Hi there, I've being trying to find information on possible configurations while we wait for our Sienna to arrive.
We have a rear-facing seat, a front-facing seat and a 70lbs Golden Retriever.
I was thinking of maximizing the cargo space by folding the third row and putting everyone on the second row.
In your experience, would two car seats and a dog fit all in the 2nd row?
Thanks!

In case you need to know, my dad isn't really part of my life, and I live in a small house with my mom and two dogs. My mom told me she'd gotten a donor fetus injected into her months after the fact. I felt betrayed because she lied to me about it earlier and didn't seem to care how I felt. I'm worried that with this kid it will be loud and annoying and also I will lose all of my freedom and can't go anywhere or do anything. Anyone who's gone through something similar who can help me feel better about it (Specifically looking for you if u were an only child until some point in ur teen years but if it's not exactly like that I'll still accept the advice). I guess I'll rant about my mom now idk: She treats me terribly. She gaslights me and calls me a psycho. She randomly yells at me and slanders me to my other relatives. Whenever I try to have meaningful conversations with her, she tells me she doesn't care and to "get out of (her) face". She's been threatening to give away the dog I love so she can have more room for HER baby. I mostly hate her. Needed to vent.
Anyway, if anyone could tell me how to make having a baby sister more bareable, and what it'll be like, and, idk, comfort me or smthn that would be nice.

Hi guys! I was inspired by the posts and the legit advices I read here, so I thought I should also share my story.
I got pregnant at 17 (now I'm 34) and my ex was 19 that time. I was about to turn 18 when I told my family and kahit almost prepared na lahat for my 18th bday, I chose to not have a big party and asked mom if I can just use the money for my birth. We were both students by then, he took Accountancy and I took Tourism. Since the term just started and I just enrolled, mom asked me to just finish the term. Yet, ex needs to find work ASAP because that's the right thing to do.
Fast forward, as an 18 yo pregnant teenager, of course it was high risk. Got admitted to a private hospital and mom took care of all the bills. Ex's salary is only enough to cover for my daily needs (cravings, vits, baby things, etc). Don't get me wrong, I am not the maluho at maselan type of preggy. He continued with work and I took care of my baby.
Fast fast forward. I live in QC and he's from Pque. It's literally north to south travel and he once asked if we can schedule staying home for a week then south (though he works in Q.Ave) palit palit kumbaga. His father gave him a car though, so I agreed kasi it's not much of a hassle for the baby naman since may car. That was the setup. Maybe he's just homesick and wants to be with his family kahit sya mahirapan everyday papasok. The first few weeks went fine until one day, I found out he's cheating. Mind you, not only 1 sidechick, but 3.
This was way back keypad phone days and I was bothered by the series of text msgs na naririnig ko sa phone nya. No passcodes, everything manual. He's taking a bath then, and I felt the urge na pakialaman yung phone. I don't normally do that, but it felt like GO GIRL YOU GOTTA CHECK IT TODAY. Then lo and behold, 1 girl was telling him she cooked their lunch. The other one was asking, sabay ba sila papasok. The other one is nagtatampo kasi di narereplyan. I felt betrayed of course, but remained calm (i'm proud cos when this happened I am under PPD). It wasn't easy. I just told him, "Bilisan mo na maligo at hinihintay ka ng 3 babae mo!", then never said anything about it.
I need to have a job so I can break up with him. I have my family to help me start again and I am positive I don't need his help. So I plotted the plan, that's to apply somewhere in Makati. Because of the cold shoulder, he then finally realized what I'm doing and became aggressive. For some reason, parang gusto nya ibalik ang dati, but for me it's a never. I believe in HE DID IT ONCE, HE'LL DO IT AGAIN type. I managed to get a job and escaped from the hell hole.
This is getting longer so here are the highlights: 1. When mom asked to meet his mom about the pregnancy, Tita said "So anong gagawin natin dyan?, which made my mom angry. She's insinuating that we should get the baby aborted. She even said "Sinira mo naman buhay ng anak ko.", like he's the girl in our relationship and I don't have a future waiting. Hence, my mom don't like his family.

1. I was battered when he found out I had a bf at work (technically we broke up from the day he cheated). I had to have sx with him para lang makaalis ng bahay every day. With that, I got pregnant with my 2nd child. This was technically, RPE, but I don't want to see it that way cos my baby was a blessing.
   
2. When we separated, he took my eldest and told me "BUHAYIN MO MAG ISA ANAK MO, AKIN TONG ISA". This means maghahati kami sa mga bata at wala ng pakialamanan. He even shoved to my face na di ko kaya bumuhay ng bata dahil wala ako matinong work.
   
3. I borrowed my eldest on my bday and never talked to them again. Why? Go, sue me. I am the mom. From then on, I took care of everything.
   

2024, my kids are now 15 and 13 years old. They're now at the age kung san they want to know what really happened. Growing up, I never told them the story, never even brainwashed them against their dad, I am not raised like that. I allowed his absence to tell the truth. My 13yo did a research, found her tita's and tito's in Facebook, asked me if she can message them. I said go ahead, but never ask anything from them. While my 15yo just wants to move forward with her life. This is becoming an issue with my kids kasi di sila magkasundo kung tatahimik ba or magpapakilala.
In all honesty, I want to see my ex again. I wanted to show him where I'm at, kung pano ko pinalaki mga anak ko ng wala sya, how beautiful and well mannered they are. And of course, I want to see how they will react. I am now working at a BPO for 6yrs, also owns a clothing business. Di pa rin ako mayaman, but I managed to achieve everything over the yrs as a single mom. Ito na yung sinabihan nya dati na DI MO MABUBUHAY MGA ANAK MO. I wanna shove this to his face.
I did my research too, found out he's in UK. Living a life he don't deserve. He abandoned my kids. He ignored me once when I asked help cos my bunso had dengue. Well, here's where I need the advice.

1. Should I keep silent and let things be? Pigilan yung bunso ko na hagilapin sya?
2. Do something and file a case for child support at kunin kung ano ang dapat matagal ng nabigay sa mga bata?

My 15yo wants peace, my 13yo wants justice. What should I do? Where to start?

Hi guys! I was inspired by the posts and the legit advices I read here, so I thought I should also share my story.
I got pregnant at 17 (now I'm 34) and my ex was 19 that time. I was about to turn 18 when I told my family and kahit almost prepared na lahat for my 18th bday, I chose to not have a big party and asked mom if I can just use the money for my birth. We were both students by then, he took Accountancy and I took Tourism. Since the term just started and I just enrolled, mom asked me to just finish the term. Yet, ex needs to find work ASAP because that's the right thing to do.
Fast forward, as an 18 yo pregnant teenager, of course it was high risk. Got admitted to a private hospital and mom took care of all the bills. Ex's salary is only enough to cover for my daily needs (cravings, vits, baby things, etc). Don't get me wrong, I am not the maluho at maselan type of preggy. He continued with work and I took care of my baby.
Fast fast forward. I live in QC and he's from Pque. It's literally north to south travel and he once asked if we can schedule staying home for a week then south (though he works in Q.Ave) palit palit kumbaga. His father gave him a car though, so I agreed kasi it's not much of a hassle for the baby naman since may car. That was the setup. Maybe he's just homesick and wants to be with his family kahit sya mahirapan everyday papasok. The first few weeks went fine until one day, I found out he's cheating. Mind you, not only 1 sidechick, but 3.
This was way back keypad phone days and I was bothered by the series of text msgs na naririnig ko sa phone nya. No passcodes, everything manual. He's taking a bath then, and I felt the urge na pakialaman yung phone. I don't normally do that, but it felt like GO GIRL YOU GOTTA CHECK IT TODAY. Then lo and behold, 1 girl was telling him she cooked their lunch. The other one was asking, sabay ba sila papasok. The other one is nagtatampo kasi di narereplyan. I felt betrayed of course, but remained calm (i'm proud cos when this happened I am under PPD). It wasn't easy. I just told him, "Bilisan mo na maligo at hinihintay ka ng 3 babae mo!", then never said anything about it.
I need to have a job so I can break up with him. I have my family to help me start again and I am positive I don't need his help. So I plotted the plan, that's to apply somewhere in Makati. Because of the cold shoulder, he then finally realized what I'm doing and became aggressive. For some reason, parang gusto nya ibalik ang dati, but for me it's a never. I believe in HE DID IT ONCE, HE'LL DO IT AGAIN type. I managed to get a job and escaped from the hell hole.
This is getting longer so here are the highlights: 1. When mom asked to meet his mom about the pregnancy, Tita said "So anong gagawin natin dyan?, which made my mom angry. She's insinuating that we should get the baby aborted. She even said "Sinira mo naman buhay ng anak ko.", like he's the girl in our relationship and I don't have a future waiting. Hence, my mom don't like his family.

1. I was battered when he found out I had a bf at work (technically we broke up from the day he cheated). I had to have sx with him para lang makaalis ng bahay every day. With that, I got pregnant with my 2nd child. This was technically, RPE, but I don't want to see it that way cos my baby was a blessing.
   
2. When we separated, he took my eldest and told me "BUHAYIN MO MAG ISA ANAK MO, AKIN TONG ISA". This means maghahati kami sa mga bata at wala ng pakialamanan. He even shoved to my face na di ko kaya bumuhay ng bata dahil wala ako matinong work.
   
3. I borrowed my eldest on my bday and never talked to them again. Why? Go, sue me. I am the mom. From then on, I took care of everything.
   

2024, my kids are now 15 and 13 years old. They're now at the age kung san they want to know what really happened. Growing up, I never told them the story, never even brainwashed them against their dad, I am not raised like that. I allowed his absence to tell the truth. My 13yo did a research, found her tita's and tito's in Facebook, asked me if she can message them. I said go ahead, but never ask anything from them. While my 15yo just wants to move forward with her life. This is becoming an issue with my kids kasi di sila magkasundo kung tatahimik ba or magpapakilala.
In all honesty, I want to see my ex again. I wanted to show him where I'm at, kung pano ko pinalaki mga anak ko ng wala sya, how beautiful and well mannered they are. And of course, I want to see how they will react. I am now working at a BPO for 6yrs, also owns a clothing business. Di pa rin ako mayaman, but I managed to achieve everything over the yrs as a single mom. Ito na yung sinabihan nya dati na DI MO MABUBUHAY MGA ANAK MO. I wanna shove this to his face.
I did my research too, found out he's in UK. Living a life he don't deserve. He abandoned my kids. He ignored me once when I asked help cos my bunso had dengue. Well, here's where I need the advice.

1. Should I keep silent and let things be? Pigilan yung bunso ko na hagilapin sya?
2. Do something and file a case for child support at kunin kung ano ang dapat matagal ng nabigay sa mga bata?

My 15yo wants peace, my 13yo wants justice. What should I do? Where to start?

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

Platform(s): Web browser
Genre: 2D Exploration with a focus on 2D Point and Click Puzzle (with a tone of horror)
Estimated year of release: 2012-2019
Graphics/art style: Dark and mysterious. Art style wasn't pixelated. It was fairly detailed to where I could clearly make out the character's facial expression and approximate age.
Notable characters: You control a teenage girl with orange hair wearing a white robe with modern shoes (she has a nonplussed look on her face). She was the only character featured in the demo.
Notable gameplay mechanics: Story is you are taking part in a type of trial imposed on you by your religious community (most likely a cult). If you can't complete it, its implied you'll die.
During gameplay, you are confined to a small room with a door (elevator maybe) leading up, a puzzle in the center, and a dooelevator leading down to the next level. When near the puzzle, you would interact with it and the screen would change to zoom in on it; from there, you used the mouse. I believe the puzzles were a type of sliding puzzle, where there were crisscrossing tracks (think train tracks, but indented) you could move the circular pieces with a symbol on them along the tracks and match them up with other symbols. I feel like I'm missing a crucial detail with the mechanics as the puzzles could be fairly difficult. The puzzles had a gold hue to them.
On the ground, you can find documents talking about various things, like letters of support addressed to previous trial takers and notes from trial takers (it's implied that the trial might be rigged to silence some people). There would be collectables on the ground and laying on top of the puzzles that you can just click to collect (it hints that these can lead to an escape from the cult). One of the collectibles you'd often find was red, maybe a gem or feather?
At one point, one of the puzzles has a piece of paper on it saying the puzzle is broken and you can go to the next floor. If you tear off the paper, it reveals the puzzle can be completed and doing this can aid you in escaping the cult.
Other details:
The game was a free demo for a full game that was either already out or would be out soon (I can't remember where it was going to be sold though). I believe I played the demo on a game site like Newgrounds, Kongregate, etc, though I tried looking on Newgrounds and couldn't find it.

Mars, is associated with action, energy, and assertiveness, is a planet that, contrary to some beliefs, is not inherently "bad." Its placement in astrocartography can be a powerful catalyst for positive change. Understanding Mars in different house positions, especially in a relocated chart, and considering its natal aspects, can be key in harnessing its dynamic energy for specific life goals.
Mars Lines in Astrocartography: Unleashing Dynamic Energy
Mars lines in astrocartography offer unique opportunities:

• Initiating Bold Ventures: Mars’s fiery energy is excellent for kickstarting new projects and taking decisive action.
• Energizing Physical Activity: These lines are ideal for engaging in physical pursuits, enhancing athletic performance, and boosting overall vitality.
• Cultivating Assertiveness: Under a Mars line, you might find an increased capacity for assertiveness, helping you to advocate for yourself more confidently.

Optimal Houses for Mars in a Relocated Chart
1st House (Self-Assertiveness and Vitality):

• Mars in the 1st house enhances self-confidence, assertiveness, and physical energy. It's perfect for personal transformation and taking initiative in your own life.

6th House (Daily Work and Health):

• Here, Mars boosts work ethic, productivity, and motivation in daily routines. It's beneficial for developing a disciplined approach to health and work.

7th House (Partnerships and Interpersonal Dynamics):

• Mars in the 7th house can energize personal and business relationships. It brings a direct, upfront approach to dealing with others, though it may also heighten conflicts.

8th House (Transformation and Shared Resources):

• This is a powerful placement for Mars, emphasizing personal transformation, dealing with shared resources, and navigating deep, intense experiences. It can bring a fearless approach to facing life's deeper and more complex aspects.

10th House (Career and Public Life):

• In the 10th house, Mars can significantly enhance career ambitions, encouraging leadership and entrepreneurial efforts. It's ideal for professions requiring assertiveness and drive.

Harnessing Mars’ Energy Wisely

• Balancing Assertiveness: It’s crucial to balance Mars’s assertiveness with tact to avoid unnecessary conflicts.
• Setting and Pursuing Goals: Mars lines are excellent for clear goal-setting and relentless pursuit of these objectives.
• Channeling Physical Energy: Engaging in sports or physical activities can be a healthy outlet for Mars’s vigorous energy.

Importance of Natal Aspects

• Mars’s effects vary based on its aspects in your natal chart. Benefic aspects can make its energy more manageable, while challenging aspects might require caution to avoid impulsiveness.

Redefining Mars’s Role
Mars is not just about aggression or conflict. It symbolizes the courage to act, the drive to pursue passions, and the strength to defend what matters. It’s a planet that encourages action and determination.
Conclusion
Mars lines in astrocartography can be transformative, offering energy, assertiveness, and the drive needed to make significant life changes. Whether boosting your career, empowering personal relationships, or navigating transformative experiences, Mars provides the dynamism to achieve your goals. By understanding Mars in your astrocartography and relocated chart, especially in relation to your natal aspects, you can tap into a wellspring of power and action, using Mars not as a source of conflict but as a force for positive and assertive change.

26 Yr old man - kinda feminine (sometimes) Proud dog dad and rather introverted (i prefer to chill indoors and watch tv or movies but can also enjoy a night out too)
Brit 🇬🇧 now living in Canada🇨🇦
My dog will love you, you WILL get covered in fur and have him jumping all over you - he may knock you over trying to lick your face
I work a lot and i am career driven and am only really free weekends - i will carve out time for people i care about or can see a future with Because of work it can mean there are times when im slow to reply (as in 3-5 business days 😂)
I love horror movies
don’t judge me but I dont drive I can be super shy as a heads up but i am outgoing when comfortable
Im 5’10 and a fat guy - a fact not a personal attack on myself!
I am open to LTR but need to build up to that first and i can do/have done before a LDR but just be aware when im working i cant be at my phone otherwise i reply hella fast!
If youve reached this far why not message me and let me know which country is on your bucket list to visit ☺️
I am a side/bottom for compatibility, i don’t want hookups and dont send nudes.
I also do love to videochat and voice chat over endless messages once we are both comfortable that is 😃

CANCER ZODIAC TAROT READING - UNEXPECTED INCOME MAY 2024

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJ5mIkLhCyY
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Here are some questions to assist with Step Two- Characterization:
Certainly! Here's a series of questions to aid writers in the characterization step of their story:

1. Character Basics:

• Who are the main characters in your story, and what are their names, ages, and backgrounds?
  
• What are the essential traits that define each character's personality?
  

1. Motivations and Goals:

• What drives each character? What are their primary motivations and goals?
  
• How do these motivations align or conflict with the central theme or conflict of the story?
  

1. Backstories and Histories:

• What significant events have shaped each character's past?
  
• How do these past experiences influence their current perspectives, fears, and desires?
  

1. Strengths and Weaknesses:

• What are the strengths or special abilities of each character?
  
• Do the characters have vulnerabilities or weaknesses that they must confront?
  

1. Internal Conflicts:

• What internal conflicts do your characters grapple with?
  
• How do these internal struggles contribute to the overall character development?
  

1. External Conflicts:

• What external conflicts or obstacles do your characters face in the story?
  
• How do these external challenges drive character growth and shape their relationships?
  

1. Relationship Dynamics:

• How do characters interact with each other?
  Are there significant relationships (e.g., friendships, romances, conflicts)?
  
• What dynamics exist within groups of characters, and how do these relationships evolve?
  

1. Character Arcs:

• What transformation or growth do you envision for each character by the end of the story?
  
• How do the characters' arcs contribute to the overarching themes of the narrative?
  

1. Unique Traits or Quirks:

• What unique traits, quirks, or habits distinguish each character?
  
• How do these individual characteristics contribute to the richness of the characterizations?
  

1. Character Relationships with the Setting:

- How do your characters interact with the story's setting or world? - Does the setting play a significant role in shaping characters' identities or influencing their choices? 

1. Symbolic Elements:

- Are there symbolic elements associated with each character? (e.g., objects, colors, motifs) - How do these symbols enhance the depth of your characters and their roles in the story? 

1. Character Desires and Conflicts:

- What do your characters desire most in the world? - How do these desires lead to conflicts with others or within themselves? 

1. Evolution of Relationships:

- How do relationships between characters evolve over the course of the story? - Are there key moments or events that significantly impact these relationships? 

1. Contrasts and Parallels:

- Are there intentional contrasts or parallels between characters? - How do these comparisons contribute to the overall narrative or thematic elements? 

1. Character Dialogue and Voice:

- What distinct voices or speech patterns do your characters have? - How does each character's way of speaking contribute to their individuality? 

1. Cultural or Historical Influences:

- How do cultural or historical influences shape your characters' beliefs, values, or behaviors? - Are there specific cultural or historical elements that contribute to the diversity of your characterizations? 

1. Interests and Hobbies:

- What interests, hobbies, or skills do your characters possess? - How do these additional layers contribute to their overall personalities and interactions? 

1. Character Foils:

- Are there characters who serve as foils to one another? - How does the presence of foils enhance the contrast and complexity of your characterizations? 

1. Reader Empathy:

- How do you ensure readers connect with and empathize with your characters? - Are there specific traits or experiences that make your characters relatable? 

1. Character Consistency:

- How do you maintain consistency in your characters' behaviors and reactions? - Are there character traits or developments that require extra attention to ensure continuity? 

These questions aim to guide writers in developing well-rounded and compelling characters, fostering a deeper understanding of each individual's role within the narrative.

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

I don't even know if that's a thing, I couldn't find much online. This is Savannah, we got her from a rescue 5 weeks ago. She was running the streets of Detroit as a stray. We got her a week after we had to put my sweet Bailee to sleep after complications from lymphoma. Bailee was a pure bred plott hound (at least we've been told by people who know plotts-she was a rescue so we don't know for sure but she had all of the characteristics).
Someone must have thrown scalding water on her or something because she's missing a lot of fur on her left side, there's some scaring and white coarse hair which is indicative of a third degree burn. She's fine though, it doesn't bother her, the only thing that bothers her is the feel of the sunscreen we put on her lol.
Otherwise she has the coloring of a plott, black saddleback, brindle legs and head. She is a tuxedo dog, her chest and feet are white with speckles like a blue tick. She's small, 21 inches high and 32lbs. She's got crazy energy and looks like a grayhound when she runs. But she has that beagle face and that beagle howl. She's incredibly smart and very clingy. She's a super sweet girl.
She hates other dogs but that's probably because she was picked on by bigger dogs when she was homeless.
What does everyone think?

To be honest I'm still reeling, it's been a long time since a book took me on such an emotional rollercoaster. The Chain of Dogs will stay with me for me the rest of my days.
The reprieve that was given when the one tribe from the Seven Cities attacked the others and recognised the Wickans as the true badasses they were, Coltaine giving Duiker command of the refugees and the deal they made to be guided to Aren. The soldiers giving up all their pay along with the Wickans. That gesture being recognised for what it was by that tribe and them not taking advantage. The refugees making it! Dare I hope!?
Good thing I didn't, as that hope would have been stomped into the goddamn ground a few pages later.
Damn it Erikson. The entire time reading Nil lead Duiker up to the walls I could feel the dread building. So when Nether cried out about how he could help as there were too many, I thought I had it figured out. I was both right and wrong.
The final stand of the Wickans and 7th was truly some heartbreaking shit. Infuriating, depressing, shocking, sad, and extremely disappointing with dashes of hope thrown in. As hard as it was to read. I couldn't help but to get pumped at the middle finger they gave as that last stand. Lull and the standard, only dropping it to assist Bult. Coltaine and the last of the cattle dogs defending him, taking the throat out of a dude that speared it before going down. The pain and turmoil of that archer tasked with making the shot to end it, all seen through Duiker's eyes has he sat helpless.
But goddamn that description of the crows was chilling!
And you finish with that only to have your broken heart set on fire with what happens to the army when they finally decide to attack 🥴
I'm new to the series, I've only read GotM and DG. Just started MI and just got slapped in the face with the prologue in that and the information it hits you with. It doesn't stop does it?
Rel and Dom, I would say I'd see you in hell, but how this series is going they both end up as Ascendents for all I know. Speaking of which, by the time Laseen's true motives were explained, all I could do was shake my head in a half hearted acknowledgement.
I'm sure this has been discussed into the ground, I just had to voice my feelings to others besides my wife who just started back at me a blank, albeit interested look as she has no idea what the hell I'm talking about.

I recently just lost my one year old puppy. Her name was Pennee (like Penny). She had just finished her training and was my emotional support dog. She became such a good girl. When we first rescued her I was so unsure of myself and thought I made a huge mistake. She would be my first dog and I would be taking her to my senior year of college with me to prep for grad school. I didn't want my family to know how doubtful I was but I felt like I made a crazy decision but Pennee taught me how to love. She taught me the privilege of being a mom. Pennee was so wild she always had a smile on her face but was difficult to train. I would get frustrated with her but when I look back it's like at one point she just got it. She went potty on command even if it was one drop, she knew when she could be crazy and she knew when she couldn't. During this time with her my parents were on and off about a divorce and I was always stuck in the middle. It made me very emotional but pennee helped. I even credit getting into PA school to my precious dog. I would always say I wouldn't know what I would do without her and unfortunately it happened too soon. I had made a gotcha day draft to post and that post turned it to something so different. We lost her unexpectedly quick to liver failure. For the first week my family was there. Now my sister tells me "I know she died but this shouldn't be a whole thing you just need to move on." (This is pretty ironic because it took my dog dying for my sister to actually start paying attention to her dog and taking care of her dog) On top of that my parents started fighting again. I feel like I have nowhere to turn now that my Pennee is gone. I planned on giving her such a better life moving out of my college apartment and into my own. I planned on doing life with her. I really needed her. My grief comes in waves but I can't just move on. I keep looking at videos and other posts but the difference is my puppy died not of old age, she had so much more life to live. It's hard to compare. As I prepare to go to PA school in the next couple months I can't help but wonder why this happened to me? Why my life has seemed to start crashing down? She was my soul dog, my reason, my home. I am thankful for family but my situation is far from perfect and it's making it harder. I am so lost and so sad.

Serpent-headed when the glamour was lifted but appearing to man as men among men. Crept they into the Councils, taking forms that were like unto men. Slaying by their arts the chiefs of the kingdoms, taking their form and ruling o'er man. Only by magic could they be discovered. Only by sound could their faces be seen. Sought they from the Kingdom of shadows to destroy man and rule in his place. But, know ye, the Masters were mighty in magic, able to lift the Veil from the face of the serpent, able to send him back to his place -Thoth, the Great Wise
Remember Venom, the parasitic alien life form that is attached to spiderman & a massive church bell isused to get rid of em? Venom was basically an Archon that the gnostics & Thoth talk about. Symbiotes are symbiotic alien life forms which feed on the emotions of their hosts, particularly negative emotions. Bells
Its been reported for ages that the plague would skip over the areas in Russia where they had larger concentrations of church bells. Many Soviet researchers determined the amazing healing properties of bells and found that the oscillation of the ultrasonic range of church bells repels bacilli, viruses, and other infectious diseases that are transmitted through the air, and even cures many other diseases. Bells Healing Study
The Apkalu who introduced the Me, brought arts/crafts, agriculture, writing, magic & music. Enki was god of music. See the golden age ancient civilizations sound, frequency & harmonics was widely understood to be the greatest method for healing the body.
To be clear, the cathedrals that you see around the world were never meant to be churches, they were centers used for healing. Cathedrals Healing Centers Everything the church had was pirated.. In sixth century, Pope Gregory, in a letter to those who were to carry Catholicism to Britain, cautioned these missionaries NOT to destroy the ancient sites. Gregory wanted them to destroy their idols, but insisted they kept the architecture as it was thereby automatically linking alignment to the ley lines and maintaining the power source. Egyptian concept of Maat(Harmony) was of the utmost importance, the reason the discipline that the church created to study Egypt has more questions than answers is because they don't understand this.
In the campaign to disconnect us from our true selves, the most detrimental action theyd take involved musical theory principles, suppression of the tritone in music was a central theme for hundreds of years. Canon laws were passed to mandate rules for how to construct scales, how to handle voice leading, what was considered consonant and dissonant, how contrary motion should be handled, what tones should and should not be emphasized in rhythm, which rhythmic patterns were acceptable and specific instructions for how music should be written. Megalithic monuments were built using acoustic HARMONIC Resonance, one will never understand Pyramid, temples, etc disregarding Harmony with nature.
History repeats itself, this 1939 Nature article wouls lead to the change by International Standards Association (ISA) from 432hz to 440hz & still today they have no true understanding of sound & its many benefits. A=440Hz tuning disassociates the connection of consciousness to the body and creates anti-social conditions in humanity. Music -Double Blind study In preliminary research, analysis, and professional discussions by Walton, Koehler, Reid, et al., on the web, A=440Hz frequency music conflicts with human energy centers (i.e., chakras) from the heart to the base of the spine. Alternatively, chakras above the heart are stimulated. Theoretically, the vibration stimulates ego and left-brain function, suppressing the "heart-mind," intuition and creative inspiration. Interestingly, the difference between 440 and 741 Hz is known in musicology as the Devil's Interval.
For maximum suppression of human consciousness, the frequencies we naturally resonate with, and which are the most biologically and psycho-spiritually enhancing, must be maximally suppressed.Ancient Egyptian and Greek instruments have reportedly been found to be tuned to 432 Hz. 432Hz is consistent with the natural resonance of the UNI-VERSE and all of NATURE, that the pitch is more HARMONIOUS and that when our atoms and DNA resonate in harmony with nature's SPIRAL pattern, our sense of connection to nature is said to be AMPLIFIED. Previously I cited the recent discoveries showing DNA being repaired by use of sound frequencies. Priests of Horus meant that they maintained the knowledge of harmony.
The great pyramid Acoustic chambers matched the harmonic chambers of the human body, the King chambesarcophagus Resonance frequency created a resounding beat frequency matching the human heartbeat. Every site had a navel which resonate at 111hz which switched from left to right brain dominance assisting with holistic processing, leading to altered state of consciousness.
To disconnect as much as possible the functions of these two distinct parts of the brain so we can be manipulated through the right brain while only being conscious of the left.They plant thoughts, responses, and images through the right brain (the dream-state, the non-conscious, through symbolism and subliminal imagery) while imprisoning the human conscious level in the left brain - the world of can I touch it, smell it, taste it, see it, hear it, OK it must exist. This is why the "education" system, and "science" is designed to talk to the left brain.
No architectural element of antiquity (excluding bearing elements), was just a decoration. Everything had a function. Even the vases, and doorknobs. The doorknobs would be made of copper to kill bacteria & infections. So, at the correct frequency there were regenerating concert halls, where people recharged themselves with pleasant music while buildings collected the energy of the ether. They stigmatized the ether & removed it as well. If zero-point energy machines were developed on the biological model of the caduceus coil and central ion channel then our energy generation could actually enhance human evolution rather than harming ourselves and the planet as it does now. Similarly if we construct superconducting solar architecture with a monoatomic lattice in manmade stone, then the energy emanating from this energy generator will also enhance the consciousness of life around it

Serpent-headed when the glamour was lifted but appearing to man as men among men. Crept they into the Councils, taking forms that were like unto men. Slaying by their arts the chiefs of the kingdoms, taking their form and ruling o'er man. Only by magic could they be discovered. Only by sound could their faces be seen. Sought they from the Kingdom of shadows to destroy man and rule in his place. But, know ye, the Masters were mighty in magic, able to lift the Veil from the face of the serpent, able to send him back to his place -Thoth, the Great Wise
Remember Venom, the parasitic alien life form that is attached to spiderman & a massive church bell isused to get rid of em? Venom was basically an Archon that the gnostics & Thoth talk about. Symbiotes are symbiotic alien life forms which feed on the emotions of their hosts, particularly negative emotions. Bells
Its been reported for ages that the plague would skip over the areas in Russia where they had larger concentrations of church bells. Many Soviet researchers determined the amazing healing properties of bells and found that the oscillation of the ultrasonic range of church bells repels bacilli, viruses, and other infectious diseases that are transmitted through the air, and even cures many other diseases. Bells Healing Study
The Apkalu who introduced the Me, brought arts/crafts, agriculture, writing, magic & music. Enki was god of music. See the golden age ancient civilizations sound, frequency & harmonics was widely understood to be the greatest method for healing the body.
To be clear, the cathedrals that you see around the world were never meant to be churches, they were centers used for healing. Cathedrals Healing Centers Everything the church had was pirated.. In sixth century, Pope Gregory, in a letter to those who were to carry Catholicism to Britain, cautioned these missionaries NOT to destroy the ancient sites. Gregory wanted them to destroy their idols, but insisted they kept the architecture as it was thereby automatically linking alignment to the ley lines and maintaining the power source. Egyptian concept of Maat(Harmony) was of the utmost importance, the reason the discipline that the church created to study Egypt has more questions than answers is because they don't understand this.
In the campaign to disconnect us from our true selves, the most detrimental action theyd take involved musical theory principles, suppression of the tritone in music was a central theme for hundreds of years. Canon laws were passed to mandate rules for how to construct scales, how to handle voice leading, what was considered consonant and dissonant, how contrary motion should be handled, what tones should and should not be emphasized in rhythm, which rhythmic patterns were acceptable and specific instructions for how music should be written. Megalithic monuments were built using acoustic HARMONIC Resonance, one will never understand Pyramid, temples, etc disregarding Harmony with nature.
History repeats itself, this 1939 Nature article wouls lead to the change by International Standards Association (ISA) from 432hz to 440hz & still today they have no true understanding of sound & its many benefits. A=440Hz tuning disassociates the connection of consciousness to the body and creates anti-social conditions in humanity. Music -Double Blind study In preliminary research, analysis, and professional discussions by Walton, Koehler, Reid, et al., on the web, A=440Hz frequency music conflicts with human energy centers (i.e., chakras) from the heart to the base of the spine. Alternatively, chakras above the heart are stimulated. Theoretically, the vibration stimulates ego and left-brain function, suppressing the "heart-mind," intuition and creative inspiration. Interestingly, the difference between 440 and 741 Hz is known in musicology as the Devil's Interval.
For maximum suppression of human consciousness, the frequencies we naturally resonate with, and which are the most biologically and psycho-spiritually enhancing, must be maximally suppressed.Ancient Egyptian and Greek instruments have reportedly been found to be tuned to 432 Hz. 432Hz is consistent with the natural resonance of the UNI-VERSE and all of NATURE, that the pitch is more HARMONIOUS and that when our atoms and DNA resonate in harmony with nature's SPIRAL pattern, our sense of connection to nature is said to be AMPLIFIED. Previously I cited the recent discoveries showing DNA being repaired by use of sound frequencies. Priests of Horus meant that they maintained the knowledge of harmony.
The great pyramid Acoustic chambers matched the harmonic chambers of the human body, the King chambesarcophagus Resonance frequency created a resounding beat frequency matching the human heartbeat. Every site had a navel which resonate at 111hz which switched from left to right brain dominance assisting with holistic processing, leading to altered state of consciousness.
To disconnect as much as possible the functions of these two distinct parts of the brain so we can be manipulated through the right brain while only being conscious of the left.They plant thoughts, responses, and images through the right brain (the dream-state, the non-conscious, through symbolism and subliminal imagery) while imprisoning the human conscious level in the left brain - the world of can I touch it, smell it, taste it, see it, hear it, OK it must exist. This is why the "education" system, and "science" is designed to talk to the left brain.
No architectural element of antiquity (excluding bearing elements), was just a decoration. Everything had a function. Even the vases, and doorknobs. The doorknobs would be made of copper to kill bacteria & infections. So, at the correct frequency there were regenerating concert halls, where people recharged themselves with pleasant music while buildings collected the energy of the ether. They stigmatized the ether & removed it as well. If zero-point energy machines were developed on the biological model of the caduceus coil and central ion channel then our energy generation could actually enhance human evolution rather than harming ourselves and the planet as it does now. Similarly if we construct superconducting solar architecture with a monoatomic lattice in manmade stone, then the energy emanating from this energy generator will also enhance the consciousness of life around it

CANCER ZODIAC GETS MYSTERIOUS SURPRISE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXMEaNCO7FU
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