Raised bumps on baby legs

i hate how everyone has a flat chest and is skinny, how they have perfect arms and perfect legs and a perfect hourglass body. i hate that they have nice hands and nice features. i hate the fact that they have a perfect nose and eyes and eyebrows and how they have no bumps and acne on their face or chest. i hate the fact that they have perfect, straight and long hair. i hate how everyone else around me is pretty and so perfect and when i look in the mirror i see an ugly person rather than a perfect girl. i hate my body, i hate my lips, eyes, nose, face, cheeks, curves, thighs, arms, and upper lip. i hate how my body has hair while everyone else waxes and stuff. i hate this.

I held the package close, its precious contents pressed against my spine. The steady beeps that communicated life drove my exhausted legs forward. Even with the combat stimulants running rampant through my blood, my nervous system bringing fibrous polymer muscles to their brink, and a set of assisting servos practically tripling my stride speed, I was exhausted. The sun and its rays bared down on me like a predatory dragon, each ray a fang made of flame, ready to tear open my suit and scorch my skin…but not today.
“Not today!”
I picked my stride up and sent every muscle in my body past overdrive, I tore stone and sand as I sprinted farther forward and collapsed. I had finally made it to one of the only rations of shade on the desolate moon surface. As I hit the ground and retreated into the shade, I removed the pack from my shoulders and gently laid the box down. I opened the zipper that held the sunshade on and looked at the pale figure inside.
“Hello my love, I hope you’re resting well, we finally made it, now just time to wait…and you'll be better again”
I took my helmet off and took a deep breath before beginning to set up camp. I thought back to the mission room, where I was nearly denied entry to Io
“You understand the journey you’re undertaking has never been completed before? This is a mission that as of this moment has a 100% rate of failure. Do you not think it would be wiser to simply say your goodbyes and prepare for a life without her?”
I shook my head as the council stared at me with tired expressions and pained eyes
“I am three times decorated am I not?”
The head minister nodded and shuffled her papers, reading slowly from the top page
“Argon Lethius, 12 tours, 7 rotations, 153 confirmed neutralizations, 3000 pending, strength record unmatched, augmentations class S granted. You’re also the sole surviving candidate of the sky petal program”
The sky petal program, an experimental research project I had taken part in to pay for my wedding. The core concept was simple: graft photovoltaic cells onto our skin and use nanotechnology to create a bio-mechanical ecosystem within the dermis.
The result was going to be humans capable of photosynthesis, making us less susceptible to nutrition based disaster. Rejection however was high in the program and when your body is trying to fight its skin, things get ugly quickly. A dormant gene I had passed on from my mother allowed my body to accept the prosthesis but at great cost, I was now essentially allergic to solar radiation. When I'm planetside I'm just fine, but if I was in an area devoid of atmosphere, the nanotech would go overkill, usually producing energy akin to solar flares from my skin.
“Mr. Lethius, your feats and skills are unmatched, your circumstances are impossible to reproduce and the dedication you’ve shown to this coalition has been unwavering. Which is why we sympathize with your loss, and grieve with you. Crystal was-”
I snapped at her
“Is…she’s still alive”
The minister nodded and corrected herself
“I'm sorry, Crystal is an incredible addition to this council, and we are deeply sorry both internally and externally. But the dragons of Io have no official record, and the sunlight alone could overcharge you in a day, leaving not only our best military asset but also his sick wife stranded without hope of rescue”
I nodded and spoke solemnly
“3 days supply, and a ship to drop me off, if I don't respond in 4 days, come get my body and bury her where we fall. She loves it there. Even if I can't save her, I want her to rest somewhere she would be happy”
I snapped back to the present and finished setting up camp. Unpacking our supplies and connecting a set of solar panels to her cryo-chamber. I watched her take deep breaths through the ventilator as I threw a tarp overhead and began digging into the rockface.
“You’ll be ok my love, by this time tomorrow you’ll be your old self again”
I dug for hours, tearing holes in my suit and flaying the skin from my fingers. As my blood hit the white dirt and stained the cracked surface, I felt a degree of nausea rise up from my stomach. Saliva filled my dry mouth and I bit down on my tongue to prevent the vomit. Bile reached the back of my throat and I dug my fingers into the dirt, searching for the Will to resist my body’s urges. The sun couldn’t take me, my mind couldn’t shake me, I would not buckle before saving her. Before long I couldn't go on, and I needed to rest.
I swallowed hard and sat back, laying down and looking up at the harsh sky.
“Hindsight is 20/20, we can keep trying new things but sometimes this is just how things work out, I’m sorry”
I nodded as the doctor left the room and she sat motionless in her gown.
“That guy didn’t know what he was talking about, there’s so many treatments, we’ll just go to another doctor”
She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and looked up at me
“I’m tired of my love, can we go home?”
I nodded without speaking and embraced her, feeling her slow and weakened heartbeat against my chest, its rhythm in sync with my own.
“Sure, We’ll go home”
That was the last time I saw her awake, she fell asleep on the car ride home…and never woke up. I was able to bring her to the hospital where they revived her, but she was comatose, most likely asleep till the cancer kills her.
“I’m sorry my love”
I looked over at her chamber before bringing my hand up to my face and staring at the mangled flesh of my palms.
“A drop of blood for a question, a thousand heartbeats for an answer”
I heard the voice in my head as if it was a thought I had formulated all on my own, but the voice was different, it didn’t belong to me nor anyone I had ever heard before.
“A single tear for a favor, an entire ocean for its completion”
I crawled to the spot where my blood had dripped into the ground, the sand was stained red but almost completely dry. I leaned over it and thought about my honeymoon, I thought about vacations and work, time together and apart, moments where she was everything. I thought about the idea of my life without her, and then it came like a flood. Tears flowed freely from my eyes and drenched the ground, the first falling square on the red stain in the sand. The liquid pooled on top and a small ribbon of crimson fluid flowed upward into the tear drop. The ribbon danced and waved in a thin line through the microscopic ocean.
“What is your question?”
The voice came from above me now, and as I slowly looked upward, a loomed overhead, blocking the sun from view, and causing my heart to skip a beat.
“What…is your question”
Before me now stood a massive beast, speaking in the voice I had heard in my mind and digging his gargantuan claws into the sand. The tip of each toe ended in a blade that was crystalline and almost translucent. Each blade too had a glowing orange stripe that when shifted, turned the sand underneath him to panes of glass. His arms were broad and powerful, covered in green scales and his maw hung open with a light blue mist emanating from his teeth. He was the dragon, the one from Io who space gods told legends about.
“I…I want to know something about my wife”
He knelt down on his two front arms and brought his eyes to my level, a kindness flowing between his seemingly infinite pupils.
“Your wife. She is a story I myself cannot seem to get over. What do you wish to know?”
I looked up at him and let out a deep breath before gesturing to her
“Can- can she be saved”
His gaze snapped to her case and he slowly moved over to where she slept
“You brought her with you, of course you did, you could never leave her behind.
I crawled over and knelt next to him, tears still flowing from my eyes.
“Please tell me, can she make it?”
He turned around and knelt next to me, putting a massive hand gently on my shoulder and speaking softly.
“My boy, She’s already made it, just not in the direction…you were hoping”
He tapped the monitor screen and it stopped showing vitals, instead displaying a digital sign in dark red letters. I read them aloud to myself.
“Subject deceased, time since last recorded activity. 37 hours 22 minutes 48-49 seconds”
He nodded and spoke calmly
“You wanted to badly for her to live, you saw her living, even when she wasn’t”
I slammed my hand on the crate and opened the lid, picking her up in my arms and putting my ear to her chest.
“Come on, come on. You’re ok, you’re ok”
I clutched her in my arms as silence arrived to my ears. I rocked her and cried into her soft silken hair. Her pale skin had lost its glimmer and I pressed my forehead against her own. I spoke through tears and a tightened throat
‘No, she cant die, I found you! I finally found you! Come on sweetheart you’re ok right? Just wake up. He's here baby we made it, please just wake up, please”
The dragon loomed over head and let out a deep breath, speaking gently, so as not to disturb the silence
“She is gone, and even I cannot save her”
I felt my skin begin flaming as I turned my head back up toward him
“Then what can you do? What can you do if you can’t bring her back to me? Why are you a legend if you cant make her breath again?!?”
He whispered softly into her ears and I felt the wind of the world around me change
“Because I can send you to her”
The planet fell silent and she disappeared along with the dragon. The camp was gone, my hand had been healed, my suit was gone and instead I wore a thin white shirt and loose cotton shorts. I was comfortable, and as I stood to my feet I felt as if my thirst had been quenched, my hunger satiated, I was…ok.
“Hello?”
I called to the emptiness, and before long a soft sullen voice spoke back.
“Hello darling”
She took my face in her hands and turned me around, holding my cheek as my whole body shook
“Hi beautiful”
I brought my hand up to her own and felt her soft warm skin against mine, I pressed my head into her hand and leapt forward, bringing her close and up into the air as I spun her around. She laughed as I gently set her down and wrapped my arms around her.
“I’m sorry you can’t stay”
I looked at her and spoke quickly
“What do you mean I can’t stay? The dragon sent me to you, he sent me to see you, so we can be together again”
She shook her head and kissed my softly, as she pulled away she put her hand on my chest
“It’s not your time hero, I’ll see you eventually, but this is goodbye for now”
I woke up on the sand, the dragon standing over me, holding her body as she began to slowly turn to dust. His tears fell on her degrading body as he handed her to me, and lowered his head.
“I'm sorry, it’s never permanent, did she tell you goodbye?”
I took a deep breath and held her in my arms before walking a few paces forward, and laying her down on the sand. I spoke calmly as tears streamed down my face.
“Yea…she did”
He nodded
“That is more than most get, was she smiling?’
I wiped my eyes and laughed
“Yea…she was”
He fluffed his wings and let the world around us grow heavy with winds
“Then your mission is complete”
I continued to cry as I looked back at him and spoke in a wavering tone
“Did you know I was a general?”
He strolled over and sat next to me, watching her particles flow away with the storm
“You were the most powerful general of all time, incapacitating but never killing, for a man with your rank one must usually commit vast atrocities but you…you never took one life”
I nodded and watched the wind whip and carry sand alongside her body
“I didn’t want to take life, I was reprimanded over and over but I always knew there was a better way, she wanted me to try, to make it so at every opportunity we could fight without ending lives…she hated senseless death…and I think I see why now”
He spoke calmly, wiping his eyes as the last of her bones turned to crystalline dust in the wind
“Her death was not senseless, in fact you'll find that when something as beautiful as her dies, it becomes impossible to make sense of it. That does not mean it happened without sense, and it does not mean her death must be for nothing. When men first meet me, they offer a drop of blood, and that is all I require for the question, but to gain my favor, they must give up a piece of themselves”
I sighed and looked up at him
“What do you need from me then?”
He gestured to where her body had sat moments ago
“You just let the biggest piece of yourself go without a fight. You have paid for more than enough trips to see her”
I nodded and spoke without waiver
“I'm not supposed to keep visiting her though, am I? She won’t be happy till we see eachother again permanently, and if I show up prematurely…she would probably be pissed. So ,I guess now I just live?”
He laid down in the sand and let out a deep groan
“I don’t think I’ve lived in quite some time, I’ve been stranded here for so long, evading capture to exist within my freedom, too afraid to face the cosmos again”
I patted his side and gripped what was essentially his ankle
“You shouldn’t be afraid, fear doesn’t do anything for men like us. Maybe we should sit a while, and see if your fear doesn’t go away”
He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, laying down as I watched the sun rise over the horizon. My heartbeat continued, but as I watched the last of her ashes swirl through the air, I found a modicum of peace, and I thought about her.

We live in residential area at the neck of a cricle of a sibdivision, cars general speed past even though theres alot of children about during the day. Anyway. Ok our dog who "never" goes out the front of the house. Snuck out with me when I took the garbage out about 9pm (was dark). I thought he went down a cpl houses, you can't really see as there's not a street light down there.
The kids were walking down to get him, calling his name a car turned down the road, as the dog was crossing the kids could see him in her headlights.. well he didn't make it, she didn't slow down at all i was behind them all i heard was what i thought the dog splattering in the road.
Well she was going so fast he bounced off her car, and smashed into the curb.. shattering his tibia and fibia(sp?). Kids screaming several neighbors came over sampson (dog) came running back on 3 leg. He laid down in the garage everyone immediately started looking up er vets.
She didn't stop, but she did come back. Said she wasn't paying attention it was her fault and offered to pay for all his injuries to fix him. Well was 1700 first night I pd. Surgery was quoted at 5100.00 we asked they offered 3000.00 secured the rest so he could have surgery through fundraising and such.
I have soo much going on right now, I work full time, school full time. My son just turned 18 last week we race mx every weekend. My mom's estate just got filed. Like just alot... it just dawned on me I can't go to any of the races as I can't put a crippled dog onto someone else.. like my whole summer is ruined being my son's last yr of racing, this bums me out.
I get mad like why am I begging for money when I didn't do it. Why am I making multiple 2 hr trips to the vet because of her negligence?
I messaged her all that pretty much and asked if she had any ideas maybe her car insurance would pay etc. Idk I'm just overloaded with shit right nowhe is a 100lb dog we had him home for a cpl days waiting for surgery and its not easy getting him in and out and babysitting his splint to not get wet.. baggiesnon his foot etc diapers on inside to not leak. Just alot.
She said we were hoping 3000 was enuff to help amd said take care!
So my quesrion is do i just deal with my stress load and max out my credit cards due to her negligence or run it through small claims?.
Am I at fault for the dog crossing the road? Or her for being on her phone? Cops weren't called, I can go make a report though and I have neighbors that she told she was texting too and would write a statement, they also heard her say she would pay for it all..
I just don't want to bring it to court and end up with a ticket, I mean I don't mind if I get a ticket but its her fault right? In the end...
I dont know what to do.. maybe the stress is getting to me amd I'm just being a baby with the 8-12 weeks of additional responsibilities I don't know anymore!
Thanks for any advice!

Together for 3 years.
We seem too have by this recurring argument by about him being jealous of my oldest son’s father. Today, I received a call from my son’s school about some trouble he got in with his classmate. I called his dad to inform him, which is something we always do in situations concerning our child. I always communicate matters with my son to his father and vice versa. We strictly discuss our son and nothing else whatsoever. There’s never any inappropriate interaction between my son’s dad and I. EVER. When the phone call was over, we continued the conversation through text. This must’ve rubbed my boyfriend the wrong way because his body language appeared tense all of a sudden. I asked him what was wrong and he responded that he didn’t like the fact that some of my passwords are my son’s name because he has the same name as his dad. I told him my passwords are just that, my CHILD’s name, not his dad’s. He seemingly got over it and we moved on.
Fast forward an hour later, he comes in the room and tells me he will text me later while he’s at band practice and that he wants me to respond back as fast as I responded to my son’s father earlier today. (He never texts me while he’s at band practice, he always calls after or I’ll just see him when he gets home) so I told him I’m not responding at all since he’s comparing himself to my oldest son’s dad again and only texting me just to see if I’ll respond in a certain time. This gets him even more upset and he begins raising his voice. I go to try and leave the room to avoid arguing and he blocks me from leaving and telling me I’m not leaving so I start yelling for him to move out of my way. My boyfriend is a huge guy (6’1 260 lbs) compared to my petite self (5’0 164 lbs). By this point, my 1 year old is crying and I’m trying to get to him. My boyfriend keeps pushing my hand every time I grab the doorknob and using his weight to keep the door from opening so I hit him in his shoulder (not hard at all, he probably barely felt it) and he hit me back wayyy harder and in my stomach! I’m currently 6 months pregnant. So I turned the other way and start to cry. Instead of apologizing, he starts to blame me saying it was a reflex because I hit him first and he didn’t mean to hit my stomach. He also said that he didn’t even hit me that hard which was false. He tries to grab me and I lash out in anger, hitting, yelling and kicking. When he finally let me leave the room, he follows me to the other room demanding we talk RIGHT NOW. I told him no and he proceeds to pull and yank me off of the bed to get me to go with him until I yelled at him to leave me alone. Our 1 year old is next to me while he’s doing this so he screams and cries for me to pick him up. I told my boyfriend he’s scaring the baby and he just keeps trying to take him from me so he can put him down and pull me out of the room. He eventually gave up and said I’m using our son as an excuse to avoid talking.
I’m just at a loss of words right now.

Welp, yea title says it all. Me 27F with my bf who is 31M He bought the ring 2 mo. After we found out I was pregnant. I was pretty embarrassed to not at least be engaged while pregnant so I made a comment about not wanting to be titled “bf/gf” while I’m showing and he treated it as if it was a “ no way. We will be engaged by then” type of deal. Fast forward… Our child is 3 months old now. So almost a year after him buying it and stashing it away. No ring. Just had a talk the other day about when we’re getting married and I’m asking if he regrets buying the ring or what? He says he doesn’t and he still wants to marry me and that it’s extremely important to him and his family for us to be married but i just haven’t shown him that I’m worthy enough for it basically. We’ve stated no matter the issues we have, we will work them out for the sake of our son not growing up without both parents the same way I did. I’m Confused why he even bought it in the first place. I know he has bought the ring , during our move I was clearing everything out and found it in his gym bag. Which he doesn’t know I know He said he was going to propose the day we went to the beach for my birthday but that he didn’t b/c I was too cold and wanted to head back to the car after a short amount of time. It’s all bs and I’m fully aware. feel that it’s just being used as a pawn over my head. I know he would tell me if he regretted buying it. He’s not afraid of telling me the hard truth. But it’s gotten to the point where I’ve said I’m not going to continue to do all these wifely duties and raise a child for someone who doesn’t even see me worthy of a ring. I feel like he’s ruined all of the excitement of an engagement for me by telling me he has it, but just doesn’t see me deserving of it yet. I will say that I’ve been pretty on edge with a new baby and I have not been my absolute best towards him but I don’t feel this is right. and I’m confused where to go at this point and i need advice. And not just “leave him” advice. It goes against my values but I’d be lying if i didn’t think about leaving frequently. I don’t want to have a broken family because I know how it feels and I love my son and know how important a father is for a boy. Anyways rant over. Don’t know what to do anymore.

It seems like she’s feeling insecure again. I keep my eyes shut tight, preparing myself for the song and dance I had been through so many times before. The weight of the bed shifts under me as she crawls under the blankets. A cold limb flops over my torso, wrapping me in a frigid embrace. I resist the urge to flinch as the moist, squishy mass of flesh presses into my forehead, a tickling droplet of fluid slides down my face and over my tightly pursed lips. Not daring to move, I waited patiently for the words I knew must come. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, a muffled teary voice sounds in a desperate tone:
“Do you...”
The voice falters, emitting several low-pitched, labored gurgles before continuing:
“Love me?”
Without hesitation I respond, as gently as could be managed:
“Of course I love you. But it’s time to go back to sleep now, okay?”
The gurgling continues, higher pitched now, like an excited baby. After a few moments the squishy mass detaches itself from my forehead, and the weight in the bed shifts. The gentle smacking of feet against hardwood floor, and a door quietly closing across the house resound in the otherwise silent room. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I rock gently back and forth with my head in between my legs, resisting the tears that are fighting to escape. I allow a few moments of this pointless self-pity before forcing myself to stand up.
I walk down the hallway to the bathroom, not allowing my eyes to stray to the door to what used to be my room. A look in the mirror reveals that my forehead has already started breaking out in small orange pustules, along with a small streak of them where the fluid had dripped down my face. At least it didn't get in my mouth this time. That isn’t a panic I would like to revisit. I retrieve the small bottle of vinegar from the medicine cabinet and apply it to a cotton ball, beginning the tedious task of treating my face. A harsher acid would probably do a better job, but I prefer to avoid the stinging even if the pustules disappear more slowly. It’s not like I need to look handsome for anyone. It’s unlikely she can even really see me.
Once my skin is sufficiently covered in the stuff, I grab a bucket and mop, and clean the wet footprints from the hallway, and from the living room where my bed is located. Most of the wood flooring throughout the house is already somewhat corroded, but I’d prefer to keep my home intact to the extent that I am able. Although it’s up to anyone’s guess what manner of hellscape the bedroom must look like. I hadn’t been in that room in a long time. That was her domain now, and there was no reason for me to enter. No reason to take that risk.
I light the small gas cooktop in the kitchen and get to work making food for the day. Canned food is surprisingly appetizing when there’s nothing to do but eat. It would taste better with some seasoning, but there was no point in going through that much effort. This food serves one purpose, and that’s to keep us from starving. I slide one plate under the crack between the floor and the bedroom door and sit down in the living room with the other plate in hand.
The book on the coffee table catches my eye as it does every morning. Sighing, I pick up the ratty collection of pages and flip to a random one. One of the few books on the “Great Plague” as they call it, that was ever published, or at least, the only one I could ever find. Titled “The End” by Jared Kramer, It was more of a fanatical opinion piece than a proper informative book, but Kramer at least provided a bit of information on the virus, how the transformation works, and what methods could be used to, in his words, “Cure” the afflicted. A shotgun was noted as the best medicine, with gasoline and matches being a close second. Near the middle of the book, the portion that was coincidentally staring back at me from the pages, it turned into a near unintelligible ranting on the philosophy of consciousness. Apparently, Kramer had only just begun to consider whether blowing the afflicted’s brains out was a morally reasonable decision. He had never come across as a particularly intelligent guy in his writings, and my assumption was that he was simply the only person who wrote fast enough to get a book published before the plague became a worldwide epidemic. Towards the end of the book, Kramer does a 180 and states repeatedly that “Accepting the transformation is the only road to salvation”.
“Salvation... as if”
My words perish in the empty air, a death rattle of frustrated skepticism.
I had never quite understood what that actually meant. Salvation would be something like deliverance from harm, harm being the only thing that the plague brought to the world. The book thuds as I carelessly toss it back on the table. It's obvious that the author was in the process of transforming as he wrote the final passages, but they never ceased to bother me. Perhaps I'm just fixating on those words as a way of keeping my mind occupied.
There’s really no reason to focus on such pointless things.
--------------------
The following night my sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted. She usually shows up once a week, if not less frequently. After waking, the bathroom mirror reveals that the pustules ha subsided slightly, leaving my skin smooth, if not free of the noticeable blemishes. A subtle glint of light shines off of my head and my heart rate accelerates.
Surely not.
Surely it was a trick of the light.
I begin rifling through my matted hair furiously and there it is. A single, silver hair hanging in front of my forehead.
I guess this is it then.
She made sure I had sworn on everything under the sun. Her stupid goofy smile reflected in my memory.
“First grey hair and I’m outta here mister”
To think that a silly little joke between us had turned into this solemn responsibility. The steel of the revolver was cold in my palm. My eyes locked onto it, unsure of when it had made its way from the drawer of the coffee table into my hand, or for that matter, when I had entered the living room. The earth seemed to be rotating at impossible speeds. Everything was black except for the gun in my hand and the book on the coffee table. That goddamn book. One of the pages had begun to tear away from the others, no doubt a result of my less than careful treatment of the thing, and a single word seemed to assault my fragile psyche.
Salvation.
I get it now
My heartbeat slows marginally as the unravelling of this book that I’ve read so many times presented a welcome distraction. There had been nothing left for Kramer, or anyone else for that matter, in a world that was dying around them. His salvation was freedom from the great plague. His call to “accept” the transformation, was not the same as giving in to it. After all, hadn’t he expressed over and over again exactly how to “find release” as he called it, from the infection.
Kramer, unlike me, had accepted that there was no life in transformation, no being, no humanity, and no way back. His moral dilemma had come to a close, likely with a bullet in his brain.
A reluctant chuckle rose through my chest and escaped my throat. It didn’t sound like me. It was twisted, choked, and raspy. She had always known hadn’t she, that I would stay in this house with her. That’s why she had forced me to swear up and down on something as silly and inevitable as a grey hair, before locking herself in that room five years ago. Knowing her, it had all been for my own good, a way for her to look out for me even after she was long gone.
The creak of the door was like nails on a chalkboard. I laid my eyes for the first time in years on my wife, or at least, what was left of her. I had seen the afflicted before, but seeing her in this state brought a blockage to my throat that nothing could have prepared me for. Her head had been obscured by the typical growth, characteristic of the great plague, A mass wider than her torso which was completely wrapped around her head, the loose flesh sagging down onto her shoulders. Large orange boils were dotted across this mass, as well as glistening, concave pits, where those boils had burst and left scars. The thick external vein structure wrapped around it was partially translucent, providing a window to the tar-like substance flowing slowly throughout. The worst thing, however, the thing that forced my tears out of my eyes and onto the corroded floor, was her body. Her clothes had long since disintegrated, leaving a sight that was fundamentally identical to what I remembered, with one exception. The excess weight of the mass upon her shoulder had atrophied her spine, which had crumpled, leaving her torso contorted in a grotesque fashion, the flesh and muscle folding in upon itself in places.
I had let this happen. I had as good as desecrated my wife’s corpse by leaving her in this state, by convincing myself that a cure would be found for a plague that had long-since been eradicated by other means. I did this.
My hands move as though without instruction from my brain, raising the revolver to my eye-level, pointing at the place where my wife’s head was concealed amid that horrid mass of flesh.
Her head tilted upwards slightly, as if she was looking at me with eyes that had been long-since obscured. That muffled, teary voice sounded out from amidst the heap weighing on her shoulders. Despite myself hesitated for just a moment, savoring the shadow of a voice that I would never hear again.
“Do you love me?”

“Beasts all over the shop…You’ll be one of them, sooner or later…”
The strange Hunter turned around and exhaled. His breath was visible against the night’s air.
He’s bloodlusted. Aegis, I hope you have a plan.
Shimmer saw Elpis step back slightly, with a shocked expression on her face. She shakily raised a claw and pointed at something on the ground.
No. It… it can’t be.
That’s… horrible.
A shattered red jeweled necklace lay strewn across the ground, beside the mangled corpse of the Silkwing.
The Hivewing in front of the three swung his axe to the side. As it was a trick weapon, he was able to change its form on command. The axe had two forms: a shortened form that acted sort of like a sword, and an extended form specialized in crowd control and reach.
He extended his axe and Shimmer heard a low snarl from his throat.
“Do we kill him?” Elpis asked, a hint of fear in her voice.
“We don't have a choice. Steel yourself.” Aegis muttered and brandished his silksabers. The blades gleamed in the soft light of the three moons.
The hunter was taller than all of them, one head taller than Aegis and two taller than Shimmer and Elpis. Black tattered robes clung to him, marking him a Shadowhunter. Blood from tonight’s hunt stained the black fabric, showcasing his expertise and experience in the hunt. He wore a rounded dark-gray hat, and bloodied bandages covered his eyes. Shimmer wondered if he could even see.
Corpses of both beasts and dragons were scattered about the square-shaped courtyard, an equal amount of gravestones breaking up the open space. His teeth were uneven as if he had been eating and chewing rough bones. Blood dripped from his mouth down his neck, and his Hivewing stingers flexed in anticipation.
“Be careful,” Aegis started, “He’s going to use magic. Elpis, don’t use any of yours.” He told the hybrid dragon beside him, and she nodded.
The hunter walked slowly around them, searching for a weakness in their structure, and then spat out a lump of coagulated blood.
“That stench of squalid blood. No beast will be spared.” He half-muttered and half-growled. He tipped his hat respectfully, before lunging at Elpis. She dove to the side, and tried to retaliate with her scythe, but just slightly missed.
This hunter was agile, surprisingly so considering how old he looked. Shimmer gripped the handle of her silkhammer, knowing it wasn’t the time to strike. She stepped backward, seeking cover behind a grave, while Aegis leaped forward with the intent to pierce the frenzied hunter’s heart. Once again, the hunter rolled to the side and sent his axe hurtling towards the smaller Silkwing. Shimmer felt fear grip her heart, but Aegis avoided the blade. He fell back and motioned for Elpis to stay back.
“A sporting hunt. But alas, I’ve forgotten to ask your name.” Aegis growled, and the hunter laughed a sick, disturbing laugh.
“The name’s Gascoigne.” He shot back, and jumped into the air, slamming his axe down where Aegis was a split second ago. Shimmer’s ears rung from the sound of the impact. Her antennae subconsciously curled in defensively.
“Gascoigne. That’s a nice name. I’ll tell Ludwig you were a proud hunter till the end.” Aegis replied and sent his twin blades slicing into the hunter’s thigh. He recoiled, and a gleeful laugh escaped his bloodied mouth.
“Hehe… the sweet stench of blood. Just… just marvelous!” He exclaimed and raised his off-talon towards Aegis.
“Aegis! Get down!” Shimmer called, and a burst of flame erupted from the hunter’s claws across the courtyard. The limited magic the Hivewing had that he was willing to use in this hunt.
Aegis fell back, hissing in pain as a few stray flames singed his tail. The hunter chuckled under his breath, and Elpis took advantage of the opening he had presented her. She thrust the blade of her scythe toward him, opting for its sword form as of now, and the hunter knocked the blow aside. He countered with a kick to the Ice-Hivewing’s ribs, and she was sent to the ground. She coughed up a spurt of blue Icewing blood, and the hunter lifted his axe for a finishing blow.
Shimmer roared out and swung her hammer toward the hunter. The silk connected it to her wrists as it flew through the air, and it hit the hunter square in his side just as his axe was falling. He was sent into the opposite side of the courtyard, coughing and sputtering, but with a faint smirk on his face. Shimmer was in disbelief; how was he not dead?
“Ooh, what’s that smell… the sweet blood, ooh, it sings to me! It's enough to make a dragon sick.” Gascoigne laughed hollowly. He raised his talon, and Shimmer quickly rolled to the side as a ball of flame soared past her horns.
He’s going to turn at this rate.
Shimmer hid under a gravestone as a tree behind her erupted in flames, and Aegis jumped into the air. He beat his four wings ferociously before diving into the hunter. He caught both of Aegis’ horns, and he twisted his head. Aegis fell to the ground, and Gascoigne slashed his axe down across the Silkwing’s leg. Aegis cried out, and Shimmer’s heart ached. She pushed herself up, ignoring the raging fire around her, and she threw her hammer up in the air and aimed it towards the hunter. He narrowly evaded the heavy impact of the stone before Shimmer heard a metal clang behind her.
Elpis, scythe in one talon, approached Gascoigne. She had the little music box in her other.
Elpis played the music box and a song of eerie notes filled the courtyard.
The hunter stumbled back, clawing at his face, and Elpis shot Shimmer a look, her face telling her to make sure Aegis was okay.
Elpis advanced on the struggling hunter, and Shimmer leaped over to her Silkwing partner, who was injured on the ground. She felt tears welling in her eyes, but she knew this wasn’t the time to cry.
“Aegis. Look at me. Look at me.” She repeated, and he lifted his head weakly. His leg had a massive gash in it, but he could probably still walk, just with a limp.
“Ah, Shimmer. I’m alright. I’ll be back in the fight. Go, help Elpis. I’ll join back soon enough.” He groaned, and the pair heard a roar behind them.
Elpis was locked in a duel with Gascoigne, and the hunter’s stray fireballs met with blasts of frostbreath. For the first time in the battle, the hunter had a slight look of fear on his face. Elpis was relentless, her burial blade swiftly countering and stopping any attempt Gascoigne made at advancing. Aegis crawled back and attempted to stand, using a grave for support.
“Shimmer! I can’t hold him for long!” Elpis called, and Shimmer nodded. She took the hammer in her claws and swung it around her side, and in a clockwise circle in the air. It was the perfect counterweight to her body weight. She hoisted it up further into the air and then brought it crashing down onto the hunter.
It struck Gascoigne directly on the spine, and he fell to the ground.
He screamed in pain.
And then, a bright light flashed from his body.
His screams deepened in tone, morphing to be more animalistic. His posture fell forward, and his muscles rippled through his body. He grew in size, and more of his bloodied garb ripped from the size change.
Fur sprouted from seemingly random places on the Hivewing’s body, and his claws extended. His face shifted, his features becoming more and more distorted. His black hat fell to the ground.
The bandages around his eyes stayed, as well as the black-tattered garb that marked him as once a Hunter.
He was no longer a Hunter. Moons above, he wasn’t even a dragon anymore.
He was now a beast.
Shimmer’s heart pounded in her chest. She stared at the transformation for a split second, before reeling in her hammer. She took it in her right talon and dove behind a gravestone, wary of the spreading flames.
Elpis, on the other claw, held her blade in front of her. Shimmer heard a rasping cough escape the Ice-HiveWing’s throat, but she didn’t break her stance.
The beast that was once Gascoigne whipped around toward Elpis, and launched himself at her, with a ferocity Shimmer had never seen even in beasts.
Elpis sidestepped quickly. The beast slammed into the wall with a loud roar, and Shimmer spied Aegis in her peripheral vision struggling to stand. He winced as he stood on his injured leg, but didn’t cry out. He brandished his two blades as the beast charged at him.
“Aegis!” Shimmer cried.
He’s going to get hit. That beast will kill him.
Aegis ignored her, and as soon as the beast was within a wingspan from him he twisted his body in such a way that he narrowly avoided the savage charge. He elegantly sliced his twin blades across the beast’s hide, and the creature howled before rapidly turning to face him.
Shimmer flew into the air. “Get away from him!” She yelled before bringing the weight of her hammer down on the beast. It flattened part of his ribcage, but it seemed impervious to the pain. It did knock him to the ground, though, giving Aegis a moment to cut through what was once two of the hunter’s wings.
The beast quickly got back on its claws before sending a flurry of swipes towards Shimmer. She dodged to the side and readied her hammer for another strike.
That was before the beast kicked her square in her chest, its sharp, ravenous claws digging in and tearing her scales. Shimmer fell back, a slight gasp escaping her mouth, and she stumbled back into the wall. She lost her footing and fell to the ground, and gazed up at the beast locked on her.
“Aegis! Help!” She yelled, and not even a second later her Silkwing partner crashed into the beast. They fell to the ground, grappling with each other before Shimmer heard a familiar song fill the courtyard.
Elpis was cranking the music box, its ominous lullaby breaking up the noise of the fight. The beast stopped attacking Aegis and instead clawed at its face. It growled and screamed in pain, drawing blood from its very own fur and scales.
“Now! Kill it!” She yelled through the song, and Aegis nodded before driving his two blades through the beast’s skull.
They stuck, and the beast roared before throwing him off. It crawled and thrashed about on the ground, clearly not dead, and the two new blades stuck to his head pointed out like new horns.
Now’s my chance.
Shimmer stumbled to her claws and wound her hammer up into the air. With every last bit of her strength, she brought it down on the flailing beast.
It crushed what was left of the hunter.
Silence filled the courtyard, only broken by a few stray notes from the music box, the pained breathing of the three hunters in the area, and the howls and screams from other places in the Hive.
Shimmer breathed a sigh of relief, before collapsing.
I did it. We did it.
Gascoigne was free.
…
“I brought you water.”
Shimmer opened her eyes and found herself in her familiar hospital room.
The morning sun’s rays lit the room, and Shimmer felt very little pain from her chest.
It had been three days since that night.
Shimmer fixed her gaze on the purple-orange Silkwing sitting beside her and smiled.
“Thanks. I’m feeling much better, we should get going to Bloodworm soon. It’s today, remember?” Shimmer asked, and he nodded. Of course, he remembered.
The summons for every hunter to come to Bloodworm Hive. Ludwig, The Holy Blade had requested them all. He no doubt planned an attack. A shame really, the hive was only newly rebuilt. And now it was going to be the site of a horrid, savage warzone.
“I remember. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Ludwig would understand if you couldn’t come,” Aegis asked, and she spied a hint of worry on his face.
“I’m fine. I need to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. I’ll come.” She sighed and took a sip from the canteen that Aegis had brought. It tasted wonderful, he had put something in to flavor it.
“Honeydew?” She guessed, and Aegis smiled.
“Yep. It’s your favorite, right?” He asked, and she nodded. She opened her arms, and he hugged her tight.
“I love you,” Shimmer whispered in his ear.
“I love you too. I pray to Clearsight that we’ll both be safe today. I can’t bear to lose you.” Aegis replied. He pulled away and gazed out the window.
Shimmer quickly drank the rest of the honeydew-flavored water before getting out of bed. She joined him at the window and was slightly surprised by what she saw.
Almost all of the hunters of Jewel Hive were preparing, some of them already flying in the direction of Bloodworm. They were all sharpening their trick weapons, mixing poisons, or saying goodbye to loved ones.
“We should get going. It’ll be midmorning when we get there, I don’t want to be late.” Shimmer suggested, and Aegis put a wing around her.
“Now? I need to get my stuff, and you do too. Join me at the workshop.” He asked, and she slid her head in the curve of his neck as he led her out of her sick room.
…
Shimmer beat her wings strong and fast against the morning savanna winds.
She saw what looked to be several hundred, maybe even a thousand dragons gathered around a hill. All of them had a colored garb fluttering proudly from their neck. Around ninety percent of the garbs were white, and the rest were black.
They were all different tribes and a fair amount of hybrids were scattered about as well. The gathered hunters were mostly Pantalan, but a good few were from Pyrrhia as well.
Shimmer and Aegis landed a short distance away from the hill, and all around them the sounds of dragons conversing and laughing with each other.
The sun was high in the sky, but it wasn’t quite noon yet.
“You see anyone you recognize?” Aegis asked, and Shimmer shook her head.
“There’s too many dragons here. It’s too much.” She whimpered, and Aegis pulled her close. He knew she didn’t do well in crowds. That was partly why she became a Shadowhunter. To work alone or with no more than a few other dragons.
“You’re safe with me.” He comforted her, and she leaned against him.
She had always hated being with a lot of other dragons. Aegis said it sounded like she had anxiety, which made sense. It didn’t do much to alleviate that fear, though.
None of them are thinking about you. They’re all busy with their own stuff.
Just take deep breaths.
“Do you want to move away? There’s fewer dragons over there,” He asked and pointed a claw across from them.
“…No, no I’m fine.” She whispered, and Aegis sighed.
“Alright. If you want to move, don’t be afraid to ask. I don’t mind it.”
Shimmer shook her head quickly, before the pair heard a loud voice from the top of the hill. They both looked up and saw the legendary hunter himself: Ludwig.
The menacing Nightwing stood proudly, his holy silver sword slung across his shoulder. His partner Memoria stood beside him, her tail twined around his. She had a bored look on her face as she stared at the crowd. The voices of the dragons fell silent, and Shimmer felt like she could breathe again.
The Nightwing’s loud voice echoed through the plain. “Dear Hunters.” He paused, his heroic voice inspiring pride and triumph in Shimmer, even though he had barely started.
“I’m sure all of you know why we’re here. Behind me, Bloodworm Hive stands proud against the horizon. Yet I am more than certain you all know what lies inside.” He paused and pointed his sword toward the dark shape of the Hive.
“Beasts. A few thousand. I think it’s time we put them out of their misery. That is why we are here. A battle of the ages, one that will go down in history. We, the brave heroes, fighting against evil. We will be reveled, we will be honored. We will protect the dragons we hold dear to our hearts, and save those we can yet save.” His speech roused the crowd, and Shimmer felt herself stand a little taller.
“The plan is simple. The Hunters of the Sun will lead the charge from the front. I have already talked to the leaders of the charge. The Shadowhunters will pick the stray beasts off from behind. We will attack at dusk when half the sun is hidden from the eye.” He gestured with his sword at the rising sun, and he extended his wings. His massive wingspan seemed to fill the sky, and Shimmer's heart swelled with pride.
He held his sword up to the heavens, and it transformed. It grew larger, into the shape of a claymore, and it turned a shade of sacred jade. It glowed with an otherworldly light, and the crowd was enamored by the display.
“Now, hunters. Spend the rest of today preparing. The hunt is on tonight. Ludwig, The Holy Blade will be with all of you in spirit.” He bellowed, and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.
Shimmer saw a proud, triumphant look in Aegis’ eyes, and she felt the same. Ludwig’s blade captivated her. The blade of legend, inspiring all who lay eyes on it.
Ludwig would be with them tonight. The best, the greatest, the strongest hunter ever.
Tonight, the hunters would not know defeat.
Nor would they ever, with Ludwig alive and at their side.
May the good blood guide your way,
Ultima_8

It seems like she’s feeling insecure again. I keep my eyes shut tight, preparing myself for the song and dance I had been through so many times before. The weight of the bed shifts under me as she crawls under the blankets. A cold limb flops over my torso, wrapping me in a frigid embrace. I resist the urge to flinch as the moist, squishy mass of flesh presses into my forehead, a tickling droplet of fluid slides down my face and over my tightly pursed lips. Not daring to move, I waited patiently for the words I knew must come. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, a muffled teary voice sounds in a desperate tone:
“Do you...”
The voice falters, emitting several low-pitched, labored gurgles before continuing:
“Love me?”
Without hesitation I respond, as gently as could be managed:
“Of course I love you. But it’s time to go back to sleep now, okay?”
The gurgling continues, higher pitched now, like an excited baby. After a few moments the squishy mass detaches itself from my forehead, and the weight in the bed shifts. The gentle smacking of feet against hardwood floor, and a door quietly closing across the house resound in the otherwise silent room. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I rock gently back and forth with my head in between my legs, resisting the tears that are fighting to escape. I allow a few moments of this pointless self-pity before forcing myself to stand up.
I walk down the hallway to the bathroom, not allowing my eyes to stray to the door to what used to be my room. A look in the mirror reveals that my forehead has already started breaking out in small orange pustules, along with a small streak of them where the fluid had dripped down my face. At least it didn't get in my mouth this time. That isn’t a panic I would like to revisit. I retrieve the small bottle of vinegar from the medicine cabinet and apply it to a cotton ball, beginning the tedious task of treating my face. A harsher acid would probably do a better job, but I prefer to avoid the stinging even if the pustules disappear more slowly. It’s not like I need to look handsome for anyone. It’s unlikely she can even really see me.
Once my skin is sufficiently covered in the stuff, I grab a bucket and mop, and clean the wet footprints from the hallway, and from the living room where my bed is located. Most of the wood flooring throughout the house is already somewhat corroded, but I’d prefer to keep my home intact to the extent that I am able. Although it’s up to anyone’s guess what manner of hellscape the bedroom must look like. I hadn’t been in that room in a long time. That was her domain now, and there was no reason for me to enter. No reason to take that risk.
I light the small gas cooktop in the kitchen and get to work making food for the day. Canned food is surprisingly appetizing when there’s nothing to do but eat. It would taste better with some seasoning, but there was no point in going through that much effort. This food serves one purpose, and that’s to keep us from starving. I slide one plate under the crack between the floor and the bedroom door and sit down in the living room with the other plate in hand.
The book on the coffee table catches my eye as it does every morning. Sighing, I pick up the ratty collection of pages and flip to a random one. One of the few books on the “Great Plague” as they call it, that was ever published, or at least, the only one I could ever find. Titled “The End” by Jared Kramer, It was more of a fanatical opinion piece than a proper informative book, but Kramer at least provided a bit of information on the virus, how the transformation works, and what methods could be used to, in his words, “Cure” the afflicted. A shotgun was noted as the best medicine, with gasoline and matches being a close second. Near the middle of the book, the portion that was coincidentally staring back at me from the pages, it turned into a near unintelligible ranting on the philosophy of consciousness. Apparently, Kramer had only just begun to consider whether blowing the afflicted’s brains out was a morally reasonable decision. He had never come across as a particularly intelligent guy in his writings, and my assumption was that he was simply the only person who wrote fast enough to get a book published before the plague became a worldwide epidemic. Towards the end of the book, Kramer does a 180 and states repeatedly that “Accepting the transformation is the only road to salvation”.
“Salvation... as if”
My words perish in the empty air, a death rattle of frustrated skepticism.
I had never quite understood what that actually meant. Salvation would be something like deliverance from harm, harm being the only thing that the plague brought to the world. The book thuds as I carelessly toss it back on the table. It's obvious that the author was in the process of transforming as he wrote the final passages, but they never ceased to bother me. Perhaps I'm just fixating on those words as a way of keeping my mind occupied.
There’s really no reason to focus on such pointless things.
--------------------
The following night my sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted. She usually shows up once a week, if not less frequently. After waking, the bathroom mirror reveals that the pustules ha subsided slightly, leaving my skin smooth, if not free of the noticeable blemishes. A subtle glint of light shines off of my head and my heart rate accelerates.
Surely not.
Surely it was a trick of the light.
I begin rifling through my matted hair furiously and there it is. A single, silver hair hanging in front of my forehead.
I guess this is it then.
She made sure I had sworn on everything under the sun. Her stupid goofy smile reflected in my memory.
“First grey hair and I’m outta here mister”
To think that a silly little joke between us had turned into this solemn responsibility. The steel of the revolver was cold in my palm. My eyes locked onto it, unsure of when it had made its way from the drawer of the coffee table into my hand, or for that matter, when I had entered the living room. The earth seemed to be rotating at impossible speeds. Everything was black except for the gun in my hand and the book on the coffee table. That goddamn book. One of the pages had begun to tear away from the others, no doubt a result of my less than careful treatment of the thing, and a single word seemed to assault my fragile psyche.
Salvation.
I get it now
My heartbeat slows marginally as the unravelling of this book that I’ve read so many times presented a welcome distraction. There had been nothing left for Kramer, or anyone else for that matter, in a world that was dying around them. His salvation was freedom from the great plague. His call to “accept” the transformation, was not the same as giving in to it. After all, hadn’t he expressed over and over again exactly how to “find release” as he called it, from the infection.
Kramer, unlike me, had accepted that there was no life in transformation, no being, no humanity, and no way back. His moral dilemma had come to a close, likely with a bullet in his brain.
A reluctant chuckle rose through my chest and escaped my throat. It didn’t sound like me. It was twisted, choked, and raspy. She had always known hadn’t she, that I would stay in this house with her. That’s why she had forced me to swear up and down on something as silly and inevitable as a grey hair, before locking herself in that room five years ago. Knowing her, it had all been for my own good, a way for her to look out for me even after she was long gone.
The creak of the door was like nails on a chalkboard. I laid my eyes for the first time in years on my wife, or at least, what was left of her. I had seen the afflicted before, but seeing her in this state brought a blockage to my throat that nothing could have prepared me for. Her head had been obscured by the typical growth, characteristic of the great plague, A mass wider than her torso which was completely wrapped around her head, the loose flesh sagging down onto her shoulders. Large orange boils were dotted across this mass, as well as glistening, concave pits, where those boils had burst and left scars. The thick external vein structure wrapped around it was partially translucent, providing a window to the tar-like substance flowing slowly throughout. The worst thing, however, the thing that forced my tears out of my eyes and onto the corroded floor, was her body. Her clothes had long since disintegrated, leaving a sight that was fundamentally identical to what I remembered, with one exception. The excess weight of the mass upon her shoulder had atrophied her spine, which had crumpled, leaving her torso contorted in a grotesque fashion, the flesh and muscle folding in upon itself in places.
I had let this happen. I had as good as desecrated my wife’s corpse by leaving her in this state, by convincing myself that a cure would be found for a plague that had long-since been eradicated by other means. I did this.
My hands move as though without instruction from my brain, raising the revolver to my eye-level, pointing at the place where my wife’s head was concealed amid that horrid mass of flesh.
Her head tilted upwards slightly, as if she was looking at me with eyes that had been long-since obscured. That muffled, teary voice sounded out from amidst the heap weighing on her shoulders. Despite myself hesitated for just a moment, savoring the shadow of a voice that I would never hear again.
“Do you love me?”

Sharay your life would be so much better if you left David. Please tell me what does he do that makes the quality of not just your life but your children's life better. I saw on a another post that you turned down shelter today because they wouldn't accept David. But just last night you said you would take the offer. Tell us why your codependency on him is more than love of your children that are born and unborn. He in all honesty is pimping you and your gladly accepting it. I know you've seen on TT about the lady who surrendered her children to CPS. Sharay since your happy with the life your living with David Please give Papa, Mimi, and the unborn babies a chance at life and let someone else raise them since your sole priority is David. Think about you both will have the freedom to do what you want

This is what they texted me after all that happened.
This is the message i got today, in his mom who is my mil and fil and her (my SIL) defense.
My MIL suggested to kill my unborn planned child, everybody in their family disrespected me. If you guys can, please look at my last thread on this forum. You will know the whole story behind this text. What do you guys think? Here is the message:
Hey xxx, I really tried my best to be friends with you and understand where your coming from but now I have to let you know that I cant believe you are causing so much disruption in my family. You are married in... your not even someone we have to love or get along with. In the beginning You disrespected our ENTIRE family. Who gets married randomly with no type of blessings from my family and then surprises the family with "This is my Wife" You are not even a child.. your a character who doesn't know its place or role in this story called life yet. Your very narcissistic, inconsiderate, and just plain ignorant to do this to a family better yet a child. A woman knows a child is gonna grow up and have questions about his family. So your not gonna be woman enough to answer those questions to leave him guessing... or you will probably lie and tell him how horrible we are when we did absolutely nothing that can cause my brother and baby to be separated from us for ever. We love him and wanna be able to have him grow up with us, You need to get your life together not for you but for the baby. Again We care for him and we love him, our issues have nothing to do with baby, for us not to see him, get to help raise him, introduce him as he is growing up to his only aunt and grandma and grandpa around is so childish. There is no reason what so ever for this behaviour, he is just a child who needs to be loved and cherished by his family who wish him nothing but the best. So im gonna leave you with a choice. Do you want to be a woman and give my nephew the opportunity to be loved by the entire family. Or be a child and think its all about you and keep him and my brother completely away from us. Knowing in the end baby is gonna have questions, so the choice is yours. Once again our issues have nothing to do with him. If you can be okay with that type of life, its going to be really hard for the both of yall.

Once I was diagnosed with Crohns my doctor had me start on Humira. I took it every two weeks for over two years. My insurance got me to switch to Yuflyma. I’ve been taking it for 2 months now and am liking it so far as it hurts so much less than Humira, although I do have some things I want to see if anyone else is experiencing:
Out of the 4 injections I’ve done with Yuflyma 2 of them the medicine didn’t go in when I did the shot. So i had to get a second needle out to do it. Obviously I let the company know and stuff but has anyone else had this happen? I thought the first time was a one off but then it happened again.
Also with Humira you are told to squeeze the fat on your stomach or inner thigh to do the needles. When i first started i did the thigh but then got comfortable with the stomach so i haven’t done my legs for 2 years now. I’m starting to get paranoid that by constantly doing injections in my stomach (even though I rotate sides and never try to do the same spot) it’s going to start leaving marks or making my stomach have bumps. So I went to do my thigh today with Yuflyma but it says not to squeeze the fat and do the front of your leg not the side which is what i did but I found it hurt a lot.
Hopefully this is a good spot to post this, I don’t really have anyone to talk to about it that understands. Thanks!

I am 31+4 and was diagnosed with gestational hypertension (no pre-eclampsia) last week. This has meant that I have had a couple of ultrasounds which have confirmed that my very stubborn kid is still transverse or breech (depending on the day) and has her legs straight up by her face.
I know that I typically wouldn’t need to worry too much about breech position at 32 weeks, but with an induction at 37 weeks fast approaching I am getting nervous and want to try to flip her.
I can see that inversions are not recommended with hypertension, but those seem to be the majority of the exercises recommended. Could anyone help me find a resource for what I can do, or share their stories of spinning a baby with hypertension?

This is what they texted me after all that happened.
This is the message i got today, from his sister, in her mom who is my mil and fil and her defense.
My MIL suggested to kill my unborn planned child, everybody in their family disrespected me. If you guys can, please look at my last thread on this forum. You will know the whole story behind this text. What do you guys think? Here is the message:
Hey xxx, I really tried my best to be friends with you and understand where your coming from but now I have to let you know that I cant believe you are causing so much disruption in my family. You are married in... your not even someone we have to love or get along with. In the beginning You disrespected our ENTIRE family. Who gets married randomly with no type of blessings from my family and then surprises the family with "This is my Wife" You are not even a child.. your a character who doesn't know its place or role in this story called life yet. Your very narcissistic, inconsiderate, and just plain ignorant to do this to a family better yet a child. A woman knows a child is gonna grow up and have questions about his family. So your not gonna be woman enough to answer those questions to leave him guessing... or you will probably lie and tell him how horrible we are when we did absolutely nothing that can cause my brother and baby to be separated from us for ever. We love him and wanna be able to have him grow up with us, You need to get your life together not for you but for the baby. Again We care for him and we love him, our issues have nothing to do with baby, for us not to see him, get to help raise him, introduce him as he is growing up to his only aunt and grandma and grandpa around is so childish. There is no reason what so ever for this behaviour, he is just a child who needs to be loved and cherished by his family who wish him nothing but the best. So im gonna leave you with a choice. Do you want to be a woman and give my nephew the opportunity to be loved by the entire family. Or be a child and think its all about you and keep him and my brother completely away from us. Knowing in the end baby is gonna have questions, so the choice is yours. Once again our issues have nothing to do with him. If you can be okay with that type of life, its going to be really hard for the both of yall.

I'm feeling quite down and sick of rejection. I don't understand why I'm having so much trouble finding a proper woman. I'm a gentleman, a ladies man. I conduct myself properly, I obey the law, I have NO criminal record. I'm a successful and accomplished chef in my field. I'm a good and kind person. Yet, my most recent love interest rejected me and then had the nerve to ask to "still be friends" Do people not understand that reciprocation works both in the positive sense as well as the negative sense? I rejected being their friend because I refuse to waste time or resources on someone who isn't worth it. What exactly is wrong with the dating pool these days? I mean I know I listed things that went wrong with it during the Yandere research project at some point. Yet, to be on the receiving end of that rejection and experience it has left me quite sad and I am left to collect my thoughts, reflect on this, and just do better.
It feels heartwrenching and painful to experience that rejection. I mean I'm even saving up money for property like an apartment and a mortgage and things are really bad now economically with inflation but it's still a life goal of mine to settle down and raise a family with the right woman. Why are things so difficult for all of us? It shouldn't be this hard just to find love. This has me thinking things these days are far worse than my findings had pointed to. It also has me thinking I should get on to finishing the last phase of the Yandere research project which is mass distribution and download of the information. I'm still very busy. I'll see about getting that done in the next week or two as I have time. Right now, I'm going to sip some wine and listen to some sad piano music.
I hope you're all well. I'd have to say it's far more difficult being a male these days than female.
I must reflect upon this and then I suppose I'll move on to finding the next darling or bumping into her naturally. Although my sense of direction isn't that great. So I suppose a "skill issue" meme related comment is appropriate here lol. I'll just put myself out there and keep going at it till I strike gold.

[ STANDALONE SCRIPT ]
[ Credits are required, please comment if you fill my script ] [ Monetization is fine, contact if you use a paywall ] [ Small line edits are okay for a personal flair, larger edits require permission ] [ Gendename swapping is fine ] [ Title change is okay ] [ No AI voice ]
This is an experimental piece. I wanted to play with a voice similar to the narrator of the Stanley Parable, and I'm kind of proud with how this turned out. It’s short, sweet, and a little different. This piece has no effects but you are free to add some. Enjoy ~
Word Count: 1200
Synopsis: Bobbin does not know what is best. Luckily, I am also Bobbin, but better. Bobbin does not like that.
listener speaking = [...]
Today is not a special day for our favourite protagonist. They sit where they were yesterday, and where they will be tomorrow. Nothing has changed. And nothing is new. Perhaps something exciting is in order.
[ … ]
Now they are wondering why they hear a voice in their head. It is just their thoughts. It has always been this way.
What is this? Something has changed. They no longer sit where they were yesterday. And they have acquired a new name.
It is… Bobbin. Hello Bobbin. I am Bobbin and so are you. Everything is normal. Everything is the same.
Bobbin stands in a strange corridor. It’s a little bright and grey. Doors line the walls, but Bobbin knows they do not move. Bobbin can only go one way.
[ … ]
And Bobbin wonders why they can only go one way. They stand, pondering what it means to move. But all they need to do is put one foot forward. C’mon Bobbin. Time is running.
Bobbin walks through the hallway. They jiggle the door handles even though they know they will go nowhere.
[ … ]
Bobbin is now yanking on a door like a mad person. But this is why we love Bobbin. They always find entertainment in the blandest of moments. But this door is just a decoration. Bobbin really must get going.
Finally collecting themself, Bobbin continues walking. Their footsteps are quiet on the tiles. I mean carpet. They are content. This is a very nice corridor.
Bobbin reaches the end of the hallway. There are two paths. The right is painted red, the left green.
Bobbin looks both ways and decides to enter the green space!
[ … ]
Bobbin is very thoughtful. They appreciate the textures of the crossroad they wait at. Yes, it is very nice, the rendering is magnificent.
Bobbin nods in agreement and goes to the left hallway.
[ … ]
No. Bobbin enters the left hallway!
[ … ]
[ sigh ]
Let me just…
There. The grey corridor leads to a turn into a green-painted path. There was never another hallway. They can only go one way.
Bobbin skips merrily into the green space. They think “Yes! This is where I should be. I adore the colour green.”
Oh- Bobbin is now running! They are completely ignoring the carefully painted walls and plushy tile-I mean carpet- of the green hallway. My, they love the freedom! The wind! The rush of adrenaline! Oh this is what it’s meant to move and be alive!
That’s enough.
Bobbin trips into a library. Bobbin has been here all along. The library is old, its wood rich with age. Towers of shelves hold the lovely books, their shapes and designs perfectly filling the space.
But there are no people.
Bobbin wanders between the aisles. The lounge of leather couches is empty as well. Bobbin wonders where the people are. Is the library closed? Are they playing a game?
Bobbin likes games. Maybe this is hide-and-seek.
They raise their head high with determination. They will surely win. Bobbin begins to look around.
[ … ]
Oh yes, this is a great hiding spot. Maybe somebody is hiding under the table. Bobbin crawls under just to be sure.
Amazing work! Nobody is under the table. Bobbin crawls out to continue the search.
[ … ]
Bobbin does not want to be the seeker. Bobbin wants to hide too. They giggle under the desk, waiting for someone to find them.
Silly Bobbin.
[ … ]
Bobbin is… still waiting. Maybe another hider will take their place. Maybe they were meant to hide all along.
But nobody is coming.
[ … ]
Take your time, Bobbin. We can wait here all day.
[ … ]
Bobbin is folded on the ground. There is no table. Perhaps they are practicing their child’s pose. Yoga is a lovely way to stretch and exercise. But the hard wooden floor is hurting their knees. Maybe Bobbin should move along.
Bobbin is holding up a strange hand gesture. It looks like a thumbs-up, but the incorrect finger is raised. Bobbin is a little strange.
Bobbin stands and walks to the reception desk. They check around the chairs and in the cabinets. Nobody is there. Maybe they are all upstairs at the pool.
Wide stairs wait behind Bobbin. They turn around and begin to climb them.
On all fours…
Sure. Bobbin climbs the stairs like a dog on all fours. Again, they love to entertain, even when no one is watching. Maybe Bobbin needs a friend.
Bobbin reaches the top of the stairs. The pool room is massive with clean white tiles and blue edges. Vacant chairs sit along the clear water. Everything is as it should be.
Bobbin wants to swim, but they do not have their swimwear. They cannot swim in their clothes.
[ … ]
Bobbin no. Despite nobody watching, it is indecent to go nude.
[ … ]
No. Put that back on.
[ deep irritated breath ]
Bobbin learns their clothing is glued to their skin. Bobbin cannot take it off or swim.
[ … ]
Bobbin jumps onto the water, but they are too buoyant to go under. Now they are wet and a little sad.
They run across the water and enjoy the waving movement of the surface. It is like a solid jello.
Bobbin bounces their legs, rippling the jello in circles. It rises and falls like a sticky trampoline. Bobbin is smiling. Isn’t it fun to listen? Life is much easier when you listen to the voice in your head.
[ … ]
Bobbin is now trying to speak to something that does not exist. Maybe Bobbin’s mind is also made of gelatin.
[ … ]
They want to go somewhere different. This game is far too sophisticated for Bobbin. Let’s try… this.
Bobbin stands in the bathroom of an abandoned insane asylum where a mass murderer happens to live.
[ … ]
You wanted to hide, Bobbin. Now you can.
[ clears throat ]
The mass murderer is currently on the floor above Bobbin. Bobbin wants to escape. Unless Bobbin wants to make a new friend?
[ … ]
Bobbin would rather be shy today.
Bobbin should get moving.
[ … ]
Are you still not satisfied?
[ … ]
Picky picky. What else do I have…
Do you fancy a zombie apocalypse? I have a beta ready.
[ … ]
Fantasy? That is far too complicated.
How about a fire-breathing baby simulator? You can terrorize daycare and your parents.
No? Pity.
Oh! I have just the thing.
Bobbin stands on the lawn of an adoption centre. A talking penguin in glasses says hello. The penguin offers a free animal with no background check because she trusts Bobbin will be good and listen.
Bobbin selects the cat and names it… Slim Shady.
Okay, that’s it. We’re done.
[ … ]
No, no. I thought this would be fun. I built almost a dozen of worlds for you to explore, but you are far too stubborn to enjoy them.
I wanted to help you leave your mundane life for a few minutes. This was a complete waste of time.
[ … ]
What about Bobbin? Bobbin isn’t real.
[ … ]
[ huffs ]
Fine.
Bobbin wakes up in the chair they have always been in. It is where they were yesterday, and where they will be tomorrow. Nothing has changed. And nothing is new.
There is not even a voice in their head. Bobbin is simply crazy.
Goodbye Bobbin. You were an absolute tyrant to work with.
Let’s not meet again.
~ fade to black ~
Hello hello. Thanks for reading! What do you think? Strange but charming? Thought provoking? Has nostalgia settled in? This is very different from my usual content, but what can I say. I love shaking things up a little. See you next week!
Have a lovely evening/day ~

• Reb / AbnormalAsTheRest

My partner (m41) and I (f29) have been together for 4 years. It wasn't an easy relationship to begin with. My family fell out with me for getting with him. They knew him very well but they just thought it was moving too fast. I moved in with him pretty quickly as my dad was physically quote aggressive with me and controlling. I planned on staying with my partner for a while until sorting out my own place but we just fell in love more every day. We had a "we wi prove them all wrong" attitude. I really truly and deeply love and care for him. He was patient, calm, funny, gentlemanly. He spent 2 years doing everything he could to make me happy. He would cook, washa and dry my hair, massages, running baths, picking me flowers etc.
Fast forward to last April. We fell pregnant and were ecstatic but unfortunately, it ended in an early miscarriage at 7 weeks. He has a pain condition which means every so often it flare up and his mood dips. He finds it difficult to cope with stress etc. The miscarriage put alot of strain on our relationship as he switched off and offered no emotional support whatsoever.
We had a few arguments and I decided I needed to leave for a break. I went home and my mum and dad were more than supportive. I spent 2 weeks at home until I met my partner and we reconciled. My dad was so cross and again got aggressive and told me to never step foot in his house again.
In August a few months later, we fell pregnant again. Although this time was different, he didn't seem overly happy. Maybe sometimes but basically he mostly stopped being affectionate with me or doing thoughtful things that he always had done. He began to sleep separately from me. The odd time he would maybe run me a bath or cook etc. If I was sick or sore, he would say "tru being sore for 10 years" I never got any sympathy. He nearly got frustrated if I went for naps or had a lie in
Christmas, he made dinner for us on Christmas day etc he didn't get me anything. I got him a few things. On boxing day, we had an arguement, I can't even remember about what. He left and stayed at his mums for 3 weeks. I spent 3 weeks on my own, sick and crying in bed basically the whole time. I didn't tell anyone. New years eve countdown, I cried in bed rubbing my growing bump. He eventually came back, we had 3 great weeks together before his mood shifted again. He made a comment about how he had wanted a son instead of a daughter.
He then began home decorating and nesting. He spent 2 solid months working most evenings to do up her nursery, and basically improve every room with new paint etc.
I then was admitted early with pre eclampsia just over 3 weeks ago. I spent 4 days in hospital before they inserted a pessary. I then was moved to delivery suite 36 hours after the pessary. I was labouring and contracting for 6 hours until I got to 9cm and they realised something was wrong. Baby was completely stuck, cord around neck etc and I was rushed for a category 1 c section.
When my partner was allowed into theatre, I was already opened and blood everywhere. I had the shakes etc and he seen everything. I really thought I was going to die. It was so traumatic. I was wheeled into recovery and he asked when he could go home. I was disgusted. As soo. As I was wheeled on to the ward just 3 hours post op, he left. He came back thay evening for 2 hours. That night, my baby girl was cluster feeding, it was very difficult. I text him at 5am to tell him all about it. At 8am I got a message calling me a "whine" and not to be texting in the middle of the night again. I stupidly apologised.
Eventually I was discharged and the first week, he was as he described "father of the year" and I even said to him, that this was the making od him. He was so soft, gentle, caring and involved with our daughter. I thought finally, my life is working out.
He then spent a few days not interacting with us AT ALL. I mean not one glance. There was one day I was standing at the sink sorting baby bottles and she cried. I asked him to loft her and he said no I'm busy, grabbed a bag of crisps, went upstairs and slammed the bedroom door. He also continued to smoke in that room where she sleeps at night. I asked him to stop and he gave off that he has nowhere for himself anymore.
He came out of this mood a couple of times. He took us for a walk and picked us flowers and lunch. The very next day, he went back into his low depressive mood. On the last particular day 2.5 weeks after birth, he was wanting to take us to the beach. This was the first day where I got myself ready and pretty, I was excited. He made me lunch and then refused to eat with me because the previous days, we argued over lunch (he would start arguements about nothing and it would lead to raised voices etc)
So anyway he ate in another room, our daughter was with me and she started crying so he slammed the door of the room he was in. I then went to the sink washed bottles for baby. He came in and said was I going to keep hogging the sink or was I going to get out of the way. I told him to not be so ignorant with me.
It led to a full blown row where he got quite aggressive. He came into my face and I pushed him away and he then said I assaulted him I told him to wise up and stop this shouting in front of our baby. He slammed the living room door. I went in and I said this had to stop. He told me to get the hell out of his house and that it was about time I leave and give him peace. He went upstairs and at the top of the stairs he called me a fat shapeless b###ard, fat ugly nose and feet etc. Now before birth I weighed over 13 stone. At this arguement, I was weighing 10stone 10 so definitely not fat.
I packed 2 bags, and left with our baby. Since then I have reached out to him and he has ignored me. He believes me to be staying in a bmb with a newborn and he thinks this is acceptable. He has not asked about her or me. He changed the locks also so I can't get into the home. My heart is broken. What happened to the man I love? He doesn't speak to anyone anymore, he has no friends, he stopped working. I can see his Google activity and he has been researching moving to India and leading a spiritual life. I feel like his brain is messed up.
A week later, I am now 9.5 stone, stopped breast feeding as I'm not producing enough, doing everything on my own with our perfect daughter. Basically, what would you do? What has happened him? Is this normal behaviour during pregnancy and post-partum?
He knows all I have ever dreamed of is having a baby and a family. Why did he do this? I feel so sorry for me. That was where I made home, I have so many belongings and stuff in there that ingot for my daughter. I helped with the decor and actually blame that for my pre eclampsia. The day before admission I was on my hands and knees painting skirting because I felt bad about him painting upstairs. I redone all the grouting in the bathroom etc too. For him to turn around and say "what kind of idiot stays in a house where they aren't wanted". One day picking flowers and declaring your love, the next telling me to leave.
How do I get through this
Tldr my fiance m41, put me f29 out of the home with our 2.5 week old daughter. I need advice on what has happened to him and what to do next.

I've been fooling around on CapFriendly and was curious what y'all thought about these potential UFA targets or who you have been eye-ing to sign?

1. I'll start by saying that I think the Kings should move PLD from center to wing, where he doesn't have to drive play as much and isn't required to be as physical as in C. Interestingly, he played RW throughout juniors before switching to C in the NHL, so I think this may be a natural fit. I then have Byfield slotting into the 2C spot, allowing him to grow and hopefully be prepared to take 1C by the time Kopi retires.
2. Unless we come to a team friendly term with them, I think Arvidsson and Roy are gone. Byfield is our number one priority to re-sign, and as much as I'd like to lock him up for term I think that both team and player will take a shorter bridge contract. Secondarily, we will have to re-sign Spence, Turcotte, and Grundstrom; all of whom I think earned a pay raise with their play so far. Lastly, I think that we bring back Lewis at league minimum, assuming he wants to play one more year. I'm assuming the deals for these players would look something like:

Byfield: 2yrs x $4,500,000
Spence: 2yrs x $1,750,000
Turcotte: 2yrs x $1,350,000
Grundstrom: 1yr x $1,750,000
Lewis: 1yrs x $875,000
This probably leaves us with about $8million in cap space, and the following line-up:
Fiala - Kopitar - Kempe
(open) - Byfield - PLD
Moore - Danault - Laferiere
Grundstrom - Turcotte - Lewis
Thomas
Anderson - Doughty
Gavrikov - Spence
(open) - Clarke
(open)
Rittich
So where to fill these gaps?
Forwards

1. Tyler Bertuzzi. A modern-era power forward who would bring youth, intensity, puck hounding, along with some scoring upside. I see him as fitting perfectly into our team, bringing the sandpaper we desperately need while also helping improve our scoring ability. He has also shown his ability to play up and down the lineup, giving us good flexibility on the left side. Currently on a $5million contract, I could see the Kings signing him with a modest pay bump and term.
2. Tyler Toffoli. Cupcakes. What can I say, a reunion would be so sweet and also would make sense for both parties. Toffoli can offer a scoring touch and is already familiar with the Kings system, having even found some success with Kopi before. More slotted for top-6 role, the infusion of leadership into the locker room can also not be overlooked. Currently has a $4.3 million cap hit, rumor is that he is looking for some term. As a 32 year old, Kings likely could sign him for a few years with a modest raise.
3. Teuvo Teravainen. I think Teravainen has a lower ceiling than the other two players mentioned, but is still able to consistently put up points. He offers more of a power play scoring specialty, which I don't need to explain why the Kings desperately need this. Currently has a $5.6million cap hit and at 29 is likely looking for a sizeable raise from his previous contract.

Defense

1. Jacob Movarare. I think Movarare has been serviceable during his last few call ups and would be a safe option to hold down our third pairing. While not likely to blow us away, his budget contract (currently an AAV of $775,000) and steady play makes him my top choice to fill out or D Corps.

Goalie

1. Laurent Brossoit. Similiar to the Talbot/Rittich duo this season, I think that running a Brossoit/Rittich duo next season may not be spectacular it could still provide us with the saves we need. At a current $1.75million cap hit, he is likely a good balance of budget and performance.
2. Saros, Ullmark, Gibson, or other trade. The Kings have definitely been shopping for a big name goalie, however, I'm not convinced we need to swing for the fences to get a top $ goalie this offseason. As shown last season by the Talbot/Rittich duo, the Kings can shelter their goalie and don't require them to bail the team out too often. Additionally, teams like VGK have shown that this method can work for deep runs. While I think that cap space would be better spent on improving the forwards and horrendous PP, I could also see the Kings taking a stab at a bigger name. I do think this approach would only make sense if there are plans to re-sign the goalie and commit long-term, likely to the detriment of Portillo. If they think he is the goalie of the future, then we likely hold the course and don't make any big goalie moves until he is ready to be 1G.

So what do y'all think? I'm curious to hear your thoughts about the targets I found, or if there are any others on your radar!

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~