Wooden go karts blueprints

Wanna make some friends as new to town. Is Meetups a thing here? How do people socialize in Hamilton?
Things like nature walks, go-karting, badminton, going to gigs, live music, etc.

I need help, I’ve bought a 16hp OHV horizontal engine, with a shaft diameter of 25.4mm (or 1 inch I think), anyway I plan on building a go kart/atv kind of thing with it, but I have no idea what kind of chain or sprocket to buy to go further, I also have no idea where to buy them. I want to put the sprocket onto the engine and then connect by chain to an axel below (that’s all that’s important for this) Is this how I should do it? And how do I know what to buy and where to buy?

Apart from the obvious issues like the bots, shit matchmaking, and neglect from Valve. Something that's personally kinda rubbed me the wrong way about TF2 the more I've gotten older is how "team" reliant the game is. No matter how good you are or how much of the map you have memorized down to chokepoints/alt paths or health/ammo pickups. Every round results in a pub stomp that's determined on how retarded/good the other members in your team are for covering your class's weaknesses. I understand it's a team oriented game but it just gets old at age 27 to have every single round just be a completely unequal pub stomp -- even on uncletopia. Almost every round is predetermined to go a certain way if you already have 3-5 other good/shit players on the same team as you. Little player agency.
The best parts of TF2 for me as a guy who has played since 2012 were Versus Saxton Hale before Valve ruined it/updated it and now nobody plays the Old Saxton Hale with community servers featuring those dozens of old custom community maps like Crevice, and just wacky shit like the mario kart maps but most of that's gone today.

I need help, I’ve bought a 16hp OHV horizontal engine, with a shaft diameter of 25.4mm (or 1 inch I think), anyway I plan on building a go kart with it, but I have no idea what kind of chain or sprocket to buy to go further, I also have no idea where to buy them. I want to put the sprocket onto the engine and then connect by chain to an axel below (that’s all that’s important for this) Is this how I should do it? And how do I know what to buy and where to buy?

I need help, I’ve bought a 16hp OHV horizontal engine, with a shaft diameter of 25.4mm (or 1 inch I think), anyway I plan on building a go kart with it, but I have no idea what kind of chain or sprocket to buy to go further, I also have no idea where to buy them. I want to put the sprocket onto the engine and then connect by chain to an axel below (that’s all that’s important for this) Is this how I should do it? And how do I know what to buy and where to buy?

Hi all, I'm hoping someone has some advice for me about how to resolve this issue.
I live in a house with a back yard that is totally fenced in by a large wooden fence. The only gate is at the end of my driveway and I always leave it closed with my garbage cans in front of it; it can't be opened from the driveway side.
Anyway, despite this, kids in the neighborhood are getting into my back yard, sometimes cutting through my yard and going out the gate into my driveway. The first time it happened was a boy from one of the houses behind me (not sure which one) jumping the fence to get a ball that had landed in my back yard. I let that one go because I was busy cooking dinner.
The next time it was 2 girls coming out of my back gate; I saw it through the window but by the time I got outside to tell them it's not ok for them to be there, they were gone.
Then one night I heard someone moving my garbage cans around in the driveway, but it was dark and I couldn't see anyone out the window, and I was too scared to go outside at that point.
I don't recognize any of these children and I'm not sure where they live or who their parents are, but it is absolutely NOT ok for them to be jumping my fence and trespassing in my yard. It's not safe to be jumping fences, but with the current state of the world I'm worried that I'd be somehow held liable if one of these kids injured themselves trespassing in my yard.
Any advice on what I can do about this?

It is a man, old and scraggy. He wears a jacket that lays over the red plaid button shirt and blue jeans. He wears an old baseball cap and a pair of glasses. He yelled something to Dad, holding his hands up like he was pleading, although we couldn’t hear it over the truck engine. They talked, but we couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Hey, what are they saying”, I asked, while petting Matt’s hair, calming him. The old man then put his hands down and came close to Dad in a cautious way. They seem to start having some kind of conversation.
“I don’t really know, hopefully, something good”, Mom answered. They talked for a little while, with daylight beginning to disappear, giving us a sense of dread, and making me more worried about what weird creature was going to show up. Eventually, the old man turned and pointed toward what I think is the northeast. They then shook hands and walked back to their respective vehicles. “What’s going on”, Mom asked as Dad got into the truck.
“Well, our new friend here invited us to dinner at his farm”, Dad replied.
“Does he have supplies?”
“Well, he says has supplies for us to make the journey.”
“Should we even trust him? We just met h-”
“Relax, he’s just an old man, living alone at his farm, feeding his cows. What could go wrong”, Dad countered. The old man then entered the truck that was running and drove slowly, expecting us to follow him.
“Alrighty then, but we have to be cautious”, Mom said, with her suspicions of the old man. We then followed the old truck along the dark, frozen road. It just feels like something is going to show up along the road, but nothing happened. Matt did eventually stop crying, but he is still upset about the Joe escape thing.
“Where are we going”, Matt lamented, with the prior series of events in mind.
“I guess somebody is offering us dinner”, I answered.
“Why can’t we just go home?”
“It’s only going to be a stop, like a hotel. After that, we go to our new home, I guess”, I said, taking another look at Matt and cradling to comfort him. “It’s going to be okay.” I stared out into the darkness. I looked to the sky from the window and I faintly saw something in the clear, dark sky, lit up by the waning moon. They were brilliant, green auroras that defy the bright moon, dancing across the sky like ribbons in the wind. The truck eventually took a right-hand turn into another road, with us following suit. I can see a bright, orange light emerging from a patch of tree. When we passed by, it seemed it was a house, at a farm, burning in a massive flame.
“I guess those people aren’t so, uh, lucky”, Dad said, taking a quick look at it before looking at the road. Passing by, we went on and continued to follow the old man’s truck. We passed onto another intersection until he turned into a driveway to what I believe to be his farm. Going into the driveway, I can see an old house, along with a dilapidated farm further away, barely visible by the headlights. The old man parked by the house, where there were a few other trucks there. We parked alongside the truck and we got out into the cold, near-silent night.
“Welcome to sanctuary, where all are welcome”, the old man bellowed. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice. Matt was the last to get out of the truck, slowly and clumsily climbing out of the truck.
“What’s your name”, my Mom politely asked the old man.
“Oh, I guess your husband didn’t tell ya. My name is Steven, but you can call me Steve”, the old man said, with some crackling in his voice. “I am very proud to host a dinner for you and your family”, he continued. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Oh, my name is Janice”, Mom replied, quite pleased at his politeness.
“Hello, Janice, and what are their names”, Steven asked, pointing to me and Matt.
“That’s my daughter Kate and my son Matt”, Dad said to Mom.
“Oh, what wonderful names for a couple of beautiful children you have”, Steve grinned. “Come, it is dangerous out here.” We followed him to the house, which looked like it had seen better days. He entered through the double-set door, the first a solid door and a screen door behind. Entering the house, it smelled like what you’d expect, old man. Looking onto the floor is made of glossy wood and walls with cracks, likely caused by the earthquake. It is dark in there, lit by candlelight from many candles, yet it’s fairly warm here. I don’t know why we went into the house, but Dad was right, Steve is just a lonely, old man. Matter of fact, there seems to be nothing wrong here, other than the cracks in the walls. “Sorry, the power went out. Had to resort to the candles. I knew my wife would come in handy”, Steve explained as he took his coat off. “Oh, supper will be ready right away. Had to use the fireplace to cook. Also, can you take your boots off?” We took our boots and set them aside. We went into what seemed to be a living room, with dusty old-style furniture.
“So, where do we sit”, Mom asked.
“Oh, well, follow me”, Steve commanded, leading us to the dining room, with a long, wooden table and six wooden chairs, along with their corresponding old-fashioned plates, glasses and cutlery, lit up in the candlelight. We noticed that everything on the table was covered in a thin veil of dust. “My apologies, the recent shocks dropped a bit of dust on the table”, he explained as he noticed us looking at the plates and moved into another room nearby. “Take your seats if you like.” We all settled onto the chairs, and blew off our plates of the dust settled there.
“When will we eat”, Matt impatiently said.
“Once Steve comes out with the food”, Mom answered. Matt sat there with a tired look on his face. Dad seemed to be in a better mood than before and it looked like he wanted to start a conversation.
“Hey, should we talk about something”, Dad asked. I then see Steve with a bowl and a silver plate.
“Here we go, may not be much, but at least it’ll fulfil the soul”, Steve said, smiling when he served us mashed potatoes and meatloaf. “So, shall we pray?” That came unexpectedly, as we are not too religious, but we were in his house and gave us shelter and food.
“Sure, we can do that”, Mom said and we all bowed our heads and put our hands together. Steve cleared his throat
“Thank you, Lord, for this good food to feed the soul in these hard times. I shall pray, in the name of the Lord and Jesus Christ, that these hard times shall be over, so we can get on with our lives. Amen.” We raised our heads and grabbed whatever food there was onto our plates. “Oh, there’s no gravy, so we have to deal with bare potaters and meatloaf.”
“Oh, not to worry. Thank you for the food”, Dad thanked Steve. We began to eat the food once we got it sorted.
“So, what brings you here”, Steve asked.
“Well, there is an evacuation order in effect for this area, so we had to go to Regina”, Dad explained, with Steve taking in every word. “So, we came from Strasbourg, we tried going south towards Regina, but we hit an obstacle in the way and we had to take another route, leading us here.”
“And we encountered a few odd things along the way”, Mom added.
“Huh, interesting. What do you guys think is going on”, Steve inquired.
“By the things we saw, we have no idea. Dinosaurs, devil dogs, hell pigs, the whole deal. I shouldn’t forget the earthquake. They told us a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake”, Dad clarified to Steve.
“Hmm… is that so”, Steve wondered. “Wonder what I think is happening? The Rapture is happening. Do you know how the Bible tells us of the end times? Good people sent to be with God and his kingdom, the rest here to suffer the Hell unleashed by Satan.” By this point, he was beginning to rant, but we couldn't stop it as we all began to feel tired and powerless. “So, the Devil will send his demons in the form of these illusions so that they can torment the sinners. It is happening, it is-” Steve manically continued as I drew towards blackness and his voice becoming less coherent. My vision is now all black.
I saw those same lights, but more rapidly than before. I then emerged onto the same clear sky, but something felt different. I can smell something in the air. I can smell what seems to be chemicals in the air. Looking down, I was terrified. Dark, grey rock in the shape of ropes and folds, similar to those I saw of lava flows on a volcano in pictures. This went on as far as the eye could see. I can see no tree this time, just the cooled lava everywhere. I then walked, feeling every bump and crag. I thought I walked forever until I heard a rumbling sound and woke up.
I am in total darkness. It is cold and it smells like cow manure. I tried to move my hand, but it seemed to be bonded behind my back by a rope. I tried to move my feet, but they were also bound by rope to the legs I tried to speak, only to realise my mouth was agape by a cloth in my mouth. I heard shuffling nearby but I could not see. It was then shone in light when Steve entered the door, holding a candle, revealing all of us in the same situation. I then can see what we are in. We are in that same wooden dilapidated barn we saw earlier and seems to be more damaged than the house, wood creaking can be heard.
“These sedatives are more effective than I thought. Maybe I should use them more often”, Steve smoothly explained, like he’s some kind of agent and began pacing. “Wonder why you are here? Well, I wondered the same thing to myself, why didn’t God take me to his heaven? When I first heard of the government telling us of those evacuation plans, I thought it was that, a leaking pipe. I began to notice things I couldn’t believe myself, at least at first. Earthquakes, weird creatures showing up, people disappearing, the whole spiel. I connected the dots. The Rapture is happening, for sure, but why me? Why was I the one left here on this Earth”, Steve calmly ranted, pacing around the barn, but it seemed to sound crazier and angrier the more he paced. “I thought I had lost my way. I’ve been unfaithful to God and his son. But, I realised that God always has a plan and he left me on this Earth to serve a purpose. I wondered what my purpose was until I had a moment.” He then stopped in place and calmed down. He turned to look at Mom with accusing yet crazed eyes.
“I’m supposed to keep the sinners here in line, to earn a place in God’s kingdom, or suffer in Hell. I know you are a sweet woman, Janice, but your treachery with Satan is over and I am going to do what’s right.” Mom then looked at all of us, with assuring eyes like that of an innocent yet caring mother we all know knew. I began crying and trying to speak through the cloth, but I was helpless to watch by. “Forgive me, Father, for what I am going to do.” He then pulled a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Mom’s neck with no mercy. I looked away once he did that, trembling, with tears pouring out and my vision glazed and I fell limp. I could see my brother tearing up, but he did not look away. I can hear Dad behind me, with his screams of agony and anger covered by the cloth. It felt like I was in slow motion, taking in every moment.
I then heard the chair, screeching as Steve dragged the chair containing Mom’s lifeless body towards the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. I couldn’t bear to see my mother like this. I shut my eyes very hard and hoped it would go away. The door then shut, leaving us alone with a candle, fearing what would come next. I stared at the candle, seeing it dance in the flames like a woman dancing in the darkness. Is this how it’ll end, I thought. End up dying to this sick man? My Mom was killed in front of me. I sobbed with that thought, then I began to think about the inevitable death of me. I hope there’s something after I die. Maybe I’ll see Mom again.
It was silent for a while, nearly no sound other than our moans. Dad seems to be fidgeting at the back of his chair, rocking it slowly. Looking past him, I shuddered at the glistening pool of blood, where Mom was last alive, could be my fate. I then see Dad release his arms from the back of the chair and remove the cloth from his mouth. He silently stood up and bent down to untie his legs from the chair legs. He then went to me and removed my cloth.
“H-h-how did you do that”, I silently wept, fearing that Steve would show up at the door and kill us all.
“My binding is loose. The old man probably took a liking to me”, Dad whispered. “I should remove your binds.” He untied them, releasing me, doing the same for Matt. “Now, we need to be quiet.” We then walked, quietly, along the painfully creaking wood in the near dark, following the blood trail, glistening in the candlelight. We cringed and dreaded each sound we made and watched the door in case it began to creak open. A few silent steps later, we made it to the door and we slowly opened it so as not to make any noise. What was revealed to us is nothing new, other than the blood trail continuing in the snow directing towards the back of the barn. “Okay, Kate, Matt, you guys run to the truck.”
“What about you”, I sobbed.
“Don’t worry about me”, Dad responded, giving me his keys and forcing them into my hand. “If I’m not back in a few minutes, leave. Don’t look back, take care of your brother, okay? I love you, no matter what happens.” He then kissed me on the head and ran to follow the blood trail. We quickly walked towards the black truck, stranded there for maybe hours. Getting closer, freedom is getting closer. When we got to a fair distance to the truck, I heard footsteps behind me and, the next thing I knew, I was knocked over to the ground into the hard snow on my face. A hand turned me over to give me a glimpse of a crazed Steve, his eyes wilder than before.
“Oh, yes, trying to escape”, he bragged. I looked at him, frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights and he caressed my face with his bloodied blade. “You do have a pretty face, but I’m afraid you are just one of Satan's creations, made to pull me to lust.” He then raised his knife in the air when a familiar side emerged, out of the blue.
Joe came and bit him in the arm that was holding the knife. Steve screamed in agony the moment he realised what happened. He shook Joe off and stood up to stand his ground. I stood up as Joe hissed and walked around the crazed being he wounded, not in fear but in aggressiveness. “Is this one of your pets, demon”, Steve screamed as Joe came in for another attack, but Steve countered that with a slash to the snout. Joe then ran away, whining, into the darkness. This sequence of events gave me the chance to enter the truck on the driver’s side. I had some trouble starting it, besides this is my first time driving a truck.
Steve menacelily walked towards the when Dad came barreling and tackled him to the ground. Dad was on top when he went limp. I finally put the keys in the engine turned it on and backed out, with memory serving me the instructions on such a vehicle. Steve pushed Dad’s body and stood up, but by that time, we left the farm.
“Turn back, we have to get Dad”, Matt cried, but I was very emotional, accepting what happened. I felt that, without my parents, I feel… useless.
“Dad’s dead”, I screamed at Matt and he began gagging uncontrollably in tears. I began to feel sorry for him. “Sorry, I, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay”, Matt sniffled. “I guess Mom and Dad are dead anyways.” It was silence for a few more minutes, tears welling in our eyes.
“Hey, our parents are in a better place”, I said, trying to make the situation positive.
“But we are stuck here, without them? Don’t we deserve to go to a better place?”
“Don’t say that”, I huffed and I paused for a bit. “I know we are in the, uh, right place now. Let me tell you something, once we get to Regina, I will take care of you, no matter what life throws at us.”
“What about Joe”, Matt asked.
“He’ll be fine. He probably found his girlfriend already.”
“Hey, don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“I, uh, I don’t have one. That I know of”, I spoke, bringing me back to Sam, remembering that she’s the only friend that I ever knew, and I left her. Without her, I felt alone, no one would ever relate. I began to tear up. “I don’t have any friends. I am alone,” I sobbed.
“What do you mean? I’m your brother!” I looked at Matt, and smiled, happy that he acknowledged that we were in this together.
“Thank you”, I thanked him. I slowly stopped on the road, just to hug Matt hard, crying my eyes out. We then heard what sounded like an elephant in front of us. We looked up to see a walking snow-covered brown fur wall with four pillar-like legs in front of us. Its curved tusks gleaned in the light and the eyes reflected in the light. The furry trunk waved around like a searching snake from a tree. We both knew what it was.
“Hey, look at that, a woolly mammoth”, Matt said, excitement running through him. At this point, we weren’t surprised.
“Yep, that is a woolly mammoth”, I added. The mammoth turned to us on the road, seemingly confused about where it was. It looked at our truck and seemed to growl, like an elephant. We are starting to realise this thing is becoming aggressive.
“Uh, should we move”, Matt asked. I remembered hearing something about standing your ground in case of an encounter with an elephant. I hoped it would work for a bigger, furrier version of one.
“No, we have to stand our ground.”
“But, it’ll attack u-”
“Trust me!” I then honked my horn and it backed up. It then rushed, then stopped, a mock charge. Eventually, it moved out of the road, disappearing into the darkness. We sighed in relief.
“That was close”, Matt sighed. I then continued to drive in the night, headlights leading the way. The road is bumpy, as noticed by every ditch and peak we hit, but surprisingly, Matt was fast asleep. I began to get comfortable driving and used to the road by that point. It was silent for a while until we hit a smaller intersection. That is when the truck shut down, completely and stopped. I tried the gas many times but with no effect. There is no light, nothing. It is near-darkness here, shone only by the moonlight.
“Shit”, I yelled, desperate to turn the truck on without much success. Matt woke up, confused.
“What happened”, he yawned.
“The truck turned itself off. I can’t get it back on”, I fretted and at that moment, Matt was just as panicked as I am.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know. One moment, we were driving, another it just-”, I quavered, when I heard something rustle in the distance. We stood still, hoping whatever it was didn’t find us. I looked around, hoping to see something in the moonlight. I then see a long, walking animal. It looked like some sort of alligator at first, except for a dinosaur-like head. Once I strained my eyes to the darkness, my fear levels rose as I could see it walk on its hind limbs, with its forelimbs dangling nearly touching the ground.
It was wandering around on the road when I heard a near-crocodilian growl at Matt’s side of the truck. Another of those creatures appeared, seemingly looking into the window like a hungry bear, giving us a chance to see its scaly head. Its exposed alligator teeth gleaned in the light like knives, but more terrifying was the eye. Its serpentine pupil shone brilliantly in the light like eyes in the dark. It then ducked down, gave a hiss, and moved towards the other one. A few more showed up and formed a group.
“What should we do”, Matt asked. “Should we stay?” I looked around, hoping for another way to escape them without them noticing. I further strained my eyes and mentally mapped out the area. There is a cemetery on my right-hand side, a grain bin storage yard on my left and a series of trailers on the other side of the highway, which is ahead of us, from the storage area. There, I see a series of white, storage buildings, something we can go to and wait it out inside.
“Okay, so slowly open the door”, I instructed Matt. The click of the doors opening cringed us. We looked at the group, but there was no response from them. We then, as slowly as we could, opened the door and stepped out. Still no response. Matt then quietly ran to the other side, towards me. “Okay, we are going into the storage yard and go to the other entrance”, I said, pointing to the other right-hand corner. I wanted to get as far away from these things as possible before making a safe crossing. “Then, we cross the highway on the other side, run into the buildings and stay there for the night. Are you ready?”
“I guess”, he whispered, looking at me in fearful doubt.
“We are going to do this”, I whispered back. We then silently ran over, having to rely on our night-adapted eyes, to the corner, walking past the bins. We made it and nothing behind us so far. “We’re good so far.” We then crossed the road and noticed nothing. We noticed a tanker truck, leaking some sort of fluid across the road. I easily recognized it as fuel, based on its distinctive, sickly smell. I wouldn’t be worried about it if it weren’t for a collapsed light pole that is somehow still flickering with electricity near the area where the fuel would be flowing. We quickly avoided the fluid when I froze to see the group of the walking alligators, running towards us. “Run!” Matt tried to run, but one of those things appeared and clamped its jaws at the back of his neck. He yelped in pain and it took him down to the ground. “Matt”, I yelled, helplessly watching as the creature tore into him.
Matt reached out his arm before the others came to him, then a flash of fire came. At this point, I knew what happened, but I couldn’t even think before it exploded. It blew me towards the building, far away. I was knocked out for a few seconds before I regained consciousness, groaning in pain on the ice. I noticed something especially painful just below my chest. I reached towards the area with my hand. I pressed on it, more painful than ever and raised my hand, only to see blood, brightened by the fire. I realised I was wounded, maybe by shrapnel made by the explosion.
I looked toward where the truck was and all I saw was a blaze. Those things weren’t there, at least. I also noticed something else, too, there’s no Matt. I tried to look around for something, some sort of sign of my brother within the fire, but I saw none. I then wept, realising I had failed. I have failed to keep him safe. I have failed to give him a better life. I failed him as a sister. I could’ve done better. The thoughts poured in as tears glazed my eyes. At that moment, I failed to look around me.
I noticed a dark thing beside the blaze. I thought it was Matt, preparing to greet him back, even though I knew he couldn’t survive the explosion. The image became clearer and clearer as I noticed it was one of the walking crocs that, glazed by the fire, was coming towards me.
“Just kill me”, I screamed, preparing to painfully die to meet my maker. The creature was about to attack me when something large, silent as the wind, came charging and clamped down its massive jaws, filled with conical teeth on the hapless creature and raised it. The crocodile struggled before going limp with a crunch within its strong jaws. The big, dark and scaly monster that it is towered over me and is as long as a bus, possibly longer. Its large legs are a contradiction to its small arms that hide beneath its scarred, bulky body.
It turned to look at me with an oddly bird-like expression, revealing in the firelight numerous scars from battles I could never know and looked at me with its beady bird-like eyes, breathing out wisps from its nostrils like a dragon in the cool air. I recognized it as a creature I know too well, a T. Rex. I breathed heavily and sickly, looking at the thing, nearly expecting me to drop the body and go after me. Instead, it simply walked away, carrying its bloody prize with it, and steadily retreated into the darkness.
I then lay down in agonizing exhaustion on my back, thinking of the next step of action like I'm on a suicide mission I would never come back from. I looked in the direction of the graveyard and had one thought. I guess I am dying. a graveyard will do. I struggled to stand up, noticing my blood-soaked clothes and felt a broken left leg. I grasped my wound, limping step by step and enduring the sharp pain while shaking in the cold. Every step I took, I remembered all the memories, good or bad, that I had with my parents. My brother. My friends. My family. I eventually reached the cemetery and slouched at a tree.
“Guess I’m joining you, guys”, I said, speaking to the snow-covered gravestones, only to hear something. A familiar sound of chirping emerged and, lit by the blaze, it was a sight I can hope for. “Joe, what are you doing here”, I depressingly cheered as Joe went to me and curled up in my lap as if he were a cat. I noticed the new-found scar he had on his little snout, but I paid no mind as I petted him. “I guess you came back. Thank you so much for what you did”, I thanked him, not expecting such a loyal creature would be with me, comforting me, to the end, like what my mother used to do when I was a newborn. I heard another noise, this time a deep rumble.
I thought it was another earthquake coming, but it got louder the closer it got to me, becoming more animalistic only felt small vibrations I barely felt. Joe stayed put, oddly enough, as T. Rex, different from the first one, came. It walked towards us until it stopped short of us. It began to produce a low-pitched, bird-like purring, attracting Joe. I realised something, that this T. Rex is Joe’s parent. He joined the rest like him, whom they showed up and all chirped around.
The grown Rex then brought its snout closer to me, not to kill me, but to look at me. It did not reveal its teeth and was still purring. I put my hand out and its nose came close to it. It rubbed it against my hand and started to pet its cold, scaly skin as it breathed through its nose and put it on my chest. I rested my head on it before it pulled away. It gave out a hiss, but I knew it wasn’t that of a threat, but more of a thank you for bringing its small, sometimes immature, child home.
That gave me relief, as it felt like I at least did something for once. They walked away, along with Joe, towards the darkness amongst the gravestones in the cemetery. I glimpsed one last desperate look at Joe before walking beside his parent. I looked up at the sky and I could see all the stars, twinkling, and the dancing green auroras. I began to feel limp and felt the cold embrace of death coming over me, tears pouring out of my eyes. The sky then grew brighter and brighter, the stars faded into the light and I could see my family welcoming me to a new home. It then slowly went black, darker than a cave.
You would think this is the end of me. It wasn’t, or else I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I eventually woke up in a hospital in Regina. I was told I was rescued by a team that transported me while I was in a coma. The doctors said I was very lucky to be alive, as the shrapnel narrowly avoided my vital organs. After that, I was adopted into a new family, but I was only with them for a couple of years before finding a new job and moving out.
As for Sam, I don’t know what happened to her. I would like to think she is safe, somewhere else. As for my family, I think of them all the time. I was in a depressive period right after that. Eventually, over the years, I accepted that they were gone and went to a better place. For Joe, I would like to think he is all grown up, like his parents, and becoming the king of the jungle. I hope we meet again.
As for the evacuated area, it wasn’t some pipeline rupture that caused an evaluation, but an anomaly, with the exact reason not known. There are excuses for the claims of weird stuff going on in there, from disease to chemicals, to eventually a previously unknown geological event, but I saw through it all.
You may ask how, it's because I've been there. Take it or leave it, this is the story I have. As the decade came by, cover-ups were made to hide it, even walls were put around it. Since the incident, the exclusion zone grew from a mere 80 kilometers in diameter to 460 kilometers in diameter, emptying entire cities of the likes of Regina and Saskatoon. I had to move to North Battleford, by the recommendation from the same government covering it up, making me think that time will tell before the floodgates of truth open.
The anomaly didn’t have a name initially, however, over the years, everyone agreed on one name in particular: The Saskatchewan Anomaly.

Essay ahead. TW: Animal abuse, child abuse and neglect, fire, and mention of illicit substances. Please don't read this if you are highly sensitive. You might not sleep tonight.
My mom ran a puppy mill starting when I was about 9. Until I was 24 I worked for her, her dog grooming and breeding businesses. Toy breeds. At one point we have over 200 dogs and the same amount of puppies, but when I left she had about 50 of each. She was a narcissist and I was trapped trying to make things better for the puppies. She also used money to control me. Starting at around 13 and maybe earlier, I stayed up with puppies some nights, getting up every two hours to feed them and turn the heating pad back on. I have narcolepsy now, and I often wonder if messing up my sleep schedule so young contributed to it.
We were selling these puppies for $600-$2000 but she told me we couldn't afford better equipment to take care of them. A lot of the money went down my dad's throat, up his nose, in his veins, and in his brain. He's gone now, passed before he reached 50.
I've seen parvo and other viruses run through her kennel due to bad decisions. My mom lamented each time about the amount of money she lost, not at the horror of the death. I've held countless puppies in my bra and in my hands as they breathed their last breath. I've seen puppies and fully adult dogs be thrown in the trash with the dog shit. I watched in utter heart break as weak puppies pushed aside by their mother's were removed and left alone to squeak and squeak until they squeaked their last breath. I always picked them up and comforted them. They didn't squeak and cry so much if I was holding them next to me. The end was easier if I was with them. So I stayed. And died tiny deaths with them.
I've seen more dog fights than I care to think about. Dogs torn apart by other dogs then throw in the trash. Even now, part of my consciousness stays awake at night because I have to be able to hear if there is a fight in the kennels. I don't live there anymore. This definitely contributes to the narcolepsy.
About 4 months ago her kennel burned down. My grandmother and medium support needs autistic cousin saved as many as they could, but the three of them saw the kennel burn and the dogs with it. Less than half survived. I will never forgive my mother for owning the mill that allowed such a horrific thing to happen. It was due to improper wiring and having so much wood. Wooden runs in a wooden building. I will never let go of how much she has hurt my cousin. He is precious and loves those animals.
This has also caused a rift in my family. My uncle was the one who told me that day, and when I called him back he told me that he couldn't comfort my cousin because he was my cousin's dad. I lost it on him. I watched this man neglect his son during my childhood and immediately pawn him off on my grandmother the night my grandfather died. My mom basically raised my cousin because he was so neglectful. The neglect got to me and I made sure he knew it was his decisions that led to this, but that's not what my family heard.
My brother also texted me that day to tell me to call my grandmother. I was trying to reel my emotions in and not make any of this more difficult on her, as I was ready to do not nice things to my mother. When I explained this, my brother decided that that was the straw that broke the camels back and went no contact with me very abruptly after an unnecessarily mean message. I didn't know there were any straws on the camels back, being as he lives states away and has since he was 21. The words in his message made it clear that he thought very poorly of me for a long time. We aren't even 30 yet, but you really only get one time to tell me I don't contribute anything to the world and mean it before you are cut from my life forever. I thought I would have my brother until near the end.......
This has, predictably, been wildly painful for me. I'm cleaning out infected wounds that tell me that products have feelings or that I can't be sad over puppy death. I hate that my brother didn't free himself of my mother's influence and get out of this empathy crushing system we were raised in. I worry about his husband often.
The silver lining, if there is any, is that my family was bad for me and now I've gotten out. I've got a slew of disabilities that they blamed me for, but I don't have to be there anymore. I'm happily married to the amazing man I've been with since highschool and we have a house of our own with two pets. I'm cleaning the wounds, been going to therapy since I was 18, and know that I need to get my psyche cleaned up so I can live a happy, fulfilled life. It's a process, but I've made a lot of good progress. If you made it this far, thanks internet stranger. It's a long, painful read.
Be good. Be safe. Have fun. You deserve goodness.

Younger hooper here, i am 175cm, 47 kg, im pretty fast and explosive with a 37 inch vert but very injury prone. I play the 1-2 position, mostly use change of pace, using a crossover or a pushcross to explode pass the defender and/or pull up into the midrange jumper.
I use my own insole(pic 3 n 4), something I recommend everyone to do, and recently got a full length carbon fiber insole.
What i want in a shoe that is low to the ground, has stability, is snug, wont slip out, good cushioning, and comfortable.
My favourite shoes all time are spo1+, kyrie 7, freak4 and kyrie infinity.
Poron Insole review: (US9.5) TTS Usage: 100+ hours (casually and on court) Tech: Poron on forefoot and heel, gel from heel to midfoot. Performance: Insole fits in all my shoes, provides better step in comfort, no arch support. The insole itself has good impact protection, but putting it in the shoe itself is hard because of the gel sticking to the inside of the shoe. Will try same shoe but with tpu plastic from heel to midfoot.
Result: A-
Carbon fiber insoles review:(US9.5) TTS Usage: 5 hours+ (casually) Tech: full length carbon fiber from heel to toe, poron in the heel. Bouncy rubber holds the carbon fiber in place, memory foam on top. Performance: Not much to say currently, will bring this on court soon but currently i am trying to break them in. Currently very comfortable, very bouncy but forefoot will hurt when you land, still has heel compression.
Result: N/A
When you buy the insole you get the size of the bigger size, ie eu43 has 44, eu 45 has 46
Doom GT Cut:(US9.5) TTS Usage: 10+ hours on outdoor and rubberized courts, not tried on wooden floors. Tech: React midsole with full length zoom stroble and thick zoom unit in the heel. Performance: This shoe is wow! Honestly I expected way less because of the reviews. The traction is incredible, never slipped out. Cushion is amazing! I had to replace the zoom strobel however because it deflated over time, within my second session(low rim dunk training). I would watch out for durability but these never caused any knee pain which is a plus in my book. The react midsole bottomed out quicky and molded to my footshape, no clue if retail does this. Lockdown is good, the tpu piece at the side helped with lateral movements. I never felts unstable in these. Pretty low to the ground. Comfort is another strong point, I would wear these casually.
Result: A
LeBron Next Gen EP:(US9.5) TTS/0.5 Usage: 20+ hours(outdoors, rubberized and wooden court) Tech: Phylon midsole with Zoom in the forefoot and heel. I loved this shoe because of its colour, but I feel that this is kind of a letdown but definitely a great shoe for outdoor hoopers. Traction is great outdoors and on rubberized courts but it slid out on wooden courts when i was doing crossovers and defending, which as a small and light guard is a huge no no. Cushion is the best part of the shoe, the zoom turbo in the forefoot is great underfoot, heel zoom unit feels great for comfort and impact protection. Definitely amazing for guards playing outdoors. Lockdown isn’t that good from side to side because of the materials making the side of your feet slightly over the base, making it feel like your hanging slightly and feels unstable. I want to say that the quality of the materials isn’t the best, and sometimes how the upper contains my foot makes the shoe feel bottom heavy and sluggish.
Result: B+
Son Of Flash: (US9.5)TTS Usage: 60+ hours all on outdoor court Tech: Two boom pods in heel and forefoot caged in cloud foam. Performance: This shoe is everything its meant for, definitely an outdoor beast. The traction is wearing away at hot spots already but for me to always reach for them before going out speaks for its performance. Traction sticks on concrete, no matter how dusty or rough, it never slipped out. Cushion is plush in the heel and reactive in the forefoot. You dont feel the boom underfoot but it does its job. Lockdown is great, it feels like a kyrie in terms of how it plays but one issue i have is that this is the only shoe ive sprained my ankle very badly in. I dont blame the shoe because my landing mechanics that day were slightly off because one defender kept going in my landing space but after the sprain i could never go 100% in them. This is another shoe i would rock casually, very comfortable and plays well outdoors.
Result: A+
All city 11:(US9) TTS Usage: 20+ hours(outdoors and rubberized courts) Tech: full length caged boom Performance: One thing i regret is not using them more, and getting my true size, this is the most kyrie feeling shoe after i trashed my kyrie 7 and infinity but i didnt like the fit being 0.5 size down. Traction is the same as the son of flash as it’s amazing on outdoors and rubberized courts. Cushion isnt very plush underfoot but its low to the ground and responsive, impact protection does makes me sluggish after more then 2 hours and makes me sore the next day, but great for outdoor players.
Result: A
Why Not 0.3 SE:(US9.5) go down 0.5 Usage: 10+ hours Tech: forefoot zoom turbo and phylon midsole Performance: This is one of the worse shoes I’ve tried. They are pretty stable and make me play fast but you need to have perfect body control to always land on your forefoot because the phylon at the back doesn’t absorb shit and you FEEL it in your knees when you land. Traction is decent outdoors but I wouldn’t use it outdoors, only rubberised courts and indoor, maybe light pickup to have fun, definitely not 4v4 half court or 5v5 full court. Fit is my favourite part of the shoe, wide foot friendly and super comfortable, materials are good too.
C+
WKB kobe 6(US9.5) TTS Usage:100+ hours on rubberized, outdoors and wooden courts. Tech: Zoom turbo in the forefoot and zoom unit in the heel, cushlon midsole Performance: These are my second favourite shoe, definitely will get more pairs once these completely die out. Traction is insane, no squeak but sticks and doesn’t collect dust. Cushion is very good also, I never felt sore after the game ever, it doesn’t help your bounce because it’s more like subtle in how it works. Lockdown and support is good, lateral support is excellent, but materials are stiff and doesn’t feel like retail. Anyone who gets this shoe I’d recommend wearing them around the house and double socking. This shit heats up, and break in time breaks your feet before the shoe breaks in.
Result: A+
Giannis Immortality: (US9) go TTS Usage:50+ hours Tech: phylon midsole Performance: lasted well before the cushion bottomed out, will probably get an insole for all my shoes that have no cushion so I can play in them. Traction is the best part of the shoe, sticks on wood, outdoors, rubberized, better then some of my retails, herringbone works guys. Cushion is decent but hurts my knees, don’t really recommend for anyone above 50 kg without a rotation. Materials is where it sucks, the upper tore in where my foot needs support the most and now I can feel it sometimes slightly tearing the more I play.
Result: D
DF kobe 5: Usage: 10+ hours on outdoor court. Tech: ??? All foam Performance: this is the worse shoe I own. Traction sucked even after cleaning but getting better slightly, cushion was okay for maybe 5 hours on court before it bottomed out, maybe an insole can fix it.
Result: F
Have not tried on Kai 1 or pg 6 but lemme just say Kai 1 is my favourite fitting shoe now, both are extremely comfortable, Kai 1 might be my new game day shoe
Ask any questions!

Description: In the infernal depths of Hell, where it is divided by two powerful continents vying for control surrounded by a circling sea of lava and countless fortresses of beings unknown to the realms--the Magma Depths--young Kaiden Torchspire of House Satan of the Wrathlands finds out about the incoming invasion from the never-mentioned divine realm of Heaven. And so Torchspire decides to take action and goes on an expansive, definitely-long-term quest to unite the two continents so they can finally destroy Heaven. His journey begins with an untold fortress of the Magma Depths. Me, the writer, has always been fond of on the concept of turning real life concepts into a powerful fantasy series, and so, with inspiration from A Song of Ice and Fire I decided to turn Christianity into an epic fantasy universe.
Book #1: The Hellfire War
Chapter One: Blood Oath and Unexpected Visitors
"Our infernal realm is what keeps us going." said the dark-winged figure of dark crimson skin and a heavily-singed leather toga carrying multiple forms of weaponry, coldly. The figure's eyes were a dull dead gray, his pupils etched with a faint red-energy. He had snaky-like hair and both the claws on his bare feet and hands were raven-shaded and extremely sharp. This figure was Dreadwing Satan, of House Satan--the ruling governance of the Wrathlands. Dreadwing was apart of the main family within House Satan--that being Satan, obviously. The ruling house of the Wrathlands is divided by three families: the Satan family, the Lucious family, and the Torchspire family. "And so," began Dreadwing, his voice always consisting an icy and menacing quality, also with a hint of gruffness. "It is what binds the Realm of Torture together. And so, today we are enacting one of the Realm of Torture's most oldest traditions that symbolizes our determination to stand firm and fight against the ongoing flames of damnation and..." While the ruling figure of House Satan kept on going, one of the countless members of the audience--Kaiden Torchspire, of the Torchspire branch of House Satan--was feeling extremely anxious about the upcoming tradition. The Blood Oath.
Kaiden had the ordinary dull dead gray eyes, but his pupils was etched with a faint purple-energy. His raven-shaded slick hair was greasy and dirty, and his crimson skin etched with countless aching bruises--all of that probably coming from his training sessions in his house's fortress' central training room. His claws were a dull pale white, and he was wearing classical tattered demon clothes but had dark-steel shoulder pads. Kaiden's relationship with the Torchspire family always seemed like sort of a curse; since he had to go through endless and rigourous training. But he always thought to himself that he was being ungrateful; since his life was more lucky then then what the lower ranks of demons within the Realm of Torture always had the short-end-of-the-stick.
The Blood Oath was a tradition almost as ancient as Hell itself, maybe it was, but the specific timing of its creation is unknown to the infernal society. The Blood Oath was a special ritual; where they would get countless cups of blood through rigiourous fighting and offer it to the ancient Seven Princes of Hell--the original inhabitance of the infernal realm. And only the ruling Houses of Hell had to participate in this demonic cultural event.
"...And so," began Dreadwing Satan once again. "It is of great pleasure to me and the ruling demons of the Lucious branch and the Torchspire branch of House Satan, that we hereby start the Blood Oath ceremonial line of events by the Night of Stars as usual. A message to the demons of both Lucious origin and Torchspire origin; best of luck in the perils ahead."
To any normal person in the Human World those lasts couple of words would deeply frighten them; but to demons like Kaiden it did not--since it happens every year.
Kaiden sat on his bed-made-for-a-king and laid there for a long time; he only had five days until the Night of Stars--the night that begins the Blood Oath tradition. The Night of Stars was chosen because of its legendary happenings within it; that were the nighttime in the infernal depths of Hell became the exact same appearance as the nights of the Human World; raven-shaded, and filled to the brim with hundreds of thousands of small dots of bright light--stars. The Torchspire youngling got up from his bed and walked out the grand dark-wooden doors that were the entrance and exit of the his bedroom, and shutting them close behind them. It was time for his daily training session. He continued walking through the large halls of the Torchspire fortress to the center room; the Damnation, which was the training room of the fortress. When he reached the large stone doors leading to the Damnation, he opened them up with ease and walked in confidently. Inside the massive training room was countless tactical practice exercises; such as dummies, targets with countless arrows in it, and even some cages that had human souls, where demons would practice torturing; since that was the fundamental task of the Realm of Torture and the original intent for the creation of Hell, at least until the formation of the Refuge Lands. On the right side of the Damnation was tall and slightly-muscular demon; his body of dark crimson, his raven-shaded hair greasy and dirty just like Kaiden's, and had the same exact pale white claws on both his barefeet and hands. He also had the same tattered leather clothes of demons, but were less tattered since he hasn't been as much training sessions after those new clothes were made. And he wore hard-steel shoulder pads similar to Kaiden's. This demonic figure was Kaiden's older brother; Domino Torchspire. He was also his partner-in-training. Kaiden walked towards the older Torchspire and when he reached him, Domino turned around and grinned as he saw his younger brother. Kaiden could see his gray eyes that were etched with the same faint purple-energy. "You're late, Kai." Shut up, you big oath. Kaiden thought to himself and then grinned. "Well, at least I wasn't too late that our father had to punish me by "means of unjustness."" Kaiden smirkingly remarked, since he was referencing what happened the day before. Domino frowned at his comment. "Shut up, Kaiden. Father would never punish his heir." "Yeah well, we'll see about that-" Kaiden never got to finish that remark when the grand doors of the Damnation flew upon and Kaiden and Domino's father burst in, his skin the casual dark crimson, had tattered leather robes, raven-shaded greasy hair, his claws on his feet and hands a pale white, and his eyes was an unusual dark-gray color, but still had the faint purple energy in his pitch-black pupils. Behind their father--Blackwood Torchspire--was a few dozen demon guards, that were covered in hard-steel armor. Their father turned to them and then began walking towards them, and then began speaking with his casual gruff but cold voice. "Domino, Kaiden, it would seem we have unexpected visitors. It's the Dull." The young and older Torchspire's eyes widened with surprise; since visits from the Dull. Of course, most demons knew of the Dull; they were the main unit of enforcement in the Realm of Torture. Their elite order was founded at the time right after the disappearance of the Seven Princes, and were known throughout the infernal depths as the most capable enforcement team in the Realm of Torture. The Dull are also known for their unparalleled mercilessness and an alarming will to vanquish any being that retaliates and gets in the way of their tasks. But now, presumably, they have come to the fortress of one of the three families of House Satan, one of the ruling governance forces in the Realm of Torture.

Hi, there!
My name is Shay, and I’m going to be honest: I’ve been a freelance writer for the past 7 years trying to fund my dreams of a music career. I’m finally touring across the continent, but my main writing client of 5 years just decided they were retiring.
I’m now unexpectedly struggling, just when I could taste my musical success. I’m determined to not let this be the reason I give up.
I’m looking for a new client (either long-term or short-term) looking for an experienced writer who really cares about their goals.
A bit about me:

• I’m a native English speaker
  
• Experienced in SEO/Surfer, WordPress, and more
  
• I pride myself in my attention to detail AND quick turnaround time
  
• My clients have all been with me for at least 3 years. I have a 100% success rate on a certain freelance platform as well, if you’d like clear references
  
• I’m available at any time for revisions
  

Here are a few of my articles:
1. Best Beach Wheelchairs
2. 18 Best Dutch Bros Drinks
3. Best Mario Kart Tours in Tokyo
Please feel free to DM me with any questions you may have!
My rates start at $0.09/word but willing to be flexible.
Thank you so much for your time, and I hope to chat with you soon! Shay

We are in the process of selling our house. It has been on the market for a while and we have now exited the option period. The buyer originally asked that we remove the hottub, which I accepted and asked my regular contractor to give me a quote. I told him to hold off in scheduling anything before I talk with my agent and that'd I'd call him back. The hot has wooden stairs and a deck around it. The buyer then changed their mind and wanted to keep the hottub. This was all Saturday night.
Today, he called me telling me they were in the process of removing the deck around the hot tub. I told him to stop immediately and he told me they would have it all put back together by Friday.
Tonight, he just called me and asked me what we are going to do about this mess. He proceeds to tell me he's about to eat a huge cost for paying his guys and purchasing the wood. He's asked me to pay the original quote yo remove the hottub so that he doesn't eat the entire cost.
He has done many jobs for me and has always done me right. He's never made a mistake on any job before and now we are in a tough spot.
I'm worried about telling him I don't want to pay for his mistake because then he could just not fix it. Aside from that, ive come to consider this man a friend and dont want him to end up struggling. Even if I have to take him to court (which I really hope it wouldn't come to that), I would end up either losing the buyer or having to REALLY eat some shit.
What do I do here?

Hi, there!
My name is Shay, and I’m going to be honest: I’ve been a freelance writer for the past 7 years trying to fund my dreams of a music career. I’m finally touring across the continent, but my main writing client of 5 years just decided they were retiring.
I’m now unexpectedly struggling, just when I could taste my musical success. I’m determined to not let this be the reason I give up.
I’m looking for a new client (either long-term or short-term) looking for an experienced writer who really cares about their goals.
A bit about me:

• I’m a native English speaker
  
• Experienced in SEO/Surfer, WordPress, and more
  
• I pride myself in my attention to detail AND quick turnaround time
  
• My clients have all been with me for at least 3 years. I have a 100% success rate on a certain freelance platform as well, if you’d like clear references
  
• I’m available at any time for revisions
  

Here are a few of my articles:
1. Best Beach Wheelchairs
2. 18 Best Dutch Bros Drinks
3. Best Mario Kart Tours in Tokyo
Please feel free to DM me with any questions you may have!
Thank you so much for your time, and I hope to chat with you soon! Shay

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.

1. Do not go too far underground or there is the nether or the deep 1.1 Do not exceed personal ability limit for the wargame 1.1.1 Do not allow X-Rays or too much high frequency into the signal 1.1.2 Do not allow Mutagens or too much Bass in the signal 1.1.3 Do not allow fire unless specifically working with fire 1.1.4 Do not exceed cost limit 5000 actual barrel cost for barrel to item limit 1.1.5 Do not exceed 2 knots at a time in a blueprint or mutagen will form 1.1.6 Do not exceed 1 pass a time in a blueprint or mutagen will form 1.1.7 (Our Foundry Specific) Do not Exceed 100 points of cost detail 1.1.8 Do not exceed 1 point of cost offset overflow 1.1.9 To not underflow 1 point of cost offset overflow 1.2.1 Do not combine source besides with metal 1.2.2 Do not combine motion except with a hydrogen range 1.2.3 Do not combine weed except with motion 1.2.4 Do not use small lettering or large lettering any letters besides standard -33 MID set 1.2.5 Do not create aurora and create quality assurance to avoid aurora 1.2.6 Do not output liquid or gas products except liquid product for a medicine or food 1.2.7 Do not exceed 0 nominal (infinity) at sample or a gas explosion will form, even if secret but you may exceed this outside a sample if the total sample global output does not exceed 0 nominal 1.2.8 Take only exact reference measurement at known measurement point 1.2.9 Do not exceed 3 or 4 acts of alkenation 1.3.0 Do not exceed 1 minor act of hydrogenation in a hydrogen synthesis 1.3.1 Do not exceed 2 points of hydrogenation in a core synthesis 1.3.2 Do not exceed 5 points of diolation ever 1.3.3 Do not use tropane or higher frequency 1.3.4 Make sure the signal is pure of heavy metal 1.3.5 Make sure the signal is pure of vaseline 1.3.6 Make sure the signal is pure of methanol and isopropanol and ethanol 1.3.7 Make sure the signal exhibits known food attribute source minisulfur starch sugar hydrogen alkene (edibles, 1/2 diol) for a sugar and does not variate between starch and sugar molecularly or it will be oxiracetam 1.3.8 Make sure in another method that the signal exhibits minisource and minisulfur nutraloaf and starch and hydrogen and alkene (vinegar oil, diol) for a lipid synthesis 1.3.9 Make sure that the synthesis exhibits reference pure source hydrogen alkene in the EDTA/Tianeptine Synthesis 1.4.0 Make sure that the synthesis exhibits hydrogen in an acid synthesis 1.4.1 Make sure that the hydrogenation is not excessive for a hydrochloride synthesis 1.4.2 Make sure that the substance exhibits minisource and sulfur and starch and pepsi-cola and alkene for a chlorophyll synthesis 1.4.3 A computer synthesis does not use the hydrogen romanaj set starch=LED1 sugar=LED2 sweet=LED3 Hydrogen=Hydrogen but hydrogen is not used 1.4.4 A computer synthesis exhibits chassis metal with aerated LEDX,LEDY,(LEDZ) offset chassis paired with at least detectable gold at every LED and two of these LED assembly at least at phase octavver and maybe 3 or 4 assembly total, with a battery in the chassis and a rear chassis without the battery of the same structure of the initial chassis all made from a cohesive resource 1.4.5 A computer sells for reasonable around 1000 dollars or some crypto 1.4.6 A computer comes with an associated online parts kit or actual parts kit which can be used to modify the process function of the CPU (Finder) 1.4.7 A computer can be overclocked by amplifying its LED microoffset fidelity for its core clock phase 1.4.8 A computer accesses a real item by the blueprint and these are certified at least fully functional 1.4.9 A computer references a particular item from the blueprint or has its direct function encoded directly in the token (blueprint either yields unlock item or the blueprint yields the item from what is in the blueprint) 1.5.0 A computer is the portable computer if it is the tablet token and the RGB computer if it is the full represented.

Is there any mod that shows you the area where boss is?
I don't want to go near Sanitar again. Especially his guards, they throw nades like NBA players. And even sometimes they shoot you through wooden fences.
If I know certain location I would like to snipe em from distance.

All items are FIRM in price and include shipping!
Will take $5 off each additional item purchased (Certain items including consoles or multi disk ps1 titles may may not be included depending on heaviness or other factors. Just check in with me and I'll lyk)
Everything is tested and fully working unless stated otherwise!!!
Consoles

• $65 Glacier GBA Console (No battery back. Fully Functional) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/pR09ZkR844
  
• $55 Pink Ds Lite With Charger & Stylus (Charger not pictured but is official charger) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/1NQ8NTdT48
  
• $75 Black & Blue 2ds With Charger & Stylus (Rubber piece off thumbstick is starting to come undone a bit. No other issues besides that https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/m1717w87q1
  
• $160 Psp Go With Charger (Has Games Like Smash Bros Remix, Dragon Ball Z Kart (MK64 Mod) Marvel Vs Capcom etc Downloaded https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/YQ1DY4bUHn
  

Nes

• $10 Dr Mario https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/7aac94p9ZC

N64

• $10 NBA Live 99 & Madden 99 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/2f0E0tmDW7
  
• $35 Snowboard Kids https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/u6eHE9s78r
  

Gamecube

• $65 Mario Kart Double Dash https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/S2g96oe1w0

Wii

• $25 Nsmb Wii (No Manual) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/7toGYT0H2b
  
• $65 The Last Story https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/4b42hBVt58
  
• $30 Wii Sports Resort https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/K9R2Km830C
  

Nintendo Switch

• $60 Dragon Quest Builders https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/D5o3BXi8uN
  
• $15 Lego Marvel Superheroes 2 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/718w61Mj35
  
• $12 Mario Rabbids Kingdom Battle (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/97H5VuF05U
  
• $15 Monster Hunter Rise (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/rQGdihP21d
  
• $45 One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/yHd71a181E
  
• $15 Power Rangers Battle For The Grid (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/04985Q3muM
  
• $15 Shin Megami Tensei III https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/oUy8s1A3EH
  
• $18 Splatoon 2 (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/3bL9802185
  
• $35 Super Mario Odyssey https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/21z812752
  
• $160 The Caligula Effect Overdose Limited Edition https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/01r838h8AN
  
• $35 The Caligula Effect 2 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/4139f2N1za
  
• $20 Tony Hawk Pro Skater 1&2 (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/RD25gsv24X
  

Gameboy/GBC

• $8 Baseball Gameboy https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/L2ZgZA6FFT
  
• $30 Donkey Kong Original https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/DU922X9N9o
  
• $10 Dr Mario https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/4N529zHrQ4
  
• $10 Game & Watch Gallery 3 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/0eA9pugB3N
  
• $15 Kirby's Pinball Land https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/L4d5i51505
  
• $10 NBA Jam https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/03E98S2x1G
  
• $9 Super Battletank https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/HpgH03N5b3
  

Gba

• $8 Beyblade V Force https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/979xoDmznt
  
• $20 Mega Man Battle Network 6 Gregar https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/u24M309011
  
• $8 Midnight Club https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/t14E845101
  
• $8 SpongeBob Lights Camera Pants https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/80s1f8AzbZ
  
• $9 The Legend of Spyro A New Beginning https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/vgiLX1PbM4
  

Ds

• $12 Diddy Kong Racing Ds Cart Only https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/73een4611n
  
• $17 Donkey Kong Jungle Climber (Cart Only) https://flic.kp/2pFKJBC
  
• $30 Dragon Ball Origins (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/7wegJ7e521
  
• $20 Pokemon Ranger (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/966M2Nq008
  
• $50 Pokemon Ranger Shadows of Almia https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/352Nr0sB11
  
• $60 Pokemon Ranger Guardian Signs https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/85Py743651
  
• $23 Yugioh World Championship 2010 (Cart Only) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/ES6M3EU63H
  

3ds

• $13 Monster Hunter Generations https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/6dU1Hp5fqZ
  
• $23 Paper Mario Sticker Star https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/n0k7114c39
  
• $28 Pokemon Rumble Blast https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/o70w85W562
  

Dreamcast

• $35 House of The Dead 2 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/QTcpXUH2E2

Ps1

• $40 Intelligent Cube https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/08WAo10hs7
  
• $80 Street Fighter EX2 Plus https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/WB8K9pi0pz
  

Ps2

• $890 Kuon https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/oZaZesy159
  
• $650 Rule of Rose https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/93529vA82m
  
• $15 Final Fantasy Dirge Of Cerberus Disk Only https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/ri45672o13
  
• $25 Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy (No Manual) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/yeFRq7i594
  
• $15 Star Trek Voyager Elite Force https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/Bvt8PZDh25
  
• $45 Stella Deus ( No Manual ) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/6nP8624KJV
  

Ps3

• $15 Ultimate Marvel Vs Capcom 3 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/a338Q48jrT

Ps4

• $9 Destiny 1 & 2 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/732e891951
  
• $9 Dragon Ball Xenoverse https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/PVdW62T41a
  
• $15 Guitar Hero Live https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/2062ThPftv
  
• $9 Plants Vs Zombies Garden Warfare 2 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/U1mp6Rqbam
  
• $8 Star Wars Battlefront https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/9U5e2H27J3
  

Psp (All Umd Only)

• $10 Lego Star Wars Ep 2 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/4Md1R76T11
  
• $30 Manhunt 2 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/hT7fJ04535
  

Vita

• $15 Final Fantasy X/X-2 Cart Only https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/0Sw1EY335N

Xbox

• $10 Tony Hawk Pro Skater 4 https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/H90x348647
  
• $20 Voodoo Vince https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/4hT7S6940n
  

Xbox 360 (Some have manuals, some don't. Pictures will show)

• $35 Sealed Ace Combat 6 (Game is sealed however there is a slit in the wrapper down the middle plus another piece next to it that is peeling off/can be pulled back) https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/V3yW975G1H
  
• $45 Blue Dragon bit of sun fading https://www.flickr.com/photos/193718836@N02/shares/8Z6Ts0sp82
  

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."