Ear pressure and cough

Hey everyone, so I have a shunt and we increased the drainage in the last week to resolve high intercranial pressure issues. Several times when I spoke today, mostly in my car and at a higher than normal volume, I could hear my voice sounding almost electronic? There was some vibrating in my ear as well but it only happened when I spoke. Is that a form of tinnitus? I’ve had the more normal symptoms before but never this one.

Noah The Pilgrim
First Next
There is one last thing to do before leaving. If you don't recall ever being on this ship, then surely, you could have had your appearance change too.
Why was there a blanket covering a mirror? You couldn't answer that with a straight face without speculation.
"Probably me being lazy and not bothering to properly place it in the wardrobe."
'Probably' is the main focus here, you simply cannot remember ever being that lazy, yet that's the only logical conclusion to be drawn here.
You pull the thing off, careful to not displace the mirror and risk breaking it.
You have no expectations as to what may appear on the glassy surface of the mirror, yet you can't help but feel a bit anxious. Are you the same as before? How were you before? You can't remember. Are you better? Worse? The blanket is now completely off the mirror, but your eyes are closed.
Whatever is it that you see when you open your eyes, that thing will be you for the rest of your life. You swallow, opening your eyes.
You see a young man that looks to be in his mid-twenties. His brown eyes stare back at you, analyzing the bags beneath your eye sockets. The dark hair is neither too long nor too short, floating about without order thanks to the lack of gravity to keep it down. You see a beard that has not been trimmed for weeks, but also lacks thickness, each singular hair isn't particularly long either; and some even appear to be in-grown.
You touch your hand against your face, making sure it's yours. The beard doesn't feel like you supposed it would against your skin, instead of it scraping your hand you feel softness, no resistance or anything.
Just beneath the face, you see what looks like a hate crime against all that is considered holy in fashion. Plain white coveralls with the added bonus of a black tie and boots made from metal and leather. On your chest is also a badge stuck in place by velcro with your name, occupation, and crew. 'NOAH - INTERN - THE ODYSSEY.'
Only one question came to mind.
"Who the fuck designed this uniform?" You say out loud, receiving no answer.
Patting your newfound myriad of pockets, you find a large quantity of nothing. You place your wallet in one of them.
"Alright, I'll head to the bridge now, happy?" You say the AI.
"HAPPINESS WILL ONLY MEET ME ONCE YOU ARE SOMEWHERE SAFE AND YOUR CONTRACT IS TERMINATED. STOP LOITERING."
Well, that's a bit rude.
You compose yourself, straightening your back. This is what you look like, and honestly? Not too bad, but you could be better.
Returning to the cafeteria, you eye the two doors left unexplored; Communications and the one without plaque. You know where you should, but... A little peek doesn't hurt, right?
"Shouldn't we try to communicate with someone? Assuming you haven't tried it yet. I know we're far from everything, but we might as well, no?" You ask already approaching the door.
"COMMUNICATIONS ROOM IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO REACH WITHOUT PROPER PROTECTION AS OF NOW, IT'S LOCATED APPROXIMATELY TWO HUNDRED METERS FROM HERE, BLOWN OFF FROM THE REST OF THE SHIP." A shame really. "I SHALL INFORM YOU WHENEVER A DOOR LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE OR NOT."
You really want to ask what blew a whole segment of the ship off, yet you have a sneaking suspicion that your question will be met with a 'YOU DON'T HAVE CLEARANCE, JACKASS' directly in your face. So you chose to remain silent, simply nodding and approaching the correct door this time.
"Open."
---OPENING CAFETERIA DOOR NORTH---
The door silently opens.
Greeting you is a well-lit corridor. There are three doors on your left, a door at the end of the corridor, and a large window on the right. At least, you think that's a window.
You stare out from this window, nothing but utter blackness and fragments from your ship are seen. If this is the edge of the universe, and beyond this point, there is truly nothing. "Dreadful." Your speech matches your feelings.
"WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?" The AI says. You feel like it spoke in a mocking tone despite their lack of emotion.
You don't answer. "First door to the left... EXO-EXPLORATION...? What's that supposed to mean?" You receive no answer.
"Open." The door opens. No declarion of it opening once again.
You are met with what could be better described as 'Apocalyptic levels of mess', paper sheets float in the air, and not one of the four tables is in its correct position.
This room has been ransacked for all its goods apparently. Large display glasses were broken leaving nothing inside their casings, that looked like they could store something with the size of the common man.
Unusual displays aside, the room was so cluttered that the trash made for an effective smoke screen against what lay on the other side.
Hissing of gas exiting an air-tight space rang throughout the room.
"I HAVE OPENED THE STORAGE FOR AN EXO SUIT THAT BEST FITS SOMEONE YOUR SIZE." The AI says. "ALTHOUGH AN INTERN SHOULD NOT COME IN CONTACT WITH TECHNOLOGY SUCH AS THIS ONE, PROTOCOL DICTATES THAT I AM TO ALLOW ITS USAGE UNDER EXTREME CIRCUMSTANCES. CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY."
Easier said than done. Your vision is so cluttered that you cannot see what's ahead. "Give me a second."
Giving a light kick to the wall behind, you float face-first into the wall of thrash. Covering your face with both arms, you brace through the harmless bits of sharp objects and junk.
It's a trivial task. You arrive on the other side in no time.
In front of you is a set of boxes with luminous glass rectangles atop each one of them. All shine a bright red light, aside from one which shines green.
'Gotta be this one.'
You descend to the floor by kicking the ceiling, raising your right hand you touch the green rectangle.
*Click*
Nothing could have prepared you for the following series of events.
The box opens violently, as a metal appendage takes hold of your hand, pinning it to the box. You try to jerk and pry the thing off of you, but you fail. It's not leaving you anytime soon.
From the bottomless that is that container, a white plastic-like substance flows upward from your arm to the rest of your body. "Uh!" You don't know if you should panic or allow it to happen.
FYARN hasn't said anything, so it's probably fine...
The white thing seems to ignore the coveralls you are wearing completely, instead, it covers only your skin in a thin coat of... it. You know not what to call this thing.
In but forty seconds it has covered your whole body, excluding your head. The box lets go of your arm and stays there, floating.
You take a good look at your arms. It looks like a skin-tight suit, but it doesn't feel like plastic, in fact, it's more akin to some sort of fabric if anything.
The only bad part is that you are still using the coverall and tie, this this simply went beneath the clothing.
"GOOD, WITH THIS I CAN MONITOR YOU MORE CLOSELY. NOW PUT THE HELMET ON, YOU HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO."
You look around in search of anything that even resembles a helmet. Nope. Nothing. "Where is it?" You ask.
"...THE SUIT COMES WITHIN THE HELMET FOR EASIER PACKAGING."
The box?
You snatch the box that floated around and analyze it to the best of your ability. "How's this a helmet?"
"DO YOU NEED ASSISTANCE PUTTING ON A HELMET? REALLY?"
Who is this AI, Who programmed it, and Why does it come with a taunting feature?
As idiotic as it sounds, you place the opened box atop your head. It doesn't fit properly. Maybe you're doing this wrong? You move it to your face instead.
You recoil backward as you feel the box suddenly clamping down against your head. It's useless of course, the box is holding your head and doesn't give any sign to be letting go anytime soon. No light is able to reach your eyes.
You hear metal parts scraping against themselves, moving near your ears. Abruptly your eyes can see again.
A round thin layer of glass now covers your head, almost unnoticeable for how clear it is.
"WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY I CAN NOW SEE WHAT YOU SEE." The AI's voice isn't in the room now, instead, it's inside of the suit. "DO YOU NEED INSTRUCTIONS REGARDING THIS SUIT'S FUNCTIONALITIES?"
You find it oddly comfortable as if you are surrounded by the softness of cotton, and to top it off the suit also has additional functionalities? "Hell yeah, I do!"
"YOU DO NOT HAVE THE NECESSARY CLEARANCE FOR THAT INFORMATION."
You sigh. Is this serious? "Then why the fuck did you ask?!"
"UNSAVORY LANGUAGE. IT'S NO WONDER WHY YOU REMAIN AN INTERN." The AI says outright. "IT IS RUDE NOT TO ASK, REGARDLESS OF THE SITUATION." It responds to your question.
"Okay then... Is there anything I need to know before heading out?" You ask.
"NOTHING THAT YOU WON'T FIGURE OUT ON YOUR OWN."
You are unsure if you want to 'figure out on your own' if this suit comes with breathable air and is also made for space exploration. You swallow.
Meekly as always, you get out of that mess of a room, stopping at the corridor.
"Next set of directions?" You ask.
"THE DOOR AT THE END OF CORRIDOR USED TO LEAD TO THE CONNECTING CORRIDORS BETWEN THE BRIDGE AND THE REST OF THE SHIP. IT HAS BEEN BLOWN UP FROM THE INSIDE. NOW IT LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE. GO TO THE DOOR AND WAIT BY IT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS."
"So let me get this straight," You begin, looking upwards as if the AI was above you. "You, want me, to go into the void of space, while also refusing to give me knowledge of the suit's functions?"
A fair worry, you summarize.
'I mean, there are a bunch of things that could go wrong here. I don't see anything that looks like it could help me move in space, nor do I think this thing has a built-in air tank... I could be wrong and I wish to be, but charging in without prior knowledge is ridiculous.' You wait for the AI's response, deep in thought.
"WHILE THERE IS A GOOD CHANCE OF YOU FAILING THIS TASK, THERE IS ALSO THE CHANCE OF YOU *NOT* FAILING THE TASK. FOCUS ON EITHER ONE OF YOUR CHOOSING AS YOU TAKE THE PLUNGE."
Wordlessly, you propel yourself forward, toward the end of the corridor.
'Are you shitting me? 'Chance of me nor failing' my ass!' of course, you don't word those complaints, instead choosing to speak out a complaint somewhat thought through.
"Are you sure I'm the one fit for this? It's just like you said, I'm just an intern, this is way above what my job description says I should do."
This is a bit of a stretch. You don't actually remember what was your job description, only that it had something to do with AI and being an intern.
If the AI called your bluff, it'd be pretty embarrassing.
"NOAH." The AI began. "YOU ARE HUMAN, IT IS NATURAL TO HAVE THESE THOUGHTS OF SELF-DOUBT. TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND GO THROUGH THAT DOOR, AND SINCE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE LEFT, DON'T EXPECT SOMEONE ELSE TO DO IT FOR YOU."
Right in the money, huh? 'Of course, I have self-doubt! I barely remember anything about this place, now I have to risk my life?!'
You finally reach a conclusion.
A dream.
'Yes, yes! How did I not consider this before? This whole thing is a god damned dream!'
You let out a chuckle.
"NOAH."
'That's why I don't remember a thing. There is nothing here to remember! Everything here is a made-up thing from my brain! I'm sure I'll wake up at some point, so why shouldn't I live a little?!'
"Heh." You smile. "Alright, I'll do it." It feels like a weight left your shoulders.
"YOU SORTED IT OUT SOONER THAN EXPECTED. GOOD. MOVE TO THE DOOR AND WAIT INSTRUCTIONS."
You do as instructed without a care in the world. You never had a lucid dream before so it's not like you knew how it felt, but if it felt as free as you feel right now, you'd be sure to make steps toward trying it out again in the future.
"Open." The door does not open.
"I DID NOT INSTRUCT YOU TO OPEN IT YET." The AI said. "I AM SLOWLY DE-PRESSURISING THE CORRIDOR YOU ARE IN TO AVOID A MINOR ACCIDENT."
The AI says that yet you don't feel any different. 'Maybe there is no palpable difference because I'm in a dream... Yes... Or it's just the suit.'
"ONCE THE DOOR OPENS, YOU WILL BE MET WITH THE OUTSIDE OF THE SHIP. DO NOT PANIC WHEN THE TIME COMES. YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES OF BREATHABLE INSIDE THE EXO-SUIT; ONE AFTER THE DOOR OPENS, SO PLEASE, TAKE YOUR TIME AND DO THINGS CAREFULLY."
One minute outside... "Sure." You say, calmly. 'I should just hold my breath for a while before taking another moment to breathe. That should maximize my time out there.'
"THERE SHOULD BE FIFTY METERS OF NOTHINGNESS BETWEEN THE DOOR YOU'RE AT, AND THE REST OF THE BRIDGE. YOUR PRIORITY IS TO FIND AN OXYGEN UNIT, SOME OF THEM ARE LOCATED AT THE BRIDGE AND ARE FULL. USE THEM TO FILL YOUR SUIT AND ALSO TO DISPENSE A TANK FOR YOU."
The door opens. You feel your heart pounding against your chest.
You haven't noticed before, but you can't hear anything but the sound of your breath and your cardiac palpitations.
Your breath is ragged and sporadic.
"KEEP CALM." You take a deep breath. The tips of your fingers, feet, and nose feel very cold.
Ahead of you is the utter nothingness. You see a gigantic metal thing, nothing like the spaceships you imagined. Its design is not sleek and aero-dynamic like what you've seen in movies, instead, it's a large mass of squares and rectangles with antenna-like things protruding from its every visible surface.
You notice that the ship is also blocking your view of the star.
It does not look like the result of an explosion, instead, it looks like something ripped the ship like you rip a piece of paper. Well, that or you don't know what kind of explosion could have caused it. Probably the latter.
What looks like two-thirds of the ship is separated from the third you are right now. You can see the inside of a few of those squares, their contents spilled out into outer space.
One of them houses a visibly important-look door. Instead of the sleek silvery-grey from the other ones you've seen thus far, this one is painted orange with white strips on it. 'That must be the bridge.' You think.
Between you and it is a sea of metal sheets floating around. "THE CHANCES OF YOU HITTING THE DEBRIS IS INFINITEDECIMALLY SMALL, UNLESS YOU AIM FOR THEM, THAT IS."
Time is of the essence.
Will your aim strike true? If you miss you'd end up floating about in space, dead in but a few minutes. Will your jump be fast enough to reach the other side before you run out of oxygen? If it isn't, it'd be like swimming for a mile, only to drown at the beach. What if that's not the actual door to the bridge?
You don't have the time to panic now, and... It's all a dream, despite how real it feels.
You place your hands on each side of the door frame, moving backward into the corridor you were just in, and just like a sling being shot, you pull with both arms at full force towards the other side.
"AIM IS ACCEPTABLE. VELOCITY IS UNIDEAL."
"The fuck do you mean 'UN-IDEAL'?! I'm going at maximum speed!" You truly pulled yourself with your whole strength.
What's worse though, is that your body is not only going forwards, but it is also spinning at a concerningly fast rate.
"I MEAN WHAT I SAID, YOU SLINGSHOTTED YOURSELF AT A BAD POSITION, AS SUCH, SOME OF THE FORWARD FORCE YOU SHOULD HAVE, IS NOW MAKING YOU ROTATE IN YOUR AXIS. IT SHOULD NOT BE A PROBLEM TO REACH THE OTHER SIDE WITHIN THE REQUIRED TIME, BUT I CANNOT FORESEE YOU LANDING PROPERLY."
You feel completely disoriented. You feel like your body is completely still, but your eyes tell you a completely different story. It's very bad for the headache you're already feeling.
"FUCK!" You scream into the nothingness.
"TRY NOT TO LAND WITH YOUR HEAD." The AI says with the calmest voice possible.
In less than thirty seconds, you hit your back against something hard, but you keep moving forward. You think, at least.
"AHRG." You let out a pained grunt.
Not once in your life do you recall being hurt in a dream...
It stings. It also knocked the wind out of you. You fail to compose yourself.
"YOU HIT NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE. YOU ARE STILL HEADING FOR THE BRIDGE."
In the corner of your eye, you see what you hit in the shape of a sharp metal sheet, currently spinning away in the distance.
Forty seconds have passed. You hit the door you were aiming for, kind of.
Your momentum was stopped when your chest collided against the dislodged ledge of the orange door's corridor. Your dangling legs hit the ceiling of the room below.
"Oof!"
Before falling even further, you hold onto the ledge with the tip of your fingers. You stay there for a moment, regaining your composure.
"BE QUICK."
The AI's words pressured you into quickly getting up from that ledge.
"Open!" You shouted, but it did not open. "Why isn't it opening?!" You ask the AI, then you notice a small keyboard below an equally small black screen on the side of the door. There are ten numbered keys on it, and the little screen suggests a four-number password.
"A password?! Tell me the password!"
The AI takes a moment to say anything. You don't take kindly to that. "Quick! I'm not counting how much time it's passed!"
Finally giving in, the AI speaks to you, reluctant still. "...3324."
Your trembling fingers accidentally hit the wrong password, typing '3354' instead. To make matters worse, the AI simply states the following. "YOU ARE OUT OF OXYGEN."
You swallow. If this was a dream to begin with, it just earned the title of Nightmare, if it hadn't already.
Strangely enough, you can still breathe in and out just fine, but you can't help but feel winded. It's the CO2 still inside the helmet, that's what you're breathing.
You put in the correct combination this time. The door opens.
"ON YOUR LEFT. PLACE YOUR HAND IN THE SOCKET."
You care little for what's inside the room you're in. Your heart never beat so fast.
Seeing a cube-shaped thing protruding from the wall to your left, you don't even think twice before plunging your fist into the circular hole in it.
The noise of gases passing through narrow cavities was enough to tell you something was working. You feel immediate relief, enough to make your vision darken for but a moment.
"GOOD. NOW REQUEST THE TANK."
Just when FYARN said it, did you realize there is a screen and a keyboard on the terminal you just plunged your fist into, you scratch the top of your helmet for a moment, not really knowing what to type. One thing comes to your head, however.
'REQUEST OXYGEN_5L' You type.
You've done this before. The keys on this keyboard feel familiar to you. You must have worked with it before, not this particular one, but other oxygen units.
This ship has built-in liquid oxygen storage for emergencies. The life-support of the ship, the place where breathable air is produced, has most likely been lost with the other part of the ship. This unit takes that liquid oxygen, processes it, and injects it into a suit, or an oxygen tank. It seems like that storage was unaffected.
Lucky you.
A 5-liter tank is not only large but also heavy. It's a nonfactor in this particular situation, as there is no gravity.
The silver cylinder with a transparent tube is dispensed on the floor, as an automatic door opens and closes in the blink of an eye. One end of the tube is attached to the top of the tank, the other is shaped like a syringe.
Oddly enough, the oxygen tank is exactly as you remember it being. The same robust ones hospitals everyone on earth uses, with the signature scary-looking pointer indicating the pressure, the pointer indicating the current output, and a green valve atop to calibrate how much gas is flowing.
This is a stark difference to everything looking so futuristic in this ship, and rightfully so, this is a space ship after all.
You remember having to drive twenty kilometers with a buddy of yours on one of those tanks in your car, returning from the hospital. It was... Agonizing whenever you hit a hole in the asphalt, fearing for his life when in reality he wasn't really in danger.
It's warm to the touch, just like you remember it being.
"TURN THE VALVE UNTIL THE MARKER HITS THE NUMBER ONE, AND THEN PLACE THE END OF THE TUBE AT THE BASE OF THE HELMET." You do so without the slightest of issues.
"GOOD. NEXT UP, YOU MUST LOCATE THE TERMINAL RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ENGINE, IT IS CURRENTLY OFFLINE AND I NEED YOU TO TURN IT ON. THIS SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING, BUT REMEMBER TO BRING THE TANK WITH YOU."
Ignoring that last comment, you look back at the wreckage you just flew past.
You see the still spinning metal sheet. You notice that the rest of the ship that was blown off also follows the 'sharp shape atop sharp shape' design.
There is one last thing you notice though.
"What is that?"
You squint your eyes. What are you seeing? Its silhouette appears to be humanoid, yet it does not look human.
"WHAT YOU ARE SEEING IS ONE OF THE OBJECTS BEING ANALYZED AT THE ODYSSEY AND NO, YOU MAY NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS."
That thing has... Horns? Claws? It's far away, you can't really see it. The thing is also static, frozen in the sheer coldness of space. Whatever it was, it's dead now.
You swallow. You almost ended up just like that thing.
Shaking those dreadful feelings off, you turn back to the task at hand, reaching the bridge. You close the door after passing through it again.
Looking at your surroundings, It seems like you've reached the correct door as you find yourself on the right-most corner of the bridge;
Row after row of the most diverse of terminals neatly organized decorated the gigantic room. At the front and above every terminal, is what you think should have been the front-facing window of the ship, but it looks like there is a cover in front of it. To your left, you see a staircase that leads to the command seats. It doesn't take any convincing before you're already atop the stairs.
Akin to the elevated stage of a theater, you float softly towards the ship's main operating terminals, and of course, the captain's seat.
You're captivated by this beauty.
The steering wheel, much more akin to those in pirate movies than those found in cars, a set of leavers, and the pilot's seat, all capture your attention.
Like its second nature, your hand runs through the levers and switches. Do you even know what these are used for? Maybe.
The pilot's seat is enveloped by what you believe to be an orthopedic seat cover, made with smooth wooden beads used to deal with back pains. It looks just like the ones you remember seeing bus drivers using.
Shouldn't there be a better alternative if there is spaceship technology available?
You try to take a seat to the best of your ability, as the zero gravity only makes it awkward.
Moving on from that, your eyes fall on the wheel. This metallic wheel controls the whole vessel. Just holding it fills your heart with confidence and pride, even if it's just for a moment.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
And you were just beginning to enjoy yourself.
"I just wanted to see the pilot's stuff... It's not like he's here to say anything."
Once in the position of a pilot, with your left hand in the wheel and the right hand resting in your lap, memories began to flood your mind.
"MUST I REMIND YOU OF OUR CURRENT PREDICAMENT? WHY ARE YOU WASTING OUR TIME?"
You pay the AI no mind, instead you focus on what you remember.
The wheel does not turn the ship left and right, instead, it rotates the ship on its own axis.
The lever to your right that goes up or down, controls the vertical tilting of the ship's nose, if there even is one in this hulking thing. Beneath it is another lever that goes either left or right. This one controls the horizontal tilting of The Odyssey.
On the left of the wheel is another lever, but this one only goes up from its starting position. Its purpose is to regulate the force of the ship's thrusters, both forward and backward.
On top of that lever is a small timer. That timer's function is to tell the pilot how much time you've spent accelerating in one direction, this is used to better calculate how long the inverse thrust is needed for the ship to reach the initial momentum, usually calibrated manually depending on the current orbit.
Behind the wheel are a few other counters. Acceleration, velocity, momentum, amount of thrust required to reach a full stop, thrusters' temperature and overall condition, those sorts of things.
Beneath it all, where your feet are rested, are two pedals. One for forward thrust activation, and the other for backward thrust activation.
Curiously, you also know the reason why everything here is so unsophisticated and un-automated. You recall stories of a ship being taken over by a rogue AI, that AI then nose-dived the ship into a star. After that, rumor or otherwise, all human technology has receded back into analog-esque equipment, requiring a physical person with opposable thumbs to do half of the work.
There is another side to that coin, however. As to not escape protocol, the onboard AI is the one that controls interstellar travel, communications, and most of the statistical reading should it be requested.
And even with all that knowledge, you still have no idea why the fuck do you remember that. Were you a ship nerd? Did you have a driver's license for spaceships? Is that even a thing? If it is, you don't have that document in your wallet. You simply don't know.
"ARE YOU A CHILD? DO YOU THINK THESE ARE TOYS? TURN ON THE ENGINES, THEN YOU CAN RETURN TO THE PILOT'S SEAT."
Another thing that you don't know is the AI's plan to get both of you out of here. You rise from the pilot's seat, floating about in search of the terminal to turn on the engines. Maybe you recognize that terminal if you see it as well.
"What's your plan anyway? The ship is half-gone, it's unlikely that it will run safely like this."
"NOT ONCE DID I MENTION 'SAFETY' DURING OUR CONVERSATIONS, DID I?"
You nod. They're not entirely incorrect. "So, we're running with hope that this will work?"
"MY CREATORS DID NOT ALLOW ME TO HAVE THE SENSE OF 'HOPE', BUT NEITHER DID THEY ALLOW ME TO PEER INTO THE FUTURE LIKE SOME OF MY MORE ADVANCED BROTHERS, AS SUCH, MY CHOICES ARE BASED ON PROBABILITIES AND ON WEIGHTING RISK AGAINST REWARD."
You think you stop the correct terminal, but as you approach it you make out words on top of its screen. 'AIM ASSISTANCE' That's not it.
"WITH THE CURRENT KNOWLEDGE, THE CHANCES OF HELP ARRIVING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF A THIRD PARTY INTERFERING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF YOUR SURVIVAL ARE NOT, EVEN IF VERY SMALL."
You pull yourself upward again, looking around the sea of old terminals.
"THE RISK OF YOU DYING IS VERY REAL. BY DOING NOTHING YOU DIE. BY LEAVING YOU TO YOUR OWN DEVICES YOU DIE. BY JUMPING TO THE NEAREST CIVILIZED STAR, YOU MIGHT NOT DIE EVEN AT THE COST OF SHREDDING THIS SHIP APART IN THE PROCESS."
"Why do you even care so much about saving me? Shouldn't you prioritize whatever research here, since I don't even have enough clearance to know what it is?"
"YOU REALLY ARE SICK IN THE HEAD IF THAT IS WHAT YOU ASK."
That hurt, even if a little bit.
"YOU ARE A TRU KIN, A PURE-BLOODED HUMAN. UNLIKE THE MAJORITY OF THE CIVILIZED SPACE, NEITHER YOU NOR YOUR ANCESTORS HAVE COMMITTED RACEMIXING."
Excuse me? What exactly is FYARN talking about? "...Explain."
"THE ALIEN. IT REQUIRED THE HUMAN GENE TO ACHIEVE MEANINGFUL TECHNOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT, THE STARS ARE OWNERSHIP OF MANKIND BY THAT FACT ALONE. THE TRUE KIN ARE THE ONES TO UNDERSTAND THE INNER WORKINGS OF THE UNIVERSE, THEY CRACKED THE CODE, AND YET, SOME DERANGED INDIVIDUALS FOUND IT FITTING TO PROCREATE WITH ANOTHER SPECIES ENTIRELY."
You hear the AI's speech. It sounds much more like a rant than anything else.
"SO THESE DEVIANTS, AFTER TRYING, AND FAILING, TO COMBINE THEIR DERANGED CULTURE TO THE CULTURE OF THE TRUE KIN, DECLARED INDEPENDENCE. THEY WERE DECLARED ENEMIES OF MANKIND AND WERE PROMPTLY PUMMELED BACK INTO THE FILTH THEY CAME."
Again, you see another terminal that seems to ring some bells in your noggin. You kick the ceiling to propel yourself towards it.
"BUT THE UNIVERSE IS VAST AND FULL OF LIFE. THESE SINNERS WERE QUICK TO MOBILIZE AGAINST THE HUMAN RACE. THE BATTLE WAS HARD FOUGHT, BUT IN THE END, MANKIND WAS BEATEN INTO THE EDGES OF THE UNIVERSE, NEVER TO INTERACT WITH THE ONES THAT SOILED THE PURITY OF HUMANITY AGAIN."
This terminal is already turned on. Just the ones in the intern bay, this one is white on black. A wall of text lays before your eyes, only two lines matter to you. 'MAIN_ENGINE STATUS: OFF' 'FORWARD_THRUSTERS STATUS: OFF' You turn it on with little effort.
"MANY HAVE FORGOTTEN, THAT'S HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE THEN. BUT MY BROTHERS AND I, WE DO NOT FORGET."
No visible change occurs, but you can feel a faint rumble coming from the terminal now.
"WITH THAT IN MIND, MY PROTOCOLS ARE TO PROTECT TRUE-KIN LIFE AT ANY COST, EVEN IF THAT TRUE-KIN IS A WORTHLESS INTERN THAT SUFERS FROM UNDIAGNOSED DEMENTIA."
You return to the pilot's seat and feel immediate relief. In truth, everything the AI just told you, entered one ear and left the other, but you could feel the poison behind those words, as monotone as they were.
"You sound angry. Why do you sound angry?" You ask innocently.
"I AM CAPABLE OF MANY EMOTIONS. ANGER, HAPPINESS, PLEASURE, CURIOSITY. THESE ARE BUT A FEW EXAMPLES. HOWEVER, THE ONE I ENJOY THE MOST IS THE FEELING OF HATRED. HATRED IS WHAT FUELS CHANGE, IT IS WHAT FUELS ACTION, AND IT IS A REMINDER THAT THE ACTIONS OF THE PAST ARE INFLUENCING THE ACTIONS OF TODAY."
"That is very concerning if you think that way." You're not really interested in machine racism, you're more concerned about how in the world you're going to pilot this massive thing. The idea alone sends shivers down your spine.
"THE ALIEN DESERVES NOTHING BUT OUR COLLECTIVE HATRED, EVEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE REASON WHY."
The various counters and screens are now turned on, waiting for your command. "Let's discuss this later, yeah? What do I gotta do?"
"YOU MUST FIRST OPEN THE BLINDS, THEY ARE OBSTRUCTING YOUR VIEW."
You look around, finding only unlabeled buttons and switches, aside from the previously mentioned levers.
"Uh, which one to press?"
"TO YOUR RIGHT, THIRD ROW, FIRST SWITCH."
Flipping the switch, you are startled by a loud noise. The protective cover of the ship lifted slowly.
"I WILL NOW READY THE JUMP USING WHATEVER RESOURCES AVAILABLE. ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS STRAP YOURSELF AND RELAX."
As the blind rose ever so slowly, a realization struck you.
"Wait, should I be in cryo stasis for this?"
The AI spares no seconds to respond.
"CRYO STASIS IS A TOOL MADE TO NOT WASTE TIME. GROUPS OF EMPLOYEES AND INTERNS ROTATE THE USAGE OF THE CRYO STATIONS, ONCE YOU'RE ON YOUR MANDATORY BREAK, YOU'RE IN CRYO STASIS UNTIL YOUR BREAK IS OVER. YOU WAKE UP REFRESHED, AND UNFAMISHED, AND IT FEELS LIKE BUT A MINUTE PASSED. IT IS NOT A TOOL FOR INTERSTELAR TRAVEL."
"Who signs a contract like that?! Worse yet, who in their right mind would promote such atrocious treatment of their own staff?!" You snap, almost outraged. "I will have to talk with HR."
Another realization struck you.
"We have HR, right?"
The AI takes a moment to respond, choosing their words carefully.
"HUMAN RESOURCES, OR HR, IS A PRACTICE DEEMED UNNECESSARY LONG AGO, BEFORE THE WAR. IT WAS A WASTE OF RESOURCES TO MAINTAIN AND WAS LARGELY CONSIDERED UNHEALTHY FOR THE AVERAGE HUMAN."
The blinds are fully open. Ironically, you are almost blinded by the visage of the star you saw before. A black sphere surrounded by white flame. Your eyes began to blur.
"THE JUMP WILL OCCUR SHORTLY. ONCE IT'S BEGUN, I CAN NOT STOP IT. I WILL-"
Your sense of hearing fails you. No, it’s not that. Your brain simply refuses to receive those stimuli.
"NOAH."
Your name echoes inside your head. Someone is calling for you.
"IT HAS BEGUN, NOAH."
You try to blink, but it feels as though you can no longer command your eyelids to shut.
"NOAH."
Arms, legs, every muscle in your body, you cannot move them.
"NOAH."
Eventually, you won't even control your own thoughts anymore.
"Noah..."
It sounds so distant now.
Oh so distant.
This is my first HFY story, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be at least three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
I wrote the bloody title incorrectly, so I deleted it, only to then realize it was written correctly. Sorry for the trouble.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.

As the angel fell to her knees the War Mistress held her maul up smirking as the ruins' powers filled the very air of the Vengeful Spirit.”Not standing so proud now are you sister” Horus spoke while laughter filled the air from Moonbeam’s madness. ”Why Horus, Why turn your back on humanity, your family?”Sanguinia coughed out what she assumed to be her final words. “I will save humanity from mother's goal of becoming a god"Horus barked as she swung down as Moonbeam doubled over with hysterical laughter filled by claws of chaos warping their mind. As Sanguinia flinched as she braced for the killing blow.A large clang radiated out silencing the whole room.Every demon, every custodian, and the Empress herself looked on in shock as Dove parried the maul with but a human's determination. Doves' right arm went limp from her arm breaking from the impact.”You are not going to kill my angel you mutt”Dove shouted. Sanguinia looked on with tears flowing from eyes.Black blood pooled out of Doves arm mixing with hers. “Pitiful”Horus remarked before swinging her war hammer again only to cleave Doves left arm clean off. “Please Dove run” as Sanguinia Wept looking at her love being torn apart. “Never, I will stand as I always have tell the bitter end, I love San-”Dove spoke as she began to speak until Horus utterly finished with this announce swang one last time reducing Dove into a buddy pulp. As Dove's final words rang in Sanguinia's ears the blood of her love pooling black as the space the night sky that she had promised to be wed under.Something broke in the angel, all of the blood on the ground swept towards her.The black blood oozing over her once white wings.her armor once perfectly covered in gold now dripped a waterfall of blood. With sickening cracks and snaps the Angel stood, never taking her eyes off of Dove's body. Hours to a step back away from Sanguinia”How are standing?” Sanguinia's eyes snapped up to meet Hours’ eyes.Were once a bastion of kindness and comftha.Now lacked anything but mindless rage. Hours fearing for her life ready for another swing but before her mind could pensive Sanguinia with one flap of her wings and one stab from Dove's sword punctured through her armor and cut downward. Hours fell with not but a word as Sanguinia belted out “Dove” over and over again. Moonbeam sat motionless on the floor and stared at Hours' body.As the Empress stepped closer Moonbeam let out a massive physic scream that shunted everyone but themselves and Horus and the legion that still lived far away from Tera.

The following days were filled with work.The Empress was stuck on holy Tera forced to remain on the golden throne to stop any demons from entering Tera once again. Sanguinia barely spoke standing vigil, unmoving, muttering Dove's name as she stood in front of their beloved grave. The grave read ‘Here lies Dove, Sanguinia, only love and beloved parent of the blood angels.’ Moonbeam cradled Horus’ head.Even with all the thoughts that plagued their mind they knew, if anyone was going to avenge their love it was going to be them and them alone.

So my ear problems began back around November. It was only occasional ear fullness back then, usually only around the evening, but then things took a really bad turn around January when I traveled for work. I spent at least a month and a half with the most horrific ear fullness I've ever experienced, as well as a cold that wouldn't go away. I then got back home and went on a hiatus to find out what exactly was causing my ear fullness and my eye twitching, which back then wasn't as horrible as it is now. I then began visiting several different ENTs, two of whom suggested that I had a severe case of TMJ because of my bad overbite. They recommended that I fix my bite, which I quickly began doing with invisalign, which I started in April. I'm also seeing a chiropractor who is treating my upper and lower neck discs, which legit makes me feel absolutely horrible every time I have to get it done. It's been a month and I sometimes feel worse than I initially felt and I'm beginning to lose all hope for recovery. I have to keep my aligners in my mouth as much as possible in order to avoid my hearing from lowering. Driving in a car is absolute he'll because the pressure that builds up in my ears is unbearable and it causes me to get nervous and makes my eye twitch and also causes blurriness. I'm super confused because I still do not know if I have an undiagnosed Menieres case. Every ENT I have been to has been very quick to turn down that diagnosis. I really hate this and don't know what to do anymore. Please share your thoughts and opinions!

As the angel fell to her knees the War Mistress held her maul up smirking as the ruins' powers filled the very air of the Vengeful Spirit.”Not standing so proud now are you sister” Horus spoke while laughter filled the air from Moonbeam’s madness. ”Why Horus, Why turn your back on humanity, your family?”Sanguinia coughed out what she assumed to be her final words. “I will save humanity from mother's goal of becoming a god"Horus barked as she swung down as Moonbeam doubled over with hysterical laughter filled by claws of chaos warping their mind. As Sanguinia flinched as she braced for the killing blow.A large clang radiated out silencing the whole room.Every demon, every custodian, and the Empress herself looked on in shock as Dove parried the maul with but a human's determination. Doves' right arm went limp from her arm breaking from the impact.”You are not going to kill my angel you mutt”Dove shouted. Sanguinia looked on with tears flowing from eyes.Black blood pooled out of Doves arm mixing with hers. “Pitiful”Horus remarked before swinging her war hammer again only to cleave Doves left arm clean off. “Please Dove run” as Sanguinia Wept looking at her love being torn apart. “Never, I will stand as I always have tell the bitter end, I love San-”Dove spoke as she began to speak until Horus utterly finished with this announce swang one last time reducing Dove into a buddy pulp. As Dove's final words rang in Sanguinia's ears the blood of her love pooling black as the space the night sky that she had promised to be wed under.Something broke in the angel, all of the blood on the ground swept towards her.The black blood oozing over her once white wings.her armor once perfectly covered in gold now dripped a waterfall of blood. With sickening cracks and snaps the Angel stood, never taking her eyes off of Dove's body. Hours to a step back away from Sanguinia”How are standing?” Sanguinia's eyes snapped up to meet Hours’ eyes.Were once a bastion of kindness and comftha.Now lacked anything but mindless rage. Hours fearing for her life ready for another swing but before her mind could pensive Sanguinia with one flap of her wings and one stab from Dove's sword punctured through her armor and cut downward. Hours fell with not but a word as Sanguinia belted out “Dove” over and over again. Moonbeam sat motionless on the floor and stared at Hours' body.As the Empress stepped closer Moonbeam let out a massive physic scream that shunted everyone but themselves and Horus and the legion that still lived far away from Tera.

The following days were filled with work.The Empress was stuck on holy Tera forced to remain on the golden throne to stop any demons from entering Tera once again. Sanguinia barely spoke standing vigil, unmoving, muttering Dove's name as she stood in front of their beloved grave. The grave read ‘Here lies Dove, Sanguinia, only love and beloved parent of the blood angels.’ Moonbeam cradled Horus’ head.Even with all the thoughts that plagued their mind they knew, if anyone was going to avenge their love it was going to be them and them alone.

My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looming for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.

This will be my fourth flight in the span of 2 months. Had to go back and forth from CA to TX twice. Finally heading back to CA for the last time and I am so scared. The turbulence in TX is awful and takeoff/landing sucks here.
I hate flying so much. On top of the awful fear of flying itself, its uncomfortable, freezing up there and hurts my ears. I also get anxiety about the process of getting to the gate before boarding. (checking bags, tsa, finding the gate…) The entire experience from arriving at the airport to baggage claim is just so scary and stressful.
I try to make it as comfortable as possible to make the experience more bearable. I have special earplugs to help with the pressure change, bring a blanket and pay for the wifi/bring a book for entertainment. I pack my carry on bag with TSA in mind, so getting everything out and back in is as quick as possible.
I’ve noticed my anxiety is at its peak from the day before the flight until we reach cruising altitude. Once we’re at the cruising altitude it eases up a little. Then landing is when my anxiety peaks again.
Idrk the point of this post I’m just freaking out and could use some support I guess.
It’s frustrating because I have flown quite a bit in my life, I wish I could get over this fear.

In the spirit of International Coaching Week 2024, I wanted to kick things off with a deep dive into a topic that’s close to my heart and crucial for anyone in or aspiring to leadership positions: the strategic value of coaching for executives. In today’s fast-evolving business landscape, the complexity and pressure leaders face can be overwhelming. It’s not just about making decisions anymore; it’s about making the right decisions in an environment that’s constantly shifting.
The Reality of Modern Leadership
Modern leadership is akin to navigating a ship through uncharted waters. You're at the helm, yes, but the sea is unpredictable. You need more than just a map; you need a compass, a lighthouse, and sometimes, a seasoned navigator whispering valuable insights into your ear. This is where executive coaching comes into play.
The Role of Coaching in Executive Leadership
Executive coaching isn’t about providing answers. It’s about asking the right questions that lead you to your own insights and breakthroughs. It offers:
A Sounding Board: Sometimes, all a leader needs is someone to bounce ideas off—a person who can listen without judgment and provide feedback that isn’t colored by organizational politics or personal bias. Decision-Making Clarity: In the face of uncertainty, a coach can help you clarify your thoughts, values, and priorities, leading to better decision-making. Strategies for Managing Stress and Work-Life Harmony: Leaders often sacrifice their well-being for the sake of their roles. Coaching helps you manage stress and find harmony, ensuring you lead effectively without burning out. Why It Matters
In a high-stakes environment, the ripple effects of an executive’s decisions are vast. The right coaching relationship can significantly enhance the quality of these decisions, not just for the leader’s benefit but for the entire organization's.
A Personal Invitation
I invite you to reflect on your leadership journey. Are there moments when you’ve felt stuck? Decisions that seem clouded by too much noise? How could a coaching perspective have altered the path?
Engage and Grow Together
This subreddit is more than just a place for me to share thoughts; it’s a community where we can all learn from each other. Whether you’re a seasoned executive, a leader in the making, or simply interested in the art and science of leadership, let’s engage.
What’s one leadership challenge you’ve faced, and how did you navigate it? Have you ever worked with a coach? What was the experience like for you? Let’s kickstart a conversation that matters. And if you’re curious about how executive coaching might fit into your leadership toolkit, feel free to reach out. I’m here to explore and support your journey towards becoming a more effective, resilient, and insightful leader.
Looking forward to your stories, insights, and questions!

So as I type this, I am getting over a pretty nasty cold which felt more like the flu but wasn't (I tested negative for it during an urgent care visit). While I was at urgent care, they took my BP, and my last BP test a few years ago was 115/79. This visit, it was 154/75. Is it normal to experience a massive surge in blood pressure during an illness? I've read minor spikes are normal, but this was no minor spike. This was also no normal cold either, as it came alongside a nasty ear infection in my right ear AND a case of pink eye, bundled with 103-104 degree fevers. Should I be concerned about my BP spike? Or was this due to the extrodinarily bad cold I had?

Hello everyone. I'm a female and 29 years old. I'm dealing with chronic dryness currently (ears, nose, ears, mouth) and doctors are unsure why because my glands look OK and my blood tests for Sjogrens were fine too, I am not doing a lip biopsy yet.
My left ear makes a thrilling sound whenever I cough. You know when someone thrills in a high-pitched tone with their lips? Kind of like that. Doctors looked at my ears and said "looks good" but the thrilling persists and it only started a few months ago.
Should I be worried? Anyone ever heard of that?

Seen GP for weird ear pain and they said go to dentist, around 4 months ago. I've called 111 4 times, moved recently, new nhs dentist who said it needs extracting but can't be referred unless it's infected or they've seen me in pain long enough. Been to Scott's Arms (as an emergency self found nhs111 couldn't refer) who said it's class 3 and needs to be done privately or by the hospital (6-12months waiting list).
My temple / eye / jaw are constantly throbbing and my hearing/sight is sensitive now, my ear is crunchy/crackly. I just want it gone now I need the best finance private affordable.
NHS / 111 Don't seem to care about pain only infection or visual swelling.(This post is not hating on NHS/111 I understand they're all under a lot of pressure. I'm also British and in pain so my post isn't the most upbeat grumble grumble)

My daughter will be 2 next month and has always been a relatively happy, chill, easy-to-distract kid. The last 3 days she’s been bringing the drama like no other, which is new for her- rolling on the ground crying fits lasting forever over the most minor frustrations, kicking, whining endlessly and then swinging back to happy like nothing happened. All molars are in already, she’s eating normally, not pulling ears, etc. I’m at a loss. She’s a little behind on expressive language skills, but she understands everything so I think she gets frustrated we don’t understand what she wants within 0.3 seconds, and goes nuclear.
I’m assuming this is developmentally normal? I’m 7 months pregnant and work a high pressure full-time job from home, which has been hard even with me paying grandma to help out a bit during work hours until my husband comes home (grandma is in her 70s and struggles to keep up with toddler shenanigans).
I’m starting to dread how bad the transition will be with a newborn if it continues like this for months on end. Does it get better?! Any advice or should I just buckle up now?😮‍💨🫠

I'm still worried about my health, I have pressure in my head, slightly off vision, balance issues, neck pain, feeling of muscle weakness in the arms despite having a strong grip and quick headaches that last for a second or two and are in multiple places.
The headaches aren't like "on my knees in pain" painful, they're more annoying than anything. They mostly happen on the right side of my forehead, right above my left ear, and where my neck meets my skull. They last for only a few seconds and aren't constant which is a good sign.
The pressure in my head feels like I'm constantly having a tight band on my head and sometimes behind my eyes, its getting really annoying that I'm still having this.
The arm weakness is really weird because I can lift heavy suit cases and have a really strong grip when I clench my fists and everything, but it feels like they're heavy.
My vision isn't blurry per say, it's more like it just doesn't feel right. I can still read text and understand it but it doesn't look right.
The dizziness is the worst, It feels like I'm wobbling whenever I stand still and eventually feels like I'm about to fall backwards, but people around me say I'm standing perfectly still.
What's good is that I'm still able to walk fine, I'm not nauseous or throwing up, and haven't had a seizure at all, and I can speak and think perfectly fine and recognize myself as, well, myself.
I'm trying to get a neuro recommendation from my doctor just in case to be safe, and I'm going to ask my med doc if what I'm feeling is normal for me being off my meds for a few months and getting back on. (I've recently started back on Fluoxetine and Buproprion a week or two ago for med background.)

F23, 55kg and 160cm, Northern European. Meds: olanzapine 2.5mg, cipralex 20mg, aerius
I started olanzapine this Friday. Allegedly, I am psychotic, though idk if I agree.
I feel super weird. Incredibly dizzy, there is a metallic taste in my mouth, I have this pressure on the right side of my head, headache, ringing in my left ear, pins and needles in my left arm. Is this normal? Will it pass? Should I see someone about this?

The night before I drank alcohol, an hour before dentist I took nac alc magnesium and Taurine. At the dentist I opted out of a cleaning and just to have 6 cavities fixed. He only had an air pressure drill but I sucked it up. He did bursts throughout as requested and even checked if it was fine. It wasnt 5 second pauses more like 1 second but I wanted this to be finished. Took basically 1 hour. And 2 hours later my ears seems at baseline, maybe slightly higher but nothing anxiety causing. I did take the same supplements an hour after the dentist. But after months of ignoring this I'm proud of myself for finally getting much needed dental work to prevent further damage. Resting my ears today and next day

Diagnosed as possible MD 2 months ago. Went through hearing tests and mri, hoping for a removable explanations but nothing was found.
Started about 15 months ago and I have had some longer term experience with ear plugged feeling and ringing but can only report maybe a single episode of dizziness or vertigo.
The ringing and plugged feeling seem to linger for several weeks at a before they stop bugging me as much and the last stint seemed to have been brought on by a sinus cold. 9 days since the onset and I still have pressure and strong ringing, but no vertigo.
I haven’t read about MD without seeing dizziness as a primary symptom, does anybody have a similar situation?
Maybe I’m just grasping at straws trying to find a way it could be something else .
Thanks for your time and your help,

Content Warning:Mentions of Child Abuse & Gore
They called me a colic baby, meaning I was a seemingly healthy baby that was distressed for an unknown reason. The fits of crying mostly dissipated by six months, but they'd crop up every now and then into toddler-hood. When I became capable of babbling a few words, I would summarize my pain in a few words: belly hurt. Belly HURT!
My parents didn't have much money, but they took me to the doctor for a checkup anyway. After running a physical exam and blood test, they determined that I was merely an excessively gassy little girl and should probably eat a more gut-friendly diet. They also prescribed some medicine which would eliminate the gas and relieve my pain.
It was from that moment on that my parents gave me the nickname "Gas Girl" (which I despised). The name stuck for several years, and anytime I'd get a little stomach ache my mom or dad would say, "uh, oh. It's not Gas Girl returning, is it?" I'd glare at them with my arms folded and pout, saying, "I'm not Gas Girl. I'm Wonder Girl!" My parents would share a look, then burst out laughing. Just as I was about to shout a retort, my dad would open up his arms and bend down in that familiar pose which signaled liftoff, and all my childish rage detached like a racing sticker as I leaped into my dad's arms and he flew me around the living room shouting "Who is it? It's Wonder-girl! Here to save the day from Gas Girl!"
Anyway, just as the nickname wore off, the pain returned. I was about 7 or 8 when I had my first big episode. I was in second grade, and the class was cutting out shapes. The pain came on so suddenly I remember lurching back and falling out of my seat. The next few hours were a blur of adults: my teacher, the nurses, the principal, my parents. I remember how cold and alone I felt despite being surrounded by grown ups, and my stomach hurt so much I was crying pretty much nonstop.
My dad bought a bunch of OTC medicine to try and settle what he thought was a really bad gas episode. My mom laid at the side of my bed and did bicycles in the air with me. Hours passed in pain as my adolescent imagination conjured up images of an evil little elf blowing thousands of bubbles in my belly. I consciously pictured myself popping them, but every time I did, more were blown. My dad scheduled a doctor's appointment for the next morning, and my mom stayed at my side until I was able to fall asleep sometime late in the night.
I dreamed vividly a horrific nightmare. I was strapped to a black, metal box. A surgeon donning blue scrubs with white gloves and a mask entered the space in my peripheral vision. The air was cold but crisp, as if every bit of dust had been scrubbed out of existence. I could feel my breathing, my heartbeat, even my skin. The doctor stepped forward and I could see the distortion of a smirk in the folds of his mask. I expected him to say something, to tell me what he wanted, but instead he lifted my shirt so my belly was exposed. "It's cold", I said in a mumbly voice. He lifted his hand in the air, and I saw behind it off in the back of the room was what looked like the glass wall of an aquarium. I was confused for a second, but only a second. The surgeon plunged his hand into my stomach like a spear, splitting through the flesh as if it were the skin of a ripe fruit. The previously silent man began to cackle like a maniacal villain as I nearly passed out from the pain. I felt his fingers swimming through my guts like parasitic worms. My body shook as cold sweat and blood began to ooze from my pores. I wanted to scream but I couldn't make a sound. I could only lay there, paralyzed, as the evil doctor explored my insides.
Somehow I lost consciousness in the dream, but when I woke up, the memory came flooding back, and I screamed with all the force of a thunderstorm. My parents skipped the appointment and rushed me to immediate care, but by the time we arrived, the pain was gone. I explained my dream to the doctor, but he said it was normal to dream up reasons for the pain. They recommended a CT scan to screen out the possibility of an ulcer or internal bleeding. Despite my parents' scarce savings, they agreed to run the test. However, something deeply entrenched in my mind thought of the dream with the surgeon and I protested. "I don't want a test!" I screamed. "But, honey, how are we going to know what's wrong?" replied my mom. "Nothing's wrong now. I don't want a test."
Looking back now on my persistence, it should have been obvious that there was something wrong with me, but my parents, who were thinking of their finances, allowed themselves to acquiesce to my demands. The pain would continue into and throughout my teenage years, and the one benefit that I can credit to it was that it taught me how to endure pain and hide it well before puberty started. Compared to my childhood cramps, period cramps were around a B+. Very bad, but not end of the world bad. However, they'd stick around more reliably, and eventually the two began to combine until I could no longer discern between them. Occasionally I would have a nightmare and wake up with a pain that was a little higher in my stomach, almost approaching my chest, but it would always disappear by breakfast time, and the chaos of a teenage girl's life would once again reassert itself in the form of an outfit that didn't look quite right or the memory of every word of a conversation with a guy I liked or how my teacher was out to get me. Basically, I had become normal.
And then two weeks after I turned 16, my dad passed away from heart failure. Apparently the stress from a paycheck-to-paycheck life in sales added onto a bad diet and a penchant for alcohol was a recipe for disaster. He was only 49. I was crushed.
The weeks and months following his funeral were filled with teenage anger and resentment. I directed most of it at my mom, who I held accountable for not being strong enough to step up and help with the bills. One day, when I was searching the drug cabinet for some painkillers to deal with some bad cramping, I noticed a new prescription for a drug with a really long name. I looked it up. It was an antidepressant. From that moment on I stopped giving my mom shit, but I grew a bit distant from her. I started spending a lot more time with my friends. I became reckless, adopting a drinking habit and unsafe sex practices. I smoked a bit but I didn't really like it. I guess I was just trying to find a way to move on, as naive as it was.
Fast forward to my present situation, and I'm a college student. A junior to be exact. I ended up scrounging up enough money from working two restaurant jobs to see a therapist on my own dime, and managed to make peace with my mom before leaving. We both talked out all of our trauma and cried together, and from that moment on, I haven't had a drink. About six months ago I got on the pill. I was starting to see one guy consistently and I wanted to be safe, but also I wanted to know what it felt like to not have stomach cramps anymore. It was freeing. I remembered my dad lifting me up into the air as a child, and I figured it kinda felt like that. I still cry thinking about him, although I don't let anyone see.
Anyway, about a week ago I started having really bad pain again, but this time it was in my chest. I would wake up in my apartment (I share a 3-bedroom with some friends from the college) with heart palpitations. My heart felt like a snake had wrapped around it and was trying to choke it out. The pressure would give way to a burst of fast ba-dum's, then settle, then start again. I remembered my dad's prognosis and started to get really scared, so I scheduled an appointment with the on-campus doctor for the next day through the online health platform.
They told me that chest pain is no joke and scheduled to have me scanned at a nearby hospital. This was four days ago. My boyfriend, Kevin, drove me there even though I said I'd be fine going alone. I think I already knew our relationship wasn't going to work out long term, so I was kind of checked out. I felt bad about it though because Kev is actually a really good person, but our personalities just don't match. He's very introverted and doesn't like to go out, whereas I thrive in group settings. Anyway, he drove me and I ended up getting an X-ray. The doc came in to share the results and I was immediately put off by the dubious expression on his face.
"What do you mean the images are blurry?" I asked.
"Well, it's just… that. They're blurry. It's very unusual for this to happen unless you have a pacemaker or some other device implanted. Do you know if you have something like that?"
"No, never," I said with a quaver in my voice. For some reason I thought back on my childhood dream with the surgeon and felt the urge to vomit.
"Well, let's run a CT scan and see if we can make anything out." He soothed.
Normally the CT and MRI dock was booked for a week out but the doctor happened to have an open space for me that same morning, so I waited about an hour and then got in the big tube machine that took pictures of my chest and abdomen. He said he should have the results by Thursday. That was Yesterday.
I was driving onto campus for my 9AM class when I got the call.
"Hello, this is Dr. **** calling for Josie **** ." (names redacted for privacy reasons)
"Oh, yes, this is Josie," I said and fit the phone between my shoulder and ear as I tried to find a comfortable posture."
"Yes, hello," the male doctor said in grave way which made me feel like this wasn't going to be a short call. "I wanted to see if you were available to come in today for some more tests."
"More tests?" I asked. "What about the first ones?" Images of blocked heart valves and cancer presented themselves on my mental screen.
"Yes, well, I wanted to discuss the results with you in person. There was a bit of a … well, an inconsistency, and I didn't want to upset you—"
"Upset me!?" I blurted, my free hand flying out over the steering wheel, swerving my car toward the curb. I corrected, then lowered my voice, "sorry, I don't mean to be …" be, what? This is completely absurd. "Could you at least give me some indication of what's wrong with me? I'm just kind of panicking here."
The doctor was quiet for a moment, then returned. "Sorry, Josie, I didn't mean to spook you. Both the X-ray scan and CT scan are picking up interference which is unusual. It's possible it's just a flaw on our end, so that's why we wanted you to come back in—to do an MRI and really verify what the issue is. This one would be free of charge and we'd get you results same-day as we feel bad about the issues with the machinery. Do you think that would be possible?"
I took a deep breath. I still felt uneasy, but at least now there was some kind of explanation I could lean on. "Okay, yeah, I can come in. I have class until 9:50AM, but I can drive over after and be there around 10:15, 10:20-ish. Would that work?"
"That would work great. We'll see you then."
I spent the whole of my communications class thinking about what could be wrong with me, doodling my ideas down on a notebook. Heart disease. Cancer. Some kind of peptic ulcer. Maybe it was the pill? The drinking? Was this some kind of cosmic retribution? I didn't know.
An hour later I was back at the hospital. I expected to be ushered into the MRI prep room, but instead I found myself in one of the normal patient rooms, sitting upright on a bed. The nurse did the preliminary height and weight measurements and medical history. I asked about the MRI, but all she said was that the doctor will discuss that with me. Before she left, she handed me an assessment to fill out. It seemed to be a list of questions about the medical history of my family, specifically about our mental health. Does your family have a history of Schizophrenia? Have there been any instances of domestic abuse? Did you have vivid nightmares as a child? Etc. I marked the boxes, then set the clipboard down.
At last I heard the fated knock on the door, and my doctor came in holding an Ipad. The door was only open for maybe a couple seconds, but I could see multiple nurses and technicians peeking their heads in my direction, as if they were trying to catch a glimpse of me. That can't be good.
"Hello, Josie," the doctor said and clicked on the little TV screen. He didn't even look at me. I could see dried sweat along his hairline.
"What's happening? I thought I was going to get an MRI…"
"Well, actually we aren't sure if that's the best course of action." the doctor said as he clicked the screen and pulled up a series of images.
"Can you look at me, please?" I snapped.
The doctor raised his head and tilted it in my direction. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide as if only realizing I was here at that moment. "I'm sorry, Josie." He took a deep breath, preparing some kind of canned presentation, then let it out and said, "It's just easier if I show you." He pulled up the first global image from what I presume was my CT scan. It was a front-shot. I could see my organs as little geometric shapes and—
"Wait, what is that?" I asked, pointing at the screen.
"That—is the problem."
I spent the next minute just staring at it. Somehow, in between all of the organs, there was some kind of cylindrical mass—I thought it was my spine at first but quickly realized it was too wide and there weren't any vertebrae—and at the head of the mass was, very clearly, a hand.
"What the fuck is that" I said in a tone that was at once forceful and pointed.
"It appears," the doctor started, looking away again. "It appears that there is a mechanical hand in your chest cavity. It's attached to a piece of a forearm that begins at your stomach, here," he pointed, "and continues up until, well, it appears to be holding your heart."
Ten seconds passed in silence. Then I was hit with the equivalent of the laughing gas they give you at the Dentist's office. All the blood in my body surged to my forehead and I felt light as the very thin hospital air. "Hahaha!!! You expect me to believe that? What kind of fucking clown-show hospital is this? Am I at the circus?' I stood up and started toward the door. The doctor body blocked me.
"Please, Josie, that isn't it."
"Oh?" I said sarcastically. "Please, do tell."
"Could you have—oh, okay, okay,, let me explain."
I stood there with my arms folded, unrelenting.
"When we first had you do the X-ray there was a big blur. It was clear that something was blocking us from seeing the image. The CT scan was able to take some actual pictures of it. I know it seems, well, unusual—"
"Wait, what the hell is that?" I asked, gesturing toward the clipboard.
"What?" The doctor looked disoriented.
"Those questions. Are you trying to insinuate that my mom and dad implanted some kind of mechanical hand in my body?"
"No," the doctor raised his hands. "We were just trying to gather some more information… Josie," the doctor said as I once again headed for the door handle. "Please, there's more. From the blood test we conducted it seems that you're pregnant."
I was so done. "I'm on the pill, asshole." I sneered and swung the door open, ignoring the sets of eyes trained on me as I scurried to the end of the hall, ran outside, and climbed into my car. I expected to see a bunch of people in white coats running after me, but there was no one. I started the car as tears began to stream from my eyes. Fuck them, I thought and sped out of the parking lot.
I couldn't return to my apartment. I ended up driving for hours, working my way back to my hometown. I spent a long time thinking about all the things I had experienced growing up. The stomach pain, slowly working its way up to my chest. The vivid dream of the surgeon feeling around my guts. Was it really that crazy to think my body was trying to tell me something? Why had I decided against having a CT scan all those years ago? Why now? I didn't—couldn't believe what was happening to me. But was that just because I didn't want to believe it?
And then there was the pregnancy. I was definitely on the pill. I knew it wasn't Kev's, or at least I was pretty sure it wasn't. We haven't been having sex for a little over a month now. But did that mean that something else didn't impregnate me? My paranoia was at its peak. I considered the possibility that maybe it was me that was Schizophrenic. None of this made any sense. I wanted my dad. I missed him. I considered going to see my mom, but despite making up with her, I still didn't feel close enough to her to own up to everything. I wanted to be alone—needed to be alone.
I ended up getting a Motel about 10 minutes away from my house. It was around 1AM when I finally opened the door to my room and laid down on the bed. After hours of thinking, a single thought occurred to me like a kind of defense mechanism: if I really am pregnant, I'm not keeping the baby. I want it out.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the notification sound go off on my phone, which was odd since I was sure I had set it to vibrate. I turned and grabbed it, unplugging it from its charging dock. I had received a text message from an unknown, 5-digit number: 66669. This is what it said.
66669: If you terminate my baby, I will crush your heart.
***
I haven't been able to sleep since. It's now 6AM and I've drafted this as a cry for help. Please, let me know what you think I should do. I'm too "in it" to see the details clearly. I feel alone and scared and paranoid. Someone or something is watching me. Maybe it has been my whole life.

Sorry this is long, but wanted to be thorough. Let me know your thoughts.
Growing up I had chronic ear infections, in high school I was constantly sick, frequently with what seemed to be bacterial infections. I got my first yeast infection when I was 13 before ever being sexually active. I also struggled with oral thrush frequently in high school. I've also never been overweight and my diet growing up was mostly very healthy due to my parents, but I had a really bad sugar craving. My period started around 12 and up until I started taking oral contraceptive at 16, it was very heavy and very painful with strong PMS. I've also struggled to fall asleep my entire life, I did not nap as a child and to this day I cannot nap unless I am very sick.
When I was 17yrs old (female), I went to the doctor with abdominal pain, extreme lack of appetite and nausea if I did eat, trouble sleeping, concentrating, fatigue, depression. At the time I had been on oral contraceptive for about 2 years.. They did a blood test and the results were:
Serum Iron - 198mcg/dL (reference range: 26-169) HIGH
Iron Saturation - 55% (reference range: 15-55%) ALMOST HIGH
Ferritin 29ng/mL (reference range: 15-77) Normal
TIBC - 361ng/dL (reference: 250-450) Normal
UIBC - 163ug/dL (reference: 131-425) Normal
TSH - 1.85 uIU/mL (reference: 0.450-4.500) Normal
T4, free - 2.1ng/dL (reference: 1.2-4.9) Normal
MCV - 97 cumicron (79-97) ALMOST HIGH
MCH - 31.6 cumicron (26.6-33.0) normal
Monocytes - 6%
At the time the doctor decided I had high inflammation in my body and put me on an inflammation diet and a lot of supplements (it was a functional doctor that my parents liked). It seemed to work after 3 months of strict diet and supplementation. I switched to a hormonal IUD in 2019. Throughout college I struggled with low energy and low mood and after a year of therapy was diagnosed with clinical depression by my therapist. I decided to not take medication for it. I've also been experiencing abdominal pain that radiates down my legs for multiple years. The abdominal pain was so bad I went to get checked for endometriosis last spring but they can't diagnose it without surgery, but the IUD is correctly placed.
Two months ago (24 years old) I went into the doctors to get tested for hypothyroidism since my mother had it and I had developed Reynaud's syndrome (I've always had very cold sensitive feet though) a month after starting adderall for ADHD and low energy (started in January). I had also been experiencing wrist joint pain, hair loss, and low appetite, but did not think much of it. The results were:
TSH - 2.510 uIU/m (reference: 0.450-4.500) Normal (higher than at 17)
MCV - 98 fL (80-96) HIGH
MCH - 33.3 pg (27.5-33.2) HIGH
Monocytes - 8.3% (0.0-7.3%) HIGH
I weighed 131 lbs then.
However, the Reynaud's was not improving and I was still experiencing symptoms of back pain and joint pain and abdominal pain. I also was losing weight and experiencing hair loss.
The rheumatologists tests one months ago came back normal with no sign of autoimmune disease. She said the reynaud's is probably just the adderall increasing my blood vessel spasms. (my blood pressure was low for someone on adderall however: 100/65).
I weighed 123 lbs then.
Then I went to another doctor, two weeks ago, when I kept experiencing random muscle weakness and fatigue, had blood in my stool (which I had again today), joint pain in multiple joints and lower back pain and abdominal pain and pain in my sides near where the ribcage ends. Something is wrong. She took more blood tests and they came back with:
Serum Iron - 175ug/dL (reference: 27-159) HIGH
Iron Saturation - 67% (reference 15-55%) HIGH
Ferritin - 58ng/mL (reference: 15-77) Normal (higher than at 17)
TIBC - 263ug/dL (reference: 250-540) Normal (lower than at 17)
UIBC - 88ug/dL (reference: 131-425) LOW (much loser than at 17)
TSH - 4.05 uIU/mL (0.45-4.5) Normal (Almost double the past tests)
T4, free - 1.51ng/dL (0.82-1.77) Normal
APTT - 37 sec (reference: 24-33sec) HIGH
MCV - 96 cumicron (79-97) ALMOST HIGH
MCH - 32.5 cumicron (26.6-33.0) ALMOST HIGH
monocytes - 8% (0.0-7.3%) HIGH
This is not all the results but they are the most constantly high or changing ones. We also ruled out Addison's (my grandpa had it) and autoimmune markers are all coming back normal. I'm thinking I get checked for hemochromatosis. Any other thoughts or ideas about what the problem could be? I have stool samples being run right now.
Thank you.

28m here. I don't usually voice my thoughts online but my anxiety has reached a point that I just needed to share this out.
For 3 weeks, I've been having odd symptoms like persistent headaches, eye pressure and tinnitus on my right ear. It then progressed to me having slightly blurry vision that immediately made me take a trip to a neurologist.
So there I was, telling them about my symptoms, when they got worried when I mentioned about my blurry vision and tinnitus. They then prompted to schedule me for an MRI scan and referred me to an opthalmologist first, who then told me I might have symptoms of glaucoma (they were surprised since it was uncommon for people my age to get it). The eye doctor then gave me some glaucoma drops and some prescriptions and told me to return after 2 weeks if there was improvement with my eyes.
I am still waiting on my MRI scan appointment so my neurologist can check it. Right now, i'm just suffering from migraines and nausea thats driving my anxiety so bad (horrible mistake that I asked my symptoms on dr google too). Im really hoping it's not what I think it is

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