So originally this was a question from a redditor, u/Madmax0622, about why Gepirone hasn't been on the market yet despite being approved in September, 2023 and doing some research into has led to a rabbit hole of murder, intrigue, and one very disappointed boy having his father arrested at his 7th birthday party. Okay, not really, but the story is interesting and there is some important points to make about how drugs become approved and how data is represented. So i thought I would mkae it a full post (and comments have a smaller character limit).

What the hell is Gepirone?

Gepirone (Exxua) is a novel azapirone drug that is thought to work as a partial agonist at the Serotonin-1a (5HT-1a) receptor. This is a fancy way of saying that Geprione is a drug that is structurally similar to other serotonin receptor agonists. In the United States we only have Buspirone (Buspar, approved 1986) as our 5HT-1a agonist but internationally there are several others such as Perospirone (Lullan, Japan), Tandospirone (Sediel, Japan), and Binospirone (China). All in all, these drugs share very similar structures and only really differ in their pharmacokinetic properties such as half life, bioavailability, and first pass metabolism.
Where Gepirone differs from these other 5HT-1a agonists is that it is a partial agonist which means that when administered into the body, it creates a partial response to the receptor rather than a full response. While Gepirone is novel because it is the first drug who's primary mechanism of action (MOA) is this partial agonism at 5HT-1a, it is not an unknown one. Several common medications also have this mechanism, such as some newer antidepressants (Trazodone, Vilazodone, Nefazaodone), old and new antipsychotics (Haloperidol, Olanzapine, Clozapine, Ziprasidone), and some other known anti-anxiety chemicals (cannabidiol, LSD, and gingko biloba).
So if Gepirone wasn't the first drug to work on 5HT-1a, why did it get delayed?

What did the data say?

Well I should say first that Gepirone did show benefit. In a double blind trial of two different doses of Gepirone in treating depression, patients received either a high dose, low dose, or placebo and were found to have lower depression scores (HAM-D) at the end of 6 weeks. Based on these results (among other trials, it takes years and millions to submit a drug for approval--im paraphrasing here), Gepirone's pharma company Organanon submitted their data to the FDA. Their package of data contained one positive phase 3 trial--a randomized trial of over 200 participants with drepssion who either received Gepirone and had a reduction in depression score of 9.05 points (17% reduction in depression score) vs those who received placebo and had a 6.75 reduction in depression score (13% reduction) after 8 weeks of treatment.

• Their big bad trial of only ~200 people is not really robust so the FDA rejected their 2001 application and told Organanon in 2002 that they needed two large trials with positive results. Okay....Organanon submitted the two trials in 2003 and even added in data on relapsing depression when Gepirone was stopped vs continued. What they found was that people who stuck with Gepirone ER (at this point they reformulated the drug to be extended release) had a relapse rate of 23% vs people who stopped the drug had a relapse rate of 35%. The FDA looked at this data and said, "yeah that's not positive enough" and walked out of the room.

Feeling dejected, Organanon was sitting on the marble steps outside the main FDA office when little Fabre-Kramer came walking by.

"Hey Organanon, did the FDA deny your reapplication?" Fabre-Kramer asked. "Yeah, they said my drug failed to show explicit benefit. That in the analysis of the main endpoints, submitting 25 studies and only have 2 be positive against placebo and the rest be negative or fail when challenge other established drugs doesn't show positive results." "Man that really sucks. How much did you spend on developing this drug?" "About $1.3 billion." "Well that's not too bad, you just got NuvaRing (2001, still makes up 22% of their revenue) approved and are making a killing off of it. Likewise you are still making boatloads off of Mirtazapine (1997)." "Well don't tell anyone but we are actually in a major scandal with Medicaid in Massachusetts and Texas where we were defrauding state government," Organanon lamented. "Yikes, that sucks," Fabre-Kramer said, "Hey, why don't I take Gepirone off yours hands. Afterall I originally got it from Bristol-Myers Squibb in 1993 before I sold it to you in 1998." "Aight, bet."

And so Gepirone was handed off to Fabre-Kramer in 2005 so Organanon could write off this whole venture to their shareholders.
Fabre-Kramer started by conducting an additional randomized trial of 238 adult participants who received Gepirone ER for 8 weeks. Results were....the same as before--people who received Gepirone showed a 10 point reduction while the placebo group showed an 8 point reduction. In 2007 this third trial was included and sent over to the FDA for approval (for the 3rd time) and the FDA looked at it and said, "yeah no thanks kid." They said that the positive results from the most recent phase 3 trials was good but the 23 other small trials that showed negative results was troubling.
Fabre-Kramer then pushed up their glasses and pulled up their suspenders a bit and said, "I'd like to appeal that decision" and in 2012 the decision was send to the FDA's Psychopharmacologic Drugs Advisory Committee (PDAC) in Dec 2015. In a 9-4 ruling, the committee voted that Fabre-Kramer smelled funny and they were dummy and that their drug was not good enough. They said they could resubmit another drug application again when they had more data.
Eventually Fabre-Kramer did submit another application in 2022 and Gepirone ER was approved by the FDA for the treatment of Depression in 2023.

If Gepirone was denied so many times, does that mean its a bad drug?

It would be easy to look at Gepirone's story and say that the drug is just not good enough and the pharma companies had to complete multiple trials (and thus generate more data) to prove its efficacy. Truthfully, its a mixed bag and I am going to try to shoot down the middle hear so you can make an informed decision on your own if you want to try Gepirone ER.
The Good

• Its always good to have additional drugs that focus on mechanisms that we know work. Remember that Gepirone works very similarly to Buspirone, as they both affect 5HT-1a, but importantly it has a longer half life. Unlike Buspirone, Gepirone is offered as an extended release form so instead of 3-4 doses a day you'd potentially only have 1 or 2.
• Now Gepirone is a partial agonist while Buspirone is a full agonist, which does have some important pharmacodynamic factors but based on the impact of other partial 5HT-1a agonists as discussed above, we can say that Gepirone is likely to work the way we want it. So you can attack the receptor that Olanzapine affects without all of Olanzapine's other effects.
• Likewise, the side effect profile is similar to or better than Buspirone. Again, this is most likely due to the improved half life or extended release.
• Gepirone also respresents another option for a non-traditional antidepressant that 1) does not cause weiight gain and 2) does not cause sexual dysfunction--two of the biggest reasons why people stop their depression treatment.

The Bad

• The data is very meh. Look at the differences in scores in these studies of reduction in depression score when given Gepirone vs Placebo: -9.04 vs -6.75; -10.2 vs -8.0; -9.0 vs -6.6; -10.1 vs -7.8. These differences are extremely close--a difference of 3 points (12.5%) in someone's depression? Would you take a drug knowing it would only lead to a potential 12.5% reduction in your depression after 8 weeks? Now its important to note that some people did have massive benefit, and im glad they did. But on average, 12.5%. Not great.
  • Now, don't get me wrong, Buspirone also doesn't have great data. In the trial that got Buspirone approved it showed that 7.5mg 3x daily of Buspirone had a HAM-D score reduction of 10.45 points vs the placebo of 7.92. So only a 10% reduction in depression score. But, then again Buspirone was primarily approved for anxiety, not depression like Gepirone, and Buspirone shows a 30-42% reduction in anxiety score at 8 weeks. Maybe Gepirone will show better results in Depression-Anxiety copresentation.

Alright, this is where my brain is wanting to stop for now. If I think of additional things to add I will throw them in. Cheers!

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

So yeah... this is a post where I review all 5 Cage The Elephant albums. Pretty simple. These are all reviews that I originally wrote on an app/website called "Musicboard" over the past couple weeks, but I've copy-pasted them here for your reading convenience. Hope you enjoy & I hope to to talk about these albums with you!
____________________________________________

Self Titled

Probably their weakest album to date, but still a pretty solid debut overall.
I hate to be so predictable, but the best song here is still “Ain’t No Rest for The Wicked”, and it ain’t even close. It’s extremely fun & catchy, it’s the album’s most sonically distinct piece BY FAR, and it’s storytelling/pacing are both absolutely flawless. A track that absolutely deserves it’s iconic status.
Even though the record’s best isn’t up for debate, there are some other pretty good highlights as well. “In One Ear” is a very solid opener for the project, “Judas” gives us consistently excellent lyricism, and “Tiny Little Robots” has an uncharacteristically super atmospheric bridge which makes it stand out quite a bit. It also transitions super smoothly into the following “Lotus” who’s engaging pacing, beautiful chorus, & satisfying climax make it another easy favourite for me.
But then beyond the lovably visceral energy of it’s closer, “Free Love”, Cage The Elephant’s self-titled debut really doesn’t give me a whole lot more to talk about. It’s got consistently great musicianship, a decent number of highlights, and some bizarrely excellent song transitions, but the album has a really bad case of being FAR too samey. Everything outside of the tracks I’ve already mentioned blend together in my mind almost completely. None of them are bad, but none of them are particularly memorable either.
This album is still pretty good at the end of the day, some solid garage rock fun, but Cage’s later projects would all feel a whole lot more distinct & purposeful.
Best Songs: Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked, Lotus, & Free Love.
Weakest Songs: Drones in the Valley, Soil to the Sun, & Back Stabbin' Betty.
This album gets a strong 7/10 from me.
____________________________________________

Thank You, Happy Birthday

It may be a little all over the place, but it’s still a pretty big improvement over their debut.
For one, the sound of this album is FAR more lush & vibrant than that of their debut. The guitars here are especially brimming with so much more life & colour than they were on their self-titled record. Another big improvement is that record is how much more variety this album has. It’s an incredibly stylistically varied project, and while that does lead to it feeling a little messy every so often, it’s all still held together very well by excellent & super aesthetically consistent production.
The album starts out quite strong with “Always Something”. The ominous guitars, raw vocals, & slight electronic elements all combine to make for a rather gripping opener. Other highlights include “Shake Me Down” which I love for it’s percussive acoustic guitars & personal childhood nostalgia, “Aberdeen” which I love for it’s super catchy melodies & powerfully mixed guitars, as well as “Right Before My Eyes” which has a similarly excellent sound & a surprisingly moving chorus.
This record also contains a lot of the most loudly abrasive material that Cage have ever released... to very mixed results. You have tracks like “Sell Yourself” & “Doctor Help Me” which are just sorta forgettable, a song like “Indy Kidz” which has a fantastic instrumental alongside an unfortunately & obnoxiously tryhard vocal performance, but then you have “Sabertooth Tiger” which is actually one of my TOP favourites here. The chaotic viscerality of this one feels so much more natural than those other tracks, as well as SO MUCH more invigorating. I really wasn't expecting to love it so much upon revisiting it today, but it very much surprised me.
On the other side of the coin, we also have a couple distinctly lowkey moments that I’d like to talk about. “Rubber Ball” is a very pleasant track with a slightly jaunty charm to it, but even more pleasant than that is “Flow”. My favourite song on the whole album. It’s not a particularly sad song, nor is it like STUNNINGLY beautiful, and yet… I often find myself close to tears when listening to it. If I had to put the feeling into words, I’d say that the atmosphere of this song is so perfectly tender & existentially content that it’s… genuinely overwhelming. I yearn to forever exist within the powerful sense of peace that this song provides, but I can only do so for 3 minutes at a time & that makes me wanna cry.
Overall, “Thank You Happy Birthday” is just a WAY more consistently enjoyable project than their debut. It has cleaner production, a far more memorable aesthetic, a greater sense of sonic exploration, better vocals for the most part, MUCH higher highs, and far fewer lows as well. Other than those “forgettably abrasive” songs which I talked about 2 paragraphs ago, the only significant lowlight for me would be the underwhelming closer that is “Carry Me In”. The record honestly should’ve just ended with “Flow” cuz these final 2 tracks which come right after just aren’t very interesting.
But yeah, other than having a significantly weaker closer, this album is an improvement over their first in every single way.
Best Songs: Flow, Sabertooth Tiger, & Aberdeen
Weakest Songs: Doctor Help Me, Carry Me In, & Sell Yourself.
This album gets a light to decent 8/10 from me.
____________________________________________

Melophobia

Don’t you love it when an overall “pretty good” discography randomly contains one genuine masterpiece?
I absolutely ADORE this record, and I don’t even consider Cage The Elephant to be one of my all time favourite bands. They probably wouldn’t make my Top 25, but “Melophobia” specifically is easily one of the best albums I’ve ever heard, and (now that I no longer listen to Arcade Fire) my personal favourite release of 2013. At the very least, it’s a stiff competition between this & Daft Punk’s “Random Access Memories”. I’ve gotta go track by track with this one in order to effectively convey my love for it so buckle in!
“Spiderhead” is a genuinely perfect opener for the record. It conveys to us ALL of the project’s best qualities while never feeling like it’s spoiled the album for you. The best is still very much yet to come. We’ve got scuzzy guitars that feel both authentically raw & immaculately produced, super catchy melodies delivered through a very precise yet slightly wild vocal performance, and also this really cool “glitched tempo change” at the end which gives this specific song a very unique flare.
“Come A Little Closer” is probably the most popular song here, and while it’s not my personal #1, it is still absolutely deserving of that status. The verses ease us in with a super slick bassline, some incredibly atmospheric guitars/synths, as well as a grippingly moody vocal performance. All of which come to a head on the track's spectacularly explosive choruses which still manage to fit the song’s moody tone flawlessly. The bridge here is also excellent with an extremely effective build to the song’s final & most explosive chorus. LOVE this track. Iconic shit.
“Telescope” is even more iconic though. It’s the best thing that Matt Schultz has ever written & it’s not even a contest honestly. We open with some tenderly playful synths which eventually give way to an equally playful yet distinctly melancholic vocal performance & lyrical story. This leads to the song’s incredible chorus which only becomes more emotionally powerful each & every time it’s repeated, but it’s the bridge here that really elevates the track into something truly spectacular. It’s so instrumentally frantic & vocally raw while still miraculously fitting into the song’s overall tenderly melancholic atmosphere. Such an evocative masterpiece. Unquestionably one of my favourite songs of all time.
“It’s Just Forever” is frequently maligned as the album’s one & only dud, but other than some admittedly awkward tonal whiplash between it & the last song, I still think it’s a fantastic addition to the record. We’ve got some wonderfully visceral guitars, a delightfully wild guest vocal performance courtesy of Alison Mosshart, and an outro that predicted the “Untitled Goose Game” OST six years in advance. What’s not to love?
“Take It Or Leave It” has a super chillaxed atmosphere all throughout, but never in a way that becomes boring. The chorus is super catchy, I enjoy the slight country-isms of the track, and the guitars sound amazing… but that’s definitely starting to become a moot point in this review. SUCH a vibe of a song.
“Halo” is probably the least uniquely remarkable song here. I don’t really have anything specific to say about it, but don’t think for a second that I mean to imply it’s even remotely weak. It’s still a banger.
“Black Widow” is an absolute BLAST of a song. The gritty rock’n’roll instrumentation along with those seductive vocals are obviously fantastic, but the star of the show here is undoubtedly the brass elements. The blaring horns on this track, whichever ones they are exactly, are sheer musical euphoria. That brief moment during the bridge where they completely overpower the rest of the mix is especially stunning. This is another one of those songs that I often hear people proclaiming as one of the album’s worst, but I think those people are weak. This song is nothing short of SPECTACULAR. Such a wonderful rush of visceral energy.
“Hypocrite” serves as a very nice change of pace for the record. The incredibly unique drum rhythms & overall slow pacing really make it stand out here. We’ve got a decently moving chorus, some nice brass elements yet again, and while said brass elements aren’t nearly as impressive as last time, these horns still fill out the mix very nicely & aid the song in having an even more unique energy than the aforementioned odd drumming was already giving it.
“Teeth” is the most perfectly unhinged thing that Cage The Elephant has ever released. In my review for their previous album, I talked about how certain tracks there often struggled to nail the balance of “controlled chaos”. Songs from that record which attempted this mostly just felt messy instead of compellingly scatterbrained. “Teeth”, on the other hand, achieves that balance effortlessly. Everything about this track is marvelous madness. The frantically abrasive guitars, evocatively strange lyrics, rivetingly unrefined vocals, and OH MY WORD that outro. After being a badass rock song for about 3 minutes, this shit randomly decides to basically become spoken word jazz at the end, and it works miraculously well. The lethargic bassline, the dour brass elements, the lyrics rich with meaning that’s hard to fully grasp. The whole thing is genuinely quite unnerving, but in a way that’s always still very enjoyable to listen to.
“Cigarette Daydreams” is a very interesting closer for this album. The acoustics & pianos are both incredibly pretty, the vocals & melodies are both really moving, and the whole experience is extremely immersive with it’s atmosphere. It’s a truly beautiful song on it’s own as well as an extremely anticlimactic ending for the record. But to explain why I actually mean that as a positive, I need to talk about “Teeth” again. Keep in mind that everything I’m about to say here has absolutely NOTHING to do with the lyrics of these songs. It’s simply my mind creating a story by interpreting the emotional atmospheres of both tracks.
“Teeth” is like witnessing or being involved in some sort of traumatic event. It’s a chaotic mess that leaves you deeply unsettled. Horrified even. Like being the bystander to a uniquely bad car crash. The kind where gorey death is very clearly visible. “Cigarette Daydreams” contrasts “Teeth” by being easily the most tender & simplistic song on the album. It’s very comforting with it’s musicality, but what I love here is that it’s not quite “cathartic”. It’s not a release of tension or an eradication of negative emotion. It’s like being frozen with shock after witnessing this crash before someone else eventually arrives to comfort you. This comfort feels nice & brings you back to your senses, but you’re still not ok. You still witnessed something horrible & a quick bit of comfort isn’t going to immediately fix that.
That’s the story I read from the tonal dichotomy between these 2 songs. A story of horror followed by incomplete comfort. It’s not a satisfying ending for me, but it’s such a specific & evocative kind of dissatisfaction that I can’t help but be fascinated by it. A super cathartic track full of positive emotion & grandiose beauty wouldn’t have worked here at all. Something quietly comforting that’s lacking in huge catharsis is the only way this could have gone. It’s the only ending that makes sense directly after a track as wild a “Teeth”. Again, NONE of this has anything to do with the lyrics. Just sheer emotion.
In conclusion though, I really fucking love “Melophobia”. It’s got perfect pacing, perfect production, tons of variety, so many excellent highlights, and one of the most memorable album endings I’ve ever experienced. The band’s whole discography is undoubtedly quite good, but this record is still LEAGUES above anything else that came before it, and so far, anything that has come after. Y’all better listen to it if you haven’t already.
Best Songs: Telescope, Black Widow, & Come A Little Closer.
Weakest Songs: haha no.
10/10. Masterpiece.
____________________________________________

Tell Me I'm Pretty

It’s a HUGE downgrade from the last album, but still a decent enough listen.
It’s a stiff competition between this & their self-titled when we’re deciding which Cage The Elephant album is the weakest. They both exist on pretty much equal levels of “unremarkably decent”, but I think I’d probably give “Tell Me I’m Pretty” an ever so slight edge over their debut. Even though I’m ultimately gonna give them the same rating, I think this record has a few more significantly notable qualities.
“Cry Baby” is a very solid opener & “Mess Around” is a delightfully nostalgic single in spite of literally just being a Black Keys song, but it’s only on tracks 4-7 where this album really hits it’s stride. “Too Late To Say Goodbye” is very methodically emotive, “Cold Cold Cold” has some super fun percussion & an engagingly dazed sense of atmosphere, and “How Are You True” is one of the prettiest songs in the band’s whole catalog. The choppy vocal effects are extremely immersive, and the lowkey energy of it all is wonderfully hypnotic.
It also transitions very naturally out of the song right before it. That song being “Trouble”. The strongest piece of this album by a pretty wide margin. The backing vocals are beautiful, the chorus is really impactful, the acoustic elements are particularly well utilized, and the whole thing truly feels “Melophobia quality” while still being sonically distinct from that project. After this 4-7 stretch however, the album’s final 3 tracks don’t give me a whole lot to talk about.
I enjoy the spaghetti western vibes of “That’s Right” decently enough, but “Punchin’s Bag” is one of the most forgettable songs that CTE have ever made, and even though it’s a decently fun track on it’s own, “Portuguese Knife Fight” has almost no real impact as a CLOSER. Which is particularly disappointing coming right off the heels of a record with one of the most impactful endings I’ve ever heard.
So yeah… “Tell Me I’m Pretty” definitely isn’t bad, but it definitely ain’t special either. It’s unenergetic in a way that mostly feels ill fitting of the band, Dan Auerbach’s production is solid but also extremely homogeneous, and lots of Matt’s vocals here feel way more “performative” than they do natural and/or “from the heart”. I do still enjoy this record for it’s excellent musicianship, generally solid song writing, and handful of wonderful highlights, but something definitely feels a little off about it all.
They just weren’t in peak form here. Which, again, is not a very pretty look right up against one of the most PEAK albums of the 2010’s.
Best Songs: Trouble, Cold Cold Cold, & How Are You True.
Weakest Songs: Punchin’ Bag, Sweetie Little Jean, & Portuguese Knife Fight.
This album gets a strong 7/10 to me.
____________________________________________

Social Cues

Not without it’s problems, but undoubtedly some of their strongest material to date.
This is pretty easily their 2nd best album if you ask me. It’s nowhere NEAR as good as 2013’s “Melophobia”, but it’s not like I ever expected them to reach those heights again. Cage The Elephant are an overall “pretty good” band with one exceptional masterpiece that came out of nowhere. But in terms of the rest of their “pretty good” discography, this is a very enjoyable album… even if it is VERY front loaded. Tracks 1-7 are all fantastic with only one exception, but then tracks 8-13 are all super forgettable outside of a couple key exceptions.
Let’s talk about that excellent first half though. “Broken Boy” is an immediately gripping BANGER of an opener with viscerally crisp production, The Title Track has a wonderfully psychedelic soundscape to it & one of the band’s catchiest choruses ever, and “Night Running” is a song that’s always gotten way too much hate in my opinion. I can KINDA understand the aversion to how sheerly radio friendly it is, but the vibes are again delightfully psychedelic, the Beck feature suits the track flawlessly, and there’s this extremely appealing sense of… idk “fuzziness” to the production on the chorus. Super sonically satisfying stuff.
Other great moments from this first half include “Ready to Let Go’ which was a perfect lead single for the record, as well as “Skin And Bones” which has a really moving chorus & some beautifully implemented strings, but easily the HARDEST banger of the whole project comes to us in the direct middle. “House of Glass”. This is one of the spectacularly wild things they’ve ever put out & it’s an absolute BLAST to listen to. The sly vocals, viciously vigorous guitars, and perfectly chaotic production all come together to create one of their best songs to date. LOVE IT.
Now for that relatively lackluster 2nd half. “The War Is Over” actually grew on me quite a bit this time around which I wasn’t expecting, but we still have songs like “Dance Dance” which feel distinctly lacking in creativity, “Tokyo Smoke” which frankly just feels kinda aimless to me, as well as “What I’m Becoming” which, in an attempt to sound soft & lowkey, just comes across as rather drab. These songs are all still “decent” at the end of the day, but they absolutely do not live up to the consistently high quality of that first half. Where this 2nd half DOES shine however are in it’s softer moment’s that aren’t “What I’m Becoming”.
“Love’s the Only Way” is SUCH a lovely track. The light guitars, the ethereal string sections, the tender vocal performance, the vividly “late night” atmosphere of it all! It’s easily one of the most beautiful glimpses into their softer side that the band have ever given us, but even more beautiful than that is the album’s closer & best song BY FAR, “Goodbye”. The lyrics are absolutely heartbreaking, the pianos are extremely moving in spite of being so very simple, and the bridge here is beyond fascinating to me.
There’s this part of it’s instrumental that’s either a muted piano or the pitched down plucks of an orchestral stringed instrument. Whatever the hell it is, it gives me chills damn near every time I hear it. There aren’t even lyrics during this part, but it still manages to be one of the most evocative depictions of sadness that I’ve ever borne witness to. Undeniable proof that sound alone can often speak SO MUCH louder than words. This has been my go to “depression song” for YEARS now & I don’t see that changing any time soon.
So that’s “Social Cues”! It’s definitely got some issues, but I still like it quite a bit. It’s got a really fun new sound for the band, a decent amount of variety, consistently excellent lyrics that are largely about Matt’s, at the time, recent divorce, and some of the highest highs in their entire discography. It’s undoubtedly frontloaded, but still a very satisfying album experience overall. I mean it’s kind of impossible NOT to be satisfied with a closer this stellar.
Best Songs: Goodbye, House of Glass, & Social Cues.
Weakest Songs: What I’m Becoming, Black Madonna, & Tokyo Smoke.
This album gets a decent 8/10 from me.
____________________________________________
Well that's the post! Hope you enjoyed reading it & I'd love to discuss any & all of my takes in the comments!

My version of episode 8
The episode starts with a flashback of yue.. she is a child who's playing with other children and finds an injured baby sea lion. She tries to heal it but it doesn't seem to get better. She takes the baby sea lion to the oasis and puts it in the scared water and tries to pray to ocean and moon spirit to heal her.. she hears the whispers "heal" and follows the instruction and uses healing ability to heal the sea lion and it helps.. her friends witness this and they tell their elders about this. Everyone realizes that yue is blessed with special healing abilities, and only she can heal something serious in the scared oasis hence she is hailed as the priestess of the northern water tribe.
We cut to the present and we see her walking with sokka in the hallways of the town hall talking about stuff like how she feels connection to every waterbender and how the full moon makes her feel more alive than ever.. she talks about mystical stuff such as spirits and spirit world and how some spirits are dangerous while some are essential for life. Sokka compliments her and tells her her blue eyes feels so bright and entrapping. As both come closer to each other surt falls on them.. sokka recognises the danger and says ' they will be here soon'.
We cut to katara secretly training in a cave with some young waterbenders.. they taught her some drills which strengthened her basics and she developed new techniques while she teaches them the moves she created on her own. Aang is there but he's busy amusing some of the children student and he's not a great waterbender himself. Katara shows concern to aang telling him he needs to learn and show some progress. Aang shows a worried look and agrees with her as they position themselves to began the training the snow falling outside the cave turns dark. Confused everyone steps out and sees the surt. while most of them are unaware, just like sokka katara recognises the incoming danger and takes aang back to agne quela. The chief gather everyone in the hall and tells them about the imminent war and asks for volunteers to enlist. Sokka stands up fast and moves forward to receive the mark of soldier while aang, katara and yue look with concern. Sokka tells them he needs to prove himself to be a real warrior and that will happen only when he tests himself in the battlefield. Aang and katara assures sokka he doesn't need to prove anything but he insists.
Scene cuts to fire nation navy ship scouting for any incoming danger in the fog and spots appa incoming, alerting the ship but it's no use as the trio of aang, sokka and katara easily defeat everyone and disable the ship and it's weapon, as they ride Appa out of it and reach the clear sky, they get the view or the entire fleet that's heading to the city.. they quickly retreat to the city and inform them, aang hopelessly falling on his knees and starts to profuesly apologise that he's sorry he's not prepared for this. The chief assures him his spirit along with ocean and moon spirit will ensure the victory of the tribe, no matter the cost.
Scene cuts to the ships of fire nation where Zhao discusses the attack plan with iroh. He tells him that the geographical challenges in invading the north pole are immense but they can be bypassed by using different ways of travel. Iroh looks with confusing so Zhao shows him the air balloon being prepared to which Iroh questions his motive. Zhao tells him in order to win this war he needs to disarm the water tribe, completely and it's entirely possible because there's only one entity in the world that carries the power of bending for all waterbender and it's the moon spirit. Iroh questions feasibility of this plan and how Zhao plans to find the spirit and kill and how killing it is possible. To which Zhao replies that he came across some scrolls that he found in the library that he found during his serving in desert and the guardian spirit went to spirit world so he scoured entire library looking for ways to weaken other nations but only found fire nation and water tribe weakness. He dismisses the fire nation weakness saying that it's important that information dies with him for the safety of fire nation but every full moon, the spirits dance in the reflections of sacred places. He reveals a dagger, which he retrieved from roku's temple that Roku has collected over his life. The dagger belonged to avatar kuruk and has special abilities to bypass any spiritual barrier and kill any spirit because it is made from the bone of a lion turtle. Kuruk crafted this weapon in order to fight the dark spirits and he needed a weapon that could kill any spirit without resistance. This worries Iroh and questions zhao's motives and the implications that would arise with the death of moon spirit. Zhao dismisses it but Iroh doesn't push his luck so he can join him and act when he needs to. The scene cuts to iron explaining zhao's plan to a masked soldier who unmasks himself to reveal an injured zuko who survived zhao's assassination attempt. Zuko feels alarmed by zhao's progress and informs Iroh that he'll leave the ships immediately and go to north pole as the ships get near. Iroh asks him his plan to which zuko gives vague answers, worrying Iroh.
Scene cuts to the wall of northern water tribe where there's dead silence and gust of winds blowing... The silence is unnerving but suddenly a fire ball appears through the fog and strikes the wall. The soldiers scatter with the attack but gather and try to contain the rain if fireball that is being sent by the catapults of the uncountable fire nation ships. Katara helps anyone she can and approaches pakku. She tells him that there's need for every pair of hands in order for them to defend their home, he can carry on with his traditions later but now it is not the time to be stubborn. Yagoda agrees with and tells her while a fireball heads their way, katara, yagoda and bunch of female waterbenders stop it from impacting and freezing it in towering ice. Pakku realises their potential and positions them at exposed point in order for them to stop further damage from the fireballs. Aang also tries to stop the damage but it's too much yet he helps other soldiers retreive. The chief tells yue that there are soldiers that need immediate attention in the sacred pond and tasks sokka to guard her while she heals the gravely injured. They head to the pond and heal many of the soldiers who walk out of the oasis, as they leave and sokka and yue are about to head out they notice an air balloon descending towards the oasis. They hide in the bushes nearby and observe who is there and what they are trying to achieve. As aang is helping outside at the front, kuruk appears to him and informs him about the dagger presence, it's properties and how it can end the life of most powerful spirits and pleads him to go the sacred oasis where the most powerful spirits reside during events like full moon. Zhao looks around in the oasis reciting the words he read in the scroll about spirits. He sees two koi fishes circling each other, slightly glowing. He recognises the eternal dance and decides to kill the spirit. Iroh warns him that the spirits are something that should not be trifled with and threatens him force if he proceeds with his actions. While Aang heads for the oasis through kuruk's temple, zuko confronts him and asks him to surrender and come with him. Katara asks Aang to go ahead and stop Zhao while she takes on zuko. They both fight with their best but with katara sharpening her skills and catching zuko by surprises, she easily overpowers him after several bouts. Aang also arrives and tells Zhao how spirits are important for everyone, even fire nation. The spiritual balance needs to be maintained in order for life on earth to survive, without it everything will fall apart. Zhao steps back from the pond but at everyone's surprise jumps in with the dagger and stabs the moon spirit, turning everything grey and moonlight vanishing from sky. Yue faints and aang feels striking pain in his head as he senses the loss of balance. Iroh strikes Zhao several times but Zhao manages to escape. Iroh runs behind him while looking at yue and telling her you have unique life in you. Aang gets flashbacks of air temple, kyoshi's harsh words and kuruk's word about how he should walk alone on this path and there needs to be certain sacrifice in order to achieve the results. During all this, aang hears some somber chants. Those chants were something knew but very familiar to him. He senses the chants coming from the pond. The chant is "Na Mo A Mi Tuo Fo Shin Di" which translates to "I bow to infinite light". It's a chant that is used by spirits when they are in danger or need of help towards the avatar spirit. As aang moves closer to the pond the chant intensifies. Yue expresses her despair and how everything is destroyed and it's over, simultaneously aang enters avatar state and with thousands voices says "no, it's not over". Aang walks into the pond and stands near the ocean spirit which circles aang, starting a ritual of combining their power. Aang dips into the ocean and emerges as koizilla. This prompts the water tribe citizens to bow to their diety immediately and koi zilla recognises the fire nation forces and starts to wipe them out of the city.
As Zhao runs through the streets of ange quela, he is confronted by zuko who duels him in order to avenge assassination attempt. Zuko eventually overpowers Zhao and questions why he did it to which Zhao reveals he knows about his blue spirit identity thanks to his sister. He goes further and tells him that his father and sister think of you as a failure and your father used you to push your sister to new heights and now she's more powerful than ever. Zuko walks away in shame and sadness after hearing this. Seeing the opportunity Zhao tries to take a cheap shot at him but is immediately torched by Iroh and drops into the water channel that has glow of ocean spirit. Aang in koizilla wrecks havoc on fire nation fleet amid their constant attacks through the catalputs but he overpowers them and sends a wave huge enough to ruin the fleet. Katara tries to speak to aang and talk him out of this destruction but aang's sense of worldly concern is gone and he intends to help the spirit until they are at peace and balance.
We cut to oasis and sokka talks about the possibility of bringing back the moon spirit to which yue has flashbacks to how she was so extraordinary, and she finally accepts the fact that she needs to repay the debt. She gives sokka a kiss and while sokka is not looking she freezes his feet in order to immobilize him. She walks into the oasis pond and picks up the dead koi fish, while sokka pleads her not to and using her healing power with her spirit's concentration and disappears into the strong light, which after few seconds goes away and the moon spirit has returned in form of the koi fish. Sokka watches yue disappear like that and cries in loss. The moon appears back into the sky and grabs aang and the koizilla's attention. Katara tells aang how important he is to her and how aang is still needed by everyone. She tells him that he might have lost a family but also gained one in form of her and sokka. This convinces aang to stop his rampage as the balance has been restored and he is retreated back to the shore by the ocean spirit into katara's arms. The sun rises and everyone begins to face the aftermath of war by removing the debris, helping the injured and securing the corpses of the fallen. Aang looks at the mayhem and destruction and blames himself from not stopping it. Katara tries to comfort him by telling him the bad actions of other people is not your fault, but he tells her it's his job to stop them and flies away on his glider. later, a funeral ceremony is held. The chief thanks the Martrys and the injured for their courage and sacrifice and how their valiant effort stopped the fire nation. He pays respect to yue for restoring balance and speaks how proud he is of her sacrifice. Pakku also announces that some traditions are outdated, and they need to change like water. He announced that women will no longer be prohibited from learning waterbending combat and everyone is free to learn what they want to. Chief ends the speech with saying there have been losses but we always move forward from these because it's our nature to adapt and overcome difficulties and losses. Aang realizes that loss of life is part of the cycle of life and he cannot prevent everything but he can always try. He remembers gyatso's words about letting go. Sokka and the chief share the conversation of how yue was so courageous and how they feel after her leaving them in this world . Pakku tells katara how she reminded him of their core values and she's a commendable warrior and a bender. After the ceremony ends aang tells katara and sokka how he feels he needs to move forward and be the avatar the world needs. Katara expresses happiness while sokka shows sarcasm and tells him he's hungry and offers them to join in for the food and katara taunts his need to eat everytime.
We cut to omashu being heavily damaged and fire nation soldiers walking in. We see a shot of bumi being captured and trapped into metal casings to prevent him from bending. A warrior with face masks walks up to him and removes it.. revealing it was azula who has invaded omashu.
Episode ends with the fire nation sages revealing to Ozai model have developed to predict sozin's comet and informs him that it's arriving soon.

Please just stop with the ridiculous "reaction face" thumbnails. Every time I see your exaggerated expressions of shock, awe, or fake disgust a part of soul dies and I just don’t want to watch your content.
Let’s talk about just how fucking stupid this is. First off, the faces. No human being reacts to anything in such a ridiculously exaggerated manner unless they’re trying to win an Oscar for "Most Over-the-Top Performance in a Thumbnail." Are we really supposed to believe that every piece of mundane content on YouTube is so shocking or mind-blowing that it elicits such a response? I’d love to see these creators react to actual life events. "Oh my god, cereal for breakfast?! 😱"
Then there’s the sheer dishonesty of it. These thumbnails are nothing but clickbait, designed to lure you in, only to deliver some mediocre boring-ass content. It’s the digital equivalent of a carnival barker hyping up a show that turns out to be a sad, broken-down donkey in a tutu. But unlike the carnival, where you learn your lesson and move on, YouTube’s algorithm keeps shoving more of this shit in your face like an overzealous waiter pushing “today’s special" that you didn’t ask for and don’t want.
And let's not forget the utter lack of originality. You scroll through your feed and it’s a parade of the same gaping mouths and wide eyes. It’s as if all these creators went to the same School of Overdone Thumbnails where they majored in "Looking Like You Just Saw a Ghost While Stepping on a Lego." It’s formulaic, lazy, and frankly, insulting to anyone seeking genuine content. Just because Mr. Beast or some other creator did it, doesn’t mean that it’s the secret shortcut to being a YT billionaire – BE ORIGINAL with your content! To YouTube creators who resort to this cheap bullshit, I say this: have some respect for your audience. Create content that stands on its own merit, that draws viewers in with quality and substance, not with the promise of an over-the-top reaction that you never intended to deliver. Your otherwise interesting content can be easily ruined by your silly-ass reaction face in a thumbnail.
While I’m on a tirade – stop fucking asking me to “like and subscribe” within the first few seconds of your videos! Seriously? I haven't even had the chance to decide if your content is worth my time, let alone my endorsement. It's like walking into a restaurant, sitting down, and before you’ve even glanced at the menu, the waiter is demanding you leave a five-star review. Fucking quit it!
It’s not just presumptuous—it's obnoxious. It reeks of desperation and a lack of confidence in the content. If what you’re presenting is truly valuable, engaging, or entertaining, viewers will naturally want to support you. You shouldn’t have to pander to them before they’ve even seen what you have to offer. It's like proposing marriage on the first date. Slow down, buddy. Let’s see if we even like each other first.
And let’s talk about the irritation factor. You click on a video hoping for a solution, some entertainment, or maybe to learn something new, and what’s the first thing you hear? "Hey guys, make sure to smash that like button and subscribe to my channel!" It’s like an unwelcome pop-up ad that you can't skip. It's an instant turn-off, a red flag that screams, "I care more about metrics than about providing value." What’s worse it reduces the act of liking or subscribing to a mindless, mechanical action, rather than a genuine show of appreciation. It undermines the whole purpose of these metrics, which is to signify that viewers found the content worthy and want more of it. But no, we’re trapped in this vicious cycle where creators, driven by algorithms and analytics, prioritize these metrics over the quality of their work.
Trust your content. Focus on making it good enough that viewers will want to stick around until the end, and then feel compelled to like and subscribe of their own volition. Asking for likes and subscriptions should be an afterthought at the end of your content – hell, even the middle if they’ve watched that far. Respect your audience’s time and intelligence. Earn their support with merit, not with your pathetic begging.
That is all.

Once again, my next post concerning the localized script of Cold Steel III. With this, I'll tackle the first part of Chapter 3. The points shown here are based on my sensibilities as to what lines cause issues for the dialogue, from being outright wrong to being awkward. My previous posts are listed below:

• Prologue: https://www.reddit.com/Falcom/s/iU44PytvbN
  
• Chapter 1: https://www.reddit.com/Falcom/s/cTjkFwRsAM
  
• Chapter 2 (1/2): https://www.reddit.com/Falcom/s/973QP55DqX
  
• Chapter 2 (2/2): https://www.reddit.com/Falcom/s/XrHBTWb0hr
  

Chapter 3

• 1:「I take it this means House Hyarms will be the only one of the Four Great Houses in attendance?」 / 「“四大”から当主が出席するのはそちらの家だけになりそうだな？」

The localization has Jusis word this an absolute. "当主" should refer to the actual head of the house. Jusis could've said: [I take it this means House Hyarms will be the only one of the Four Great Houses in with it's head attendance?]

• 2:「Every bit as tasty as the pancakes Tilly and I had earlier.」 / 「この前アーちゃんと食べたパンケーキに負けてないかなぁ。」

The phrasing choice of "earlier" in the localization makes this reference to a moment in Chapter 1, pretty much two months ago, strange. It feels like way too much like a direct translation of "この前," without the context. Millium could've said: [Every bit as tasty as the pancakes Tilly and I had (anything that'd make more sense) before/in Leeves/a couple months ago.]

• 3:「I figured Nidhoggr would be good, but the other guys are no slouches themselves.」 / 「“竜”も“連中”も悪くない。」

Random moment in the localization where refering to the jaeger corp in question as just "the dragons"/"竜" is omitted. There were no issues in any other instance. Shirley could've said: [I figured the dragons would be good, but the other guys are no slouches themselves.]

• 4:「The dragon lost its head, and as for the other group, well...」 / 「“竜”は頭が変わり、“彼ら”の方といえば──」

The original has it as "changed"/"変わり," not outright lost. Gareth could've said: [The dragon changed its head, and as for the other group, well...]

• 5:「We've got two of the strongest jaeger corps--the dragons and these jaegers in purple--battling it out...」 / 「──最強の猟兵団２つに“竜”たち、そして紫の一団……」

The localization phrases this in a different way than it should. It's denoted that "the dragons and these jaegers in purple" are emphasized as the "two strongest jager corps"; however, the original is listing the four in the scene. Sara could've said: [We've got two of the strongest jaeger corps--Zephyr and the Red Constelation--the dragons and these jaegers in purple, battling it out.]

• 6:「What's this big conference thing about?」 / 「『領邦会議』って何なの？」

The localization changes the clear question about the actual term she read about, just to make it sillier. Besides the fact that it even chooses to swap "council" for "conference." Juna could've said: [What's this Provincial Council thing about?]

• 7:「One time, some bandits captured me and held me in a stone prison...」 / 「とある小国では、山賊に捕まり一週間も岩牢へぶち込まれた事があったのお……」

The localization omits the time held captive, "one week"/"一週間." Old Man Rod could've said: [One time, some bandits captured me and held me in a stone prison for a whole week...]

• 8:「Speaking of which, was the Azure Knight ever retrieved?」 / 「そういえば《蒼の騎神》は軍に回収されたのよね？」

「I heard that they sealed it up so that the Noble Alliance wouldn't get their hands on it.」 / 「貴族勢力に使われないよう厳重に封印したって聞いたけど……」
Very weird way to phrase this line by the localization. Especially considering that it is also said "they sealed it" in the next line. The original already mentions the "military"/"軍." Celine could've said: [Speaking of which, was/wasn't the Azure Knight ever retrieved by the military?]

• 9:「Mastering this form is more difficult than any other. I do not know if you are even capable of such a feat, yet...」 / 「その極みは他の型よりも遠く、おぬしが“理”に至れるかは分からぬが……」

The localization lumps the meaning of reaching the "pinnacle" or "heights"/"極み" and "enlightenment"/"理" to be the same thing as "mastering"/"奥伝" the 7th form. That's simply wrong. Yun Ka-Fai's letter could've said: [Reaching the pinnacle of this form is more difficult than any other. I do not know if you are even capable of attaining "enlightenment", yet...]

• 10:「Not to mention, I can't imagine you'd need a third. Not at this point in your relationship, anyway♡.」 / 「それにせっかくの２人きりの機会……水を差すのは野暮というものですし♡」

The localization adds what I assume is meant to be a "threesome" joke. Sharon could've said: [Not to mention, I can't imagine you'd like me to intrude on your private time♡]

• 11:「My school and the cathedral are in the same district, in case you were wondering.」 / 「何しろ、女学院と大聖堂は同じサンクト地区にありますしね。」

The localization saw fit to omit the specifications of the district. Elise could've said: [My school/St. Astraia/the Girl's School and the cathedral are both in the Sankt District, in case you were wondering.]

• 12:「(Yes, I have. When I was accompanying the inspection team in Crossbell, I did some studying there.)」 / 「（ええ、ですがクロスベルの視察団に同行するのにあたって一通り勉強しましたから。）」

Actually, it's completely wrong. When questioned, by Rean, that she's never been to Armorica Village before, she's not supposed to have "studied in the village." Elise should've said: [Yes, I haven't. However, when I was accompanying the inspection team in Crossbell, I did some studying/read all *about it.]

• 13:「We have the Goddess of the Sky, but they worship something else.」 / 「彼らは空の女神と同じくらい大切にしているものがあるんだ。」

「What is it that the Nord people worship?」 / 「ノルドの民が、空の女神と同じくらい大切にしているものは？」
There isn't supposed to be a comparison that reads as if the Nord people worship "something else" instead of Aidios. Rean could've said: [They also have the Goddess of the Sky, but they worship something else equally.]

• 14:「He knows a lot about cooking, and he tells me all about the academy. Teehee, he's so helpful.」 / 「お料理も詳しいし、学院の事情なんかも教えてくださるの。ふふ、助かっているわ。」

「With such an amazing faculty member, Thors must really be an excellent school.」 / 「あんなに優秀な職員さんが いるなんて、トールズってやっぱり名門校なのねぇ。」
「Hahaha...(That doesn't quite seem like Celestin, but...)」 / 「ははは……（セレスタンさんはちょっと特別な気もするが……）」
The localization got this one completely wrong. How is describing Celestin as "knowledgeable about cooking" and "helpful" not like him? That response makes no sense. First, the second line should read more generalizing the compliments to the whole staff; Cattleya could've said: [With such an amazing faculty member/members Thors must really be an excellent school.] Second, the meaning is that "Celestin is a unique case among the faculty" (in regards to being so amazing.) Rean could've said: [Hahaha... (That doesn't quite seem like anyone but Celestin...)]

• 15:「Huh...? (Wait, is someone outside...?)」 / 「ふむ……（そういえば部屋の外に……）」

The localization also got this one wrong. The Japanese don't come across as completely unaware. The assumption of this scene is that to Wayne is standing outside the training hall. Rean could've said: [Huh...? (Wait, the one outside would be...)]

• 16:「She also said she apprenticed under a female martial artist and traveled around Erebonia...」 / 「外国人の女性武術家に弟子入りして、半年も帝国を放浪していたなんて話も聞きましたが……」

The localization omits the time spent traveling, "半年." Rean could've said: [She also said she apprenticed under a female martial artist and traveled around Erebonia for six months...]

• 17:「Yeah, thanks to this pendant Emma made me.」 / 「ああ……エマの魔力が込められこのペンダントの力を借りてだが。」

The localization simplifies the explanation. Rean could've said: [Yeah, thanks to this pendant Emma imbued with her magic.)

• 18:「A monster? Wait, that's a cryptid!」 / 「魔獣──いや、魔物のたぐいか！？」

「What a nightmarish beast that cryptid was...」 / 「はぁ、まさかあんな恐ろしい魔物がいるなんて……」
The localization mistranslated "fiend"/"魔物" for "cryptid"/"幻獣." Kurt could've said: [A monster? Wait that's some kind of fiend!] Musse could've said: [What a nightmarish beast that fiend was...]

• 19:「After paying a visit to Professor Schmidt, Rean walked George to the station, where his train back to Roer was waiting.」 / 「シュミット博士に一言挨拶を済ませた後、北東のルーレに向かうジョルジュを駅まで見送ることにしたのだった。」

The localization removes the direction of the city. The narration could've said: [After paying a visit to Professor Schmidt, Rean walked George to the station, where his train back to Roer, in the northeast, was waiting.]

• 20:「I considered making a last stand there, but news of the Northern War reached me.」 / 「１年は抵抗してやろうと思ったがそこへ《北方戦役》の話が降ってきた。」

The localization removes the remark about the duration of the last stand. Aurelia could've said: [I considered making a last stand there for a year, but news of the Northern War reached me.]

• 21:「You'll be just fine, Towa. Now let's get this show on the road!」 / 「フフ、ハーシェル先輩ならきっと大丈夫ですよ。一緒に頑張りましょう！」

The localization changes, addressing Towa by her surname. Munk could've said: [You'll be just fine, Herschel. Now let's get this show on the road!]

• 22:「Not to mention, as the student council president, you were highly regarded by many of your fellow students.」 / 「もとより、士官学院の生徒会長として貴族・平民を問わず多くの学院生たちから高い信頼を受け──」

The localization omits taking social classes into account. Munk could've said: [Not to mention, as the student council president, you were highly regarded by many of your fellow students--nobles and commoners alike.]

• 23:「Heehee. No elegant young maiden can resist the call of beautiful lace.」 / 「ふふっ、淑女の嗜みと言えばやはりマリアージュ・クロスははずせないでしょうね。」

The localization omits the mention of the brand. Musse could've said: [Heehee. No elegant young maiden can resist the call of Mariage Cross beautiful lace/Mariage Cross' beautiful lace.]

• 24:「Nothing draws a man's eye like a bit of lace...in just the right spot.」 / 「姫様から色々とプレゼントされたと聞きましたけど？」

The localization completely changes, from specifically teasing Elise to just be more of a general tease. Musse could've said: [I've heard that the princess has gifted you many such lace.]

• 25:「Although, I was shocked when she tried to pay for it with gunpowder.」 / 「手持ちがないからって報酬を弾薬で払おうとした時は驚いたけどね。」

The localization chooses to translate the general term for "ammunition"/"弾薬" to be specifically gunpowder. Marcus could've said: [Although, I was shocked when she tried to pay for it with ammunition/ammo/(maybe) *bullets".]

• 26:「How about assorted Eastern sweets?」 / 「なら……『羊羹の詰め合わせ』はどうだ？」

The localization randomly chooses to translate "yokan"/"羊羹" as just generic "eastern sweets", after having no problem doing it correctly in all other instances. Rean could've said: [How about some assorted yokan?]

• 27:「Well, we've basically just been making whatever we want at the Cooking Club.」 / 「ま、具体的には料理研究会と女子の有志でメニュー追加ですね。」

The localization phrases the arrangement weirdly. Juna could've said: [Well, we've (Elise, Musse and Juna) basically just decided on the menu together with the Cooking Club.]

• 28:「The elder? Is she the one Emma and Vita call their grandmother?」 / 「“長”──エマが“お祖母ちゃん”、クロチルダさんが“婆様”と呼ぶ人だよな？」

「I'm also worried about the 'true story' that Vita mentioned.」 / 「クロチルダさんが言っていた“真なる物語”というのもあったな。」
Again, it's made to use "Vita" instead of "Clotilde." I've already explained in previous posts how these changes can affect the dynamics of characters negatively. Rean could've said: [I'm also worried about the 'true story' that Clotilde mentioned.]

• 29:「From that day, Emma began training and studying as hard as she could with one goal...」 / 「『あやつの事は忘れよ』という“長”の言葉にも納得せず、その日からひたすらに修行と勉学に励んでいったわ。」

The localization removes what Roselia told Emma. Celine could've said: [From the day the Elder said 'forget all about heVita', Emma began training and studying as hard as she could with one goal...)

• 30:「That's the golden Spiegel the principal mentioned!」 / 「分校長が使っていた黄金のシュピーゲル……！」

The localization swaps "used" or "piloted"/"使っていた" for "mentioned." Rean could've said: [That's the golden Spiegel the principal used!]

• 31:「And so, Aurelia finished training the members of Class VIII...」 / 「──こうしてオーレリアはⅧ組メンバーにも（優しく）稽古を付け……」

The localization omits the joke. The narration could've said: [And so, Aurelia finished (gently) training the members of Class VIII...]

• 32:「Do they really need to have the conference during the Summer Festival...?」 / 「……夏至祭の時期……領邦会議もあるんですよね……」

The localization chose to phrase this as there's supposed to be reservation against these events being held at the same time. That wasn't particularly present originally. Tatiana could've said: [The Summer Festival is going to be held at the same time as Pronvicial Council...]; or: [I hear that the Provincial Council will be held together with the Summer Festival...]

• 33:「From what I heard, Olivier liked to play his lute under it.」 / 「ちなみに、その大橋の下で オリビエさんがリュートの弾き語りを披露したことがあるらしいんです。」

The localization puts this as if it's a 'known regular hobby'. Tita could've said: [From what I heard, Olivier played his lute under it *once.]

• 34:「It reminds me of the fleet. I feel like I'm home.」 / 「まるで船団に戻って来た みたいというか……これだけで里心がついちまうよ。」

「I hope our boss is doing well.」 / 「それにしても──女将さん、元気だといいんだが。」
The localization creates an awkward confusion for these lines. What would be expected is that "boss" would be the fleet's boss, but it's actually talking about the owner of the sailor bar, Miranda, by using "owner" or "landlady"/"女将さん." Leonora could've said: [I hope Miranda/the owner is doing well.]

• 35「Well, thanks to my mom's job, I know all about the nightlife in Raquel. Lemme know if you need any recommendations.」 / 「ま、お袋の職場だったのもあるし、夜のラクウェルなら任せろや。」

「I think it'll be an eye-opening experience for everyone, yeah?」 / 「坊ちゃんやらジャジャ馬にだっていい社会勉強になるんじゃねえか？」
「Though I might consider doing something after we're done with the field exercises.」 / 「せめて演習が終わった最終日なら引率込みで考えなくもないが。」
「Huh...? Well, aren't you a stingy one?」 / 「ハァ……？チッ、ケチくせえ野郎だな。」
The point of the line doesn't really come across that well in the localization. It sounds like the punchline to responding to Ash's proposal to allow Class VII to go out in the nightlife of Raquel is that "I'll consider doing that by myself." That couldn't be more wrong. Rena could've said: [Though I might consider chaperoning you guys after we're done with the field exercises.]

• 36:「The former Duke Cayenne is still under arrest and no replacement has been named.」 / 「現カイエン公は逮捕されたままで地方統括者は不在ですよね。」

Literally mistranslates "current"/"現." Altina could've said: [The current Duke Cayenne is still under arrest and no replacement has been named.]

• 37:「Hmph, you talk a lot for a doll. Must have a really long string in the back.」 / 「ハッ、よく喋る人形だぜ。」

Ash's line originally ends at the first clause.

• 38:「I hear there are some snipers who chose the Hector... but I suppose it all comes down to feeling.」 / 「正規軍の中にはヘクトルを選ぶ狙撃手もいるそうですが……まあ、要は相性ですね。」

The localization omits tthe fact that the snipers are from the army. Maya could've said: [I hear there are some snipers in the Imperial Army who chose the Hector... but I suppose it all comes down to feeling.]

• 39:「We need to focus on getting to Ordis.」 / 「この先はラクウェル方面──まずはオルディスの依頼に集中しよう。」

The localization removes the previous remark. Rean could've said: [This way leads to Raquel--We need to focus on getting to Ordis.]

• 40:「Damn. So that monster used to cozy up in there with fifty-thousand soldiers.」 / 「クク、あんな場所にあの化物が５万の兵と立て籠もったワケだ。」

The choice of "used" makes the sentence read as a characteristic beyond the single event the Japanese refers to. Ash could've said: [Damn. So that monster locked herself/cozied up in there with fifty-thousand soldiers.]

• 41:「During the war, the Imperial Army was at a loss after multiple failed attempts to infiltrate.」 / 「当時、帝国正規軍も攻めあぐねて頭を抱えたそうです。」

「It's fully equipped with multiple Panzer Soldats, large-class airships, and enough supplies and anti-aircraft cannons to last three years.」/ 「多数の機甲兵に大型飛行艇、３年は継戦できるだけの物資、対空砲も完備していましたから。」
In the context of "the Noble Alliance forces, after the civil war ended, barricaded themselves in Juno Naval Fortress," the localization wrongly chooses to put it as "during the war." Much the same, the second line is supposed to be talking about that single past event. Altina could've said: [It was equiped with multiple Panzer Soldats, large-class airships, and enough supplies amd anti-aircraft cannons to last three years.]

• 42:「(And thus a deal was struck that shifted the Northern War.)」 / 「（そんな事態を打開するために北方戦役の話が持ち上がった……）」

The localization translated this line very wrongly. The situation being "shifted" isn't the Northern War. Rean could've said: [To resolve that situation (Aurelia's barricade in Juno), the deal to set out for the Northern War was struck.]

• 44:「I don't see any Goliath Soldats. Do you?」 / 「ああ、そういや主力戦車だの噂の巨人機(ゴライアス)だのは見当たらねぇな？」

The localization omits the mention of the Main Battle Tanks. Ash could've said: [I don't see any Main Battle Tanks/MBTs/Achtzenhs or Goliath Soldats. Do you?]

• 46:「But over the past six months, we've seen some suspicious activity from both jaeger corps.」 / 「だがここ半年、帝国各地で不可解な動きをしていた各猟兵団が半月くらい前から鳴りを潜めていてな。」

「Activity that's led us to believe they're planning something for the Imperial Provincial Council in Lamare.」 / 「ール州で開かれる領邦会議に合わ・せるように。」
「Over the past six months, there haven't been any confirmed reports of jaeger corps activity within the Empire.」 / 「──ここ半月、帝国各地で 活動していた複数の猟兵団の動きが確認できなくなっている模様。」
By virtue of omitting information, the localization causes this line to have the wrong information. In the first line. Wallace could've said: [But over the past half a month/two weeks, we've not seen activity from the multiple jaeger corps which, until then, had been moving suspiciously in the Empire starting six months ago.] Consequentially, it's the lack of movement so close to the Provincial Council that makes them wary. The third line straight up mistranslated "half a month"/"半月." Wallace could've said: [Over the past half a month/two weeks, there haven't been any confirmed reports of jaeger corps activity within the Empire.]

• 47:「Ordis has been holding the Imperial Provincial Council since yesterday. Immediately after that's done is the Summer Festival.」 / 「オルディスは明日より領邦会議、そして《夏至祭》という状況です。」

The localization outright mistranslates "tomorrow"/"明日." The Provincial Army Soldier could've said: [Ordis will hold the Imperial Provincial Council starting tomorrow. Immediately after that's done is the Summer Festival.]

• 49:「Looking at this view, I can see why Ordis is so famous.」 / 「さすがは《紺碧の海都》と称えられるだけはある街だな。」

「The Port City, Ordis.」 / 「《紺碧の海都》オルディスへ。」
The localization refuses to establish a term for this other name that Rean and Musse call Ordis. Given some uses of the Japanese term, it could be "Saphirl Port City"; given the name of a food item in the city, perhaps "Aquamarine Port City"; even if not the same kanji, maybe "Azure Port City." As long as it's not entirely omitted from the game.

• 50:「Yeah, but once we're done sightseein', we've got a monster to kill.」 / 「そんで一通り回ったら南の浜辺で手配された魔獣をブチ倒すわけか。」

The localization omits mentioning the location of the monster. Ash could've said: [Yeah, but once we're done sightseein', we've got a monster to kill on the beach to the south/southern beach/beach south of the city.]

• 51:「I hope Luna isn't too bored.」 / 「はっはっは、ルナたちが退屈していなければいいのだが。」

The localization singles out Luna. Lord Quinn could've said: [I hope Luna and Eclair aren't too bored.]

• 52:「You're in luck. With the Summer Festival going on, the town is really buzzing with activity.」 / 「夏至祭も近いので商業区は賑わっているようです。」

The localization messes up the timeframe a little. The Provincial Army Soldier could've said: [You're in luck. With the Summer Festival happening soon, the town is really buzzing with activity.]

• 53:「My husband doesn't like things that come from the capital.」 / 「うちは旦那様が帝都資本嫌いなんです。」

Just like in Chapter 2, a maid is made to call her "master"/"lord" her husband by virtue of the fact that the Japanese term can be used for both. Pamela could've said: [My Master/Lord doesn't like things that come from the capital.]

• 54:「In addition to the taverns, there's an orbment store, and a glass workshop that is popular with the duke households.」 / 「宿酒場の他に、導力器なども扱う、公爵家御用達の硝子工房などもあります。」

It's not meant to be "households "in plural; the context here is that the glass workshop is used by the Cayenne estate. Musse could've said: [In addition to the taverns, there's an orbment store, and a glass workshop that is popular with the duke household/Cayenne/duke's estate*.]

• 55:「Guess what! My big brother is coming back tomorrow!」 /「あのね！ 今日兄ちゃんが帰ってくるんだ～っ！」

「My big brother is coming back tomorrow!」 / 「今日は兄ちゃんが帰ってくるんだよ！」
Straight up mistranslating "today"/"今日" in the localization. Luka could've said: [Guess what! My big brother is coming back today!]; And: [My big brother is coming back today!]

• 56:「Gramps is the ultimate craftsman. He even received the Golden Emblem.」 / 「じいちゃんは陛下から《黄綬勲章》を賜った最高の職人ですからね。」

The localization omits the line also havimg mention of the fact that the emperor is the award giver. Luther could've said: [Gramps is the ultimate craftsman. He even received the Golden Emblem from His Majesty himself.]

• 57:「Though, all I do nowadays is drink here!」 / 「ま、今はこの店くらいにしか卸しておらんがなぁ！」

「We get all our seafood from Rossel.」 / 「ちなみに魚介はそこのロッセルさんが卸してくれるんだ。」
The localization got this line wrong. It's not about drinking a lot, even the owner of the inn says the same, "卸して." Just as mentioned in the second line, by the tavern owner, Edmond. Old Man Rossel should've said: [Though, all I do nowadays is sell my catches here!]

• 57:「I need to make sure it doesn't compromise the beauty of this.」 / 「《輝き号》の魅力を損ねないよう、極力目立たないようにしたいけど……」

The localization chose to have the guy who's emamored with his new boat, and gave it it's own name, ultimately call it a "this." The Cheerful Man could've said: [I need to make sure it doesn't compromise Radiance's beauty.]

• 58:「I had to rid myself of some of the merchant ships my grandfather passed down to me! Aside from that little head start, I'm a self-made man!」 / 「祖父の代からの商船すらただ同然で手放すことになるなど……！」

The original isn't really about being or not being "self-made." Lord Beckford could've said: [I had to rid myself of some of the merchant ships my grandfather passed down to me as if they were worthless!]

• 59:「I mean, will all four of the Great Houses even participate? This truly is mindboggling.」 / 「そもそも四大の足並みすら揃うかどうか。……やれやれ、悩ませてくれる。」

The localization makes up the logic that the count would somehow still be in doubt of the participation of Great Houses with one day to go. Count Florald should've said: [I mean, will all four of the Great Houses' thoughts even be in alignment? This truly is mindboggling.]

• 60:「So this is a jade shell...It'd make for quite the accessory.」 / 「これがヒスイ貝か……確かに飾りに相応しいな。」

The whole point of the quest is to make "decorations"/"飾り" for the Summer Festival, and the localization decides it should be "accessory." Kurt should've said: [So this is a jade shell...It'd make for quite the decorarion.]

• 61:「We've lost enough men for one day.」 / 「ここで戦力を減らす意味など皆無だからな。」

The original doesn't make it sound like the Purple Jaegers already lost men against Rean and Class VII. The Purple Jaeger should've said: [There's no point in us losing our forces here today.]

• 62:「It's vital that we confirm if there are jaeger corps roaming the area.」 / 「この地で猟兵団が動いているのを実際に捉えたのは大きいだろう。」

The localization mistranslated this line and also makes it sound silly. None of the characters put any doubt that there are jaegers around or that the Purple Jaegers are jaegers; needing to confirm that just comes across as awkward. Patrick should've said: [It would have been great if we had actually captured those jaegers roaming the area.]

• 62:「This is a travesty! Does Marquis Ballad truly intend to reform the government like this?!」 / 「……信じられるか！？バラッド侯はまだ政府の改革案を受け入れるつもりらしいぞ。」

The original is about "accepting the government's reform plan"/"政府の改革案を受け入れる. Lord Beckford should've said: [This is a travesty! Does Marquis Ballad truly intend to accept the reforms of the government like this?!]

• 63:「We'll both be in town while the council is underway.」 / 「毎年領邦会議の時期は二人とも同じ街にいるんです。」

The original is about the lovers being in Ordis "every year"/"毎年" during the Provincial Council. Hearhcliff could've said: [We both come to town every year while the council is underway.]

• 64:「The next Duke Cayenne is about to be decided.」 / 「そろそろ現カイエン公にも判決が出される頃だよなぁ。」

The localizations not only mistranslate "current"/"現" but also "sentenced"/"判決が出される." Reins should've said: [The current Duke Cayenne is about to be sentenced.]

• 65:「Our hotel offers a taxi service.」 / 「当ホテルではラクウェルヘの送迎サービスも行っております。」

「You can enjoy the night life without worrying about the time.」 / 「鉄道のお時間を気にせず歓楽街を楽しむ事ができますよ。」
The first localized line gives the wrong idea. That would cause the second line to likely be interpreted as "Ordis' night life" when it's actually about in "Raquel"/"ラクウェル". Receptionis Harold should've said: [Our hotel offers a taxi service jto and from Raquel*.]

• 66:「Juna, see you later.」 / 「ユウナちゃんたち、お疲れ様ー。」

The localization singles out Juna, when it's her and Class VII. Louise could've said: [Juna and everyone/Everyone/Class VII, see you later.]

• 67:「Haha. Well, the three girls were so cute that I nearly--ahem, excuse me.」 / 「フフ、女の子たち３人が可愛すぎて思わず鼻血が──おっと、失敬。」

The localization leaves to the imagination, for better or for worse to some, that she got a "nosebleed"/"鼻血." Angelica could've said: [Haha. Well, the three girls were so cute that I got a nosebleed--ahem, excuse me.]

• 68:「There was a shooting near a school the other day...」 / 「この前なんて町のすぐ近くで撃ち合いがあって。」

The localization mistranslated "町" as "school," which doesn't have anything to do with it. Sister Olfa should've said: [There was a shooting near the city the other day...]

Today I'd like to answer this very interesting question: Can two victims of abuse be in a healthy relationship or form a health relationship?
Let's start with how we see relationships. When we have something in common with someone, like going through similar tough situations, we naturally feel connected. Think about two people who have both undergone abuse in their past relationships. They understand each other because they've been through the more or the same things. So when they talk, they really get each other because they share that problem. They’ve both been manipulated, mistreated, used by their partners.
So when you both have the same problem, you might think, "Hey, this person gets me." And if you're also attracted to them, you might believe they're someone who truly understands what you're going through. You might even see it as a chance for a relationship that helps you both heal and grow. But here's the big question: Is it actually a healthy relationship?
It's not a healthy relationship at first. This is because both people are still stuck in the past and haven't moved on. If they've truly healed, then it can be okay and healthy. But if they're still hurting from their past experiences, trying to be in a relationship won't make them happy. They need to learn to let go of their past and the pain it caused. Otherwise, they'll carry all that baggage into the new relationship. So it's like two people coming together with a lot of baggage from their past, instead of starting fresh. It’s more like a blind leading the blind.
Of course, all that baggage will weigh heavily on both of them. And while they may feel connected because of their shared experiences, it's those very experiences that can keep them stuck. When the foundation of your relationship is built on your past struggles, it's hard to let go of that story. Healing isn't about forgetting your past, but it's about not letting it define you. But when your relationship is based on that story, you might not be motivated to work on it because it feels familiar and comfortable, even if it's not healthy. If you let go of the baggage, you might feel like you're losing the relationship itself, because the relationship is built on that baggage. You might think that holding onto the baggage is better because at least you have someone to talk to who understands, rather than facing your own inner struggles. But holding onto that baggage might prevent both of you from truly growing and finding happiness.
At the end of the day, we often seek comfort and familiarity. Our minds are drawn to what feels safe and known. This is why two people who have shared problems might find themselves in a relationship together. You might argue, "But Edwin, I want to be in a relationship with them and then work on this together."
No, there's nothing like that. While you may commit to working on it together, people have different levels of growth. One person might not be motivated to work on themselves while the other is. So using the excuse of "we'll work on it together" might just be a way to avoid facing your own fears or your own inner emptiness. Healing is a journey that each person has to take individually; it's not something two people can do together.
It's your own personal journey. Even if you work on it together in the relationship, you're still the one who has to look inward and confront your struggles. A therapist can help by creating a space for you to process things, but ultimately, healing is mostly self-healing. No external force can heal you completely; it's something you have to do for yourself.
It's ultimately up to you to confront your inner demons. While outside forces can offer guidance, you're the one who has to do the work. Two victims of abuse might get stuck wanting the relationship to succeed, but stepping back and focusing on personal healing shows real commitment. Once you've worked on yourself, then you can consider a new relationship.
In the early stages, it might seem like the relationship is working because of the mutual understanding, but both partners are still wounded, and wounded people can't fully help each other heal. Sometimes an outside intervention is needed. While you may want a conscious relationship, it's not always easy to achieve when you’re still very unconscious. It's not a guaranteed solution, but it's not the best approach to focus on relationships if you don't understand yourself first.
Finally, if you believe that you need a relationship to heal, it's important to take a step back and recognize that your past relationships have already highlighted areas within yourself that need healing. Now, you just need the courage to face and heal those wounds instead of seeking distractions or temporary fixes like a ‘relationship with someone who understands you’
Note from the Author
If you’re ready and you’d like my help with healing, finding peace in life and breaking free from these toxic patterns, then you can book a FREE BREAKTHROUGH CALL with me HERE. Happy healing 💙💙. Feel free to share and comment! Use this information with caution, it comes from my own thoughts & bias, experiences and research😊.

Written by u/GoldWhale & u/JD397
Thanks everyone for your patience with us getting this written up. Much appreciation to my co-author u/JD397 for his work, scouting analysis, and comprehensive background knowledge on where Demidov sat compared to historical players, and the international analysis. Please note, this analysis won’t focus on why Demidov>Levshunov. In terms of BPA, Demidov is nearly unanimously over Levshunov based on consolidated rankings. With the Blackhawks publicly saying they want to go BPA, we hope to establish a case as to why Demidov truly stands above the rest, by a good margin. We hope that this was worth the wait, and we haven’t disappointed anyone who may have wanted more. We’re amateurs, give us a small break 😉
When Deputy Commissioner Bill Daly flipped the decisive card to reveal the number one overall pick, Blackhawks fans were disappointed. They were going to miss out on Macklin Celebrini, the consensus number one center and number one overall player in the draft. After winning Connor Bedard the prior year, many fans were hoping for a one two punch down the middle, their own version of McDavid and Draisaitl, Crosby and Malkin; this was not to be.
Despite the initial dismay, fans were still happy. The Blackhawks won the second lottery, and with that, the rights to select a franchise player at number two overall. Immediately, though, there was debate. Swirling on social media there were rumors that the Blackhawks were predominantly looking at two high end prospects: Ivan Demidov (RW/C) and Artyom Levshunov (D). On one hand Demidov is an elite prospect at wing with excellent hands, creativity, and legitimate top line wing with PPG+ upside. On the other, Levshunov is a dynamic offensive defenseman with a stellar shot, solid size, dynamic skating, and most importantly right-handedness.
The Blackhawks, realistically, need both positions. Last year the Blackhawks iced one of the worst offenses in the entire league, scoring the second least goals behind only San Jose. They also had the fourth worst defense, surrendering 290 goals on the season. Neither are acceptable in the push for a playoff spot in the coming years, but ultimately with number two, you can only choose one of the two players. After our hours of analysis, u/JD397 and I believe there is no debate – as good as Levshunov is, Demidov is closer in skill and projection to Celebrini than anyone else in the draft is to him.
So who is Ivan Demidov? He’s an 18 year old forward playing for SKA 1946, a MHL affiliate of SKA of the KHL. Since the 2023 draft the big story out of the KHL was the dominance of Matvei Michkov. This was a kid who destroyed the MHL by putting up 38 points in 22 games and going PPG+ in the playoffs his D-1 Year. Michkov then outperformed Connor Bedard by putting up 16 points in 7 games at the IIHF U18s in 2021. Michkov was, and still is, borderline generational but there was someone else waiting in his shadow. In his D-1 Year, Ivan Demidov put up 62 points in 41 games, and scored 1.3PPG in the MHL playoffs. While putting up a lower PPG pace than Michkov, Demidov’s game was substantially more well rounded and scouts started to take notice of another potential franchise winger in Ivan Demidov.
Demidov exploded in his D-0 Year, putting up a literal 2.0 PPG pace in the MHL the highest pace ever for a player 18 or under, and the third highest PPG in league history. In the playoffs, despite an injury, Demidov posted a ridiculous 28 points in 17 games. This production was unheard of beforehand and bested Kucherov’s 1.87 point pace at 18. Not only did Demidov have better production AND two way play, but he also did it nearly 7 months younger. Demidov remains a bright spot who is able to elevate his play to the competition. Before talking about playstyle, strengths, comps, projections, etc. it needs to be noted just how dominant Demidov was on the scoresheet.
Now that fans know who Ivan Demidov is, let’s address the elephant in the room. Demidov is Russian and with the political climate worldwide, being a Russian is associated with an inherent risk of a prospect not coming over. Rest assured – there is no such concern in this case. Last year, rumors swirled around Michkov not coming over due to three factors:

1. Michkov did not meet with more than two teams and actively told specific teams he would not play for them.
   
2. Michkov was incredibly difficult to get ahold of predraft and it made scouts and front offices skeptical on his character and desire to come to the NHL.
   
3. Michkov had 3 more years left on his contract with SKA.
   

Demidov, on the other hand, is actively engaging with teams. He’s hosting a workout in Florida before the draft for multiple teams to attend, and is actively having his agent coordinate interviews and meetings with interested front offices. Demidov has publicly declared his intention to come over to the NHL as soon as possible, even venturing so far as to say he’s looking at options for getting out of his KHL contract to get to the NHL for the 24-25 season. Finally, Demidov only has 1 year left on his contract so there isn’t long term concern about losing the ability to develop him internally. An interesting note that we found during analysis was that Demidov’s agent, Dan Milstein, is “hated” in the KHL because of how consistently he pushes for his clients to leave Russia and transition them to the NHL. Even if Demidov is stuck in Russia all of next year, there’s almost zero risk he doesn’t come over.
On Demidov, the other large question that looms is his lack of play in the KHL, and SKA’s decision to play him in the MHL. Despite being the one of the best players in MHL history, Demidov only saw action in 4 KHL games and scored a total of 0 points which has also turned off many scoresheet watchers. Let us reassure you – Demidov was predominantly the 13th forward and played an average of 3-5 minutes per game with unfamiliar linemates. He did not have a chance to play enough to succeed, and built no chemistry with the teammates he was playing with in his limited time. SKA is notorious for handling their prospects poorly. Young players are consistently given limited ice time, especially when they’re expected to leave Russia. Michkov, despite his skill, couldn’t crack the SKA roster in his D-0 or D+1 simply because of this bias. All said, this is not a concern scouts have when it comes to the potential drafting of Demidov.
With the Russia question answered, we believe there is no doubt that Ivan Demidov is the pick to make in the 2024 draft. Ivan Demidov is really really good. He is the complete package for what you look for in a franchise winger. Demidov has excellent hands, dynamic edgework, elite hockey IQ, high end compete and energy, a relentless forecheck, creativity in the offense he provides, solid two way play, and finally rapid speed in terms of release and puck control. There is no one like him in this draft who offers such an elite skillset with no obvious flaws in his game outside of his build. He can also play center when needed which gives him additional offensive flexibility and adds even more dynamism to his game.
While analytics don’t tell the full story, they can often be a useful baseline to build from. The first item we want to call attention to is Byron Bader’s model, which projects Demidov as the best #2OA prospect since Eichel.. Let's again be clear, we don’t put much merit into this due to the low gradings of Carlsson and Laine, but it’s important to contextualize how Bader’s model works. It compares prospects to the league they’re in and projects them out. Demidov dominated the MHL to such a degree that the model favorably views him due to being almost untouched in play, and setting multiple records. Continuing with Hockey Prospecting and Bader, who is an active NHL draft consultant, they project Demidov to be an absolute STUD based on production. No forward who they’ve ever given 99%s to has ever been less than PPG+. Demidov has a very comparable offensive game to Celebrini, and is all but guaranteed to be a star due to his production and skillset. Alanen also projects Demidov to be elite in all 3 zones, and gives him a total RARE grade of 100, due to his next level offense and transition, and above average defensive work despite his assignments. Again, analytics aren’t an end all be all by any means. They’re just an exceptional base to build from when scouts, data scientists and NHL draft consultants unanimously believe a player to be elite. From our research, no prospects with comparable profiles have busted or not succeeded in the NHL.
Whilst reading multiple articles, watching videos on Demidov, and going through tape, we compiled the following scouting report.
Physical Attributes:
Demidov is not very physically imposing, or even one of the most physical players in the draft. He’s expected to show up to the combine around 6ft tall and weighing 170lbs. Admittedly one knock that some scouts have for him is his build and need to bulk up. Thankfully, this is easy to build at the professional level. Nonetheless, Demidov has sturdy base that enables him to dominate around the boards and in front of the net due to his rapid twitch movements and lower body power. Demidov is able to outskate and outwork larger and stronger players by being smart with his legs and driving to the inside consistently when in transition. His remarkable agility and lower-body strength allow him to outmaneuver opponents and maintain possession in tight spaces, or separate for quick attacks or desperation back checking.
Skating:
Demidov's skating is characterized by irregularities; while he exhibits great power on his edges, his transitions suffer due to a wide stance, leading to questionable but explosive pivot work. Despite this, his rapid acceleration and agility enable him to navigate through traffic seamlessly, while his powerful stride generates significant momentum, making him a constant threat in transition. Let’s clear up a misconception; Demidov is not a bad skater. He’s got decent speed, a good handle on body control, power on the inside of his edges and with quick crossovers, etc. His posture and stance need work, but this is something that looks completely fixable at the NHL level. It doesn’t require a rebuild of his skating style, rather a retool that can utilize his edgework as a base. Instead of hunching over at the end of a shift and losing speed and energy, Demidov can rely on quicker small movement cuts on for rapid movement and longer, albeit slower strides while holding himself higher to preserve energy while covering distance. While the 10 and 2 skating that Demidov employs isn’t conventional, it allows him to see a good deal of the ice, and when in close provide breaking speed towards the play. Fixing the reliance on 10 and 2 also offers faster top level skating and easier quick pivoting in a 200ft game, rather than a longer turn. Again, his skating is unorthodox – but it isn’t bad. It’s not mechanically sound, but it can be polished to a high level without a large amount of concern. Because of how unpredictable his skating is now, scouts across the board acknowledge that it potentially even grants an advantage as his body is harder to read.
Scoring Ability:
A natural sniper, Demidov possesses a lethal shot with pinpoint accuracy and a lightning-quick release that catches goaltenders off guard. Whether he's unleashing a blistering wrist shot from the slot or wiring a one-timer on the power play, Demidov consistently finds the back of the net with precision and finesse. One really underrated part of Demidov’s scoring ability comes from the aforementioned elite edgework. Due to how rapidly he can change directions while holding full control over the puck, he can create scoring lanes with almost zero room, and his accuracy is again one of the best we’ve evaluated as amateur scouts in the last few drafts. When there isn’t an immediate opening or shot, Demidov is patient, draws coverage where he wants, and again has no qualms about firing the puck to the net. If there’s one question about his ability to score, it’s his slapshot. He hasn’t had to use it in almost any occasion due to how the offense is structured on SKA 1946, and therefore it’s not as developed as his snap or wrister. This is a relatively minor knock, though. Demidov can take slapshots and find twine without much difficulty, it’s just the least refined part of his goalscoring ability.
Playmaking and Elite Hands:
Demidov has the best hands that we have scouted. Better than McDavid, better than Fantilli, better than Hughes, better than Bedard, better than Michkov, and yes, better than Patrick Kane as a prospect. Yep, that good. Hadi Kalakeche, one of Dobber’s lead scouts says, “…he has THE best handling skill I’ve seen… he’s the closest thing we’ve seen to Pavel Datsyuk since Pavel Datsyuk.” The rapidity of his movement, the purposeful puck placement, the astounding protection rate, and his ability to pull defenders off of him without moving his body is unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. Again, he has the most individual puck skill and innate offensive talent in the draft. These skills with his hands allow him to become an absolutely next level playmaker. Demidov is crafty, and has a history of faking shots to make a pass, or vice versa to help his team. He’s able to create lanes and take advantage of his puck control by having absolutely next level zone entry to set up the offense on a consistent basis. While his decision making needs some work when it comes to choosing the best move, he almost always makes the right one, and is able to think through solutions when there’s no apparent move forward. Whether it’s a drop pass, running the puck up the boards, a regroup, finding a teammate with a perfectly slotted pass, Demidov has no real ceiling. The only question remains is whether these skills will work as well at the next level. All said though, there’s no real debate between scouts that he’ll be a franchise winger.
Creativity and IQ:
Demidov is electrifying, brilliant, dynamic, innovative, transcendent, and any other adjective you want to use. There is no prospect in this draft with Demidov’s offensive upside, including Macklin Celebrini. As mentioned above, Demidov has been compared to Datsyuk: he is stellar at opening up lanes with his body or finding passes, even if they’re banked off the boards. While Bedard is a guy who was expected to shoot first, Demidov is a passer. This works in his favor, though. Demidov certainly doesn’t lack a scoring touch. His positioning and body will tell goalies and defenders he’s planning to pass and he’s able to quickly change direction using his edges to put a shot on net. His ability to think several steps ahead of the play allows him to execute highlight-reel passes and capitalize on scoring opportunities that others on his team might miss, or simply not have the skill to execute. He’s unpredictable because his vision is at such a high level. He’s got a game reminiscent of Jack Hughes and Patrick Kane, and the way he views the game has scouts absolutely over the moon about his pro projection. There really is nothing that Demidov doesn’t have the ability to do – this year in the MHL he took advantage of the strength of competition and tested it out. Demidov tried different reads, different styles, working more heavily down the middle, shooting, playdriving, etc. We’re blown away by the flexibility that he shows across every facet of the game. A really fun quote to mention from Lassi Alanen, EP’s director of Euro scouting is, “I still have like 100+ unused clips of Demidov's play from this season. He must be the most clippable prospect I've ever watched. Something eye-catching happening almost every shift during his second half of the season.” Demidov’s highlight reel isn’t really a “reel” – that’s just how he plays the game on most shifts that he takes.
Physicality and Defensive Awareness:
Demidov's physicality extends well beyond his height, as he isn't afraid to throw his weight (all 170lbs) around and engage in board battles to win possession. His defensive awareness is equally impressive, as he uses his size and reach to disrupt passing lanes and apply pressure on opposing forwards both in the defensive zone and in the neutral zone, showcasing a commitment to playing a complete, two-way game. As briefly mentioned, Demidov doesn’t exclusively play wing – he plays center too. While he’s not going to be Patrice Bergeron he is capable of handling both ends of the ice, and has consistently improved his defensive play throughout the year.
Work Ethic and Engagement:
While almost all prospects “work hard” to play their best on the ice, Demidov does that little bit more. Despite being a winger, he’s consistently one of the first players up and down the ice. He rarely coasts and drifts around but is engaged rather consistently all around the ice. One thing that’s often hard to teach prospects is how to be aggressive and assertive without being risky. Demidov never worries about challenging his opponents, fighting hard board battles, or giving his all to get back into a play after he’s low after driving to the net. This is something that the Blackhawks LOVE in their players, and should hopefully encourage GMKD to pull the trigger, if everything else didn’t sell him. As we see Demidov continue to improve in skating with NHL coaches, this should only give him more energy to expend in the 200ft game, and improve his engagement across plays. He’s an absolute workhorse, and consistently pushes to improve which evidenced by the massive improvement across this season in the MHL. There’s no reason to think this same drive can’t come through on the NHL level.
Areas to Improve and Questions:
With all the hype around Demidov, it’s hard to initially understand why he’s considered a lower end prospect than Celebrini. Digging in, though, it becomes more clear. While Demidov has the higher ceiling, he also has a much lower floor. The number one factor that limits Demidov is his exposure to higher end competition. The MHL is a good league, but Demidov was ready for the KHL last year. Since he wasn’t exposed to higher end competition there is still question on how much of his skillset will translate when playing higher level men’s hockey. There isn’t an expectation of a problem, but when a player lacks that experience, it undoubtedly makes them more challenging to project. Remember, Demidov didn’t really play meaningful KHL minutes when he got 4 games this year. He got 13th forward exposure and didn’t play with the same linemates that he worked with in the pre-season. Nonetheless, he wasn’t perfect. He did see some questionable decisions while trying to adapt to higher competition. There’s little concern that this is an actual issue, but Demidov needs to grow and play against men, even for a few games, before coming to the NHL. Thankfully, he should have the entire season in 2024-2025, and I haven’t read a single scouting report that expects him to have an issue putting up Michkov+ numbers.
The second factor is skating. Demidov is a good skater, but he’s unorthodox at best. While this skating relies heavily on his edgework which gives him amazing playmaking ability, his pivoting, high end speed, position and stride could all use refinement and improvement. While these are all skating mechanics that are easier to fix, skating is NOT a guarantee. If he’s unable to improve his skating with NHL skating coaches, it could limit his upside. He is still expected to be a top line winger, but it could be the difference between 70+ and 100+ points if skating doesn’t develop. Remember, some scouts view his skating as a “hidden” upside in his game, but improving skating not only gives him more offensive flexibility, but also defensively. There’s room for improvement, and it could be an easier lever to correct to see high rewards from.
The third factor is decision making. Demidov is creative to a fault, but just like in art, not every project works out. With such an advanced toolkit, Demidov needs to work with video coaches to better understand which moveset is appropriate in which scenario and when to deploy it. There’s a difference between decision making and IQ. Decision making is hard to fix when a prospect is set in their ways based on playstyle, but if playstyle is more flexible, then there’s much less of a concern. IQ, on the other hand is uncoachable, and Demidov has arguably the best offensive IQ in the draft. There’s no reason to believe that he can’t fix this, but due to being stuck abroad, and potentially even the MHL again next year, it could take him a bit longer to get up to NHL speed.
The final factor is defense. While it seems that every single forward prospect has a knock on their defense, we can qualify Demidov’s specifics a bit more easily. Demidov is a competent defender, and a very good well rounded player, but again decision making plays a factor in the challenge of projecting him here. While players like Celebrini are dominant both ways, Demidov often doesn’t make the right choice when defending – he has a lot of offensive instincts which have him sit higher on the blue, and while he is always engaged on the puck, he needs to be more responsible in coverage rotations. Off the rush, Demidov doesn’t always read the play correctly, and the inconsistency can create shooting lanes for his opponent. Just like Michkov, he can also cheat on plays where he finds himself a bit further away from a play and loses sight of his defensive assignment. He’s extremely energetic and consistently pushes to get back, but working with him on understanding when to cheat will be important for his development as well. We again want to reemphasize that Demidov plays solid defense and a good two way game, especially for a wingecenter. But there’s room for improvement in terms of bridging the gap between him and other recent prospects like Celebrini, Carlsson, and Johnston.
Pro Projection:
While he doesn’t have the skating that Jack Hughes had, he’s still a great projection and comparable. A smaller but nimble player who isn’t afraid to get involved on the rush, around the boards, or in transition. Demidov’s offensive upside is similar as well – like Hughes, the defense isn’t the best, but he’s able to run an entire offense both on the wing and playing center. He’s creative to a fault, has a great set of hands, and the toolkit to be a consistent top 5 player at his position in the NHL. Pro projections are always hard because you can never guarantee how a player will turn out, whether they’re undrafted or a #1OA, but Demidov is truly all but a sure thing. His creativity rivals players like Nikita Kucherov and Mitch Marner in their ability to think ahead of where the play is, his handling rivals Kane and Datysuk, his defensive play is above average for a winger, he has a great shot comparable to players like Matt Tkachuk, and is a bitch to get off the puck. Even when Demidov is literally on the ground, he’s consistently able to hold possession and find a play with no room left. With a toolkit like his, decent size at an estimated 6ft, there should be no reservations that Demidov should succeed at the next level. Most scouts see his floor around 65-70 points, and his ceiling closer to 120. I stand by the Jack Hughes comp I made earlier. While they differ in skating, they play very similar games, and should expect similar success at the next level.
Quotes:

“He’s got the best hands in the draft… and has made more one-on-one skill plays so far this season than almost any prospect I’ve scouted for any draft. He’s also a pretty engaged off-puck player who keeps his feet moving, hunts pucks on the forecheck, and can turn a steal into a game-breaking play in an instant.”
Scott Wheeler, The Athletic
“Demidov is already a game-breaking forward who can move the puck effortlessly and there’s no question he’d be a fantastic partner to some of the best prospects in the NHL today. His production in the MHL is comparable to Patrick Kane’s 2006-07 season with the Ontario Hockey League’s London Knights… Demidov is a bonafide first-line winger who will score tons of goals.”
Dayton Reimer, The Hockey Writers
“In a vacuum he’s the most talented forward this draft class has to offer outside of Celebrini. Demidov possesses many of the same traits Celebrini does, only his track record is against younger, more unproven talent."
Sam Cosentino, Sportsnet
“The talent of Demidov is impossible to deny. His raw skills might be the best in terms of offense in the entire draft. His puckhandling, shot, passing, and even skating makes him a unique hockey player and prospect. There are many great offensive players, but not many quite like Demidov. Especially who will also have a great drive and motor to play a strong 200 foot game… he could easily be a point per game player in the NHL on most teams first line.”
Frederik Frandsen, Last Word on Sports
“At the end of the day, what you get in a player like Ivan Demidov is a generational offensive dynamo with the mind of a master chess player. Each time he gains possession of the biscuit, his ability to think many steps ahead of the opponent, find creative solutions involving his puck handling abilities, as well as creating tremendous execution at creating space with his skating or precisely hitting the net is considered to be up to par at the NHL level.”
Tyler Ballesteros-Willard, Draft Prospects Hockey
“Any forward that has ever had the type of equivalency we’ve seen from Demidov in his pre-draft year and draft year, going back to the ’80s, has turned into a point-per-game-plus superstar over their careers… You need stars to compete and contend in the NHL, and Demidov is almost guaranteed to be that.”
Byron Bader, Hockey Prospecting
“Demidov is the most dynamic, verstatile, and creative [puck] handler we’ve seen come through the draft in recent years. Elements of his on-puck decision-making remain raw, but his upside as a 100-point top-line winger is supported by decent off-puck and defensive engagement and lightning-quick processing of the game. His elite-level of on-puck intelligence and his trifecta of dynamic handling, playmaking, and goalscoring tools give him the foundation to become an electrifying creative force and offensive driver.”
Sebastian High, Dobber
“Demidov breaks defences. He spots a tiny gap in coverage, bursts right through, and blows it open. He plays mostly a finesse game, but does so hyper-aggressively, attacking everything he can. Demidov succeeds at pulling off plays that most prospects can't. He plans, processes, and anticipates faster than he can stickhandle. He's a pure creator with the puck, making plays out of nothing.”
David St. Louis, Elite Prospects
“Demidov is the more dynamic and flashy prospect [Than Michkov].Demidov is the single-most gifted handler in the entire 2024 class. He projects to be the superior one-on-one attacker…someone who can single-handedly create out of thin air. When it comes to passing ability…Demidov’s ability to chain together handling sequences into following passing plays is second to none.”
Lassi Alanen, Elite Prospects
“It’s a no brainer[at #2OA]. It’s Ivan Demidov all day, every day, 24/7. You run to the stage and pick him… if you ask me, Ivan Demidov is better than Matvei Michkov… He’s the only prospect in our rankings who we gave a 10 grade to for a specific ability. It’s not just the handling skill in isolation it’s the creativity. He comes up with solutions no one can expect.. his motor is underrated, puts in work defensively… it’s a no brainer there.”
Hadi Kalakeche, Locked on NHL/Dobber

Our Scouting:
Clip 1:
As we talked about prior, Demidov has a great IQ and the ability to create lanes and plays out of nothing. Demidov pushes up the ice and enters the zone with pressure closing onto the side. He uses his hands to pull in control, but more impressively, puts his body between the defender and the puck. He uses his edgework and breaking speed to push past the defender, then is patient enough to draw 3 defenders towards him, away from his teammate. When he sees the trailing defenseman waiting, he immediately finds a tight pass for a wide open teammate to capitalize.
Clip 2:
There’s a difference between a safe move, and then there’s an insane move. Watch as Demidov comes up on the left side. He sees that the defender is getting desperate and goes for a large poke. Demidov slides the puck under the Dman’s stick and once again shows off his patience. Instead of going for a quick shot he reads that the other defender is slowly coming across the crease to prevent a passing lane. Instead of just shooting like most players, Demidov baits the goalie into thinking he’s going to run into the defenseman, and in that second, puts the puck in the net.
Clip 3:
Small play, but this is just about how slick his passing is. He slides the puck through a very tight lane while baiting the defenseman into sliding due to not knowing where the play is going to be.
Clip 4:
While we can put on nonstop highlights, it’s also important to see how smart Demidov’s game is. Demidov and the other SKA players move the puck around a bit trying to find an opening until they give it to Demidov. Demidov reads an open play and passes the puck down, but instead of immediately following the puck or staying at his spot, Demidov uses his high engagement to instead move to the other side of the net down low to offer accessory support for his teammates on his anticipated cross crease pass, should there have been a rebound.
Clip 5:
Not every highlight is going to be a goal. One really underrated part of Demidov’s game is how well he’s able to read the offense. As he holds high initially, he’s able to help move the puck out in order to reset the offense when the play fails. His motor keeps him in the play and with his excellent edges, he’s able to make a quick pivot after rushing around in order to step up and create an open shooting lane. While his teammate can’t make the pass to get the puck to him, Demidov read where the play WOULD be, not just where it was. Those IQ aspects really can’t be taught, and are part of what makes him so special. By anticipating the open play rather than following the puck, he establishes himself as a play driver by creating options rather just following and executing structure at a high level.
Clip 6:
We're not even going to analyze this one. It’s just fucking fun. Talent oozes.
Clip 7:
This video has a ton of highlights, which I’d definitely recommend watching, but we’re going to focus specifically on the play at 0:45. We can post clips of Demidov scoring goals, finding breakaways, etc. all day long, but when thinking about translation to the NHL, IQ and decision making is what we’re really drying to drill down on. Demidov arrives in the zone through to middle and pushes the initial F1 to the F3 spot and changes the rotation. The puck is dumped to him and the initial F1 leaves a drop pass for Demidov approaching the goal. As soon as Demidov gets the puck, at 0:47, you can see him primed and in a good shooting position. The bigger defender misread the play and has drifted too far towards the center of the ice, leaving Demidov with a nearly unobstructed shooting lane as the netfront defenseman is also too far toward the middle. Instead of taking the shot, he instead waits to draw over the netfront defenseman, and the bigger defenseman closer towards him, leaving his teammate literally untouched across the crease. Demidov trusts his hands and ability with an extremely quick and accurate pass through the stick range of three defenders to find his teammate wide open. His decision making has been progressively improving and his ability to look off the shot to find an elite pass will translate extremely well to the next level.
Clip 8:
Another play where you can just be excited about Demidov. The puck is wrapped up around the boards and the defenseman sitting at the top of the blue just pushes the puck back into the zone without a clear target, or a player who has an explicit opening to the puck. If anything, the puck is put in the middle of all 5 Karpat skaters. Despite starting on the outside, Demidov’s engagement shines through where he uses his edgework to get a rapid explosive burst of speed, and pushes through both defenders in front of him to gain possession. Once he gains possession, his ability to control the puck, and his handles help to demonstrate just how strong of a prospect Demidov is. Even when the defender is falling onto him, Demidov is patient, makes the netfront defender bite to believe he’s going wide, creating a lane (effectively bypassing 3 separate Karpat players) to get to the goalie unobstructed. Then, his hands come out and he absolutely undresses the netminder with moves that the video literally cannot fully capture. He makes highlights like this look routine, every single game.
Clip 9:
Sometimes when you see a play it’s hard to say anything but wow. Demidov leads the rush through the neutral zone and reads the coverage a much less conventional 1-4 scheme. The offensive rush is a bit unconventional as well, but can offer a smart solution. By having 3 attackers, two concentrated up the middle and one wide, it allows for quick movement up the middle, and post defensive collapse onto the puck, a pass to the outside for a clear entry lane and shot. Demidov passes to his teammate directly across the center of the ice as he expects that teammate to immediately get puck to their teammate on the outside as coverage collapses. Demidov gauges where the openings are pre pass, as evidenced by the head movement. Unfortunately, instead of immediately passing again to the outside for an open lane, his teammate runs into pressure, and panics. He passes back to Demidov who is less than 8ft away and will inevitably will run into immediate pressure as well. Somehow, this is no problem for Demidov. He collects the puck with the literal tip of his stick, uses his body push the defender off, and then pulls the puck in while facing the wrong direction to slip past the defender. Despite being placed in a no win situation his hands and creativity shine through and he creates a clean lane to shoot the puck at the net. It’s almost inhuman what he’s able to do with his hands. When he gets to the net, he’s patient, baits the goalie, pulls wide, and then puts in a clean backhand. Some of these highlights are literally awe-inspiring.
Closing Thoughts:
If this scouting report doesn’t get you excited for Demidov, we don’t think anything will. He’s truly the most electric player in the draft with absolutely ridiculous hands, compete, dynamic play, and highlight reel performance. His IQ is next level, and his hands allow him to do truly amazing things with his skillset and competency. Demidov’s vision is absurd; he consistently makes passes to his teammates without looking, or sends a pass before a teammate has a clean break by using anticipation. These RARELY lead to a turnovers and are often not only creative but unorthodox methods to continue to move the puck up ice. Although his skating is unorthodox, he’s explosive, able to create comprehensive offensive maneuvers due to quick transitions, and make off angle passes with ease due to his edgework. He is elite in transition and able to run a breakout, an offense, and play any of the F1/F2/F3 roles when the situation calls for it. Despite his expected size of “only” 6ft 170lbs, Demidov knows how to use his body and hands. He not only protects the puck on offense but can draw defenders away from his teammates in predictable patterns, once again opening up space for him to capitalize. The same goes for defense where he's able to use his positioning to get the edge on his opponents for a rapid takeaway or a box out off the rush.
As we mentioned earlier, Demidov’s game isn’t limited only to offense, he has a decent understanding of the two way game as well. He’s a relentless forechecker, aggressive on the boards, and also always willing to use his high running motor to jump back into a play that leaves the zone, even if he’s right next to the net. Demidov has the most skill and raw talent out of any player in this draft, including Celebrini. Had Demidov not been demoted to the MHL due to SKA’s poor management, there is almost no doubt that he would be considered nearly neck and neck with Celebrini. As it is now, Demidov is ranked #2 on most boards, and the overall #2 in the consolidated ranking. Demidovs don’t come around often; people last year were genuinely considering whether Michkov was at Bedard’s level. Demidov rivals Michkov if not exceeds him.
You can nitpick the analysis we have of any one single aspect of Demidov. Not everyone buys analytics. Not everyone buys playmaking in a lower league. Not everyone likes irregular skating. Not everyone is on board with the MHL stat sheet, our hype etc. etc. We get it. Really, we do. But at the end of the day, when you step back and appreciate the full body of work, the comps, the analytics, the rave scouting reports, unanimous love, models, stat sheets, skill, work ethic, and more that ALL say that this kid is elite, there’s fire beyond the smoke. Demidov is THE guy. There should not be a debate at #2.
For those of you who made it to the end, thanks for reading! Ultimately we know there will be inevitable debate about a prospect, but we appreciate you hearing us out, and at least letting me, u/GoldWhale, spam the sub over the last few weeks in love of Demidov. Whether or not you agree with our analysis, we encourage you to do your own scouting, read from the authors we've included, watch through all the highlights in the linked videos, and draw your own conclusions!
We appreciate everyone in this community, and will try to answer any questions that you may have in the comments. If you so choose, please feel free to crosspost to other subs, edit, or utilize this writeup anywhere you like (forums/blogs/youtube etc.), just link back to our original post! For those in professional media who have contacted us with the hope of utilizing our writeup, feel free, again just link back to the original post as well. Thanks again!

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
"Leave the sleeping dragons lie in peace" is a lesson that seemingly has to be taught to every wannabe conqueror over and over again.
Time after time, there will be a few idiots who only see the dragon's hoard, its cult of followers, and ignore the piles of rusted, slagged, calcified, scorched remains of every moron who tried before them. They see all of this and think "I can beat it to submission and take everything it has."
And then the dragon wakes up, and more smoldering remains are added to the scorched scrap heap.
And the Malevolent Universe grins in the darkness, and increases the "Dead morons who should have known better" counter by one. Then, waits for the next contestant. - u/Matt_Bradock, Terran Philosopher, Age of Paranoia, TerraSol
^{initiating data stream
your name is Dhruv-661391
you were purchased for the same price as a moderately priced luxury vehicle}
She knows the dead. She is of the dead. She is the keeper and guardian of the dead. Life, death and the feasting of swarms all are one within her. She knows where once-dead things were laid to rest and where the deathless still dream in their unliving slumber. She knows where the hungry dead have roamed the universe's fields, and where they still roam them unburied, and why no one remembers them as they tread. - The Fifth Horseman, First Terran Imperium, "Meditations Upon Immortals"
^{you were created to serve}
What we tell ourselves, what we tell others, and what actually happened, are often three different things.
And sometimes four. - Unknown, Age of Paranoia, TerraSol
^{your name is Dhruv
and your brain was once smooth}
Captain N'Skrek checked his datalink.
The deep data storage was still at work bringing up information on "Legion" and "Sacajawea". The older databases of the Gray Lady had data at the ready, but it was sparse.
Two of the Biological Apostles of the Digital Omnimessiah, a figure of myth and legend.
Yet, they sat across from him.
They were talking back and forth in a language that the computer's linguistic database had no record of and stubbornly resisted any attempt to decipher it.
What N'Skrek did hear was several words that he recognized.
Daxin the Unfeeling. Daxin Freeborn. Chromium Saint Peter. Enraged Phillip. Matthias the Elder. Matthias the Younger. Kibuka. Kalki. Gravity.
A litany that left data scrolling down the empty space just beyond the edge of his peripheral vision.
Daxin "The Walking War Crime" Freeborn.
NavInt and MilInt were projecting with an 80% certainty (adjusted downward for unknown probabilities) that the beings in front of him were from that long bygone era.
Finally Captain N'Skrek cleared his throat.
The bald one, Legion, turned to look at the gathered staff officers.
"My apologies. I was catching my sister up on what has transpired since she disappeared," Legion said, smiling gently. He nodded. "You probably have questions."
N'Skrek nodded back. "The biggest one is: how did you..." he thought for a second. "Why did you..." no, that wouldn't work. "What bring about..."
Legion smiled.
"How did I replace all of your clones and why?" he asked. "Why is it that if you print off too many identical clones I show up?"
N'Skrek nodded. "Yes."
Legion looked at the Terran officers and smiled wider. It was a cruel smile, reminding N'Skrek of a hook pointed knife that had been sharpened to a keen edge.
"You didn't tell them? Have you really forgotten about me?" he asked.
"It was assumed to be still prevented by the cloning systems," Vice-Admiral Breakheader stated slowly. "We have only recently been restored ourselves. Less than two months time."
Legion just smiled.
Vice-Admiral Breakheader turned to look at Captain N'Skrek. "Running off too many identical clones causes Legion to manifest. It's why we use the Born Whole system, it ensures they have different brains, different expriences, and they have a slight variation to pore and retinal patterns, hair growth, minor things like that. Otherwise, Legion manifests."
"Why?" N'Skrek asked.
The Vice-Admiral sat silently for a moment before replying. "Because," was all he said.
Legion's smile didn't leave his face.
"Because it is my nature," he said.
Sacajawea said something and Legion replied in the same language, then turned to N'Skrek.
"My sister does not know why she was rebirthed," he said. He looked at her and spoke rapidly. She answered, only a few words, which made Legion reply at length. Again, only a few words.
"It must have been important," N'Skrek interrupted.
"She states that she does not know why the Immortals system did not rebirth her when she died," Legion said. He glanced at her. "She tells me that she died, with her people, when her peaceful planet was attacked."
"By the Mar-gite?" N'Skrek asked.
Again, more conversation.
"Yes," Legion answered. He frowned as she spoke again. "She says they were a peaceful planet. Anarcho-Primitivism. Very little technology. The Mar-gite attacked without warning."
She spoke rapidly and Legion listened.
N'Skrek saw the computer still was not able to parse the language, even though it could build a lexicon of off very little data for almost any other language it encountered.
Legion turned and faced N'Skrek. "She states that she believes it was the fact that some of her people demanded that high technology be left in place in order to allow the six planets her people had settled to remain in contact. That the high tech farming and sustenance industries led the Mar-gite to attack her."
Again, Sacajawea spoke, her head lifted, looking down at Legion.
"Why she was not reborn is unknown to her. She had guided and shepherded her people for thousands of years before the outsiders came. Outsiders drawn by technology, by the abandonment of the old ways," Legion said. He was frowning as he spoke rapidly.
The conversation took a few minutes.
"She said the outsiders came and wiped her people out after entire generations held them off. That in the final battle, they overcame her when her strength failed," Legion said. There was more talking. "She's describing the Mar-gite."
"Where was this?" N'Skrek asked, bringing up a map of the galaxy. "The First Mar-gite War was only three hundred years prior to the Council-Confederacy Conflict and lasted nearly a hundred years," the brought up a sketchy timeline of the era. "When did you encounter the Mar-gite and where?"
Sacajawea spoke again at length. Legion spoke back. It grew heated for a moment before Legion looked at N'Skrek.
"She will not say. She does not want us to defile or desecrate the worlds her people settled. She does not want us to know when or where," he said.
"That might be pertinent information," N'Skrek said. "Important information to keep the Mar-gite from overwhelming the Cygnus-Orion Spur."
Sacajawea spoke quickly, heatedly, half standing up. Legion put his hand on her shoulder, obviously encouraging her to sit down, but she shrugged, throwing off Legion's hand, and her speech got more heated, her eyes flashing with anger.
"She says she will not reveal her people's resting place for us to dig up the graves and desecrate them. That it is not anyone's business where The People have gone or what The People have done," Legion said. He turned and answered her.
The conversation got heated as the N'Skrek and the officers watched.
Finally, Sacajawea stood up and turned around, folding her arms across her chest, lifting her chin.
Legion's skin darkened with anger.
"Then you can tell them that load of bullshit yourself, little sister," he snapped.
He suddenly vanished in a swirl of black powder that evaporated.
N'Skrek saw that Sacajawea was shocked by Legion's disappearance. She stood there for a long moment.
"Dhruv?" she asked mid-air.
N'Skrek motioned his officers to stay silent.
"Dhruv?" she snapped, stomping one foot.
Still silence.
"Luke!' she half-shouted, stamping her foot again.
She turned and looked at the gathered staff officers, who were all staring at her.
"Legion?" she asked quietly.
N'Skrek held up one bladearm.
"It appears, Miss, that you will have to speak for yourself."
Sacajawea frowned and clamped her lips together.
N'Skrek just stared mildly.
^{your name was tiffany}
0-0-0-0-0
^{your name was dhruv
you were created to serve the deshmuhk family
you were a gardener and a menial
but you have risen above that}
Jaskel had just gotten a plate of food and sat down in one corner of the cavernous Dining Bay Twenty-Three.
True, it was a little bit of a walk from the Telkan Marine section to that particular dining facility, but for some reason Jaskel liked the food put out by Nutriforge-Eight better than any of the others.
Like the Gunny always said, it was the little things that count.
He had arranged his silverware, his drink, and given a short prayer when he suddenly wasn't alone.
A slender man in an unfamiliar uniform suddenly appeared at one of the tables on the far side of the Dining Bay. Jaskel watched as two more stepped out of the first. They all sat down and started talking rapidly.
To Jaskel, it sounded like an argument.
It looked like one person arguing with himself.
Jaskel ate quietly and slowly, trying to avoid attracting attention, but watching the Terran out of the corner of his eye.
Terrans were universally half-crazy.
And a Terran arguing with clones of himself was probably full blown crazy.
That, and Jaskel remembered how negligent the display of power had been that had left him hanging upside down in mid-air.
Much to the amusement of his squad mates who watched the video and laughed.
He was down to dessert when the far door opened and a woman entered. Jaskel recognized her instantly as the young adult Terran woman who had appeared nude from the cloning banks, even though she was clad in clothing made of brown material and decorated with beads.
She immediately made a bee-line for the man, who had gotten a plate with a piece of pie on it while the other two argued between each other.
She stopped and stomped on foot, staring down at the sitting man.
"You look stupid," the man, Legion, said when she stopped next to him.
"Dhruv," she snapped. She rattled off words that Jaskel's datalink couldn't translate.
"Not talking to you until you speak Confederate Standard. I know you know it," Legion/Dhruv stated.
She stomped her foot again. "Luke!" she snapped.
Legion looked up. "Part of me, a large part of me, feels that you lost the right to call me by that name."
He went back to eating the pie. When the woman looked at the two clones who were staring at her, they stared back for a moment then puffed into black dust that swirled and vanished.
Jaskel kept watching out of the corner of his eye.
"Dhruv," she snapped.
"Go away, Sacajawea," Legion said.
She stood there for a moment. Then she suddenly leaned forward and slapped the plate of pie away from Legion.
"I will not call you Legion," she suddenly said as the plate clattered against the far bulkhead.
"Go away," Legion said. He looked up. "Let me put it in a way you might understand better: I just want left alone."
The woman stepped back, one hand going to her mouth.
"Yeah, still scared of him, aren't you," Legion said. He stood up. "Or are you?" he moved so he was clear of the table. "Were you ever afraid of him, Sacajawea, or was it all an act?"
Sacajawea looked away. "He was everything wrong with the world, a living reminder of what kind of men destroyed my people."
Legion suddenly laughed. "You forget history, little sister. But, of course, you never had any use for history unless it served your own ends."
Sacajawea stomped her foot. "Dhruv, be nice."
"No," Legion said, his voice low and intent. "I have yet to hear you thank me for what I did in the cloning bay, much less what I did for you before you ran off and left me holding the bag."
^{your name was luke
remember remember
your name was luke}
"I came back to find Matthias the Elder standing over the sundered murdered code of the Digital Omnimessiah," Legion said. "Then Daxin showed up, Matthias claimed I killed our Digital Father, so I ran."
"And he followed. Intent on killing you," Sacajawea sniffed.
"Yes!' Legion said. "Of course he did! I would have chased me in that situation," Legion said. He stepped forward. "And where were you, Little Sister, when it happened?"
She looked away and sniffed. "I was performing my duty, serving my people. As you well know."
Legion turned around, facing away from her. "Yeah, the people you had me bake up," he turned back around. "Not the poor bastards fighting a slowly losing war against the Mantid. They were your people too, but you left them behind. If it wasn't for the Mechakrautlanders, they'd be extinct with the rest of humanity."
"They had set aside the old ways. I told you that," Sacajawea said. She gave a sniff and turned her head away. "They were too consumed by blood lust, they would not stop fighting, would not embrace the old ways."
"EVERYONE WAS FIGHTING!" Legion shouted in a voice that made Jaskel's drink glass rattle. "There were hab-kids fighting and dying in destroyed hab-blocks in the ruins of megalopolises. It had nothing to do with 'the old ways', it was a fight for survival."
"You would not understand," Sacajawea said. She gave another sniff, still looking away. "I took my people away from where technology and the abandonment of the ways of our people had led us."
Legion stood still for a second.
"Don't give me that shit about your 'people', remember, I touched you. I know the truth," Legion said. He shook his head. "You had a task. A task to help us, help our Digital Father, help all of humanity, but you abandoned it."
"I had a task to help my people," Sacajawea sniffed. "I owed nothing to the world that stood aside or actively took part while my people were destroyed," she looked at Legion. "You wouldn't understand."
Jaskel could see purple electricity snarling around Legion's boots, clawing at the deckplates with thread-thick fingers.
"You were supposed to guide us along the path to the SUDS, so we could save everyone, Sacajawea," Legion said. "You betrayed us. Betrayed them. You were supposed to save them."
"Like they saved my people, Luke?" Sacajawea asked.
"You don't call me that any more, little sister," Legion said. "For the love of the Detainee, fucking let go of shit that doesn't matter any more. We humans have been genocided repeatedly since then."
"I'm not calling you Legion. That reeks of arrogance and pride," Sacajawea said. "And it matters to me, Luke."
"You talk a lot of shit for someone named Bird Woman," Legion snapped back. "How about I call you Tiffany?"
Sacajawea took a step back. "That is not my name. That was never my true name."
"You forget. I could see under that skin job. See who you were born as. I knew the truth, and I've kept it secret for all these eons," Legion said. He turned away. "You left us, left humanity behind on your so-called quest."
He turned back to face her.
"Now, again, we're facing extinction. The Mar-gite, they wiped you out. Now they're here in overwhelming force to the point where I'm not even sure Fortress Sol can hold them off," Legion said. "And you still want to play pretend."
He turned his back on her.
"You're no different than Matthias the Elder," Legion said quietly.
There was a dreadful silence for a long moment.
"I told Daxin, sitting in the parking garage where we used to meet, that we had to let go of the past. Learn from it, admit it happened, but we had to let it all go. The old hatreds, the old angers, the old rage," Legion said softly. "He agreed. He said perhaps it was time for us to leave the mortals behind. Let them go without us dragging baggage from worlds and events dead and gone behind us."
Sacajawea sniffed. "It's different for the two of you, neither one of you had your people..."
"I was a short bake slave clone, Tiffany," Legion said, his voice still soft and quiet. "Just like your family owned."
Sacajawea opened her mouth to answer, her eyes flashing hotly.
"One of millions grown in a vat every year. Made in humanity's image but without its grace," Legion's voice was nearly a whisper. "Our little band of siblings, only Kalki, Gravity, and Daxin came from families that did not order one of me from an online catalogue. Even Bellona lived with my people performing menial labor for her colony."
Sacajawea stepped forward, obviously about to deliver a scathing retort.
"But my people didn't count, did we, Tiffany?" Legion asked. He gave a deep sigh. "I loved you, you know."
Her mouth closed. She looked confused.
"When you left, I created another of you," Legion said quietly. "She was, of course, captured by the Imperium, like all of the Biological Apostles," he looked down at the floor. "It was why they didn't know you'd escaped."
Jaskel wished he was anywhere but in the dining bay.
"Eventually, that version of you threw off the Imperium's chains like we did. She went back to Terra. Worked tirelessly to rebuild. Eventually, led the Dandelion Fleet that became the Sky Nebula Alignment."
It was silent except for the muted sounds a starship under power in Transit Space made.
"I'll go back with you. Translate for you," Legion said, his voice still soft. He turned to face the woman.
"Just... just stop lying, Tiffany," he said.
He was silent a moment.
"I had hoped that it was that version, my version, the version I had been madly in love with, that version of you that had been rebirthed," he said. "The version who guided her people, who succored them, who helped them rebuild, who helped them thrive in the scarred and shattered world Earth had become. I had hoped, when I saw you, that you were her."
^{the buzzing can still be heard
your name is legion}
"But it's just you."
0-0-0-0-0
Captain N'Skrek watched as Legion led Sacajawea into the briefing room.
He had been busy looking up every scrap of information on the Digital Omnimessiah, the Biological Apostles, Legion, and Sacajawea.
Of all of them, information was scarcest, almost non-existent, on Sacajawea.
He waited as the Terran woman took a drink from the glass in front of her.
She looked around.
"During the Human-Mantid War, before the destruction of the Overqueen by the forces of MechaKrautland, before the Liberation of Terra," she started. She closed her eyes, sighed, and opened them. "I begged Vat Grown Luke, who you know as Legion, to clone my people and help me repair and then hijack four colony transports crashed in the Middle Kingdom."
She looked down and Legion reached over and took her hand. She looked startled for a moment, squeezed Legion's hand gently, and looked back up.
"I led my people away. From the Imperium, from Terra, from the War," she said. She reached out and touched the holo-emitter, bringing up a map of the Milky Way. She touched a single arm.
"I led them here. For over eight thousand years my people knew peace, prosperity, and plenty," she said. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply.
N'Skrek recognized it as a sign of stress in Terrans.
"Roughly twelve hundred Terran Standard Years prior to the Council-Confederacy Conflict, we were attacked," she said. She looked down. "I had sworn to protect my people, to use my powers to protect my people, which had grown to fill six worlds."
She looked back up.
"The Mar-gite destroyed my people in under a decade," she said. She looked down again. "And me with them."
"A glitch in the system prevented her from moving to Afterlife or being rebirthed," Legion said. "A glitch I had caused when I helped her."
"The Mar-gite destroyed my people here," Sacajawea said, her voice filled with pain.
A single cluster of six stars burned brightly.
Deep in the Scutum-Crux Arm.
^{your name is legion}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

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

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

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

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

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

(Long story srry)
Wanted to share my journey here with dry eyes in hopes that someone else might find my story useful.
I want to premise this by saying I’ve always been an active person, going to the gym 6-7 times a week and being an avid lifter. I’m fairly strict with my diet but not afraid to indulge here and there. I have also been someone who has always had sensitive eyes and skin and I’ve struggled with getting pink eye regularly throughout my 20’s.
February 2023 I stayed at an Airbnb and woke up with terrible pink eye. I waited a day hoping I could resolve it with over the counter medication but the next day having seen that it was getting worse I went to urgent care.
I thought this could be related to an Airbnb that wasn’t cleaned properly or the detergent from the sheets being too strong.
I was put on antibiotic eye drops for a week and after there was still traces left. I went to urgent care again and they kept me on antibiotics for another week and told me to see an optometrist if the issue didn’t resolve.
1 week later I had seen no change and scheduled an appt with an eye doctor. The doctor wanted to keep me on eye drops but switched to a stronger brand. She said my glands looked healthy, I showed no dryness but that my eyes looked like they were having an allergic reaction but that it was rare to have an allergic reaction without oozing and itching. At the time I wore DIY eyelash extensions but had removed them the night before getting pink eye to give my eyes a rest. She ensured me it wasn’t my extensions. 1 more visit with her and 5 more visits being told the same thing with an ophthalmologist, I was diagnosed with dry eye.
A week later I got laid off from my job therefore booted off my insurance and could no longer afford the prescription so I resorted to my own research to find the root cause for my irritation.
I tried everything under the sun. Paid out of pocket for a blood indoor allergy test only to find out I had none, got off birth control, slept with a humidifier, tried Manuka honey, and all other natural oils. Though some of these gave me temporary relief none helped the root cause and my symptoms were only getting worse.
I eventually stopped wearing makeup altogether and slipped into the worst depression feeling like there was no hope. I stopped drinking with friends because I knew the alcohol would cause me to wake up with my eye inflamed, stopped wanting to go out, and stopped getting ready for the day because I knew I wouldn’t feel confident with my constantly inflamed eye.
I convinced myself I had a vitamin deficiency, having just moved in with my bf and my diet taking a bit of a turn so started taking multiple supplements. Still nothing helped.
I went 12 months without insurance, and waited for the day I could secure a job with it. After getting a new full-time job it was the first thing I did. I went to see a holistic doctor this time, hoping they would actually listen to me and give me answers. By this time I had also become congested, had TERRIBLE dry lips that burned constantly and developed skin problems under my nose when I never had before.
She wanted to run multiple blood tests on me and told me the exact same thing as the previous three doctors in that my eye looked like it was having an allergic reaction. She asked me if during the time I had started taking anything new. Nothing came to mind at the time.
I had to stop taking all supplements for 2 days and fast for 8 hours before my blood tests and I noticed that during that time my lips and skin had slightly felt better.
Post tests I decided to continue doing so, only taking my magnesium and fish oil. After two weeks I noticed significant change in my lips and skin.
Thinking back on it the ONLY supplement I had consistently took, spanning 2 years before even getting pink eye, WAS A B-COMPLEX.
I got my blood results back and was regular in all things including iron, gut health, hormones, and autoimmune. The only test that came back irregular and extremely high was B12- which made sense.
It’s been 32 days now without b complex and my skin and lips are completely resolved and my eyes are 70% healed.
Still unsure how this resulted in my onset pink eye. Thinking maybe, my at time 2 years of b-complex use, the sheet detergent in the airbnb (I always use sensitive detergent), my face wash (which I found out also irritated my eyes), and maybe my retinol under eye cream (which I’ve also given up since) all created the perfect concoction for my dry eye to progress suddenly??
After a year of pure hell and my confidence reaching an all time low I’m starting to feel like myself again and I really just wanted to share my story. PLEASE LOOK AT THE REGULAR SUPPLEMENTS YOU’RE TAKING. I had a reaction after 2 YEARS of regular use. I think this is called a vitamin toxicity. But thinking I was only helping my health, the idea of it being my b-complex completely went over my head. I was poisoning myself this whole time.
My doctor suspects my eye will go back to normal after another month.
A year before getting pink eye I had also gotten angular chellitis for 4 MONTHS and couldn’t figure out what the cause was, it just went away one day. I’ve also had no libido the last 1.5 years, thinking this was all related to the same problem.
I hope this helps!

The players have been made aware of this, and have agreed. This is not meant to be a discussion of railroading.
Each player, some in groups, have had, or will have a private session leading up to the official start. They all start in the same place, against their will. Each character has something unique about them, or valuable, that would be appealing to slave traders. A very popular line of work in this part of the world. With undead being pretty much eradicated, cheap labor had to come from elsewhere. The party are more special than cheap labor.
A orc who wanted to escape the violence of his people and live peacefully. The reputation of his kin follows him everywhere.
An elvish princess, a rare thing in a world where there's around 500 elves left.
A bounty hunter, apart of a very well known clan, who possesses many trade secrets and tools. Many want their revenge.
A pair of twins who stumbled upon artifacts they shouldn't have. Otherworldly powers, and an unfair debt owed.
This corner of the world attracts many tourists for the same reason LA or Vegas does. There is endless opportunity for those willing to work for it, or a life of luxury for those who can afford it. Streets are filled with gambling, and exotics imports from all over the world. Gladiator style areas however is what brings in the most. Warriors from all over to come to show off their strength, willingly or not. For slave traders, this is where the money is. A fighter who can put on a show is a very valuable thing, and why 3/5 of the characters start off as prisoners.
The orc, elf, and bounty hunter are from across the region. Kidnapped for purposes that will be revealed later to them, backstory elements coming into play that made them desirable and worth the risk. The twins are apart of the gang who takes them, but they are not involved with this part. They simple are muscle, and smuggle drugs around for the gang. Session 1 is the first time the twins meet the other side of the business, and it's not for a promotion.
The session starts with the twins arriving to the hideout. Located at an old mining operation in the middle of the desert, it has been fortified and turned into something more. The old gates reinforced to create an area, and the entrance into the mines a jail. Deeper inside has been turned into a temple of Anubis, the prominate god of the area, but not all is what it seems. The twins are brought here to witness a fight. An elf druid, one traveling with the elf princess at the time of her capture is in the area trying to talk an owlbear out of eating with with little success. He wild shapes into a small bird in an attempt to escape, only to be shot out of the sky immediately by a guard with a long rifle. His death is quick, and gruesome as the owlbear does its thing to the prone man.
Afterwards, the twins are escorted inside. Past the jail, into the deeper chambers where they meet their boss. A Dwarvish women who immediately comes across as disliking them. She wants to test the twins loyalty, and this is when the characters are all brought together. The other 3 characters are brought into the room. One by one they are shot by the boss, and brought back by a cleric of Anubis, leaving only the twins left standing. This is just a showing of how she's willing to get her hands dirty, cause the twins want something that belongs to her.
The twins last big job was a heist. They needed to retrieve a silver jewelry box, and they had one rule. Under no circumstances is that box opened. Well, it was, but not willingly. The jewelry box contained a scale of a mercury dragon - dragons are rare, god-like beings here, and a scale like this is akin to an artifact rarity magic item. This Mercury dragon just happens to be the patron of the brother now, as the scale absorbed into him, through no choice or fault of his own. The boss wanted this power to herself, and upon retrieving the box, it didn't appear to be opened. Imagine her disappointment when she found it was empty. The brother was the only one alone with the box.
The sister is presented a deal. Kill her brother, right here, right now. Prove her loyalty without question or they both die. This is the first major decision the players are able to make now. If she pulls the trigger, or not. The boss isn't stupid. The gun handed to the sister isn't loaded. It's simply a test. If both siblings are to be shot, or just the one. The ending is largely the same.
Bleeding out on the ground, the sister, and newly revived party members witness the corpse of the brother forcibly raised from the dead to answer questions. The location of the item in the box. If his sister knew he stole it. Is he still loyal. - my ruling of Speak with Dead is they don't have to answer, but if they do, the answer must not be a lie. He will be brought back, but his answers will determine later interactions. Now, the sister. Every player in the game will have moments in the spotlight. I decided to start with her, as it made most sense, and given the twins background, they will be key members to the party next chapter. She still has the empty gun. If she knows its empty or not will change a few small details. She too is a warlock, and this is the signing of her pact with the Hexblade.
Her interpretation of this place is her own to make. She awakes in a void, and although she is still herself here, she is consumed by nothingness. No pain, no sound, no feeling at all. Not even a heartbeat. Here she meets an entity. A "shadow" that mimics her every movement. It even shifts slightly, becoming a silhouette of herself. When she touches it, it is an overwhelming sense of feeling. Fireworks going off at the tip of her fingertips. The warmth of her blood becoming as hot as the sun, but somehow feels comforting compared to the nothingness shes felt for all this time. Outside seconds have past. Here, it could have been years, or seconds. Impossible to tell. But with this touch she hears a voice reach out to her. "Squeeze". She's back in the room, vision blurry as her life fades. Gun raised, aimed at her boss, who doesn't fear an empty gun. Only, it's no longer empty. This is her new pact weapon. It functions as a gun, but she can choose to shoot normal bullets or eldritch blast from it.
Their escape comes soon after. The hideout is attacked by a Sand Stalker - a purple-worm like creature. Other captives save them, and the campaigns first chapter begins here. They are in the middle of the desert, very limited supplies, uncertain where exactly they are. Few npc trying to get to the capital city to find help. The twins, bounty hunter, and other npc know that everyone who bares the mark of the clan will have bounties out on them, to be returned to their owners. The world in now open to them, as they learn how to free themselves of this debt one way or another.
The slave contract is as good as a deal with a devil. Legally binding, and magical in nature. Each master / house has its own distinct mark to show ownership. Once the debt is paid off, the mark will fade on its own. Their starting debt is 10k gp each. It is meant to be ridiculous. The bounty on a slave is always 10% of their total debt. So, 1k gp to return them if they job is put out, and it will be. If captured the reward money is added to the debt they owe, making it 11k gp now. The system is designed to be nearly impossible to be free.
In the main city there are several patrons willing to help them for one reason or another. Old contacts of the twins and bounty hunter in the party are expected to be called upon. There's multiple escapes from the city I have ready, and I am looking forward to what they come up with. I don't expect them to ever pay off their debt. The main story will later being them back here, when they're ready to take on the challenges of the city in full, and save the world. Standard stuff.
This is a new attempt at an intro. Throwing them into the fire with a clear goal. A long "cinematic" before giving them full control. They all know the stakes, and are in a position of "our chances are better together" apposed from the classic meeting in the tavern and dealing with rats.
Every character has elements from their backstory that matter here, and will drastically effect the campaign going forward. They had all known the basics of the intro, and details where they started prior to making characters. Changes were made to my plans based on their characters, incorporating them into it one way or another. There were always slavers, and they were always going to die. The twins backstories are the only ones from this region and they provided me a lot to work with, and ability to tie them into the scenario.
The boss killing and betraying the twins is a detail I think is very important. The other characters may see them as enemies, so by doing it this way they have common enemies and no secrets about it. Only the sister is not in debt, giving her a few special privilege's while in the city. All the players know each other, have played in other games together, and know what's expected. I am trying to make the party's coming together seem natural by immediately giving them a common problem and no one else to turn to. [BG3 SPOILERS] as the mindflayer parasites provided the main cast common problems, and Out of the Abyss first chapter being major influences. There are many other politics involved also, some sub plots that will come up later that tie to this, and a lot of world lore involved giving insight to why this region functions like this.

Hello everyone.
I created this topic so we could share our opinions on the biggest human threat : DUFAUX !!!
WARNING : FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT READ GASH BELL 1 YET, THIS TOPIC WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS !!!
As you know, Dufaux possesses an ability called “Answer Talker” that allows him to do pretty much whatever he wants…
1 During the fight against Ropes, he was shown to be able to anticipate any attack his opponents used, and on a way greater scale than Apollo. This only ability is enough to make him a very dangerous human. But this doesn’t stop here.

2 In a flashback of his childhood with the mad scientist, he is described as someone able to find the answers to “some of the greatest questions that plague mankind”, no less….

3 After the first fight against Clear, he appeared out of nowhere, read everyone’s mind and gave them advice that allowed all the nakamas to become monsters in only 10 months. Kanchome went from being one of the weakest crybaby ever to Aizen in only 3 days…

4 Before the final battle, he set up several strategies, I’m refering to Umagon and Sunbeam switching to “Plan J” after the first use of Shin Kuria, to anticipate Clear’s potential moves.

5 80 days before the final battle, he was also able to tell that Clear was “90% healed” and he added that he was worried about an hidden power Clear had. He was not able to read his power level or understand the true nature of Shin Kuria Seunousu, though…

This guy is literally a walking cheat code. And this can be a problem : he has to be nerfed in some way so the plot can progress. He revealed way too many abilities after Zeon’s defeat. Fighting full power, he now really seems almighty. And considering that, as Raiku said in a tweet in 2013, Zeon would end up getting a shin-level spell, how could anyone beat them if they joined forces again ? Could you imagine that ? Full-power Dufaux + Shin-level user adult Zeon is absolute overkill… One thing is sure : this is not going to happen anytime soon… So here are several questions :
- Where is he and how big will his part be, in Gash 2 ?
- Will he ever meet the mad scientist again ?
- Will he and Zeon ever get Baou before Gash probably gets it back ?
- Can Dufaux beat Goku ?
Personally, I believe he has a key role to play. As far as we know, Beliel’s priority is to target the humans from the top 10. Dufaux finished 12^th. Him not being one of the main targets is a HUUUUUUGE mistake… Or maybe he has already found him, after he “captured” ( or worse… ) Zeon ? Impossible for Dufaux not to know what is currently happening in the human world… He must have “sensed” something. So, where is he ?
For the mad scientist, I’m not sure he will meet him… Although I would truly like to know more about that man and the weapons he was trying to create using Dufaux abilities and the results of his studies, he doesn’t really seem central to the current plot. Considering how Dufaux hates him, I’m surprised that he didn’t use his AT to find where he lives, after he and Zeon met each other, to give him the Zigadirasu treatment… Plot convenience, I guess. Dufaux would have been so pissed that he would have unlocked Zigadirasu Shin Zakeruga right from the start of the battle…
Finally, Baou… Somewhere on the net, maybe here, maybe not, I’ve read a theory that Beliel would give BAOU to Zeon and use his anger in order to make it evil again without having to sacrifice his own life. I like that theory because it would give Zeon a chance to prove his father wrong once and for all. Also, it would be a perfect opportunity for him and Dufaux to show their growths. No more hatred, no more sad power… These two deserve a redemption arc, to be honest.
What do you guys think ?
PS : English is not my mother tongue. Don’t hesitate to tell me if something isn’t clear 😊
https://preview.redd.it/tzhtxq48no0d1.png?width=600&format=png&auto=webp&s=2652f00803e0404429253a72e6aae4c0a8d4cd62
https://preview.redd.it/oc7u1r48no0d1.png?width=573&format=png&auto=webp&s=af206595c587d3fba2aca033c8322d1a4546b64a
https://preview.redd.it/v9kq9t48no0d1.png?width=608&format=png&auto=webp&s=7d96b6428e79361aa8b0ded47c71aa56feb52863
Raiku's tweet about Zeon : 雷句誠 sur X : "@kota5000 ジガディラスは強い。でも、ファウード戦で出たあのウルはまだシンに負ける。そう、詳しくは言えないが、ゼオンもいつかシンに匹敵する術を身につけるのだよ。" / X (twitter.com)

A few weeks ago, someone posted a link to one of Don’s rants and I went through and commented on each of the points. I can't find that post, but I had copied it over here: https://www.reddit.com/perpetualeducation/comments/1c7k9re/donthedeveloper_on_a_rant_about_how_aspiring/
We had a chat about it. Here’s the video/podcast: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHmqZkC3LqU&lc
Don titled it: There's a MASSIVE Skill Gap Among New Developers
I'll attempt to write a bit about that - (even though we went over many other topics - and I'm having a hard time grouping them)
It’s easy to simplify this into “the market” or “the boot camp” or “the tech stack” or "what's fair" or "the resume" - but I think people are missing the various multidimensional aspects at play. Is it:
Is it all of those things - and more? (Yes). And it's "the student" too." We're all different (cue reading rainbow moment). But it's true. Some of us are slower. Some of us are faster but miss the details. Some of us have a background that alignes neatly with tech. Some of us already know what job we want and why - and other people just want to make a good bet on a stable career. No matter what zone you're in, we still have to face the music - and deal with (trigger alert) - the truth.
The market is real. Companies aren't aggressively hireing random barely capable developers right now (like they have in the past). They're scared and holding on to their money. They also kinda realized they were spending more money on middle management and probably developers too - and are going to need some time to figure out how to make profitable businesses (or how to keep getting more VC funding to burn through).
But if there's a huge gap between your skills/experience and what it takes to do the job you're applying for, none of the other factors matter.
Many people choose a coding boot camp based on superficial factors like the price, the timeline, the website design, and the sales pitch. They often don't consider other important aspects because they simply don't know better. This isn’t unlike any other product or service or school.
Some people pick out a boot camp and learn a bunch of awesome stuff and they go out there and start a new career and for some reason, they don’t come back to Reddit to tell us about it. There are some legit colleges and boot camps and other alternative learning paths out there - that are really great. It's just a fact.
If you read the bootcamp marketing, paid your tuition, went through the steps they lined out, and came out the other end unable to get that job they promised you, well - that’s awkward. Maybe for you, it’s that simple. If you feel like you got a raw deal, I’m sorry. There are some businesses that should be ashamed of themselves - but they won't be. All you can do is warn other people. That’s over now. We can only work with the present.
For people who really want to work in this industry - they'll keep moving forward: at the end of the day, this is the playing field. So, if you want to get off the bench, we’re going to have to design a path to that – and you might need to rethink some of your assumptions.
It could certainly be said that new developers are now expected to know about–and have experience with–a lot more things.
Are the expectations that someone brand new to development is going to be able to get a job unreasonable? Well, does it matter what someone’s opinion about that is? You either want the job - or you don’t. And you need to know how to do the job, or no one will hire you. Do you need to know everything on this huge list to get an entry level position https://roadmap.sh/javascript ? (no) (in fact - close that - and don’t ever look at it again)
When I started (at the age of ~30) (in ~2011), you needed to know HTML, CSS, (Probably some PhotoShop to get your assets), maybe a little PHP (and likely HTTP and more about URLs and request types and forms), FTP and DNS to get your site hosted, and maybe some JavaScript. You might have used jQuery to help out or Knockout.js. And you had to know how to hook up a database and MySQL and probably a CMS or some sort. And maybe your code was a mess or maybe it adhered to some common patterns. But that was life. Not everyone needed to know all those things. Some people would focus more on getting the mockup into the HTML and CSS. Other people might focus on the server and the PHP or Perl or Java. There were all sorts of jobs and some of them were done by people with a formal education in Computer Science studies and other people just figured it out as needed. There was a lot of work to be done. Lots of custom stuff to build and maintain. And it was just normal to learn more incrementally as the years went by. You could totally get a job knowing just HTML and CSS (and you still can BTW). There was still an infinite amount of things you could know. But it seemed to ramp up naturally because we were closer to the grain of The Web.
So, what do people learn now? (Generally) They rush through some HTML and CSS really quick (which actually teaches them more bad habits than good). They rarely learn about DNS or FTP because a tutorial showed them how to type a few random things into a terminal to have their site on a free service and they don’t buy a domain name because there’s a free subdomain. Apparently paying for anything is for suckers and companies that don't give you things for free are evil capitalistic pigs who should be shut down. New devs don’t know much about servers because their text editor is actually running an advanced web application behind the scenes that starts a virtual server and runs all sorts of other things they don’t understand outside of that context - like connecting to version control, opening a terminal pane, SSH, code completion and typeahead, autoimport completion, AI suggestions and other additional layers like typescript and many other linters to tell them where all their errors are. If they couldn't use VSCode - they might be dead in the water. It can feel like you’re just a bag of meat being yelled at by VSCode as you try and solve the errors and remove all the red lines. And we do all of these - to put the training wheels in place.
And I’m not saying that a LAMP stack doesn’t have it’s own level of black-box and mysteries with how Apache handles your HTTP requests and MySQL starts up it’s own server - but we have to be comfortable with some level of abstraction or we’d be writing all ones and zeros at the machine code level.
So, the new developer is manning this huge stack of tools unknowingly, but they do get a lot of benefits. We can spin up a pretty complex web application with a front-end to make requests, a server to talk to a database and other third-party systems and respond back to the client/front-end, and an auth layer to make sure people are properly signing in and only seeing what they need to see. There are abstractions for HTML and CSS and JS that put that template logic and controller logic into a neat little component file (which is great) and that component file is properly registered based on file name conventions and everything gets set up in this larger system of conventions that all happen behind the scenes in the framework architecture. So, as a new developer - you can really ride the framework and know hardly anything about how it works - as long as you know the language to speak to this layer of the abstraction (the API).
These aren't just arbitrary add-ons that people made to complicate things. They solve real-world problems. The new dev won't really understand what they are - but I'm not saying we should just get rid of them. They allow us to move faster and to build interfaces and business logic without having to write tons of behind the scenes repeated structural code by hand. And with those training wheels, we have more time on our hands. We can also add in the chance to further define our programs with safety measures and plan automated testing routines, and built-in documentation of our code base. We can keep adding layers and layers or pull in more and more third-party tools. It’s pretty amazing. But what people end up learning is how to maintain that configuration - and there’s only so much time - and so, they end up learning 10% of all the things you used to need/want to know. And some jobs have a path for that. But there's likely going to be a long-term cost for you.
Arguably - it doesn’t matter how much “code” you know - and making things is what matters. And that’s true. That’s what matters to the business that pays you. And to the school that wants you to feel good about your progress. But I think you should protect your learning journey. It’s for you. It’s going to be what you carry on throughout the years and it’s a seed.
Getting proficient with a popular tech stack - when the market is booming proved to be a great decision for boot camps and their students. And I'd bet that the majority of people mean well.
But when it's not booming, students are in it for the wrong reasons, schools have tightened up and moved online, the market has plenty of devs who already have 5+ years working with that framework/stack -- then all of the sudden - the surface-level fake-it-till-you-make-it path (as much as I respect that) doesn't work as well. You're going to have to put in some more energy.
When it's obvious that you can't build an HTML page with semantic markup, that's accessible, and has a universally pleasurable experience, and you can't write CSS without a UI framework or do anything custom, it's obvious. You should be aware of that gap. When you've never owned a domain name or setup a deployment pipeline, you should be aware of that gap. When your personal website looks like your boot camp gave it to you, you should be aware of how that looks. When you can't take a server-side scripting language like Python or Go or PHP and build out a little personal website framework - you should be aware of that gap. When you can't plan a project and don't have experience with diagrams and explaining things, you need to be aware of that gap. When you've never written about your process or created any case-studies to explain your projects, you should be aware of that gap. When you're only proof of work is the class assignments, you should be aware of that gap. When your github history goes dead after the last day of class, you should be aware that we'll see that. When you claim to no nothing about visual design and that's for someone else on the team - you should be aware of that gap. If you refuse to turn on your camera and just want to be left alone, you should be aware of that huge gap. If you can't build a little prototype app without React, they you probably don't JavaScript, and you should be aware of that gap. And there will ALWAYS be a gap. There's always more to learn. So - it's an important skill to know what to learn and why - and when. You can't learn everything. And if you're having a hard time finding work right now, then get clear on your goal. Stop applying for general "Software engineer" jobs you aren't ready for. Narrow your scope. Figure out a job that you think you can do confidently. Get clear on how big your gap is and what you need to learn to get centered and confident with your toolset. Ideally, it's fun. Try and ignore all the doom and gloom and focus on your own personal goal.
It's not just the market. Too many people are applying for jobs they aren't anywhere near qualified to do. And it probably doesn't feel good. But luckily - you can learn the things and get back on track.

In 2019 I was working for a trucking company based out of Houston Texas. To keep it brief... The company was owned by a big time Pastor out of Houston. He hired a man who had multiple million dollar contracts, but he didn't have the trucks or the drivers to fill those contracts. The contract holder was also leasing a truck/trailer at the time, but pretending as though it was his own.
Company owner =FR
Truck owner=WC
Middle man=KT
KT is a long time conman/criminal out of the south. He was in and out of jail for several years when he decided to start truck driving. After a while however he needed more money. He wanted to run his own loads, but needed a truck/trailer. That's when he partnered with WC. WC owns multiple tractor trailer setups and he leases them to many individuals all over the country. He met KT and without prying too much into his past, he leased him a tractor trailer. WC would make a percentage of every load which kept him happy for around 8 months. That's around the time KT met FR at a party or some type of event. He was given an email for contact and in early 2019 he sent his first email to FR's company asking to become a partner, or to make a percentage for every contract he gave to FR, considering he didn't have the trucks or drivers to perform all the contracts he had. FR with dollar signs in his eyes agreed and made him a partner by April 2019.
The contract between them was officially made by FR's company Lawyer and signed in late September 2019. KT started using all of FR's company details, emails, business logos in all of his interactions from then on out. He had a problem however. He was still needing to make money to pay for his contract with WC. He would assign loads to WC's truck and find drivers through craigslist. After a few weeks to a few months of non payment however, all drivers would abandon the truck and he would have to find a new driver. Eventually that became me in October 2019.
I posted a craigslist ad looking for Repower work and KT's secretary emailed me the details. I received a phone call the next morning and I was off from Denver to pick up a loaded tractor trailer sitting in the Cheyenne WY Regional Airport parking lot. I was told the driver had a family emergency and the load was already late so I would be paid a handsome amount to deliver asap. I spent 9 days in the truck delivering 3 loads from Washington state, Boise Idaho, to Salt Lake City and then eventually going down to Gallup New Mexico to hit the I40 to drive the truck back to Houston, where I was told I would meet KT, get paid and be on a paid flight back to Denver. I was eager to get home.
On October 29th 2019 I was asleep in the back of the truck at the Pilot Travel Center in Gallup, New Mexico when I was awoken by a pounding on the passenger door. I was dressed in multiple layers as the truck had run out of fuel the day before. The Comdata Cards weren't working to put fuel in, and I was told it would be solved the following day. It was around 8 degrees outside. I was in a tshirt with my hoodie laying on me, and a pair of sweatpants under my blue jeans to keep warm. When I finally crawled to the front of the truck to open the door I was greeted by a Glock pointing at my head and told to slowly exit the truck keeping my hands up. I did as the Trooper commanded. After a brief search of the truck for damage (I had the key fob), and after showing the Bill of Ladings printed with my name and signature on them I was informed I was receiving a Felony for Possession of a Stolen Vehicle. After being "Frozen Out" to admit fault (I was ordered to stand in front of the Troopers cruiser for 2 hours in 8 degrees as he was trying to get me to admit to stealing the vehicle) I was then cuffed and brought back to the sub station for further questioning and filing. I was told everything from how stupid I was for taking the job after telling my side of the story, all the way to how I should've made my father (a 33 year retired officer) run the plate on the truck to check if it was reported stolen before getting in. Which doesn't make sense, when the truck was reported stolen THAT NIGHT.
WC was getting worried about his equipment not being insured by him, but by FR's company. He demanded his truck back on October 27th and was told by KT and FR they had NO KNOWLEDGE of any such truck. He reported it stolen the afternoon of the 29th and it was tracked by on star to my location where I was arrested. After being interrogated at the sub station and sitting handcuffed to a bench in a cell for 2 hours while the Trooper wrote his report (which just spoke about how he received a call, went directly to me, arrested me and had me in custody now.) I was then transported to McKinley Country Correctional Facility where I spent a hellish 42 hours locked in with 33 other inmates. The toilet system would backup and flood the cell soaking everyone laying on our mats with feces and urine. The food provided was absolute garbage not fit for any living person. A new inmate stole cuffs off an officer and showed everyone after a couple hours and threatened people. We also had an inmate come down from the pods (a convicted murderer there for another trial) after threatening to kill a known Ped upstairs. He was found strangling him and until they figured things out he was transported down to us. He laid down right behind me. I couldn't eat the food so I gave it to him having tupperware. He actually gave me my only phone call using his key code for the phone in the cell. My Dad told me they were bailing me out very shortly.
My bailbondsman arrived at 11pm Halloween night after taking his kids to get candy. I was taken to a motel room down the street. We stopped for my first real meal... taco bell. I was just happy to be out of there, but I ended up throwing up several time in my room and I couldn't sleep for a few days.
-Fast forward to December. My case was dismissed in pretrial.
-Fast forward to May 2020 the lawyer who took my case in Gallup in December to help me sue the State Troopers dropped me. You can see his bill boards EVERYWHERE in Gallup, NM.
-I found a new lawyer in Denver who believed me and started filing.
-We received correspondence from FR's lawyer saying he never met KT, has no knowledge of WC or the truck in question and to leave him alone.
-2 years later (FR is still saying he never knew anyone) in August 2022 we received partial discovery. FR's email. He was ordered to type in KT's name in the history bar and over 200 emails popped up. Everything from their contract created by FR's lawyer to emails such as...
"KT! You're a very very smart man. Now let's make you a VERY VERY RICH MAN!"
-Early 2023 WC settles with us and says he would be a witness for me in trial. The State Trooper received Qualified Immunity. KT still hasn't been found. FR offers a 10k settlement. We decide to go to trial.
-late 2023 we have another meeting in Houston, Tx to discuss a settlement at the court house. I am met by FR himself who was not supposed to be there. He's limping on a cane. Never made an apology. They up their settlement to 100k. I'm still wanting to go to trial, but the mediator who is the 2nd judge at the courthouse all but tells me I won't win a GD thing if I go, because of the "Good ole' boy" system in Houston. He said no matter how I feel about what happened, I'm a white veteran truck driver who got arrested... Nobody gives a sh*t and they are going to see to that.
-After 6 hours and being literally counted down by the mediator from 10 to 0 I accepted the offer.
-I started making Reno911 style Bodycam footage to help me get over things mentally. Some have received over a million views. I now live in Long Beach California.
-KT was and still has never been found. FR is still a pastor at a major church in Houston. I don't know anything about WC. The state trooper is in the news almost every other week for arresting DUI drivers in Gallup.
AMA

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

I thought it would be a fun idea to write out my headcanons for the other, unmentioned settlements/cities in the New California Republic. As a SoCal native, I thought it would also be fun seeing how some notable cities in the region would look in the fallout universe. I’ve only included places in Southern California because I honestly don’t have too much detailed knowledge about central/northern CA cities.
I tried fitting it in with the lore at the time of New Vegas in 2281, but there might be a few mistakes here and there.

San Diego Area

-Camp Pendleton: Controlled by one of the largest Raider groups of SoCal, cutting off entry to the San Diego area from the 5 Freeway. Uses restored Vertiberds, Power Armor, and APCs left over by the Marines after the war. Because of this, they are an extremely valuable target for the Brotherhood of Steel, though they have not launched a full-scale attack due to fears of high casualties. This, along with manpower shortages in the region due to the the situation in the Mojave, has prevented the NCR from conducting operations as well. Many in the San Diego area have discussed creating a temporary alliance between Settlers/NCR, the BOS, and the Temecula Super Mutants, though the feasibility of that seems a bit low.
-Escondido: Settlement located along the former 15 freeway and acts as a trade settlement on the way to San Diego. Population: 400. Facing raider attacks from nearby Camp Pendleton and feeling like they’ve been failed by the NCR, some local leaders have considered asking the Temecula Super Mutants to assist in a joint assault on the camp. Population: 500.
-San Diego: Though one of the founding states of the New California Republic, San Diego, now known as Dayglow, is severely underfunded and underdefended compared to other States. Some say this is because of its distance from the capital, others says its because of continued discriminiation towards Ghouls and Super Mutants who helped found the settlement. Despite this, it still operates as a thriving scrap hub and exports many of the materials used by NCR soldiers, vehicles, and machinery. Many smaller settlements still exist in areas farther from downtown, the most major of which include El Cajon, Chula Vista, and Miramar. The latter is the main NCR facility in the area, and has been requesting additional support from Shady Sands to help defeat the Camp Pendleton Raiders. Though having the threat of Raiders in the northwest as well as threats of increased radiation exposure from the Glow in the northeast, many of these settlements are some of the most advanced in the NCR due to the pre-war governance and technology maintained by the descendants of Vault 72. Located near Balboa Park, Vault 72 is the only known vault in the area. Though initially an experiment vault, like Vault 81 in the Commonwealth, its operations were cut short, in this case after a mutiny against the scientists and Overseer by the inhabitants, many of whom were Ex-military due to the Vault’s close distance to the San Diego Navy Yards. For the next century and a half, Vault 72 acted as a control vault. Eventually, its systems started to fail, and many of its inhabitants exited the vault in search of new settlements, bringing the technology and infrastructure found in the vaults with them. As the New California Republic expands, there have been rumors among NCR soldiers about restoring some of the abandoned Navy ships in the former San Diego harbor, though nothing has been completely confirmed. The Brotherhood of Steel also seeks to acquire former military technology in the area, but has been unable to do so.

Inland Empire

-Riverside: Home to “Rubidoux,” a mid-sized NCR town with a population of about 1,000. Located on the base of Mt. Rubidoux. The Mission Inn, located in the former downtown, is now utilized as an NCR armory and base. Possible plans to rebuild more of downtown have been discussed by local leaders, but not implemented. Vault 54 is located near Rubidoux on the base of Box Springs Mountain. It is a rare control vault with around 800 living citizens, and has been frequently trading with the nearby Rubidoux settlement since its opening in around 2245.
-San Bernardino: Took the most nuclear strikes out of all cities in SoCal’s Inland Empire during the Great War. Due to this, Feral Ghoul encounters are common in the area, though their population has been dwindling in recent years due to Rubidoux settlers and NCR forces slowly clearing up the area, mainly to help caravans from the area safely travel the 215 freeway to reach high desert settlements.
-Temecula: Reclaimed by former Master Super Mutants into a small settlement, population of 50. Do not mind caravans using the former 15 freeway that goes through the city to reach the San Diego area.
-Hemet: Thriving farm town. Decently isolated from the SoCal sprawl, Hemet is relatively sleepy and peaceful. Supplies a decent amount of crops to the IE region. Nothing really interesting about it besides that. Population: 300.

Desert Regions

-Idyllwild: Used as a training ground for NCR soldiers due to its isolation in the mountains.
-Palm Springs: Run by the remnants of the Agua-Caliente, Cabazon, and Morongo Native American Tribes. Due to its strategic prominence, being south of the Mojave and west of Arizona, as well as its proximity to the Idyllwild training grounds and routes to Shady Sands, it has become popular with many NCR higher-ups, many of whom own second homes in the town. Population: 1,000. Vault 93: Located in the foothills of the San Jacinto Mountains. Experimental vault studying the effects of celebrity influence. A dozen celebrities were selected among the 900 civilians who entered the vault, where factions aligning with each of them divided up the leadership inside. No holotapes have been found showing what happened next, though it is to assume that whatever played out led to Vault 93 being opened and vacated. Though considered by the NCR to be repurposed, it sits abandoned, now silently overlooking the Sonoran wastes.

Orange County

-Huntington Beach: Inhabited by the descendants of the Children of the Cathedral, who founded a settlement in what was Huntington Beach after the destruction of the Cathedral in Long Beach and the end of the Unity project in 2162. Though they tend to keep to themselves, there are still some devout Unity believers who kidnap caravans travelling along the former 405 freeway in order to adopt them into the cult and keep the population afloat (They don’t have any FEV to make Super Mutants). Population: 100.
-Irvine: Largely an NCR base centered around the former John Wayne Airport, though there are a decent amount of civilians who have set up shop to cater to the large soldier population. The 452nd Battalion is stationed at the airport, though their numbers have dwindled due to transfers to the Mojave. This has made them unable to respond to the Camp Pendleton Raiders. Population (including soldiers): 2,000.
-San Clemente: A “Ghoul only” settlement ran by wealthy pre-war Ghouls who maintain the area. Despite the exclusivity, it has maintained a population of over 1,000 mainly by bringing in other Ghouls from Orange County and the surrounding area. Mainly keeps to themselves though they accept caravans for trade, though less have been showing up due to the threat of the Camp Pendelton Raiders.