Hi y'all, I've been seeing a rheumatologist for a couple months. It started with gastro symptoms, and then continued to arthritis, itching but no rash, fatigue, muscle weakness, swollen tender lymphnodes in neck arm pit and groin, cheat pain, pain with deep breaths, rolling low grade fevers (37.4 to 38.2) and weight loss. I have a 320 ANA, 320 speckled and 320 homogeneous ANA. I was diagnosed yesterday with Adult Stills disease but I'm having a hard know if stomach issues are involved.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

Demographics: 31M. 5’11” 220lbs
Dx: depression, ADHD, OCD(much worse in childhood, well managed now)
Meds: Prozac 20mg daily, Adderall 5mg BID, Lamictal 50mg daily (titrating up, problems started before this med)
Hi. I’ve had problems with fatigue and depression for quite a while but they have recently gotten worse. I saw my PCP to run some labs, but everything looked more or less alright and no explanation for the way I’m feeling.
I had a sore throat and a swollen lymph node in my neck with debilitating fatigue that put me down for days. I was negative for Covid, flu, strep, and mono (and maybe other viruses on a panel). They gave me augmentin and said follow up with PCP if swelling doesn’t go away.
So I’m about a month post that appointment. My lymph node is still palpably swollen but not very tender anymore. No sore throat. Still very fatigued. I’m scheduling with my PCP.
The fatigue has been something I’ve been treating as depression/ADHD for years now and it feels like I’ve thrown everything and the kitchen sink at it, and still hardly any relief besides some momentary improvement when starting a new med that eventually doesn’t work anymore.
I feel like something is really wrong with me and this is really touching every aspect of my life. Any insight or advice?

Hi guys.
I have been through the ringer with medical testing and imaging these last few months. Brain Ct/MRI, Spine MRI, head and neck angiogram, doctor visits, neuro visits, optometrist visits and nobody can figure out what is going on with me. I have done ecgs and blood work as well (have an appointment for hormone blood work and a d dimer this friday to rule out everything just in case.
I am not really congested (feel like i can breathe in through the nose fine. but my forehead and under my eyes have a ...pressure? it goes super warm on my forehead and upper cheek area, as if someone is holding a flame there with no fever. this is the absolute worst in the morning. My vision is the scariest symptom. It is very blurred and this came on suddenly. I have ruled out all the scary stuff and all seems good. My optometrist did confirm that my vision got very bad in 3 months and should not have gotten this bad this quick. He is sending me to an ophthalmologist.
These are my current symptoms: blurred vision (so scary) and the occasional black floaters- mostly in the morning, the blurred vision is constant ear fullness/pressure r lymph node has been swollen for awhile, is slightly tender headaches/neck pain pins and needles sometimes into my whole arm, often just the finger tips. minor palpitations/chest pain on occasion
brain MRI/CT indicated a bunch of sinus issues.
CT was on March 14th- Mild mucosal thickening involving the paranasal sinuses. The mastoidair cells are clear.
Mri was on March 29- Mucosalthickening of the maxillary sinus ethmoid sinus and frontalsinus. Heterogeneous T2 signal with restricted effusion inthe region of the pharyngeal tonsils. No enhancingcollection to suggest abscess. Increased signal within the pharyngeal tonsils, likelyinfectious/inflammatory. I was not ill when these were taken. I still dont feel ill. If anyone would like to see images, let me know.
Angiogram- Mildly prominent bilateral upper cervical lymph nodes, which are most likely reactive in this age group. Visualized lung apices are clear.
I am currently waiting for an ENT and ophtalmologist to call me back for appointments. and I will be headed to the pharmacy at lunch to get a steroid spray.
Any feed back is appreciated!! Sorry for the long post. <3

Hi guys.
I have been through the ringer with medical testing and imaging these last few months. Brain Ct/MRI, Spine MRI, head and neck angiogram, doctor visits, neuro visits, optometrist visits and nobody can figure out what is going on with me. I have done ecgs and blood work as well (have an appointment for hormone blood work and a d dimer this friday to rule out everything just in case.
I am not really congested (feel like i can breathe in through the nose fine. but my forehead and under my eyes have a ...pressure? it goes super warm on my forehead and upper cheek area, as if someone is holding a flame there with no fever. this is the absolute worst in the morning. My vision is the scariest symptom. It is very blurred and this came on suddenly. I have ruled out all the scary stuff and all seems good. My optometrist did confirm that my vision got very bad in 3 months and should not have gotten this bad this quick. He is sending me to an ophthalmologist.
These are my current symptoms: blurred vision (so scary) and the occasional black floaters- mostly in the morning, the blurred vision is constant ear fullness/pressure r lymph node has been swollen for awhile, is slightly tender headaches/neck pain pins and needles sometimes into my whole arm, often just the finger tips. minor palpitations/chest pain on occasion
brain MRI/CT indicated a bunch of sinus issues.
CT was on March 14th- Mild mucosal thickening involving the paranasal sinuses. The mastoidair cells are clear.
Mri was on March 29- Mucosalthickening of the maxillary sinus ethmoid sinus and frontalsinus. Heterogeneous T2 signal with restricted effusion inthe region of the pharyngeal tonsils. No enhancingcollection to suggest abscess. Increased signal within the pharyngeal tonsils, likelyinfectious/inflammatory. I was not ill when these were taken. I still dont feel ill. If anyone would like to see images, let me know.
Angiogram- Mildly prominent bilateral upper cervical lymph nodes, which are most likely reactive in this age group. Air-fluid level within the right maxillary sinus. The mastoid air cells areclear.
I am currently waiting for an ENT and ophtalmologist to call me back for appointments. and I will be headed to the pharmacy at lunch to get a steroid spray.
Any feed back is appreciated!! Sorry for the long post. <3

I took my first shot yesterday morning and by the evening around 6pm, the skin on my face, back and front of my neck and back is very tender. Its a superficial pain, kind of like a sunburn. What is this? Is this normal?
This morning the pain is worse but still tolerable. No other side effects besides a little bit of a tummyache and some nausea, which I expected. But why does my skin hurt??? Its kind of freaking me out

March 5 I had a sparring injury with my partner which ended up giving me headaches, also sharp pain back of neck looking down
Next week neurologist advises me to have a brain MRI which came out normal, diagnosed with post concussion syndrome
A few weeks later during a long exam with my neck mostly hunched over right eye/temple area suddenly starting aching and felt as if it was being squeezed, came home with pain in my right sternocleidomastoid area
Went to doctor who diagnosed me with sinusitis but I felt it was highly unlikely since I never really had sinus problems
During holy week suffered with severe anxiety and developed pain in jaw, teeth, sinus areas etc also difficulty swallowing
Went to the hospital for a new neurologist and felt like my whole neck was burning, he said how it was mostly anxiety but I should have an MRI of my cervical spine just in case
Next week I had it and it said straightening of the cervical spine maybe due to muscle spasm. Doctor prescribed me to take PT which I take 1-2x per week and trying to do the home exercises consistently. Don’t really notice any progress yet but thats because I havent done them consistently
Heres my full list of symptoms, or at least the ones I’ve experienced so far: - Headaches mostly dull and achy in nature, constantly moves around head and face. Very rarely pinching, burning, tingly, pressure sensations. Not super painful but distracting sometimes. Seems to dissipate/reduce in frequency when fixing posture. - Tenderness at base of skull or back of neck - Trouble swallowing - Random neck pains and muscle spasms - Pain in thoracic spine area when looking down - Straightened cervical spine - Neck cracking and grinding when moving it - vertigo? Not sure tho - anxiety (nowhere as bad as a month ago though) - weird bubbly sound in ear when yawning or burping - nostrils get more congested than usual - hands went numb for a day, happened while I was writing stuff for school - occasional finger pain and twitching (could be related to overuse from gaming)
Both my new neurologist and I think it has something to do with my neck (musculoskeletal) but I also think it could be because of cervical instability because a lot of my symptoms line up with it. What do you guys think?

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have shared a deep love for the great outdoors, particularly the enchanting allure of the forest. The allure of nature's symphony, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the melodious songs of birds never failed to captivate our senses. The verdant foliage, adorned with vibrant flowers, created a kaleidoscope of colors that danced before our eyes, while the towering trees whispered ancient secrets to those who would listen. It was a place where tranquility and serenity embraced us, soothing our souls in the embrace of nature's embrace.
Our excursions into the wilderness were often brief, day trips filled with laughter, exploration, and a shared appreciation for the natural wonders around us. But the recent addition of an RV to our family provided an opportunity to embark on a new adventure—an overnight camping trip nestled within the embrace of majestic mountains and the allure of the forest.
Excitement bubbled within us as we meticulously planned our journey. We imagined gathering around a crackling fire, its warm glow casting dancing shadows upon our faces. The scent of burning wood mingling with the crisp mountain air would create an intoxicating aroma that would forever be etched in our memories.
Finally, the day arrived, and we eagerly set off, our RV becoming our mobile sanctuary. The journey itself was a testament to the beauty of the land we traversed. Majestic peaks rose like sentinels, their snow-capped summits piercing the heavens. As we delved deeper into the heart of nature's domain, our anticipation heightened, and our hearts beat in sync with the rhythm of the forest.
Upon reaching our destination, we carefully parked our RV, a tiny fortress amidst the towering giants. The forest seemed to embrace us, its silence broken only by the distant chirping of birds bidding us welcome. The air carried a crispness that invigorated our spirits, as if it whispered tales of forgotten legends and ancient mysteries.
With each step we took, the forest welcomed us into its secret realm. Our senses were intoxicated by the sweet aroma of pine needles underfoot, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil. Sunlight, filtered through the canopy above, created dappled patterns on the forest floor, like nature's own mesmerizing tapestry.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the campsite, we gathered around the fire pit. Amelia, our adventurous and nature-loving daughter, was brimming with excitement at the prospect of building a fire.
Amelia's eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together, her voice filled with anticipation. "Dad, I can't wait to make the fire! Can I help? Please?"
A smile stretched across my face, mirroring the twinkle in her eyes. I nodded, appreciating her eagerness to participate in this age-old ritual of outdoor adventure.
"Absolutely, Amelia," I replied, my voice laced with fatherly pride. "You can gather some dry branches and twigs. Just be careful not to venture too far into the forest."
With an enthusiastic nod, Amelia seized a small, weathered basket and darted towards the beckoning trees and rustling underbrush.
"Watch out for the prickly bushes, sweetheart!" I called out, a touch of caution in my voice. "And remember, stay within sight!"
Her voice, tinged with determination, floated back to me on the gentle breeze. "Don't worry, Dad! I'll find the best branches!"
As Amelia vanished into the verdant embrace of the forest, my wife, Emma, emerged from our trusty RV. Her graceful movements belied her quiet excitement as she retrieved the carefully packed food provisions from within.
Emma's nimble fingers unwrapped the ingredients with a practiced ease, her eyes glimmering with a mix of culinary artistry and familial warmth. She hummed a gentle tune under her breath, her love for nurturing our family evident in every deliberate action.
Meanwhile, I busied myself by unloading the essential cooking equipment from the storage compartments. With the clinking of metal against metal, I extracted the gleaming grill grate and stoked the coals, preparing the stage for a delicious outdoor feast.
After a while, with a skip in her step and a glimmer of triumph in her eyes, Amelia emerged from the lush foliage, clutching a trove of dry branches and twigs within the sturdy basket. Yet, nestled in the crook of her other arm was an unexpected treasure—an enchanting discovery that had captured her young heart.
Amelia's voice bubbled with excitement as she approached, her words tumbling forth. "Dad! Look what I found! It's a small Teddy bear! Isn't it adorable?"
Curiosity sparked within me as I studied the small, weathered toy she presented. Its once vibrant colors had faded, its fur slightly disheveled, but it bore an undeniable charm. A silent narrative unfolded before my eyes, envisioning the laughter and companionship this cherished possession once brought to another child.
A mixture of caution and wonder mingled in my voice as I questioned, "Where did you find it, sweetheart? It seems someone may have lost it."
Amelia's face radiated with innocence and genuine affection for her newfound friend. "I found it near a tree, Daddy. Maybe another family played here, and the Teddy bear got left behind. Can I keep it, please?"
My instinctual protective nature rose, a desire to shield her from the potential disappointments that accompany lost treasures. Yet, a tender understanding blossomed within me. This small act of generosity and acceptance would foster her sense of empathy and compassion.
Considering her wide-eyed enthusiasm, I yielded to the warmth in my heart. "Alright, Amelia," I relented with a gentle smile. "If it brings you joy and reminds you of this beautiful adventure, then you can keep it."
Amelia's jubilant squeal filled the air, punctuating the acceptance of her request. With an affectionate hug, she embraced her newfound companion, promising it a future filled with endless tea parties and imaginary adventures.
Afer I set the fire, with a satisfying crackle, the flames sprang to life, dancing and flickering in a mesmerizing rhythm. The golden tendrils reached towards the night sky, casting a warm glow upon our faces. The radiant heat embraced us, dispelling the chill of the evening air as we gathered around the enchanting inferno.
I meticulously arranged the equipment we had brought, positioning the sturdy metal grill over the roaring fire. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the tantalizing aroma of seasoned meat, sizzling and sputtering as it made contact with the heated grates. The tantalizing melody of crackling embers serenaded our senses, a symphony of anticipation and contentment.
My wife, her eyes sparkling with both determination and tenderness, deftly prepared the ingredients that would transform into a feast of flavors. The rhythmic symphony of chopping, the aromatic dance of herbs and spices, and the gentle sizzle of ingredients meeting the heated pan created a harmonious tableau of culinary artistry.
Amelia, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, took her place by my side, her small hands outstretched in eager anticipation. I showed her how to position the meat on the grill, carefully instructing her on the art of achieving the perfect sear. Her youthful enthusiasm ignited a sense of pride within me, as I witnessed her embracing the opportunity to contribute to our family's culinary adventure.
“We still need some firewood. I will get some until it gets darker. I will be right back!,” I told Emma and I delved deeper into the wilderness.
The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a symphony of nature enveloping me as I wandered amidst towering trees. My fingers brushed against dry leaves and moss-covered rocks, searching for the elusive twigs and branches necessary to further kindle our flames.
But my curiosity led me further ahead, my gaze alighting upon something beyond the ordinary. "What the hell," I murmured, my voice was like a whisper amidst the wilderness.
My my heart was quickening as I glimpsed the outline of a vehicle amidst the foliage. It stood solitary and still, like a relic from another time, its metal frame weathered by the passage of seasons.
I hesitated whether or not to go closer, my instincts prickling with unease.
"Perhaps just another camper," I told myself, though doubt lingered in my mind.
Then I changed my mind the hairs were raising on the back of my neck and walked away from the silent sentinel of metal and glass.
I retraced my steps through the labyrinth of trees, the distant echo of our footsteps mingling with the whispers of the forest. I was immediately relieved as the warmth of our camp awaited me and I was not sure if I should tell Emma that I had seen another RV deeper in the forest. I decided not to, it might ruin the warm athmosphere of our moments.
The crackling fire and the tantalizing aroma of the cooking meat wove an enchanting tapestry around us, casting a spell that encapsulated the essence of togetherness. As the minutes ticked by, we shared stories, laughter, and the warmth of familial love. The darkness around us seemed to fade away, replaced by the glow of our shared experiences and the promise of a memorable night.
In that moment, it was not just the flickering flames that illuminated our campsite, but the intangible bond we shared as a family. We were not merely three individuals gathered around a fire, but a tapestry of love, connection, and shared dreams. The crackling fire served as a beacon, illuminating the path towards a future filled with shared adventures, cherished memories, and an unbreakable bond that would withstand the tests of time.
As we reveled in the joyous harmony of food and company, the night sky glittered above, painting a breathtaking backdrop for our intimate gathering. The stars, like sparkling witnesses, bore witness to the magic that unfolded in that humble campsite.
In the symphony of crackling flames and joyful chatter, we savored the beauty of simplicity, finding solace and fulfillment in the warmth of our shared presence. It was in this tranquil moment, surrounded by the wilderness and enveloped in the embrace of our loved ones, that we realized the true essence of life's blessings—a serene respite from the world's chaos, and the unrivaled joy of being together, just the three of us.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering the world to the embrace of darkness, a palpable chill crept into the air, sending shivers down our spines. Wisps of mist curled and swirled around us, lending an ethereal quality to the night.
Feeling the temperature drop, I retrieved a thick, cozy blanket from the confines of our trusty RV. Its soft fabric, woven with memories of past adventures, held the promise of warmth and comfort. Gently draping the blanket over Emma and Amelia, I ensured their precious forms were shielded from the encroaching cold.
Amelia, her energy waning with each passing moment, fought against the drowsiness tugging at her eyelids. Her yawns, like tiny symphonies of weariness, punctuated the tranquility of the evening. Sensing her fatigue, I knelt down beside her, my voice filled with gentle concern.
"Sweetheart, it's getting late and you look tired," I whispered, my breath carrying warmth in the crisp night air. "Would you like to go to bed?"
Amelia's eyes, still sparkling with the remnants of excitement, met mine. A yawn escaped her lips, a delicate melody of exhaustion. However, her spirit remained steadfast, determined to revel in every last moment of our outdoor escapade.
"No, Daddy," she replied, her voice a soft murmur. "I'm not sleepy yet. I want to stay here and enjoy the campfire."
Her response resonated with the boundless enthusiasm of youth, and I couldn't help but smile at her unwavering spirit. In that instant, I understood that this was a rare and precious opportunity—a chance to immerse ourselves in the magic of the night, to surrender to the allure of the crackling flames and the mysteries concealed within the darkness.
Then I thought of the camper van that I had just seen and for some reason, it made me feel uneasy. Trying to ignore it, I settled myself beside Amelia, the fire's radiant glow casting enchanting shadows upon our faces. Emma, her hand tenderly clasping mine, joined us, her presence a comforting reassurance amidst the whispering night.
As we sat there, the crackling fire casting an otherworldly glow upon our little circle, a symphony of silence enveloped us. The distant chirping of nocturnal creatures mingled with the soft crackling of the firewood, creating a harmonious lullaby that serenaded us into a state of tranquil contentment.
Stars, like celestial lanterns, punctured the ink-black canvas above, their shimmering brilliance a testament to the vastness of the universe and the infinite possibilities that lay beyond our mortal reach. The fragrant scent of pine mingled with the smoky essence of the campfire, intoxicating our senses and anchoring us to this moment of fleeting serenity.
Time seemed suspended, as if the world had paused to allow us this respite from the frenetic pace of life. We basked in the warmth of the fire, our souls nourished by the shared silence and the bond forged through the simple act of being present with one another.
But amidst the tranquil symphony of nature, a rustling in the nearby underbrush shattered the stillness. The sudden disruption reverberated through the air, jolting us from our serene reverie. Emma's eyes widened, her hand instinctively tightening its grip around mine. Amelia, her youthful curiosity piqued, looked to me for reassurance.
"What was that, Daddy?" Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
I cast a soothing smile in her direction, my attempt to allay any growing fears. "It's probably just an animal, sweetheart," I reassured her, my voice carrying a calm certainty. "Maybe a deer or a boar exploring the woods. Nothing to be worried about."
Yet, as the rustling persisted, growing louder and more distinct, even I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of my composure. The sound seemed to possess an undeniable weight, suggesting a presence larger and more formidable than initially anticipated.
Emma's eyes darted nervously between the surrounding trees, her senses attuned to the slightest movement. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension. "It sounds quite... substantial."
Instinctively, I rose to my feet, my protective instincts surging within me. "Stay here," I instructed, my voice firm but laden with an undercurrent of caution. "I'll go check it out. It's probably just passing through."
With cautious steps, I ventured toward the origin of the enigmatic rustling, my ears straining to decipher its source. I thought about the camper van. Was it possible that they could see our fire and wanted some company? That sounded ridiculous. Or could they have been in trouble? I should have checked that vehicle out.
Each crackle of twigs underfoot seemed to amplify in the stillness of the night, magnifying my senses. As I neared the treeline, anticipation mingled with a lingering sense of trepidation.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rustling ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The once vibrant symphony of nature now seemed muted, as if holding its breath in anticipation. I scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement, my heart thudding against my chest.
Slowly, I retraced my steps back to the warmth and safety of our campfire haven, my senses on high alert. Returning to my family, I wore a reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm despite the lingering mystery.
"It's alright," I assured them, my voice infused with a newfound conviction. "Whatever it was, it must have moved along. We're safe here."
Relief washed over their faces, their tense postures gradually easing. We settled back into our makeshift sanctuary, the familiarity of the crackling fire offering a comforting embrace. Our senses remained heightened, vigilant for any lingering signs of the unseen visitor.
Just as a semblance of calm began to settle over our campsite, an otherworldly roar pierced the night air, tearing through the fabric of serenity. The sound, far from the natural symphony we had grown accustomed to, possessed a menacing quality that resonated deep within our souls. Its metallic timbre reverberated through the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down our spines.
Amelia's eyes widened in terror, her small frame trembling with the weight of the unknown. Emma's expression mirrored the trepidation etched across our faces. This was no ordinary sound—a realization that hung heavy in the air.
"That... that doesn't sound like a deer or a boar," Emma stammered, her voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and dread. "What could it possibly be?"
Before we could ponder further, the deafening roar reverberated through the night once more, closer this time. Its proximity shattered any illusions of safety that had momentarily settled over us. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an electric sense of urgency. Our instincts kicked into overdrive, urging us to abandon our belongings and seek shelter.
"Leave everything!" I shouted, my voice laced with urgency. "We have to get to the RV now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, we sprang into action. Emma snatched Amelia's hand, her grip tight and resolute, while I scooped up our precious daughter into my arms.
“My bear,” she screamed and picked up her new toy, her tiny hands clung to the worn bear with an intensity that belied her tender age.
The campfire, once a symbol of warmth and tranquility, was abandoned in an instant as we sprinted toward the sanctuary of the RV.
The world around us blurred into a frenzy of motion as our legs carried us with desperate urgency. Fear propelled us forward, fueling our determination to reach safety. With each pounding heartbeat, the roar grew louder, its ominous resonance seemingly at our heels, a predator closing in on its prey.
Finally, we reached the welcoming embrace of the RV, its sturdy frame offering a semblance of refuge from the unknown terror that lurked beyond. I swiftly deposited Amelia onto the seat, her wide eyes reflecting the same mixture of fear and relief that mirrored our own.
As I fumbled with the keys, my hands trembling with a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety, I spared a glance back at the abandoned campsite. The darkness swallowed our belongings, the remnants of our interrupted evening left behind as a haunting reminder of the inexplicable menace that had disrupted our peaceful retreat.
With a trembling hand, I inserted the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life in harmony with the echoes of the unknown creature outside. The RV became our fortress, its metal walls shielding us from the terrors that lurked beyond.
As we peeled away from the once idyllic campsite, the wailing roar echoed in the distance. Our hearts raced in unison, our breaths coming in jagged gasps as we sought solace in the sanctuary of the rolling vehicle.
With a trembling hand gripping the steering wheel, I pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal, urging the RV to accelerate. The vehicle responded with a surge of power, propelling us forward with a newfound urgency. The engine roared in unison with the thundering beat of my heart, creating a symphony of adrenaline-fueled chaos.
As the wheels churned beneath us, the surrounding trees became a blur of green and brown, their branches reaching out like ghostly specters in our wake. The world outside the windows shifted in a dizzying dance, a kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses and fleeting shadows.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, casting elongated shadows that flickered and danced upon the passing foliage. Each passing plant and tree seemed to contort and twist in the ethereal glow, their distorted forms morphing into grotesque silhouettes of their former selves.
A heavy silence settled within the RV, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic whoosh of the rushing wind. Our breaths remained caught in our chests, suspended in a shared state of shock and disbelief. The weight of what we had witnessed hung in the air, a chilling reminder that the boundaries of our world were not as fixed as we had once believed.
The scene we had left behind in the forest haunted our thoughts—a glimpse into a realm far removed from our own, something demonic, something that defied explanation. The image of that otherworldly roar and the malevolent presence it implied lingered like a scar etched into our memories, forever imprinted upon our souls.
Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as we raced along the winding road, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Our collective relief remained just out of reach, overshadowed by the lingering unease that clung to us like a specter. The distance between the forest and the main road seemed interminable, every curve and bend in the road prolonging our escape.
Finally, the familiar sight of the main road materialized before us, a beacon of respite in the darkness. As the RV merged onto its paved embrace, a collective sigh of relief cascaded through the cabin. The weight that had burdened our shoulders began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of safety and security.
Yet, despite the relief that washed over us, the memory of the demonic encounter refused to dissipate as we were heading home. We knew that what we had witnessed in the depths of the forest would forever remain a haunting enigma, a testament to the boundless mysteries that lurk on the fringes of our understanding.
With weary bodies and restless minds, we arrived back at the familiar sanctuary of our home. The weight of the night's harrowing encounter clung to us like a heavy shroud, making the simple act of finding solace in sleep an arduous task. We all slept in the same bed that night. Tossing and turning beneath the covers, we battled against the remnants of fear that lingered within the recesses of our thoughts.
Morning finally broke through the darkness, casting its tentative rays of light upon our weary faces. The sun's gentle warmth filtered through the curtains, offering a glimmer of respite from the lingering shadows of the night. We emerged from our sleep-deprived haze, grateful for the sanctuary that our home provided.
Gathering around the breakfast table, our shared silence spoke volumes. We sought solace in the simple act of breaking bread together, a familiar routine that offered a semblance of normalcy amidst the lingering unease. No words were spoken of the night's horrors; instead, we focused on the mundane tasks of the morning, the clinking of cutlery and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee serving as a comforting backdrop to our collective attempt at healing.
As the day unfolded, we busied ourselves with the routine tasks, finding solace in the familiar rhythms. Dusting shelves, tending to neglected plants, and tidying up the remnants of the night's chaos became acts of therapy, a means of grounding ourselves in the reassuring normalcy of domesticity.
The weight of exhaustion settled upon our shoulders, and we allowed ourselves moments of respite as the day wore on. Sunday, a day of rest, offered a reprieve. We retreated to the cozy corners of our home, seeking solace in the embrace of soft couches and plush pillows.
As the hours slipped away, a quiet calm enveloped our home. The once-turbulent waves of fear and uncertainty settled into a gentle ebb and flow. Laughter and conversation, began to permeate the air, intermingling with the familiar sounds of a household in motion.
As the evening sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the living room window, we settled down in front of the TV, seeking solace in laughter and lightheartedness.
I reached for the remote control, ready to immerse ourselves in the comedic world of a streaming service, when something caught our attention. The TV screen flickered to life, displaying the urgent and captivating headlines of the news. A mixture of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension filled the room, prompting me to pause and leave the news channel playing.
The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, delivering the shocking report of a missing family. My wife leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the TV, her voice trembling with concern. Amelia, her eyes wide with curiosity, leaned closer to the TV, her Teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms as she was listening to the newsreader.
“This is a breaking news update on a harrowing incident that has shaken the community to its core. The Hudson family, who embarked on a seemingly routine hiking trip into the serene depths of the nearby forest several weeks ago, has tragically met a devastating fate. Today, authorities have confirmed the discovery and identification of their camper van and remains, a discovery that has left investigators, medical examiners, and locals alike in a state of shock and disbelief. The process of identifying the bodies was nothing short of a nightmare for the dedicated team of forensic experts. The unimaginable horror that unfolded in those woods rendered their task exceptionally challenging. Their bodies, torn apart by an unknown and unimaginable force, presented investigators with an enigma that defied explanation. Their positions were grotesquely twisted, their injuries inexplicable and mind-boggling. According to the investigators, an unknown force seriously damaged their RV as well. Medical examiners, renowned for their expertise, were left dumbfounded as they grappled with the mysterious circumstances surrounding this tragic event. The sheer brutality of their demise left them searching for answers that seemed to lie just beyond their reach. The bite marks, enormous in size and ferocity, left on the bodies only added to the perplexity of the situation. Astonishingly, DNA testing revealed that these bite marks belonged to an unidentified creature, sending shockwaves of fear and disbelief through the community. The repercussions of this shocking revelation have reverberated throughout the town, leaving residents on edge and gripped by a pervasive sense of fear and uncertainty. The once serene forest, a place of solace and tranquility, now holds untold horrors that have shattered the peace and shattered the lives of the Hudson family. Authorities advise everyone not to go into the forest until they find out what happened and what killed the family.”
As the newsreader went on we all stopped eating our popocorn.
“In light of these disturbing developments, it is my duty to advise against venturing into the forest at this time. The safety and security that once accompanied our tranquil natural surroundings have been shattered, replaced by an aura of uncertainty and fear. Folks, we cannot ignore the evidence before us, the evidence that points to an unknown and terrifying presence within those woods. I understand the allure of nature's embrace, the desire to explore, to seek solace, and to reconnect with the world around us. However, in this moment, I implore you to prioritize your safety and exercise caution. The risk is simply too great, and the consequences too dire to ignore. I urge you to remain vigilant, to report any suspicious activities or unusual occurrences to the authorities immediately. Your eyes and ears are our greatest assets in keeping our town safe. Together, we can overcome this darkness and restore a sense of security to our beloved community. In the coming days and weeks, we will keep you updated on the progress of our investigations,” the country sheriff said to the reporter.
“We will continue to bring you updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. Our hearts go out to the Hudson family and all those affected by this unimaginable tragedy. Please stay tuned for further updates as we strive to unravel the mysteries that lie hidden within the depths of our world,” the newsreader said and they showed some photos of the Hudson family.
The images on the screen showed their smiling faces, frozen in time. The thought that the camper van I saw in the forest was the crime scene of a brutal and unexplained murder not far from our camp, sent chills down on my spine. This was something I kept to myself. But we all thought about the same thing: the next ones could have been us.

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have shared a deep love for the great outdoors, particularly the enchanting allure of the forest. The allure of nature's symphony, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the melodious songs of birds never failed to captivate our senses. The verdant foliage, adorned with vibrant flowers, created a kaleidoscope of colors that danced before our eyes, while the towering trees whispered ancient secrets to those who would listen. It was a place where tranquility and serenity embraced us, soothing our souls in the embrace of nature's embrace.
Our excursions into the wilderness were often brief, day trips filled with laughter, exploration, and a shared appreciation for the natural wonders around us. But the recent addition of an RV to our family provided an opportunity to embark on a new adventure—an overnight camping trip nestled within the embrace of majestic mountains and the allure of the forest.
Excitement bubbled within us as we meticulously planned our journey. We imagined gathering around a crackling fire, its warm glow casting dancing shadows upon our faces. The scent of burning wood mingling with the crisp mountain air would create an intoxicating aroma that would forever be etched in our memories.
Finally, the day arrived, and we eagerly set off, our RV becoming our mobile sanctuary. The journey itself was a testament to the beauty of the land we traversed. Majestic peaks rose like sentinels, their snow-capped summits piercing the heavens. As we delved deeper into the heart of nature's domain, our anticipation heightened, and our hearts beat in sync with the rhythm of the forest.
Upon reaching our destination, we carefully parked our RV, a tiny fortress amidst the towering giants. The forest seemed to embrace us, its silence broken only by the distant chirping of birds bidding us welcome. The air carried a crispness that invigorated our spirits, as if it whispered tales of forgotten legends and ancient mysteries.
With each step we took, the forest welcomed us into its secret realm. Our senses were intoxicated by the sweet aroma of pine needles underfoot, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil. Sunlight, filtered through the canopy above, created dappled patterns on the forest floor, like nature's own mesmerizing tapestry.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the campsite, we gathered around the fire pit. Amelia, our adventurous and nature-loving daughter, was brimming with excitement at the prospect of building a fire.
Amelia's eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together, her voice filled with anticipation. "Dad, I can't wait to make the fire! Can I help? Please?"
A smile stretched across my face, mirroring the twinkle in her eyes. I nodded, appreciating her eagerness to participate in this age-old ritual of outdoor adventure.
"Absolutely, Amelia," I replied, my voice laced with fatherly pride. "You can gather some dry branches and twigs. Just be careful not to venture too far into the forest."
With an enthusiastic nod, Amelia seized a small, weathered basket and darted towards the beckoning trees and rustling underbrush.
"Watch out for the prickly bushes, sweetheart!" I called out, a touch of caution in my voice. "And remember, stay within sight!"
Her voice, tinged with determination, floated back to me on the gentle breeze. "Don't worry, Dad! I'll find the best branches!"
As Amelia vanished into the verdant embrace of the forest, my wife, Emma, emerged from our trusty RV. Her graceful movements belied her quiet excitement as she retrieved the carefully packed food provisions from within.
Emma's nimble fingers unwrapped the ingredients with a practiced ease, her eyes glimmering with a mix of culinary artistry and familial warmth. She hummed a gentle tune under her breath, her love for nurturing our family evident in every deliberate action.
Meanwhile, I busied myself by unloading the essential cooking equipment from the storage compartments. With the clinking of metal against metal, I extracted the gleaming grill grate and stoked the coals, preparing the stage for a delicious outdoor feast.
After a while, with a skip in her step and a glimmer of triumph in her eyes, Amelia emerged from the lush foliage, clutching a trove of dry branches and twigs within the sturdy basket. Yet, nestled in the crook of her other arm was an unexpected treasure—an enchanting discovery that had captured her young heart.
Amelia's voice bubbled with excitement as she approached, her words tumbling forth. "Dad! Look what I found! It's a small Teddy bear! Isn't it adorable?"
Curiosity sparked within me as I studied the small, weathered toy she presented. Its once vibrant colors had faded, its fur slightly disheveled, but it bore an undeniable charm. A silent narrative unfolded before my eyes, envisioning the laughter and companionship this cherished possession once brought to another child.
A mixture of caution and wonder mingled in my voice as I questioned, "Where did you find it, sweetheart? It seems someone may have lost it."
Amelia's face radiated with innocence and genuine affection for her newfound friend. "I found it near a tree, Daddy. Maybe another family played here, and the Teddy bear got left behind. Can I keep it, please?"
My instinctual protective nature rose, a desire to shield her from the potential disappointments that accompany lost treasures. Yet, a tender understanding blossomed within me. This small act of generosity and acceptance would foster her sense of empathy and compassion.
Considering her wide-eyed enthusiasm, I yielded to the warmth in my heart. "Alright, Amelia," I relented with a gentle smile. "If it brings you joy and reminds you of this beautiful adventure, then you can keep it."
Amelia's jubilant squeal filled the air, punctuating the acceptance of her request. With an affectionate hug, she embraced her newfound companion, promising it a future filled with endless tea parties and imaginary adventures.
Afer I set the fire, with a satisfying crackle, the flames sprang to life, dancing and flickering in a mesmerizing rhythm. The golden tendrils reached towards the night sky, casting a warm glow upon our faces. The radiant heat embraced us, dispelling the chill of the evening air as we gathered around the enchanting inferno.
I meticulously arranged the equipment we had brought, positioning the sturdy metal grill over the roaring fire. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the tantalizing aroma of seasoned meat, sizzling and sputtering as it made contact with the heated grates. The tantalizing melody of crackling embers serenaded our senses, a symphony of anticipation and contentment.
My wife, her eyes sparkling with both determination and tenderness, deftly prepared the ingredients that would transform into a feast of flavors. The rhythmic symphony of chopping, the aromatic dance of herbs and spices, and the gentle sizzle of ingredients meeting the heated pan created a harmonious tableau of culinary artistry.
Amelia, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, took her place by my side, her small hands outstretched in eager anticipation. I showed her how to position the meat on the grill, carefully instructing her on the art of achieving the perfect sear. Her youthful enthusiasm ignited a sense of pride within me, as I witnessed her embracing the opportunity to contribute to our family's culinary adventure.
“We still need some firewood. I will get some until it gets darker. I will be right back!,” I told Emma and I delved deeper into the wilderness.
The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a symphony of nature enveloping me as I wandered amidst towering trees. My fingers brushed against dry leaves and moss-covered rocks, searching for the elusive twigs and branches necessary to further kindle our flames.
But my curiosity led me further ahead, my gaze alighting upon something beyond the ordinary. "What the hell," I murmured, my voice was like a whisper amidst the wilderness.
My my heart was quickening as I glimpsed the outline of a vehicle amidst the foliage. It stood solitary and still, like a relic from another time, its metal frame weathered by the passage of seasons.
I hesitated whether or not to go closer, my instincts prickling with unease.
"Perhaps just another camper," I told myself, though doubt lingered in my mind.
Then I changed my mind the hairs were raising on the back of my neck and walked away from the silent sentinel of metal and glass.
I retraced my steps through the labyrinth of trees, the distant echo of our footsteps mingling with the whispers of the forest. I was immediately relieved as the warmth of our camp awaited me and I was not sure if I should tell Emma that I had seen another RV deeper in the forest. I decided not to, it might ruin the warm athmosphere of our moments.
The crackling fire and the tantalizing aroma of the cooking meat wove an enchanting tapestry around us, casting a spell that encapsulated the essence of togetherness. As the minutes ticked by, we shared stories, laughter, and the warmth of familial love. The darkness around us seemed to fade away, replaced by the glow of our shared experiences and the promise of a memorable night.
In that moment, it was not just the flickering flames that illuminated our campsite, but the intangible bond we shared as a family. We were not merely three individuals gathered around a fire, but a tapestry of love, connection, and shared dreams. The crackling fire served as a beacon, illuminating the path towards a future filled with shared adventures, cherished memories, and an unbreakable bond that would withstand the tests of time.
As we reveled in the joyous harmony of food and company, the night sky glittered above, painting a breathtaking backdrop for our intimate gathering. The stars, like sparkling witnesses, bore witness to the magic that unfolded in that humble campsite.
In the symphony of crackling flames and joyful chatter, we savored the beauty of simplicity, finding solace and fulfillment in the warmth of our shared presence. It was in this tranquil moment, surrounded by the wilderness and enveloped in the embrace of our loved ones, that we realized the true essence of life's blessings—a serene respite from the world's chaos, and the unrivaled joy of being together, just the three of us.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering the world to the embrace of darkness, a palpable chill crept into the air, sending shivers down our spines. Wisps of mist curled and swirled around us, lending an ethereal quality to the night.
Feeling the temperature drop, I retrieved a thick, cozy blanket from the confines of our trusty RV. Its soft fabric, woven with memories of past adventures, held the promise of warmth and comfort. Gently draping the blanket over Emma and Amelia, I ensured their precious forms were shielded from the encroaching cold.
Amelia, her energy waning with each passing moment, fought against the drowsiness tugging at her eyelids. Her yawns, like tiny symphonies of weariness, punctuated the tranquility of the evening. Sensing her fatigue, I knelt down beside her, my voice filled with gentle concern.
"Sweetheart, it's getting late and you look tired," I whispered, my breath carrying warmth in the crisp night air. "Would you like to go to bed?"
Amelia's eyes, still sparkling with the remnants of excitement, met mine. A yawn escaped her lips, a delicate melody of exhaustion. However, her spirit remained steadfast, determined to revel in every last moment of our outdoor escapade.
"No, Daddy," she replied, her voice a soft murmur. "I'm not sleepy yet. I want to stay here and enjoy the campfire."
Her response resonated with the boundless enthusiasm of youth, and I couldn't help but smile at her unwavering spirit. In that instant, I understood that this was a rare and precious opportunity—a chance to immerse ourselves in the magic of the night, to surrender to the allure of the crackling flames and the mysteries concealed within the darkness.
Then I thought of the camper van that I had just seen and for some reason, it made me feel uneasy. Trying to ignore it, I settled myself beside Amelia, the fire's radiant glow casting enchanting shadows upon our faces. Emma, her hand tenderly clasping mine, joined us, her presence a comforting reassurance amidst the whispering night.
As we sat there, the crackling fire casting an otherworldly glow upon our little circle, a symphony of silence enveloped us. The distant chirping of nocturnal creatures mingled with the soft crackling of the firewood, creating a harmonious lullaby that serenaded us into a state of tranquil contentment.
Stars, like celestial lanterns, punctured the ink-black canvas above, their shimmering brilliance a testament to the vastness of the universe and the infinite possibilities that lay beyond our mortal reach. The fragrant scent of pine mingled with the smoky essence of the campfire, intoxicating our senses and anchoring us to this moment of fleeting serenity.
Time seemed suspended, as if the world had paused to allow us this respite from the frenetic pace of life. We basked in the warmth of the fire, our souls nourished by the shared silence and the bond forged through the simple act of being present with one another.
But amidst the tranquil symphony of nature, a rustling in the nearby underbrush shattered the stillness. The sudden disruption reverberated through the air, jolting us from our serene reverie. Emma's eyes widened, her hand instinctively tightening its grip around mine. Amelia, her youthful curiosity piqued, looked to me for reassurance.
"What was that, Daddy?" Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
I cast a soothing smile in her direction, my attempt to allay any growing fears. "It's probably just an animal, sweetheart," I reassured her, my voice carrying a calm certainty. "Maybe a deer or a boar exploring the woods. Nothing to be worried about."
Yet, as the rustling persisted, growing louder and more distinct, even I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of my composure. The sound seemed to possess an undeniable weight, suggesting a presence larger and more formidable than initially anticipated.
Emma's eyes darted nervously between the surrounding trees, her senses attuned to the slightest movement. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension. "It sounds quite... substantial."
Instinctively, I rose to my feet, my protective instincts surging within me. "Stay here," I instructed, my voice firm but laden with an undercurrent of caution. "I'll go check it out. It's probably just passing through."
With cautious steps, I ventured toward the origin of the enigmatic rustling, my ears straining to decipher its source. I thought about the camper van. Was it possible that they could see our fire and wanted some company? That sounded ridiculous. Or could they have been in trouble? I should have checked that vehicle out.
Each crackle of twigs underfoot seemed to amplify in the stillness of the night, magnifying my senses. As I neared the treeline, anticipation mingled with a lingering sense of trepidation.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rustling ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The once vibrant symphony of nature now seemed muted, as if holding its breath in anticipation. I scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement, my heart thudding against my chest.
Slowly, I retraced my steps back to the warmth and safety of our campfire haven, my senses on high alert. Returning to my family, I wore a reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm despite the lingering mystery.
"It's alright," I assured them, my voice infused with a newfound conviction. "Whatever it was, it must have moved along. We're safe here."
Relief washed over their faces, their tense postures gradually easing. We settled back into our makeshift sanctuary, the familiarity of the crackling fire offering a comforting embrace. Our senses remained heightened, vigilant for any lingering signs of the unseen visitor.
Just as a semblance of calm began to settle over our campsite, an otherworldly roar pierced the night air, tearing through the fabric of serenity. The sound, far from the natural symphony we had grown accustomed to, possessed a menacing quality that resonated deep within our souls. Its metallic timbre reverberated through the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down our spines.
Amelia's eyes widened in terror, her small frame trembling with the weight of the unknown. Emma's expression mirrored the trepidation etched across our faces. This was no ordinary sound—a realization that hung heavy in the air.
"That... that doesn't sound like a deer or a boar," Emma stammered, her voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and dread. "What could it possibly be?"
Before we could ponder further, the deafening roar reverberated through the night once more, closer this time. Its proximity shattered any illusions of safety that had momentarily settled over us. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an electric sense of urgency. Our instincts kicked into overdrive, urging us to abandon our belongings and seek shelter.
"Leave everything!" I shouted, my voice laced with urgency. "We have to get to the RV now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, we sprang into action. Emma snatched Amelia's hand, her grip tight and resolute, while I scooped up our precious daughter into my arms.
“My bear,” she screamed and picked up her new toy, her tiny hands clung to the worn bear with an intensity that belied her tender age.
The campfire, once a symbol of warmth and tranquility, was abandoned in an instant as we sprinted toward the sanctuary of the RV.
The world around us blurred into a frenzy of motion as our legs carried us with desperate urgency. Fear propelled us forward, fueling our determination to reach safety. With each pounding heartbeat, the roar grew louder, its ominous resonance seemingly at our heels, a predator closing in on its prey.
Finally, we reached the welcoming embrace of the RV, its sturdy frame offering a semblance of refuge from the unknown terror that lurked beyond. I swiftly deposited Amelia onto the seat, her wide eyes reflecting the same mixture of fear and relief that mirrored our own.
As I fumbled with the keys, my hands trembling with a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety, I spared a glance back at the abandoned campsite. The darkness swallowed our belongings, the remnants of our interrupted evening left behind as a haunting reminder of the inexplicable menace that had disrupted our peaceful retreat.
With a trembling hand, I inserted the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life in harmony with the echoes of the unknown creature outside. The RV became our fortress, its metal walls shielding us from the terrors that lurked beyond.
As we peeled away from the once idyllic campsite, the wailing roar echoed in the distance. Our hearts raced in unison, our breaths coming in jagged gasps as we sought solace in the sanctuary of the rolling vehicle.
With a trembling hand gripping the steering wheel, I pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal, urging the RV to accelerate. The vehicle responded with a surge of power, propelling us forward with a newfound urgency. The engine roared in unison with the thundering beat of my heart, creating a symphony of adrenaline-fueled chaos.
As the wheels churned beneath us, the surrounding trees became a blur of green and brown, their branches reaching out like ghostly specters in our wake. The world outside the windows shifted in a dizzying dance, a kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses and fleeting shadows.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, casting elongated shadows that flickered and danced upon the passing foliage. Each passing plant and tree seemed to contort and twist in the ethereal glow, their distorted forms morphing into grotesque silhouettes of their former selves.
A heavy silence settled within the RV, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic whoosh of the rushing wind. Our breaths remained caught in our chests, suspended in a shared state of shock and disbelief. The weight of what we had witnessed hung in the air, a chilling reminder that the boundaries of our world were not as fixed as we had once believed.
The scene we had left behind in the forest haunted our thoughts—a glimpse into a realm far removed from our own, something demonic, something that defied explanation. The image of that otherworldly roar and the malevolent presence it implied lingered like a scar etched into our memories, forever imprinted upon our souls.
Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as we raced along the winding road, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Our collective relief remained just out of reach, overshadowed by the lingering unease that clung to us like a specter. The distance between the forest and the main road seemed interminable, every curve and bend in the road prolonging our escape.
Finally, the familiar sight of the main road materialized before us, a beacon of respite in the darkness. As the RV merged onto its paved embrace, a collective sigh of relief cascaded through the cabin. The weight that had burdened our shoulders began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of safety and security.
Yet, despite the relief that washed over us, the memory of the demonic encounter refused to dissipate as we were heading home. We knew that what we had witnessed in the depths of the forest would forever remain a haunting enigma, a testament to the boundless mysteries that lurk on the fringes of our understanding.
With weary bodies and restless minds, we arrived back at the familiar sanctuary of our home. The weight of the night's harrowing encounter clung to us like a heavy shroud, making the simple act of finding solace in sleep an arduous task. We all slept in the same bed that night. Tossing and turning beneath the covers, we battled against the remnants of fear that lingered within the recesses of our thoughts.
Morning finally broke through the darkness, casting its tentative rays of light upon our weary faces. The sun's gentle warmth filtered through the curtains, offering a glimmer of respite from the lingering shadows of the night. We emerged from our sleep-deprived haze, grateful for the sanctuary that our home provided.
Gathering around the breakfast table, our shared silence spoke volumes. We sought solace in the simple act of breaking bread together, a familiar routine that offered a semblance of normalcy amidst the lingering unease. No words were spoken of the night's horrors; instead, we focused on the mundane tasks of the morning, the clinking of cutlery and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee serving as a comforting backdrop to our collective attempt at healing.
As the day unfolded, we busied ourselves with the routine tasks, finding solace in the familiar rhythms. Dusting shelves, tending to neglected plants, and tidying up the remnants of the night's chaos became acts of therapy, a means of grounding ourselves in the reassuring normalcy of domesticity.
The weight of exhaustion settled upon our shoulders, and we allowed ourselves moments of respite as the day wore on. Sunday, a day of rest, offered a reprieve. We retreated to the cozy corners of our home, seeking solace in the embrace of soft couches and plush pillows.
As the hours slipped away, a quiet calm enveloped our home. The once-turbulent waves of fear and uncertainty settled into a gentle ebb and flow. Laughter and conversation, began to permeate the air, intermingling with the familiar sounds of a household in motion.
As the evening sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the living room window, we settled down in front of the TV, seeking solace in laughter and lightheartedness.
I reached for the remote control, ready to immerse ourselves in the comedic world of a streaming service, when something caught our attention. The TV screen flickered to life, displaying the urgent and captivating headlines of the news. A mixture of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension filled the room, prompting me to pause and leave the news channel playing.
The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, delivering the shocking report of a missing family. My wife leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the TV, her voice trembling with concern. Amelia, her eyes wide with curiosity, leaned closer to the TV, her Teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms as she was listening to the newsreader.
“This is a breaking news update on a harrowing incident that has shaken the community to its core. The Hudson family, who embarked on a seemingly routine hiking trip into the serene depths of the nearby forest several weeks ago, has tragically met a devastating fate. Today, authorities have confirmed the discovery and identification of their camper van and remains, a discovery that has left investigators, medical examiners, and locals alike in a state of shock and disbelief. The process of identifying the bodies was nothing short of a nightmare for the dedicated team of forensic experts. The unimaginable horror that unfolded in those woods rendered their task exceptionally challenging. Their bodies, torn apart by an unknown and unimaginable force, presented investigators with an enigma that defied explanation. Their positions were grotesquely twisted, their injuries inexplicable and mind-boggling. According to the investigators, an unknown force seriously damaged their RV as well. Medical examiners, renowned for their expertise, were left dumbfounded as they grappled with the mysterious circumstances surrounding this tragic event. The sheer brutality of their demise left them searching for answers that seemed to lie just beyond their reach. The bite marks, enormous in size and ferocity, left on the bodies only added to the perplexity of the situation. Astonishingly, DNA testing revealed that these bite marks belonged to an unidentified creature, sending shockwaves of fear and disbelief through the community. The repercussions of this shocking revelation have reverberated throughout the town, leaving residents on edge and gripped by a pervasive sense of fear and uncertainty. The once serene forest, a place of solace and tranquility, now holds untold horrors that have shattered the peace and shattered the lives of the Hudson family. Authorities advise everyone not to go into the forest until they find out what happened and what killed the family.”
As the newsreader went on we all stopped eating our popocorn.
“In light of these disturbing developments, it is my duty to advise against venturing into the forest at this time. The safety and security that once accompanied our tranquil natural surroundings have been shattered, replaced by an aura of uncertainty and fear. Folks, we cannot ignore the evidence before us, the evidence that points to an unknown and terrifying presence within those woods. I understand the allure of nature's embrace, the desire to explore, to seek solace, and to reconnect with the world around us. However, in this moment, I implore you to prioritize your safety and exercise caution. The risk is simply too great, and the consequences too dire to ignore. I urge you to remain vigilant, to report any suspicious activities or unusual occurrences to the authorities immediately. Your eyes and ears are our greatest assets in keeping our town safe. Together, we can overcome this darkness and restore a sense of security to our beloved community. In the coming days and weeks, we will keep you updated on the progress of our investigations,” the country sheriff said to the reporter.
“We will continue to bring you updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. Our hearts go out to the Hudson family and all those affected by this unimaginable tragedy. Please stay tuned for further updates as we strive to unravel the mysteries that lie hidden within the depths of our world,” the newsreader said and they showed some photos of the Hudson family.
The images on the screen showed their smiling faces, frozen in time. The thought that the camper van I saw in the forest was the crime scene of a brutal and unexplained murder not far from our camp, sent chills down on my spine. This was something I kept to myself. But we all thought about the same thing: the next ones could have been us.

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have shared a deep love for the great outdoors, particularly the enchanting allure of the forest. The allure of nature's symphony, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the melodious songs of birds never failed to captivate our senses. The verdant foliage, adorned with vibrant flowers, created a kaleidoscope of colors that danced before our eyes, while the towering trees whispered ancient secrets to those who would listen. It was a place where tranquility and serenity embraced us, soothing our souls in the embrace of nature's embrace.
Our excursions into the wilderness were often brief, day trips filled with laughter, exploration, and a shared appreciation for the natural wonders around us. But the recent addition of an RV to our family provided an opportunity to embark on a new adventure—an overnight camping trip nestled within the embrace of majestic mountains and the allure of the forest.
Excitement bubbled within us as we meticulously planned our journey. We imagined gathering around a crackling fire, its warm glow casting dancing shadows upon our faces. The scent of burning wood mingling with the crisp mountain air would create an intoxicating aroma that would forever be etched in our memories.
Finally, the day arrived, and we eagerly set off, our RV becoming our mobile sanctuary. The journey itself was a testament to the beauty of the land we traversed. Majestic peaks rose like sentinels, their snow-capped summits piercing the heavens. As we delved deeper into the heart of nature's domain, our anticipation heightened, and our hearts beat in sync with the rhythm of the forest.
Upon reaching our destination, we carefully parked our RV, a tiny fortress amidst the towering giants. The forest seemed to embrace us, its silence broken only by the distant chirping of birds bidding us welcome. The air carried a crispness that invigorated our spirits, as if it whispered tales of forgotten legends and ancient mysteries.
With each step we took, the forest welcomed us into its secret realm. Our senses were intoxicated by the sweet aroma of pine needles underfoot, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil. Sunlight, filtered through the canopy above, created dappled patterns on the forest floor, like nature's own mesmerizing tapestry.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the campsite, we gathered around the fire pit. Amelia, our adventurous and nature-loving daughter, was brimming with excitement at the prospect of building a fire.
Amelia's eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together, her voice filled with anticipation. "Dad, I can't wait to make the fire! Can I help? Please?"
A smile stretched across my face, mirroring the twinkle in her eyes. I nodded, appreciating her eagerness to participate in this age-old ritual of outdoor adventure.
"Absolutely, Amelia," I replied, my voice laced with fatherly pride. "You can gather some dry branches and twigs. Just be careful not to venture too far into the forest."
With an enthusiastic nod, Amelia seized a small, weathered basket and darted towards the beckoning trees and rustling underbrush.
"Watch out for the prickly bushes, sweetheart!" I called out, a touch of caution in my voice. "And remember, stay within sight!"
Her voice, tinged with determination, floated back to me on the gentle breeze. "Don't worry, Dad! I'll find the best branches!"
As Amelia vanished into the verdant embrace of the forest, my wife, Emma, emerged from our trusty RV. Her graceful movements belied her quiet excitement as she retrieved the carefully packed food provisions from within.
Emma's nimble fingers unwrapped the ingredients with a practiced ease, her eyes glimmering with a mix of culinary artistry and familial warmth. She hummed a gentle tune under her breath, her love for nurturing our family evident in every deliberate action.
Meanwhile, I busied myself by unloading the essential cooking equipment from the storage compartments. With the clinking of metal against metal, I extracted the gleaming grill grate and stoked the coals, preparing the stage for a delicious outdoor feast.
After a while, with a skip in her step and a glimmer of triumph in her eyes, Amelia emerged from the lush foliage, clutching a trove of dry branches and twigs within the sturdy basket. Yet, nestled in the crook of her other arm was an unexpected treasure—an enchanting discovery that had captured her young heart.
Amelia's voice bubbled with excitement as she approached, her words tumbling forth. "Dad! Look what I found! It's a small Teddy bear! Isn't it adorable?"
Curiosity sparked within me as I studied the small, weathered toy she presented. Its once vibrant colors had faded, its fur slightly disheveled, but it bore an undeniable charm. A silent narrative unfolded before my eyes, envisioning the laughter and companionship this cherished possession once brought to another child.
A mixture of caution and wonder mingled in my voice as I questioned, "Where did you find it, sweetheart? It seems someone may have lost it."
Amelia's face radiated with innocence and genuine affection for her newfound friend. "I found it near a tree, Daddy. Maybe another family played here, and the Teddy bear got left behind. Can I keep it, please?"
My instinctual protective nature rose, a desire to shield her from the potential disappointments that accompany lost treasures. Yet, a tender understanding blossomed within me. This small act of generosity and acceptance would foster her sense of empathy and compassion.
Considering her wide-eyed enthusiasm, I yielded to the warmth in my heart. "Alright, Amelia," I relented with a gentle smile. "If it brings you joy and reminds you of this beautiful adventure, then you can keep it."
Amelia's jubilant squeal filled the air, punctuating the acceptance of her request. With an affectionate hug, she embraced her newfound companion, promising it a future filled with endless tea parties and imaginary adventures.
Afer I set the fire, with a satisfying crackle, the flames sprang to life, dancing and flickering in a mesmerizing rhythm. The golden tendrils reached towards the night sky, casting a warm glow upon our faces. The radiant heat embraced us, dispelling the chill of the evening air as we gathered around the enchanting inferno.
I meticulously arranged the equipment we had brought, positioning the sturdy metal grill over the roaring fire. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the tantalizing aroma of seasoned meat, sizzling and sputtering as it made contact with the heated grates. The tantalizing melody of crackling embers serenaded our senses, a symphony of anticipation and contentment.
My wife, her eyes sparkling with both determination and tenderness, deftly prepared the ingredients that would transform into a feast of flavors. The rhythmic symphony of chopping, the aromatic dance of herbs and spices, and the gentle sizzle of ingredients meeting the heated pan created a harmonious tableau of culinary artistry.
Amelia, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, took her place by my side, her small hands outstretched in eager anticipation. I showed her how to position the meat on the grill, carefully instructing her on the art of achieving the perfect sear. Her youthful enthusiasm ignited a sense of pride within me, as I witnessed her embracing the opportunity to contribute to our family's culinary adventure.
“We still need some firewood. I will get some until it gets darker. I will be right back!,” I told Emma and I delved deeper into the wilderness.
The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a symphony of nature enveloping me as I wandered amidst towering trees. My fingers brushed against dry leaves and moss-covered rocks, searching for the elusive twigs and branches necessary to further kindle our flames.
But my curiosity led me further ahead, my gaze alighting upon something beyond the ordinary. "What the hell," I murmured, my voice was like a whisper amidst the wilderness.
My my heart was quickening as I glimpsed the outline of a vehicle amidst the foliage. It stood solitary and still, like a relic from another time, its metal frame weathered by the passage of seasons.
I hesitated whether or not to go closer, my instincts prickling with unease.
"Perhaps just another camper," I told myself, though doubt lingered in my mind.
Then I changed my mind the hairs were raising on the back of my neck and walked away from the silent sentinel of metal and glass.
I retraced my steps through the labyrinth of trees, the distant echo of our footsteps mingling with the whispers of the forest. I was immediately relieved as the warmth of our camp awaited me and I was not sure if I should tell Emma that I had seen another RV deeper in the forest. I decided not to, it might ruin the warm athmosphere of our moments.
The crackling fire and the tantalizing aroma of the cooking meat wove an enchanting tapestry around us, casting a spell that encapsulated the essence of togetherness. As the minutes ticked by, we shared stories, laughter, and the warmth of familial love. The darkness around us seemed to fade away, replaced by the glow of our shared experiences and the promise of a memorable night.
In that moment, it was not just the flickering flames that illuminated our campsite, but the intangible bond we shared as a family. We were not merely three individuals gathered around a fire, but a tapestry of love, connection, and shared dreams. The crackling fire served as a beacon, illuminating the path towards a future filled with shared adventures, cherished memories, and an unbreakable bond that would withstand the tests of time.
As we reveled in the joyous harmony of food and company, the night sky glittered above, painting a breathtaking backdrop for our intimate gathering. The stars, like sparkling witnesses, bore witness to the magic that unfolded in that humble campsite.
In the symphony of crackling flames and joyful chatter, we savored the beauty of simplicity, finding solace and fulfillment in the warmth of our shared presence. It was in this tranquil moment, surrounded by the wilderness and enveloped in the embrace of our loved ones, that we realized the true essence of life's blessings—a serene respite from the world's chaos, and the unrivaled joy of being together, just the three of us.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering the world to the embrace of darkness, a palpable chill crept into the air, sending shivers down our spines. Wisps of mist curled and swirled around us, lending an ethereal quality to the night.
Feeling the temperature drop, I retrieved a thick, cozy blanket from the confines of our trusty RV. Its soft fabric, woven with memories of past adventures, held the promise of warmth and comfort. Gently draping the blanket over Emma and Amelia, I ensured their precious forms were shielded from the encroaching cold.
Amelia, her energy waning with each passing moment, fought against the drowsiness tugging at her eyelids. Her yawns, like tiny symphonies of weariness, punctuated the tranquility of the evening. Sensing her fatigue, I knelt down beside her, my voice filled with gentle concern.
"Sweetheart, it's getting late and you look tired," I whispered, my breath carrying warmth in the crisp night air. "Would you like to go to bed?"
Amelia's eyes, still sparkling with the remnants of excitement, met mine. A yawn escaped her lips, a delicate melody of exhaustion. However, her spirit remained steadfast, determined to revel in every last moment of our outdoor escapade.
"No, Daddy," she replied, her voice a soft murmur. "I'm not sleepy yet. I want to stay here and enjoy the campfire."
Her response resonated with the boundless enthusiasm of youth, and I couldn't help but smile at her unwavering spirit. In that instant, I understood that this was a rare and precious opportunity—a chance to immerse ourselves in the magic of the night, to surrender to the allure of the crackling flames and the mysteries concealed within the darkness.
Then I thought of the camper van that I had just seen and for some reason, it made me feel uneasy. Trying to ignore it, I settled myself beside Amelia, the fire's radiant glow casting enchanting shadows upon our faces. Emma, her hand tenderly clasping mine, joined us, her presence a comforting reassurance amidst the whispering night.
As we sat there, the crackling fire casting an otherworldly glow upon our little circle, a symphony of silence enveloped us. The distant chirping of nocturnal creatures mingled with the soft crackling of the firewood, creating a harmonious lullaby that serenaded us into a state of tranquil contentment.
Stars, like celestial lanterns, punctured the ink-black canvas above, their shimmering brilliance a testament to the vastness of the universe and the infinite possibilities that lay beyond our mortal reach. The fragrant scent of pine mingled with the smoky essence of the campfire, intoxicating our senses and anchoring us to this moment of fleeting serenity.
Time seemed suspended, as if the world had paused to allow us this respite from the frenetic pace of life. We basked in the warmth of the fire, our souls nourished by the shared silence and the bond forged through the simple act of being present with one another.
But amidst the tranquil symphony of nature, a rustling in the nearby underbrush shattered the stillness. The sudden disruption reverberated through the air, jolting us from our serene reverie. Emma's eyes widened, her hand instinctively tightening its grip around mine. Amelia, her youthful curiosity piqued, looked to me for reassurance.
"What was that, Daddy?" Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
I cast a soothing smile in her direction, my attempt to allay any growing fears. "It's probably just an animal, sweetheart," I reassured her, my voice carrying a calm certainty. "Maybe a deer or a boar exploring the woods. Nothing to be worried about."
Yet, as the rustling persisted, growing louder and more distinct, even I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of my composure. The sound seemed to possess an undeniable weight, suggesting a presence larger and more formidable than initially anticipated.
Emma's eyes darted nervously between the surrounding trees, her senses attuned to the slightest movement. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension. "It sounds quite... substantial."
Instinctively, I rose to my feet, my protective instincts surging within me. "Stay here," I instructed, my voice firm but laden with an undercurrent of caution. "I'll go check it out. It's probably just passing through."
With cautious steps, I ventured toward the origin of the enigmatic rustling, my ears straining to decipher its source. I thought about the camper van. Was it possible that they could see our fire and wanted some company? That sounded ridiculous. Or could they have been in trouble? I should have checked that vehicle out.
Each crackle of twigs underfoot seemed to amplify in the stillness of the night, magnifying my senses. As I neared the treeline, anticipation mingled with a lingering sense of trepidation.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rustling ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The once vibrant symphony of nature now seemed muted, as if holding its breath in anticipation. I scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement, my heart thudding against my chest.
Slowly, I retraced my steps back to the warmth and safety of our campfire haven, my senses on high alert. Returning to my family, I wore a reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm despite the lingering mystery.
"It's alright," I assured them, my voice infused with a newfound conviction. "Whatever it was, it must have moved along. We're safe here."
Relief washed over their faces, their tense postures gradually easing. We settled back into our makeshift sanctuary, the familiarity of the crackling fire offering a comforting embrace. Our senses remained heightened, vigilant for any lingering signs of the unseen visitor.
Just as a semblance of calm began to settle over our campsite, an otherworldly roar pierced the night air, tearing through the fabric of serenity. The sound, far from the natural symphony we had grown accustomed to, possessed a menacing quality that resonated deep within our souls. Its metallic timbre reverberated through the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down our spines.
Amelia's eyes widened in terror, her small frame trembling with the weight of the unknown. Emma's expression mirrored the trepidation etched across our faces. This was no ordinary sound—a realization that hung heavy in the air.
"That... that doesn't sound like a deer or a boar," Emma stammered, her voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and dread. "What could it possibly be?"
Before we could ponder further, the deafening roar reverberated through the night once more, closer this time. Its proximity shattered any illusions of safety that had momentarily settled over us. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an electric sense of urgency. Our instincts kicked into overdrive, urging us to abandon our belongings and seek shelter.
"Leave everything!" I shouted, my voice laced with urgency. "We have to get to the RV now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, we sprang into action. Emma snatched Amelia's hand, her grip tight and resolute, while I scooped up our precious daughter into my arms.
“My bear,” she screamed and picked up her new toy, her tiny hands clung to the worn bear with an intensity that belied her tender age.
The campfire, once a symbol of warmth and tranquility, was abandoned in an instant as we sprinted toward the sanctuary of the RV.
The world around us blurred into a frenzy of motion as our legs carried us with desperate urgency. Fear propelled us forward, fueling our determination to reach safety. With each pounding heartbeat, the roar grew louder, its ominous resonance seemingly at our heels, a predator closing in on its prey.
Finally, we reached the welcoming embrace of the RV, its sturdy frame offering a semblance of refuge from the unknown terror that lurked beyond. I swiftly deposited Amelia onto the seat, her wide eyes reflecting the same mixture of fear and relief that mirrored our own.
As I fumbled with the keys, my hands trembling with a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety, I spared a glance back at the abandoned campsite. The darkness swallowed our belongings, the remnants of our interrupted evening left behind as a haunting reminder of the inexplicable menace that had disrupted our peaceful retreat.
With a trembling hand, I inserted the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life in harmony with the echoes of the unknown creature outside. The RV became our fortress, its metal walls shielding us from the terrors that lurked beyond.
As we peeled away from the once idyllic campsite, the wailing roar echoed in the distance. Our hearts raced in unison, our breaths coming in jagged gasps as we sought solace in the sanctuary of the rolling vehicle.
With a trembling hand gripping the steering wheel, I pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal, urging the RV to accelerate. The vehicle responded with a surge of power, propelling us forward with a newfound urgency. The engine roared in unison with the thundering beat of my heart, creating a symphony of adrenaline-fueled chaos.
As the wheels churned beneath us, the surrounding trees became a blur of green and brown, their branches reaching out like ghostly specters in our wake. The world outside the windows shifted in a dizzying dance, a kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses and fleeting shadows.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, casting elongated shadows that flickered and danced upon the passing foliage. Each passing plant and tree seemed to contort and twist in the ethereal glow, their distorted forms morphing into grotesque silhouettes of their former selves.
A heavy silence settled within the RV, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic whoosh of the rushing wind. Our breaths remained caught in our chests, suspended in a shared state of shock and disbelief. The weight of what we had witnessed hung in the air, a chilling reminder that the boundaries of our world were not as fixed as we had once believed.
The scene we had left behind in the forest haunted our thoughts—a glimpse into a realm far removed from our own, something demonic, something that defied explanation. The image of that otherworldly roar and the malevolent presence it implied lingered like a scar etched into our memories, forever imprinted upon our souls.
Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as we raced along the winding road, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Our collective relief remained just out of reach, overshadowed by the lingering unease that clung to us like a specter. The distance between the forest and the main road seemed interminable, every curve and bend in the road prolonging our escape.
Finally, the familiar sight of the main road materialized before us, a beacon of respite in the darkness. As the RV merged onto its paved embrace, a collective sigh of relief cascaded through the cabin. The weight that had burdened our shoulders began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of safety and security.
Yet, despite the relief that washed over us, the memory of the demonic encounter refused to dissipate as we were heading home. We knew that what we had witnessed in the depths of the forest would forever remain a haunting enigma, a testament to the boundless mysteries that lurk on the fringes of our understanding.
With weary bodies and restless minds, we arrived back at the familiar sanctuary of our home. The weight of the night's harrowing encounter clung to us like a heavy shroud, making the simple act of finding solace in sleep an arduous task. We all slept in the same bed that night. Tossing and turning beneath the covers, we battled against the remnants of fear that lingered within the recesses of our thoughts.
Morning finally broke through the darkness, casting its tentative rays of light upon our weary faces. The sun's gentle warmth filtered through the curtains, offering a glimmer of respite from the lingering shadows of the night. We emerged from our sleep-deprived haze, grateful for the sanctuary that our home provided.
Gathering around the breakfast table, our shared silence spoke volumes. We sought solace in the simple act of breaking bread together, a familiar routine that offered a semblance of normalcy amidst the lingering unease. No words were spoken of the night's horrors; instead, we focused on the mundane tasks of the morning, the clinking of cutlery and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee serving as a comforting backdrop to our collective attempt at healing.
As the day unfolded, we busied ourselves with the routine tasks, finding solace in the familiar rhythms. Dusting shelves, tending to neglected plants, and tidying up the remnants of the night's chaos became acts of therapy, a means of grounding ourselves in the reassuring normalcy of domesticity.
The weight of exhaustion settled upon our shoulders, and we allowed ourselves moments of respite as the day wore on. Sunday, a day of rest, offered a reprieve. We retreated to the cozy corners of our home, seeking solace in the embrace of soft couches and plush pillows.
As the hours slipped away, a quiet calm enveloped our home. The once-turbulent waves of fear and uncertainty settled into a gentle ebb and flow. Laughter and conversation, began to permeate the air, intermingling with the familiar sounds of a household in motion.
As the evening sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the living room window, we settled down in front of the TV, seeking solace in laughter and lightheartedness.
I reached for the remote control, ready to immerse ourselves in the comedic world of a streaming service, when something caught our attention. The TV screen flickered to life, displaying the urgent and captivating headlines of the news. A mixture of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension filled the room, prompting me to pause and leave the news channel playing.
The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, delivering the shocking report of a missing family. My wife leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the TV, her voice trembling with concern. Amelia, her eyes wide with curiosity, leaned closer to the TV, her Teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms as she was listening to the newsreader.
“This is a breaking news update on a harrowing incident that has shaken the community to its core. The Hudson family, who embarked on a seemingly routine hiking trip into the serene depths of the nearby forest several weeks ago, has tragically met a devastating fate. Today, authorities have confirmed the discovery and identification of their camper van and remains, a discovery that has left investigators, medical examiners, and locals alike in a state of shock and disbelief. The process of identifying the bodies was nothing short of a nightmare for the dedicated team of forensic experts. The unimaginable horror that unfolded in those woods rendered their task exceptionally challenging. Their bodies, torn apart by an unknown and unimaginable force, presented investigators with an enigma that defied explanation. Their positions were grotesquely twisted, their injuries inexplicable and mind-boggling. According to the investigators, an unknown force seriously damaged their RV as well. Medical examiners, renowned for their expertise, were left dumbfounded as they grappled with the mysterious circumstances surrounding this tragic event. The sheer brutality of their demise left them searching for answers that seemed to lie just beyond their reach. The bite marks, enormous in size and ferocity, left on the bodies only added to the perplexity of the situation. Astonishingly, DNA testing revealed that these bite marks belonged to an unidentified creature, sending shockwaves of fear and disbelief through the community. The repercussions of this shocking revelation have reverberated throughout the town, leaving residents on edge and gripped by a pervasive sense of fear and uncertainty. The once serene forest, a place of solace and tranquility, now holds untold horrors that have shattered the peace and shattered the lives of the Hudson family. Authorities advise everyone not to go into the forest until they find out what happened and what killed the family.”
As the newsreader went on we all stopped eating our popocorn.
“In light of these disturbing developments, it is my duty to advise against venturing into the forest at this time. The safety and security that once accompanied our tranquil natural surroundings have been shattered, replaced by an aura of uncertainty and fear. Folks, we cannot ignore the evidence before us, the evidence that points to an unknown and terrifying presence within those woods. I understand the allure of nature's embrace, the desire to explore, to seek solace, and to reconnect with the world around us. However, in this moment, I implore you to prioritize your safety and exercise caution. The risk is simply too great, and the consequences too dire to ignore. I urge you to remain vigilant, to report any suspicious activities or unusual occurrences to the authorities immediately. Your eyes and ears are our greatest assets in keeping our town safe. Together, we can overcome this darkness and restore a sense of security to our beloved community. In the coming days and weeks, we will keep you updated on the progress of our investigations,” the country sheriff said to the reporter.
“We will continue to bring you updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. Our hearts go out to the Hudson family and all those affected by this unimaginable tragedy. Please stay tuned for further updates as we strive to unravel the mysteries that lie hidden within the depths of our world,” the newsreader said and they showed some photos of the Hudson family.
The images on the screen showed their smiling faces, frozen in time. The thought that the camper van I saw in the forest was the crime scene of a brutal and unexplained murder not far from our camp, sent chills down on my spine. This was something I kept to myself. But we all thought about the same thing: the next ones could have been us.
More

Spin a yarn Spin a yarn Spin a yarn Unravel the spars
Swords up bristo spark opportunity Columbine cakewalk to licks stab unity Freedom fighter fancy the rapier integrity Corporate the clobbersnot broadsword veracity
No three rounder finish him bout When the cards on the table difficult to render clout We'll deal instead a dead turn to a steel bad beat Wish the river run long enough to ride the waves from ducks defeat
So begins the thrust, Chan flip table in the rut, Strategizing on the cusp unwieldy swing from Damaruk, gracious four arms slice the dust, freedom fighter pushes up, maximize the purest luck to bleat the heart the battle won the freedom straights now flushing done
Spin a yarn Spin a yarn Spin a yarn Unravel the stars
She spoke to me of emptiness A Pluto fissure happenstance That formed between our spatial weather Scalped light year happiness That drifted farther than Icarus A terra speck ubiquitous A blackhole bait of tenderness Now sucked to cease in consequence Spoke in past tense about ourselves The taped up paper cranes in flight Abandoned cosmos Ommadawn A song for lummox lovers tonight The fuel exhaust the fan ignite the Whirl of stars the twinkle bright the Moon a pile the Challenger smoke the Lavender scent our love unspoken
Spin a Yarn Spin a Yarn Spin a Yarn Unravel the bars
Google poly dacron rope Made the best for breaking throats Lasso king the nylon grope Three inches pull to strangle hope Nawajutsu pancake then Human punching bag begins Pummel passion add them kicks 808s and hihat hits This dim Charlie barking up the Wrongest Mollies on the block to Clubbing seals appealing half the Age of Grey's Anato-Math he Probly thought the thots were ripe But bites them down taste sour tripe With red and blue all up his eyes He ran til' running redefined to Hurling up the gallows steps Collar perfect lever ready Pull the floor from under him Watch the flailing struggled limbs Heaves and heaves till crackle pop Like rice so crisp his neck jets up Let's clap for scoundrels breaking bread And choking forthright everdread
Spin a Yarn (I'm burning daisies) Spin a yarn (On the plains) Spin a yarn (I'm tellin' Clothos) Spin a yarn (To spin again)
I stole the scissors (Spin a Yarn) The snipping wizard (Spin a yarn) 2-8 on offsuit (Spin a yarn) Still win on the river

I have been on L for 1 year. I am slowly tapering off from 200mg per day. I am currently at 75mg per day. I have inflammation at my joints that are swollen, red and tender to the touch, that I had never had before being on this. Also, my muscles are severely stiff, sore, and fatigued beyond normal. I am no longer able to work out because of this. My legs are in full exhaustion on what feels like a cellular level even going up one flight of stairs. My neck and shoulders are so tight that it is uncomfortable. Has anyone else experienced this? Thanks so much!

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.

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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.

I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LYME BUT IVE BEEN HAVING PROBLEMS WITH MY HEART SINCE LATE MARCH. FAST HEART RATE ESPECIALLY WHEN STANDING UP, FLEETING CHEST PAINS AND ITS WORSE WHEN I PRESS ON IT, SHORTNESSS OF BREATH EVEN WHEN IM DOING NOTHING, FEELING HOT AF FOR NO REASON OH YEAH AND MY LEFT ARM RIBS SOMETIMES BACK HURT TO AND MY BACK FEELS TENDER WHEN I PRESS ON IT. I WAKE UP WITH BEATING HEART AS WELL BUT NOW NOT SO MUCH.
NOW ON TO MY MORE RECENT SYMTPOMS: SO ABOUT 3 WEEKS AGO I WENT TO BED AND WOKE UP WITH MY WHOLE RIGHT SIDE BODY NUMB, FAST HEART RATE, SWEATING, DIZZINESS. THE NUMBNESS WENT AWAY FAIRLY QUICKLY BUT IM STILL LEFT WITH H THE DIZZINESS AND OFF BALANCE FEELING 3 WEEKS LATER AND ITS PROGRESSIVELY GETTING WORSE EXTREME FATIGUE AND I REALLY MEAN IT. I SLEEP LIKE 8+ HOURS AND FEEL LIKE I HAVENT SLEPT AT ALL. KEEP WAKING UP D URING THE NIGHT TOO. USED TO HAVE TREMORS IN HANDS BUT NOW ITS PRETTY MUCH GONE. I GET SLIGHT SPASMS IN MY LEGS THOUGH. I STILL GET FLEETING PAINS IN MY RIGHT FOREARM AND IT HURTS WHEN I PRESS ON IT. HORRIBLE BRAIN FOG TOO. I DONT KNOW HPW TO DESCRIBE IT BUT MY HEAD FEELS CLOUDY. I REMEMBER I USED TO GET IT AS A CHILD BUT NEVER THIS BAD. FORGETFULNESS, WEAKNESS ALL OVER BODY BUT MOSTLY LEGS, I CANT STAND FOR MORE THAN 5 MINUTES. IM PRETTY MUCH BED RIDDEN CAN ONLY USE THE BATHROOM. SHORTNESS OF BREATH SOMETIMES PRESSURE IN CH EST AND NECK. I GET THIS FEELING LIKE MY T HROAT IS CLOSING UP ALL THE TIME AND ITS DIFFICULT TO SWALLOW SOMETIMES SO SCARY. BODY FEELS SO WEAK NOW. IVE HAD EKG, CAT SCAN, BRAIN MRI, AND HEART ULTRASOUND. LOTS OF BLOOD WORK TOO NOTHING REALLY ABNORMAL BUT MY LIVER RESULTS ARE A BIT OFF. IM ON DOXYCYCLINE, HYDROXYZINE FOR ANXIETY, VITAMIN D3, AND SERTRALINE FOR DEPRESSION IG. PLEASE HELP ME I CANT TAKE THIS ANYMORE MY STOMACH IS SWEATING A LOT WHILE I WRITE THIS IM ONLY 18 I DONT WANT TO DIE

[First] [Previous]

...
I… I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I can’t do this.
...
Not without her.
[MEMORY TRANSCRIPTION UNSTABLE]
[RELEVANT STABLE MEMORY FOUND]
[PLAYBACK MEMORY TRANSCRIPTION? Y/N]
[Y]
[BEGINNING PLAYBACK]
Memory transcription subject: Jorlka, Venlil Youth
Date [Standardized human time]: DATA CORRUPTED
Blackness.
Sleeping in my bed, in my room, under a thick comforter that presses down gently on me. No school this paw so I can enjoy sleeping in without a care on Skalga. Nobody was home either. If I recall correctly, my father went out early to assist with setting up the storehouse for tomorrow’s harvest, and my mother went off with him for a trip to the market. For the first time in many paws, I was alone, and I could enjoy some peace. A rare luxury in my life, one I fully intend to take advantage of… Until I heard the sound of a metal hinge creaking open.
It was followed by a light breeze on my snout, as wind was now flowing through the opened window. I tried to ignore it; I didn’t want my luxury to be stolen from me because my bedroom window listed open from the morning breeze.
There was a songbird in the distance, probably out in our small orchid, and the whistles from it were clear. I tried to ignore it; I didn’t not want my luxury stolen from me because an animal was singing their morning rituals.
There was the sound of a light paw step on my creaky floorboard. A voice I most certainly knew then muttered a curse under her breath. I tried to ignore it; I did not want my luxury stolen from me because my best friend wanted to prank me.
Wait.
Something small hit my snout, landing into my slightly open mouth. This stole my luxury away.
“Freya, what are you doing?” I peeled my eyes open slowly to see standing figure of a young Venlil girl, ten cycles old, the same age as myself, standing at the side of my bed with a paper bag in her arm, and a small round black object between the digits on her paw. Her wool was as white as snow, and incredibly fluffy and springy in its texture, and her eyes were a striking blue. As rich and as deep as the cerulean sky during a festival.
“Come on, bite on it.” Her tail was moving behind her happily, large sweeping movements side to side at the base, and twirling in small circles at the tuft on the end.
I rolled my eyes at the request, still clueless to what was placed in my mouth. My senses were not yet fully operational due to my sleep addled state. I moved my tongue in my mouth to feel at the object. It was small, smooth, and cool, with a springy firmness to it. Very familiar to a part of my mind, yet it did not jump out at me. The true nature of the object illuding me despite my attempts to investigate it.
I looked at Freya once more as she watched me expectantly, before finally acquiescing to the odd situation. I rolled the object between my molars and applied pressure. The soft object gave under the force, revealing the soft mushy texture under the skin, and the incredibly vibrant juice underneath.
This flavour was reinvigorating, the delightful blend of sweet and sour assaulting my sense of taste, enveloping it. The sudden change shocked my system and was the kickstart I needed to fully wake up.
I woke up excited.
“No way!” I sat up right and jumped onto my paws. “I thought the shade berry harvest wasn’t for another two paws!” I looked down at the paper bag in my friend paws, before hesitating. Now that I was standing upright, it quickly became apparent that despite us being the same age, she had a good [60 centimeters] height over me. “Freya, please don’t tell me you-“
“I didn’t sneak into the harvest to pick them early, and I am offended you would think that of me!” She raised her paw up to her chest in mock, pretending to be hurt by the accusation that hadn’t even left my lips. “The tree in Fitalni’s backyard bloomed early, so she shared them!”
Fitalni was the elderly mother of the previous chief guard, Ridlaz. She was a sweet woman who me and Freya would frequently assist in her chores and errands. Her son was a great person who worked hard to keep Twilight Meadow safe, so that was the least we could do to say thanks.
“Well, alright then! Pass them here!” I reached for the paper bag in her grasp, to which she responded by lifting the bap up over her head.
“Nuh-uh! If you want them, you gotta earn them! You’ve been growing, so now’s a good chance to see if you can take me on!”
Oh, of course. She is using them as bait to spar with me.
The enthusiasm drained from me when the condition for the berries was revealed. “Freya, that’s not fair! We both know I’m just a-“
“NO.” She cut me off. “You’re not allowed to call yourself a runt. You’re a strong Venlil, you just haven’t come into it yet, and you never will if you keep knocking yourself down like that.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re the one that’s outgrown our entire class. You’re even bigger and stronger than Hiltz’s group! You’re the one that always protects me when they go after me, and you’re the one that’s great enough to be the next chief!”
Annoyance flared up in the back of my mind when I said that name. A pack of dishonourable bullies that make my life hell, always torturing me because of how small I am. I was too annoyed at the mention of Hiltz to notice that Freya bloomed lightly when I complimented her.
There was a ripple. Something changed. Static, in the back of my mind. My body felt fuzzy for the briefest of moments… And I saw a flash of grey wool.
A new voice. It was distant and muffled. Faded in the background, as if the person was far away. A voice I knew. A voice I loved. A voice that didn’t belong here…
[MEMORY UNSTABLE]
“-J̴̴̘̽o͖̰̐̕r̗l̳͟͡k̟̏ȃ̶̛͙̅ͭͫ-“
[TRANSCRIPTION FAILURE]
She could have left me behind at any time. I was small. Weak. Not worth the effort to protect, but she did it anyways. She was truly the best of us, and the type of Venlil that would have made an excellent chief guard.
[RELEVANT STABLE MEMORY FOUND]
[PLAYBACK MEMORY TRANSCRIPTION? Y/N]
[Y]
[BEGINNING PLAYBACK]
Memory transcription subject: Jorlka, Blighted Venlil Youth
Date [Standardized human time]: DATA CORRUPTED [Estimation: Two years after prior memory]
Pain shot across my snout as the impact knocked it in. My body crumpled down beneath me as I collapsed into the thin dry powdered snow that lightly coated the ground of the shadeberry orchard. I could feel my blood trickle out of the now damaged orifice, with my sense of smell becoming enveloped by it.
“Get up. I’m not done with you, you little shite.”
Hiltz.
Him and his two idiotic friends.
I caught them in the middle of pilfering the orchard, attempting to steal fruits before they could be harvested. The three of them are a dishonourable bunch, never caring for anyone other than themselves. They have a wanton history of being vandals, thieves, and nuisances, but always manage to avoid trouble.
The problem is that they’ve never been caught by someone with actual authority, and it’s been getting to their heads. They’ve been getting more brazen with their degenerate behaviour, leading to them trying to steal a large portion of the town’s food stock.
I blinked my eyes in pain, and pushed myself upright, fighting against my tired and shaking legs. My eyes glossed over the pair of Venlil, slowly loading more fruits into a wheelbarrow, distracted by watching me get my wool stuffed in.
“Th-Those are for the to- HHHHHUUU”
A sucker-punch to my stomach knocked the wind out of me again.
“Don’t look at them, look at me.” The dark brown venlil looked down at me with contempt as I keeled over in pain. “It’s not like you to be so brazen, Jorlka. Freya is not around to protect you.”
“I... I don’t need her to beat you.” I led out with a choked gasp as I took a step back from him, doing what I could to right myself as quickly as possible.
I then charged at him, keeping my sparing matches with Freya in mind. She’s taught me how to best approach a stronger Venlil than myself. The key is watching their legs, seeing how they shift their weight, and Hiltz doesn’t know this.
I feinted to his right, keeping my focus on his lower half. When he shifted his weight I ducked to his left, right when his arms fell to the right to intercept me. He didn’t correct quite fast enough and I was able to tackle into the left side of his torso.
I heard air get sucked into his mouth as he let out a gasp in pain, but it didn’t stun him like I had hoped. His arms found themselves on me as he got me into a hold, quickly getting me into a lock with his left arm around my neck.
“You little fuck, think you actually got one over on me!?” His fist jabbed into my stomach again, getting another gasp of pain out of me, spittle and blood coughed onto my attacker. “What the brahk does that girl even see in you? Tiny-” He punched me again. “-Weak-” His fist hit me again. “Pathetic, yet she lets you cling to her like you’re courting.”
Another voice joined the conversation over my coughs. One laced with a smouldering rage under the surface.
“I would certainly prefer to be courting someone that isn’t a dishonourable piece of shit.”
The phantomesque form of the strongest Venlil I knew had practically phased out of nowhere; Freya had appeared from between the orchard trees, the surrounding snowy landscape allowing her to approach undetected, her wool had blended in perfectly to allow her close without notice.
“Fuck!” His hold on me tightened as he quickly barked an order at his companions. “Deal with her!”
They broke off from the wheel barrel and took up positions facing Freya from opposite sides as she took up a defensive posture.
They most certainly tried to ‘deal with her’, but it was futile. Freya kept calm as the pair charged at the white Venlil. With one graceful movement she had dodged one, grabbing the wool on his side with her claws as he passed and tripped the other over with her tail. Then, she positioned herself just right under the one she had grabbed, and used his arm to leverage him into the air, throwing him over her shoulder and on top of the one that was prone on the ground.
Freya straightened herself and ran her paw over her crown, readjusting from of her fur that had gotten dishevelled from the movement. “Now, are you going to try me Hiltz, or are you going to be a spineless whelp like your father?” She looked him dead in the eyes and took a step forward. “Then again, you are sheared from the same wool as him.”
“Blighted whore!” Hiltz used his free paw to open a pouch on his belt and pulled out a knife, which he quickly spun in between the digits of his paw to press against my throat. “Fucking, say that rot about my father again, and see where it gets your little breeding stock toy here.”
This stopped Freya’s approach as panic became evident on her face. The concern that she showed for me provoked more emotion from within me that the blade threatening to kill me. Seeing my best friend distressed, and knowing it was because I am too weak to protect myself, filled my mind with a maelstrom of angst and loathing.
“N-Now, don’t do anything you’ll regre-”
“Forget about me, Freya!” The force of these words escaping my mouth sprayed out bloody spittle. I had refused to let this blight of a venlil win though the use of a hostage. “Just fucking go at him!”
“Shut up! Both of you! I’ll fucking kill the little shite if you take another step!” Hiltz barked out. “Now, you’re going to get the FUCK out of here Freya, and if you’re lucky, I’ll leave enough of him here for you to take back to his fam-”
Suddenly, Several things happened in rapid succession that my mind didn’t properly register until it was all over:
A new paw shot across my vision. A light grey, wool trimmed down clean, showing the toned muscle that ran the length of the arm underneath. It had grabbed at the wrist of Hiltz’s arm that had the blade to my throat and gave it a quick twist. The loud crack of the bone under getting twisted was audible in the close proximity of my ears, and the knife fell to the ground.
I was then pulled away from Hiltz by another grey paw as Hiltz shouted out expletives, shocked by the new pain shooting up his appendage. The tall grey Venlil underhand pushed me away as he got himself between me and Hiltz, and I fell to the ground several meters away, my body rolling to a stop in the snow.
Finally, I heard the loud sound of hardened skulls colliding, and a body collapsing onto the ground unconscious before I could right myself to see what had just happened.
“Jorlka!” Came from Freya as she ran to my side as I sat upright, desperate to figure out what had just happened. There, standing over the now knocked out body of Hiltz, was Glindet, the Chief Guard of Twilight Meadow, as well as two more guards who were jogging up behind him to witness the scene.
He righted his posture, giving the two of us a quick glance to ensure I wasn’t harmed.
“Thank you for the tip off, Freya. Because of you, Hiltz has been caught in the middle of an attempted murder.” His ears swivelled in appreciation for my friend. “I assure you, him and his friends will no longer be causing problems in this town again.”
We all knew what that meant. Banishment was going to await the three of them by the end of this paw.
Freya’s arms wrapped around my torso. “I don’t care about that; I just wanted this goober to be safe.”
[Time Advancement: 15 minutes]
We gently walked along the dirt path along the fields that led back to my house. Freya kept her arms on my body to support me as I was still walking with a limp. We were coming up on a large boulder I recognized, for it was one that marked where my families fields began. My house was not much further.
Rage coursed through my heart. Rage over my own weakness. Rage at how time and time again I had to be the one protected by her.
She is so much stronger than I am.
Wordlessly, I pushed away from her, wiggling out from her caring grasp.
“Jorlka, please, let me help.”
“No. I...” I looked at the boulder. “I...”
I shook my head and hardened my resolve. Fighting through the pain in my leg, I stepped onto the first hold I could find on the boulder and proceeded to climb it. It took a few pained and shaking steps, but I got up on top of it fairly quickly. With the rock under me as a platform, I was now taller than Freya by over a head.
“I’m going to get stronger.”
I looked back down at the pair of Venlil. The brilliant white wool along side the speckled grey wool. Both of them looking up at me with kindness in their identical striking blue eyes.
“I promise, I will get strong enough to protect you for a change!”
[MEMORY UNSTABLE]
"-I̡ͯ'̻̮͘l̂ľ͇͝ h̯͋ͥol̖d y_ͨou͊ tͪo̡̡ t͙́h͘a͉͔t̓͘.-̻͂"̐
[TRANSCRIPTION FAILURE]
Did she always love me? Was I always stuck in my own problems to the point that it made me blind to her?
[RELEVANT STABLE MEMORY FOUND]
[PLAYBACK MEMORY TRANSCRIPTION? Y/N]
[Y]
[BEGINNING PLAYBACK]
Memory transcription subject: Jorlka, Venlil, Member of the Twilight Meadow guard
Date [Standardized human time]: DATA CORRUPTED [Estimation: Eleven years after prior memory]
I paced back and forth, hidden from view behind the stage, wrecked with nerves over the coming announcement.
Glindet had reached the end of his fifteen-cycle term, and the town has a pool of viable Venlil that are capable of the role. He would be stepping down this paw and announcing the next chief guard. If the town hadn’t had a viable pool of candidates, the Crown Guard would have instead brought in an external Venlil to serve as acting Chief until a proper candidate could be found locally.
Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary. The town had two incredibly capable Venlil, and the two of them were together in this room.
I’ve been working closely under Glindet for several cycles now, acting as his Vice Chief. Ever since I had my final growth spurt before I came of age, I had become the strongest Venlil in the town. Glindet capitalized on this by immediately recruiting me into the guard upon my fifteenth birthday. Freya was a few weeks younger than me, but she also joined as soon as she could. We worked closely together as a pair for the first three cycles, before Glindet appointed me as his second-in-command.
He viewed me as a natural prodigy in the guard and worked tirelessly to get me trained as his successor. I did not have a single problem with this. I was enthusiastic to be working with the man that saved my life all those cycles ago.
Freya as back behind stage with me, one of the rare times we have been alone in quite some time. Since most of my time is dedicated to my job, I’ve not had the time to spend with my best friend. She obviously understood this, and always encouraged me to keep on improving. She knows as well as I do that Chief Guard had become my dream since that snowy paw in that shadeberry orchid.
Here we were, that dream about to become reality. I fully intend to name Freya as my Vice Chief as my first act up on the stage, which is why she was back here with me. She’s the only one that’s tuned into my methods, the only one that understands how I think. The only one I trust.
“Jorlka.”
My nerves are fried right now. I may have left a mark in the floor with the amount of pacing I have done in the few minutes since I began.
“Jorlka.”
Can I actually do this? Am I truly capable of handling such responsibility?
“JORLKA.”
Freya had stepped into my path with her arms outstretched, and I walked directly into the hug before I knew it was coming.
“-Hhh, Freya, please.” I shook my head and looked down at the Venlil woman who was now shorter than me. “We don’t want to risk this being viewed as fraternization. Not when we’re so close to the goal.”
She let out a sigh at this and slowly released me. “I know, but you’re clearly at ends right now. Just thought you needed some support.”
“I know, and thank you, but we both know that-“
“I know. We both know. To do this, you’re gonna need to be the hard ass boss for the next fifteen cycles. I won’t be able to be all chummy with you.” She looked down dejected. “I’m just gonna miss my big goober is all.”
I watched as sadness traced through her body language, my own heart feeling heavy at the sight of someone I cared so much for becoming gloomy on such a happy occasion. I felt compelled to immediately fix this. “… Thank you Freya. Truly, for helping me all this time. For being such a powerful, stoic rock in my life, keeping me on the path I needed to be on.”
We stared at each other in silence as I noticed that she had started to faintly bloom at my words. It was a bit out of character for me to speak with such sincerity, so it likely caught her off kilter.
“O-Of course…” She shook her head and let out a light cough to clear herself of the coyness. The air felt different. I could not place it, but it was as through an unknown tension that existed prior to now had been released.
“… Jorlka?”
“Yeah?”
“There is something else. I need to promise you something.”
“Promise me something? What do you mean?”
“… What I mean, is that when you’re done this job. When your term is over… I have something that I will want to say to you. It’s something I cannot say to you now, but I promise you I will. Even if it takes a thousand cycles, I promise I will say it.”
This felt extremely cryptic. Like she had handed me a puzzle box through the use of words alone.
“I don’t… Understand?”
“That’s fine, you’ve always been been a literal person, kinda crap at reading between the lines. Good thing you’ll have me to help!”
The two of us laughed at this, sharing one final moment of sincerity before I can no longer tolerate such an insult.
It became silent again. She broke it a final time.
“Come to me when it becomes too much. I’ll always be there to support you. Always.”
I didn’t have any time to respond to the offer as two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around me. Two Venlil named Freya, both with the same tender caring embrace.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the door to the stage opened, letting light into the room, and with it carried the sound of Glindet’s voice.
“And it is my honor to welcome Twilight Meadow’s next Chief Guard! JORLKA!”
[MEMORY UNSTABLE]
“Kͧ̀n̆͟ȏ͖̪c͉̄k̡̈́͒ t̍ͮhͩe͇̒̇m̼͠_ de͒ad̹,͔̮͟ B̈o̦ͦͤs̠̍̓sͤ.͈͘”
[TRANSCRIPTION FAILURE]
…
…
I breathe.

March 5 I had a sparring injury with my partner which ended up giving me headaches, also sharp pain back of neck looking down
Next week neurologist advises me to have a brain MRI which came out normal, diagnosed with post concussion syndrome
A few weeks later during a long exam with my neck mostly hunched over right eye/temple area suddenly starting aching and felt as if it was being squeezed, came home with pain in my right sternocleidomastoid area
Went to doctor who diagnosed me with sinusitis but I felt it was highly unlikely since I never really had sinus problems
During holy week suffered with severe anxiety and developed pain in jaw, teeth, sinus areas etc also difficulty swallowing
Went to the hospital for a new neurologist and felt like my whole neck was burning, he said how it was mostly anxiety but I should have an MRI of my cervical spine just in case
Next week I had it and it said straightening of the cervical spine maybe due to muscle spasm. Doctor prescribed me to take PT which I take 1-2x per week and trying to do the home exercises consistently. Don’t really notice any progress yet but thats because I havent done them consistently
Heres my full list of symptoms, or at least the ones I’ve experienced so far: - Headaches mostly dull and achy in nature, constantly moves around head and face. Very rarely pinching, burning, tingly, pressure sensations. Not super painful but distracting sometimes. Seems to dissipate/reduce in frequency when fixing posture. - Tenderness at base of skull - Trouble swallowing - Random neck pains and muscle spasms - Pain in thoracic spine area when looking down - Straightened cervical spine - Neck cracking and grinding when moving it - vertigo? Not sure tho - anxiety (nowhere as bad as a month ago though) - weird sound in ear when yawning or burping - nostrils get more congested than usual - hands went numb for a day, happened while I was writing stuff for school - occasional finger pain and twitching (could be related to overuse from gaming)

I (38F) apparently have an inguinal hernia containing fat and bowel with a neck size of 2.3cm. What does that mean? Is it considered large? I can’t feel it but I know it’s there because it’s pretty tender.
I’ve had 3/4 episodes of intense pain that goes through to my back which wears off when I lie down but I’m concerned that this is it being strangulated. It’s in a pretty dodgy area between my c-section scar and appendectomy scar so there’s probably a lot of scar tissue in that area.

Happy Mother’s Day

I recorded a 25 minute sermon from the notes below, but … somehow, there was no sound.
It was silent.
I replaced it with a shorter version.
Here is the text of the sermon I first recorded — Rough Notes.
Mother’s Day, not Mothers’ Day is an American tradition started by a daughter, Anna Marie Jarvis, who felt one day needed to be set aside for children to honor their own mothers.
Paul reminds us that we are part of a larger family as well and that the call to honor is even broader.

“[Treat] the elder women as mothers; the younger as sisters, with all purity.” -1 Timothy 5:2

Just who is your mother?
Timothy had his own mother and grandmother, but as a pastor, he was to set an example to all the church to treat all the elder women as mothers. They were to be respected, honored, and treated with care and affection.
Who is your mother? Who do you honor on Mother’s Day?
First, it would be the woman who gave you birth. While giving birth to a baby may not make you a mother in every sense, it is a pretty amazing contribution to life. She carried you for nine months, twenty four hours a day. Every bit of nutrition and all of your protection came from her.
She gave a big chunk of her life to give you all of your life.
Then, it is the woman or the women who raised you or helped to raise you — natural mothers, foster mothers, big sisters, aunts, babysitters, teachers, Sunday School teachers and, in some cases, your friends’ mothers or your neighbors. It may have been grandmothers.
We honor them today.
We honor the mothers we had.
We honor the mothers we wished we had as well, those perfect mothers that we dreamed about. We honor the ideal that no one ever realizes because everyone is human and imperfect.
That ideal is found only in God whose Fatherliness also includes the qualities of motherhood that can be reflected in our earthly mothers.
We honor the mothers (and fathers) we want to be. We honor the aspiration and the ideal and hold it high.
We honor the mothers of the future that we are training our girls to be.
We honor motherhood and all of the women of the church who have been, might have been, never were, or will be mothers — especially the older ones. The younger, we honor as sisters and mothers-to-be.

Happy Mother’s Day!

When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.” — John 19:26–27

Jesus was living through the darkest moment of His life. Lesser men would have thought only of their pain. One of the men being crucified with Him could only curse and fix blame on others. Jesus could only love for love had taken Him to that cross.
He looked down from Him place of suffering and saw His mother. He remembered how she had exercised faith in welcoming the Holy Spirit’s work in her life as she had conceived Him. He remembered how she had traveled so many miles with Joseph to Bethlehem for His birth and how they had fled to Egypt, far away from home and family, to protect His life from Herod. He remembered how she and Joseph had despaired when they misplaced Him in the Temple when He was a boy. He remembered her sacrificial love and the warm home she had made for Him and His brothers. He reflected on her grace and humble service. She had cherished the memories of His birth and life in her heart all these years. She had raised her children, taught them the things of God. She had buried a husband and she had left all to follow Her son, the Son of God as one of His disciples.
She was His mother and He loved her from the cross. And so, in one of His last earthly human deeds, He presided over an adoption,

“Behold your thy son … Behold thy mother.” — Jesus from the cross
“… despise not thy mother when she is old.” -Proverbs 23:22b

Your Mother When She Is Old

We need as many “old mothers” as we can get in the church and in our lives. We need to honor the older mothers among us and change our thinking about the word, “old.”
For some reason, we have attached a stigma to old age such that people do not like to be called, “old.” Yet, in the scriptures, it is a badge of honor and a sign of God’s blessing.
Perhaps some thought ought to be given to reviving the old custom of honoring the eldest mother in the church on Mother’s Day. In the New testament, older women were all considered mothers of the church. That had something to give and the church was tuned to receive it.
One can think of three reasons why we might learn from and honor the eldest among us and they spell O-L-D.

O — Older mothers have gotten OVER some things.

There is no substitute for experience. The most important and valuable advantage of experience is that it teaches us that wherever we are in our journey, we are stuck. We might be going through some difficulties, but we can and will get through them. We might be laboring under some burdens, but we can and will get over them. We can know this because our elders could and did get over theirs.

L — Older mothers have LEARNED some things.

Life has taught them some lessons and most are willing to share those lessons. We all know more today than we did yesterday. The longer we go, the more we potentially learn. We can honor our mothers by listening to their perspectives. They know some things we do not know because they have had time to learn them.

D — Older mothers have DONE some things.

They have had time to accomplish some goals, to have a few failures, and to enjoy some victories. When we look at their lives, we take courage in knowing that we can also accomplish some things. In fact, they sometimes did what seemed impossible, but with God’s help, they did them anyway. We need them as role models.
These are three reasons to honor our older mothers and to strive to someday be old mothers and old fathers.

“Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories.” ~John Wilmot

Any parent, worth his or her salt, will readily admit to ignorance on any number of subjects — especially parenting. It can be frightening when we consider the consequence for our children and the perpetual admonition to them to pay attention to us. We step back from overhearing them being told to do so and remember how many parental lessons we missed, ignored, or discarded along the way. How much easier would life have been if we had been mentally and emotionally present in the parental school of wisdom?
Homer doesn’t make things easier when he remarks, “It behooves a father to be blameless if he expects his child to be.”
Perfection eludes us and the quest for perfection haunts, us, but grace equips us to take the risks involved in doing our best and letting go of the rest. We are hard put to find all the right words or address all the important issues in parenting. Robert Fulghum landed squarely on the truth when he said:

“Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.”

Our children are always watching. It is up to them whether or not they will listen. That is their responsibility and capacity, especially as they grow old. It is also ours, who have grown older, not to forsake the wisdom of the past as no longer relevant. Solomon wisely said:

“Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching. They will be a garland to grace your head and a chain to adorn your neck. “ -Proverbs 1:8–9 NIV

He then enters into an extended teaching about the dangers or rejecting that teaching and pursuing a life of riotous activity without regard to ethics and morality. The bottom line is that you are more attractive, effective, and fulfilled if you take the time to learn what is being taught. And our children have a better shot at life if we take the time to teach them. Furthermore, we have a better chance of teaching them well if we revisit what we have been taught and take it to heart.
As a rock song from the 60s put it, “and the beat goes on.”

A Joyful Mother!

“He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the LORD.” — Psalm 113:9

On Mother’s Day, we are first grateful for our mothers, but deep within the heart of every mother for whom we show our love and appreciation is an even deeper gratitude. She is grateful to be a mother. She is blessed and joyful for what she considers to be the greatest gift and privilege of her life. Mothers cherish their children. So do fathers, but mothers do so with a special kind of flair. Your mother knows that you are a gift from God. Your life is something that emerged out of barrenness and you are very special. Your life has brought her joy. She sees the light of God’s love and grace in your eyes. She praises the Lord for you and you praise the Lord for her.
She taught you about love. She taught you life skills. She taught you to be responsible. She taught you the difference between right and wrong. She taught you that a person needs something to do and that there is no value in just sitting around and doing nothing. he taught you that there are consequences to bad behavior and rewards for good behavior. She taught you to love and reverence God and most likely taught you your first prayers.
She taught you so much and she taught it all to you because she loves you and because she knew that you were God’s gift to her. She did it with joy. Now take that same joy and show her your appreciation.
And today, we praise the Lord for her.
We love her because she first loved us. In fact, we most likely first learned the love of God from her and we love God because He took the initiative to love us fist. In that way, mothers point us to the Father.
We appreciate our mothers because they first appreciated us. We brought no special skills to our families when we arrived. We could not do our fair share or pull our weight, but our parents thanked God for us. That is amazing!
Our mothers valued us, affirmed us, and let us know that we were special. They prayed for us and taught us to pray. They managed our homes and let us watch and learn. They taught us how to perform basic skills, how to resolve conflict, and how to care for our own personal needs.
Best of all they were present for us and we are present for them today as well.

Mothers of the Church

“… the elder women as mothers; the younger as sisters, with all purity.”– I Timothy 5:2

Our brother Paul alludes to a tender and respectful relationship that Timothy and his brothers can easily understand. It is the relationship between a son and his mother or his sister. It is a relationship of affection and honor. It is the picture of the relationship that ought to exist in the church between the body and the precious women we call mother and sister.
On this Mother’s Day, let us pause to honor all of those who have been the mothers of the church whether or not they have biological children. They, whether right or wrong, have set our tables, cleaned our dishes, tended our babies in the nursery, and given us hugs and encouragement in times of sorrow, grief, or discouragement.
They have sent out the cards on special occasions, made the phone calls to the sick and absent. More often than not, they have taken the lead in matters of prayer and communication. They have kept us aware of our missionaries and have challenged us to be more mission minded.
They have taken far more seats in the choir than our men, been far more faithful in church attendance, and have brought pies and soups to the elderly and infirmed. And one might be reminded that the early disciples actually gave that job to six men.
It has been nineteen hundred years since men actually did as much as the mothers of the church for widows and orphans. These women have taught us in Sunday School and may have been the first to tell us about Jesus. They have organized our files, decorated our sanctuaries, arranged our flowers, cleaned our bathrooms, and made most of our visits. They deserve the title of mother and they deserve great honor this day.
Besides everything else, the mothers and sisters of our church have brought a sense of beauty and warmth into our presence. They have reflected the love of God into our lives in a unique way. Here’s to you, Mother. Here’s to you sister. We love you very much. Happy Mother’s Day!

God Is a Family

“At that day ye shall know that I am in my Father, and ye in me, and I in you. “-John 14:20

Family is a vital connection to what it means to be connected with God. God expresses the divine mystery of God’s very essence in terms of family.
The Father, the Son, and the Spirit exist as one, but three, all sharing the same nature, but also relating to each other in community and in love. God is in fellowship with God and God invites human beings to join the family.
Some of God’s qualities are mothering; some are fathering. Some of what the Spirit does in the world is what mothers do in families. The only point is this; it is not about gender or roles; it is about fellowship, love, relationship, bonding, loyalty, and joy.
God wants our company and God chooses human families to point us toward the reality of eternal and heavenly relationships.
Jesus says that his disciples are his mothers and brothers and sisters.
It is so appropriate to recognize and honor these earthly relationships on days such as Mother’s Day.
Mothers are responsible, in Judaism, for the perpetuation of the faith in the early stages of every child’s life. In fact, the primary definition of a Jew is a person with a Jewish mother.
Lois and Eunice, Timothy’s mother and grandmother, were cited by Paul as his earliest and most primary faith influences. The faith first dwelt in them and then, in him.
We are taught to regard the women in our congregations with the respect and love that we would afford our mothers and sisters.
The role of motherhood is profound in the scriptures. The writer of the last portion of Proverbs, King Lemuel, credits his mother with the wise teachings that have guided his life.
We thank God for our mothers today. Not only do they give us life and guidance, but they also help us understand the Holy Trinity as a family of God where we are invited to the table.

Calling Her Blessed

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed …” — Proverbs 31:28

King Lemuel had an amazing mom. She was like a super woman, great household manager, loving mother, loyal wife, sharp business person, and woman of righteous integrity. She was the ideal wife and mother.
To her children, she was Mom. MOM — Model for living, Organizer of our lives, and Magnifier of the truth.
She was all of those things. She provided a model for how to live. She brought order, organization, and direction to the household. She exemplified, magnified, and taught what it meant to live a godly life in this world.
Her children called her blessed.
Mary, when learning that she would become the mother of the Messiah proclaimed that all generations would call her blessed. In fact, the angel told her that she was blessed among women.
Mothers are a blessing to us, but the bible says that motherhood, in itself, is a blessing.
Today, we honor mothers for their motherhood. We rise with Lemuel and his siblings to call our mothers, “blessed” and to bless them for their gifts to us. It is trite but true to say that without them we would not be here and would not have become the people that we are today.

“God, give us Christian homes! Homes where the mother, in queenly quest, Strives to show others Thy way is best, Homes where the Lord is an honored guest. God, give us Christian homes; God, give us Christian homes!” - B.B. McKinney

God bless our mothers!

The Love of God

“The inhabitants of the villages ceased, they ceased in Israel, until that I Deborah arose, that I arose a mother in Israel.” — Judges 5"7

Deborah was no stereotypical mother. But a mother, she was.
She was a leader in Israel. She was a wife. She was as tough as nails and yet, sensitive to the things of God. Her prayer and song of praise tell her story and God’s story.
God raised her up for His purposes and used her mightily. She did what Barak would not do and received honor that he might have received.
She was a woman of courage, a woman of faith, a woman of praise, and a woman of wisdom — a lot like many of our mothers.
We need mothers with courage today because times are hard and the attacks on our families are profound. Sometimes, it is only the mother who will stand up for her families. Some fathers have defaulted in their responsibility. All fathers need her by their sides.
We need mothers of faith today because our children need to learn it. What better place to be introduced to faith than at a mother’s knee?
We need mothers of praise today who fill our homes with songs of praise, objects of praise, and occasions to praise the Lord. We need mothers who will turn off the televisions and radios and turn on the gospel.
We need mothers of wisdom today who will take the time to teach their children. Parents are the best wisdom teachers that God made. That is why we are told throughout the book of Proverbs to listen to them so carefully.
Buried in the sometimes dark stories of Judges is an example of a mother who can point us to some qualities of motherhood that we need to encourage in our young women today. Our pews are full today of exemplary models of motherhood. Let us honor them today.
Happy Mother’s Day!Happy Mother’s Day