In the fast-paced world we inhabit, finding time to care for our beloved vehicles often takes a back seat to our daily commitments. Yet, ensuring our cars remain pristine and well-maintained is paramount not only for aesthetics but also for longevity and performance. Check out: car detailing mclean va
This is where Intersport Car Spa & Storage steps in, offering a haven for car enthusiasts and busy individuals alike.
A Sanctuary for Your Vehicle:
Nestled in the heart of urban centers, Intersport Car Spa & Storage isn’t just another car wash or parking lot. It’s a sanctuary meticulously crafted to cater to the needs of both car connoisseurs and everyday drivers. As you enter the facility, a sense of sophistication envelopes you, setting the tone for the exceptional service that lies ahead.
Luxurious Amenities:
Intersport Car Spa & Storage isn’t merely a place to park your vehicle; it’s an experience. Imagine a sleek lounge area where you can relax as your car undergoes a thorough spa treatment. Sip on gourmet coffee or enjoy complimentary refreshments while catching up on work using high-speed Wi-Fi. The facility is equipped with state-of-the-art amenities, ensuring that your time spent here is nothing short of indulgent.
Comprehensive Car Care:
From exterior detailing to interior cleaning and beyond, Intersport Car Spa & Storage leaves no stone unturned when it comes to caring for your vehicle. Their team of expert technicians employs the latest techniques and premium products to restore your car to its pristine condition. Whether it’s removing stubborn stains from upholstery or buffing out minor scratches, your vehicle is in capable hands.
Tailored Storage Solutions:
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Convenience Redefined:
What truly sets Intersport Car Spa & Storage apart is its unwavering commitment to convenience. Booking a service is seamless, thanks to their user-friendly online platform. Need a last-minute detailing before a special event? No problem. With flexible scheduling options, they accommodate even the busiest of schedules. Additionally, their valet service ensures that your car is always ready when you need it, sparing you the hassle of waiting.
A Testament to Excellence:
In an industry saturated with mediocrity, Intersport Car Spa & Storage stands as a beacon of excellence. Their dedication to quality, coupled with a passion for customer satisfaction, sets them apart as the premier destination for discerning car owners. Whether you’re seeking top-notch detailing services or a secure storage facility, Intersport exceeds expectations at every turn.
Conclusion:
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Used car in Incheon surveys say that Volkswagen Tiguan was huge advantage in serious market of delicate roaders gave space was not fundamentally important. After Volkswagen sent off Tiguan in the year 2008, there was a mix in fragment of reduced delicate roaders. It carried alongside the standing of Volkswagen for solid unique entertainers alongside European energy.
Alongside heaps of contest (for the most part from Korea and South Korea), Tiguan got the work removed, especially as it wasn't anyplace near large, including the X-Trail of Nissan or high-selling Forester from Subaru.
While looking for Tiguan, you ought to pay a great deal for a used car which has very little choices. The European makers are very really great for conjuring the arrangements of choices and VW isn't any unique. A portion of the Tiguans are prepared well than the others.
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Hardly any purchasers are drawn to Volkswagen as it isn't South Korean. In any case, brand grandiosity just gets you up to this point and one can contend that Tiguan needs construct quality and dependability of few counterparts.
''DSG'' Speedy reasoning double grip auto gear box is known to have a few issues, with few used cars requiring new transmissions. For being fair, it appears as though Volkswagen has done right thing here yet any DSG which thumps or shivers in to equip or can't make its psyche about which stuff to get can be inconvenience.
Super motor of diesel is truly vigorous however expects that the cam belt is swapped for each 100,000 kms.
As focused diesel, you really want to give it ordinary upkeep, and thus administration record is truly fundamental part in any of the utilized Tiguan, says utilized used car audits.
For the petroleum motors, astounding ''twincharged'' 125kW 1.4-liters motor for Golf GT was not accessible in Tiguan. All things being equal, decision was among 2 x 2.0-liter four-chamber turbocharged units - 1 with force of 125kW or 147kW model acquired from Golf GTI.
These motors conveyed well and subsequently forward-thinking and stepped administration hand book is required. Perhaps greatest issues of value that faces Volkswagens in recent years are having niggles with the electrics and trim.
You ought to check every one of the power window for ensuring that the sun rooftop works and isn't spilling. The water stains on featuring are signs that the water is getting inside and obstructed channels channel of are possible guilty party. Utilized used car surveys say that you ought to really look at every one of the buttons and dials to check whether the work, particularly satnav and Bluetooth. They ought to be really taken a look at through telephone associations. The most serious issue for the future clients is load space Tiguan's which is truly less.

My poor sister. She's my half sister, and she was unfortunately raised by nMom/egg donor. I was raised by my father and learned to spot egg donor's crap early in life. My sister was not as lucky. nMom had a solid 20 years to fully brainwash her and control the narrative and she's only just coming out of it now.
I was forced to move in with nMom, her husband, and their two kids when I was a teenager and my sister and I really bonded. I started "pranking" her by picking up her phone whenever she put it down and changing the language to one we don't speak, then putting it back. nMom thought it was funny until sister successfully used my "prank" as a reason to keep her phone locked, and not share the passcode with anyone as I proved I could watch over their shoulders and get the code that way. I was kicked out shortly after sis started questioning egg donor on some things, I went NC, and the world went back to how nMom wanted it. Sis and I lost touch.
Fast forward to now and sis is also NC with our egg donor and in a very healthy relationship with a nice man who convinced her to go to therapy. We reconnected. And started talking about the lies, specifically the ones nMom told sis and others that are so easily disproved.
nMom lied about her blood type. Who does that? She desperately wants to be or have a special medical case and told my sister she was AB- because she heard somewhere it was the rarest type. Sis and both have health problems, so between the info our doctors got from us and us knowing our own blood types and our fathers' blood types, nMom couldn't have AB- blood, unless she adopted or stole us. Since we both look identical to her and each other, we're pretty confident she just lied to sis. For some fucking reason. (We also called her father to confirm. She's O+)
Sis was told that my father cheated on nMom and that caused their divorce. They split because my father caught her cheating, which resulted in a child. The date (and result) of the paternity test and their divorce pretty clearly states what happened.
nMom tried to spin a story about her not getting custody of me because everyone ganged up on her and she had no choice. I showed Sis how to find court records from my hometown online and she found the dates nMom was in jail for kidnapping me and neglecting the affair baby, who was later taken away by the state and adopted out. The custody case for me ended with nMom voluntarily signing away all rights to me to avoid more jail time.
Apparently nMom also tried to claim that she voluntarily gave up Affair Baby as a teen mom and then got pregnant with me and married my father. I'm a little speechless at this one, but I guess she wanted to paint herself as a tragic victim who did the right thing for her daughters by giving one up and letting my dad take me. The truth is I'm the baby she got pregnant with as a teen, and she and my dad divorced because of Affair Baby, who was born 18 months after me. Affair Baby was removed from her custody due to neglect. I'm not sure how she hoped to keep this lie up.
Sis wasn't even told about Affair Baby until nMom randomly mentioned it to a friend in front of Sis and tried to spin the above story. Sis was 12 at the time and shocked. nMom fed her a ton of lies about the situation. I've put her in contact with the woman Affair Baby grew into via social media (she has a lovely family; we chat once or twice a year) so that's getting worked through.
When sis started dating, nMom's version of a sex talk was to horrify her with tales of nMom being bullied in school because she was pregnant. She persevered and graduated just in time to have me and/or Affair Baby, but it was hard and sis should learn from her mistakes and be smarter. I don't talk to our grandmother, but sis was able to reach out and grandma confirmed nMom dropped out of high school to marry my father and have me.
There's a lot more, but one that was really hard for us both to get through was The Night I Left. nMom told Sis I just left for no reason and they didn't hear from me again for years. Truth is, nMom kicked me out on my birthday because I caught her in a lie and called her out on it. And, as I later found out, she'd heard Sis asking me if she could go with me when I moved out. nMom convinced Sis I just didn't want Sis moving in with me so I'd moved out and ghosted them all. I was homeless for 2 months.
It was a very long, exhausting conversation to have with my sister. In the end she burst into tears and said "Sis... I think my whole life has been a lie."
She's got a hard journey ahead of her, and helping her through it is stirring up some stuff I thought I'd gotten over by now. Thanks for letting me vent.

I am NOT OOP. OOP is u/justathrowaway282641
Originally posted to TwoHotTakes + her own page
Previous BoRU #1, BoRU #2, BoRU #3, BoRU #4, BoRU #5, BoRU 6
Editor’s Note: removed all relevant comments from older posts to make space for new updates. To see all older relevant comments, check out the previous BoRUs above
NEW UPDATE MARKED WITH ----
[New Update]: My family forgot to invite me to my grandparents funeral, but they are convinced I was there.
Trigger Warnings: death of loved ones, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, harassment
RECAP
Original Post: November 14, 2023**
I’m 30s F and caused a major blowup in my family and now none of them are talking to me. For background, my hometown is tiny (500pop) and when I went 2 hrs away to “the city” (15,000pop) for college, I loved it. I ended up staying after graduation, got married, and am happy here for a decade. I visit my home town every few weeks or so, call/text my family near daily, and thought we were all good. My family’s pretty small. Just my brother, mom, step dad, dad, step mom, and an aunt and uncle (mom’s siblings, never married, no kids). My mother's grandparents moved to my home town when I was in high school and were just down the street from us. My family has always been pretty drama free (aside from my parent’s divorce when I was a kid) and we’ve been happy. The step-parents were blended in perfectly and we share holidays and celebrations together. We’re all super close and just the perfect little group.
Ever since I moved away, the topic of “when am I moving back?” is constant, and I’ve always laughed it off. My home town has nothing. You have to drive 30 minutes for milk and bread. 60-90 minute one-way commutes to work. And floods shut down the main road every Easter. I love the town, but I love here more. I have parks, stores, community events, a library! The “city” is great. My family grumbles that I need to move back, but I refuse. I've been trying to encourage them to come here, especially since it's not an hour drive to the nearest medical facility.
Now to the meat and potatoes: both my grandparents passed over COVID times. They were both old and their health had been failing for a while so it was only a matter of time. Thankfully they didn’t catch it, but it made visiting them impossible and we survived mostly through FaceTime. They both passed in their sleep months apart. Both were cremated and kept securely under the kitchen sink for safe keeping while the pandemic blew over. That was 2021.
Well, I just found out my family held a funeral for them and scattered the ashes in my uncle’s maple grove over the summer. No one said a word to me about it. I’ve visited numerous times before and after and not one word. I only found out because my great uncle from California posted on Facebook a few weeks ago that he is entering hospice and was so thankful his health stayed strong enough for him to see his little sister (my grandma) to her final resting place. I was confused and called my mom. She was all “Yeah, the funeral we had in July, remember?” Ya’ll, I visited them for the 4th of July. They did the funeral the 8th. Not a word about it to me. They had planned this for months. Long enough to arrange for my infirm great uncle to be brought over from the other side of the country. Apparently, they talked about it “all the time”.
Everyone is convinced I was at the funeral. They SWEAR I was there. I can prove I wasn’t because Google’s got my location history. My hubby is baffled because he was supposedly there, too, but he had to work every weekend in June and July. Time clock doesn’t lie. My family straight up forgot about me. I’m hurt. I’m sad. And they’re pissed at me “for lying”. They think I’m causing drama over nothing. Nothing I say can convince them I wasn’t there. My family is united in this. And they’ve all put me “on read” until I admit I’m wrong. They think I’ve gone nuts. Either there’s a doppelganger of me attending events, or my family doesn’t want to admit they screwed up. I’m not backing down.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and my family’s been vague posting on Facebook about “forgetful kids” and mental health. It’s so freaking weird and I don’t know if I’m in bizzaro world or what’s going on. My mom’s best friend reached out and said I should just admit I was wrong and apologize, that I’m causing my mom so much unnecessary stress. I asked her if she’s checked everyone’s home for CO2. She hung up on me. (We checked our CO2, and our testers are running just fine.) I have reached out to a few people in my home town to check in on my folks, and they all say they're fine. I even spoke with the local volunteer fire fighter group to see if they could check for gas leaks. Not sure if they were able to.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve shown them the proof I wasn’t there, but they know I’m tech savvy and just assume I’ve Photoshopped it. Hubby says we need a break, and we’re going to be staying home this holiday season.
Edit: I don't know the update rules, so I'll post updates to my profile should anyone want them.  
Update #1: November 27, 2023
Not sure how to do updates on posts, so figured I'd post anything on my profile. Folks have private messaged me and this will be easier I think?
It's 11/27 and Thanksgiving just happened. Hubby and I stayed home. We got a small turkey and made our own little thanksgiving. It was nice. We ate around noon, then watched a movie, and later sat outside with a bottle of wine to watch the sun set behind the trees and neighbor houses.
We usually take the day before off, drive to my folks, stay the night, and help with the Thanksgiving Day cooking. So it wasn't until Wednesday night that my mom broke the silence. Mom called and asked when I was showing up, and I told her we were staying home this year, but for them to have a happy Thanksgiving, and to give the rest of the family my love. She was quiet for a long time after I said that, and I think she eventually mumbled an "okay", or something, and hung up. It wasn't an angry hang up. Just a hang up. On Thanksgiving day, I sent a group "Happy Thanksgiving!" gif to our family group chat. I received a few "happy Thanksgiving"'s back. No one's said anything else. There's been no posts on Facebook.  
Update #2: December 12, 2023
So, I think I mentioned in one of my comments that my dad and I usually talk on the phone every Sunday morning. We're both early risers so we'd chat over our morning coffees and watch the sunrise. Him and I haven't really spoken since this all went down and it's been tough. I'm used to talking to him, you know?
Well, I was sitting outside in my usual spot, watching the sun rise and freezing my butt off, and he called me. I'm not entirely sure how to describe the emotions I felt. It was a mix of panic, hope, terror, happiness, and dread. I ended up answering because I just had to know what he wanted. It was an awkward conversation. He didn't address the current "drama", but instead tiptoed around the situation with all the grace of an cow on stilts. For instance, a simple "How are you doing?" Type question was answered with a "Not good." And the whole conversation would stall out for a bit because he knew why I wasn't doing well. So we ended up talking about the weather, the various winter birds we'd seen in our feeders, and the Christmas decorations around town. Things like that.
Eventually he asked if we were coming out for Christmas, and sounded sad when I told him we weren't. He asked if him and step mom could come visit us instead, and I told him it wasn't a good idea this year. That hubby and I were going to spend a quiet holiday together. I let him know he should be receiving some gifts at his PO Box any day now, so to please pick them up from the post office and put them under the family tree for everyone. He said he'd ship ours to us as well.
And that was pretty much it. No crazy drama to report. The only posts on Facebook have been the usual Christmas excitement ones, countdowns, photos of Santa, silly gift ideas, photos of company Christmas parties.
On a personal note: Hubby and I are doing alright. Our health is good, our spirits high, and we're as solid as ever. We each got Christmas bonus' at our jobs, so we're excited about that. They're not large, but we're happy to have them. We have also done advent calendars for the first time ever. I got him a Lego one, and he got me a hot chocolate one. We're going to do the calendars again next year. Maybe make a tradition out of it.
Everyone please have a safe and happy holidays.  
Inheritance: December 16, 2023
I've received a lot - A LOT - of messages and private DMs urging me to check into inheritance and such. I'm really touched a lot of Internet strangers are worried about me and I wanted to ensure everyone that inheritance is most likely not an issue here. I'd almost be relieved if it was, because then it would at least make some sense. Money does weird things to people, you know?
No one in my family is wealthy by any means. After my grandparents' passed, their small estate was used to pay for their end of life expenses and remaining assets split up. Everyone directly related got an equal split (so excluded my dad and the step parents). I don't remember the exact amount I received, but it was around $5k if I recall. My brother gave me his share, too, so I could finish paying off my college debt while the interest freeze was active.
The great uncle from California has kids and grand kids, and great grandkids of his own, and also isn't wealthy. I think one of his kids makes good money doing something in finance, but I'm not entirely sure. I can't imagine he left us anything, as we hardly knew him. My mom, aunt, and uncle only met him a few times in their lives, and my brother and I even less. Grandma and him were close, but I don't think he liked my grandpa much.  
Christmas: December 25, 2023
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I've received a lot of support through my posts and I'm really grateful. Writing these updates have had a therapeutic effect.
Yesterday was Sunday, but I didn't answer my dad when he called. I just really didn't feel up to a pointless chat, so let it go to voicemail. He tried to reach me a few times throughout the day, but I didn't answer.
Our bestie last minute invited us over to his house for Christmas day lunch (today), so husband and I were busy all Christmas Eve making cookies, peanut brittle, and homemade suckers/hard candies for his kids. Mom tried to reach out as well, but I also ignored her calls.
We had a BLAST at lunch! Our friend's kids are a lot of fun to be around. They got some techy presents from their grandparents (Quest vr headset and steam decks, lucky little rascals) Friend and his wife aren't good with tech, while hubby and I are, so we helped get them set up while our friend played a good host to his folks and inlaws. The grandparents didn't realize that a Steam deck required a Steam account, so we got the kids all their own accounts set up, added them to our steam friends lists, and gifted them some games. We also bought them a few VR games for their headset, and they were off to the races with Beat Saber in no time.
As for my folks: My brother texted and asked if we could talk sometime tomorrow. I think me ignoring mom and dad has caused some kind of upset. Which they deserve.  
Brother’s call: December 26, 2023
Spoke with my brother over the phone this morning.
For starters, he apologized for everything. Him and I are good (for now). For a bit of background, my brother and I are only 2 years apart. There weren't a lot of kids around growing up, so the two of us were often stuck doing stuff together. So we have a lot of shared interests and passions. He's been pretty silent on this whole matter, but still "part of the group", if you know what I mean. I think the thought of losing him out of my life was probably the most painful, because he's always been there. He was my rock until I met my husband. He's definitely a Mama's boy, though, so anything mom wanted, he made sure she got. I'm happy to have him back.
Without further ado, here's the story from the horse's mouth:
Mom apparently had a cancer scare late last year (which no one told me about, go figure), and dad had a stint put in his heart back in January (which I did know about). This "sense of mortality" has apparently lit a fire under Mom's ass to get me back home. But since I wasn't reacting to her passive aggressive hinting, she and step mom decided to go full crazy. My great uncle's health was bad, and he'd been asking about funeral arrangements for his sister (my grandma) for a while, so the moms decided to plan it. And use the event as a giant middle finger to me. They kept all the planning pretty hush-hush between the two of them, so no one on our side of the family actually knew about the funeral until like 2 weeks before. The moms said they'd invited hubby and I. No one thought anything about it. No one thought to mention, confirm, or check with me.
The plan was to scatter the ashes, say a few words, and maybe head to town for lunch. It was a small affair. The mom's didn't even tell the family that our great uncle was coming for it. Like I said, it was a small thing. Barely a footnote. No one thought it was odd because we're pretty chill people.
4th of July happens. Hubby and I are out. No one thought to mention it, as we were all busy celebrating and having a great time. Any time the topic of "this weekend" would start, the conversation would be quickly shifted by one of the moms. We went back home.
8th of July happens. Great uncle rolls into town with a few of his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids, and it's a surprise to everyone (but the moms). Everyone drives to the maple grove and the moms have brought a ton of food and stuff. It's a full blown party. No one on my side noticed I wasn't there, because there were so many extra faces outside the usual group. They did the spreading of the ashes, they said their words, they ate, they had a great time. It wasn't until our great uncle left, and all his side left with him, that they realized I wasn't there. And hadn't been there.
And this is where the crazy went up a notch. My brother says the moms were happy no one noticed I wasn't there. And that this was proof to everyone that I needed to move back because I was so easily forgotten about. Because none of them thought to reach out, right? They basically did a ton of guilt tripping manipulation bullshit and it made everyone upset at me for not showing up. Somehow it was my fault for being excluded. So suddenly everyone was on their side with "sticking it to me".
But then a few months went by, and tempers cooled, and then I guess the horror of it set in. Followed by the shame, but by then they were "in too deep". How do you undo something like this? And since I hadn't brought it up, I guess they figured they would all just stay quiet about it and hope I never asked about a funeral.
That's when I discovered the situation from my great uncle's Facebook and called my mom, who panicked and went with the stupidest solution. Claiming I was there. Don't I remember?
I ended up talking with a few friends from high school, mentioning the situation, and word got back to those in town. So suddenly town gossip and little old church ladies got involved. Was I, or wasn't I at the funeral? Did my family forget to invite me to the funeral of the only grandparents I'd ever know? Or am I just causing a ruckus? My brother said they all just went with mom's answer. Of course they wouldn't forget me. Of course I was there. Of course they're good people. And it just snowballed.
The family expected me to eventually fold. I'm usually a nonconfrontational person, so me sticking to my guns was unexpected. And then I missed Thanksgiving. And now Christmas. With no sign of backing down. And I guess the realization that I could just stop being part of their lives is setting in and my parents are panicking. He's tried just getting them to apologize and explain, but stubbornness prevails. They want to rug sweep, but I'm not letting them.
My brother is upset with everything that's happened. He's realized just how crappy it all has been and he wants nothing to do with it anymore. But since he lives with my mom, he can't "get away from it".
He has asked if he can come stay with us for a little bit. I spoke with hubby, and he's in agreement with me that my brother can come crash in our spare bedroom for as long as he wants. Brother works remotely, so it's no trouble for him to pick up and go. I believe he's making the trip today or tomorrow. Not entirely sure, but I expect crap to hit the fan when he arrives.
On a side note, hubby's stoked that my brother and I made up. The two usually game together, but haven't due to "the situation". He's downstairs right now setting up his man cave in preparation for my brother's arrival. I'm happy to see him so excited.  
Brother's Here: December 27, 2023
My brother rolled in late last night. He'd obviously been crying and when I opened the door, he just held me and sobbed. I'd never seen him like that before and soon both of us were just standing in the doorway crying into one another. He kept apologizing. Over and over again. Said he wasn't sure why he went with it. Just kept saying sorry. Hubby got him all set up in the spare bedroom while brother and I talked. My brother's a wreck. He's always been a big guy, but he's lost a lot of weight and his clothes just hang off him. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was on drugs. We talked for a little bit before bed and he re-explained everything for my husband. I'd told hubby the story, but it was just so weird that hearing it again helped.
This morning my brother was up at dawn making some coffee and getting his work day going. Hubby's off all week (lucky) so hubby made us working folk some pancakes and bacon. So far everything's peaceful. We've decided not to answer any calls from our family. They've been made aware that he arrived safely, and that we are going to spend the New Years together, and that we're not answering any calls until January 1st. They may text if they wish. I'm sure they're losing their minds. Serves them right.
Everyone, have a safe and happy new years! Don't drink and drive!  
Happy 2024!: January 2, 2024
I hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable holidays, and may the new year be full of joy and happiness!
Not too much of an update. Things here have been quiet. My brother's settled in nicely and he's a great housemate. Our place isn't very big, but we have full basement and a nice outside patio/porch area so it doesn't feel crowded at all with the extra addition. He's a quiet and clean guy. No hassle at all. He got some fresh clothes from the Walmart, a haircut, and trimmed his beard, so he's more "presentable" now. He's a lady killer when he gets cleaned up. He's made nice with the (very nosy, but kind) retired couple next door and is adapting to "city living" nicely.
Folks back home have been mostly well behaved. There's been a few texts back and forth, as we're not answering calls. Mom mainly wants to know when brother's coming back, but he's keen on staying here for a while. Mom said I can't "keep him" and I told her he's a grown ass man and can do what he wants. Brother says he has her blocked after she ORDERED him to return home.
Brother has tentatively asked if he could stay long term, should he decide to, or at least longer than a usual visitor would stay. Which we're fine with. He has a good paying job and could afford an apartment, but he's never lived on his own and I would guess he has some anxiety about it. Should that be the case, he'll start paying us some rent and we'd probably adjust to give him the basement as his own space.  
Had to change the locks: January 17, 2024
My brother is officially staying with us for the long haul. Hubby and him spent all Sunday organizing the basement and shifting things around so he now has his own area to be comfortable in. He's pretty handy and has also started fixing little things around our house. Our windows and doors have never closed and locked/unlocked smoother. He even fixed one of the closets we never use because we can never get the darn door open. Sadly, he also had to change the locks on our house and get us all new keys.
This is because while hubby and I were out this Saturday, the moms showed up. They'd been calling and texting us all week, but we weren't really answering them, so I guess the two decided to drive over and hash it out in person. They have emergency keys to my place, and just let themselves in. Brother told them to leave, they argued, and my nosy (but kind) neighbors called the police when they noticed the commotion. So, we get a call from neighbor's wife, return home to some cops in our yard, all the neighbors out "vacuuming their trees", and my nosy (but kind) neighbors standing on my porch with my brother behind them, doing their best Gandalf "You shall not pass" impression.
Had to talk with the cops, explain that we were having a family dispute and word vomited. I don't really remember what all I said, and was shaking a lot. Our local cops are really great. Fantastic guys and gals in blue, and took it all in stride. It's really cold here, so one had me join him in his cruiser with the heat on, and gave me a bottle of water to calm down while we talked. They asked if we wanted the moms trespassed but I wasn't sure if that counted as a criminal charge so just asked the cops if they could just make them leave, which the cops did with no fuss. I think the moms were shocked we were taking this so seriously. They didn't fight or scream at us. Just left quietly.
My dad promised me he'd make sure his wife left us alone. "Or else". He said he'd also have a stern talk with my mom. Him and I talked Sunday morning, and he seemed absolutely at the end of his rope. Husband jokingly told my dad he could move in, too. To which he declined.
Not sure where to go from here, but we're getting some ring cameras installed once they arrive. And everyone but my dad is blocked. Hopefully they all just leave us alone.  
Nothing New To Report: February 2, 2024
Had a lot of DMs for updates, but don't have much anything to report on. The moms are behaving themselves. All's quiet on the western front. Felt weird ignoring or copy/pasting "no updates" to everyone, so here's what we've been doing, should anyone care.
Dad got a new bird/squirrel feeder from Amazon (looks like a little picnic table for a child's dolly but has a mesh top for the bird seed. I think it's supposed to be for chickens?) It's totes adorbs. To his horror, it also works as a Cooper hawk feeder, so now he's "fortifying his defenses" and putting up some trellises around it. He'll have to wait till warmer weather before planting anything to grow on them.
We had some ring cameras installed and put in a motion-activated camera that double functions as a light bulb. It goes in the light fixture outside the front door and is pretty cool. Video quality isn't all that great, but it's a nice addition I guess. It does overlook the bird feeders, so I've been watching it on my lunch breaks on the days I have to go into the office.
Hubby and brother are feuding. They started a coop farm in Stardew Valley a few days ago and they both want to romance Leah. My husband confided in me that he's also been romancing Sebastian as a backup. I'm not sure why he's keeping this a secret, but he's pretty smug about it.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
fractal_frog I hope your dad can outsmart the hawks!

OOP: He'll be able to, I just know it. He's used to dealing with the wildlife and having hawks about, but he just wasn't expecting one to snag a meal right from his new feeder.
I told him it was "technically" still a bird feeder. Just....for bigger birds. Which he thought was funny. He said he might make a little "no hawks allowed" sign to put up next to it.

MissOP: keep the updates coming. the moms are so close to folding it's just a little bit more. LMAO also, the bro mance between your husband and brother is so cute. lol Honestly, I think your husband making sure he has a side piece of Sebastian is absolutely the play.

OOP: So far still no word from the moms, but I hope you're right. I would love an apology and for us to begin moving past this. But I NEED that apology. I feel selfish saying that, but I refuse to "be the bigger person" on this. I just won't.
As for my brother and husband, yeah, they're basically soul mates. The two hit it off immediately when they first met, and they've been thick as thieves for years.  

Update: February 27, 2024
My dad came out for a visit over the weekend. We had a good time and the weather was lovely for some grilling and beers. It was really nice to see him again and he seemed healthy and in good spirits.
Here's his report from back home: Step mom (dad's wife) has started to realize she's screwed up. I credit her change of mindset to the fact that my dad sat her down and laid it out for her: she leaves his kids alone, or she's getting divorce papers. That apparently shut her up right quick, because they had a prenup done when they married and I'm not sure the details of it, but it wouldn't end favorably for her. She hasn't worked in years, so I imagine she'd be eligible for alimony? But I'm not versed in any of that legal mumbojumbo. Dad didn't seem too worried about it, so I'm not gonna worry about it.
Step dad was pissed the police were involved in the last "mom visit" (despite no one getting arrested or anything) and was in a "the kids are out of control and need to be reigned back in" mindset. When my dad pointed out that "the kids" in question were all in their mid-30s, it took some of the steam out of stepdad's sails. According to my dad, even my mom looked a little surprised when he said that. So, part of me is wondering if a good chunk of this whole thing is my mom not truly realizing that her kids were grown, and no longer children she could make demands of. Both of the moms have left us alone. I expected my mom to continue to kick up a fuss, but I think the cops spooked her.
There was a wonderful suggestion by a comment or to get their pastor involved, which I passed along to my dad. Dad has since spoken to their pastor about everything. He's a young guy, relatively new to their church, and joked that his first month on the job he had to do 3 funerals in a row and his new "flock" were just dying to get away from him, so he's got a sense of humor which is nice. The new pastor agreed to sit down with everyone and help the family hash it all out in a true "Come to Jesus" type moment next month, so that maybe we could celebrate Easter together as our first holiday as a family. Dad said the pastor was aware our family was having some troubles, but unsure of exactly what was going on, and since he was new, the pastor didn't want to pry. He has also agreed to do a small service down at my uncle's maple grove later in the summer, as it usually floods and is a muddy mess all spring. According to my dad, my aunt and uncle are so over all the drama and just ready to move on, so I expect hugs and apologies from them when we next meet.
Stardew Valley Update: My brother was victorious in the grand fight for Leah. It was a hard battle. Well fought. When my husband exposed his plans to woo Sebastian all this time, it was quite the betrayal. Dramatics aside, their farm is really cute and I'm so happy they're enjoying the game!  
Update 4/1 - Final one I think - April 1, 2024
Happy April Fools everyone! I hope you all check your caramel apples for stray onions before taking a bite! I also hope your Easter weekend was a delightful one.
It is with great joy that I tell you all about our most recent update! Possibly even a conclusion to this whole ordeal.
The entire family (aunt, uncle, moms, dads, brother, me, husband) and pastor met at my dad's house and we all sat down to hash the situation out. As expected from what my dad said, my aunt and uncle greeted us all with apologies and hugs, which was nice. My uncle usually helps host the Easter egg hunts with the church and he brought our Easter baskets to give to us in case us kids weren't sticking around the for the weekend. I'm not sure why but seeing it made me tear up and feel stupid, because it was just a basket of candy but it meant a lot to me for some reason.
The pastor led us in a prayer and talked about forgiveness and such. He then asked us all to talk one at a time about how we're feeling and what we want the end result of today to be. No one was allowed to interrupt so everyone got to talk. It was nice. The consensus for the group was that most everyone wanted things to go back to "normal". The only ones who had any variance off this was my mom and step dad. They both wanted all us kids to move back to the area.
The pastor asked them why they wanted us back, and neither could give a good reason other than "because family", and the pastor asked us if we were thriving where we were. And we said we were. He asked if we were happy there. Which we were. He then asked my mom and step dad if they wanted us to give up our happiness to make them happy.
And Mom broke down and said no. We all had a good cry. The pastor then asked about the funeral and lies that led up to it and followed it and how it made us all feel and what we wished we'd done differently if we had the chance. It was all very emotional, but in a good way, you know? Everyone apologized and admitted they f-ed up and did a really crappy thing.
We all talked for a long, long time and the pastor was a great mediator. Eventually we all reached some sort of resolution and I think we're good now. Emotions are still high and a little raw in areas, but we stayed for Easter weekend and had a nice time. We're going to keep moving forward slowly and try to repair the relationship, but I believe we're well and truly out of the woods.
As for my brother, he's still staying with us, and mom will stop trying to guilt trip him back home. He's thinking about renting a small apartment in our area but we're not pushing him to make a decision. He knows he's welcome to stay as long as he wants. I think he wants to try dating (he's had a few girlfriends but never anything serious) and is embarrassed to bring any girls around our place, lol. He's been going to a few random classes/bookclubs at the local library for something free to do and hitting it off with all the little old ladies who attend, and they keep trying to hook him up with girls his age who they know. He has been on a few lunches/coffee dates with a couple girls, but I think he's too embarrassed by the attention to give it a real try at "dating" any of them. He's happy, though, which is all I could ask for.
I'm not sure if there will be any more updates, as I think it's all be resolved about as much as it can be at the moment. I wanted to thank you all for your words of advice and giving me a place to vent and scream into the void. Please be kind to one another and to yourselves. Thank you.
Relevant Comments
emjkr: What a nice and hopeful update, I’m really glad you stuck to your guns when everyone threw sanity out the window!
But, could your mother explain how she thought this would work out in her favour?

OOP: I don't think mom thought too far ahead. I believe she assumed it would all just magically work out the way she wanted it to. She said she wasn't sure what she was expecting to happen (which I think was a lie, but I wasn't going to push it).

mak_zaddy: This was a great update! But ummmmmm no stardew valley update? What gives? Has Sebastian been woo’ed? How’s Leah? What’s happening?

OOP: Sebastian has indeed been wooed (and whoohooed) There's kids and cows and chickens. The two are still having a wonderful time at the game. They're working on completing the community center but it's slow going as they aren't trying to speedrun and just doing things as they want. I believe they're thinking about going into the desert mines once they complete that bundle, but they're both super chicken shit about it!

-my-cabbages: I don't really understand what you had to apologize for ... but I'm glad you're happy and the situation seems to be settling down

OOP: There wasn't much of an apology on my end, as everyone agreed I had done nothing wrong. Mine was more of a "I'm sorry you didn't feel as though I would listen." Type apology, which I don't really believe is a proper apology because apologies like that push the blame back on another. I mostly expressed my feelings and the shock of it all, and how betrayed I felt.  

----NEW UPDATE----

Small, happy update: May 7, 2024 (1 month later)
Things as wonderful as the moment. Still doing baby steps with The Moms. We're texting and talking on the phones more, which is nice. Very civil.
Dad "accidentally" bought a bunch of hand crafted bird feeders at a craft fair. By accidentally, I mean: he had a little too much fun in the beer tent, went for a stroll while step mom wasn't looking, and stumbled upon a guy's booth and bought "one of each". He wouldn't tell me how MANY "one of each" was, but he cackled like a witch when I asked. Step mom said she's forcing him to give a few to me, so I'm expecting a delivery or a Dad-visit any day now.
My brother is officially "going steady" with a girl. We've met her a few times and she seems like a real sweetheart. She's our age and has a little boy (5-6 years old, I haven't asked) from a previous relationship (The dad's not in the picture from what I can gather). She's the granddaughter of one of his Book Club members, so the old ladies made good match makers in the end. The relationship is still very new and I'm routing for them.
No new Stardew Valley updates. Work has been a little crazy lately and I haven't been able to play much of anything, and brother has been distracted by his new lady friend. So, husband finally started Baldur's Gate 3, and fell for Gale's "magic trick" so now those two are a thing. I expect him to be sufficiently distracted from reality for the next few weeks.
 

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

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

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I'm pretty sure I'm going to be dead in the next 24 hours.
Whether that's the Costella family, or whatever this is, I'm not sure.
The police are taking forever, and part of me knows they're either refusing to believe me, or RC got them too.
I'm holed up on our school bus, so I've got nothing better to do.
I want to tell you about my team.
We met in our sophomore year.
Strangers standing outside the club room.
Levi was the freckled brunette who wouldn't stop talking about Game of Thrones.
Sunny, a pretty redhead, told him to shut up.
Tom, a sandy blonde, nodding his head to music corked in his ears.
I just wanted to be part of a club, and get away from my overbearing mother.
I won't say it was a perfect start. Our school was lacking in funding, so anyone could join, which made us more of a Quiz Club. I had some serious anxiety, so I stayed on the sidelines for a while, watching, rather than taking part.
It's not like we actually talked to each other initially. The first few weeks, we played Jeopardy, and attempted to find more members to cement us as an official Academic Decathlon club.
Unfortunately, though, it was just the four of us.
Which made it extremely hard for us to be taken seriously.
According to Google, Academic Decathlon teams were made up of nine members, placed by their GPA.
Our principal laughed at us, but he did let us become official.
Which was out of pity, I assumed.
The club was assembled, and we started meeting up after school.
Sort of.
Sunny barely showed up, and Levi didn't take anything seriously, preferring to spend the time telling us about his weird family turf-war.
Our principal dumped us in a tiny classroom with a resident rat living under the floorboards.
There was barely enough room to move, and the four of us crammed together for three hours was less than appealing.
Still, though, I wanted to be part of a club.
I had grown up with parents who were obsessed with board games, so I was pretty good at general knowledge questions. Our club room was too small for anything else but three desks (Sunny and I shared one) and a whiteboard we had to shove through the door.
But, again, we didn't start as an Academic club.
It was more akin to Story Time Club.
Arriving late on my third day, armed with quiz cards from home, I found Tom and Sunny completely mesmerised by Levi’s storytelling skills, drowned in shadow.
They didn't even turn the lights on.
I strictly remember squeezing next to Sunny, and hearing the words, “But there was so much blood all over the floor, and my Mom told me to go upstairs and hide under the bed…”
Sitting in front of them was Levi, perched on a desk, his legs swinging, a whiteboard marker between his teeth.
Sometimes he'd get up, and illustrate parts of his story.
It sucked that his drawings were all stick people.
I won't go into full details of his life, but Levi grew up as part of a family who had… interesting methods of making a living. I had seen the guy’s father multiple times when we hung out at his place, and, yeah, my friend’s family definitely had Soprano vibes.
Levi’s Draw My Life was nothing to do with the club, but it did bring us closer.
Even if, at that point, I was considering leaving.
But it's not like it was easy to walk away from these guys. It's like finding your soulmates. Levi wasn't the only one with an interesting life. Sunny Lang was an ex kpop trainee, who was kicked out for being too fat, which led her to develop a severe eating disorder, and a hatred for her own body.
Sunny explained her family were originally from Boston, her mother growing up in Korea.
She signed up for an idol agency focusing on creating a new girl group, and had gotten all the way to the final stages, before being kicked for her weight. Sunny told us her story with a smile, though there was a hollowness in her eyes I couldn't ignore. The other girls were judgemental bullies, and the idol diet and brutal regime almost killed her.
Sunny lived in a tiny apartment with 9 girls, who would tear each other apart for a chance to debut. Sunny said all the other girls debuted, and when we (not so patiently) asked for names, she shrugged, admitting she signed an NDA that prevented her spilling the beans.
What she did say, was the K-pop idol is a product, not a person– and are made and moulded into a product.
She had zero interest in throwing her humanity away to become a manufactured doll.
So, one of us was the son of an underground family, and the other was an ex idol.
Tom was an aspiring horror writer with a famous older step-brother.
His story times were usually, That one time I went to the Met Gala.
When it was my turn to reveal my story, I told them the only interesting thing about me.
I could smell when something bad was going to happen.
They laughed, but I was being serious.
When I was a kid, I smelled my mother’s brain tumor.
I remember it smelled like curdled milk.
I asked Mom why her head smelled of mouldy milk, and Mom laughed and said it was her shampoo.
It was actually a grade two tumor growing inside her brain.
Thankfully, the tumour was found quickly and removed.
Growing older, I became sensitive to smell. The little girl choking on the bus smelled of singed wood, and the old man crossing the road stunk of gasoline.
In the fourth grade, my classmate Alex Castor smelled of lemons all morning.
I sat behind him, choking on the stink all the way through class.
Ever since I met him, Alex had always smelled… off.
It was a distinct smell I could never understand, and as the days and months and years went by, that smell morphed into a subtle orangey musk that was so strong I had to cover my mouth and nose. Then, he smelled like lemons.
During Recess, I watched Alex fall off of the jungle gym, straight onto his head.
Alex Castor was dead before the paramedics arrived, my panicked teacher attempting CPR when his brains were leaking out of his ears.
The school claimed it was an accident, but Alex would have been fine if the jungle gym wasn't built on solid concrete.
I told my team members this, and Levi was sceptical.
“You can smell bad things?” He said, his lips curved around his milkshake straw. In the early days, we hung out in the local bar. It's not like we were allowed inside, but Levi could get us in anywhere.
I was squeezed between Tom and Sunny, while Levi took the seat opposite us. I couldn't help noticing our waitress was insisting on free milkshake refills, her frantic eyes glued to Levi.
I had zero idea why. Levi Costella was about as intimidating as a fruit fly.
Wearing a white shirt with a popped collar, a leather jacket thrown over the top, Levi was giving rebellious Harvard student, rather than son of a crime family.
Leaning forward, he raised a brow, clearly not believing me.
“So, you're like a stink psychic?”
I shrugged, sipping my own shake.
“Sure.”
I wasn't planning on telling him the club room smelled off on our first day.
Once we actually started the club, Levi surprised us as the smartest member, and getting to know him further, I came to the realization his family were infamous in our town.
However, his parents hid it well. Lucy and Michael Costella were the owners of a popular ramen store in our town, hiding under the facade of two successful business owners. The Costella’s were an attractive family.
Lucy was a sophisticated brunette with a lipstick smile, Michael, a handsome fluffy haired man who looked like he modelled glasses.
The two were fiercely protective over their youngest son, not so casually reminding us behind grinning smiles, that if anything happened to Levi, we would automatically be involved in the family.
I mean, they did laugh and say, “We’re joking! Look at your little faces!” when Sunny went deathly pale. But there was definitely truth behind their words.
Being Levi’s friend was… challenging at first.
Tom and I were in his room studying for finals, and an alarm went off, flooding Levi’s room in red light.
I had zero idea where it was coming from, but it locked all the doors and windows, forcing the Costella residence into temporary lockdown. Levi didn't seem fazed, casually mentioning his parents were taking care of it.
He had a whiteboard set up in his room, and was standing in front of it, cramming all of our textbook notes into one easily digestible drawing.
Levi wasn't just smart.
He was Ivy League smart, so we had struck gold with him.
His family were questionable, and yes, sometimes I did fear for my life, but as the more time we spent at his house, the Costella household became a second home. We got used to the alarms.
I just brought along ear plugs.
I wish I was writing this post about Levi’s family, and sure, they are a factor in what is going on right now, but I want to preface this by saying the events below involve the 2024 scholastic decathlon final in our town with the school’s listed:
Starbrook High School.
Ratcliffe High School.
Please note, the incident that took place last night was immediately covered up, and all phone footage was destroyed. Our town is mostly out of the way, and does not show up on Google searches.
We also have our own version of the academic decathlon, which is a more town-level competition, due to lacking funds. The four of us were desperate to start competing with our schools.
So, we started taking things a little more seriously.
We got a coach.
Mr Hanes, who was hesitant at first.
In his words, “You will hate me as your coach.”
He started by recruiting more members, announcing, “If you want to be taken seriously as an actual club, then I'll be taking the reins from now on.”
He did, and with our teachers guidance (and sometimes brutal honesty), we reached a level where we could start competing with other school’s in town. Now, none of us knew this, but Mr Hanes was obsessed with winning.
So, club meetings were twisted into two hour study sessions with no talking, followed by Mr Hanes Jeaprody, which was Jeaprody, without the actual fun.
We were quizzed multiple times, answer cards and practise questions quite literally thrown directly in our faces.
I hate to admit this (I really hate to admit this) but Mr Hanes’s tactics worked. Sure, we had been mildly brainwashed by our slightly unhinged coach, but with Levi Costella, we destroyed our competitors. Like I said, our town held their own version of the academic scholastic decathlon, but it was pretty much the same, with some changes.
Ten subjects. Language and Literature, Math, Social Science, Economics, Art, Music, Interview, Speech, and Essay.
Unlike the official Decathlon, ours was more like a game show, with the ability to be knocked out if a team member answers a question wrong. Whoever answers the most questions correctly wins. Team meet ups were either tests, study sessions, or quizzing each other.
Which leads me to last night.
The finals were held in the reigning champions, Ratcliffe High School’s, auditorium.
And we were about to win our town’s Scholastic Decathlon 2024 Championships.
Well…I was knocked out in the music section. Standing next to my coach who I was sure was going to asphyxiate from excitement, I could smell the sudden potent stink of lemon. I tried to ignore it at first, but the more questions my team were answering correctly, the smell got worse, suffocating my senses.
This wasn't just lemon. The stink was like a burning, singing smell trickling into my nose and the back of my throat.
It was stronger than what Alex smelled like.
This was suffocating, drowning my thoughts.
“Are you okay, Cassandra?”
Mr Hanes nudged me when a Ratcliffe girl was struggling to answer a question, only for Sunny to jump in with the answer. “You look quite pale.”
I nodded, forcing a smile.
My gaze was on the Ratcliffe coach, a scary looking blonde woman, whispering in one of her student’s ears.
The Ratcliffe kid freaked me out. He was way too tall, dark blonde hair, and bulging eyes I swear were not blinking.
His gaze was glued to Levi, who wore a smug grin.
There was a smaller girl next to the Ratcliffe kid, a Macbook balanced on her knee. Every so often, he leaned into her, the two of them in deep conversation.
“I'm just nervous.”
I jumped when Ratcliffe scored a point, their side erupting into cheers.
During the break, we had a mini team meeting.
Sunny rushed to the bathroom to freshen up, and I noticed a Ratcliffe girl with a bouncing ponytail following her.
Ignoring our coach’s speech, I joined the two girls in the corridor, that lemony scent hanging thick in the air.
I caught them in an awkward position.
The Ratcliffe girl had her fingers pinched between the material of Sunny’s dark blue shirt bearing our school’s name.
Sunny looked confused, her lips parted like she was going to yell.
Ponytail dropped her hand, suddenly, with a nervous laugh. “Oh! I'm so, so, sorry,” she gushed. “You had, like, the biggest spider crawling on your back.”
Sunny caught my eye, shooting me a reassuring smile.
“Thanks.” She made sure to keep her distance. “Uh, where's your bathroom?”
The Ratcliffe girl nodded down the hallway. “It's just down there. I'm going there too if you want me to show you?”
Sunny motioned for me to go back to the auditorium. “Uh, sure! That'd be great!”
I did try to follow them, only for Sunny to cough loudly.
I took the hint, reluctantly heading back into the auditorium.
My team was hyping each other up, Levi in the centre, sweating through his team shirt. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I can't do this,” He groaned. “Ratcliffe High is known to play dirty, man. They're unbeatable.”
“In what way do they play dirty?” I asked, joining them.
Levi gulped down water, shrugging.
“I dunno! They're already trying to distract me with the stink eye.” The boy narrowed his eyes at a grinning Ratcliffe kid who, after noticing our stares, jumped to his feet, waving at us.
“Hey guys!”
“That's Harry Cartwright, the son of the Cartwright family who tried to kill my parents in the third grade.” Levi mockingly waved back. “As you can see, their kid is a fucking sociopath.”
Huh. I wasn't expecting the smiley kid to be the mobster’s son.
Harry Cartwright was not what I expected.
Unlike his team members, he was the only one in casual clothing, a short sleeved white shirt and jeans, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head.
Tom went pale.
“Fuck.” He hissed. “He’s one of you? Then those bastards will have a reason to play dirty, right?”
Levi shrugged, averting his gaze. It was the first time I saw his eyes darken, like he was subtly telling the boy to back off.
“The Cartwright’s have been trying to buy our land for a while,” he muttered. “I wouldn't put it past them to use the Decathlon as a way to attack.”
“Attack?!” April, another member of our team, hissed. “Like, attack attack?”
Mr Hanes grabbed the boy, resting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. “Ignore them,” he said. “Hey. Look at me.”
Levi did, raising a brow.
“You're losing that spark in your eye, young man.”
“Spark?”
Our coach nodded. “Look at me, kid.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “I am looking at you, Mr Hanes.”
The man was shaking. I was guessing his whole career (or coaching career) was on the line.
“They know they're losing, Mr Costella.”
Hanes shook the boy, squeezing his shoulders. “You are being positive and Ratcliffe doesn't like that. They want you to be nervous. They want to make you second guess yourself and lose confidence. Don't let them get into your head.” he smiled, giving the boy a playful shove. “Kick their asses.”
“Exactly!”
I didn't realize Sunny was back from the bathroom.
The faint smell of lemons had followed her. I noticed a wet patch on her shirt collar, though she was quick to smile at me, admitting she'd spilled water down herself. Sunny wrapped her arms around Levi, squeezing him into a hug.
She hung on for a little too long, Tom dragging her away with a laugh. “Good luck, all right?” she backed away, ruffling his hair. “We’ve got this!”
When I hugged Levi good luck too, I had to resist covering my nose.
The smell of lemon was unbearable, just like fourth grade Alex.
But it wasn't as potent as earlier.
I vaguely remembered the smell starting to fade once Alex’s body was being carted away on a stretcher.
Following my captain through the crowd, I was right. The smell was less suffocating. Before he went back to the stage, I grabbed the back of his shirt.
The material was soaking wet.
“How are you so wet?” I said, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“Huh?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Do you remember what I told you in sophomore year?”
Levi settled me with a confident, but nervous smile. “Thaaaat you're scared of clowns?”
“No. I mean the boy who smelled of lemons.” I gritted out.
Levi surprised me with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
Levi did know what I was talking about. He brought up my stink sense a day earlier in front of his parents, and I had to cover his mouth to shut him up.
Leaning close, I whispered in his ear. “You stink of rotten lemons.”
He nodded slowly, pulling away. “Uh… thanks?”
I bit back a hiss of frustration. “No, you don't understand what I'm saying–”
“Starbrooke High School,” The host announced. “Can all members please return to the stage.”
Levi held up his hand for a high five.
“Can we do this later?” He winked. “I'm kinda busy carrying this spelling-bee on my back right now.”
I nodded shakily, high fiving him, and letting him jump back onto the stage.
Before his words hit like a tidal wave, ice cold water slammed into me.
Spelling Bee?
Slowly making my way back to the stands, Levi’s mistake was circling around my head. He did win a spelling bee, but that was in middle school.
Thankfully, the smell of lemons was gone when I returned to my seat.
Mr Hanes handed me a soda. “Chill out, Cassandera, it's just a game.”
He could talk. The guy was on his fifth coffee.
Mr Hanes was not chilled out in the slightest.
Surprisingly, the event went well. I was half expecting my team to be crushed by the rafters, or caught in a blaze started in the crowd. But we were doing well. No, we were winning.
Reaching the climaxing round, Sunny choked against a smug Ratcliffe boy, joining me on the sidelines.
Levi answered the next question with a confident smile.
We were winning, but Ratcliffe could still catch up with a miracle.
The second to last question was to Ratcliffe, and it was general knowledge.
”Where on the human body would one find the *orbit?*
I knew the answer, and so did Levi, his lips breaking out into a smile when the Ratcliffe boy was hesitating, eyes wide.
Our school’s buzzer went off, Levi slamming his hand down.
Bzzz!
The host turned to our team. “Starbrooke, can I have your answer?”
Levi nodded, shooting our team a victory grin.
“It's…!“ He opened his mouth to answer, his jaw slackening suddenly.
The boy’s shoulders slumped.
“Uh… “
“Um…”
“Huhhhhh…”
Levi inclined his head, blinking, his eyes glazing over. There was a sudden, hollow vacancy that sent chills down my spine. It was like someone had reached into his skull, and yanked out his brain, leaving a shell in his place.
To my confusion, our team captain frowned at his buzzer like he'd never seen one before. He pressed it, exploding into child-like giggles.
Bzzz!
The audience laughed along nervously.
Tom nudged me. “What the fuck is he doing?”
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz!
Levi’s entire body was slumped, his hand slamming down on the buzzer.
I caught something pooling down his chin.
“Is he… drooling?” I whispered.
Mr Hanes looked mildly horrified. “Has he been drinking?
“Levi?” Tom spluttered. “Drinking?!"
Whatever we were watching, however, was definitely influenced by… something.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz!
“Young man, that is not a toy!”
The host wasn't amused. “Starbrooke High School, I need an answer from you,” He nodded to Levi, who was pressing the buzzer, his smile growing.
“Once again,” The host backed away, like Levi was contagious. “Where on the human body would one find the Orbit?”
Levi cocked his head, lips parted.
His gaze found the overhead lights, and he winced, his lips curling into a frown.
“Starbrooke High School!”
Levi jumped, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry. “Palm tree?”
The audience laughed, and I started feeling nauseous.
Across from us, I could see the twist of a smirk on the Ratcliffe coach’s lips.
Bzzz! Levi slammed the buzzer again giggling.
“Starbrooke High School, if your team member continues to act like this, I will be forced to disqualify all members.”
Our captain stopped, gaze glued to the host, his hand creeping towards the buzzer, like it was a big red button.
The audience loved it, laughing like they were watching a sitcom.
“He wouldn't.” Tom whisper-shrieked.
The auditorium was silent for a moment, awaiting Starbrooke’s response.
Levi stuck out his tongue, slamming his hand down.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz–
When Tom dragged Levi away from his podium, a Ratcliffe girl hit her buzzer.
“Starbrooke High School, you are disqualified,” the host announced. “Ratcliffe High School, do you have an answer?”
It was Ponytail who nodded with a grin.
“The answer is the eye socket! The Orbit is part of the eye socket!”
“That is the correct answer.” The host was distracted, his eyes glued to Levi.
“Ratcliffe High School wins.”
Levi jumped when the Ratcliffe wide erupted into cheers.
His eyes were wide, clinging onto the buzzer for comfort.
Next to me, our coach looked like he was going to faint.
I barely noticed Ratcliffe’s victory, too busy watching our team captain, who was Harvard bound, tipping his head back and smiling at the ceiling like a new-born baby. Tom dragged the stumbling boy over to me, his mouth twisted.
“This was Ratcliffe, right?” He hissed, shaking our captain, who was struggling, squirming in his grip.
“Did they put something in his drink?!” He prodded Levi. “Hey! What did they do to you?!”
Still, though, drugging his drink didn't make sense.
Levi never left the auditorium, and kept his water bottle with him the whole time.
How did they even manage to slip something into his drink in the first place?
Did I smell our competitors drugging him?
Sure, intentionally inebriating my teammate was morally wrong and illegal, but why could I smell lemon?
“I doubt it was Ratcliffe.” Sunny squeezed next to me. “I've been watching them. They're harmless.”
“Then how the fuck do we explain this to his parents?!” Tom whispered, grappling with Levi, who was fighting to get back to the buzzer.
When Tom let go of him, he dropped onto the floor, crawling over to his podium. It was like watching a child.
Who was determined to piss off the adults.
Levi jumped back to instead feet, his gaze was glued to the host, a smile curved on his lips, when he slammed the buzzer again.
Bzzz!
“Someone, please remove the Starbrooke boy from the stage!”
I was embarrassed, our whole team ducking our heads as our captain was forcibly removed from the podium.
Mr Hanes grabbed Levi, pulling him off of the stage.
I expected our coach to be mad at him, but I think the teacher was more worried, a phone pressed to his ear while he forced the boy into a sitting position.
No, I don't think it's influence from alcohol, I could hear his conversation.
Levi kept trying to get up, mesmerised by the buzzer. The teacher was firm but gentle. “Hey. Sit down, all right? Keep still.” He went back to his phone call, gently prying Levi’s eyes open.
From what I can see, there's nothing wrong. He's just kind of…
Mr Hanes swiped his own hands on his jeans. ... wet?
Team Ratcliffe came over to rub it in our faces, though I was still tuned into our coach’s hissed whispering.
Water? No, I don't think it's water. It smells… no, I haven't told his parents…
“You guys did awesome!” Ponytail's voice was sugary sweet. Too sugary.
She held the 2024 trophy, bearing a satisfied smile. I noticed the Ratcliffe members were surrounding Harry, like guards.
“Better luck next time, okay?” She held out her hand, her eyes twinkling.
“No hard feelings?”
“Control your dog.” Harry said, amused eyes flicking to Levi, who was once again sprinting back to the fucking buzzer. His eyes had visibly darkened, lips curled into a triumphant smile.
Harry Cartwright was watching Mr Hanes chase our team captain like it was his own personal entertainment.
I had to look away before I died of second hand embarrassment.
“What did you put in his drink?” Tom demanded. “Weed? Edibles?” the boy attempted to shove Harry, only to be pushed back. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
Harry’s smile didn't waver. “Like I said. Control your mut.”
When the Ratcliffe team walked away, our red faced coach struggling with Levi, who was behaving progressively more erratically, informed us we were longer welcome inside the school.
Tom suggested calling an ambulance, but our coach was hesitant.
We all knew who Levi’s family were.
On the way out, Tom matched my stride. He was frowning at our team captain struggling to walk.
The way he was acting was already eyebrow raising.
But walking at an angle and being unable to stand up straight was worrying.
“I don't think they drugged his drink.” Tom muttered.
We pushed through the doors out of the school, and I revelled in the cool night air grazing my cheek. “If they did, he would be acting out of it, right? So, what's the deal with him acting like–”
“A child.” I finished for him.
“Yeah.” Tom leaned closer. “Do you think this has something to do with their turf war?”
I slapped at a bug creeping across my cheek.
Levi fell over again, this time bursting into giggles.
“Almost definitely.”
Levi was right about Ratcliffe playing dirty. I didn't realize how dirty until we were on the losers bus home. Levi was in the seat next to me, and the kid hadn't moved since we left Ratcliffe, his eyes wide, lips pulled into a dazed grin.
Bzzz!
The noise startled me from slumber. I was drooling, my head pressed against the window. Outside, the sky was pitch dark, and squinting through the glass, I couldn't get a bearing on where we were. I thought I was hearing things, but when I sat up, I heard it again.
Bzzz!
It was close.
Leaning over the boy, I glimpsed a smear of scarlet on his headrest.
I choked on my next words.
“Tom.”
Tom was in front of me, listening to music.
He didn't reply, his head of dark blonde curls nodding to the beat.
“Levi.” I managed to get out. I prodded him, and his head lolled into his shoulder. “Hey. Can you… sit up?”
Bzzz! Bzzz!
When the boy didn't move, I gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward myself, something contracting in my stomach.
I don't know how long it takes for your mind to fully register something, but my body was already reacting.
Levi’s seat was infested with bugs, eating their way through the upholstery. I was aware of my body moving back. I threw up, instantly, screaming into my hand.
The back of my best friend's skull resembled a deflated soccer ball, what was left of his brain leaking from his skull where a swarm of skittering bugs chewed their way through brain tissue, metallic legs scratching the curved, pearly white of the base if his skull.
Levi’s head hung, his body flopping into mine.
But his eyes were still open, lips still stretched into a smile.
Blood ran in thick rivulets from his nose and ears.
Bzzz!
I could see them, black writhing dots alive in his eyes, wriggling movement under his skin.
“Tom!”
I jumped up, stumbling into the aisle, my stomach heaving.
And it was only when I was on my knees, swiping bile from my lips, when I realized the others weren't reacting.
Tom wasn't moving.
I pulled an Airpod out of his ear, a long, slithering string of pink attached to the end.
There was a stray bug skittering across his hand, his face starting to twitch and writhe.
Moving back, I checked myself over, my hands shaking.
Head.
Shoulders.
Hair.
Clawing through it, my breath was stuck in my throat.
Arms.
Legs.
Feet.
Mr Hanes was slumped against the window, a reddish froth bubbling from his mouth.
Sunny.
I started towards the back of the bus, but all I had to see was her bowed head, half of her skull chewed through.
Sunny was in a far more deteriorated state, her face had been ripped through, a skeletal smile glinting in the dim.
The thick black smear on the window next to her was moving.
When I screamed for the driver to stop the bus, he ignored me.
If anything, he stamped on the gas.
I moved forward to shake him, before glimpsing a bug creeping down his face.
Calling 911, the operator laughed at me.
“Bugs are eating your friends.” He said. “Do you know the penalty for calling with bullshit pranks?”
The bus didn't stop, so I stayed at the front, while the bugs took over the back, eating through my teammates.
After four hours, I risked leaning over the seat next to Tom to check on Levi.
They were eating him.
Chewing all the way through skin, muscle and bone.
I tried to stop the bus, but the driver’s hands were tightly wrapped around the wheel.
Another hour, and blood was seeping down the aisle, crawling with bugs.
Levi was gone, and in his place, a buzzing skittering pile of bugs, that I thought were going to move to a second victim, maybe burrowing into the seats.
But, no.
These things began to tremble, replicating.
Building.
Slowly, nothing became static, and static became muscle.
Then bone.
Then flesh.
When a body began to slowly form, moulded from the dead boy, I stumbled back.
These things weren't eating Levi Costella.
They were rewriting him.
…
Edit: I'm still on the bus. I'm 99.9% sure that I'm infected with whatever this thing is. I can't stop fucking itching.
I keep picking them off me but they won't stop. This bus isn't going to stop until I'm like the others.
…
Edit 2:
I can feel them chewing into my skull. They're in my ears. I keep spitting them out. Please, someone get them off of me. Help me. I don't want to die at 17.
Edit 3:
Still alive. Still breathing. Maybe they're leaving me alone????? I think I'm okay. There is a pile of bugs at my feet, but they're crawling off of me.
Edit 4:
Levi really wants to go home. Like, he just told me he REALLY wants to go home. He's got a gift for his parents.
~~Edit 5 :) ~~
Levi is next to me right now, an odd smile on his face.
The bugs are not finished building him yet, but he'll be ready soon.
We will be ready soon.
Your son says hello! He is a wonderful boy, is he not?
Mr and Mrs Costella, I cannot wait for you to meet him.
He is our greatest achievement, and rest assured, you will give us what we want.
Warm regards.
The Cartwright's.

Me and Lila always carved dozens of jack o’ lanterns every October, so they’d absolutely saturate our lawn on Halloween night. It was our thing. But looking back on it, now that I’ve lost her, I just feel bad for the pumpkins. I almost relate to them, somehow. The way they were carved up, had everything of substance inside of them torn out, and left as hollow, rotting shells with forced smiles.
Needless to say, I didn’t cope with her death well. I didn’t want to cope with it. I wanted the world to drown in the black sludge of my grief. I loathed the people I saw going about their lives, unaware that the world had already ended the moment Lila died. The Earth shouldn’t keep spinning. Life shouldn’t go on. Not without her.
Even my relatives bringing me along on a trip to Kauai only made it worse. The most gorgeous place on Earth, and it made me sick with hatred. Nothing that beautiful deserved to exist if Lila wasn’t ever going to get to see it. It wasn’t fair.
I thought I’d never enjoy or care about anything again. Then I discovered media preservation.
It started with taking some of Lila’s old VHS tapes to a video repair place to fix some issues with the footage before it’s digitized. The job fascinated me. In a universe based on entropy, where everything inevitably fades away and is forgotten… restoring something lost is like snatching it from the jaws of death, right? Like flipping the bird to the universe and its so-called ‘natural order’. People die, but information doesn’t have to.
Now, it doesn’t matter how small — be it some god-awful plug-and-play licensed game, or a cereal commercial from 80’s — it’s my mission to recover it in as high a quality as I’m able, and make sure it’s freely available online for as long as possible.
A couple weeks ago, I came across a big haul. Four boxes of old VHS tapes offered up on E-Bay for dirt cheap. Most of the tapes were just recordings of Cheers episodes already preserved in higher qualities, but one Maxell E-240 caught my interest.
First of all, I’d never seen one so melted. Sure, sometimes they were left in an attic too long, and the colors and audio start to degrade. But this one looked like it had survived a house fire. It was covered in soot and the smell of smoke, and had the overall shape of a chocolate bar left out in the sun a little too long.
Second was the label, which read in neat sharpie: ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇ 4,679,329 ᴍᴀʀ 8 2035.
The casing was so disfigured, I had to bust it apart just pull out the tapes and respool them in a fresh cassette. I tried to iron out the creases in the tape as best I could, but I had no illusions about it accomplishing much — the mylar surface had been irreparably warped in places by whatever fire had half-melted the thing.
Imagine my despair at the sight of that dreaded ‘ɴᴏ ꜱɪɢɴᴀʟ’. I could clearly see the tape wasn’t blank, yet no amount of adjusting the tracking or trying different TVs or VCRs accomplished anything. Just as I was about to give up, though, the thing just suddenly started playing properly at the exact instant the clock struck 3 AM, as if it had only now decided to work. My all-nighter had paid off.
I didn’t dwell on the fact that this ‘miracle fix’ had been impossible. If I’d had any sense, I’d have torn the horrid thing out of my VCR and buried it beneath holy ground. Instead, fool I was, I sat down and watched.
At first, the thing seemed unwatchable. The audio was so distorted that the show’s theme song emerged as a low, crackling, staticky wail that made my head throb, and the logo was completely indistinguishable through the flickering and interference. I thought it was a lost cause for a moment. But then a figure appeared and cleared away the static, like Moses parting the Red Sea.
It was the sight of the show’s host that hooked me. He was just… perfect. Perfect in every way. I knew it just looking at him. Infinitely handsome and likable and charismatic, and he always said the exact perfect thing. The only issue is, I don’t remember a single thing about him now, in the same way you can’t remember a dream that seemed so clear to you while you were experiencing it. He just appears in my memory as this abstract blur in a sharp suit. Yet at the time, I was awestruck, even before he said a single word.
I can’t even remember a word he said. It was like he was speaking another language, one I felt as opposed to heard. I’ll try and transcribe it as best I can into words, but know that it’s only a pathetic imitation.
“... for another night of laughs, prizes, and fun for the whole family, with your host, #####!” I noticed that the audio and visual distortion seemed to suddenly intensify the instant he said his name, rendering it completely illegible. Idiot I was, I figured that was a coincidence. “Tonight is a night of celebration, folks, because thanks to the support of loyal viewers like you, we have just been approved for, get this: two hundred thousand more seasons!”
The “live studio audience” went wild with applause. I put that in scare quotes because, as far as I could tell, besides the host, the studio seemed completely empty. As if he was standing on a plain white stage that extended outwards into infinite darkness on all sides.
“For those just joining us, the game here is simple…” He explained that this was some sort of a trivia show. Every time a guest got an answer wrong, it brought them a little closer to some sort of unspecified ‘punishment’. And if they got it right? He smirked. “Well, they get to delay the inevitable.”
I wondered what he meant by ‘inevitable’. I didn’t have to wonder long.
The host gestured to a curtain that hadn’t been there moments ago, which raised to reveal a middle-aged man. You know the type — bushy mustache, gray hair, round-rimmed glasses. Kind of guy you’d have doing your plumbing. He couldn’t look any more out of place stood up and restrained in that — what the hell is that?
I recognized that metal coffin-looking thing from a medieval torture museum I went to once. The iron maiden. The lid hung open, countless long, needle-like blades poking inwards, threaten to poke a million new holes in him if it was shut.
His situation was not lost on him. “Where… where am I? What the hell is this!?”
“Oh, lucky guess!” The host ‘joked’. More canned laughter. “I know you always loved watching those trivia shows, Malcolm? Weren’t you always sitting there, grinding your teeth, seething that it wasn’t fair? That you should be the one up on stage, winning big?”
The man paused. Even he seemed mesmerized by the unreal perfection of the host before him. “I… this is a… game show?”
“All you have to do is answer a few questions! Think you can handle that, Malcolm?” He pulled out a cue card without waiting for an answer. “And our first question! What were you doing the night of February 18th, 1998?”
The man seemed baffled. “Just… sat on my couch watching the NFL, I think? I’m not sure how I’m supposed to remember —“
He let out a startled squeal as a horrid buzzer sounded. On cue, the lid slid a third of the way closed, making him flinch. “Oooh, I’m afraid that’s the wrong answer, Frank! But you know what? I’ll give you one more chance. What were you —“
“Following a girl home!” The man cried out. “F-from the bar. There, are you happy?”
“Cor-rect!” The canned audience began cheering! “Such honesty! Now, our second question: just what were you carrying while you followed her?”
He hesitated for a little too long. And then the buzzer sounded again, and the lid slid so near to closing that its blades began poking uncomfortably against his skin. He tried to press himself against the back of the maiden as well as his restraints would allow. “Jesus! Okay! A knife, a knife!”
“Awww, if only you’d said that just a second earlier!” Another big question. “Our third question: why, Malcolm? Why did you do it?”
That set Malcolm off. He started thrashing, clawing, screaming. “Let me out of this thing, you maniac! You can’t do this to me! Do you know who I am? Is this some sort of sick joke? My lawyers will have your head for this, you—“
And then the buzzer. All of a sudden, the lid slammed shut full-force, and the man was utterly silenced save for an unnatural, drawn-out wheeze. “Another wrong answer, Malcolm! I’m afraid I was looking for: ‘because if I can’t have her, no one can’!”
I admit it. I laughed. Out of shock more than anything. How was this allowed on TV? I took it as some sort of dark comedy show, and it was kind of satisfying to see that freaky character get his comeuppance. Still, there was something unnerving to me, seeing the man’s eyes through the openings in the maiden. Wide and red and terrified. They just looked a little… too real.
But the maiden disappeared as quickly as it came, before I could dwell on it too much. “Oh, envy! Definitely one of my favorite sins.” More laughter. “Stay tuned, folks! We’ve still got a night of fun and games in store for you! But first… how’s about a word from our sponsors?”
Cut to a corporate logo which I again couldn't recognize.
“This segment was made possible by Buer Health, which has recently announced a brilliant new initiative to protect our citizens from skin cancer by removing their skin completely.”
The camera cut to a massive industrial building, resembling a solid concrete cube around 50 meters in width and height. Its surface bore arcane symbols etched using carvings of wailing, tormented faces. The host would occasionally be rendered inaudible by a deafening metallic scraping from within, though he didn’t seem to notice. The only protrusion from the building’s cubic shape was a single smokestack, belching a scarlet red smoke into the atmosphere. A queue of gaunt figures waited at the entrance, herded and coerced by their grim overseers, and there were no words to describe the procession of scarlet ghouls limping out the building’s other end.
“Owing to the nonlinearity of time, the brand new Grand Skinpeeling Machine has spontaneously appeared several years before construction deadlines, and indeed, before it was even conceived of by anyone in our timeline. People have rushed all the way from Malebolge just to try this miracle of technology out on opening day, and so far, the reviews have been stellar!”
He shoved his microphone in the face of a shambling thing that could only scarcely be called a human. Tatters of flesh clung to its exposed musculature, blowing in the wind. Its eyes were the only hint of color in that sea of bloody red, and they were wide, white and terrified. The thing screamed and wailed for as long as it could before the last tendons connecting its jaw to its face snapped, and it was left to choke and gurgle.
“An amazing wail! The results speak for themselves, folks. The Grand Skinpeeling Machine is a hit!”
So far, I was still laughing along and having a good time. The sight of the next ‘guest’, however, started making me nervous.
It was an old lady.
She couldn’t be a day younger than sixty, the sort of sweet elderly woman who in a just world would be cooking chocolate chip cookies for her grandchildren in a comfy cottage somewhere. But here she was, tied to a metal chair, eyes wide, shaking like a leaf. Unlike the last contestant, she seemed to know exactly what was happening.
“In exchange for our loving endorsement, they’ve agreed to loan us one of their star employees. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for: the Liqisma!”
Something slunk from the darkness far behind her — or perhaps it’d be more apt to say that the darkness birthed it whole-cloth. It was like a living shadow, and it took my eyes a moment to register what I was even seeing.
How do I even begin describing this creature? I could say it looked almost human, or at least like something that may have been human long ago. Or I could start with its skin, which was all black and shiny as latex and seemingly smooth on first glance, but if you looked closer you’d realize it was covered in a million tiny reptilian scales, almost like a shark. Its head was a bald man’s, utterly devoid of any distinguishing features, like the basic stock template for a human being. It was notable only for a complete lack of pupils and irises, its eyes a pure white.
Its body defied basic biology in so many key ways, I had to stare it at for what felt like an eternity just to wrap my mind around its physiology. It was at least five or six meters long, by my estimate, composed of multiple human torsos stacked one on top of the other like segments of a centipede, each melding with the ones around it at the waist and shoulders. Each torso sported a pair of short, stubby arms that propelled it with terrifying grace. It ended with a pair of human legs, perpetually bent on their knees, beneath a ‘tail’ that looked more like its coccyx was poking free from its body.
The old last could clearly hear it, and kept futilely trying to turn her head around enough to get a peek at what stood behind her. I mouthed uselessly, don’t. You don’t want to know.
“Glad you could join us again, Miss Wethersby! Judging by our ratings last week, you seemed to have been a fan favorite!”
Her voice was so soft, I could barely hear it below the static. “Oh, God. Please, why won’t you people let me go? I’ve told you, I’ve never done anything, never hurt anybody. There must be some sort of—”
He waved a hand over her, and it seemed to forcefully snap her mouth shut. “Please, Miss Wethersby, save your breath for our questions!” Another cue card. “Your first question, my friend: where did you and your husband buy your first home?”
She had to think about it for a long time. Eventually, she cried out, “Alabama! Tuscaloosa, Alabama!”
“Ding ding ding! Why, you’re already doing better than our first contestant! Next question: what breed of dog was your childhood pet?”
She had a pained look on her face as she thought. Eventually, a timer started ticking down. It wasn’t visible, so it wasn’t clear how much time she had left exactly, but the sound it made got more shrill and high-pitched with every second. “Miss Wethersby, need I remind you that we have a time limit on this show?”
A tear ran down her cheek. “I… I keep telling you people, I don’t know. I have dementia, I can’t remember, please—”
That buzzer again. “I’m afraid that was the wrong answer! Liqisma?” The old lady shuddered at the sounds of hundreds of feet drawing a little closer to her. “Now, your first grandchild. What did he look like? What color were his eyes? His hair?”
She was crying harder now, like it hurt her that she couldn’t remember something so dear to her. “I told you I can’t remember! Why are you doing this to me!?”
“If you don’t remember them, why would they remember you?” The host mocked as the buzzer sounded, and the beast drew a little closer. “Really, do you believe they still even think about you? Or do you think they’re glad that the old bag of bones isn’t there sucking up their inheritance?”
This went on for… God, it could have been an hour. I was glued to the screen all the while, frozen with terror, praying for this nightmare to just end, for her to make it out okay somehow. He poured over every little detail of the life she lived and the people she loved, delighting in how little of it she could still recall.
And the thing grew closer, and closer… until she finally felt multiple pairs of hands resting upon her shoulders. The thing was looming over her now, and a long, black tongue a few feet in length emerged from its mouth and ran trails of dark saliva over the back of her head. She looked broken down, eyes raw from crying, and I could tell by the dampness of her dress that she’d wet herself.
“Now, Miss Wethersby, our time here has been fun, but I do believe it is time for our final question. Tell me, what is the name… of your only son?”
She couldn’t even answer anymore. She just stared ahead, like her mind was a million miles away. He cackled as the buzzer sounded one final time, and threw his cue cards aside. “Thank you for playing, Miss Wethersby. Better luck next time.”
I would say the thing unhinged its jaw like a snake, but that’d be an understatement. The way the thing’s face malformed and wrinkled and stretched as it opened its maw, it no longer looked even remotely human. Its jaws must have parted at least thirty centimeters apart, revealing a second, pharyngeal pair of jaws that lashed out and gripped the woman’s skull, pulling her headlong into that darkness.
I could hear bones crunching and snapping as its throat constricted down around her body, peristaltic muscles compacting her into a meat slurry, bit by bit. Yet she just wouldn’t die. Even as her skull and upper body were already crushed and compacted, organs and muscles pressed into mulch, she still kicked her legs, twitched her fingers, let out a gurgling that must have been some attempt at screaming. She was squirming even as the beast snapped its jaw shut around the last of her, condemning her to whatever torments awaited her inside the creature.
And all the while, that horrible laughter. “Don’t worry, folks! She’ll be back next week! And the next. And the next…”
Needless to say, I wasn’t having fun anymore. In fact, I had to turn away and fight the urge to throw up. I stood, about to turn the TV off and —
“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t touch that dial, now!” I froze. There was something chilling about the way he said that, staring right into the screen as if reacting to what I was doing. I hated that grin on his face. “The real show is just beginning.”
And with the barely restrained excitement of a child on Christmas morning, he yanked back another curtain, and I recognized everything.
I recognized that crappy bootleg knockoff Always Sunny in Philadelphia jacket that was so gaudy and terrible it instantly became her favorite thing in her wardrobe. I recognized those subtle hints of slight acne she disguised as fake freckles. I recognized the way her gray eyes would remind me of those overcast mornings at the beach at Hilton Head and pointing out all the cannonball jellyfish washed up on the sands. I recognized that tattoo of the name ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ, how I’d held her all night long as she cried into my shirt after her childhood cat had died.
It was Lila.
I shuddered, gasped, fell from my seat as if I’d been punched in the stomach and the air had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be real. I was dreaming right now. I must be. I just had to wake up.
But I couldn’t wake up. Nothing I could do dispelled the sight of her curled up in that… that thing. That bronze statue of a bull, horns jutting on either side of a head that roaring silently up at the heavens, all while the love of my life was locked in its hollowed out belly, visible only through a pane of glass. I could hear her cry out in shock at where she’d found herself, and every whimper felt like it drove a knife through my chest.
The host soaked in the moment. It was ecstasy for him, the suffering of it all. He stared dead into the camera like he was looking right at me as she called, “What is this? Where am I?”
“Why, I have good news, my dear Lila! You’re exactly where every American dreams of being: you’re on TV.” He pointed to the camera. “And we have a very special guest in the audience tonight. Your very own beloved Jackson!”
I shuddered, hearing my own name ooze from his fetid lips. His façade of perfection was slipping, and there was something so profoundly ugly beneath it. Her eyes snapped to the camera, confused, despairing. “Jackson? Baby? What — what’s happening? What is this?”
I don’t know, I thought, gripping the sides of the TV so hard my knuckles turned white, but I’m going to get you out of there, baby. I’m going to find whoever did this and I’m going to bury them all so far beneath that studio that they’ll never-
“I’m afraid Jackson hasn’t joined us quite yet, my dear. But if you truly love him, surely you’ll give him a show to remember, won’t you?” He taunted her. “All I want, after all, is to ask you a few questions! In fact, I’ll offer you a special deal: get even a single answer right, and I’ll let you go free! But get one wrong and, well…”
On cue, a fire was lit beneath her. Small, smoldering for now, but she whimpered as she noticed the heat. We both realized in that instant what this was. By now, I was screaming things I can’t repeat here, and slamming my hands against the TV screen as if I could reach through and save her.
She bit her lip and acquiesced. Not like she had any room to argue. The host grinned and readied a cue card. “Your first question: where are you, Lila?”
“I… I don’t know. How am I supposed to know?”
“You do know, Lila. You know exactly where you are.” He smirked at her. “Here’s a free hint: what’s the last thing you remember, before you woke up here?
She thought about it… and choked back a sob, visibly shaking as the realization slowly settled in. “But… but why? I… I…”
The horrible wail of the buzzer cut her off. “Oooh, too bad! I’m afraid you’ve run out of time!”
Seemingly as if on its own, the fire doubled in size. Sparks licked the belly of the bronze bull, and began to ever-so-slowly heat the surface. She pawed around in the tight confines, searching for any reprieve from the scalding heat all around her as the metal grew hot like it’d been left out in the sun on a summer’s day. “Please! Oh, God, let me out of this thing! It hurts! It hurts!”
The host seemed to breathe in her pain as if stealing a moment’s indulgence. “Now that there is no doubt about where you are, my dear, let us proceed to the second question.” He switched to his next card. “Did you believe in God, in the end?”
“O-of course!” She pled her case as if she was being tried in court. “My entire life… every day I gave to the poor, helped the sick, did whatever I could to honor Hi-“
“I’m afraid you misunderstood my question. I asked, did you believe in him at the end? The very moment your pitiful little life was snuffed out?”
“I always believed! I’d never forsake Him!”
“Yes, yes, I know. You lived a good and holy life, didn’t you?” He cackled. “But what of the very end? You and your little husband were so excited to deliver your first little baby boy. But o, tragedy! It all went wrong, didn’t it? Your precious little boy didn’t make it through childbirth… and you followed closely behind.”
“That whole business with the botched pregnancy, it was… what do you call it? Ah, yes. A ‘test of faith’. And I’m afraid you failed. In your final moments, you watched the light fade from your child’s eyes, and you assumed — wisely, in my humble opinion — that no ‘kind’ and ‘loving’ God would allow something like that to happen.” He laughed. “Funny how after a lifetime of dutiful service, all it takes is one little mistake at the end… to bring you here. To us.”
I’d never seen such depths of despair in a person’s eyes. Such emptiness. Like with every word, he’d been scooping out another piece of her until she was hollow. And then that buzzer roared again, more shrill than ever, and I could barely see her little window through the smoke and flames. The belly of the bull was turning orange in places, and I could hear her flesh start to sizzle like meat on a grill. There are no words for the noises she made. No words at all.
“And our last, final question,” he continued. “What were your last words to your poor, beloved Jackson?”
“I love you!” I called out the answer. Bloody fingerprints stained the TV screen from my slamming my hands against it, as I screamed the answer over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” At some point, I forgot that there was ever a question. I was just screaming it at her as if hoping that she could hear it, that it could bring her a modicum of comfort in that place.
The buzzer sounded again. I couldn't bring myself to look. All I could hear was the roaring of the bull, and the steam rising from its bronze nostrils.
The curtain fell. Silence drowned the sound. The host dropped all pretense that he hadn’t been speaking directly to me. “Now, Jackson. You just might be one of my new favorite audience members this show had ever had. I know this must have been hard for you. But if you’ll just stay tuned, I have one more show I know you’re certain to love!”
I didn’t bother to touch the remote. After all, nothing could be worse than what I’d just seen, right?
Wrong. Horror wracked me as the curtain rose, and I saw the man chained to a chair. I pulled away like a caveman witnessing fire, cringing and stuttering, face wet with sweat. It was the sort of fear that worked its way into your bones like a bad chill, that left you shaking, teeth chattering.
It was me.
An older me, sure. But not by much. Ten years, maybe. A gaunt and hollow version of me, one twisted by ten years of depression and hard drugs. But it was unmistakable.
His eyes widened as he recognized the host. “Oh — oh God, God please no! It can’t be — oh Christ, let me out of this chair, you —“
“Come, now! We wouldn’t want to use the lord’s name in vain, would we? I mean, that would be a sin!” The host laid a hand on the other me’s shoulder. “It may have been a few years since you watched our program, but I’m sure you remember the rules, don’t you, old friend?”
The other me was wordless, on the verge of hyperventilating, just as I was. The host was giddy with delight. “Now! Our first and only question is one I’m sure our viewer will be very interested in: what sins, exactly, do you think landed you here?”
The other me tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. I could see it in his eyes. The years of self-destruction, the bitter hopelessness, the whirlpool of nihilism and vice and decay. The suffocating depths of a man. The darkness. How could he put it into words?
The sound of the buzzer was like a pig’s squeal. “Mmm, I’m afraid that our viewer is going to have to figure that out for himself! In the meantime, your punishment? Well, we wouldn’t want to spoil anything…”
The curtains slowly began to fall just as a couple other of those black, grotesque monstrosities emerged from the darkness. The curtain covered them all before I could get a good look at their obscene, twisted, asymmetrical figures. All I could hear was the crunching, the sound of skin tearing like paper, the screaming that went on for longer and louder than a human throat or vocal chords could endure.
The image and audio were beginning to distort, glitch, burn away. The tapes were physically melting as they played. My VCR was starting to overheat, sparks pouring from its front panel. The host voice jumped around in tone, his voice fading into the static blur as the tapes bubbled and boiled and distorted. “But, my friends, I’m afraid that concludes tonight’s episode of our show! So, with a final farewell to our dear, beloved viewer, Jackson…”
Just before the image melted away, the camera seemed to jump forward until his face filled the screen, his eyes piercing into mine as he cackled in that singsong voice.
“See you sooooon~”

"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemonk and welcome to my Letsplay! Today I am back from my medically mandated break from playing human videogames after a rather... cathartic experience with a game called Teardown. Subnautica, even among humans, is labeled as a notorious experience with... mixed reception for its sequel. A survival crafting game apparently. I have experience with those so presumably the gameplay loop should be predictable enough. So... Let's go in!"
Spiffle starts the game, going for standard Survival Mode, with aspects of food and water mechanics alongside health and oxygen. The game loads very, very fast with Spiffles overpowered computer, and the introduction sequence begins. The camera pans to the panicked sight of the payer character moving down a ladder followed by a sight of a starship above exploding.
"Oh dear... oh dear! They weren't kidding about survival! Do I even survive this or am I a ghost or something..."
The pod rattles, the screen shakes, a fire extinguisher falls from its mounting. Velocity causes the pod to dislodge a panel from a wall and it flies around the cabin. The panel flies into the player's screen, making it go black.
"Oh... well okay then. I uh... well."
Spiffles' character awakens and panics at the buttons securing him to the seat. Spiffle quickly figures out that fire in this game is in fact bad, and grabs the fire extinguisher, putting the fire out. The game's introduction plays, showing his PDA, the game's inventory UI.
"Oh! I have seen these things in real life when visiting human stations! Do all humans have these?"
Spiffle starts exploring the escape pod, noting all of the damage to the radio beacon and the wiring panel.
"Hmm... craft the repair tool... Well... For later I suppose. Now how do i-AH, the ladder!"
Spiffle clicks on the ladder and goes through the animation. The character exits and dramatically stands. Spiffle looks around. His face visibly pales as he looks in every direction, finding the only thing nearby that looks 'safe’ or like 'land' is the destroyed ship in the distance.
"Water... it's... water... everywhere! How big is this game's map!? Structural hull failure... zero human lifesigns detected. That's.. not nice. Well... Here we go!"
Spiffle jumps into the water. His mood changes, the underwater environment significantly different than above ground. The water is absolutely teeming with life and color, as Spiff swims towards a reef to stare at some coral. Spiff gets distracted and starts chasing a fish, specifically a Peeper, and grabs it.
"Oh! Good god! THAT'S how humans catch fish!? That's very... inefficient! What is this thing? Can I eat it? I know I'm supposed to take care of my food and water, so how do I eat it?"
Spiffle wanders about for a while, gathering resources and exploring his general location, eventually getting back to the pod. He had gathered up a decent amount of stuff while he was swimming around and accessed the Fabricator to see what was available.
"Ah! I see, the fabricator cooks things too. Uhm... cooked fish thing and... these transparent fish give me water bottles? Okay then! Well. Sorted for food anyway. Let's see. Copper wire, batteries. A Scanner? Does that mean I can like, scan things and tell what they are? And... Oxygen tank? Oh hell yes. I'll build that then."
Spiffle goes through the process of building a few things, checking out how the game's crafting system works, and spending more time collecting resources. He quickly realizes how much work he has to do and finally finishes making a Scanner.
"Okay then well... I can see how much time is going to be spent collecting resources so i'm going to edit all of that out and keep you all in the loop on all the fun parts instead."
Spiffle continues playing, inserting a creative, albeit mildly annoying fanciful scene transition in between resource loops. He comes to a cave looking for salt to make more equipment, when he encounters the first hostile enemy of the game: The Crashfish. He does not notice it at first, the strange sloppy noise it makes as its pod opens, the beast makes a terrible gurgly noise and charges straight at him.
"What is that noi-AH! OY! OI! OIIII what are you what are-!"
Spiffle is cut off as the fish explodes, causing him to lose half his health. He quickly surfaces and takes a breath.
"Okay then... OKAY... THAT... makes absolutely no sense from an evolutionary perspective... but okay then. Avoid those. What even was that? I can't even scan it because it was moving so fast! Gods... exploding fish."
Spiffle shakes his head and resumes his hunt for resources, eventually finding enough for a repair tool. He makes the repair of the pods' broken wiring and looks around a bit more, noting some of the details in the game.
"Hard to believe these games are over eight hundred years old! I keep getting requests to play 'them gud ol' gamez' instead of any new releases. Maybe I'll get to those eventually. I have quite the backlog though."
Spiffle quickly tabs out and shows the huge list of human made games on his list that he has been gifted or purchased himself. The list includes Space Marine, Starship Troopers, Spyro Trilogy, Crash Bandicoot, and so... so many more.
"I am also told about this thing called 'anime', whatever that is. Maybe I should look into that. Anyway..."
Spiffle shrugs for now and resumes playing, swimming around for a bit before finally deciding to use his scanner. He gets the first scan - the Acid Mushroom - and painstakingly reads the supplied article. He then goes on a scanning frenzy, scanning each thing he can find, comically chasing after various fish and objects, trying to scan them then taking an irritatingly long time to read the article aloud.
He gets to the point where he encounters his first real hostile enemy and tries to scan it. The stalker, of course, doesn't appreciate that, and attacks.
"Oooh what's this thing? Oh lovely, it's a big one. Can I scan it? The... Stalker? Oh okay is it friend-OW! NONONONO go away!"
Spiffle panics and scans it while running away from it, trying to swim backwards. He's so focused on scanning it he can't run far enough away that he gets ambushed by another Stalker nearby and manages to scan it just as he gets hit with his first Death in the game.
"Oh.... o...kay. Well... it seems things aren't as friendly as expected. I'm going to guess there's more things like that around. So... I'm just going to finish working on repairs and equipment then I'll take those things on."
Spiffle reads the article on the Stalker he scanned and spends more time collecting resources, scanning local entities and building the rest of the gear he has. Fins, high capacity O2 tank, rebreather and some more food and water which he stores in floating containers for later. He starts to explore a bit farther in search of fragments to scan and finds a Sand Shark, as well as a biome resembling a desert-like area. He encounters his first piece of the wrecked ship here.
"Oh! Hello! Pieces of wreckage! What are these for now do you suppose? Can I disassemble these for resources or-Oh! Is that a door? Oh! I'm supposed to go in here and look for things? How do I get in? Oh I can't. I need a laser cutter. Is one of those here? Need more fragments I guess..."
Spiffle gives up trying to enter and goes up for air, then returns to the floor to hunt for fragments. He eventually unlocks the Bioreactor, pieces of the Scanner room, a couple fragments of the Seaglide and Seamoth. He comes across the first cave entrance to the Mushroom Caves Biome.
"Oh... oh my. That's... deep. Good thing I unlocked the Seamoth thing. Its a miniature submarine I think. I can use that. But that's... kinda scary. I can't see the bottom. I kinda see just... purple. Mostly purple. But it scares me that I can't see the bottom."
Spiffle hangs around the cave entrance for a bit before a call for Oxygen forces him to the surface. He swims back down to the cave entrance and then hangs around a bit longer before once again resurfacing, heading for some new things to scan. It is however at this point that Spiffles exploration is cut short.
"EMERGENCY - SEISMIC READINGS SUGGEST A QUANTUM DETONATION HAS OCCURRED IN THE AURORA'S DRIVE CORE. THE CENTRAL DARK MATTER REACTOR WILL REACH A SUPERCRITICAL STATE IN -"
The computer aboard the PDA shakes Spiff out of his daze and he quickly rushes to the surface and looks at the ship.
"Wait wait wait what's that!? What's going on!? I see the ship? The Aurora! That's what its name is? Whats a Dark Matter reactor and wha-"
The computer continues its countdown muffled by Spiffs panicked squealing and he has a front-row seat to one of the most spectacular explosions in the history of gaming - the Aurora's Reactor Detonation.
It happens. The world goes dead silent for a short moment, and one can see Spiffles heart visibly stop beating. Then explosion as the Aurora lets out its magnificent blast. As the shockwave expands outwards, Spiffs skin visibly turns a paler shade of blue, and his eyes go wide. The sound of a geiger counter follows, leaving him breathless and pale as the world suddenly goes dead quiet again. The sound of the geiger counter ominously leaving him shaken even more than he already is.
"FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE - THE RADIATION SUIT HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR BLUEPRINTS."
Spiffle stays completely silent, bobbing in the water for a solid few minutes, staring in shocked wonder at what he just witnessed. He regains his composure for a few short moments and returns to his scanning venture, but one can easily see he isn't in the right mind after that. He returns to the seabed, at the entrance to the mushroom caves and dives again. He does this several more times, popping up to the surface, looking at the shipwreck, then diving at the entrance again. Finally, after much hesitation, he dives one last time.
"Screw it. it's just a game right?"
He smiles at the camera with a shrug and swims far below the surface, into one of the caves. As he enters the cavern his jaw drops at the sight of a massive underwater cavern filled with gigantic glowing pink mushrooms. The Mushroom caves as they are known. He spots something in the distance, entranced, forgetting his oxygen situation. He cant get far however and a terrifying shriek of some unknown entity shakes him out of his stupor.
"What in the red dawn was that noise!?"
Spiff can't finish asking his invisible audience what's going on as he strays too close to a mushroom, occupied by a Crab Snake, a gigantic sea worm. He is grabbed from behind, spun around and he visibly panics as the giant worm digs its enormous tusks into Spiffles character. Spiffle immediately freaks out, a combination of both the terrifying shriek emitted by the creature and the shock of being attacked makes poor Spiffle jump out of his seat and duck under the table.
"GOWAYGOWAYGOWAGOWAYGOWAY!!!"
The worm comes back and finishes Spiff off before his oxygen runs out. Spiff's character respawns but the footage continues, a slight whimper can be heard in the background as Spiff hides under the desk. This carries on for a few minutes, and his head very slowly appears above the desk. He gingerly puts himself back in his seat and breathes heavily for a bit. When he finally gains control, he tabs out of the game and takes a look at the wiki for Subnautica. He returns a few moments later and stares at the camera in that strange haunting glare he's become so famous for.
"WHY DO YOU STUPID DEVELOPERS NOT PUT GUNS IN THE GAME IF YOU HAVE SHIT LIKE THAT!? ARE YOU INSANE!?"
He grabs the camera and shakes it violently as he rants at it, questioning why there are guns in every other human game he has played and not THIS specific game, especially considering how there are 'giant water snake monsters that eat your face' in a game with no guns. He rants for a good minute or two then plays his outro.
TOP COMMENT: "Are you absolutely sure after Teardown, Factorio and Project ZOMBOID, you should be playing Subnautica? I mean seriously, try something less... psychologically terrifying. It's known as Thalassophobia Simulator for a reason."
_______________________________________________________________
"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemonk and I still don't understand why we have giant worm monsters but we have no guns!"
Spiffle stares at the camera with an expression that can only be summarized as 'Seriously bruh?' and resumes his last playthrough. He becomes confused at the lack of stuff in his inventory.
"Why is my... Why do I not ha-Oh right... I was eaten. When you die your inventory is wiped... I need to build more tools then."
Spiffle starts some silly music, an alien version of Benny Hill to a montage of him collecting resources, occasionally ranting at various oddities and questioning game logic. He restores all of his tools then goes hunting for a Vehicle Bay fragment so he can build the Seamoth. He continues to scan what he can, developing something of an obsession with the task, then painstakingly reading every word about it to try and understand it. It is at this point Spiffle, during his explorations finds another derelict chunk of ship near the desert region, encountering his first Sand Shark.
"What... What is this? Oh... careful Spiff. This one looks angrier than the last one you found. Wh-What in oblivion!?"
Spiffles attention is once again diverted by the appearance of a Reefback Leviathan and its signature low drone. This one appears to be a fully grown adult.
"You-you... You've got to be... You gotta be fucking kidding me. A Juhara Eelfish!? WHAT IS THAT DOING IN A HUMAN VIDEOGAME!!!??"
Spiffle squeaks in shock as he sees a creature that is an absolute spitting image of a large oceanic dwelling sea creature, which is both the games and his native homeworlds version of a Whale. The Reefback has some dissimilarities, but its close enough to the real thing that Spiffle is genuinely shocked. He quickly pauses the game, opening various wikipedia articles, then displays a full picture of both Subnautica in game Reefback, and the Juhara-Kal-Rehar, colloquially known as a Juhara Eelfish, a shockingly similar creature that lives in his homeworlds oceans.
The only difference between them is the color of the exterior chitin shell. The Reefback has a blue/purple shell, the Juhara Eelfish's chitin has a red/green shell.
"WHEN was this game made!?"
Spiff checks, the current Earth-date is the year 2886. Humanity only entered the galactic community in 2752. Subnautica was released in 2018.
"HOW.... How is that even possible!? You didn't even know the galaxy existed until only a few decades ago, yet you almost PERFECTLY matched the appearance of one of our homeworlds native species! How is this even possible!? Okay. If the name matches then I have to call bullshit."
Spiffle approaches and scans it, then reads the data article.
"A... Reefback Leviathan? Oh thank God... Now let's see... A herbivorous creature that... that likely got so large due to the fact that its predators went extinct. Well... that's... okay... A hard chitinous shell of multiple layers, a microcosm of different creatures and flora growing from its back, hence the name. Hmmm..."
Spiffle gets that cold, empty stare on his face and glares menacingly at the camera. The screen goes black, then returns, seeing Spiffle nursing a beverage of some kind while wrapped in a blanket.
"I realized something... Call it a message from the Ancestors or a Divine revelation. But I have a funny feeling this isn't going to be the last time I see a creature from the galaxy represented in human media. I hope to the Gods that doesn't happen... the concept of this situation is nothing short of terrifying. In any case, I'm sorry about that. Lets.... let's continue."
Spiffle resumes where he left off, doing his usual routine of scanning, then obsessively reading. Eventually he unlocks the Vehicle Bay, and returns home to his pod where the situation with resources is growing obscene with at least fifty floating resource containers hovering around the area.
"Alright... A Vehicle Bay... This means I can build things like the Seamoth now. This will be nice. Right, I shall for the sake of my audience skip the resource collection mechanic that's here and focus on the actual result. I shan't waste my time either though. MONTAGE!"
Spiff yells excitedly and a montage to that same odd Benny Hill type music plays out, with him collecting the resources he needs to build both machines. Most of it is already in the floating containers strewn about. With a few visits to the fabricator, he compiles the Power Cell, Titanium Ingot and Lubricant he needs to make the Vehicle Bay. He deploys it and chases it to the surface just away from the pod in the deeper end of the shallows.
"Right... Not too hard. Let's see then, how do-Ah. Get on it and... The Seamoth. Cost of two glass, one titanium ingot, a powercell, lead and lubricant. Right."
He quickly gathers and makes everything he needs for the Seamoth, then stands on the platform ready to go. He chooses the Seamoths recipe and the sequence starts. His eyes light up as drones start flying around the platform, then begin assembling atom by atom, the small, adorable minisub known as the Seamoth. It finishes the process and flops into the water with a splash.
"My gods look at this thing! It's so cute!"
Spiffle explores the sub for a little while and hops inside it, testing the controls and playing around with it a bit to see what it can do.
"Hm... Maximum Depth, 200 meters? So if I go below that does it implode or something? I need to be careful of that. OH dammit I remember! I have to make that Radiation Suit don't I? I shall do so now!"
Spiffle seems to have found a new resolve, quickly gathering resources together and making both a Seaglide and radiation suit in short order.
"Does this thing have any weapons? How do I repair-Oh... Repair tool? That makes it easier I suppose. Now... Where do I go now? Is there anything I can do?"
Spiffle stumbles about in the blind for a few minutes, trying to figure out his next course of action beyond simply wandering aimlessly while scanning things. He gets back in the pod and fixes the radio beacon. His face visibly contorts into an expression of irritation when he hears his rescue is in 9999 hours. He resolves to come back every now and then to check the radio. He decides to gather more resources to make up for building the seamoth and comes back a bit later. He finds a radio transmission when he returns.
"RADIO: ▀▖┗▛Nine new biological subjects designated. Mode ▄▖▜▚┣: hunting/analyzing.
Sharing subject locations with other agents."
"What... in the Nine Hells was THAT!? Why was it in such an odd voice? What was that language? What were those letters!? Somethings going on here... SO now what? I have the radiation suit. i guess... go into the Aurora? Oh no, I'm not going in there unprepared! Lemme make some tools and spare batteries, then i'll go in. I need... Oh... I need more fragments is what I need."
Spiffle resumes his fragment hunt, looking around for fragments of various tools. He uses the Seamoth to traverse around.
"WHEEE!!!"
Spiff seems more than just a bit happy as he trundles around in the Seamoth, using his speed to launch himself out of the water. He splashes about a bit, testing the limits of the craft and trying to see what holes he can squeeze himself into or out of and how deep he can go.
"Okay okay. time to get to serious work. Now... I need to find... A Laser Cutter and a... STASIS RIFLE?! Wait... rifle? That means GUN! I NEED A GUN!!"
Spiffle charges forward towards the desert biome where he found the Reefback and resumes his search for things to scan. It is now he comes across a Reginald.
"What... IS this fish? Wait, let me just..."
He gets out of the Seamoth and scans it.
"Huh... Reginald. That's a... fish? It's so cute! Wait, come back friend!"
Spiffle spends an unreasonable amount of time trying to catch a Reginald. When he finally catches one he gets back in the Seamoth and heads towards the aurora, new friend in tow. He trundles over to the side of the crashed ship and scans some random stuff here and there, finding fragments to a few small items, including a few he needs such as a Powercell Charger for the Seamoth’s battery. He gets close to the front of the ship and the haunting, evil noise of Subnautica's most iconic killer suddenly echoes through the gloomy water.
"What... Was that? Is it another worm thing? Please don't let it be one of those..."
Spiffle wanders around the side for a bit longer. An ominous shadow looms in the background, catching his eye. He ignores it for the moment and simply carries on, eventually arriving at the entrance to the ship. Through the mangled steel and fire he squeezes into the front of the ship and looks around. The environment ominously rattles and his screen shakes as the ships structure isn't exactly stable. The howl of the creature in the shadows makes Spiff even more uncomfortable.
"I... Do NOT like this. I really dont."
Spiff parks the Seamoth where he can see a ramp leading up, and gets out. He is immediately accosted by Cave Crawlers and uses his knife to defend himself, poorly, but he gets rid of the three or four around him.
"WARNING: SCANS SHOW THE DIGESTIVE TRACTS OF INDIGENOUS LIFE FORMS CONTAIN HUMAN TISSUE."
Spiffs face turns an even paler shade of blue and he swallows visibly as if he's trying not to vomit.
"Yeuch... I can scan this thing and read it later. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
Spiff scans and follows the path to the interior, uses his fire extinguisher to put out some fires in the area and gets inside. The ship rumbles as he wanders around and gets into one of the rooms. He finds the poster of the P.R.A.W.N. Suit.
"Ooh! A poster thing? Can I take it or? I can! PRAWN Suit eh? Can I actually use that thing?"
Spiff takes the poster, scans some furniture and collects a PDA. Spiff continues down the corridor and retrieves his Propulsion Cannon from his inventory and uses it to pick up some furniture in the way.
"I am SO glad I got this thing from scanning the area before I came here. This is super useful! I wonder if it has other uses..."
He gets to the door and looks at his databank.
"Hmm... Here it is! Code for the door is 1454. Right."
Spiff moves through, repairing a door to get the Seamoth Depth Upgrade Module. He continues and clears a fire to enter the main reactor. His inner loot goblin shines through and grabs the Cyclops engine efficiency module before he starts work on repairs, scanning the breach and starting work. It doesn't take him long, but he gets issues with a Bleeder that lives in the waters. He scans one then finishes repairs. Foolishly, he uses the propulsion cannon and shoots the bleeder at one of the reactors, undoing his work. He looks at the damage he caused and repairs it.
"Well... what was I expecting... Why did I do that? It's a CANNON... why did I aim it at the reactor exactly? So stupid..."
Spiff finishes and heads to the PRAWN Bay, and looks around at the damage. He spots the prawn suits and starts scanning, grabbing a storage module upgrade from a console and starts extinguishing flames so he can scan. He runs out of fire extinguisher juice though.
"Blast! Can I still scan these if they're on fire?"
Spiff walks around, finding cheeky angles he can use and scans the debris, finding all four fragments he needs. He heads upstairs and goes through the rooms and everything he can find. He gets into the Galley and sees the Kitty in a Space Helmet Poster.
"What the- 'Keep Calm'? What in the blue balls is this? It's.... cute! What is this creature!? Can I keep this? I can!"
Spiffle excitedly grabs the poster and moves on. He goes through cabins, picks up PDAs and collects the Natural Selection 2 poster, the Prawn suit in the sea poster and the collectible arcade toy in the locked cabin. Lacking the code to the Captain's cabin, he returns to the prawn bay and tries swimming around, eventually finding a passage in the hull debris to the rest of the ship. He moves through in silence, recovers the black box data and exits the ship. He removes debris, grabs the local wildlife with the cannon and tosses them into fires or the water with glee.
"BEGONE BEAST!!! Ha! Right... uhh... where did i park? Oh, there it is. Should I go home? I wonder if there are any fragments I can use around here?"
Spiff exits, finding Liefpod 4 floating upside down on the surface of the water. He collects the PDA data and a new blueprint. Then, as he gets in the seamoth, the horrifying roar of the Reaper Leviathan suddenly sounds. Spiff is thrown into a panic, screams in terror and tries desperately to get away. The beast appears with jaw chomping and claws clawing at the poor Seamoth. The entire time Spiffle is screeching like a bird with a broken leg, his entire body now an almost ghostly white out of absolute terror.
"GOWAYGOWAYGOWAYGOWAYGODNONNONOGOWAYGOWAY!!!"
Spiffle manages to get out of its grip and in a panic charges away towards his lifepod and continues to scream, breathing hard between screams. He gets to the pod and then hides under his desk, continuing to scream. His channel outro plays.
TOP COMMENT: (This has been translated from Eridani) "I am starting to believe this whole sojourn was a very BAD idea. Do you humans have those kinds of beasts on your homeworld? How did you ever survive them?!"
RESPONSE: LOL no we never had Reapers. The only Leviathan Class creatures we have on our planet are Whales. And they're mostly peaceful plankton eaters. Mostly.
RESPONSE: (Translated from Eridani) "Seriously? I think I find it more terrifying that these creatures are made up in your minds. What kind of nightmares do you people have to be able to create this level of fiction!?"
RESPONSE: Do. Not. Ask. This is only Subnautica - we have FAR worse.
Spiffles response: "You're going to make me play these 'far worse', aren't you?"
RESPONSE: "Damn right we are! :)"
________________________________________________________
"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemnonk and welcome back to Subnautica!"
Spiffle looks visibly stronger, his usual lanky appearance now looking like he's been working out like a Gym Bro. One can see muscles on muscles and Spiff seems to have an abnormal amount of energy.
"I am now relaxed. It is now time to get eaten by giant scary sea monsters. And yes, before you ask, I have successfully finished fully soundproofing my office. And also yes, I am indeed expecting a new addition to the brood... THANKS DAMN HUMANS! You and your damn musical magic nonsense..."
Spiffle starts the game and is swimming outside the pod next to the Seamoth. The first thing he does is repair the seamoth from the damage incurred by the Reaper, and recounts what hes been up to, checking inventory and equipment. He heads to the radio and gets a new transmission.
RADIO - "This is Avery Quinn of trading ship Sunbeam. Aurora, do you read? Over.'
'Nothing but vacuum. These Alterra ships. They run low on engine grease, they send an SOS; you offer to help, they don't pick up.'
'Aurora, we're out on the far side of the system, it's going to take more than a week to reach your position, do you still need our assistance? Over.'
'I'll try them again tomorrow. Damn charter's going to have us wasting our profit margin running errands for Alterra.'
'See what the long-range scanner picks up in the meantime."
"Oh? Oh lovely! There ARE people in this game! I wonder when they will be here? Meh, I have things to build, so I'll keep an eye."
Spiffle resolves himself to start building a base, trying to find a good spot. He finds the Mushroom Forest Biome and starts gathering resources to ferry them around. He installs the Depth Module and the Storage module to the Seamoth, then builds the Moon Pool. The Mushroom Biome becomes one of his favorite spots and a close encounter with a JellyRay cements it.
"Those creatures are beautiful! Look! JellyRay! Its glowing blue and pretty! I love that! Oh... I have a new radio message. I need to listen to that then."
Spiff returns to the pod and listens to the message.
RADIO - "Aurora, this is Sunbeam again. We just picked up a massive debris field at your location.'
'I didn't know how bad... How many of you... I didn't know.'
'We are now en route to your location. We're going to bring you home. Sunbeam out.'
'What else can I say? The only time I parked a rig this big on a rock that small was in VR, and I blew it'
'Oh, it's a bad option alright, but so are all the others."
Spiff smiles and carries on working, parking the Seamoth inside after powering everything up.
"So lovely! But... Is that a win condition? I know human games by now I have played enough of them. Is that a win condition? Get rescued? I dunno..."
Spiffle carries on building for a little and gets a storage system up, spending a few in-game days transporting resources to his new base. He returned to the pod and played a new radio message, again from the Sunbeam.
RADIO - "This is Sunbeam. Y'know, Aurora, we're from a little trans-gov on the far side of Andromeda, and we have a saying there.'
'There's no bad without the good, no good without the bad.'
'Sounds like you tasted a bunch of the former, but that only means you're overdue a whole lot of the latter.'
'Might just be we're it.'
'We're scanning for somewhere to park, we'll be in touch when we find it. Sunbeam out."
"Ohh... That... that's a lovely saying! What was that uh... There's no bad without the good, no good without the bad. I like that! I think i'll have that framed on my wall! Now lets see.. i ca- I CAN GIVE THE SEAMOTH A NAME? OOHHHhh okay, okay.. I can customize the color too! I think I'll just do this..."
Spiff leaves the name as 'Seamoth' for now, changing the color to a mix of purple for the main, and blue for the trim and name color. His two favorite colors. Spiffle does a little more work, acquiring the last fragments for the Cyclops and starts gathering together the resources necessary to build it.
"Hmmm.. Cyclops... Personal large scale submarine capable of carrying other vehicles! Ooohhh I want to build that! I need to fetch the Vehicle Bay though. Im almost done moving house!"
Spiff returns and packs up the last of his resources, then gets another radio message.
RADIO - "Aurora, we're approaching the planet now, and we have a landing site for you that's... well, it's better than the alternatives.'
'We've sent you the coordinates.'
'It'll take us a couple of days to align our orbit, we should be able to establish direct contact with you during that time, then we're coming in to get you.'
'Cross your fingers the weather holds, and don't leave us waiting. Sunbeam out."
Spiffle gets a new beacon on his HUD. Sunbeam Landing Site.
"What!? Is this game over If I'm there!? Okay... well. At least it's no longer terrifying! I'll get the Seamoth and go for the beacon then. I hope it's okay... Strange... this... doesn't feel like the end, you know? But if it is then it is."
Spiff heads home, deploys the Vehicle Bay and deposits his gear and resources. He heads towards the location, occasionally squealing 'WHEEE!!' as he uses the Seamoth to jump out of the water like a dolphin. However, he miscalculates and the Seamoth jumps up, out and sustains a bit of damage as it hits a rock formation close to the surface. He gets out, repairs it and looks at the camera.
"Why no I didn't just damage my Seamoth by having too much fun. I don't know what you are talking about. Hehe."
Spiffle smirks at the camera with a glare and carries on. Eventually, he encounters the largest of the Islands in the world.
"Wh... WHAT. This has been here the whole time!? Is this an island? Who cares! LAND! Sweet land!"
Spiffle now notices the timer and hops onto the island from his Seamoth. He walks up to the landing zone and stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the massive al;ien structure known as the Quarantine Enforcement Platform. In essence, a giant alien cannon.
"What... the *beep* is THAT?"
Spiffles' editing has gotten better, his editor learning how to censor Spiffles foul language, in both English AND Eridani. He moves closer to the building, scanning the broken tablet and the Forcefield Controls.
"What is this? I mean it's clearly alien... What do the codex entries say... 'possible to reconstruct the device' Oh... hmm.. I can make more of these then. 'Matches no known technologies... functions like a lock'. Okay then so... Standard video game logic I guess. That's nice! So A purple tablet will unlock the gate there. What are those?"
Spiff moves towards the Cairns marking the way into the island, pathways leading up the mountainside. He follows them, finding a Purple Tablet in the process on one of the pathways.
"Oh! Lovely! That saves me resources and a trip I guess. This pathway keeps going though. hmm... Welp, we still have thirty minutes, so let's go."
Spiff explores the pathway, getting lost a bit before finally figuring that following the large cables is a good idea. He comes across the Teleportation Arch and scans it, in between dodging the Cave Crawlers.
"Right, let's see... Alien Arch... not much to speak of here. Maybe this thing will be useful later I guess. Likely.... Hmmm..."
Spiffle continues exploring and eventually finds himself back at the forcefield with another twenty minutes to go.
"Screw it, let's go."
Spiff activates the forcefield platform and the animation of the key being placed plays out. He moves into the building, activating both data platforms and acquiring two Ion Cubes for later, scanning everything he thinks he can scan. He enters the Moonpool in the bay and gets two more Ion Cubes, plus data on a rifle and a Doomsday Device. He ignores it for now, acquiring one more purple tablet and accessing the control room.
"Right... what's in here? Hmm... Energy Core, right. I shall scan that and... press button?"
Spiff presses the button. An animation plays where a device locks his characters hand in place, viciously stabs it with a pointy metal bit and then releases it.
"OH GODS what the hell! Why is that?! That's just nasty!"
"THE TERMINAL IS BROADCASTING A MESSAGE. TRANSLATION READS: 'Warning, infected individuals may not disable the weapon. This planet is under quarantine.'"
"Quarantine! What? Infected? I-Hold on...."
Spiffle gets his scanner out and performs a self-scan. It is only now he notices something very bad has happened.
"I-infected!? Wait, what!?"
"SELF-SCAN COMPLETE - DETECTING STATISTICALLY SIGNIFICANT BACTERIAL LEVELS. NO ADVERSE EFFECTS DETECTED. BE VIGILANT FOR SYMPTOMS."
"Oh brilliant! Does that mean I can't leave? I KNEW IT! Wait... weapon!? This is a weapon!?"
Spiffle panics and runs out of the facility as fast as he can and waits the last few minutes for the Sunbeam to arrive. Sure enough, it does. In the last 30 seconds, the Sunbeam plays a message.
RADIO - "Survivor, we see you!
'Man, I don't know how you held out down there.'
The sunbeams message plays, and Spiffle gasps in terror from the sound of the gun platform starting up and starting to move around.
RADIO - "We've broken atmosphere and we're descending towards the landing site.'
'Is that a building down there?! What do you mean you can't identify it?"
The weapon powers up and turns, aiming itself high at the sky.
RADIO - "Hold on, no turning back now.'
'Positions everyone, touching down in 10, 9, 8-'
The weapon charges up and a loud vicious hum can be heard echoing through the valley.
RADIO - "It's coming from the building?! Change course, set thrusters to (full)-"
The radio goes to static, the weapon fires and the Sunbeam is vaporized instantly by a massive blast of bright green light. The sunbeam disappears, its hull structure completely disintegrated. Spiffle sits in stunned silence as the platform returns to a stable position, shuts down, and everything goes quiet.
"Well... Okay then... That was... horrifying. I guess thats all we have time for! Hehe! Oh dear..."
Spiffle looks a bit defeated as he sits back in his seat.
"S-see you next time! I guess... Holy shit..."
Channel Outro plays.
TOP COMMENT: "Are you okay? You seem a little bit too disturbed by that. Its fine though, compared to what happens in the Rise Of The Ancients Mod, this is tame! Lol! I love that mod!"
Spiffles Response: "Please don't make me play that mod..."
((Authors note - due to how bastardingly huge Subnautica is, this will be a multi part series. Other Spiff stories will come inbetween. Hope you enjoy!))

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Context

This story fits into my world-building as an example of how people of the tribe at Saàkirlaasiik name one another. It illustrates that names are given by men to one another within their trade groups. Women ask their potential husbands to name them at their binding ceremony. This story illustrates both of those things.
The story is about two characters - 'Rows-in-loud-waters' and 'Hatchling'. They are on a battlefield against a tribe that broke apart from them long ago. Things get rough and a naming ceremony happens in the end. This takes place between the border of Saàkirlaasiik and Saàronit. It takes place in the second age after the Great Sundering.

Spoiler TL;DR

Summary: Rows-in-loud-waters is something of a squad leader to Hatchling. The two of them are in the alligator clan and are waiting for the 'Deceived' to come and fight them. When they finally do, the men fight with one of the Deceived for the majority of the story. This leads to some banter back and forth, but in the end, Hatchling dies. Hatchling tells Rows-in-loud-waters what he would have named his would-be wife if she had asked him to wed her. At the final end, Rows-in-loud-waters gives Hatchling a true proper name.

If You Read / Enjoy

Please drop me a comment. Just hearing that someone liked it would be awesome.

What's In A Name

“Stand firm! Men of Nafóótkirriinhaa”, Leans-on-the-spirit, chief of their clan spoke over all present before him. Riding by on a horse, he raised a spear and pranced the line of warriors. “It saddens me that we will shed the blood of our cousins! But they come to steal, pillage, and destroy. Show no mercy, brothers. For, I assure you, the Deceived will not return it.” His dark hair streamed in the air behind him as his steed carried him far down the line of men and out of earshot from him. Men cheered as he galloped by and smacked the flat of their weapons against their chests.
Hide banners whipped as the wind bid them to their will and the trees bent with each gust. Each banner displayed the spirit patron of the clan lined up to do battle. Some tribes gathered hides from the animals that embodied the attributes of their families' skills and nature. Behind him, alligator scales bent against the howling air. They dyed the animal biting its tail with an eye in the middle. A single line split the banner in the middle horizontally, and the eye peered out from the line. It represented the watchful eye of the clan, looking from the lands around Eversun. Sniffing, he smelt the hint of trees mingled mostly with warpaint against his flesh. A drum rang out behind him, then another sounded in the distance echoing it, and further out another did the same. This echoed on for a few more raps. His heart pounded in his chest, but he steeled his face.
The dark brown hair smacked the back of his tanned neck and his dark eyes scanned the woods before him. Across the grassland, they stood like a wall in the distance, dense and ominous. He had fashioned leather armor from the scaled hide of his swamp-dwelling, neighbor beast. He added stone studs to it in places that stuck out. On either side, men stood around him and he glanced out of the corner of his eyes. Younger men stationed themselves on either side of him entirely still and they both wore similar garb.
Each man painted their body with different symbols to display their strength, ferocity, or, in his case, battles fought. He used the black dye they made to draw scales against his skin where it remained exposed to the elements. Each drawn shape represented the number of times that he challenged a Deceived in combat and won. To his right, Paako Saàchalkoorrich Tínafsorlor, whom he lovingly calls Hatchling, dyed his face with ferocious teeth in the hope of scaring his enemies.
Hatchling's eyes widened as a horn sounded in the distance. Lootookcholatnapàrooti placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and smiled. Not showing his teeth, the sparkle in his eyes faded as quickly as it came. Recalling his first battle, the now chief, captained his line then. He hoped he could offer as much hope as the chief did then.
"Hatchling, I understand. This is your first bout with the Deceived. The tales we've weaved of them are terrifying and vicious. I must tell you, those tales are half true, but the half is still terrible" Lootookcholatnapàrooti's eyes trained on the forest head of them across the clearing. Any motion in the trees hid from his view and he sensed it lingered beyond the tree line, in the underbrush.
“Rows-in-loud-waters”, which Lootookcholatnapárooti meant, said Hatchling, “I don’t like the nickname. I am strong and proven in the tests.” Rows-in-loud-waters almost heard the pout on the young warrior's face. Smirking, he gave the young soldier a soft elbow to the ribs. “You’ve fought them enough times. How well do you know their tactics?”
Choosing to ignore the dislike of the nickname and how proven he may or may not be, Rows-in-loud-waters answered, "More than fought them. I engaged the enemy when the sundering happened, those years ago, when the clans had made it across Saàronit and into the valleys of the east. When Kolotatliíchiit revealed himself as the spirit of lies and trickery known to us as Naríhììnanathìnafòò”, chortled Rows-in-loud-waters. His mind rowed back to the day on the ship of his mind through the sea of memories. Every day, the river of life eroded them from his mind and they became less and less tangible.
The young man remained silent but peered from the corner of his sockets with intent. The horn blew again and the wind howled against the dusk sky. Rows-in-loud-waters guarded the lands of the tribe for several years, being an ‘eye in the swamp’. The Deceived envied Eversun and believed it promised to them instead of the men around him now. They fell, though, tainted themselves with the lies of the evil their false god fed them. The land of ever-sun had been promised for believers of the beat-giver, not the nest-stealer.
The horn sounded again, this time a bit closer. Rows-in-loud-waters tensed his hand around the shoulder of the young man again, in an attempt to reassure him. He worried the giant they built in tales to keep children near the settlements, backfired in moments like these. Fear, if unchecked by faith and courage created by faith, ravaged a man and tore through his resolve like the monsters created in stories of the age past and gone. “I have heard the Deceived are industrialized people with forges and explosives.”
"They hold fewer explosives and kilns as they once operated in the realms of Setting-Sun and the Teal Forests. We all practiced forging or so I’m told. The sundering was a quick bout of brother against brother and clan against clan. At the base of the white-ridged mountain, where the Nòònchààrrílììsììnat dwelt, we fought for what seemed like hours. We fought until our muscles ached, until our bones hurt, and until our lungs screamed for relief. In the end, Kolotatliíchiit fell and their usurper king called the retreat", he retold the story, holding on to the ax in his hand, keeping it at the ready in his off-hand. "The spirit of Naríhììnanathìnafòò spread over those who lost their way and inhabited all of them. It spread like sickness and as they fled, it fled with them." He shook his head and removed his hand from the young man's shoulder. "Half the priests left with them, and four of the seven first tribes dictated by Wááchlachtat, the great beat-giver."
Hatchling murmured a short prayer, both, Rows-in-loud-waters thought, in reverence for the name of their god but also the fear his heart currently harbored. "And they come now astride giant wolves, Rows-in-loud-waters and hunt in the dusk to find weaknesses in our resolve and steal into the land of promise. There they hope to kill our king, our clan chiefs, and place themselves at the seat of it all. How many times have they tried?" Fear waivered in the voice of the young man, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. They both did. The last they needed, Rows-in-loud-waters thought, wolf-mounted cavalry running them down while they stared into one another's eyes.
"Since the sundering", Rows-in-loud-waters asked and pondered in silence. The horns dinned again and got a bit closer. "In a host of the size the scouts report? Here I face them a second time, but they have always sent scouts almost yearly and they try skirmishes against us almost every five years. So in the twenty years since the sundering, there have been four skirmishes and two battles. Neither side seemed eager to meet the other in open war." To keep the young man from falling deeper into despair, Rows-in-loud-waters kept to himself the assumed reason. The potential allied dark powers of the Deceived deterred the king and the clan leaders from open war. They feared, maybe rightfully so, that the enemy sought other children of Naríhììnanathìnafòò like the Chììktonààn with their horrid owl-shaped faces and wrinkled talon-like hands.
Though none have seen a Chììknààn in a generation, tales of their malice lingered around the fires of public areas. Elders spun tales of heroes fighting the demi-god-like beings. Their eyes could see a spirit walker, and their strength could wrestle to the ground men twice their size. The claws, razor-sharp on each wrinkled and pimpled hand, extended its arm into the spirit world itself and could yank a spirit walker out from between the realms.
He ventured to guess the enemy refused open war with them because of the fear of the great beat-giver intervening against them, as he had done at the sundering. Spirits of the eagle, the buffalo, and the snake descended from the skies and took shape around them. The eagle came to the aid of the great teacher and fought with him against the enemy. The sight still filled Rows-in-loud-waters with awe and fear. These great spirits with such power existed in their realm - the Wààchlachtatpààtiit. Who knew what else existed beyond the reaches of the seas and northern mountains? The horn blew again, but this time it had not moved. He grabbed the other hatchet on his belt with his right hand.
"They're stalling", Hatchling breathed out, almost in a whisper as if he dared not alert the enemy to his position...
"They are and it is not like them to do so. But remember the spirit of our clan. We watch like the eye in our banner. We wait. We strike. Let the panther clan hunt through the woods and draw them out. We are to wait here." Rows-in-loud-waters convinced himself but pondered what the spirit-walkers of the panther clan waited for, or worse if the Chììktonààn horde lingered within the enemy host and snatched them from between the material and immaterial. "We wait." He echoed again and stood at the ready. The scales on his armor glinted in the setting sun to their left as it sank over the rolling hills at the place where the mountains met the lowlands and fled into the prairies.
A sea of pinks, reds, and oranges washed over the sky to the left of them as they faced north. The sun sat at the bottom of it all, at the horizon in the planes before the Saàronit. He failed to see it but, past the seas of grass - it sank. The sun sought its evening home beyond the lands of teal forests and red cliffs. In the land of gold and beautiful ridged coastlines. It almost yanked him away from the battle before him. It almost drew him away from the moment.
"So they're not as bad as you've told me my whole life?"
"They're bad, but they're human. They bleed and die like you do. The tales your elders have taught you as a child have not been altogether false or altogether true. They *do* practice human sacrifice of those they capture", Rows-in-loud-waters stated. He hid the fact they often sacrificed young children of their clans in the event they captured no one. "But they are not able to speak with wolves or command spiders. These are lies for story-telling effectiveness."
The young man grinned, "Ah then I will bring back my weight in scalps and wolf heads to the feasts of the return party." The young man raised his hatchet in response. "Each being an honor to my family and a possible trophy to convince Fóó Pafààlktiit Tínafsorlor to ask me to give her a name. Been courting her for two years now, and she still hasn't asked me. Perhaps this shows her my ability to provide and protect." Rows-in-loud-waters nodded. Sometimes spoils of war could convince a woman to request a naming. He wondered if women had it better in their tradition of naming. A woman received her name from her husband at the naming ceremony, but a man got his name from his peers. One bad name could stick forever.
His eyes scanned over to Chàànatatnafsorhapààt, named for hiding during a skirmish with the Deceived a handful of years ago. At least his name, he thought, sat in the middle of the road. Not too over the top to be too ridiculous but not to note some character flaw. Once given a name, your name stuck with you for the rest of your life. Shaking his head, he heard screams in the woods before them. "Get ready", he squatted in his ready position. Silence oozed over the field as the sun made a half-eye like of their banner against a pink sky.
"Fóó pafààlktiit tínafsorlor, I will bring you back spoils! I will show you I am a man to father your children", the young man mimicked the position Rows-in-loud-waters took. The two of them stood side by side. "Wááchlachtat, please be with us. Guide our strikes. Smite our foes", the young man glanced up at the sky. Rows-in-loud-waters followed his gaze with his own eyes and witnessed a single eagle flying overhead. “A good omen”, he noted. "He is with us", the young man shouted and pointed up to the sky. "He. Is. With. Us." The fervor spread through the line as men glanced up to spot the eagle before it disappeared.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Hatchling. Have faith, but the battle is not yet over. Wááchlachtat is not ours to master. We are his. His will is not ours. He will do as he wishes with this day." Then they came. Oversized wolves burst from the treeline and the men in the front of the formation readied their spears. "When the charge breaks, move with me. Understood, Hatchling", Rows-in-loud-waters asked. The young man nodded a response and the two of them faced their full attention to the front. Drums around them wailed with each passing moment and the panther clan did their duty - pinching the Deceived and drawing them out.
Rows-in-loud-waters smelled them before they got close enough to attack. They reeked of sulfur, oxidized iron, and sweat. Of all the deceits sown by the evil spirit, the greatest blazed fire and iron. Though he lived too few years to have experienced the splendors in the teal forests. The forest they laid bare, the mountains and valleys they flattened to build large metal works. All of this culminated in the great lie the beat-giver gave them conquest as a purpose. Their people knew the truth as inherited from the great beat-giver. Upon creation, he gifted man with more than a heartbeat, but also a goal, a purpose, and a stewardship over the world. The Deceived abandoned it and clad themselves in metal armor atop their steeds.
Charging furred beasts broke against the spears of the stag clan who had adorned their heads with antlers and little white speckled furs along their backs. Wolves howled and snapped their jaws at them as they died against the spears. The drool from their large agape mouths dripped onto the stag clansmen and drenched their armor. The area around Rows-in-loud-waters filled with the reek of wet dogs, which, smelled more pleasant than their riders.
One Deceived soldier, overlapping plated armor, hopped from his beast as it hit the spears, and landed behind the line, rolling as he did so. Tumbling to his feet, he drew two swords made of crude metal and eyed around the Rows-in-loud-waters and Hatchling. He licked his filed-down teeth and stepped forward to the two of them. The smell shifted back to the scent of sulfur and rust. Evil, its stench, hung to the Deceived.
Rows-in-loud-waters turned to face him and tugged Hatchling to do the same. The two of them flicked their hatchets in their hands and semi-circled the Deceived man This outsider appeared like they did: dark tanned skin, darker hair, dark eyes, and markings along his skin denote his tribe. This one hailed from the wolf tribe, which drew its heraldry from the initial Coyote tribe of Kolotatliíchiit. "Traitors", the wolf warrior shouted and raised his sword to charge forward. Rows-in-loud-waters noted the warrior before them bore the scarred claws of the man-butcher on his face. Three scarred lines trailed down his face and missed his eyes by a half-inch.
Other men broke through the formation of spearmen at the front of the line. One by one, more Deceived lingered into the lines of their tribe and the tempest of blades and shields whirled to life. Swords clanked against hatchets, spears against armor, and maces against faces. He heard the crunch of bone under the pressure of horse hooves. The air filled with the smell of metallic liquid, not like rust but a bit more like copper.
Hatchling and Rows-in-loud-waters moved in and, like the jaws of the mighty alligator spirit, pinched the Deceived warrior between themselves. Hatchling threw a slashing move with one of his hatchets, preparing a parry with the other arm. As he did so, Rows-in-loud-waters lunged forward and hacked hard downward to put a severe dent in the helmet of the enemy. The outsider struggled between them. He blocked one blow from Rows-in-loud-waters, then turned around to parry a blow from Hatchling. Sparks flew off the crude metal weapon as their chiseled stone axes hit it. The two of them stepped back from the Deceived outsider before he could counterattack.
Charging in again Hatchling dented his armor, leaving scuffs and scratches, while the enemy pushed Rows-in-loud-waters back away. "Traitors? You fight for the enemy, cousin!" Regardless of how far out the family they believed all clans related through the first men created by the beat-giver. "Turn your heart to Wááchlachtat and see! See the error of your ways and your kindred, they betrayed our ways and clung to Kolotatliíchiit even when revealed himself as the enemy!"
"Kolotatliíchiit was a hero, a paragon of our people! He hunted and slew the Chììktonààn. He mastered the realm given to us and showed us how to bend it to our will", with each phrase the enemy slammed his sword against Hatchling. Raising both his axes to catch the oncoming slash, Hatchling grunted as each hit staggered him backward.
"Perhaps it is not ours to shape?" Hatchling posed the question now and pride welled up in Rows-in-loud-waters’s heart. The young one came to grasp the purpose, the great mission for all of the men on Laaliíoota, one of them anyway. They lived in harmony with nature, not against it, not bending mountains to their will. To protect the young soldier, he jabbed forward with the ax in his main hand and moved back. It acted as a deterrent to pressing the young soldier further.
Around them, the din of battle drowned out the sounds of any other thoughts or fears. The Deceived soldier before them held their full attention. Another enemy sped toward them but caught a spear in the back of the neck. It pierced through him and pinned him to the ground. Gurgling nearby, he struggled and flailed his arms against the ground. A pool of crimson soaked the grass.
"Why", he pushed back Hatchling with his foot. "Would the beat-giver", he slashed and cut a gash in Rows-in-loud-water’s arm. "Give us", he kicked again trying to keep Hatchling back. "a realm to exist in. He wants us to conquer it."
Glancing at the blood running from his arm, Rows-in-loud-waters shook his head. "Then you are lost, cousin. The beat-giver never commanded us to conquer anything. He asked us to live in love with one another, to defend the wilds and beauty he created, and to worship him." Rows-in-loud-waters spun his hatchets around his hands and stepped back. Love of nature, love of others, and love of Wááchlachtat existed as the key commands of their god. The spirits echoed this in their defined sub-goals for each clan.
"Cousin", Rows-in-loud-waters said, "I will ask you once more to lay down your arms and come to try and reform... And we will see to it you are integrated with your people. That you see the truth and the life." In all ways, if possible, he felt required to extend out to the lost and try and pull them back to the way. His eyes met the Deceived man’s eyes and they shared a moment. Contemplation washed over the features of the enemy for but a moment as he narrowed his eyes to Rows-in-loud-waters.
"Never. Your way is a lie. Designed to deceive us." He kicked Hatchling back away again when the gap between them closed, then turned and charged. Rows-in-loud-waters and the enemy met at full force. The two of them traded blows. A slash on the cheek of the Deceived, bleed and he could see the ivory teeth within his joules. He hissed with pain and stepped back again. Droplets of blood oozed from the wound of the enemy’s mouth and down his chin. He reached up and wiped the blood away and licked into the wound with his tongue.
Hatchling charged at him from behind and jumped up into the air to attempt to plunge his axes upon the Deceived's shoulders with two raking blows. Rows-in-loud-waters rose his axes to try and deter the young warrior from his actions against the Deceived. With sudden premonition and supernatural celerity, the Deceived turned around and jammed his sword upwards in a single motion. Hatchling stopped in his tracks, his body caved save for the spasms. The pain must have racked him as he shuddered when the enemy pulled the blade out and fell to the ground.
"No!" Rows-in-loud-waters shouted and charged, but even as he charged forward Hatchling continued to fight. Standing from his prone position, he struck the Deceived in the back of the leg with his hatchet and it bit into him. Crimson liquid sprayed out onto the ground, but he pressed against his abdomen with his left arm. Slashing with the other arm in rapid succession. They wasted too much time, thought Rows-in-loud-waters and he needed to press the combat now. The enemy must fall before Hatchling expired.
Rows-in-loud-waters smacked him with the flat side of his weapon so he turned back around. The blood of his fellow clan mate dripped from the crude metallic blade. The air smelled of rusted metal. Fuming inside, Rows-in-loud-waters swung his weapon again and cleaved through the enemy's collarbone. The Deceived’s neck slacked and the weapon fell to his side. Ringing against his armored thigh, the sword clacked there, tapping as the enemy struggled to hold on.
Heaving for breath, Hatchling continued slashing with his axes and making deep cuts against the enemy until he stopped moving. Blood, a mixture of his own and the Deceived’s covered his face and shoulders. His body rested over the Deceived’s body and he lay there motionless. The battle swirled around them, cousin against cousin. Night fell around them and the three sister moons lit the darkness. The pale, vulnerable light glinted off crude metal and seeped into obsidian weapons.
Rows-in-loud-waters dropped to his knees beside the two bodies as Hatchling gasped for breath. The battle waged on, but numbers weighed on their side. The Deceived brought a thousand men to this battle, where they fielded three times. His ally wrapped both arms around his stomach to try and slow the bleeding.
"Rows-in-loud-waters, tell Fóó Pafààlktiit Tínafsorlor I wish I could have made it back to her. This", he lifted the scalped hair of the enemy soldier on the ground beside him, "is for her." He placed the skin and braided hair into Rows-in-loud-waters’s hand. "Tell her", he coughed, "I would have named her... The most poetic names." The scalp’s blood leaked from the cracks in his hands and down his wrist.
Wrapping his fingers around the other man's hand, Rows-in-loud-waters nodded his head. "What would have named her, Hatchling?" He squeezed as the young man faded a bit more, though he looked far older now than he had ever looked at him before. The mission at the moment remained to keep the young man from dying in fear and panic. Blood gushed from the open wound under his rib cage.
"I would have named her for the way the crickets sing in the summer as the sun sets under the moss-draped trees - Saàriifòònaforchiínaforchiit. I could have named her for the light reflected in her eyes as the fire burns under a full moon and frogs croak out beats for our souls to dance to. I would have named her", he gurgled blood between the words, "queen of my heart - Kiwáátattalkti. Most importantly, Rows-in-loud-waters, I would have named her my wife..."
"I know, friend. I know. I will tell her", blood leaked from the scalp in his hand and down his wrists as he pulled Hatchling's head into his lap. "Rest now, friend." Rows-in-loud-waters leaned in close to his friend and embraced him. He wrapped his arms around the wound with him and tried to provide him warmth as all the blood left his body. The savage blade of the enemy, ripped as it came out. Shuddering, Hatchling closed his eyes, knowing the end came soon.
"Tell her", he whispered again.
"I will", Rows-in-loud-waters responded.
The battle wrestled to an end with the final Deceived being chased away from the battle lines and into the woods where the Panther clan decided to let them go further by themselves. Rows-in-loud-waters watched from his place on the ground and hand on the side of Hatchling's cheek. A set of footsteps jingled through the battlefield behind him, but he kept his face downcast. A clattering of bones against quartz rung with each step. Blotting out the light from the moon, a shadow towered over him.
"Rows-in-loud-waters, losing a soldier in your line is unforgettable and crushing of the spirit, but he is not gone forever. You will see him again when we return to the beat-giver and live with him in the land of peace. Do distress yourself." The chief of the alligator clan knelt and placed a hand on Rows-in-loud-waters’s shoulder. He remained silent for some time, and Rows-in-loud-waters continued to look at the young man who served beside him.
"He fought valiantly, but even in the halls of the beat-giver he will be unnamed."
"Because he has not earned a name? Do you believe he has not earned a name, Rows-in-loud-waters? I hardly think that is fair." The chief shook his head and clicked his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly. Rows-in-loud-waters placed both hands of his friend on his chest and then placed his arms at his sides to shake out the anxiety and pent-up energy there.
"But, Leans-on-the-spirit, no one named him in life. He would not know it when we meet him in the halls of the beat-givers home. How would he answer". At this question, the chief sat and nestled into the ground near Rows-in-loud-waters. Squeezing his shoulder with his hand, and looked into the warrior's eyes.
Removing his hand from the shoulder of Rows-in-loud-waters he lifted the hand of Hatchling to his lap and took in a deep breath. "Do you imagine the names we give one another are for them to know who they are? Do you think our understanding of self is so small we have to have our brothers explain our behavior to ourselves?"
"So the names we give one another are for those around us."
"They're not for the beat-giver to know us", the chief chortled in response. "He already knows who we are before any name is given." The chief looked into Rows-in-loud-waters’s eyes and Rows-in-loud-waters sensed a tenderness and joy in the life of the man which grew in him like a ripened fruit. Here, the fruit offered out to him in guidance and words. “He knew us before the foundation of Laaliíoota and before the breath of the first man”
“Then I have a name for him.”
The chief motioned his hand. “Go on, Rows-in-loud-waters. He fought his trial against the Decieved. He may not have survived, but as far as I am concerned. He passed the test.”
Rows-in-loud-waters pondered for a moment and then closed the eyes of Hatchling on his lap. The wreckage of the battle around them reeked of shit and blood. "Goodbye, Nilchiiltatnawànàt." He inhaled and let out a long sigh. It ripped through him. He sobbed and tears dropped. "Goodbye..." The name echoed in his mind, and the meaning of the syllables slammed together. *Goodbye*, he thought, *Goodbye Died-in-honors-of-all.*
The chief bent over him, wrapping his arms around him and holding his shoulders. "We will see him again. I promise." Standing, he turned his back to Rows-in-loud-waters and looked over the battlefield. "Many of the men who died here will be seen again. Some will be seen in the final moments of the Last End. When we line up before the beat-giver he unfurls the hide of our hearts and examines the colors we dyed there. Should he find there are more colors of lust, hatred, envy, or pride than of love for one another and Him... We will have to answer for that."
Rows-in-loud-waters rose behind him and looked over the battlefield, he knew even the Deceived, flawed, and wrong, stood before the judgment of the beat-giver, regardless of their beliefs. Mangled men lay with broken arms and legs twisted in unnatural directions. The great wolves splayed out with matted fur and broken jaws. He scanned the carnage and another tear came along the curve of his cheek. "Will they attack again?" The sound of men directing clean-up echoed throughout the mass grave before him.
"The enemy will continue to push, ever-escalating the power at his disposal until he is finally defeated in the final moment of the Last End." The chief of the alligator clan offered his words and it warmed Rows-in-loud-waters' heart.
"I don't understand why we must wait for the living spirit of the forest to take on human flesh to defeat Naríhììnanathìnafòò'', a hint of anger rose in Rows-in-loud-waters’s voice as he placed his hatchets back against the belt that held his pants in place. "Why can we not hunt the enemy." He kicked the head of one of the enemy soldiers near him, forgetting his place and not respecting the dead that now belonged to the spirits.
"Even if you hunted every vessel of evil. Even if you slaughtered all the clans of Chììktonààn. You would remain with yourself and the evil in your blood and heart." The chief’s mouth twitched a bit, as he knelt and placed the enemy’s head back where it lay before the kick.
Rows-in-loud-waters took a step back, staggered by the thought he harbored some part of Naríhììnanathìnafòò in himself. "What do you mean? I have never accepted the tenets of evil. I do not forsake my vow to stewardship. I do not forsake my family. I do not forsake my god." He listed out the beliefs every man of the tribe agreed in their ideology. But the chief shook his head in response.
"You are thinking too largely, my friend." The chief pointed softly to the muscles over the heart of Rows-in-loud-waters and pointed out to the battlefield for them both to see. "It is not these large acts, though terrible, that will weigh our hearts with the ink of debt. It is the small ones. Like putting your wants above your wife's needs. Or talking back to your parents. The taint of Naríhììnanathìnafòò is in all of us from the earliest days of his coming to us. Big and small all these evils stain our hearts the same. The smaller ones are easier to commit."
"I... I don't know what to say", Rows-in-loud-waters stammered and stared down at his own feet.
The chief shrugged his shoulders. "Seldom does anyone. It is hard to imagine the taint or the extent of contamination that exists in the world. What we can do is attempt to bring our cousins back into the fold, so to speak, and lead them to a life of stewardship over the realm Wááchlachtat has given to us." The chief’s eyes closed and he mumbled under his breath. Turning again, he left the battlefield and the warrior behind him.
The banners flapped against the wind as they packed up. Men from each clan gathered the dead they had and placed them either over the backs of horses or over their shoulders. The three sisters, moons each larger than the last, trailed across the sky in various phases. Rows-in-loud-waters chose to carry Nilchiiltatnawànàat instead of casting him to the side on the back of a horse. The man's limp arm fell down Rows-in-loud-waters’s back and blood dripped. It trickled the sections of bare skin on Rows-in-loud-waters’s back.
They marched on into the night, headed back south toward their families in Eversun and the drums played a slow, solemn tone with each step they made through the woods. His eyes scanned from person to person. All their eyes cast down to the ground as if looking to make sure they would not trip and fall, but he knew they felt the pain of losing a young one or an unnamed one, or even a brother or a friend.
As they marched, the air started to smell more like home and less like sulfur and metal. The hint of pines, the stench of swamplands, and the sound of water lapping against the sides of shallow ponds in the soft wind. An inhale drug air into his lungs and past his nose where he sniffed the familiar smell of rotted leaves. As they left, he heard a voice from his left. When he turned to face and looked at the voice, no one stood in the darkness of the trees. A voice in his ear, or his heart, told him all calmed for now.

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” Memoria heard her partner say sarcastically.
Byrgenwerth, or what was left of it, lay in front of him and his partner. The abandoned college sat nestled by the side of Scorpion Lake, and it was clear it used to be a place of immense knowledge and beauty. Tall, orderly stone walls held the place up, a domed observatory on the roof. There was a balcony on the back facing the lake, which held a rocking chair to which Provost Willem had taken a liking. The exterior of the college was covered with cracks and vines, a testament to the age of the institution. Once well-kempt gardens surrounded the sturdy walls, and the many unique types of flora had long since escaped their pots and plots. The moons were low tonight, two crescents and one gibbous, against the dark night sky. Gray clouds covered the rest of the sky, giving a sort of ominous look to the old college.
“Aye,” Memoria replied. “And you think there’s the key to the beast cure here?”
Ludwig nodded. “Willem researched the blood before his disappearance. All of his notes and studies will be here unless someone destroyed them. Which is very likely.”
Memoria nearly jumped as an owl’s call broke the night’s silence
The Byrgenwerth scholars. What was it Laurence said about them? He said they had good intentions, but were “ineffective”, whatever that means.
“Let’s not spend any more time than needed here. This place is creepy, and I remember hearing stories of scholars going mad here. If we do find anything, shall we bring it back to Laurence?” Memoria asked. She exhaled a sigh of frostbreath, and she saw Ludwig shiver out of the corner of her eye.
“Yep. He was Willem’s best student, after all. Before he left the college. I really do need to ask him about that sometime.” Ludwig placed a claw on the top of the hilt of his holy silver sword, and Memoria put her wing around him.
“If anything happens, know I love you.” She whispered in his ear, and Ludwig couldn’t help but smile.
“We’ll be fine. We’ve fought worse than whatever could be in there.” She looked at him expectantly. “I love you too,” He added quickly. She kissed his cheek quickly before pulling away.
“Lead the way, Hunter,” Memoria called, and Ludwig blushed.
“Yes. Right. Follow me.” Ludwig drew his sword, and let it rest on his shoulder. Memoria similarly drew her own weapon, a sharp white katana forged in the blue fire of an Icewing forge. Passed down for generations, it was merely ornamental for hundreds of years.
But Memoria had found a use for it: hunting beasts. And furthermore, she found she could strengthen it with her own diseased, corrupted blood.
The looming shadow of Byrgenwerth threatened to blot out what little light the moons gave off.
Such a shadow brought back… unpleasant memories from Memoria’s dragonethood.
It’s in the past now. I’m safe from her now.
She steeled herself and brought her focus forward to the abandoned college. Ludwig was ahead of her on the beaten path. The savanna grasses around them rustled in the eerie winds.
“You alright?” Ludwig called back, noticing something was wrong without even having to look. Memoria wiped away a single tear before responding.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… was thinking about my mother.”
Ludwig winced slightly. “I’m here for you, you know.”
“I know. I’ll talk about it later. We’re busy right now.”
As soon as she finished that sentence, she thought she heard a loud crash from inside the building. Ludwig stopped walking and raised a talon to motion for Memoria to stop as well.
“There’s a beast in there. A big one. Should I?” He asked, gesturing to his sword. He was asking if he should transform it.
“No. Save your strength.” Memoria told him, and he nodded.
“Alright. Get ready, I’ll draw it out.” Memoria wasted no time, quickly hiding behind a large rock as cover. She held her blade out in front of her, ready to fight to her very last breath.
She peered out from her cover and saw Ludwig standing outside the large wooden doors that served as the entrance to the institution. She spied a brave look on his Nightwing face, and he carefully pulled open one of them.
He quickly darted to the side as a massive beast lunged at him.
It was three times the height of a dragon. It stood on two legs, like a human, and remnants of what used to be wings dangled from its back. Its haunches were bent unnaturally from the awkward position, and its two arms were long and bare. A mix of both fur and orange-black scales covered its body, and it had a mane of grayish fur around its head. Its body was very slim, and one could see its ribcage jutting out at just a glance. Its right arm was massive compared to its left, and what used to be its claws had been replaced by long curling fur. Blood stained its beastly hide.
Its face was wolf-like in shape; covered in fur, shaped like a canine, and blank, bare eyes. Two antlers, similar to a deer, protruded from the top of its head, and it had the most horrible, blood-curdling screech. The remains of a tattered white cloak hung from its back, and Memoria realized this fearsome beast was once a Hunter of the Sun.
The beast slammed its larger arm where Ludwig once stood, cracking the stone beneath. The agile Nightwing was already behind the beast, and he sliced at the beast’s left leg. His sword didn’t go all the way through, but it did draw a fair amount of blood. The beast staggered and fell to the ground in a lump. Memoria launched herself into the air, twisting her wings and tail to give herself more speed, and readied her katana. With the force of a falling meteor, she brought the blade down on the cut that Ludwig had made on the beast’s leg.
The sharp edge went straight through, severing from above the knee and crippling the beast. The beast screamed before flailing its massive arm around in the direction of Memoria. She swiftly backstepped and countered with a punishing blow. Her sword whistled through the air and planted itself in the tricep. It didn’t cut completely, and Memoria blew a gust of frostbreath across the wound, freezing it solid. Ludwig stomped on it, and the arm broke off. The pair took turns hacking at what was left of the beast until it fell silent. Its mangled, bloody corpse sat still on the stone ground, and the stars twinkled overhead.
Ludwig rested his sword on his shoulder. “That wasn’t too bad. I wonder what else lies in this wretched place.” He said coldly, and Memoria wiped some of the blood on her face away.
“I’ll be ready for it, whatever it is. The adrenaline is pumping now.” She said, flexing her claws. She held her katana out in front of her as she followed Ludwig into the building.
The entrance room of Byrgenwerth had clearly seen better days; it was a large circular room made from both stone and treestuff, and stray papers littered the floor. Scattered about were pools of blood and bones. In the center of the room, a silver chandelier had fallen. It lay sideways, half of it collapsed. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and round tables had been knocked over. The only light source in the room came from the windows above the bookshelves, dim moonlight pouring through. In front of them, on the far side of the room, were two stairways leading to a raised second floor. Pure mahogany pillars provided support for the second floor.
“Charming,” Memoria noted.
“Indeed. I pray Willem organized his studies, else this will take forever.” Ludwig sighed, taking in the sights of books and papers scattered everywhere.
“Look here,” Memoria called. She was standing next to a seemingly ordinary bookshelf, but she had spied a gold plaque labeled The Holy Blood resting proudly above it.
“This is it? Just one shelf? There has to be more.” Ludwig exclaimed and eagerly pulled a book from the shelf. It was covered in dust, and he shook it. A bookmark fell out, and Memoria felt the need to sneeze. He opened it to that page.
“The Byrgenwerth spider hides all manner of rituals from us. A terrible shame. It makes my head shudder uncontrollably.” Ludwig read aloud. “It was scrawled on a note.”
“The Byrgenwerth Spider? The hell is that?” Memoria asked. She hated spiders. Vile creatures.
“I don’t know. Let’s keep looking around.” He put the book back on the shelf.
“You don’t think we should take it with us? It might be important.” Memoria asked. He tilted it sideways so that it hung out of the shelf slightly.
“We’ll come back for it. Maybe. Depends on what else we find.” He turned to the next shelf and scoured for anything interesting. “I’ll try to find something else about the ‘Byrgenwerth Spider’.”
Memoria pulled a random book from the first shelf, and read the title. “The Holy Blood: The key to ascension?”
She turned to the first page and felt her eyes strain to read in the dim light.
The holy blood. Discovered in A.S. 5123. Taken from the corpse of what we now call “Great Ones”.
The first Great One was discovered washed up on the southern shore of Pantala. It was a queer being, one unlike anything any other dragon had seen before. Unfortunately, I was never able to see the body myself; but a few of my colleagues were. They described it as being a mix between human and fish. Its lower half was white in color and strongly resembled a flounder. Its top half shared similar features to that of a female human, except for the lack of a face.
Indeed, one of the most interesting reports was that a few individuals weren’t able to see the corpse at all; they were only able to perceive it after more knowledgeable scientists described it to them.
“Ludwig? What do you remember about the origins of the blood?” She called to her partner, who had lost himself in a tattered book.
“Uh… it came from some sort of monster that washed up near the remnants of Bloodworm, before the rebuilding process,” Memoria saw him rub his head. “And… I think a few scientists wanted to test how the blood would affect their bodies.”
“I found a book on that, look here.” She saw Ludwig fold the corner of the book he was reading, and walk over to her. “Look here: There was a strange group of scientists that wanted to test the physical tissues and blood of the corpse. Strange, I had thought at the time. But that was before we knew the power that the blood held.” She read.
“Is there a page about me?” Ludwig asked mischievously.
“I don’t know. I think this book was published before the outbreak… but I’ll look anyway.” Memoria flipped to the table of contents, and… yep. There it was. Page 320: Ludwig, The Holy Blade. “Page 320. Moons above, I pray there’s nothing here to stoke your ego even more.” Memoria muttered under her breath. She felt Ludwig’s wing over her, and she leaned into her lover. “Ludwig, The Holy Blade. Ludwig is an associate of Laurence, and is widely considered to be Gehrman’s best student.” Memoria sighed. She saw a smirk on his face, and she kept reading. “However, he isn’t known for his combat skill as much as he is known for his Holy Blade. Indeed, during the A.S. 5123 expeditions into the Abyss (see page 140), Ludwig, one of the Abyss Divers, discovered a strange greatsword. It was roughly half the length of a full-grown dragon and forged from a strange metal that looked similar to silver. He claimed the sword ‘called to him’ and that it ‘talked to him’.” Memoria glanced over at him. “Does it actually?”
Ludwig nodded. “It used to. It hasn’t in a while. A month or two.”
“Wait, it actually did? I thought you just said it did. For the press, or for your reputation.” Memoria looked a little surprised.
“It whispers to me. Grants me the courage to keep fighting. Remember the Battle of the Crimson Grasses? How do you think I kept fighting for so long?” He asked her.
“I… I never thought about that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you right now, dear. What else does the book say?” He asked. Memoria turned her attention back to the book.
“While in battle, some say that the blade takes a different form. Glowing with a light not unlike the Aurora Borealis in the Ice Kingdom, the blade grows in shape, and intricate patterns and markings appear on the magical surface. While it may be animus-touched, it is also very likely that this magic could be something else entirely.” She finished the paragraph, and then promptly closed the book. “We’re getting distracted. Let’s keep looking for actually important stuff. Don’t forget why we came here. Why don’t we go to Willem’s study?” She suggested, and Ludwig sighed.
“My sword isn’t animus-touched. It's special.” He grumbled, and Memoria suppressed a laugh. She put the book back in its place.
“Come. It’s on the second floor, right? It would make sense.”
“I think it is. It’s been a while since I asked Laurence about this place, and even longer since I’ve visited. I think the last time was… it was before I had found my blade.” He said.
The pair flew up to the second floor, and much like the first, stray papers and books littered the floor. Ahead, there was a rather ominous-looking door centered in the wall.
“I think that would be Willem’s study. Don’t know what else it could be.” Ludwig opened the door carefully, and the hinges creaked loudly.
Willem’s study was circular in shape, with a single desk in the middle. Strangely enough, the room was almost completely barren otherwise, besides a few neat stacks of books on the ground and a sheet of paper on Willem’s desk. There was something hastily scrawled on it, and Memoria couldn’t help but wonder why Willem’s room was so orderly after all this time.
Ludwig stepped forward, and read the note. Memoria studied the stacks of books. Most of them had something to do with the blood, and a small few were about beasts.
“Memoria? What is ‘paleblood’?” He asked, and Memoria read the note.
Willem was right. Paleblood is the key.
The handwriting was very messy, and a splatter of blood marked the bottom corner of the paper.
“Paleblood… I’ve never heard of it.” Memoria said, and Ludwig turned the note over.
Three third cords.
Once again, Memoria had no clue as to what ‘three-third cords’ meant.
“Strange. Keep it, maybe it’ll be useful later.” Memoria told Ludwig, and he shoved it into a leather pouch.
“Three third cords. Paleblood. Maybe those books mention it.” Ludwig said and pointed to the neat stacks of books. Just from a quick glance at the titles, none mentioned anything about paleblood or cords.
“Nothing in the titles. Did Laurence ever mention anything about Paleblood? He was Blood Minister, he would surely know of all the types of blood there are.” Memoria asked her partner.
“I don’t recall. Paleblood sounds new to me, so probably not. I’ll ask anyway. He’s probably second best to Willem himself. No, third best. The second best would be these books.” He picked up one and flipped to the table of contents. “Nothing in this one. This one’s about the ‘changes in a Hivewing’s homeostatic system under the effects of blood’. Rubbish. What do these big words even mean?” He asked rhetorically.
“Well. It looks like we have the rest of the night carved out for us.” Memoria sat down on the floor, curling up against the wall and flipping through one of the more promising books. Ludwig sat beside her, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they read together. It was a moment of comfort; a moment of love. Such moments were rare in these times. Rarer than one would think.
…
Memoria lay against a cliff face on the shoreline. It was a little after dusk, and they were about halfway to the designated meeting spot. They were about to settle in for the night, to get some sleep that they both desperately needed. It had been days since they last slept, and Memoria’s eyes were so very tired from the night of reading yesterday.
“Shame we didn’t get that much information. But we do have something to look out for: Paleblood, and three-third cords.” Ludwig said from across camp, and he stoked the flames of a campfire with his own breath. His black scales threatened to disappear in the dark of the night.
“More than we started with. And that’s all that matters, right? Our journey wasn’t wasted.” The Hive-Icewing stretched her four white wings and yawned.
“Oh, I know it wasn’t wasted. All of these damn books, they’re so heavy.”
“Are you ready for the attack?” Memoria asked him. He glanced at his holy blade, which was resting on a nearby rock. He paused for a moment, and Memoria saw a shadow of uncertainty on his face.
“I… I’m not sure. It sounded great at first, but… I’m worried. We’ll lose a lot of Hunters that day… I hope it works.” He said quietly, and Memoria heard a tinge of pain in his voice.
“I think I might go to sleep now. I’m tired.” Memoria sighed, lying down on the soft dirt. She closed her eyes, and she felt someone sit next to her. Ludwig touched her back softly, and Memoria felt herself drifting off.
“Have I ever sung what used to be my mother’s favorite song for you?” He asked, and Memoria shook her head.
“No, I don’t think so. I would love to hear it, though.”
Ludwig cleared his throat before singing in a soft, gentle voice.
“Well come and well met, my brave little spark.” His voice soothed her worries, any fears she had.
“How long you’ve wandered, burned bright as a star.
Oh, I have awaited you patiently all this time.
Past every fate
Now sing with me once more, share of your life.” Memoria couldn’t help but move a little closer to her partner’s warmth.
“Far greater than memory, its loss and love words cannot hold
Boundless the tale overflows.” Ludwig whispered softly, and Memoria could feel herself slipping away, into the realm of dreams.
“And carries your light out to sea…”
May the good blood guide your way.
Ultima_8

https://i.imgur.com/XQs5CwJ.jpg
All prices are obo. Feel free to ask for any additional pictures/action videos.

Spyderco Lil Native - $100

• Did the edge and choil mod myself and think it came out pretty enough. Took a real keen edge. Otherwise like new.

Sold CKF Sukhoi v1 - $300 - Awesome action, no serious wear marks I can find. Edge has been sharpened and it smiled into the choil area a bit.
Sold Benchmade 710 D2 - $150 - Some minor staining and scratches on the blade. Edge has been sharpened, solid action, no wear in the handle.

Caelum Bladeworks Ari - $200

• Like new, factory edge, perfect action, etc. Has been carried and cut some basic stuff but I cannot find wear marks.

Sold before listing ZT 0640

Defcon Recon - $150

• Weird knife from a weird manufacturer. Brand new, never carried or used. Has an interesting detent ball built into the liner in addition to the bar lock.

Kansept Agent - $100

• Modded new from way of knives. Handle has a weird defect causing the slabs to warp, which affected the action. Has been remedied by removing the middle screw for the standoff and allowing a gap between the backspacer and handle. Great action currently. Blade's acid wash has some light rust spotting - I haven't tried to wipe it off for fear of affecting the etch. I sharpened the edge after receiving it and once again it smiled in the choil area. Minor snail trails in the handle ano.

Kansept Kryo - $125

• Handle ano'd and shows snail trails. Edge has been sharpened. Great action.

Sold Arno Bernard iMamba - $300 - Amazing custom for the price. Blade is acid washed after market - lockup and detent track were masked properly so action is still great. one minor snail trail on the handle, otherwise no wear from carry or use.
Sold Assassin Knives Bowfin (design by Parson Bladeworks) - $100 - Random custom from a random maker in Armenia. Studs were added aftermarket, and the front flipper has been ground a little bit to make it more comfy. Smooth action and one of the better detents from this maker. Heavy handle is solid Ti will make this a sturdy beater. Very thin grind will slice nicely.
Sold ZT 0609 - $125 - Handle ano'd blue, edge has been sharpened, minor use and carry marks. Aftermarket timascus clip. Bit of detent play while closed, which this knife had when I got it new. Will come with the pivot tool.

A2D Mercantile Mk3 Medium Barlock - $500

• Lightly carried, sharpened. Magnacut blade steel, Bakelite handle scales. Only mark I can find is a light scratch on the pocket clip.

APurvis Rook - $250

• Like new. light carry snail trails, but never really cut anything with it. Comes with extra micarta scales.

Finch Reciprocity - $100

• Has been carried and used but shows no wear. Sharpened edge.