is implemented, items on shelves should not go towards STASH limits.
Renaming Power Chassis
I get confused on which power chassis hold what or displays what. Its like 7 power chassis in my stash. It'd be nice to name them lol.
Mark as To Be Scrapped
It'd be nice to mark items as "To Be Scrapped" so you know what you want to scrap, or even sell. That way you don't scrap something by mistake.
Guest Book
I remember reading somewhere an idea of having a guest sign book so that people that visit could sign saying like "I was here' or maybe "yolo 420" lol but it could also be emotes, stickers, pre-generated phrasing that people could sign with like a date saying when they signed it. Would be cool. Even something that could be done on the personal terminal?.

Conclusion

Look, I get it, some of these features are big asks but overall the quality of life improvements to STASH limits by removing the items displayed and in the vendor would be such a good change and one that wouldn't require too much refactoring of the CAMP code base (I hope). A lot of what was mentioned is nice to have but some are like really important to the ecosystem of building your base. Display limit segregation, removing wires as counting towards base limit, fast travel spawn point, undo button are just some to name that would bring big changes to the base building feature in this game.
Thanks for coming to my ted talk. Until next time!

Little Author's Note up here since it was missed in the last chapter by some people: I don't approve of anyone "narrating" or using my story for their youtube channels or whatever as it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been getting messages whenever I post a chapter asking the same thing and I keep saying no. If you see this story on youtube or elsewhere, I didn’t approve of it or give them my permission to do so.
Also I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had some difficulty writing it, so it’s probably not my best quality.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I smirk at my wrist data pad as I can see Triwt is basically hunting and chasing down the remaining pirates while expertly leading them to me for a trap.
“Triwt, you know me so well.” I say with a fully smug tone as I ready my rifle and prepare to open fire.
Not yet
The footsteps are getting louder.
Not yet…
The footsteps, given how good my hearing is, have now rounded the corner and there’s a shriek of terror.
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
I can’t help but smirk, it seems the ugly bastard did come aboard the ship. What’s better is that Triwt has grabbed him, leaving the remaining 4 pirates not looking this way.
Now.
Triwt, Female Valis-Trobat Hybrid, Security Commander
I’m slightly annoyed as I have to constantly dodge and weave going through the corridor. These dumbasses aren’t even aiming where they're shooting. I quickly duck low to the ground to dodge a barrage of plasma bolts, when I hear the one thing I was looking forward to. Click click click…
Silence follows the clicking of empty TOR’s besides the frantic running. It’s then replaced by one of the pirates, not the Captain, shrieking as she runs ahead of the others in a panic. In no sense am I a sadistic person, but however in this situation, I might have smiled a bit to her reaction as I pick up the pace and quickly enter melee range.
Hm, maybe we can afford one prisoner…
I see the corner coming up as I whip my body around and grab the Captain with my tail.
EWWWW He’s all slimy and mucusy! Goddess this is worse than Jordan Cores bleeding on my fur. EWWW!!!
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
Despite my own internal hatred of the sensation of having to get that gross slime like mucus on my tail of all things, I still pull the Captain back as they round the corner looking back at me as they abandon their captain. I give them a wave right before a hail of gunfire shreds through them, leaving only a fine mist.
I’m surprised Cerelia is allowed to even own such a modified weapon. I can’t even shoot it while holding it with all 4 of my arms due to the recoil! She says it’s registered as a ceremonial weapon. I suppose a sudden funeral is a ceremony in itself.
I smirk at the thought before returning my attention to this gross captain wrapped up in my tail.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I let out a relaxed sigh as I released the trigger from my grip. I don’t particularly enjoy battle, but there seems to be something within my own instincts that triggers dopamine at the end of a battle.
Probably something to do with Altrins being a hunter race before we were modern and spacefaring. Might have to ask a historian about that, if not at the very least a psychologist.
I lower my rifle as Triwt slithers down the hall, her fur undeniably red in a few spots where her fur was exposed, but mostly on her uniform. She keeps going with the Alcoranth Captain being dragged along by her tail, already bound up and gagged.
“I can deal with the blood of Jordan Cores, but take this bastard away from me before I slit his throat for getting mucus on my tail.”
Oh, she is pissed. She’s just doing a good job at mostly containing it.
I nod before speaking, “Just knock him out for now and we’ll put him in a cryopod or something. His slime-like excretions from his skin might make him an easy flight risk since we can assume he can slip out of handcuffs and other bindings fairly easily.”
Triwt nods at me and uses a Stun Baton to knock him out for now after hitting him with probably more volts than regulated.
I suppose it’s better than bashing his head against the wall until he passes out.
The remaining guards who were left with me take the now prisoner captain away from Triwt and begin transporting him to a cryopod room meant for emergencies like if the ship’s thrusters stop working and we’re years away from rescue.
We could just set up an SOS frequency broadcast and then put everyone in cryo until rescue arrives. But now, it’s a makeshift prison for a cowardly pirate.
Now… for the real battle in all of this. The battle on the inside.
Lys, Verkrawn Male, Fauna Research Specialist
Silence. Well, except my ears are ringing from the sound of gunfire that has now stopped.
I take in a shaky breath in what feels like the first time in forever. Everything is shaking now that the fighting seems to have stopped. It seems I’m not the only one who was holding their breath for so long as other crew members near me seemed to breathe in, while a few start to break down crying.
We’re not fighters like security, Triwt, or Cerelia. Most of us had never seen people die, to say the least how brutal it was to see how Jordan Cores attacked the Alcoranth. I feel my face with my clawed hands and feel the warm liquid of my tears running down my face.
When did I start crying?
The realization hit me like a powerloader as it’s my turn to break down crying, my own legs failing me as they shook before I found myself weeping on the floor as the thoughts and emotions flooded my head with what happened and how terrible this was. I keep crying as I feel the large paw of my older sister as she slowly sits me up and holds me in a warm embrace. It makes me think about when I was younger. The days when she and I were in the orphanage. She used to hold me just like this after she would chase away the older kids who would be mean to me. I still remember some of the things she’d say to them.
“I don’t care if a Verkawn’s scales can deflect most bullets, he still has feelings!” The first thing she ever said to the bullies as she chased them off. It was also the day I met her. She had lost her family due to a Slaver raid on the colony world she was living on at the time. She didn’t tell me much about it, and I doubt she would tell me even today, but she always called me her little brother, so I started calling her my older sister. It’s been like that since.
I keep crying until it’s more of a sniffle as I slowly return the embrace.
“They will never hurt you like they hurt me, Lys.” She whispers to me before slowly turning her attention to the crew members with a sad expression. “Nor any of you. Oh, none of this was ever supposed to happen.”
“Y-You can’t predict pirates, Cerelia”
“I know, but they got so close to hurting and enslaving you. I failed to keep you all safe.”
“Cerelia, we’re fine. No one got hurt physically. We should probably just go to the nearest planetary city, maybe see some therapists and psychologists while the ship gets repaired.”
Cerelia nods as she thinks about what I said.
“Yeah, but what about the furless beast? What are we supposed to do about it?” A member says as everyone was slowly coming to grips that they are alive and well. “Are we just going to keep it here? Who knows if it’ll attack us again like it did to Lys or that Alcoranth on the floor there!?”
“He was scared!” Cerelia counters, with a hint of personal anger in her tone. “He couldn’t understand us and was only trying to escape because he thought he was in danger!”
“He was in danger? He is the danger for all I’ve seen!” They countered as I felt like shrinking down and hiding away, before a bit more of an emotional burning sensation rose up in me.
“Shut up!” I suddenly snapped. Silence follows as they wait for me to say something. I have never raised my voice.
“Sure, they found us in here because Jordan Cores had a chip on him, but he didn’t know about it! Not only that, but he at least protected us from that psychopath, breaking his own body and getting shot before doing so! You haven’t even had time to interact with him. While my interactions with him were brief, I could at least tell that he was scared and that he was sorry!” I huff as I silently cry again as I look at both Cerelia and the crew member. I think their name is R’dorn. They’ve always been brash and rude, so I had a tendency to avoid them.
R’dorn looks at me annoyed, but as they are seemingly unable to come up with a good counter argument, they storm out of the safe room.
I look at Cerelia and Triwt before sighing and sitting down. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright, you kinda said what we were all thinking.” Someone says as they place a wing on me. “That, and R’dorn needs to shut up every now and then.” There’s sounds of agreement before it becomes a group embrace of comfort. Much different to huddling in fear.
“So wait, where is Jordan Cores now? Is he okay?”
“He’s in Med Bay 07’s only regeneration pod. He’s going to be fine, but it won’t be a while until he’s out due to his injuries.” Triwt responds as she slithers to the entrance of the room. “How about everyone gets cleaned up, or takes a hot shower to calm their nerves, and in about 2 hours time, we can see how Jordan Cores is holding up?”
That sounds like a good idea. To wash away the stress and some time to think, it sounds super nice.
I let out a sigh and nod. “Yeah, that sounds good to me… I’ll be there then. I guess if everyone else wants to show up, you can as well? Not like I can stop you or force you to, but the suggestion is there. Just trying to be considerate.”
With that, I stand up and I’m escorted back to my room to try and freshen up and clear my head.
And that is chapter 9! I was personally a little bit of mental and emotional wreck while writing because sometimes I don't know what I'm doing. At least that's how it feels. Gonna try and do some experimenting as I kinda want to explore some places now as we’ve been stuck on The Opal Star since the very beginning. So what are we feeling? A desert world, tropical world, or maybe a world that’s high in gravity, but Jordan seems to be just fine? Let me know your thoughts, ideas, and suggestions below, and thank you so much for reading!
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I have a tv that I need to keep high enough away from my cat. I have it on a stand and this won’t work with his behavior. Keeping him out of the room or getting rid of him aren’t an option.
I’m now planning to mount it slightly higher on the wall and likely getting rid of the tv stand so that he can’t really reach it but I’m not sure how to handle hiding of cords and placement of my game consoles, receiver, and center channel speaker.
Since it’s an apartment, I’m a bit limited in what I can do. That said, I don’t mind cutting openings and losing part of my deposit/patching things up.

• For the center channel speaker best I can think of is to have a center speaker stand. I don’t really know of any other option short of a shelf. It’d be better if I had it above the tv but I’m assuming center channels shouldn’t ever be that high.
• Ideally, I would have my media equipment on the side but I don’t know how I’d run cables to it without access to attic space. Otherwise, I’d just hit the studs in the wall if I went horizontally with wires.
• I know there are plastic wire channels but I don’t know if any of that are bulky enough to hold 4 hdmi cables and a power cord? If there are I can get around some of this.

I’m open to other ideas too. Almost all of this would be remedied if there was a protective cover for tv screen that you can apply similar to phones. I’ve found some online you can get custom cut, but none big enough. An alternative is thick acrylic tv protectors that are sold for this purpose but they’re expensive, thick (3mm), and I don’t know how much image quality would suffer.

This is my incomplete SVTFOE the movie script. Until my friend thomasmfd convince me to scrap it here’s my incomplete SVTFOE the movie script.
Star Vs. The Forces of Evil the forces of evil the movie The film with a song called Empire of the Sun Walking on a dream while the camera pans down on a mural with the credits rolling by and hits the floor showing a Blue man with a blue sword wearing a Space helmet and a orange Tee shirt with black spots all over his shirt. Who is protecting the Empress of the Sun Hestia look who has Red hair and Red eyes and wears a White Kimono with red spots. Just then a group of people wearing brown robes and white masks are led by a bald creepy dude with a Scar on his right eye. He approaches the throne and begins to speak.
The creepy dude My majesty My name is Bob and my group are a bunch of nomads who travel from World to world gathering intel and giving them to each kingdom and we heard rumors about Cataclysm prison weakening. And we would like to have your Sword Empress of the sun. So we can use it to defeat Cataclysm.
Bob walks up the steps before Cutie's sword hangs by his neck stopping him.
Bob What’s the meaning of this guard!?
Cutiesaurs: The name is Cutiesaurs or Cutie for short. Bob Okay Cutie. Why did you stop me!?
Cutiesaurs Because I don’t trust you. Besides, Shady people are always up to no good.
Bob It’s for your own protection so let me through. Besides it is rumored that The Sun Sword is the only sword left.
Cutiesaurs I don’t Care the Gods hid those swords for protection from thieves like you, including the Fable Mew sword. Besides, it appears you want to use the empress sword to find the other swords.
Bob Well you two figure out my plan already so I guess I have no option but to take it from force.
Just then Bob uses his magic spell to pull out his sword and he and his minions begin to attack. Cutie and Molly try to fight back but it is too much for them and get captured and Bob’s minions capture Hestia as Bob grabs the sword and glances at it.
Bob This Sword is a decoy. (Bob then shatters it with his magic) Minions drag Cutie to the Castle dungeon while carry Hestia to that special place)
Cutie struggles against the minions' control while they drag him to the dungeon. Cut to five years later and we see Cutie shirtless hung up in the dungeon walls shirtless wearing only his pants and a piece of cloth covering his head except his eyes. Then Bob and his cultist.
Bob Well Cutie it’s been five years and still you won’t tell us where the Real Empress sword is!
Cutiesaur
Like I said for the last five years I don’t know.
Bob Well Cutie. I don’t need you anymore. Not since I detected the Sword of Mew and we’ve set up a trap for the holder of the sword. So Now I will give you this radio to keep you comfortable. I’ve got a queen to catch.
Bob Leaves the dungeon and enters a room which is in some blackish glow surrounded with red hue. At the floor is a star shape enclosed by a circle on the floor. There Bob stands at the edge and raises his hands which then begin to be turning a metallic silver. He begins to wave his hands and a Star shape pattern begins to have a pinkish water swirling around it then when it clears out we see Star Butterfly at the center of the Star pattern.
Bob Hello Princess My name is Bob and you have something that we need. (Bob then materializes some mask’s then drops them on the ground where mud surrounds the mask’s then the mud raises the Mask which then forms into humanoid shape).
Star Butterfly I’m sorry but this Wand isn’t yours to keep.
Star Shoots a Rainbow energy beam at Bob but he blocks it with nothing but his bare Metallic hands.
Bob I’m impressed that the sword has a few tricks up his sleeves. But I’ve had a few tricks up my sleeves myself.
Bob then shoots a sliver beam at Star and pulls out a golden butterfly from her chest and places it into a jar.
Bob I’ve taken your powers. If you want them back, give me your wand. What do you say Star?
Star Butterfly I say Narwhal blast. A large Narwhal appears and slides down destroying many of Bob's minions and then pinning Bob to a wall. She then runs away from the room.
Bob After her she must not escape with that sword.
Star flees Bob’s goons and hides in the dungeon where she begins to hear the song Always look on the bright side of light she follows the sound to a cell where she see’s Cutie hanging from the wall.
Cutiesaurs Hi there little girl, what brings you to this dank little dungeon?
Star Butterfly I’m hiding from a man and his goons who want my wand.
Cutiesaurs Oh Bob yea he wants that wand since it’s the Sword of Mew.
Star Butterfly The Sword of Mew?
Cutiesaurs Let me get out of these chains and find my helmet and shirt and find a safe place before I can explain everything
Cutiesaurus tries to break his chains but with no success.
Star Butterfly Need help?
Cutiesaurs Yeah sure just blast those chain’s
Star uses her wand to blast the chain off of Cutie
Cutiesaurs Thank you… Um I haven’t gotten your name.
Star Butterfly It’s Star Star Butterfly.
Cutiesaurs Why thank you Star. I’m Cutiesaur’s but people call me Cutie for short and I’m the royal guard of the Empress or was before Bob and his golem army took me and put me in this dungeon. Now where is my shirt? Cutie searches everywhere for his shirt until Star shows him his shirt and grabs it and puts it back on.
Cutiesaurs Thanks Star. Now I need my Helmet.
Star Butterfly Why?
Cutiesaurs Because it protects people. Because I was born with a face that is so handsome that it melts people's faces. You wouldn’t want to see people's faces melting. It's nasty.
Star Butterfly Eww. But anyway I think I saw it over there at the bench.
Star points to a bench where we see Cutie Helmet. He then grabs it and puts it on.
Cutiesaus Thanks Star Now we need a plan.
Star Butterfly Um would that involve these guys.
Star points to a group of humanoid creatures wearing black cloaks with hoodies and pale white masks.
Cutiesaurs Looks like the plan is to fight. (He pulls out his blue sword) It’s a good thing this sword is bound to me and no one else.
Star Butterfly I would like to help but that Wizard Bob just stole all my powers.
Cutiesaurs Except for the Sword of Mew
Star Butterfly I keep hearing that my Wand is a sword. How is this possible?
Cutiesaurs You must focus, be one with the wand and think of a burning blade.
Star focuses on it and her wand turns into a burning blade with rainbow fire. She then uses it to defeat Bob's minions.
Star Butterfly Wow this is incredible I didn’t know my wand could do that! How did you know!?
Cutiesaurs It’s a long story but we need a hiding spot and I know one. Follow me.
Cutie drags Star to a long forgotten cellar.
Star Butterfly Wow you sure know your way around the castle.
Cutiesaurs I like to walk around the castle patrolling it in my spare time and also reading books. Which is why I know that wand is a sword that is a key to one of the locks. Of a prison
Star Butterfly What Locks?
Cutiesaurs Let me explain. Long ago before you before me before the kingdom of Mewni before time. Three gods and three goddesses appear. They created the rift then they created time then they created the universe then gave life to them. They taught each creature in the multiverse how to care and love and respect one another. However for order there must be chaos and chaos took the form of Cataclysm. He corrupted everything the gods and goddess did, undoing their work. So they fought back; the battle lasted a thousand year with the records of the events being lost though a few survived. After Cataclysm was weakened the Gods and Goddess locked him up in a prison out of space and out of time. With their own swords. They then gave the six swords to six universe’s. The Sword of Retro, The Sword of the sea, the Sword of sweets, The Sword of reality, The Sword of the sun, finally the Sword of Mewni. They form the kingdoms around the swords. But sadly over time the kingdoms lost knowledge of their past and swords. Except for two. The Kingdom of the Sun saved knowledge of the past and the kingdom of Mewni kept their sword safe. Which is why that wand you have is important; it's the last known sword that prevents the unleashing of Cataclysm.
Star Butterfly Wow I didn’t know my wand was a sword. But it still doesn’t explain how Bob managed to steal my butterfly forum. With some strange magic power.
Cutiesaurs It’s called forum splitting.
Star Butterfly What?
Cutiesaurs Forum splitting it’s a spelical spell that splits someone with transformations and turns their transformation as a spirit. We used it to cure someone from their Werewolf forum.
Star Butterfly Oh. Because my butterfly forum is important to me.
Cutiesaurs I’m sure it is Star.
Cutiesaurus begins to leave Star behind.
Star Butterfly Where are you going Cutie?
Cutiesaurs To find my Empress.
Star Butterfly Don’t you mean queen.
Cutiesaurs They both mean the same thing.
Star Butterfly Okay you’ll do that while I find some help.
Star pulls up her scissors but when she tries to use them they begin to crack and then turn to dust.
Cutiesaurs By the way, scissors are useless in the kingdom of the sun.
Star Butterfly (talking to herself) Great, I can’t get to Mewni or Earth now. Those scissors are my only escape. But maybe Cutie knows another way.
Star races to Cutie
Star Butterfly Hey Cutie I was thinking we can team up to take down Bob.
Cutiesaurs I prefer to work by myself. But thanks for the advice.
Star Butterfly (with her puppy dog eyes) Please!
Cutiesaurs (staring blankly) Your puppy dog eyes have no effect on me. Now would you excuse me? I got a queen to save.
A Cutie walks away Star Butterfly gets a idea
Star Butterfly You said Bob is looking for the six magical swords.
Cutiesaurs And What are you getting at?
Star Butterfly Well we can do what I forget.
Cutiesaurs A barter?
Star Butterfly Yea a barter.
Cutiesaurs By getting the four other swords by doing a trade for the empress then we use our might together to defeat Bob and kill two birds with one stone! I’m such a genius.
Star Butterfly Yes you are so how are you planning on getting to the realms?
Cutiesaurs I have a ship. In an old hanger.
Star Butterfly But how do we get there?
Cutiesaurs Well I know the secret paths around this old castle.
Cutie pulls an old touch handle but discovers it’s the wrong one and then pulls the right one. Which reveals a path which Cutie enters and Star follows behind. It leads to a rusty hanger with a giant shiny red space ship with jet engine thrusters and a jet pilot cockpit.
Cutiesaurs Behold the Gummi ship the most advanced ship in the kingdom, well the only one since all are now scrap. It took me 13 yea… (Notice Star biting the ship) Star what are you doing!?
Star Butterfly You said it’s a Gummi ship and I thought it was made out of gummi’s.
Cutiesaurs I called it the Gummi ship because it looks like it’s made out of gummi. Not made of Gummi.
Star Butterfly Oh. But how would this old thing get us where we are going?
Cutiesaurs Well it takes us to the rift.
Star Butterfly The Rift!? What’s that?
Cutiesaurs It’s like a highway. Star Butterfly What’s that?
Cutiesaurs (I might be too smart for her) It’s where a group of car’s go very fast like a road.
Star Butterfly Oh like a shortcut?
Cutiesaurs (sarcastly) Yes, much like a shortcut. (sarcasm ends) Anyway The rift used to be how one person got from one realm to the other. It was the world that was between realms. However with the invention of technologies and how certain realms like our Kingdom of the sun here isolated themselves. The Rift was no longer used and ships were turned to scrap. Well before I came along and fixed this baby up. Let’s go inside and take a tour and start this baby up.
Cutie and Star enter’s the Gummi ship
Cutiesaurs This ship has everything we need for our trip. It has bed’s and a guest bed for passengers. (in case it was an overnight trip.) A dining room, A kitchen for cooking food, A fireplace. A bookshelf with books throughout the realms is my favorite and finally the cockpit with an autopilot so the captain can do other things and it has a comfy seat with cup holders. It has everything to make you feel right at home. Any questions?
Star Butterfly Yea where is the kitchen sink?
Cutiesaurus then bang his head on the controls
Cutiesaurs I knew I forgot something. I guess I add this on stuff to add to the ship along with weapons. So let’s start this ship up.
Star Butterfly By pressing the big red button. (Star looks for the big red button) where’s the big red button?
Cutiesaurs Yea I did not add one since I don’t want people to be tempted by pushing a big red button. And besides, I don't want to discard myself when I start up the ship. And besides that’s not how you start the ship. (Pulls out the keys) This is how you start the ship
Cutie inserts the keys while the hangar doors open and the ship hovers for a bit before bursting into speed and opening a hole to the rift. But not before Bob and his minions race to the hanger seeing them fly away. The camera fades while Bob quietly makes a grin on his face. The screen then pans to the Gummi ship flying across the rift. Inside Star and Cutie figured out what to do next.
Star Butterfly So um Cutie do you know where the swords are?
Cutiesaurs Well legends say that one of the Swords will reveal the next sword. And since your sword is the only known one I think we’ll start there.
Cutie leads Star to the Bottom of the ship
Cutiesarus This is the map room. Well the only one that functions since this is the only ship that can travel across the rift. Since I have that ship I will navigate our course to where the next sword is.
Star Butterfly How are you gonna to do that? Since you have the knowledge and I have magic.
Cutiesaurs Correct Star but I have an idea. If you cast magic on your wand then it should act like a beacon. That only the swords will hear pinpointing its location. Thus selecting the location and flying to grab it. Any questions?
Star Butterfly Yes, one. I didn’t know Bacon could do that.
Cutiesaurs (Talking to himself) Sometimes I wonder if my kind is too advanced for people who look like they didn’t pass the middle ages.
Cutiesaurs No it’s not. After this read my books. Just use your magic
Star Butterfly I’m gonna create puppies that shoot laser beams.
Cutiesaurs I was thinking of dynamite with a laser beam but your idea sounds fair enough. (Though I must give someone a box of puppies when we land. Because one puppy is enough for me to handle for me right now.

GPT-4o (“o” for “omni”) was announced a few hours ago by OpenAI, and although the announcement livestream is good, the real gold nuggets are in the 22 demo videos they posted on their channel.
I watched all of them, and here are the key takeaways and use cases we all should know. 👍🏻
A. The Ultimate Learning Partner
What is it? Give GPT-4o a view of the math problem you’re working on, or the objects you want to learn the language translation of, and it can teach you like no other tool can.
Why should you care? Imagine when you can hook up GPT-4o to something like the Meta Rayban glasses: then you can always have it teach you about whatever you are looking at. That can be a math problem, an object you want translated, a painting you want the history of, or a product that you want get the reviews of online. This single feature alone has incredibly many use-cases!
🔗 Video 7, Video 8
B. The Perfect Teams Meeting Assistant
What is it? Having an AI assistant during Teams meetings, whom you can talk to the same way you talk to your colleagues.
Why should you care? Their demo didn’t expound on the possibilities yet, but some of them can be…

• having the AI summarise the minutes and next steps from the meeting
• having the AI look up info in your company data and documentation pages (e.g. “what’s the sales from this month last year?”)
• having the AI work on data analysis problems with you (e.g. “create a chart showing sales over the past 5 years and report on trends”)

🔗 Video 5
C. Prepare for Interviews like Never Before
What is it? Have GPT-4o act like the company you’re interviewing for.
Why should you care? What’s changed is that the AI can now “see” you. So instead of just giving feedback on what you say, it can also give feedback on how you say it. Layer this on top of an AI avatar and maybe you can simulate the interview itself in the future?
🔗 Video 11
D. Your Personal Language Translator, wherever you go
What is it? Ask ChatGPT to translate between languages, and then speak normally.
Why should you care? Because of how conversational GPT-4o has become, the AI now helps not just with translating the words, but also the intonation of what you’re intending to say. Now pair this with GPT-enabled earphones in a few years, and you pretty much can understand any language (AirPods x ChatGPT, anyone?)
🔗 Video 3
E. Share Screen with your AI Coding Assistant
What is it? Share screen with your AI partner, and have them guide you through your work.
Why should you care? Now this is definitely something that will happen pretty soon. Being able to “share screen” to your AI assistant can help not just with coding, but even with other non-programmer tasks such as work in excel, powerpoint, etc.
🔗 Video 20
F. A future where AIs interact with each other
What is it? Two GPT-4o’s interacting with each other, that sounds indistinguishable from two people talking. (They even sang a song together!)
Why should you care? Well there’s a couple of use cases:

• can you imagine AI influencers talking to each other live on Tiktok? Layer this conversation with AI avatars and this will be a step beyond the artificial influencers you have today (e.g. the next level of @lilmiquela maybe?)
• can this be how “walled” AIs can work together in the future? example: Meta’s AI would only have access to facebook’s data, while Google’s AI would only have access to google’s - will the two AIs be able interact in a similar fashion to the demo, albeit behind-the-scenes?

🔗 Video 2
G. AI Caretaking?
What is it? Asking GPT-4o to "train” your pets
Why should you care? Given GPT-4o’s access to vision, can you now have AI personal trainers for your pets? Imagine being able to have it connect to a smart dog-treat dispenser, and have the AI use that to teach your dog new tricks!
🔗 Video 12
H. Brainstorm with two GPTs
What is it? The demo shows how you can talk to two GPT-4o’s at once
Why should you care? The demo video is centered around harmonizing singing for some reason, but I think the real use case is being able to brainstorm with two specific AI personalities at once:

• one’s a Devil’s Advocate, the other’s the Angel’s advocate?
• one provides the Pros (the Optimist), the other gives the Cons (the Pessimist)?
• maybe Disney can even give a future experience where you can talk to Joy and Sadness from the movie Inside Out? - that would be interesting!

🔗 Video 10
I. Accessibility for the Blind
What is it? Have GPT-4o look at your surroundings and describe it for you
Why should you care? Imagine sending it the visual feed from something like the Meta Rayban glasses, and your AI assistant can literally describe what you’re seeing, and help you navigate your surroundings like never before (e.g. “is what I’m holding a jar of peanut butter, or a jar of vegemite?”). This will definitely be a game-changer for how the visually impaired lives their daily lives.
🔗 Video 13
If this has been a tad bit insightful, I hope you can check out RoboNuggets where I originally shared this and other AI-related practical knowledge! (The links to the video demos are also there). My goal is not "AI daily news", as there's already too many of those, but instead share useful insights/knowledge for everyone to take full advantage of the new AI normal. Cheers! 🥚

It was so hard with the constant fighting and the fact we had just moved to a new city together and signed a lease. I just don’t care anymore. I’ll sublease or have her as a roommate but I will not let her take my happiness away like this. It got to a boiling point when she was ruining our vacation in LA and, once I snapped at her, there was a shift. We tried to have a decent day, but when someone goes so cold, it’s emptier than being alone. It’s hard to enjoy yourself. The last day of vacation I tried to keep myself happy and we actually had a good time together but at the end of the day she found something to get mad about (mind you what she got mad about was a slight thing compared to all the shit she put me through in the topic of what triggered her that night) and went cold again. Then today she’s been ice cold and barely, if at all, replying to me. I was in a good mood regardless because I decided to keep her misery away from my happiness. We went to the gym and she couldn’t have anything to do with me there. It’s like we weren’t a couple (this has been a fight in our relationship where I feel like she hides our relationship in public and she’s admitted to hiding it to her acquaintances in the past. We’ve even had fights recently about this happening at that same gym). I tried walking out next to her and she purposefully wouldn’t do it no matter how much I slowed down to walk together. I confronted her and of course she couldn’t listen to my feelings. Couldn’t even speak a single word. A wall would be more receptive than her. At one point she said it’s bc she didn’t want to talk to me all day. Then she finally said what I’ve been feeling with this crucial topic and just in general with the relationship: “I don’t care”. I want to be seen in public as a couple and she doesn’t want to and she doesn’t care how shitty it makes me feel. I couldn’t take it anymore at that point. I FINALLY LEFT. I feel a weird lack of emotions right now. It’s like this isn’t the outcome I wanted, nor how I wanted it to happen, but it was so necessary. She was a fucking zombie the last couple days and I SWEAR she was trying to bring my happiness down. I wanna let go of the anger I feel and I know with time that will go away. They have a way of making you feel so bad about yourself.

It is a man, old and scraggy. He wears a jacket that lays over the red plaid button shirt and blue jeans. He wears an old baseball cap and a pair of glasses. He yelled something to Dad, holding his hands up like he was pleading, although we couldn’t hear it over the truck engine. They talked, but we couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Hey, what are they saying”, I asked, while petting Matt’s hair, calming him. The old man then put his hands down and came close to Dad in a cautious way. They seem to start having some kind of conversation.
“I don’t really know, hopefully, something good”, Mom answered. They talked for a little while, with daylight beginning to disappear, giving us a sense of dread, and making me more worried about what weird creature was going to show up. Eventually, the old man turned and pointed toward what I think is the northeast. They then shook hands and walked back to their respective vehicles. “What’s going on”, Mom asked as Dad got into the truck.
“Well, our new friend here invited us to dinner at his farm”, Dad replied.
“Does he have supplies?”
“Well, he says has supplies for us to make the journey.”
“Should we even trust him? We just met h-”
“Relax, he’s just an old man, living alone at his farm, feeding his cows. What could go wrong”, Dad countered. The old man then entered the truck that was running and drove slowly, expecting us to follow him.
“Alrighty then, but we have to be cautious”, Mom said, with her suspicions of the old man. We then followed the old truck along the dark, frozen road. It just feels like something is going to show up along the road, but nothing happened. Matt did eventually stop crying, but he is still upset about the Joe escape thing.
“Where are we going”, Matt lamented, with the prior series of events in mind.
“I guess somebody is offering us dinner”, I answered.
“Why can’t we just go home?”
“It’s only going to be a stop, like a hotel. After that, we go to our new home, I guess”, I said, taking another look at Matt and cradling to comfort him. “It’s going to be okay.” I stared out into the darkness. I looked to the sky from the window and I faintly saw something in the clear, dark sky, lit up by the waning moon. They were brilliant, green auroras that defy the bright moon, dancing across the sky like ribbons in the wind. The truck eventually took a right-hand turn into another road, with us following suit. I can see a bright, orange light emerging from a patch of tree. When we passed by, it seemed it was a house, at a farm, burning in a massive flame.
“I guess those people aren’t so, uh, lucky”, Dad said, taking a quick look at it before looking at the road. Passing by, we went on and continued to follow the old man’s truck. We passed onto another intersection until he turned into a driveway to what I believe to be his farm. Going into the driveway, I can see an old house, along with a dilapidated farm further away, barely visible by the headlights. The old man parked by the house, where there were a few other trucks there. We parked alongside the truck and we got out into the cold, near-silent night.
“Welcome to sanctuary, where all are welcome”, the old man bellowed. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice. Matt was the last to get out of the truck, slowly and clumsily climbing out of the truck.
“What’s your name”, my Mom politely asked the old man.
“Oh, I guess your husband didn’t tell ya. My name is Steven, but you can call me Steve”, the old man said, with some crackling in his voice. “I am very proud to host a dinner for you and your family”, he continued. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Oh, my name is Janice”, Mom replied, quite pleased at his politeness.
“Hello, Janice, and what are their names”, Steven asked, pointing to me and Matt.
“That’s my daughter Kate and my son Matt”, Dad said to Mom.
“Oh, what wonderful names for a couple of beautiful children you have”, Steve grinned. “Come, it is dangerous out here.” We followed him to the house, which looked like it had seen better days. He entered through the double-set door, the first a solid door and a screen door behind. Entering the house, it smelled like what you’d expect, old man. Looking onto the floor is made of glossy wood and walls with cracks, likely caused by the earthquake. It is dark in there, lit by candlelight from many candles, yet it’s fairly warm here. I don’t know why we went into the house, but Dad was right, Steve is just a lonely, old man. Matter of fact, there seems to be nothing wrong here, other than the cracks in the walls. “Sorry, the power went out. Had to resort to the candles. I knew my wife would come in handy”, Steve explained as he took his coat off. “Oh, supper will be ready right away. Had to use the fireplace to cook. Also, can you take your boots off?” We took our boots and set them aside. We went into what seemed to be a living room, with dusty old-style furniture.
“So, where do we sit”, Mom asked.
“Oh, well, follow me”, Steve commanded, leading us to the dining room, with a long, wooden table and six wooden chairs, along with their corresponding old-fashioned plates, glasses and cutlery, lit up in the candlelight. We noticed that everything on the table was covered in a thin veil of dust. “My apologies, the recent shocks dropped a bit of dust on the table”, he explained as he noticed us looking at the plates and moved into another room nearby. “Take your seats if you like.” We all settled onto the chairs, and blew off our plates of the dust settled there.
“When will we eat”, Matt impatiently said.
“Once Steve comes out with the food”, Mom answered. Matt sat there with a tired look on his face. Dad seemed to be in a better mood than before and it looked like he wanted to start a conversation.
“Hey, should we talk about something”, Dad asked. I then see Steve with a bowl and a silver plate.
“Here we go, may not be much, but at least it’ll fulfil the soul”, Steve said, smiling when he served us mashed potatoes and meatloaf. “So, shall we pray?” That came unexpectedly, as we are not too religious, but we were in his house and gave us shelter and food.
“Sure, we can do that”, Mom said and we all bowed our heads and put our hands together. Steve cleared his throat
“Thank you, Lord, for this good food to feed the soul in these hard times. I shall pray, in the name of the Lord and Jesus Christ, that these hard times shall be over, so we can get on with our lives. Amen.” We raised our heads and grabbed whatever food there was onto our plates. “Oh, there’s no gravy, so we have to deal with bare potaters and meatloaf.”
“Oh, not to worry. Thank you for the food”, Dad thanked Steve. We began to eat the food once we got it sorted.
“So, what brings you here”, Steve asked.
“Well, there is an evacuation order in effect for this area, so we had to go to Regina”, Dad explained, with Steve taking in every word. “So, we came from Strasbourg, we tried going south towards Regina, but we hit an obstacle in the way and we had to take another route, leading us here.”
“And we encountered a few odd things along the way”, Mom added.
“Huh, interesting. What do you guys think is going on”, Steve inquired.
“By the things we saw, we have no idea. Dinosaurs, devil dogs, hell pigs, the whole deal. I shouldn’t forget the earthquake. They told us a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake”, Dad clarified to Steve.
“Hmm… is that so”, Steve wondered. “Wonder what I think is happening? The Rapture is happening. Do you know how the Bible tells us of the end times? Good people sent to be with God and his kingdom, the rest here to suffer the Hell unleashed by Satan.” By this point, he was beginning to rant, but we couldn't stop it as we all began to feel tired and powerless. “So, the Devil will send his demons in the form of these illusions so that they can torment the sinners. It is happening, it is-” Steve manically continued as I drew towards blackness and his voice becoming less coherent. My vision is now all black.
I saw those same lights, but more rapidly than before. I then emerged onto the same clear sky, but something felt different. I can smell something in the air. I can smell what seems to be chemicals in the air. Looking down, I was terrified. Dark, grey rock in the shape of ropes and folds, similar to those I saw of lava flows on a volcano in pictures. This went on as far as the eye could see. I can see no tree this time, just the cooled lava everywhere. I then walked, feeling every bump and crag. I thought I walked forever until I heard a rumbling sound and woke up.
I am in total darkness. It is cold and it smells like cow manure. I tried to move my hand, but it seemed to be bonded behind my back by a rope. I tried to move my feet, but they were also bound by rope to the legs I tried to speak, only to realise my mouth was agape by a cloth in my mouth. I heard shuffling nearby but I could not see. It was then shone in light when Steve entered the door, holding a candle, revealing all of us in the same situation. I then can see what we are in. We are in that same wooden dilapidated barn we saw earlier and seems to be more damaged than the house, wood creaking can be heard.
“These sedatives are more effective than I thought. Maybe I should use them more often”, Steve smoothly explained, like he’s some kind of agent and began pacing. “Wonder why you are here? Well, I wondered the same thing to myself, why didn’t God take me to his heaven? When I first heard of the government telling us of those evacuation plans, I thought it was that, a leaking pipe. I began to notice things I couldn’t believe myself, at least at first. Earthquakes, weird creatures showing up, people disappearing, the whole spiel. I connected the dots. The Rapture is happening, for sure, but why me? Why was I the one left here on this Earth”, Steve calmly ranted, pacing around the barn, but it seemed to sound crazier and angrier the more he paced. “I thought I had lost my way. I’ve been unfaithful to God and his son. But, I realised that God always has a plan and he left me on this Earth to serve a purpose. I wondered what my purpose was until I had a moment.” He then stopped in place and calmed down. He turned to look at Mom with accusing yet crazed eyes.
“I’m supposed to keep the sinners here in line, to earn a place in God’s kingdom, or suffer in Hell. I know you are a sweet woman, Janice, but your treachery with Satan is over and I am going to do what’s right.” Mom then looked at all of us, with assuring eyes like that of an innocent yet caring mother we all know knew. I began crying and trying to speak through the cloth, but I was helpless to watch by. “Forgive me, Father, for what I am going to do.” He then pulled a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Mom’s neck with no mercy. I looked away once he did that, trembling, with tears pouring out and my vision glazed and I fell limp. I could see my brother tearing up, but he did not look away. I can hear Dad behind me, with his screams of agony and anger covered by the cloth. It felt like I was in slow motion, taking in every moment.
I then heard the chair, screeching as Steve dragged the chair containing Mom’s lifeless body towards the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. I couldn’t bear to see my mother like this. I shut my eyes very hard and hoped it would go away. The door then shut, leaving us alone with a candle, fearing what would come next. I stared at the candle, seeing it dance in the flames like a woman dancing in the darkness. Is this how it’ll end, I thought. End up dying to this sick man? My Mom was killed in front of me. I sobbed with that thought, then I began to think about the inevitable death of me. I hope there’s something after I die. Maybe I’ll see Mom again.
It was silent for a while, nearly no sound other than our moans. Dad seems to be fidgeting at the back of his chair, rocking it slowly. Looking past him, I shuddered at the glistening pool of blood, where Mom was last alive, could be my fate. I then see Dad release his arms from the back of the chair and remove the cloth from his mouth. He silently stood up and bent down to untie his legs from the chair legs. He then went to me and removed my cloth.
“H-h-how did you do that”, I silently wept, fearing that Steve would show up at the door and kill us all.
“My binding is loose. The old man probably took a liking to me”, Dad whispered. “I should remove your binds.” He untied them, releasing me, doing the same for Matt. “Now, we need to be quiet.” We then walked, quietly, along the painfully creaking wood in the near dark, following the blood trail, glistening in the candlelight. We cringed and dreaded each sound we made and watched the door in case it began to creak open. A few silent steps later, we made it to the door and we slowly opened it so as not to make any noise. What was revealed to us is nothing new, other than the blood trail continuing in the snow directing towards the back of the barn. “Okay, Kate, Matt, you guys run to the truck.”
“What about you”, I sobbed.
“Don’t worry about me”, Dad responded, giving me his keys and forcing them into my hand. “If I’m not back in a few minutes, leave. Don’t look back, take care of your brother, okay? I love you, no matter what happens.” He then kissed me on the head and ran to follow the blood trail. We quickly walked towards the black truck, stranded there for maybe hours. Getting closer, freedom is getting closer. When we got to a fair distance to the truck, I heard footsteps behind me and, the next thing I knew, I was knocked over to the ground into the hard snow on my face. A hand turned me over to give me a glimpse of a crazed Steve, his eyes wilder than before.
“Oh, yes, trying to escape”, he bragged. I looked at him, frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights and he caressed my face with his bloodied blade. “You do have a pretty face, but I’m afraid you are just one of Satan's creations, made to pull me to lust.” He then raised his knife in the air when a familiar side emerged, out of the blue.
Joe came and bit him in the arm that was holding the knife. Steve screamed in agony the moment he realised what happened. He shook Joe off and stood up to stand his ground. I stood up as Joe hissed and walked around the crazed being he wounded, not in fear but in aggressiveness. “Is this one of your pets, demon”, Steve screamed as Joe came in for another attack, but Steve countered that with a slash to the snout. Joe then ran away, whining, into the darkness. This sequence of events gave me the chance to enter the truck on the driver’s side. I had some trouble starting it, besides this is my first time driving a truck.
Steve menacelily walked towards the when Dad came barreling and tackled him to the ground. Dad was on top when he went limp. I finally put the keys in the engine turned it on and backed out, with memory serving me the instructions on such a vehicle. Steve pushed Dad’s body and stood up, but by that time, we left the farm.
“Turn back, we have to get Dad”, Matt cried, but I was very emotional, accepting what happened. I felt that, without my parents, I feel… useless.
“Dad’s dead”, I screamed at Matt and he began gagging uncontrollably in tears. I began to feel sorry for him. “Sorry, I, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay”, Matt sniffled. “I guess Mom and Dad are dead anyways.” It was silence for a few more minutes, tears welling in our eyes.
“Hey, our parents are in a better place”, I said, trying to make the situation positive.
“But we are stuck here, without them? Don’t we deserve to go to a better place?”
“Don’t say that”, I huffed and I paused for a bit. “I know we are in the, uh, right place now. Let me tell you something, once we get to Regina, I will take care of you, no matter what life throws at us.”
“What about Joe”, Matt asked.
“He’ll be fine. He probably found his girlfriend already.”
“Hey, don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“I, uh, I don’t have one. That I know of”, I spoke, bringing me back to Sam, remembering that she’s the only friend that I ever knew, and I left her. Without her, I felt alone, no one would ever relate. I began to tear up. “I don’t have any friends. I am alone,” I sobbed.
“What do you mean? I’m your brother!” I looked at Matt, and smiled, happy that he acknowledged that we were in this together.
“Thank you”, I thanked him. I slowly stopped on the road, just to hug Matt hard, crying my eyes out. We then heard what sounded like an elephant in front of us. We looked up to see a walking snow-covered brown fur wall with four pillar-like legs in front of us. Its curved tusks gleaned in the light and the eyes reflected in the light. The furry trunk waved around like a searching snake from a tree. We both knew what it was.
“Hey, look at that, a woolly mammoth”, Matt said, excitement running through him. At this point, we weren’t surprised.
“Yep, that is a woolly mammoth”, I added. The mammoth turned to us on the road, seemingly confused about where it was. It looked at our truck and seemed to growl, like an elephant. We are starting to realise this thing is becoming aggressive.
“Uh, should we move”, Matt asked. I remembered hearing something about standing your ground in case of an encounter with an elephant. I hoped it would work for a bigger, furrier version of one.
“No, we have to stand our ground.”
“But, it’ll attack u-”
“Trust me!” I then honked my horn and it backed up. It then rushed, then stopped, a mock charge. Eventually, it moved out of the road, disappearing into the darkness. We sighed in relief.
“That was close”, Matt sighed. I then continued to drive in the night, headlights leading the way. The road is bumpy, as noticed by every ditch and peak we hit, but surprisingly, Matt was fast asleep. I began to get comfortable driving and used to the road by that point. It was silent for a while until we hit a smaller intersection. That is when the truck shut down, completely and stopped. I tried the gas many times but with no effect. There is no light, nothing. It is near-darkness here, shone only by the moonlight.
“Shit”, I yelled, desperate to turn the truck on without much success. Matt woke up, confused.
“What happened”, he yawned.
“The truck turned itself off. I can’t get it back on”, I fretted and at that moment, Matt was just as panicked as I am.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know. One moment, we were driving, another it just-”, I quavered, when I heard something rustle in the distance. We stood still, hoping whatever it was didn’t find us. I looked around, hoping to see something in the moonlight. I then see a long, walking animal. It looked like some sort of alligator at first, except for a dinosaur-like head. Once I strained my eyes to the darkness, my fear levels rose as I could see it walk on its hind limbs, with its forelimbs dangling nearly touching the ground.
It was wandering around on the road when I heard a near-crocodilian growl at Matt’s side of the truck. Another of those creatures appeared, seemingly looking into the window like a hungry bear, giving us a chance to see its scaly head. Its exposed alligator teeth gleaned in the light like knives, but more terrifying was the eye. Its serpentine pupil shone brilliantly in the light like eyes in the dark. It then ducked down, gave a hiss, and moved towards the other one. A few more showed up and formed a group.
“What should we do”, Matt asked. “Should we stay?” I looked around, hoping for another way to escape them without them noticing. I further strained my eyes and mentally mapped out the area. There is a cemetery on my right-hand side, a grain bin storage yard on my left and a series of trailers on the other side of the highway, which is ahead of us, from the storage area. There, I see a series of white, storage buildings, something we can go to and wait it out inside.
“Okay, so slowly open the door”, I instructed Matt. The click of the doors opening cringed us. We looked at the group, but there was no response from them. We then, as slowly as we could, opened the door and stepped out. Still no response. Matt then quietly ran to the other side, towards me. “Okay, we are going into the storage yard and go to the other entrance”, I said, pointing to the other right-hand corner. I wanted to get as far away from these things as possible before making a safe crossing. “Then, we cross the highway on the other side, run into the buildings and stay there for the night. Are you ready?”
“I guess”, he whispered, looking at me in fearful doubt.
“We are going to do this”, I whispered back. We then silently ran over, having to rely on our night-adapted eyes, to the corner, walking past the bins. We made it and nothing behind us so far. “We’re good so far.” We then crossed the road and noticed nothing. We noticed a tanker truck, leaking some sort of fluid across the road. I easily recognized it as fuel, based on its distinctive, sickly smell. I wouldn’t be worried about it if it weren’t for a collapsed light pole that is somehow still flickering with electricity near the area where the fuel would be flowing. We quickly avoided the fluid when I froze to see the group of the walking alligators, running towards us. “Run!” Matt tried to run, but one of those things appeared and clamped its jaws at the back of his neck. He yelped in pain and it took him down to the ground. “Matt”, I yelled, helplessly watching as the creature tore into him.
Matt reached out his arm before the others came to him, then a flash of fire came. At this point, I knew what happened, but I couldn’t even think before it exploded. It blew me towards the building, far away. I was knocked out for a few seconds before I regained consciousness, groaning in pain on the ice. I noticed something especially painful just below my chest. I reached towards the area with my hand. I pressed on it, more painful than ever and raised my hand, only to see blood, brightened by the fire. I realised I was wounded, maybe by shrapnel made by the explosion.
I looked toward where the truck was and all I saw was a blaze. Those things weren’t there, at least. I also noticed something else, too, there’s no Matt. I tried to look around for something, some sort of sign of my brother within the fire, but I saw none. I then wept, realising I had failed. I have failed to keep him safe. I have failed to give him a better life. I failed him as a sister. I could’ve done better. The thoughts poured in as tears glazed my eyes. At that moment, I failed to look around me.
I noticed a dark thing beside the blaze. I thought it was Matt, preparing to greet him back, even though I knew he couldn’t survive the explosion. The image became clearer and clearer as I noticed it was one of the walking crocs that, glazed by the fire, was coming towards me.
“Just kill me”, I screamed, preparing to painfully die to meet my maker. The creature was about to attack me when something large, silent as the wind, came charging and clamped down its massive jaws, filled with conical teeth on the hapless creature and raised it. The crocodile struggled before going limp with a crunch within its strong jaws. The big, dark and scaly monster that it is towered over me and is as long as a bus, possibly longer. Its large legs are a contradiction to its small arms that hide beneath its scarred, bulky body.
It turned to look at me with an oddly bird-like expression, revealing in the firelight numerous scars from battles I could never know and looked at me with its beady bird-like eyes, breathing out wisps from its nostrils like a dragon in the cool air. I recognized it as a creature I know too well, a T. Rex. I breathed heavily and sickly, looking at the thing, nearly expecting me to drop the body and go after me. Instead, it simply walked away, carrying its bloody prize with it, and steadily retreated into the darkness.
I then lay down in agonizing exhaustion on my back, thinking of the next step of action like I'm on a suicide mission I would never come back from. I looked in the direction of the graveyard and had one thought. I guess I am dying. a graveyard will do. I struggled to stand up, noticing my blood-soaked clothes and felt a broken left leg. I grasped my wound, limping step by step and enduring the sharp pain while shaking in the cold. Every step I took, I remembered all the memories, good or bad, that I had with my parents. My brother. My friends. My family. I eventually reached the cemetery and slouched at a tree.
“Guess I’m joining you, guys”, I said, speaking to the snow-covered gravestones, only to hear something. A familiar sound of chirping emerged and, lit by the blaze, it was a sight I can hope for. “Joe, what are you doing here”, I depressingly cheered as Joe went to me and curled up in my lap as if he were a cat. I noticed the new-found scar he had on his little snout, but I paid no mind as I petted him. “I guess you came back. Thank you so much for what you did”, I thanked him, not expecting such a loyal creature would be with me, comforting me, to the end, like what my mother used to do when I was a newborn. I heard another noise, this time a deep rumble.
I thought it was another earthquake coming, but it got louder the closer it got to me, becoming more animalistic only felt small vibrations I barely felt. Joe stayed put, oddly enough, as T. Rex, different from the first one, came. It walked towards us until it stopped short of us. It began to produce a low-pitched, bird-like purring, attracting Joe. I realised something, that this T. Rex is Joe’s parent. He joined the rest like him, whom they showed up and all chirped around.
The grown Rex then brought its snout closer to me, not to kill me, but to look at me. It did not reveal its teeth and was still purring. I put my hand out and its nose came close to it. It rubbed it against my hand and started to pet its cold, scaly skin as it breathed through its nose and put it on my chest. I rested my head on it before it pulled away. It gave out a hiss, but I knew it wasn’t that of a threat, but more of a thank you for bringing its small, sometimes immature, child home.
That gave me relief, as it felt like I at least did something for once. They walked away, along with Joe, towards the darkness amongst the gravestones in the cemetery. I glimpsed one last desperate look at Joe before walking beside his parent. I looked up at the sky and I could see all the stars, twinkling, and the dancing green auroras. I began to feel limp and felt the cold embrace of death coming over me, tears pouring out of my eyes. The sky then grew brighter and brighter, the stars faded into the light and I could see my family welcoming me to a new home. It then slowly went black, darker than a cave.
You would think this is the end of me. It wasn’t, or else I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I eventually woke up in a hospital in Regina. I was told I was rescued by a team that transported me while I was in a coma. The doctors said I was very lucky to be alive, as the shrapnel narrowly avoided my vital organs. After that, I was adopted into a new family, but I was only with them for a couple of years before finding a new job and moving out.
As for Sam, I don’t know what happened to her. I would like to think she is safe, somewhere else. As for my family, I think of them all the time. I was in a depressive period right after that. Eventually, over the years, I accepted that they were gone and went to a better place. For Joe, I would like to think he is all grown up, like his parents, and becoming the king of the jungle. I hope we meet again.
As for the evacuated area, it wasn’t some pipeline rupture that caused an evaluation, but an anomaly, with the exact reason not known. There are excuses for the claims of weird stuff going on in there, from disease to chemicals, to eventually a previously unknown geological event, but I saw through it all.
You may ask how, it's because I've been there. Take it or leave it, this is the story I have. As the decade came by, cover-ups were made to hide it, even walls were put around it. Since the incident, the exclusion zone grew from a mere 80 kilometers in diameter to 460 kilometers in diameter, emptying entire cities of the likes of Regina and Saskatoon. I had to move to North Battleford, by the recommendation from the same government covering it up, making me think that time will tell before the floodgates of truth open.
The anomaly didn’t have a name initially, however, over the years, everyone agreed on one name in particular: The Saskatchewan Anomaly.

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

I have a project where I will be installing TFL Fashionista melamine as wall paneling in someones home. I've done this with wood veneer panels and found that PL with reverse clamps worked well. I sometimes had to use the odd pin and hide it with fill. Just wondering if anyone who has done wall paneling with melamine or laminate panels would be willing to share some advice. What type of adhesive did you use? How did you fix them? Any tips or tricks would be greatly appreciated.

TW: PHYSICAL VIOLENCE
I had been abused since I was 8. I had many moments, years even, in my life that were good very good and many that were bad. I survived it all and I’m still suffering. I officially got away from the abuse at 22 years old and then my life went to shit. It was 2020 I had been living the best life I could. I transferred from community college to a university, made friends, made plans to move out, stable job, and I was hopeful. One summer day I went over to my dads brother’s house. My grown adult cousin pissed me off I said stfu he then went downstairs and started cry. He called his mom and told her she started pacing then took my mom outside. They both came back to get me I was then confronted. It was ridiculous and as i was trying to leaving my aunt grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me while pushing me to the wall. I started to push her off and that’s when she began to hit me and i hit back. I already had ptsd from my parents fighting me growing up. My mom jumped in the middle and I hit her until she gave up and let me go. She got pulled into the house my mom followed and I walked down the long gravel driveway. Half way down I hear ‘hey!’ I turn my head and see my dad running at me full force. He jumps on top of me and begins to punch me and hold me down. Trying to “restrain” me as he says but he won’t stop. I thought he was trying to kill me this time. I manage to break loose and ran towards the garage to hide and think even for a micro second. I lock him out and was planning a way out. All of a sudden him and my uncle come storming in I run to the door but they took me down. Again I am being punched, held down, choked. As I was being choked by uncle he says “this would be way worse if you weren’t a girl”. I get my leg out from under both of them and kick him in the face, get my other leg out, and run. Running down the long gravel driveway they jump me again. I again get out and start throwing rocks at them while digging through my purse to get my keys. I began to punch my dad with my keys in-between my fingers and he backs off. by this time my uncle on the phone with police yelling “she has a knife”. I run towards my car and as I’m trying to leave my dad takes one last lunge at me I pick up my metal water bottle and slam it to the back of his head. I speed to my parents house crying and hurt. I get there and destroy everything I could outside since my brother locked me out. The rest of the night doesn’t matter. Months later my car was t-boned and I got arrested for a warrant for felony domestic violence. I went to jail my father bailed me out just to use it against me. I see my car in their driveway and leave. My dad got me a lawyer so he could be the main line of connection. I go to me hearing and my case ended up going to trial in between then I was ordered to attend court mandated anger management classes. Found out my family was writing letters to the judges urging for me to be locked up. I still had my apartment but lost everything else. In between loosing everything I was tried and during the heart to heart with my lawyer right before I explained how I didn’t want this to affect my career of helping abuse survivors. While sitting outside the courtroom doors my uncle ran up to me saying he was going to fix everything as I was being shuffled threw the doorway. During the trial my lawyer paused and went up to the judge I think he told him about the volunteer work I did. I was let of with the highest misdemeanor you could have and a year of probation. It’s been four years almost and I have been miserable everyday. I’m making strides though. I just needed to type this out and get it off my chest. I will never be abused again.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.