My name is Rory Fars, and my little sister, Lily Fars, is the last family I had left.
A heavy sense of dread settled over me like a suffocating blanket as I sat in the worn leather seat of Lily's old jeep. The car, a relic of our happier days, seemed to groan under our shared sorrow. Beside me, Lily, my best friend, and confidante, absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long, dark hair, which swayed gently in rhythm with the haunting melodies from the oldies station on the radio. This car had seen us through countless joyful journeys when our family was whole. Almost three years had passed since that fateful Christmas trip in Texas when our parents were tragically killed in a horrific multi-car pileup. The memory of their loss was a constant ache, a wound that never fully healed.
My dad was from Amarillo, Texas, so my parents often took trips down there, visiting the places that held so many memories for him. During one of these trips, just before Christmas, a sudden blizzard struck while they were on the freeway. The snow fell in blinding sheets, making the world outside a disorienting white blur. As they tried to slowly pull to the side, their vision obscured by the relentless storm, they never saw the car barreling toward them at least forty miles an hour. The impact was devastating, an abrupt and brutal end to their journey and, in many ways, to our lives as we had known them.
My parents were always sticklers for safety, insisting on seatbelts every time we got in the car. So, of course, they had theirs on during that fateful trip. The initial impact wasn't what killed them, the coroner explained to me. Not even the first hit from behind, which was going at least fifty miles an hour, was fatal. I had to practically shake the information out of him—they were so resistant to tell me anything at first. By the time the third car hit, with an unknown speed, their survival was already in jeopardy. The coroner said that by the fifth car, they were likely dead. But it didn't end there. Another twenty-three vehicles slammed into the back of the pile, each collision further crushing their bodies, reducing them to a horrific, unrecognizable state. Each jarring impact pushed my parents deeper into a gruesome amalgamation of twisted metal and shattered lives.
I don't know why I felt compelled to demand those details at the time, but I deeply regret it now. I wish I had never asked. Almost every night, unless I drink myself into oblivion, I am haunted by nightmares of what they endured. I dream of driving up to save them, only to be caught in the same deadly barrage of cars, ending in a twisted metal tomb for all of us.
Lily is never in those dreams. Even in my most horrific imaginings, I can't envision her being hurt. Lily is my little sister, younger by eight years and three months. Whenever I mention our age difference, I see the judgment in people's eyes, but what can I say? Our parents never stopped loving each other. They had Lily late in life; she became our shared joy, our living reminder of the love that had bound our family together.
Lily wasn't my twin in the literal sense, but ever since she was born, it felt like we shared the inexplicable connection that twins often describe. As she grew up, our bond only deepened—we acted, sounded, and even looked remarkably alike. She became my rock, especially after our parents' tragic deaths. We leaned on each other, cried into each other's shoulders, and somehow found the strength to move forward. We eventually moved in together, finding solace in a two-bedroom apartment that became our sanctuary.
Lily seemed to handle our parents' deaths better than I did, or maybe she was just better at distracting herself with technology. Even before their passing, Lily was addicted to any kind of digital screen she could manipulate. Her ability to navigate the digital world was unmatched; she was the most intelligent person I had ever met. Her intelligence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped us, a testament to her resilience and brilliance.
After my parents' death, I embarked on a quest to find my spirituality by delving into paranormal investigations. I hoped these pursuits would bring me closer to my parents in the afterlife, spiritual realm, or whatever you want to call it. Instead, it created a chasm between me and any sense of spiritual existence. Each investigation seemed to push me further from the answers I sought, leaving me feeling more isolated and disconnected than ever.
I had hoped that by exploring these paranormal claims, I would discover a way to reach out to my parents and feel their presence again. Yet, as the years have passed, this endeavor has only deepened my loneliness and sense of loss. Despite knowing how detrimental it is to my mental health, I can't bring myself to stop. The hope that the subsequent investigation will be the one that proves the existence of an afterlife and that I'll find a way to contact my parents keeps me going. It's a desperate, unrelenting pursuit for a connection that remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
I should have accepted their death and moved on like any sane person would. Instead, I let my grief fester and dragged my sister and a stranger, Mark, through my obsessive quest for answers. My relentless pursuit of the paranormal didn't just alienate me; it consumed us all, leading to their untimely deaths. My name is Rory Fars, and I am here to confess my side of the story about the missing case of Lily Fars and Mark Lawrence.
This is the truth about how my desperate search for a connection with the afterlife led to a nightmare from which none of us could escape.
To start off, no, Lily was not a student of Mark's who fell in love with him and then got jealous of me hitting on him, leading her to kill him and herself. I know that sounds ridiculous, but given some wild theories circulating online, I need to address this one specifically since it seems to be the most popular.
First and foremost, Mark Lawrence was not, nor has he ever been, a professor at a university. Lily and I met Mark at the Local Museum in Redlin, a town nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains. He was the curator of an exhibit showcasing the history of Raven's Nest, a forgotten mining town that neither Lily nor I had ever heard of. This is where our story begins, in a place steeped in history and mystery, far removed from the convoluted theories that now cloud the truth.
We were constantly searching for new ideas for our podcast about paranormal claims. Each of our twenty-five episodes so far had concluded with a rational explanation, so when Mark told us about the curse of Harper, I was immediately intrigued.
Mark was an older man, likely in his mid-sixties, with a full head of silver hair and a beard that stubbornly clung to its youthful color, only lightly dusted with grey. He had a presence that commanded attention, and his stories about the curse were delivered with an intensity that drew me in.
On the other hand, Lily was always more interested in the technical aspects of the paranormal. She had her own theories and was determined to debunk every claim we investigated. She wasn't easily swayed by Mark's tales about the curse of Harper, but she was willing to listen and give him a chance to prove himself. Her skeptical mind constantly checked my enthusiasm, and together, we hoped to uncover the truth behind yet another paranormal mystery.
"Hello ladies, care to hear about the mysterious town of Raven's Nest?" Mark asked with theatrical enthusiasm.
Lily and I exchanged a knowing glance, trying to stifle our amusement. Despite our attempts to remain composed, a smirk played at the corners of our lips.
"We're all ears," I replied, my tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.
He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed that we said yes. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to steel himself for the task ahead. "Well, you see," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "in the early twentieth century, a man named Harper Franstein exploited many men and children in the coal mines. By the mid-1920s, he had established his own settlement in a secluded valley, which he dubbed 'The Raven's Nest.' It was never officially recognized as a town, but that's the only name we have to go off of."
I could see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's brow as he struggled to recall every detail. Despite his initial enthusiasm, he now appeared flustered, his confidence waning. Eventually, he resorted to consulting his damp and crumpled notes, a sign of his growing unease.
"Um, anyway, yeah, um," he stuttered, audibly gulping as his nerves got the better of him. Lily couldn't contain her laughter, emitting a snicker that earned us a glare from Mark.
"Hey, just relax," I interjected, trying to diffuse the tension. "We're not here to judge or intimidate you." With a gentle touch on his forearm and a chuckle, I attempted to reassure him, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort.
He paused, sharing a chuckle with me, while Lily struggled to suppress her laughter and eventually excused herself, leaving just Mark and me. Evidently, he felt more at ease with fewer listeners, so he pressed on with his narrative.
"Anyway," he resumed, "Harper held complete control over the town and the mine, and he made sure everyone was acutely aware of that fact. When the disappearances began, he tried to sweep them under the rug, attributing them to anything but his own negligence in mining practices."
"What do you mean by 'negligence in mining practices'?" I interjected, eager to delve deeper into his intriguing tale.
He looked up, clearly pleased by my question. "Yes, exactly," he affirmed. "Harper adhered to a mining technique outlined by Dwight Brunst in the mid to late nineteenth century. This method mandated only one entry and exit point into the mine."
"Wait, so they were forbidden from creating additional exits?" I pressed for clarification.
"Not explicitly," he explained. "The practice advocated for just one entry and exit as it was believed to minimize the risk of cave-ins, at least in theory. However, there were instances where miners, feeling uneasy about this restriction, took matters into their own hands and carved out what they called 'Emergency Exits' for themselves. After about half of the town started going missing, Harper couldn't take criticism about how he responded, but most people say he was losing money quickly and didn't want to live in a world where he was poor. He walked into the mine, never to be seen again, much like the cave's past victims. Visitors report seeing and hearing Harper, trying to get them to leave."
As I stood there, listening to Mark's enthralling narrative, I found myself captivated by the mysterious allure of Raven's Nest. Unable to contain my curiosity, I decided to pose a question.
"So, what does the town look like now?" I inquired, eager to learn more about the present state of this enigmatic place.
Mark's demeanor shifted slightly as he rifled through his notes, a subtle indication that he didn't have a straightforward answer to my query.
"You've never been there?" I asked, my tone softening with genuine curiosity.
He flinched as though my question had struck a nerve. "Shhhhhh... shut up," he demanded, his voice tinged with unease.
Suppressing a chuckle, I leaned in closer and whispered, "Okay, hear me out. My sister Lily and I are investigating paranormal phenomena. Your story about Raven's Nest sounds like the perfect addition to our podcast. What do you say we compensate you for your guidance? Let's say, three hundred bucks?"
He straightened up, contemplating my proposition for a few moments. Without uttering a word, he extended his hand, and I met it halfway with my own, sealing our agreement with a firm handshake.
Our journey to Raven's Nest was no easy feat. Situated a good twenty miles from town and nestled deep within a dense valley. After all of the tight turns, narrow dirt roads, and steep inclines, it took us a grueling two and a half hours to go twenty-something miles, but we finally reached the outskirts of the infamous settlement. As we stood at the edge of the "Nest," anticipation mingled with trepidation, setting the stage for the eerie exploration that lay ahead.
I glanced at my phone; the time read 11:56 pm, signaling the late hour. Sensing the exhaustion weighing heavily, I suggested we catch a few hours of rest in Lily's jeep. Mark, though visibly unsettled, remained silent from the back seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he slumped against the window like a sulking child.
Drifting asleep in the passenger seat, I soon found myself ensnared in a nightmare. In my dream, Mark was being dragged away into the darkness, his desperate attempts to claw his way back to safety only resulting in broken fingertips. Despite his struggles, he was powerless against the unseen force pulling him inexorably into the abyss. Suddenly, I was alone, engulfed in utter darkness, my heart pounding with fear as I ran blindly from an unseen terror that seemed to pursue me relentlessly, its malevolent presence palpable but unseen.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my heart racing as the remnants of dread lingered in the pit of my stomach. It was morning, and I was struggling to adjust my vision. Lily's frantic but comforting voice broke through the haze of my terror, grounding me in reality. With her comforting embrace, I gradually calmed my racing thoughts, drawing deep, steadying breaths.
As we sat there, enveloped in each other's embrace, Mark approached the driver's side window with an unexpected question, "Alright, what's for breakfast?" His nonchalant tone and casual demeanor were a stark contrast to the harrowing nightmare that had just consumed my thoughts, momentarily dispelling the lingering specter of fear that had haunted my dreams.
Lily and I both look up at him and back at each other as we burst out into laughter.
Amidst our shared laughter, Lily and I exchanged amused glances before turning our attention back to Mark.
"Ha...ha, yeah. No, but seriously, what's for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast, at least?" Mark pressed, hoping for a more substantial response.
His earnest inquiry fueled our laughter further, our giggles echoing through the quiet night air. Eventually, we regained our composure and stepped out of the jeep, stretching our limbs after the cramped confines of the vehicle.
Mark awkwardly moves to the side, still waiting for an honest answer. Lily tossed him a granola bar, eliciting a bemused chuckle from him. With a shared understanding, we set off on foot, embarking on the hike into the town.
The path ahead was clear: a single dirt road that wound its way from the abandoned coal mine into the heart of the small settlement. The road, now overgrown and muddy from years of disuse, bore the marks of neglect and isolation. Wary of the treacherous conditions, Lily opted to forgo the risk of getting stuck, steering clear of the decrepit road that likely hadn't seen a traveler in at least half a century.
We parked Lily's jeep at the entrance to both the mine and the town of Raven's Nest, opting to proceed on foot from there. Standing at the mountain's peak, gazing down at the desolate town below, I couldn't help but ponder the history beneath the dilapidated structures. I imagined how this valley must have once been a pristine landscape cherished by the indigenous people who roamed its lush terrain.
"Jesus, this place is more like a shit nest," Mark muttered in disgust, his disdain evident in his tone.
Lily shot me a knowing glance, silently communicating her skepticism toward Mark's assessment of the town.
Deciding to put Mark's knowledge to the test, I casually inquired, "So, what year was this area founded?"
Mark's reaction was almost defensive as if my question had caught him off guard. He hesitated momentarily before fumbling for his note cards in his pocket, a telltale sign that he wasn't as knowledgeable as he let on.
Before he could respond, I interjected with another question, "Mark, how long have you worked at the museum?"
As Mark froze, his gaze locking onto mine like a deer caught in headlights, I watched him closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. My narrowed eyes bore into his, silently urging him to be honest.
Finally, breaking the tense silence, Mark confessed, "Look, this is only my first week. I... I haven't had the greatest time lately, and I really need the extra money. I'm sorry I lied, but I'll help however I can."
I met his gaze unwaveringly, sensing the sincerity in his words. Clearly, he was a man in need of redemption, grappling with his own personal struggles.
"Alright, alright, don't cry too much," I teased lightly, trying to ease the tension. Gesturing towards Lily, who was busy preparing her wireless motion cameras in her backpack, I continued, "Lily and I already figured that was the case. Honestly, we're surprised you agreed to come along."
Mark remained frozen, but the tension seemed to melt away from his expression, replaced by a tentative smile. It was a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment that he was still welcomed into our expedition despite his initial deception.
"Alright, I have the cams and portable batteries to make sure the cameras and anything we have with power can last," Lily said, her voice brimming with determination.
We began our descent into the town, our hiking boots struggling against the thick, clinging mud produced by the constant light rain and years of disuse. Each step was a battle, the mud threatening to swallow our boots with every move.
After an eternity of trudging through the muck, we finally reached the town's only paved road—the main road. It had taken us only about fifteen minutes to hike down, but navigating the muddy slope had sapped our energy. We paused for a break, taking a few minutes to clean off our boots and catch our breath.
As we rested, I noticed Lily rummaging through her bag with a focused intensity. Curious, I asked, "What are you looking for?"
"I brought five motion-detecting cameras that I want to set up strategically throughout the town," she replied, pulling out one of the cameras. She walked over to the nearest building, a structure that served as a post office, police station, and fire station. She positioned the camera outside the building so it was pointed at the only road leading in and out of the town.
"We need to cover all potential points of interest," she explained, securing the camera in place. "This one will monitor any activity on the main road. We should place the other cameras around key locations like the mine entrance, the town square, and some more intact buildings."
I nodded, appreciating her thoroughness. "Good idea. We need to make sure we capture anything unusual."
Mark, having finally caught his breath, joined us. "Alright, let's get these cameras set up and see what we can find," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Look," Lily said, turning her tablet screen toward us. She waved her hand in front of the camera she had just placed. The tablet displayed five squares on the interface, each meant to show a feed from one of the cameras. Since Lily had only set up one camera so far, only the bottom right square showed any footage pointed at the road leading out of town. She stopped waving her hand, and the feed went to a blue screen.
"What happened? Did we lose connection?" Mark asked frantically, his eyes wide with concern.
Lily cackled, struggling to contain her amusement. Composing herself, she waved her hand in front of the camera again, and the bottom right square showed her hand waving once more. "It's motion-activated. It's the best way to save on battery life," she explained.
Mark seemed to relax, though he was still catching his breath after the brief panic.
I glanced at my watch, noting the time. "It's 8:30. We're behind schedule. If you want to place the rest of your cameras, we better move now," I said, walking down the street.
Lily immediately got up and followed me, with Mark struggling to keep pace behind us. We reached the market building, and Lily positioned her second camera on the side of the road, pointing up at the market.
It's not much longer before we make it to the Town Hall. I suggest Lily place a camera nearby. She nods and heads into a building across from the Town Hall labeled, "Slaughterhouse: LOCAL ANIMALS ONLY."
As Lily explores the building to find an adequate spot for the camera, I wait for Mark to catch up. While I wait, I can't help but imagine this town in its prime, picturing the streets filled with families who loved each other.
My thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sound echoing in the distance—a roar unlike any I've ever heard. It was a mix of a human screaming in pain, the roar of a lion, and, near the end, the howl of a wolf. The chilling sound sent shivers down my spine.
I jump to my feet and immediately call out, "Lily, you okay?"
There's no response from Lily, but I'm interrupted by Mark finally catching up, panting heavily.
"Holy... shit... did you... hear that?" Mark said frantically between breaths.
"Yeah, we have to find Lily," I say, bolting into the slaughterhouse. I glance back to see Mark bracing himself on the steps of the Town Hall, struggling to keep up.
As I enter the building, the stench of rotting flesh hits me like a wave, causing me to gag. The smell is too fresh to be decades old.
"Lily? Lily, where are you?" I yell, using my shirt to shield my nose from the overwhelming odor.
"Rory, I'm in here!" I hear Lily yell from a room two doors down. I pass the first door, peeking in to ensure I hadn't misheard, but I wish I hadn't looked.
Inside the first room, I catch a glimpse of what appears to be a pile of animal carcasses, their decayed bodies arranged in a grotesque display. The sight is horrifying, the flesh still disturbingly fresh. The bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to focus on finding Lily.
I rush to the room where her voice came from, pushing the door open. Lily is there, setting up the camera, seemingly oblivious to the horror in the adjacent room. Relief floods through me as I see she's safe.
"Lily, did you hear that roar?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Yeah, I heard it," she replies, her eyes wide with concern. "I was just finishing up here. Let's get back to Mark and figure out what that was." She had placed the camera in a window, pointing directly at the Town Hall.
We hurry back outside, where Mark still catches his breath as we meet between the buildings. "We need to stay together from now on," I say firmly, looking at both of them. "Whatever that noise was, it's not something we want to face alone."
"Let's check out the Town Hall!" Mark says excitedly as he slowly clambers through a broken window.
"Did he not just hear what I said?" I mutter under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
Lily gives me a shrug, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Guess we're heading into the Town Hall then," she says, adjusting her backpack and walking towards the broken window.
I sigh and follow suit, hoisting myself up and carefully maneuvering through the jagged glass. Inside, the air is musty, filled with the scent of old paper and decaying wood. Dust motes float lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the cracked windows.
The main hall is vast and eerily silent, with rows of empty chairs facing a stage draped in tattered curtains. The walls are lined with faded portraits and yellowed maps of the town, remnants of a time when this place was alive and bustling.
Mark is already at the front, examining a large, decrepit desk. "Look at this," he says, his voice echoing in the empty space. "It's like stepping back in time."
I walk over, glancing at the old papers scattered across the desk. Most are mundane—meeting minutes, maintenance logs—but one catches my eye. It's a letter dated June 1925, addressed to Harper Franstein.
"Harper, the disappearances are becoming more frequent. The townsfolk are getting restless, and I fear they may take matters into their own hands if we don't act soon. We need to find out what's causing this before it's too late."
I read the letter aloud, and the room fell silent. "Sounds like things were getting pretty tense," Lily remarks, her voice subdued.
As I'm distracted by the time capsule in front of us, Mark sneaks off.
I'm not sure how long it was before she noticed, but I saw Lily looking around before saying, "Where the hell did Mark go?" breaking me out of my trance.
I look around, turning my head in all directions, and shrug at Lily. I hear shuffling in the second room down the hall, so I slowly walk toward it.
"Mark?" I call out.
Just then, a loud crash reverberates through the building, making it sound like the whole place was about to come down.
We run in and see Mark struggling to keep himself from falling into a giant hole that must've broken under his weight. Trying not to laugh, I glance at Lily. We help him up as he dramatically falls onto his back, wheezing as he catches his breath.
Lily and I can't contain our laughter anymore as we bust out laughing hard. Startled by our sudden outburst, Mark jumps in fear. He looks around, confused for a few seconds, before realizing that we are laughing at him.
"Jesus, thanks, I guess," he says, clearly thankful but annoyed by our reaction.
After we contained ourselves, we headed back outside, exiting through the window Mark entered through. He struggles to climb out, but after Lily gives him a hand, he is safely out of the Town Hall.
"Alright, Ror, where should we put the next camera?" Lily asks me.
I stop to think momentarily, trying to picture the town's layout. "I think the only place left is the neighborhood," I respond confidently. I always talk like that with Lily. Over the years, I've realized she is the only person I can have that much confidence around. With anyone else, I'm worried about saying something stupid or wrong or how they'll view me, but with my sister, everything is easy.
As I look at the replica map of the town in its heyday from the museum, I determine that the neighborhood is to the East. "Okay, looks like we head East past the Library. Let's go." I say, walking away.
It only takes about eight minutes to get to the long strip of road that housed the town's workers. According to the map, there were fifteen houses along this strip of road.
The houses stand eerily silent, their wooden frames weathered and decayed by time. We walk down the road, our footsteps crunching on the gravel and echoing in the stillness. The air feels heavier here like the past is watching us, waiting to reveal its secrets.
"Let's put the last cameras on that house at the end of the road," I suggest, pointing to a house that looks slightly less dilapidated than the others, "another one at the last house on the other side, and the last we can save for a spot you choose."
Lily nods and heads toward the first house, pulling another camera from her backpack. She sets it up on the porch, positioning it to capture the entire street, and does the same in the opposite house. As I stand with Mark breathing hard, still unable to catch his breath since we first got here, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I glance around nervously but see nothing out of the ordinary.
"All set," Lily says, breaking my reverie, "Still no ideas for the last cam?" Lily asks me.
"Like I said, wherever you think it would be best. I feel like we have enough good spots and angles, so go wild with that one," I told her.
She smirked and kept walking next to me. Mark was still struggling behind, but after the town hall mishap, he was trying his best to keep up. I looked at my watch, and it read '12:30 pm'.
"Holy shit, it's already 12:30," I said in amazement, but no one else seemed fazed. It felt like we'd only been here thirty minutes, not almost four hours.
We walked back down the street. Lily and I had been discussing on the walk that she should put the last camera at the town's only stoplight in front of the Library.
As we made our way to it, I could have sworn I was seeing something moving fast past my vision in the corner of my eye. Every time I turned to look, it was gone. I chalked it up to being my imagination until Lily and Mark both experienced the same thing.
"What the fuck was that?" Mark asked as he ducked, bracing for something terrible to happen. Lily and I looked back at him and then at each other as we shrugged. It was after that that I started seeing things, too.
I confided in Lily about the unsettling visions and sounds, and she admitted she had experienced the same phenomena but had kept quiet, fearing Mark would dismiss her as paranoid.
"Well, it's probably just a cat or something," I said, attempting to downplay the situation, but neither seemed convinced.
We continued our trek, and I noticed that the more we walked, the more frequently I caught fleeting glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision. It was beginning to grate on my nerves.
Finally, we reached the light in front of the Library. As Lily mounted the camera, I felt a sense of satisfaction. We were making good progress, and it seemed like a suitable moment to start exploring the town more freely. We decided to split up and cover different sections of the town.
"Wait, we have to go alone? Why can't we stay together like you said?" Mark asked frantically, but Lily and I ignored him as we headed in separate directions. He continued to protest, but we paid him no mind. Eventually, I was either far enough away to not hear him anymore, or he had given up. Either way, I was happy to enjoy the eerie silence of the town.
As I wandered, the stillness of Raven's Nest enveloped me. With its decrepit buildings and overgrown streets, the town exuded an unsettling charm. It was as if I had stepped into a forgotten world, a place frozen in time with secrets waiting to be unearthed. The ambiance reminded me of an amusement park's haunted town section—artificially eerie yet irresistibly intriguing. Despite the creepiness, the mysterious vibe of the town kept me engaged and eager to explore its hidden corners.
I glanced at my watch again, only to find the time glaring back at me: 3:19 pm. It couldn't be right. There was no way it had been that long since I last checked. Panic seized me, and I called out for Lily, my voice tinged with urgency. She appeared beside me in a matter of minutes, her expression mirroring my concern.
"What's up, Ror? You okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"How long would you say it's been since you put the last camera down?" I inquired, my heart pounding in my chest.
Lily's brow furrowed as she struggled to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't know, thirty minutes?" she hazarded a guess.
I held up my watch, displaying the time: 3:20 pm. Lily fell silent, her eyes widening in disbelief. She was never great with time, but missing almost three hours of our memory was unprecedented.
"There's no way. Your watch must be—" Lily began, her voice trailing off as she checked her own watch, only to freeze in shock when she found it displayed the same time as mine.
"Lil, something is going on," I stated, my voice tight and apprehensive. I glanced up at the sky, my stomach churning as I noticed the clouds darkening and rolling in from all sides of the valley.
The sky closed rapidly, ominous clouds obscuring the sun as thunder rumbled ominously against the mountains.
"Mark? Mark, where are—" I began to call out, but before I could finish, Mark emerged from behind a wall, appearing as if he'd been too frightened to venture far on his own.
"We have to get inside!" Mark exclaimed urgently, his voice tinged with fear.

Ten minutes into graduation, my friends were already dead.
Ten elephants.
I was soaking wet, my dress glued to me.
Nine elephants.
Forcing myself into a run, I tripped over my heels.
Eight elephants.
Fuck.
Seven elephants.
There was no point in counting, but counting felt normal.
Six elephants.
Counting felt like I was going to escape.
Five elephants.
Survive.
Noah’s blood painted my face.
He still felt alive, warm, swimming in my vision. I could still see cruel silver being plunged into his chest, rivulets of red pooling down his lips and chin.
Four elephants.
Noah told me to run, so here I was…
Three elephants.
Running.
Forcing myself to breathe, I swiped blood from my eyes.
Two elephants.
Twisting around, I scanned the empty school hallway for movement.
One elephant.
Annalise’s brains dripped down my face.
I was picking pieces of her skull from my hair, tiny pearly splinters stuck to me.
Annalise was sucked down the pool drain, her body mincemeat on my dress.
Her grisly remains were floating on the surface, painting illuminated water in a striking, almost breathtaking red.
Noah was sliced apart right in front of me.
They were dead.
Slamming my fists into each classroom, my shriek caught between my teeth.
Help me.
The lights were off, which meant she was close.
Reaching the end of the hallway, I could hear laughter and familiar whoops coming from the auditorium.
The class of 2015 were graduating and I was going to fucking die.
The main entrance was locked, barricaded from the outside.
Taking two steps back, I slipped out of my heels, kicking them off.
The classroom at the end of the hall was open, spilling warm light that coaxed me forward, hypnotised by the illusion of safety. With no choice, I staggered toward it and pushed the door open.
Stepping directly into warm entrails squelching between my bare toes, I had to bite back a cry. Mari hung upside down above me, her body swaying back and forth, strung up like meat to the slaughter. The girl had been gutted straight through her designer Diana mini, her glistening remains sparkling under unearthly light. Mari’s eyes were still open, lips parted as if to warn me.
For a dizzying moment, I was paralysed.
A door banged shut, running footsteps, heavy panting breaths.
“Fuck!” a familiar accent cried out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I could hear him slamming his hands into classroom doors.
“I need… I need help!”
The voice should have been comforting, but I was already seeing an opportunity to hide myself.
Swallowing barf, I leapt over glistening red entrails and dropped onto my hands and knees, crawling under a desk, gagging my own panting breaths.
The door swung open, and I buried my head in my arms, risking a peek.
Isaac Redfield stumbled through the door, immediately falling to his knees, his head buried between his legs.
He was sobbing, choking on breaths suffocating him. Issac looked helpless, hopeless, before his gaze caught mine.
I thought Isaac was dead.
The last time I saw him, he was being violently dragged into the janitor's closet. I could see where he'd narrowly missed being butchered, a gaping hole ripped straight through his suit jacket.
He was covered in the remnants of Noah, grisly scarlet turning him into more of a canvas than human, thick brown hair hanging in wide, almost unseeing eyes barely penetrating mine.
Isaac pressed a finger to his lips, his voice bleeding into a shaky breath.
”Don't… say… a… fucking word”.
The door opened, two familiar boots stomping through.
Issac twisted around, forcing himself to unsteady feet.
I could only see her slick black shoes.
The woman pivoted on her heel and started towards Isaac.
“Ahh, fuck,” his hiss broke out into a sob.
I watched him do a little dance backward in an attempt to distance himself. But he was just backing into a corner, staggering over himself.
His hand shot out, blindly grasping for a weapon, a chair leg, but her boots continued, stomping towards him.
Isaac tried to throw himself past her, but she was so fast, reaching out and grabbing the boy by his neck, her fingers pulverising. His arms flew up to peel her hands from his throat, but she was choking him. When Issac’s arms went limp, she slammed him into the window, and my body coaxed me to move, to run. Isaac was half conscious, spluttering blood, his head hanging.
Run.
But I couldn't.
I watched, my hand suffocating my screams, as she lifted him into the air, his feet dangling, his breaths coming out in choking pants. I saw the silver glint of her knife, and then the streak of scarlet painting the wall behind him.
I heard the exact moment the blade went in.
Isaac’s panting breaths became wet gurgles, his dangling legs going limp.
The slow stemming puddle of red accumulating across marble snapped something in my mind. I forgot how to run, to move my legs, to even breathe.
When Isaac’s body hit the ground with a meaty smack, I shuffled back, but the scarlet pool followed me running wet and warm under my fingers. I could see where his throat had been slashed open.
Isaac’s head was turned at an angle, his dead eyes staring directly at me.
I was trying to feel for a pulse when the desk I was hiding under was kicked aside. There she was when I dared lift my head. The woman in the black suit.
She resembled a shadow with a human face, dark blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, brandishing a pinstripe suit.
I watched her brutally murder my friends, one by one, no mercy, no I'm sorry, or even an explanation.
She butchered Annalise in the swimming pool, gutting Noah and Mari, and now Isaac.
Her expression was vacant. There was no motivation behind her killing them.
If there was, she would have worn the face of a psychotic serial killer, thirsty to spill blood.
She would have laughed as they ran, revelled in their fear and the startling inevitably of their own demise.
But she didn't.
Instead, the woman in the black suit stalked after them. She never stopped, never faltered, until they were all dead.
Until their breaths were thinning, their blood staining her hands.
The woman did not smile when she wrapped her hands around the curve of my neck and slammed me against the wall.
I saw stars going supernova, trying to suck in oxygen, her relentless grip tightening.
Black spots speckled my vision, and I was half aware of the ice-cold prick of silver sinking into my flesh. She was slow. Slow enough for me to count each of my lingering breaths, watching my own blood soak the front of my dress.
When she dropped me, I landed on my stomach. But there was no pain.
It felt like dreaming, choking on words that wouldn't come out.
Weird, I thought, my eyes flickering.
I counted ceiling tiles, dizzily, a slow spreading darkness pricking at the corners of my vision.
Last time, Isaac died first in the swimming pool.
Noah managed to stab the bitch in the back, only for her to chase him to the main entrance, gutting him on the spot.
The woman in the black suit loomed over me, while I focused on breathing.
Only for her to deliver one last fuck you blow to my head.
My vision contorted, and I sunk into the ground.
Straight into oblivion.
That spat me back out.
“Bonnie!”
I was numb to my mother’s voice.
I used to wake up screaming, my hands around my throat clawing for wounds that were no longer there.
Now I was somewhere between acceptance and losing my fucking mind.
For a while, I didn't move, lying on my back and considering suicide.
I never had the guts to actually go through with it though.
Being murdered is one thing, but actually doing it yourself is another.
“Bonnie!” Mom’s voice was louder, and I mocked her words.
“Get up! Sweetie, I made your favorite! Chocolate chip pancakes!”
I paused, counting elephants.
I had mastered the ability to perfectly mimic her tone.
“And don't forget to thank Mrs Benson for that beautiful dress! You know she really wants you to attend graduation!”
Mom was right. I couldn't afford a decent dress, so my teacher offered.
But after being hacked apart, drowned, bisected, choked, and having my throat slit in different variations, I can't say I was thrilled to wear it. The dress was ruined every time, reduced to tatters clinging to me.
Rolling over in bed, I pulled my phone from my nightstand.
Always the exact same notification illuminating my home screen.
GRADUATION DAY!! :)”
I fucking hated that notification.
Unknown number flashed up on screen.
“Hello?” I mumbled.
“How'd you die this time?”
Isaac Redfield's voice was muffled slightly. I think he was brushing his teeth.
“My throat was slit,” I said. “You?”
“You should know,” I heard him spit. “I mean, you did watch me fucking die.”
“That wasn't my choice.”
He spat again. “Does the woman in the black suit seem….familiar to you?”
I wasn't sure if he was screwing with me.
“Yes.” I said, dryly.
“No, not like that,” Isaac groaned. “I mean, don't you, like, recognise her? I swear I've seen this woman before.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I revelled in the slow passage of time.
7am to 8am was my favourite part of the day. I used to freak out, trying to leave town and find the best hiding place. Now, I just lay down and vibed.
There was something both terrifying and yet weirdly peaceful about knowing whatever happened, I was going to die.
“Dude, I've definitely seen her.”
I rolled onto my face. “Is that before she started brutally killing you in a never ending groundhog day, or after?”
Isaac paused, and I buried my head into my pillow. “Um, both?”
“Both?”
He was either going crazy or onto something.
I wasn't counting on the latter.
Isssc’s deaths were the most brutal. I wouldn't be surprised if the trauma had knocked something loose in his brain.
“Yeah.” his laugh was nervous, more of a splutter. Throughout our situationship, I had come to know his laughs well.
I knew his fake laugh, his trying not to cry laugh, his trying not to laugh laugh. I even knew his I’m losing my fucking mind, I'm going to die laugh.
But I didn't know his real laugh.
“Does that sound crazy, or…?”
Instead of answering him, I ended the call.
At breakfast, I could still taste my own blood.
Mom hovered over me, blonde streaks of hair hanging in her face.
Dressed in her fluffy pink bathrobe, my mother should have been a comfort.
However, I was yet to forget the seventh loop when I broke apart and told her about what was happening.
Mom immediately called the doctor, convinced I was having a psychotic break.
He said there was nothing wrong with me and let me go to school.
Where I was murdered.
Again.
That time, she didn't kill us individually, instead forcing us on to our knees and bleeding us out, one by one. I think I became desensitised to death, to everything, when I was forced to watch Mari choke on her own screams, her head forced forwards, a blade brutally protruding through her.
*Don't forget to thank Mrs Benson for the dress, honey,” Mom said, refilling my juice.
I nodded, struggling to swallow pancake mush.
A sudden knock on the door woke me up.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
For a moment, I was frozen, my hands squeezing around my glass, before a familiar head of brown curls appeared.
Isaac Redfield, barely awake, still in his pyjamas.
Following suit, Mari Cliffe and Annalise Chatham.
Isaac went directly into the refrigerator hunting for food. Annalise took an uncertain seat at the table, and Mari stood with her arms folded, her wide, frenzied eyes drinking in my kitchen.
Isaac Redfield was the British exchange student who nobody could understand at first, his accent rocketing him up the high school hierarchy. The guy was also known for dealing candy, and getting into unnecessary arguments with teachers. Alongside Isaac, Mari Cliffe, captain of the girl’s soccer team, and Annalise Chatham, our school’s version of horse girl, were unlikely friends.
They used to be strangers, kids I’d pass in the hallway.
After being brutally killed together in a never ending graduation day cycle, we had become surprisingly close.
When we were hiding in the janitor's closet, Isaac spilled to us that he hated the idea of college.
He wanted to travel the world.
Mari was crushing on one of her teammates.
Annalise actually hated horses.
Isaac was secretly scared of Bill Nye.
I had a thing for clowns I wasn't going to go into.
It started as a confessions thing, four strangers pouring our hearts out to each other.
We shared theories.
Isssc was convinced we were actually dead, and this was hell.
Mari suggested we were in some kind of prank show.
I voiced my theory, which was, yeah, we were dead. I was sure we had died on graduation day, and this was fate’s way of giving us companions in the great beyond. Still though, I wasn't sure why fate wanted us to be brutally killed.
Then, there was the mystery of our killer.
The woman in the black suit, our own personal angel of death.
“Morning,” Isaac greeted me with a sleepy smile, running his hands through his hair. He ignored my Mom’s wide eyes. “Thanks for leaving me to die.”
I thought back to him crouched in front of me, his face splattered in Noah, index pressed to his lips. Don't move.
“You told me not to move.” I said through a mouthful of pancakes.
Issac’s lips curled. “Yeah, because I was expecting you to move your ass.”
The boy helped himself to my pancakes, shovelling them down with maple syrup.
I wasn't used to the others actually coming to my house. That never happened. We either met up at school, or were killed before we even saw each other. I knew Isaac was secretly pissed.
It wasn't the first time I had thrown him under the bus. Still, I was yet to forget him ‘accidentally’ drowning me nine graduation days ago.
He said it was an accident, but I definitely felt him shove my head under the water so he could make a run for it.
“There wasn't enough room under the desk,” I told him pointedly, gesturing to my mother, who I think was still trying to register three strangers walking into her kitchen unannounced. Mom had been vocal about me finding friends since freshman year, but I don't think she was expecting these friends.
Mari was well known around town, our girl’s soccer team dominating the local gazette.
Annalise’s father was the principal of our school. She was also the 2014 pageant winner.
Isaac was more infamous, especially for his ‘candy’.
“What?” Isaac shrugged, shooting my Mom a grin. “It's not like she's going to remember me, anyway.” he offered her a two fingered salute, “Sup, Mrs Haverford.”
To prove his point, Isaac straightened up, grabbed my phone, and threw it in the microwave.
Mari chucked a banana at his head.
“We get it.” she said with an eye roll.
“You don't need to resort to blowing things up every single time.”
Isaac responded with stubborn British noises, but she was right.
On our third graduation day, Isaac thought we could kill the woman in the black suit by blowing her up with science equipment.
Instead, he blew himself up, leaving the rest of us to her mercy.
Mom seemed to snap out of it, her smile broadening.
“Oh! You didn't tell me you were bringing friends over!” Mom immediately entered mother mode.
“Do you kids want breakfast?” she asked them, her voice high, almost shrill.
Narrowly avoiding my mother pulling out baby pictures, I coaxed her out of the kitchen. The last thing she said, before I shut the door on her face, was, “Don't forget to thank Mrs Benson for the–”
When we were alone, Mari took centre stage, hoisting herself onto the counter.
The girl was a natural leader, so of course she was our spokesperson.
Mari absently ran her hands through strawberry blonde hair.
“We tried your idea,” she nodded to a sick looking Annalise. “We tried running, and that crazy bitch still got us.”
Annalise wrapped her arms around herself, avoiding Mari’s gaze. “It was a suggestion. I didn't think she was that fast.”
“I still think she's a sleeper agent,” Isaac muttered into his glass of juice.
Mari raised a brow. “Okay, but why would a sleeper agent go after five random high school students?”
He shrugged, his lips curving into a smile.
“Maybe it was an order.”
He dragged out the latter word, so it sounded more like, “Ordahhhhhhhh.”
“But who made the order?” Annalise spoke up.
I nodded. “The government, or the shadow government don't go after high school kids.”
Isaac leaned forward, comfortably resting his chin on his fist. “Soo, what do we do now? If we can't beat whatever this thing is, what do we do?”
Die.
That is what we did.
For ten consecutive graduation days.
I woke up. I ate breakfast (pancakes and orange juice), I went to school, and I was murdered.
I was hacked apart, burned alive, drowned, impaled, and beheaded.
And nothing worked.
Our plans to run failed.
We tried to get to the roof, but she was always there waiting for us.
The latest loop, I was actually hopeful.
Isssc’s plan to lure her to the downstairs gym was going well, and it was the first time I'd survived past 3pm.
It was an adrenaline rush. 3pm had never looked so fucking beautiful.
The plan was simple.
Annalise, Mari and me standing in plain sight the whole time, and Isaac luring our killer to the downstairs gym.
When I got the confirmation text that Issac had trapped the woman in the closet, the three of us continued our plan, which was to set off the fire alarm, and alert the police of the intruder.
Informing the police was impossible initially, because she was always one thousand steps ahead of the five of us.
But Isaac had captured her.
We were in the clear.
That's what I thought.
When we pushed through the doors into the gym, however, Isaac’s cry froze me in place.
“It's a–”
His voice collapsed into panicked muffle screaming.
I took two steps, before I saw his figure running towards me.
Behind him, the woman in the black suit.
Another stumbled step, and he was being dragged back, a hand over his mouth. I didn't think our killer had enough intelligence to turn our own plan back on us, transforming Isaac into a lure for us.
I could see the apology in his frenzied eyes before she sliced her knife through his skull. I didn't even get a chance to mourn him. Isssc flopped onto the ground, rivulets of red pooling down his face. For a second, I was transfixed, hypnotised, by what she had done to him. The back of his head spewed blood like a geyser, a gaping hole splitting the back of his skull open.
I couldn't move, already wanting to surrender.
I shuffled back on my hands, already screaming, wailing like an animal.
10.
I counted elephants, just like my mother told me.
9.
My gaze was glued to Isaac, whose body was still twitching.
8.
His glassy eyes, scarlet trails running down his face.
7.
The woman was fast, waiting for me to try and run.
6.
5
4.

I was on my knees, and the door was so far away.

“Just breathe, honey.” Mom used to tell me.
“Keep counting elephants.”
Mari’s scream rattled in my ears.
I remember ice cold arms wrapping around my waist, the sensation of something sharp. I didn't feel the pain, only wet warmth running down my face. It felt like rain. Annalise’s crying was enough of an anchor, but my vision was already going foggy. I wasn't sure where the fatal wound was, though I guessed it was my head, just like Isaac.
The woman in the black suit floated in front of me like a spectre.
Once again, her fingers wrapped around my neck, swinging me like a toy.
“Bonnie!”
I was aware of Mari’s thundering footsteps coming toward me.
Suddenly, pain.
Pain like I had never felt, pain that puppeteered my body, wrenching my head back, my lips forming an O.
Part of me could still feel it, the blade digging deep into my skull.
She twisted it, and I screeched, my mouth full of pancake mush.
Again, this time clockwise, and I felt my body go numb, my head hanging.
I could hear the sound of my skull splintering apart.
The woman in the black suit didn't just want to kill us.
She wanted to make us fucking suffer.
Reality contorted, and I was back in bed at home, screeching into my pillows before my body could hit the gym floor.
I think that was when I started to lose my mind.
I began to distance myself from the others, like we were strangers again.
The woman in the black suit hunted me down to the girls bathroom where I was hiding, drowning me in the toilet bowl.
Then, she came straight into my house when I refused to go to school, suffocating me with my stuffed rabbit.
Luckily, Isaac and Mari forced their way in.
Isaac was stabbed in the stomach, and Mari, impaled by a fucking hairbrush.
I had no idea you could be impaled by a hairbrush.
Isaac’s lifeless body dropped onto mine.
His expression almost made me laugh, like he was mid eyeroll.
Hysteria crept up my throat, days, months, years, centuries, of the same fucking day finally catching up to me.
I was shrieking with laughter when I was bludgeoned straight through the mouth.
“Bonnie!”
7am.
This time, I rolled onto my side, spewing up the taste of blood.
"Get up! I made your favorite! Chocolate chip pancakes… “
Mom’s voice felt and sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Swiping stale barf from my chin, I took one look at my graduation dress and burst out laughing. Then I tore the thing to shreds, stuffing the tattered remains in my bedroom drawer.
Mom appeared when she wasn't supposed to, hovering in my doorway.
In her hands was a laundry basket, but looking inside, it was filled with flour and eggs.
Mom’s smile was wide. I wondered if she was having a mental breakdown.
“Bonnie, did you remember to say thank you to Mrs Benson–”
I cut her off, swallowing a shriek. “For the dress,” I said. “Yep. I’m going to.”
That day, I stepped into school wearing a curtain and crocks.
“That's not a good idea,” Isaac stood behind me, wearing his usual tux.
His smile was weak. I think he'd stopped with the fake optimism.
Now, I was seeing the real him.
Real Isaac was kind of an asshole, but real subtle about it.
“Do you really want to die wearing a curtain? How are you going to run?”
I glimpsed a knife stuck in his belt. “Are you planning on being the hero?”
“Nope.” he shot me a sickly smile. “It's to defend myself.”
Four hours later, the two of us were sprinting down the hallway.
I wielded Isaac’s knife, Isaac stumbling with a head injury I didn't dare look at.
Issac narrowly missed drowning, managing to claw his way out of the pool. I didn't see him hit his head on the side when our killer threw herself on top of him, but I did hear the sickening crack of his face hitting stone tiles, all of the breath being violently knocked from his lungs in a strangled, “Oomph!”
She tried to drag him into the water, only for him to kick her in the face.
Mari was dead, half of her torso in the swimming pool.
Annalise was hiding, but I didn't have hope for her.
“You said we might be able to drown her!” Isaac, soaking wet and pissed, tried each classroom door, with all of them being locked as usual. He twisted around to me, his lips set in a silent cry.
His head was bleeding, bad, a scary looking gash in his forehead.
I was watching a single thick rivulet running down his face when he shoved me.
“Why did you push me into the pool?”
It was payback.
For him drowning me 176 Graduation days earlier.
“You falling into the pool was a distraction.” was all I could choke out.
He didn't believe me. I could tell by his eyes, twitching lips trying not to smile.
“You have a really bad head injury,” I whispered, tugging him into a power walk.
I realized the guy had some serious confusion when Issac laughed.
“I know,” he slurred, “I feel kinda…dizzy.”
I thought he was going to burst out laughing again, when familiar stomping boots brought us both to a sobering halt.
Issac slammed his hand over his mouth, his eyes widening. He slowly moved the two of us back, his clammy fingers entangling with mine. “Fuck,” he muffle whispered. “Did she hear us?”
When the booted footsteps got louder, we had our answer.
Pushing Isaac into the next open classroom, I catapulted myself into a sprint, cold hands suddenly gripping my shoulders and tugging me backwards.
“Shhh. It's me.”
Noah Locke.
He distanced himself after being sliced apart right in front of us. Noah was the quiet kid, a short and stocky boy with reddish hair and glasses. I wanted to ask where the hell he'd been, when I glimpsed the kitchen knife in his fist.
Noah’s smile was sickly. “Do you trust me?”
He pulled us into a classroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Isaac’s cries followed us, and I resisted covering my ears.
“I'm sorry,” Noah said, before slitting my throat.
This time, it was fast.
I fell.
Down.
Down.
Down.
I waited for Mom’s voice to wake me up, but when consciousness did come over me, I wasn't in bed. I had zero idea where I was, only the sensation that I was floating. Opening my eyes, I was inside a glass tank, suffocating in a thick goo-like substance, my hair spread out around me in a halo.
When I panicked, my body jerking awake, warm hands wrapped around me, pulling me out.
I hit open air, my lungs expanding, and I hacked up blood streaked water.
Noah helped me sit, the two of us leaning against my tank.
He was soaking wet, his skin glistening with that foul smelling solution.
I took a second to drink in my surroundings.
A large room filled with human-sized tanks.
Reaching to the back of my neck, I gingerly prodded at what felt like an incision. I stood up slowly, my gaze already finding the tank next to mine.
Mari.
The girl was suspended in water, her eyes closed, lips parted peacefully.
“They tried to escape a while ago,” Noah murmured, his gaze glued to another tank.
Isaac.
His cheeks were a sickly pallid colour, eyes closed. There was something attached to the back of his head.
“But they're in the school,” I managed to get out. “I was just with Isaac!”
“You were with a null version of Isaac,” Noah didn't look at me. “The one who kept leading you to your death, even if it seemed accidental. He was playing you.” he buried his head in his knees.
“The real Isaac figured this wasn't real a long time ago.”
“Real Isaac?”
“Yeah. The one you've been with is more of a copy of him,” Noah sighed, leaning his head against Mari’s tank.
He spat out slime, adjusting his glasses.
“Think of him more as a shell, empty of his mind. This Isaac follows orders like an NPC. He had the guy’s memories and traits, but he was just a program.”
Too much information at once.
“I don't understand.”
Noah tipped his back, groaning. “You don't need to.”
He got to his feet. His eyes were dark, hollowed out caverns I couldn't recognise. “I'm sorry,” Noah said again, wrapping his hands around my neck and pinning me into one of the tanks.
Just like the woman in the black suit, Noah pressed enough pressure for me to suffer.
When he slammed my head against the tank, I felt my body shut down.
I could still feel him, his fingers squeezing the life out of me.
Darkness came soon after.
Swirling oblivion that swallowed me up, and then spat me out.
This time, I spluttered awake, cuffed to a bed inside a white room.
Surrounding me were fifteen gurney like beds.
“I don't know how deep we are,” Noah’s voice startled me.
The boy stood over me, this time dressed in shorts and t-shirt.
“What?” I tried to jump up, but I was strapped down.
“Miss Benson.” his voice broke. “She didn't want us to graduate, so she put us under.” he swiped at his eyes, gulping down sobs. Noah slumped down onto my bed. “I thought I could wake us up by killing ourselves instead, but we’re stuck.” I noticed the scalpel in his hand.
“The last thing Isaac told me was that we had to get back to the surface.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “But I don't know how deep this thing goes.”
Tugging against the velcro straps pinning me down, I held my breath.
“Deep?”
“Yeah.” he spluttered. “We’re pretty far under.”
With a heavy breath, he drew the blade across his own throat with just enough precision to keep himself breathing.
Deep red spotted the blanket, and the boy broke down.
“I can't wake us up,” Isaac whispered, grabbing a pillow and pinning me to the bed. I tried to shove him off of me, but he put all of weight onto me, laughing.
“Do you hear me, Isaac?” His hysterical cry followed me into the dark.
“I can't fucking wake us up!”
Death didn't feel like death at this point.
Like drowning, and then finding the surface.
Only to be pulled back into suffocating depths.
Plunging through nothing, empty space with no bottom, no surface.
Endless nothing that expanded, continuing.
Noah’s sobs collapsed into white noise and I felt my writhing limbs go still.
Once again, I waited for my Mom’s voice.
For Graduation Day.
Instead, I awoke with a shriek, strapped to a chair, my hands bound to Noah’s.
“I'm sorry for suffocating you with a pillow.”
He didn't sound apologetic.
This time, we were inside a glass building.
Above us, the sky was pitch dark.
“Where are we?”
“I have no idea,” Noah muttered. “I've never been this far.”
My gaze followed an odd looking bird through the skylight. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, she always takes me back to the start,” he said. “Graduation Day.”
Noah got free easily, tearing himself from his restraints.
The knots around my wrists were impossible. “So, you've been here before?”
“No.” he stumbled. “Isaac has.”
The boy dropped onto his hands and knees, picking up a single shard of glass.
“Isaac said he found a room with a skylight,” Noah murmured, sliding the point between his fingers. His gaze found the ceiling. “Then he went deeper, and his consciousness never came back to us. Mrs Benson sent a mindless fucking copy in his place.”
He got to his feet, the shard clenched in his fist.
“So, if I'm right… Isaac woke up, and Mrs Benson must have restrained the real him.” Noah stepped in front of me.
“And… like Isaac, we will wake up…” His frenzied eyes found mine. “Right?”
I wasn't thrilled with the idea of dying again, but anything to wake myself up.
“Do it.”
He nodded, and I felt the prick of the blade spike my skin.
“Wait.”
Noah stepped back, cocking his head. “What?”
“Why would Mrs Benson do this?” I demanded. “She didn't want us to graduate school, so she did all of this?”
Noah shrugged, playing with the shard between his fingers. “Why else would she do this?”
He pressed the shard into my neck.
“Wait.” I hissed out.
Noah’s frown was patient. “What now?”
“What if this is the real world?” I whispered. “We’ll be killing ourselves. For real.”
Noah’s lips pricked slightly. “Does this world look real to you?”
Before I could reply, he slashed my throat open.
I waited for the reset.
For the sensation of blankets wrapped around my head, and my mother’s voice.
Instead, my body was stiff, my eyes glued shut.
“Bonnie Haverford?” the voice was a low murmur. “Honey, can you hear me?”
There was something stuck in my arm, a sharp, cruel thing pinning me down.
“I did say she was awake, but nobody believed me.”
The British accent was almost a fucking melody.
Prying my eyes open, a figure was looming over me. It was a woman with a kind face, her expression soothing.
A paramedic.
I couldn't make out what the tag on her uniform said, though.
Around me, I could see my classmates wrapped in blankets being escorted to the door. There were fifteen or so futuristic looking pods, and I was lying in one, a plastic mask suffocating my mouth. Isaac stood next to the paramedic, a wary smile on his mouth.
The guy had a scary bandage wrapped around his head.
“Bonnie, right?”
This version of him didn't remember getting to know me.
Isaac pulled me to a sitting position, ignoring the paramedic’s sharp hiss of, “Please leave her where she is!”
A man dressed in white tried to throw a blanket around him, and he shrugged it off.
“I'm fine,” Issac muttered, gingerly prodding his head wound. “I won't be if you keep asking if I'm okay. Jeez.”
Ignoring the adults, he wandered over to the pod in front of me and pulled a half conscious Noah to unsteady feet.
Noah staggered, half lidded eyes finding mine. His smile was sickly.
It worked.
The two of them hugged, Isaac burying his head in the crook of the boy’s shoulder.
I wanted to talk to Noah, but the paramedic seemed pretty insistent that I stayed still so she could check me over.
I was barely aware of my surroundings when I was crawling into the back of an ambulance.
Reality felt wrong, like I was still stuck, still reliving the same day over and over.
But my town was real.
I dazedly watched traffic flying by, the sky darkening.
Time was moving forward again.
The world resumed, and graduation day had been and gone.
14 days to be exact.
Mrs Benson had us trapped for 14 days, and yet to me, it felt like a century.
Mom was at the station, immediately pulling me into a hug.
She put me under house arrest for a week, sentencing me to my room.
According to Mom, our teacher turned herself in.
Apparently, forcing her students into a slasher movie simulator was ‘tugging at her heart’.
I spent most of the summer lying in bed watching Disney movies.
Mom made me breakfast. Eggs and soldiers, just like when I was a little kid.
I was absently dipping my toast soldiers in egg, when she dropped an envelope in front of me. “If you want to testify, sweetie,” Mom had resorted to using her baby voice again, “But remember, you don't have to. It's your choice…”
Mom’s voice faded when I picked up the envelope, opening it up.
My name was printed on the front.
EINOOB DROFREVAH.
I blinked. “They printed my name upside down.”
Mom was behind me, frying more eggs.
“Hmm?”
In the time it took for the envelope to slip from my hand, I was only aware of one thing.
The woman in the black suit was standing in the doorway, her fingers wrapped around an axe. Noah was in front of me one minute, his eyes wide, lips parted in a scream. “It's not–”
The woman was quick to grab him, one hand going over his mouth, the other pressing the blade to his adam’s apple.
Real.
In one singular jerking movement, the boy’s blood was splattering my face, clouding my vision.
The woman in the black suit did not kill me.
She picked Noah up, threw him over her shoulder, and walked away.
“Did you remember to thank me for buying your graduation dress?” Mom asked, handing me a plate of fried eggs.
Her voice, though, felt too close.
Warm breath tickling my cheeks.
“Bonnie, are you listening to me? Did you remember to thank me, sweetheart?”
Reality was far more cruel than dream.
Reality was being unable to move, unable to breathe. It was like coming up for air, but at the same time, I was drowning. The real world was so cold, and yet warm wetness dripped down my chin. I was strapped to a metal table, something plastic lodged down my throat.
Through blurry vision, I could see my body.
I could see that my hair was so much longer, almost down to my stomach.
But there was something wrong.
Prickles of ice slithered down my spine, curls of panic setting my body into fight or flight.
At first, I thought I was in the emergency room.
Except this place didn't have doors.
The walls were sickly green, a bunker transformed into a sicko’s dungeon.
My body resembled a pin cushion, or a little girl’s idea of a doll.
When my eyes found my stomach that was barely being held together by fresh stitches, my mind started to come apart.
Noah was wrong.
Everything that has happened to me, to us, was real.
Being beheaded, ripped apart, sliced into.
Mrs Benson was just good at putting us back together.
My arms were skeletal, wires protruding into my veins.
I could see where I had been cut open, my paper thin hospital gown stained scarlet.
I couldn't count elephants.
Across the room, beds lined the walls.
On them was what was left of my classmates, mangled flesh still strapped down. Some of them had been cut into, severed apart, while others were attached to tubes, wires sticking into their spine and the back of their heads.
The floor was stained, writhing body parts and slithering entrails dried into yellowing tiles.
In the corner of my eye, Mari’s head was hanging open, the pinkish grey of her brain visible through the pearly white of her skull. She was still alive, still twitching in her restraints, plastic tubes full of fluid being fed directly into her head. When a thin river of red slid down her temple, I averted my gaze.
Barf was already in my mouth, splashing into my mask.
Annalise had tubes stuck to her, one eye scooped out, her pretty face mutilated.
Issac.
He was covered with a white sheet, a startling smear of scarlet where his head was supposed to be.
I could see his wrists still strapped down.
Mrs Benson stood in my line of vision, though I did see Isaac’s fingers curl slightly.
My teacher didn't speak when I shrieked through my mask, straining against velcro straps.
Mrs Benson’s smile was the one I used to like.
She lit up our classroom, like sunshine.
“Why don't we count elephants together, hmm?”
I found myself nodding, trusting the sunshine smile.
“One.”
Mrs Benson straightened up.
“Two.”
She strode over to Noah’s bed, replacing his blood soaked pillow with a fresh one, adjusting the tube in his mouth and planting a kiss on his forehead. I could see red dots marked across his skin, circled around his eyes.
“Three.” I found myself saying with her, my thoughts dancing.
Mrs Benson turned to me, her lips breaking out into a grin.
“That's right! Count with me, Bonnie.”
I closed my eyes, swimming in the drugs filling my body.
I was being pulled back down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine…
Sinking through the ground, colours flashed in my eyes.
“Bonnie!”
Mom’s voice startled me awake, a raw cry choking through my lips.
Graduation Day was the same.
Mom made me breakfast.
Pancakes and orange juice.
I went to school wearing my graduation dress.
Isaac walked straight past me, running to catch up with his friends.
Mari ignored my attempt to call out for her.
Annalise ducked her head, hurrying to empty out her locker.
“Hello.”
Noah was standing behind me.
I could have cried.
But when I turned to talk to him, to tell him we were still trapped, his smile was wide, eyes glassy. In his arms was our yearbook. He handed me a pen.
“Do you mind signing it?” Noah chuckled. “I've got everyone but you.”
He opened it up onto the first page.
“It's Noah, by the way!”
Behind him, I glimpsed a familiar shadow, a woman striding towards me.
The lights above flickered, and I could already taste blood in my mouth. Noah didn't even flinch when I dropped the yearbook and stumbled into a run.
His smile was vacant, empty.
Just like he said.
An NPC.
I was already running for my life, and he kept talking to thin air.
When the woman in the black suit sprinted past him, his smile broadened.
“And you are?”

I’ve been rewatching “The Vampire Diaries,” and I can’t shake the feeling that Stefan and Caroline’s relationship just didn’t make sense. It made me think about the parallels between why Elena and Damon ended up together and why Stefan should have ended up with someone like Katherine or Rebekah. Here are a few reasons why their pairing felt off and why Stefan would have been better suited with someone like Katherine or Rebekah.
Why Stefan and Caroline Didn’t Make Sense

1. Lack of Romantic Chemistry: 

Throughout most of the series, Stefan and Caroline had a solid friendship. Their sudden romantic turn felt forced and lacked the deep-seated chemistry Stefan had with other characters like Elena or Katherine. 2. Different Emotional Needs: Stefan’s journey is all about his struggle with his dark side and his search for redemption. Caroline is more upbeat and pragmatic. Their emotional needs and personalities didn’t always align, leading to a mismatch in their relationship dynamics. 3. Forced Development: Their relationship development felt rushed, mainly driven by the need to pair off characters rather than a natural progression of their interactions. It seemed more like a plot device than an organic romance. 4. Residual Feelings for Elena: Stefan’s profound love for Elena was central to the series for a long time. His shift to Caroline seemed to downplay the significance of his previous relationships, making it feel inconsistent with his deep emotional connections. 5. Conflict of Interests: Caroline’s pragmatic and sometimes controlling nature clashed with Stefan’s more introspective and brooding demeanor. Their differences often led to friction, which was downplayed to make them a couple.
Elena and Damon

1. Mutual Growth: • Damon Made Elena Feel Alive: Elena’s relationship with Damon brought out a more adventurous and daring side of her. He challenged her to embrace her vampire nature and live more freely, which contrasted with her initially more cautious and reserved personality. • Elena Helped Damon Become a Better Person: Damon’s journey from a selfish, impulsive vampire to someone capable of genuine love and selflessness was largely influenced by his love for Elena. She believed in his capacity for good and inspired him to strive for redemption. 

Stefan with Katherine or Rebekah

1. Historical Depth with Katherine: 

Stefan and Katherine shared a complex, tumultuous history spanning centuries. Their relationship was marked by intense passion and betrayal. Ending up with Katherine could have provided a full-circle moment, resolving their long-standing issues and giving Stefan a sense of closure. 2. Rebekah’s Similar Past: Rebekah and Stefan shared a history from the 1920s, experiencing similar struggles and understanding each other’s dark sides. Rebekah’s quest for redemption and a normal life mirrored Stefan’s desires, making them a more compatible pair. 3. Balance of Strengths and Weaknesses: Both Katherine and Rebekah had a level of strength, cunning, and vulnerability that matched Stefan’s complexities. They could challenge him, support his growth, and understand his darker tendencies in a way Caroline never could. 4. Consistent Character Arcs: A relationship with Katherine or Rebekah would have been more consistent with Stefan’s character arc. Both women had significant impacts on his life, and rekindling those relationships could have felt more natural and satisfying narratively. 5. Narrative Depth: The dynamics with Katherine or Rebekah would have allowed for richer storytelling. Their complicated pasts with Stefan would provide a wealth of material for exploring themes of redemption, forgiveness, and the complexities of love over time.
Conclusion
Just like Elena and Damon’s relationship allowed for mutual growth and brought out the best in each other, a relationship between Stefan and either Katherine or Rebekah could have offered similar dynamics. Katherine’s challenging nature and deep history with Stefan, or Rebekah’s shared quest for redemption, could have provided Stefan with the complexity and depth that made for compelling storytelling. Both relationships had the potential to be as transformative and enriching as Elena and Damon’s, offering rich narrative possibilities and emotional resonance.
What do you all think? Do you see the parallels or disagree? Also sorry for a long post just the way I can make my points.

My home is a 1920s, 1.5-story home in Minneapolis, approx 2000 sqft. The attic crawlspace has blown-in insulation and ventilation is generally lacking; in the winter, the upstairs storm windows have a thick layer of condensation that freezes during extra cold snaps. We run the bathroom fan downstairs after showers (it doesn't run continuously) and have a portable dehumidifier in the basement.
In the summer, the second floor heats up and is very difficult to cool off, given lack of cross-ventilation. Today's high was 83 degrees and the second floor got to 84. We'll be lucky to get it below 80 before bed and below 75 by morning.
We have window AC units, but it feels wasteful to run them when we're not in the room, so we really only use one in the bedroom during heat waves. Otherwise, we open downstairs windows in the evening and again in the morning, leave upstairs windows open overnight, and shut everything before the day warms.
I've been meaning to install a quiet continuous fan on the second floor to help with the winter condensation. I'm wondering if a whole house fan would be an efficient/comfortable solution in the summer, and if it's suited to the upper Midwest in the winter.
My questions:

• Would a WHF help with condensation in winter, or do we also need an HRV/ERV?
• Would a WHF let in too much cold air during cold snaps?
• Would this be a DIY project or something better left to professionals?
  • The attic only has ridge (and maybe soffit) vents. Do WHFs typically require adding attic ventilation?

This is from The Guardian Newspaper in the UK
As young Zulu boys, Maphamule Ndlovu and Jacob Zuma had much in common. They would herd cattle, kill snakes and learn the warrior code by stick fighting. They would listen to stories of their ancestors around the village fire in the pretty but impoverished hills of 1950s KwaZulu-Natal.
But the lives of the two men, now both 82, could not have turned out more differently. Ndlovu lives alone in a ramshackle building with a leaking roof and no water or electricity, on a diet of bread, tea and porridge.
Zuma became South Africa's first Zulu president. "He was the person who was good-looking and spoke well," recalls his former friend. "He was very determined to be educated."
In a story that rivals anything the American dream has to offer, the Zulu herd boy from one of the country's poorest provinces became the most powerful man in Africa. He did it after serving his time in the liberation struggle and on Robben island. He has proved a resilient political fighter who, floored by fraud and corruption claims and a charge of rape, kept picking himself up off the canvas to finally outmanoeuvre his rivals.
Unlike the scholarly and aloof Thabo Mbeki, who habitually quoted Shakespeare or phrases in Latin, Zuma can dance. He is charming and charismatic and comfortable in his own skin.
He can walk with royalty - Prince Charles is said to have described him as "one of his best friends" - without losing the common touch.
His ability to connect with poor people, black and white, and articulate their concerns about crime and jobs has been compared to that of politicians in the southern states of America. "In a certain kind of way Zuma was our first African president," said his biographer, Jeremy Gordin. "Nelson Mandela transcended everything and was a world figure. Thabo Mbeki spent a lot of time in England wearing pinstripe suits and smoking a pipe. Zuma is a real African."
Many believe that the collapse of legal action against him was a disaster for South Africa's courts. They accuse Zuma of being a political chameleon who tells audiences what they want to hear, reassuring business, courting trade unions and communists, appealing to populist sentiments for the death penalty and against gay marriage. They worry about who will ultimately control him once he is in power. Zuma's Zulu origins can be found amid the undulating hills, valleys and forests, deep ridges and steep gorges of KwaZulu-Natal. It was here that Zuma, the son of a domestic worker and rural policeman, gained the thin scars visible on his face today in a clan initiation.
A real african leader

Some players have ironic nicknames -- like the 6'2" and stoutly built Ernie "Tiny" Bonham; or the comically inept "Marvelous" Marv Throneberry, who was anything but; or Hector "What a Pair of Hands!" Lopez, who made 17 errors in just 76 games as a Yankee third baseman in 1959, prompting manager Casey Stengel to grumble: “If I bench him I bench 93 runs, but I would like better fieldin’ outta my 93 runs.”
There was nothing ironic about the nickname they hung on Walter Brown. "Jumbo" stood 6'4" and at his heaviest tipped the scales at nearly 300 pounds. Just about every sportswriter "weighed in" every time Brown pitched with a new nickname, anecdote, or quip based on his size.
But Jumbo was no joke 91 years ago today. On June 3, 1933, the big man came through big time, pitching 6 1/3 scoreless innings of relief in a game the Yankees were losing 11-3 in the top of the third inning. Jumbo helped his own cause with a two-out RBI single in the bottom of the 3rd, then in the 5th the Bronx Bombers erupted for 10 runs to come all the way back and take the lead! Brown gave up five hits and five walks, but no runs -- though he did allow an inherited runner to score. He struck out 12 and at the plate was 2-for-4 with an RBI to lead the Yankees to an improbable 17-11 victory!
The "late-Babe" era Yankees, 1929 to 1935, won just one World Series -- 1932, when Ruth hit his famous called shot off Charlie Root of the Chicago Cubs. For that matter, it was the only pennant during those seven years, which must have seemed an eternity to a fanbase spoiled by six pennants and three titles in the seven years between 1921 and 1928, and would be again by the seven pennants and six titles in the eight years between 1936 and 1943.
Despite only one title to show for it, the '29 to '35 Yankees still had tremendous players. Ruth, between the ages of 34 and 39, would post a ridiculous 196 OPS+ in his final Yankee seasons; Gehrig, in his prime at ages 26 to 32, was right behind him with a 190 OPS+. Other strong Yankee contributors during this period were Earle Combs (127 OPS+), Tony Lazzeri (125 OPS+), Bill Dickey (122 OPS+), and Ben Chapman (120 OPS+).
But the difference between what had come between 1921 and 1928 and what would come between 1936 and 1943: Pitching. Waite Hoyt, who had been worth 35.4 bWAR between 1921 and 1928, was worth just 0.7 bWAR in 1929, and was traded to the Tigers the following season. Herb Pennock contributed 32.9 bWAR between 1923 and 1928, and just 1.0 bWAR between 1929 and 1933 before his release. Previously forgotten Yankee Bob Shawkey had 18.9 bWAR between 1921 and 1927; in 1929, he was the team's pitching coach, then manager in 1930, then a minor league manager for the organization. Urban Shocker, a "grandfathered" spitballer who averaged 4.4 bWAR a year between 1925 and 1927, was released in 1928 (and would die in September, at the age of 37, from pneumonia). George Pipgras had gone 34-16 between 1927 and 1928; his ERA jumped to 4.08 between 1929 and 1932, and was sold to the Red Sox. Wilcy Moore, who in 1927 had a 2.28 ERA, 19 wins, and a league-leading 13 saves -- even though the save hadn't been invented yet -- saw his ERA balloon to 4.13 ERA in 1929 and was exiled to the minors.
Slowly the Yankees rebuilt their pitching staff, led by Hall of Famers Red Ruffing and Lefty Gomez, two-time All-Star Monte Pearson, and relief ace Johnny Murphy.
But the '29 to '35 era was reminiscent of the 1980s Yankees, when loaded lineups were undermined by a pitching staff composed of faded veterans and struggling rookies. Between 1929 and 1935, the Yankees had forgettable pitchers like Hank Johnson (87 ERA+ in 644.2 IP), Ed Wells (88 ERA+ in 492.1 IP), Roy Sherid (87 ERA+ in 413.0 IP), Danny MacFayden (86 ERA+ in 307.2 IP), and Russ Van Atta (81 ERA+ in 249.2 IP).
Add another name to that list: Walter George Brown, who in his four seasons with the Yankees would go 19-16 despite a 4.74 ERA (88 ERA+) and 1.676 WHIP in 281.0 innings with the Yankees.
While his stats weren't impressive, Jumbo certainly was. For a time the heaviest player in baseball history at a listed weight of 295 pounds, Brown was a colorful character who was on two World Series-winning Yankee teams, though he didn't pitch in either series. He also was among the first "relief specialists", used exclusively out of the bullpen during the end of his career with the New York Giants.
Despite standing 6'4", Brown had stubby fingers which made it difficult for him to grip a baseball, according to The NeyeJames Guide to Pitchers. His fingers were so short that he struggled to throw a breaking ball, limiting him to mostly fastballs.

"Brownie would moodily compare his fingers with those of any chance acquaintance in wistful envy." -- Harold C. Burr, Baseball Magazine

Brown's weight and his never-ending attempts to lose it were frequent newspaper fodder, as were tales of his inadvertently injuring himself or teammates because of his bulk. (It was reported that in 1933, Brown injured teammate Sam Byrd and coach Cy Perkins during "a spirited game of leapfrog" during spring training.)
Brown was born in Greene, Rhode Island. His father was Adelaird Gotcharles, a French Canadian who moved to New England to work in the textile mills and marry Sadie Benjamin. Adelaird died when little Walter was just three years old, and Sadie remarried a man with the last name Brown, which is why we have Jumbo Brown instead of Jumbo Gotcharles.
There are no reports on the high school, if any, that Walter attended, but by 17 he was pitching in sandlot leagues in Massachusetts and was impressive enough to draw the attention of future Hall of Fame infielder Rabbit Maranville, himself a native of Springfield. Maranville, then playemanager of the Chicago Cubs, signed Brown to a contract. But Maranville quit near the end of the 1925 season and the Cubs released Brown after just two games in which he gave up five runs (two earned) on five hits and four walks in six innings.
He pitched the next seven years in the minors, getting a couple looks with the Cleveland Indians in 1927 and again in 1928 (0-3, 6.48 ERA, 2.370 WHIP in 33.1 IP).
It was around this time that Brown, an athletic 197 pounds at 6'4", had a rapid weight gain. In article accompanied by an illustration of Jumbo with the caption "Walter Brown, 265 pound pitcher," Hy Goldberg wrote in The Sporting News that in the off-season between 1927 and 1928 Walter gained 68 pounds, "despite the fact that he worked out for five hours a day in the Y.M.C.A gymnasium." The weight gain, Goldberg said, came after Brown had his tonsils removed.

Two little tonsils, weighing less than a half ounce each, are responsible for Brown's tremendous weight. It is just a phenomenon of nature, and if Brown had known about it, he probably would have kept those tonsils right in this throat, even if he choked on 'em.
Brown may throw a fast ball and a curve and what have you, but he also throws the biggest shadow in baseball.
Walter was coming out of the Yankee clubhouse in St. Petersburg one spring when a dowager raised her lorgnette and remarked, "What an enormous person." That was too much for Brown. He immediately set about trying to reduce.

(A dowager is an elderly widow and a lorgnette is a pair of those "opera glasses", the ones with a handle that rich people use in cartoons.)
The story about getting motivated to lose weight by some old lady's snotty comment sounds too good to be true, but in any event Brown repeatedly tried various methods to lose weight over the years. During the 1939-1940 off-season, sportswriter John Drebinger chronicled Brown's 20-pound weight loss "by reason of a careful diet." It never seemed to stay off very long, though. I'm right there with you, Walter!
Despite the weight, or maybe because of it, Jumbo began to improve in the minors, and went 16-6 with a 2.57 ERA in 210.0 innings as a 23-year-old in 1930. That got the attention of the New York Yankees, who signed him to a minor league contract and stuck him in Jersey City under the tutelage of former Yankee pitcher Bob Shawkey.
"Sailor Bob", as he was known for his service in the U.S. Navy in World War I, was kind of the Matt Blake of his day, specializing in fixing other teams' failed pitchers. Shawkey's most famous pupils were future Hall of Famers Red Ruffing and Lefty Gomez, but a number of pitchers he tutored either as a pitching coach or manager went on to find much more success than they had before him. (George Pipgras, a talented but wild young pitcher, credited Shawkey with his success in the majors, saying "Bob Shawkey has helped me more than I can tell you." When Pipgras won Game 2 of the 1927 World Series over the Pittsburgh Pirates, reporters asked him how he did it. "I didn't pitch the game," Pipgras replied. "Shawkey did." Prior to the game, Shawkey had gone over the lineup with him in painstaking detail, analyzing each batter's strengths and weaknesses.)
Despite a 10-12 record, Brown pitched to a 2.88 ERA in 203 innings in the highly competitive International League, and the following year the Yankees called him back up to the Show for the first time in four seasons. He made his second major league debut on May 19, 1932, getting two outs and giving up a walk but no runs in a game the Yankees lost, 8-6. He continued to pitch out of the bullpen the rest of the season, usually in lost causes, and he allowed 27 runs (22 earned) on 37 hits and 18 walks in 28.2 innings. Not good.
But it didn't really matter. The 1932 Yankees went 51-24 over the first half to open up a 9-1/2 game lead by the end of June, and they could afford to be patient with Jumbo. With two weeks left to go in the season, the Yankees were up 13 games and just thinking about October. Brown was given three starts in the last 12 games and he responded, going 3-0 with a 0.96 ERA and 1.00 WHIP and three complete games; he allowed a miniscule .214/.274/.255 OPS in those 28.0 innings. Overall, he went 5-2 with a 4.53 ERA (91 ERA+) in 55.2 innings.
He was on the World Series roster that year but didn't appear in a game as the Yankees rolled in four games over the Chicago Cubs, with Babe Ruth famously calling his shot in Game 3. The Yankees only used six pitchers in the four games!
From the bench, Jumbo had a front row seat to one of the most famous home runs in baseball history. Asked if Ruth really did call his shot off, Brown's daughter Walda said:

“He was frequently asked if Babe Ruth really pointed to where he intended to hit the ball. Dad swore he did. ‘Absolutely,’ he’d say. ‘I was there. I watched him do it.’”

The following year -- reporting to spring training at a reported 265 pounds -- he was used in a swingman role, going 7-5 with a 5.23 ERA in eight starts and 13 relief appearances for a total of 74.0 innings.
Disappointed with his results so far, the Yankees sent Brown back to their pitching guru, Shawkey, now managing the Newark Bears. Under his watchful eye, Jumbo went an astounding 20-6 with a league-leading 2.56 ERA in 239 innings. He ended the year riding a 33 consecutive scoreless innings streak.
Naturally, Brown returned to the majors the following season. He went 6-5 in eight starts and 12 relief appearances in 1935, with a 3.61 ERA and 1.500 WHIP, but 1-4 with a 5.91 ERA and 1.906 WHIP in three starts and 17 relief appearances in 1936. The Yankees began their return to dominance that season, beating the Giants in six games, the first of four straight championships. Once again, Brown was on the roster but did not pitch as the Yankees again used just six pitchers in the Series.
In 1937 the Yankees sent him back down to the minors, but on June 6 sold his contract to the Reds, and after a month and just four appearances they sold him to the Giants.
It was with that other New York team that Brown finally found success. In five seasons, used exclusively as a reliever, Brown went 13-12 with a 2.93 ERA (132 ERA+) and 1.276 WHIP. Though no one knew it at the time, as the statistic wouldn't be invented for another 25 years, Brown led the league in saves in 1940 with seven and again in 1941 with eight.
After the 1941 season, the 35-year-old Brown was traded by the Giants to the Cardinals, but he never pitched again. Instead he worked for Grumman during World War II. After the war, he opened a sporting goods store in Freeport, but he went out of business by 1953. But he made a go of it long enough to found the Freeport Little League.
Later he worked as a supervisor at Jones Beach, wrote a baseball column for the Nassau Reporter, and enjoyed fishing and crabbing.
Still overweight and a heavy smoker, Brown developed cardiovascular issues and died of a stroke following a bout with pneumonia in 1966. He was 59.
Overall, Brown was 33-31 with a 4.07 ERA (99 ERA+) and 1.539 WHIP in 597.1 innings in 12 seasons stretched out over 17 years.
Mumbo Jumbo

• Going by official listed weight, which is sometimes wildly inaccurate, the 295-pound Brown was the heaviest player in major league history until the 300-pound C.C. Sabathia made his MLB debut on April 8, 2001. Sabathia was surpassed on September 6, 2005, by 320-pound first baseman Walter Young.
  
• Sportswriters laid it on thick when it came to descriptions of and nicknames for Brown, using words like "elephantine like", "giant sized", "Big Brownie", "big fellow", "Walter the Whale", "big boy", and "man-mountain". Another reporter called him "the man who swallowed a taxi cab." But maybe the most evocative description was "an athletic Oliver Hardy."
  
• "Brown is called Jumbo by his fellow performers, so further description is unnecessary," Hy Goldberg wrote in the April 19, 1934 issue of The Sporting News.
  
• Apparently it was in his genes. Walter's daughter, Walda, said her grandmother Sadie was 6' tall and close to 300 pounds.
  
• Enos Slaughter said Brown's enormous bulk actually helped him deceive batters. "When he released the ball it would come outta that big ol' body of his and I would lose flight of the ball," Slaughter said.
  
• During spring training in 1932, Brown was hit in the stomach by a line drive and sidelined for a couple of days. We can only imagine the jokes that were made about that one.
  
• "Different Browns: Walter Brown, New York Yankees pitcher, weighs 265 pounds, while Walter Brown, Red Sox hurler, weighs 165," New Jersey's The Daily Record pointed out on May 17, 1933.
  
• The Walter Brown they were referring to was Walter Page Brown, a minor league pitcher who was in spring training with the Red Sox that year but didn't make the team after developing a sore arm. The not-so-Jumbo Walter Brown never made the Show, but he pitched in the minors from 1927 to 1935. His best season in 1931 when he went 19-12 with a 2.89 ERA for the Montreal Royals in the International League. This Brown went to Brown, as in Brown University.
  
• "Charles Devens and Walter Brown, Yankee pitchers, suffered from the discomfort of severe colds at St. Petersburg last week," The Sporting News reported on March 16, 1933. "It was pointed out that Brown, weighing 265 pounds or thereabouts, had the bigger cold of the two."
  
• In 1937, under the headline "Brown Hard to Suit," the Newark Evening News reported the Newark Bears couldn't find a uniform big enough to fit Brown, and as a result he couldn't take the field. The team finally procured a uniform from a player named Bob Kline, who was listed at 200 pounds, declared himself to weigh 235, and almost certainly weighed a lot more than that... though not as much as Jumbo. The uniform fit, but just barely. “By stretching a point here and there, mostly there, Mr. Brown is able to wriggle into Mr. Kline’s uniform," the newspaper reported.
  
• When they could find a uniform that fit him, Brown wore #19 in 1932 and 1933, and #17 from 1935 to 1936. #19, currently assigned to Jon Berti, was previously worn by Masahiro Tanaka (2014-2020), Ramiro Pena (2009-2011), Aaron Boone (2003), Luis Sojo (1996-2001), Dave Righetti (1981-1990), Dick Tidrow (1974-1979), Fritz Peterson (1967-1974), Bob Turley (1955-1962), and previously forgotten Yankee Grandma Johnny Murphy (1934-1946).
  
• #17 is currently worn by manager Aaron Boone. It was last worn by a player in 2017, Matt Holliday. It also was worn by Shelley Duncan (2007-2008), John Flaherty (2003-2005), Oscar Gamble (1979-1984), Mickey Rivers (1976-1979), Gene Michael (1968-1974), and previously forgotten Yankee Vic Raschi (1947-1953).
  
• In 1933, the Yankees and Senators got into an epic brawl, and the fans at Griffith Stadium jumped out of the stands to join in the fight. Yankee pitcher Lefty Gomez knocked down a man who turned out to be a plainclothes detective; two cops grabbed Gomez, handcuffed him, and dragged him off the field, but he was later released. Brown fared better -- according to The Baseball Hall of Shame 2, by Allan Zullo and Bruce Nash, a grinning Brown returned to the Yankee dugout wearing a policeman's hat and badge!
  
• Pitching in relief for the Giants, Brown didn't lose a game between August 20, 1938, and May 7, 1940, a stretch of 45 games and 85 1/3 innings. It was the franchise record, and as far as I know, still is.
  
• The 1937 World Series was a rematch of the previous year's contest, Yankees vs. Giants, and again the Yankees won it, this time in five games. Brown, on the bench for the Yankees in 1936, didn't pitch in this one for the Giants -- in fact, I don't know if he was even on the roster. If he was, he might be the only player in major league history to have been in back-to-back World Series between the same two teams, once on either side... but never actually playing!
  

When we think of pudgy pitchers in pinstripes, we remember C.C. Sabathia and David Wells and Hideki Irabu. But it all began in the 1930s with one of the heaviest of all time, Walter "Jumbo" Brown. A Yankee worth remembering!

I recently transcribed the lyrics for most of the LGB Music to Bowl By (1991) and wanted to share as the is no other record of the lyrics online. Some things I couldn't make out I have left a blank.
Dance Some More
Give out excuses I'll never let you down
When something comes up you know how to get me down
Turn off the burner if you don’t want the heat
Nothing to do tonight but chopping you beat

Now turn around and take a chance, the girl behind you wants to dance
Grab her and dance some more
dance some more
dance some more

you ready to dance if ____
bobby places where you ride to die
_______

Now turn around and take a change if you’re the only one to dance
______
dance some more
dance some more
dance some more
Sick Fish
Give it away that and you're left with nothing at all,
you can only guess what that is,
give it back and you’ll have 3 less than before
one can understand so __leave it be
leave it be

forever knowing keep it out of the ___
no way of knowing how easily shared ____
All sorts of Numbers fill the space in the pool
Floundering at my feet, fresh fish all day, scales __ fins, and gills, sick fish take fish pills
Floundering at my feet, fresh fish all day, scales __ fins, and gills sick fish take fish pills
Daddy's Girl
You said I could have it, daddy
All you do is just ____ people’s bags, social class is what you lack, you think you'r better than everyone else so what concern is yourself
Daddy's girl
You don’t __ but you walk on the side
but your hair is messed up so you should hide
you put on your makeup with a butter knife
you think your world is full of strife

your Daddy’s gonna get you cash and that’s how it is
and you cake your nose out of nothing of this (?)
Daddy’s gonna get you cash and that’s all you do
and mommas __ probably too

(OH)

Daddy's girl

Christmas comes around but once a year
Daddy gives you a Porsche and a jetbyleer
Look over there someone’s happy than you
You get so jealous that your face turns blue

your Daddy’s gonna get you cash and that’s how it is
and you cake your nose out of nothing of this (?)
Daddy’s gonna get you cash and that’s all you do
and mommas __ probably too
Pinstripe suit
Well here he comes down the street
With his wing tips on his feet
Time he got at his side
Just one thing is on his mind

Gonna blow this bloke away
Blew the deal now you must pay
Lie to me and you will see your life pass before your eyes

In a pinstripe suit

You can run, but you can’t hide
He won’t give you suicide
Have some bitches, bottles of booze
That’s the life that you will lose

He’ll gladly give you what you’ve earned
Right to wrong you'r surely learn
What else did you expect
When You play with fire (Woah)
Have you read the news today
Pinstripe suits he got his way
Did the job he had to do
Seems that the end of you
You’ll be safe no one to blame
You lost it all just short of fame
And know they burry you in a pinstripe suit

In a pinstripe suit
In a pinstripe suit
In a pinstripe suit
Take A Walk
Sit together remember you __
Never taken my advice,
it’s always been the same for you
sign at once and don’t think twice

No one can expect too much
Too soon to tell to want too young
AB-Seeing only his ways
One who’s waiting to be __ -troll

(unintelligible/overlapping)

Just in unexpectedly and meeting at two arm yourself (?)
If the like of _Laugh_ did exist I could see it on your shelf
As the story rolls along, we’ll find that is the same again
The same results as last time round
Relay to time and new a (a friend?)

Which direction do I go/ (overlapping lyrics) can’t last through the whole season / same reason
Take a walk
Make sure you end up far from here
and don’t come back because you already know,
they will laugh at you they always do
They’ll laugh at you (uh huh)

Take into consideration all you’ve lost and how you’ve won
and don’t refrain that I’m a friend don’t turn around cuz I got one

Take a walk
Make sure you end up far from here
and don’t look back because you already know,
they will laugh at you they always do
they will laugh at you (uh huh)

Take a walk
Make sure you end up far from here
and don’t look back cuz you already know,
they’ll laugh at you and continue
they will laugh at you (uh huh)

Take a walk
Make sure you end up far from here
And don’t look back cuz you already know
they’ll laugh at you and continue
they’ll laugh at you (Uh huh)

(FADING OUT)
Take a walk
Make sure you end up far from here
And don’t look back cuz you already know
they’ll laugh at you and continue
they’ll laugh at you (Uh huh)
L.G.B.
(Bowling noises)
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!

Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
Let’s go bowling!
(fades out)
Let's go, Let's go, let's go bowling!

Hey I need help trying to find a movie or tv show is saw as a kid. Basically the plot is that a bus gets taken over by hijackers and cops are outside waiting to storm the bus, they also have a female undercover who is secretly armed on the bus, at some point they decide to kill one of the passengers but they chose a teenager and another passenger volunteered to take his place instead. the second in command takes him outside the bus and shoots him with a pump action nickel plated or stainless shotgun and we se blood spray on the windows the terrorist is a young black man in a pinstripe suit with a red rose in his top pocket or lapel i cant exactly remeber i was like 6 he antagonises the female undercover unknowing of who she really is and tires to flirt with her, his second in command is a white gut with a buzzcut and a stainless/nickel plated 12gauge as stated earlier at the end the female undercover cop ambushes them along with the swat teams outside and she shoots the black guy in the balls. thats all i can remeber

Hi everyone,
I'm moving to Chicago this fall for business school and I want to change my entire wardrobe. This may be a pretty long post and I am going to ask advice for both my formal wear and casual/weekend/everyday wear.
I haven't put a ton of effort into my wardrobe so far and have at best a very basic sense of my own style. I am going to recruit for consulting and hence have to go for business casual/formal for my work wear. Listing down the formal wardrobe below:

1. Navy blue suit with very light patterns- from a distance it's pretty much a solid colour
2. Mid-grey suit with boxed pattern (checkered)
3. Navy blue pinstripe suit
4. Ash suit

My formal shirts would consist of light blue, dark navy blue, black and white shirts. I haven't gotten them tailored yet, just bought the fabric so I would appreciate any advice you guys have.
For my casual/semi-casual wear, I'm thinking of adopting a cross between a preppy look and a more relaxed look like wearing white t shirts and jeans with a denim jacket. The reason for not leaning too heavily towards either tradition is because I don't identify fully with either tradition but lean towards both a little bit.
I'd appreciate a lot any advice towards developing a preppy wardrobe that isn't too "douche-y" while also giving the slightly formal look the preppy aesthetic aims for. The white t shirt and jeans aesthetic (I have no idea if there's a particular category for it) is one I am not fully certain on how to get started with either and could use advice on how to get started with both.
Apologies if this post comes across as a bit juvenile. I'm a long-time lurker here but a bit confused as to how to develop my style and wardrobe as I'm buying a few random pieces of clothing but a strong sense of style and distinct aesthetic can be incredibly helpful for my social life going forward.
Would appreciate any and all help! If you have any photos that'd help as well
Thanks a ton!

Nyx:
Standing outside the bouncing bubble of a dimension, cheery music had me scratching the back of my head. This adventure was going to be a hoot, my presence was the sole one around. Everyone had an excuse today, a bitter wave of hurt dimming my eyes. Plucking my blade from my back, a strong hand grabbed my shoulder. Deerthos waved down at me, his eager grin causing relief to wash over me. Happy to see him, a hearty laugh tumbled from his lips.
“Did you need a little help today?” He inquired with another big smile, a sharpened antler bouncing off of his fur robes. “How about it, my dear pal?” Chuckling to myself, he spoke the word dear. Confusion twisted his features, my humor going over his head. Shaking off the small bit of hurt at the missed joke, we stepped through. Groaning bitterly to myself, the black and white scene of a nineteen twenties cartoon greeted me. Trees and animals bounced up and down while singing, Deerthos’ energy matching my own sea of pure annoyance. A piano played a villain’s song that sounded like we were tied to the railroad tracks. The animals ran away from the incoming storm clouds, the dust threatening to choke us. The villain music picked up, the trees twisting into evil monsters. His chances of surviving the first attack was slim, the energy picking up. Pushing Deerthos away, a bunch of dynamite landed by my feet. Stomping my boot on the inky ground, an ice wall protected me from the blast. Apologizing as I helped him up, immortality wasn’t on his side. Dragging him into the black hole inches from us, hot air lashed at my cheeks as we whistled into a giant vat of black ink. Deerthos tossed me over the edge, ink splattering against a white wall the moment my face met a hard white surface. Whipping the ink off of me, the cartoon effects were aiding me for the first time. Deerthos landed next to me, a quick shake resulting in him being clean. Staring up at the ceiling, hand drawn gears clicked and groaned. Glancing back at each other with matching wicked grins, the antler spun in his palm. Tossing it into the biggest one, a blast of ice began to grind the rest to a stop. Nodding his head towards a ladder in the opposite corner, our footfalls echoed towards the only way up. Scurrying up the rungs, the cartoon had been put on pause. Hiding behind a thickest tree, a sleazy cartoon styled demon lurked with noises to announce his presence. His slicked back oily hair glittered in the light of a bomb, his big cartoon eyes circling around in a creepy way. Staring down at my ruby lace summer dress, the pop of color seemed foreign in this world of black and white. Ink grazed my fingertips, the liquid dripping from the smooth tree. Soaking my dress in the ink, a wave of relief washed over me at the inky goo soaking into the light material. Digging at the grass underneath me, curiosity twinkled in my eyes at the grass flaking away instead of the usual tearing noises. Tapping my blade against my leg, something had to give. Fishing around my pocket, my genuine smile lingered on my face as I lent him my spare dagger. The bone dagger looked right in his palm, the carved wooden hand had the mark of his people.
“Your grandfather passed this onto me. The weapon never quite liked me. Something tells me that it loves you.” I urged with another friendly smile, tears splashing onto my palm. “Forgive me for changing its composition but I infused my feather into the blade. The darn thing should be as tough as you.” Nudging my shoulders, his presence reminded me of an old friend. Whistling in a pinstripe suit, his sinister grin met my defeated scowl. Throwing his bomb in my direction, Deerthos punched the bomb back in his direction. Mumbling a quick drats, the word boom popped up. Floating into the sky, a thin line of ash stuck out of his pants. Sucking in a steady flow of souls, our eyes traced the line to a cage of living humans dangling over a boiling river of lava. Dramatic music drummed to life, his elastic arms snapping into place. How do we destroy the indestructible? Tapping my foot incessantly while thinking, a metallic noise had me grinning ear to ear. Judging by the water sloshing around what seemed like a water tower. Ink washed away with one drop, my brow cocking. Mouthing the words water tower, his wink confirmed our plan. Crashing towards the newly formed body, our punches slid through his body. Falling flat on our faces, attacking him would be pointless. Burying my fingers into the lush grass, ice crept out from underneath my palm. Devouring everything in sight, Deerthos brute strength would help me out. Bouncing up to us in his cartoon form, the ice had made his realm brittle. Rolling over to face that bastard, a silver dagger glinted in his hand. Aiming it for my heart, my boot smashing into the hilt sent him flying back.
“Now!” I shouted over his steady stream of curse words, Deerthos slamming his dagger into the weakest point. Ominous cracks had his arm curling around my waist, his strong arms taking him with me the moment he leapt into the air. His dimension melted into the water sloshing around in the water tower, Deerthos and I catching the remaining survivors. Summoning a slide of ice, our steady hands pushed themselves onto the pine needle riddled forest floor. A ball of black energy burst from the busted water tower, feathers drifting aimlessly the moment I opened up my wings. Pushing off the edge, a chilly breeze nipped at my cheeks. Shock rounded my eyes at Emberon smashing into me, his hands curling around the base of my wings. A tortured wail burst from my lips the moment he ripped them out, the two of us zooming towards the dirt. His flames whisked him away, panic twisting my features. Angling my blade for the dirt, the vibration of the tip sinking into the dirt had me flipping off the hilt. Cursing under my breath, my weapon was too far from me. Sniffing the air, ash confirmed the sulfuric scent of Emberon. Smashing his knee into my back, a fountain of blood exploded from my lips as every organ burst. The cracking of my spine made the moment that much worse, Deerthos catching me on his arm. My blade bounced off his robe, my head shaking at him placing me in front of a tree gingerly. Shoving a vial of his type of medicine into my mouth, a cloud of dirt obscured him running away. Biting down hard enough to shatter the glass, the sweet liquid coated my throat on the way down. Everything doubled, my antlered friend taking the hits with ease. Spirits of his ancestors floated around him, strengthening his every blow. Horror rounded my eyes at a spot opening up, Master Scarston moving him out of the way. Taking the stab to the heart, his broken smile met mine before blood dripped down the corner of his lips.
“Consider this payment for your services, Nyx. The table is yours to command.” He wheezed, raising his scythe over his head. “Make me proud.” Violent sobs wracked my useless body, what remained of the demon floated by my head. Grabbing it with my hands, my ice ate the ball until it shattered into pieces. A limp Mr. Scarston rolled up next to me, his body decaying to jet black butterflies. Fluttering into the sky, the abrupt jolt of my body healing had me crying out in both physical and emotional agony. Bones clicked back into place while my organs weaved themselves back together, the final second allowing me to pop to my feet. A blizzard roared to life, midnight black snow dancing furiously with my increasing rage. My irises darkened to the shade of the darkest night, Deerthos knowing to get out of the way. Charging at him with increased speed, a smug surprise rounded Emberon's eyes at my kick knocking him through a couple of trees.
“How dare you!” I roared brokenly, every teardrop freezing. “Time for you to pay, you rotten bastard!” A wave of his flames headed towards me, terror rounding his eyes at the lack of results. Freezing his next waves, his boots crunched backwards. Raising my foot over my head, inky blood poured from my eyes, ears and nose. Slamming my heel into the ice, spikes impaled him. Struggling to escape, his claws dug into the thickening ice. Marching up to him with a snarl, my claws extended from my fingernails. Digging them into his eyes, his claws shredded my arm. Collapsing onto my ass, his flames whisked him away. The snow lightened to the pure ivory it once was, my blood painted the icy wasteland with every coughing fit. Fresh tears mixed with the blood, the ice catching my forehead. Weeping into the ice, the howling winds covered my endless bout of screams. Sensing Deerthos, his hand rubbed my back. The ice melted in the morning sun, the mud painting my face. Deerthos scooped me up, his arms carrying back into the safety of his territory. The beauty of his world seemed like nothing with what I saw, his steady hands sitting me underneath a hidden waterfall. Chilly water washed away my sins of that day, the corner of my lips quivering. Washing the mud out of my hair, his next words had me staring oddly in his direction.
“I vow to serve you as my master.” He promised with a sad smile, an infinity mark appearing on his palm. “Seeing you lose someone woke me up to the bigger mission at hand. Rest easy knowing that I will never die.” Massaging a natural shampoo in my hair, my eyes darted over to the glistening water. Parting my lips to protest, his head shook with a confident smile.
“I want this. You need me and I need you. Consider it our own special bond.” He chirped cheerfully, looking hopefully in the sky. “He told me to protect you with my life and I always want to be by your side in your war. Your war is mine.” A fresh scent washed away the brimstone tainted death, the rush of the water stealing me into a rough slumber.
Stirring awake in a hotel room, the setting was familiar. Deerthos offered me a ruby Victorian style dress, his tired smile speaking of all that he had done for me. His mouth moved, the words not hitting my ears. Helping me to my feet, his nimble hands peeled off the fur robes he placed over my shoulder. Dropping the modernized style of a dress over my head, the hem floated around my knees. Fussing with the bell sleeves, silent tears dripped off his skull. Spinning around to face him, my thumbs wiped away his tears. Reading his thoughts, the others kicked him out. Shoving him away, his life was destroyed because of me. Why did I do that!
“Sorry.” I blurted out while clenching my fists, the tears never ending. “It’s all my fault your life is ruined.” Waving my concern away, the bed groaned in protest the moment he sat down. Patting the bed, my shaky legs didn’t give me a choice. Please don’t hate me. Never hate me, I pleaded dejectedly to myself.
“The king thing wasn’t my gig. The truth is that I chose you before I became immortal. My cousin took over in my stead.” He admitted with an honest smile, his hands crossing on his lap. “My father told me to follow my heart and I did. You have my loyalty.” Resting my head on his shoulder, the door burst open. Salem skidded in, his nice black suit matching my dress perfectly. Stumbling to my feet, his arms caught me. Burying my head into his shoulder, his loving embrace was all that I needed at that moment. Kissing the top of my head, a bit of warmth returned to my soul. Comforting me with more kisses, he knew what brought me back to life. Lifting up my chin with his finger, his lips pressed against mine tenderly. Getting lost in the moment, the pain slapped me in the face as he released me from his spell.
“You have to keep it together to greet your council.” He encouraged me sweetly, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “Make his sacrifice worth every second of it. I love you, Nyx.” Stepping back, I slid my feet into my boots. I thought I gave him immortality, Madame Maria finding her way in with a broken smile. Someone looked seconds from bursting with a confession, the primary question haunting my mind.
“He drew that mark on his palm whenever he met with you. It never stuck. I suppose death can’t have immortality.” She wept openly, fussing with her onyx suit. “You tried but I told him to tell you. Please don’t be mad.” Opening up my arms, her hair brushed against my cheek in her desperate embrace. Soaking my shoulders with her emotions, God chose to take a friend away from me. Too broken to be infuriated with him, a sad smile haunted my lips. Hiding that secret from me was simply like him, his spirit floating in the corner giving me pause. Asking everyone to leave, no one protested. Walking over to him, I placed my hands on my hips. Fighting a fresh wave of tears, his shoulders shrugged casually. Death should never be this casual, I sighed to myself.
“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” He admitted with tears staining his cheeks, his icy hands cupping my shoulder. “Sorry but I wanted you to be happy and you looked so happy when you saw it. Color painted his pale cheeks, his hand ruffling my hair. A bright light glowed above him, so many questions rested on the tip of my tongue.
“I love you.” I choked out through a wall of tears, his hands cupping my cheeks. “You could have said something and I would have protected you with everything I had.” Kissing my forehead, immortality was something he never wanted. Burying me in one of his bear hugs, his chin rested on my head. Could you never let me go? My heart knew that he would move on the moment he released me.
“I made a deal with God a long time ago. I did my time and now I get to get reborn into a nice life.” He chuckled with his tears soaking the top of my head. “Thanks for everything. Remember kiddo, this isn’t goodbye but another way to see you later.” Floating into the bright light, a numbness came over my face. Moving through the motions of walking through the twisted halls with my support by my side, the others rose to their feet at the sight of me. Bowing in my direction, I took my seat at the head of the table. A scythe necklace waited for me, Maria dropping it over my head. Rising to my feet, they commanded my full respect. Gathering my wits, he left the council to me. Speak like a damn leader.
“Regret haunts me with the fact that Master Scarston died.” I spoke shakily, death glares snapping in my direction. Shouting endless rants in my direction, every breath grew shorter. Leaning onto the table, none of this was fair. Too much loss followed me, the room began to spin around me. Slapping Maria’s hands away, the complaints were hitting me all at once. Ice crept out from underneath my feet, spikes creaking to life around them.
“Shut up! Shut up!” I barked hotly, watching frozen tears shatter onto the table. “He came out of nowhere and took a deadly strike for my friend. That wasn’t my decision and you should know that. Listen to me and listen to me well. I vow to protect you guys with all I have. Our team will always be there for you if monster problems come up. Let’s get to business.” Sinking into my seat, they slid their files over to me. Confused as to what to do, Maria guided me through the paperwork. Swiping their checks, she placed her own on top of the pile.
“We pay our dues to run this operation.” She whispered discreetly, playing with my hair. “Keep up the good work. Their respect lies with you.” Standing straight up, Deerthos stepped up to my left shoulder. Zoning in and out of the meeting, Salem took notes behind me. Rising to their feet with me, they bowed on their way out. Shifting my attention towards Maria, my hands took her. Sniffing the air, a busted smile lingered on her lips.
“Many apologies for your loss, my dear friend.” I apologized for the thousandth time, my palm pressing against her flat stomach. “All isn’t lost. You have a lovely little bat in you. I promise to be there to protect you both with my life. I have to go before I lose my shit.” Turning to leave, her fingers curled around my wrist. Yanking me close to her, mixed emotions had her trembling in front of me. Calm down, friends secrets would always be locked away in my mind
“Don’t tell another soul about this.” She pleaded with the smile I bore when Salem died, my arms burying her into a bear hug. Soaking my shoulder with her emotions, her hands caught the blood soaking my back. Stumbling back with a look of terror and motherly concern, her shaking hands lowered the top of my dress. Rubbing her palms along the bloody nubs, her next question threw me off. How embarrassing for her to see such a filthy mess?
“Does this sting?” She inquired honestly, her tears slowing to a stop. “Do they grow back?” Smiling back at her with the strongest smile I could muster, she had nothing to worry about. The sweetness in her tenderness left me wishing for Scarston’s gentleness all over again. Fighting back the tears, the silence between us was strenuous. Scarston had found himself in my living room quite a bit, his presence brightening the house.
“They grow back. I have a potion at home. If it means anything, I would have traded my wings for his survival.” I sighed tiredly, pulling the top of my dress back up. “If I could rewind time, I would have smashed into him. The information is yours to work through.” Clicking out of the conference room, we would have to meet at the mansion next time. Wishing that I could fly away, I lingered by the window. Sitting on the ledge, my feet dangled freely. Salem embraced me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head.
“If you could fly, the sky would be yours.” He promised sweetly, sitting down next to me. “Is this what it looks like all the way up here?” A warm breeze blew our hair back, his hand cupping mine. Leaning my head on his shoulder, true beauty could be seen in the sky. Touching the stars was like nothing else, abrupt sobs wracked my body. As dark as it may seem, the flames of hope dwindled down to a small flicker.

New Toyota RAV4 GR SPORT
The RAV4 is the latest Toyota model to be made available in a GR SPORT version
Sporty and sophisticated styling and equipment specification inspired by TOYOTA GAZOO Racing, Toyota’s multi-World Championship-winning competition arm
RAV4 GR SPORT suspension retuned for focussed handling performance
Available with a choice of powerful and efficient 2.5-litre hybrid electric or plug-in hybrid electric powertrains
Featuring fully digital driver’s instrument panel and more powerful multimedia system
The Toyota RAV4 has always been at the cutting edge of the car market since it originated the concept of the easy-to-drive, highly versatile recreational SUV almost 30 years ago. Today, it consistently ranks not just as the world’s best-selling SUV, but also as one of the best-selling cars across all types and genres.
Year after year, Toyota has made sure the RAV4 keeps ahead of the game where customers’ tastes and preferences are concerned, adopting new technologies and design thinking to keep the car’s appeal and its capabilities up to the moment. The latest chapter in the RAV4 story is the new RAV4 GR SPORT, an addition to the range that comes with styling and equipment features that express sportiness and sophistication that are inspired by TOYOTA GAZOO Racing – the cradle of Toyota’s mission to create ever-better cars through motorsport.
The GR SPORT theme has already been successfully applied to a wide range of other Toyota models, ranging from Yaris, Yaris Cross, C-HR and Corolla to the mighty Hilux pick-up. The RAV4 now picks up the baton in its own inimitable style.
Exterior Design
A series of exterior design details distinguishes the new RAV4 GR SPORT, broadcasting its sportier character.
The car’s front end makes a statement with the prominent grille finished in the GR-exclusive G-mesh pattern, which creates a deeper 3D-effect. The same pattern is applied to the enlarged fog light bezels, which also have distinctive boomerang-shaped frames, giving added prominence to the vehicle’s strong stance. Adding to this effect, the lower bumper has a dark grey metallic finish, in place of the silver featured on other RAV4 models.
At the rear, the back window’s appearance has been thrown into sharper relief by a gloss black garnish that extends the width of the vehicle, between the glass and the licence plate. The G-mesh pattern appears again in the rear bumper, which also has air-bleeding openings to improve aerodynamic performance. Further emphasising the RAV4’s purposeful look, the lower bumper has a dark grey metallic moulding across its bottom edge.
Discreet GR logo badging on the front grille and back door also signifies the grade.
GR SPORT Wheels
The exclusive GR SPORT 19-inch alloy wheels are engineered for reduced weight and higher rigidity. Their robust, five-double-spoke design stands out with a gloss black finish and a fine line-cutting technique, applied for the first time which creates eye-catching pinstripe detailing around the spokes’ margins.
Colour Choices
The principal paintwork options for the RAV4 GR SPORT follow the famous white, red and black livery of TOYOTA GAZOO Racing’s competition stable. In the case of this road-going model, the options are Platinum White Pearl, Flame Red and Attitude Black. Customers can also opt for Silver and Grey metallic and Dark Blue mica.
The same colours – apart from Attitude Black – are available in a bi-tone finish, combined with a gloss black roof, front and centre pillars and rear spoiler.
Interior Design
The GR SPORT’s interior likewise features styling details exclusive to its status.
The principal colour theme for the upholstery and lining is black, creating an atmosphere that puts the focus firmly on driving. The seats are upholstered in a combination of a grippy, body-holding suede-like materials for the shoulder, back rest and cushion sections and synthetic leather for the bolsters. Silver grey stitching adds a smart contrast on the seats, steering wheel and shift lever. The front seat head rests are embossed with the GR logo in black-on-black.
The sophisticated cabin look is enhanced by dark grey metallic trim details on the steering wheel, air vent bezels and the centre console frame around the shift lever. The GR logo is also applied to the steering wheel and the carpet mats.
The GR SPORT’s high equipment specification includes power adjustment for the front seats and a new version of Toyota’s Panoramic View Monitor, which includes an underfloor view to help the driver check the terrain surface and precisely locate the wheels when manoeuvring at low speed. Further assistance is provided by a new digital reversing camera that provides higher quality real-time images compared to the previous analogue system.
Digital Driver’s Instrument Display
The 12.3-inch driver’s instrument display is fully digital with pin-sharp graphics and the option to customise content to suit the driver’s mood or the journey through four themes: Casual, Smart, Tough and Sporty. The options include three different layouts for the principal meters, while each version keeps a central digital speedometer and shift indicator. The background illumination automatically changes with the selected drive mode.
The display has three distinct multi-information zones. The central section presents the most frequently used information, such as indicators of the car’s advanced safety systems. Those to the left and right provide details of fuel consumption, audio selection and other data; the driver can also personalise the display with a widget highlighting their preferred information.
Multimedia
The RAV4 GR SPORT is fitted with the latest Toyota Smart Connect multimedia system operated using a 10.5-inch touchscreen display. Mounted centrally on the dashboard and shaped to harmonise with the angles of the car’s interior design, the monitor has a seamless black surface and presents graphics in high definition for sharpness and clarity in all lighting conditions.
A permanent, icon-based menu is presented on the driver’s side of the display. Users can also connect their smartphone or tablet to the system – both wired and wirelessly if using Apple CarPlay® or with a wired link for Android Auto®.
The multimedia package includes access to cloud-based journey navigation, which uses constantly updated real-time traffic event information for accurate and efficient route planning. There is also an embedded navigation system that can be used when no data connection to the cloud is available. This has additional functions including highway sign recognition, local weather information and driver alerts when the vehicle is approaching restricted low emission zones (LEZs).
Using voice commands has been made easier with a new “Hey Toyota” on-board voice agent. This will respond to spoken requests to adjust the climate control, choose multimedia options, make a phone call, or open and close the windows. “Hey Toyota” is designed to understand conversational speech, so if you say “I’m cold” it will respond by closing the windows or raising the cabin temperature. With two microphones installed in the instrument panel, the system will recognise and respond to commands from both the driver and front seat passenger. It will also recognise commands amid background noise, so there is no need to turn off the audio.
There is further convenience with any future software tweaks or upgrades delivered seamlessly over the air, via the car’s data communications module (DCM). This means there is no need for the car to be taken to a workshop for a system update. Likewise, the system can be used to update software in the Toyota T-Mate/Toyota Safety Sense.
Remote Services via the MyT App
The driver can access a number of useful functions remotely, via the MyT smartphone app. The familiar worries about whether you have left a window open, the doors unlocked or the lights on after you’ve walked away from your car are addressed with remote notifications to confirm the vehicle is secure. This feature is standard on all RAV4 models.
You can also lock and unlock the doors – a handy feature if someone without a key needs access, for example to drop off a parcel or to clean the car. The hazard lights can also be flashed, making the vehicle easier to spot in a big or busy car park. These features are newly standard on mid-grade models, together with remote operation of the climate control to warm up or cool the cabin before making a journey.
Vehicle status can be checked, including the fuel level and cruising range, health warnings and details of the latest vehicle health check.
Suspension
The RAV4 GR SPORT goes beyond styling and equipment features to deliver an enhanced driving experience with a more handling-tuned suspension.
The front and rear coil springs have been stiffened to put the focus on agility and responsiveness. Changes to the spring coefficient are matched by appropriate adjustment of the shock absorbers’ damping force. On the plug-in hybrid electric model, the spring rates have increased from 30 to 36 N/mm at the front and 49 to 55 N/mm at the rear; on the hybrid electric GR SPORT the respective increases are 28 to 30 and 40 to 46 N/mm.
The well-proven suspension set-up on the RAV4 uses front MacPherson struts with rear double wishbones – both with anti-roll bars.
Powertrains
Hybrid Electric
The hybrid electric RAV4 GR SPORT features Toyota’s well-proven fourth generation full hybrid technology, engineered with lighter and more compact components to help deliver sharper performance and higher efficiency. Full system output is 222 DIN hp/163 kW, enabling 0-100 km/h acceleration in 8.1 seconds.
The powertrain marked the introduction of a 2.5-litre Hybrid Dynamic Force four-cylinder petrol engine. Achieving world-class thermal efficiency, this Atkinson cycle unit delivers a strong balance of fuel economy and power. In the new RAV4 GR SPORT, WLTP combined cycle fuel consumption is 5.8 l/100 km with CO2 emissions of 132 g/km.
Plug-in Hybrid Electric
Toyota delivered the most powerful RAV4 yet with the introduction of a plug-in hybrid electric system that produces a maximum 306 DIN hp/225 kW. This level of power enables acceleration from rest to 100 km/h in 6.0 seconds; raw speed apart, the powertrain is engineered for driveability, with 50% more power available at 60 km/h. Even when driving in all-electric EV mode, performance is brisk, with acceleration comparable to a 2.0-litre petrol vehicle.
Its efficiency is maximised by the car running in EV mode by default, then switching to self-charging hybrid electric running when the charge in the lithium-ion battery is depleted. On a full charge, the RAV4 Plug-in Hybrid GR SPORT can cover up to 75 km (WLTP combined cycle) and reach speeds of up to 135 km/h.
Intelligent, Electric All-Wheel Drive
The RAV4 GR SPORT models are equipped as standard with an intelligent, electric all-wheel drive system – AWD-i. This returns better fuel economy in urban driving, quieter performance at high speeds and improved traction in slippery conditions. It is also more compact and lighter in weight than mechanical AWD systems, so fuel consumption and space inside the cabin and load compartment are not compromised.
AWD-i efficiently generates drive torque using power from the vehicle’s hybrid system and an additional electric motor on the rear axle. This format reduces energy losses, saves weight and optimises all-wheel drive performance in different driving conditions.
Toyota’s development of the technology delivers more torque to the rear wheels, to a maximum 1,300 Nm – matching or surpassing the typical torque achieved with a mechanical system and giving the RAV4 more sure-footed performance, for example when pulling away on loose, slippery surfaces. The front/rear drive torque split can vary from 100:0 to up to 20:80, according to the driving conditions. The ratio is automatically optimised to give improved handling, stability and off-road performance. In particular, the driver will notice more faithful line-tracing through bends in slippery conditions.
AWD Integrated Management
All-wheel drive performance is further improved with AWD Integrated Management (AIM), a unique feature in the RAV4’s class. This automatically adjusts different vehicle systems – steering assist, brake and throttle control, shift pattern and drive torque distribution – according to the drive mode selected, NORMAL, ECO or SPORT. In SPORT mode, AIM modifies the steering assist, throttle control shift schedule and drive torque distribution to gain better on-road performance.
“Escape” Capability with Trail Mode
First introduced with the current generation RAV4, the RAV4 GR SPORT with AWD-i has the added benefit of automatic limited-slip differential control – Trail Mode. This ensures the best possible grip and control on slippery surfaces. It can also provide valuable assistance when tackling challenging off-road conditions.
This counters the risk of the vehicle becoming stranded if a driven wheel loses contact with the ground on very uneven terrain. In this scenario, the driver can engage Trail Mode using a button on the centre console, braking the free rotating wheel and directing drive torque to the grounded wheel. Throttle control and the transmission shift pattern are also adapted to help the driver keep the vehicle moving.
Advanced Safety and Driver Assistance
The new GR SPORT benefits from the enhanced Toyota T-Mate package of safety and driver assistance features introduced across the model range for 2023. This includes additional functions that can warn the driver and help avoid a wider range of common road accident risks.
The Toyota Safety Sense’s Pre-Collision System (PCS) gains intersection support that can help with safer turns at junctions. Provided on both the hybrid electric and plug-in hybrid electric models, this will detect if the car is about to cross the path of any oncoming traffic, and if there are any pedestrians crossing the road into which the vehicle is moving, alerting the driver and, if necessary, initiating braking control to help avoid an impact.
Emergency Steering Assist (ESA) is also newly provided, helping the driver avoid a pedestrian who has stepped into the road, while keeping the car under control and within its traffic lane. On the plug-in model, ESA can additionally detect and respond to a cyclist or a stationary or preceding vehicle,. On the RAV4 Plug-in Hybrid, the system will also recognise and react to bicycles and parked vehicles. The RAV4 Plug-in Hybrid’s PCS also gains the ability to detect oncoming vehicles in the car’s traffic lane in daytime driving and reduce the risk of a head-to-head collision.

2024-212 / Zedd MAP: 81.35 / MLZ MAP: 86.53 / Score Gap: 5.18
Wikipedia / IMDb / Official Trailer / Our Collection
Ok - you caught us! It’s the simple truth of the matter, no wiggling out of it, what can a pair of movie cartographers do? Face the music, take it on the chin, don’t make it any worse, just accept the fate. Here we go…
From IMDb: A best-selling author of women's issues and a medical academic find it is to their mutual advantage to falsely claim that they are married.
Forces, some we have influence on, others we don’t, have had impact. Here at Casa de Zedd, our hall of plenty is our media room. In a typical 500 Movies series, I like to keep the line up varied, 80s mixed tape style: you might check in and find we watched an 70s drama, a tried and true screwball comedy from the 40s, a 90s-era neo-noir. Our media room is well stocked with motion pictures great and small - 1922 through 2024, over a hundred years of film history from around the world. My mixing game is strong. This year’s series has been… less so.
First and foremost, we returned with a different intent (our control) - making 500 Movies a fun, safe place on Reddit during a hard year (not in our control). A sane act of friendly care in a world filled with insane, dreadful headlines. ((Yikes)) Mrs. Lady Zedd also asked me about focusing more on new movies, well - more than we have previously.
I’m also doing my damndest to get the new Movie Collection Catalog up and run to full capacity. Inputting particulars, pulling the digital codes for processing, incoming new films… my plate is very full. The end result this year has been fewer older films, more new ones. A focus on film eras we feel the most comfortable watching (the most bang for our buck, emotionally), but also a bit easier for the two of us to write up. We’re 5 months in, ahead of schedule, but our movie make up is more straight line than 80s mixed tape:

• 1900-1920s: 0 movies
  
• 1930s: 3 movies
  
• 1940s: 2 movies
  
• 1950s: 6 movies
  
• 1960s: 20 movies
  
• 1970s: 35 movies
  
• 1980s: 50 movies
  
• 1990s: 25 movies
  
• 2000s: 23 movies
  
• 2010s: 16 movies
  
• 2020s: 31 movies
  

On the one hand, it’s good to see our goals manifested, on the other ((shrug)) I’m feeling we’re neglecting early to mid-20th century titles. Only 11 flicks from 1900 to 1959 this time around. Well, what can I say - someone dropped a comment on a write up on a 40s film written nearly two years ago this week and it got me thinking… we can do a little better than this.
So, here we are: Loretta Young and Ray Milland in a romantic/screwball(ish) comedy, very common cinema fare in 1940. Sharped-tongued lady, bumbling over-thinking guy, impossible situation turns to a love connection. Opposites attract because at the end of the day there’s a fine line between love and hate.
Ray Milland is a bit of a success story around here - I hadn’t a clue who he was 20 years ago but his drunken wink promotional picture was so recognizable on IMDb, he became an early “Them” candidate. He’s uptight but droll - you’ll enjoy his performances but I always think James Stewart could have done everything a bit better.
As my awareness of Milland grew, I started realizing he was a regular on TV and movies of dubious quality (??) in the 70s and early 80s. His appearance and voice had changed considerably over the years - I knew this older, gruff Ray Milland but the young, dapper Milland felt like a stranger. The more our collection grew, the better able I was to reconcile the two versions. He graduated from “Them” to leading man.
Mrs. Lady Zedd opines Loretta Young - an actress we haven’t any experience with - was rather attractive and well suited to this part. We’ve been aware of her but it was nice to see her in action. Sparks certainly flew as Young and Milland clash in every conceivable way and then fly again as they make the love connection - she said (and I agree), they had solid on-screen chemistry.
Funny thing about having a sizable collection, when you haven’t visited a genre or era in a while and then throw it in the machine, it’s like opening a window in Spring - a breath of fresh air. You simply can’t hope for those sorts of self-guided explorations if you’re depending on streaming services to play nice. Who knows what some programing algorithm will “decide” to make available… maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for, maybe you won’t. No thanks, I’ll just keep my discs and host myself. I always seem to have what I’m looking for ((wink-wink)). Consider doing the same.
Movie On.

DRAG RACE!
Chronologica struts the runway wearing a green ankle leather strapless dress, red pearls around her neck and a blue beehive wig.
Hello world!
Welcome to Drag Race.
Lupe, Mami, are you excited for the dance challenge?
“Darling, I LOVE to dance!” Lupe shakes her chest. “Woo!”
Chronologica laughs.
Floss, are you a dancer?
“God no, my category was FACE.” Floss smirks.
What about you, Rachelle?
“Damn yes. I was body, body, body…” Rachelle winks.
For our Challenge, our racers were tasked with performing their ass of as Vegas Showgays!
And on the runway, they’ll be wearing their Casino Royale Best!
It’s TIME!
~
Category is… Casino Royal!
Anne Dior Kashaut arrives wrapped in a suit jacket that reflects the pattern of a casino poker table, with a mini dress made out of poker chips. She wears a long, flowing blonde wig, and stomps the stage with a fire in her eyes.
“I love this take.” Lupe whispers to Rachelle.
Mrs. Vicki Anderson spins onto the main stage in a 1920s Flapper Look, wearing a headband and fringe mini dress. Dancing around the stage doing the foxtrot, Vicki kicks her feet around with a smile, excitedly moving.
Keep on dancing… poorly!
Rachelle chuckles.
Ethan Angel-Eye enters the stage wearing an Apache Beaded warrior look- with feather and fringe, as he slowly moves through the stage, his eyes transfixed on the judges. As he arrives at the end of the stage, he tears his outfit apart- revealing a boring business suit, as he stomps off the stage serving executive male.
Ethan Angel-Eye: “This is a look for my Native class traitors, men who sell their culture to become ‘The Man’. I hope you know that selling out your communities to the white men will never fulfill you like your culture does.”
Molly Moppit jumps onto the main stage in a Poker Attendant look, dressed in a suit jacket, white shirt and flared pants, she holds a bag full of poker chips that she counts as she walks through the stage. As she makes her way to the end, Molly drops her bag- picking it up as thousands of ‘MoDollars’ pour out of her pants.
“Where’s the chips…” Floss looks around suspiciously. “They’ve gone from her hand. GET HER!”
Carly Shay Jepsen arrives straight out of a James Bond film! Wearing a suit that is probably a few centimeters too small for her, Carly holds a martini glass in her hand, and pads down her massive, non-lace front wig with a smile.
Casino… Royale indeed.
Francesca La Fataliá struts out in a deep purple silk dress, her hair spun into black buns with multiple layers of gold littered throughout it. She wears a fur coat, carrying a bunch of faux ‘Euros’ as she counts her money, walking through the stage.
“She’s spending MONEY, honey.” Lupe smiles.
Twirling onto the stage, Lady Gag arrives serving her best ‘Poker Face’- with an exact recreation of Lady Gaga’s ‘Poker Face’ music video, with the glittering mask, a black jumpsuit and studded look as she stomps the main stage.
RedOne.
“Gaga…” Rachelle sighs.
Niagara Halls arrives in a gold lace dress, her hair serving bundle upon bundle of scarlet red hair, as she spins onto the main stage with an excited flair, touching her expensive dress with a smirk on her face, purring around.
“Category is GOLD.” Floss snaps her fingers.
Wearing a backless aubergine purple slink dress, with a diamond end to the gown, as Shayla Moon is giving her best ‘Vesper Lynd’ dress up, wearing a short black wig as she stalks through the stage, a pistol in her hand.
“This is so good!” Lupe snaps her fingers. “Perra.”
Nakomis Lotus arrives dressed an Egyptian Queen, serving Cleopatra realness with a beaded wig and a literally Pyramid- the Luxor as her dress, she floats around the main stage with a , walking like an Egyptian.
I wonder which hotel she’s at!
Lokii steps onto the runway in a boxy slot machine costume, with the slots showcasing a triple Seven! Lokii spins down the runway, revealing that “Slut Machine” has been written just above a small hole in the back of the machine.
“Cute.” Lupe smiles.
HerShe Kiss enters the stage in a massive white, red and black Elizabethan era ballgown, with bright red hair with her face painted white like she’s the literal Queen of Hearts, as she holds a card- a Queen of Hearts with the actual version of herself.
“OFF WITH RACHELLE’S HEAD!” Floss says in a british accent.
Rachelle gasps.
Shiseido Red is a vision, her look at first glance, entirely compiled gold coin- wearing a structure that is similar to a slot machine, with coins pooling out of her head, flowing down to the ‘bottom’ of the outfit. Suddenly, the handle moves down and Shiseido hits the ‘Jackpot’- with confetti bursting from her outfit.
She’s getting lucky tonight.
~
Hi Racers.
Before I’ve made some decisions….
Ethan, will you be using your immunity potion tonight?
“No.” Ethan stares at Chronologica.
Francesca, will you be using your immunity potion tonight?
“Not tonight, Chronologica.” Francesca nods.
Team Francesca La Fataliá.
You all…
Are safe.
The 4 nod.
You may untuck in the Bronze Lounge with Princess Papaya Cocktails.
“Bronze?!” Niagara gasps. “Just say losers!”
Chronologica laughs.
~
The 4 racers enter the Bronze Lounge.
Francesca La Fataliá: “To be safe isn’t concerning. I am satisfied with this. I felt confident enough- which is why I didn’t use the immunity potion.”
“Well, I kinda HATE this.” Niagara says, picking up her drink, before sitting down on the seats in a dramatic fashion, puffing her lips out.
“Girl.” Carly laughs. “What’s going on?”
Niagara bursts into tears.
Carly, Francesca and Nakomis all look deeply confused.
“I really just- I know I fucked up, and honestly, it’s just lame, and I really do want this. My titles- I don’t have many, if we’re being honest..” Niagara starts.
“Oh, this makes sense.” Nakomis nods, whispering under her breath.
“I was focused on me planning, executing and like, like, like DELIVERING, you know?” Niagara sighs. “And I wanted to lead, and I know I VOUCHED for it, like-” Niagara rolls her eyes, looking at Francesca. “Whatever.”
“I-” Francesca starts.
“I just want to prove myself.” Niagara says, more tears beginning to fall. “I’m not ugly and weird and maybe they want that after a pretty girl like Nymphe winning-”
Carly covers her mouth in an effort to stop herself from laughing.
Carly Shay Jepsen: “GIRL, she’s so fucking FUNNY!”
“But you know what? I don’t want to be ugly. I want to be pretty and I WANT this! I want it, you know?! AHH!” Niagara cries, sobbing into a pillow.
“Niagara, you need to stop with the crying.” Francesca rips the pillow away from her face. “You did a good job this week.”
“Wait, what?” Niagara says, confused as she wipes a tear with her long, blue nails.
“I do actually believe you worked hard, and led our team to a victory, of sorts. We all performed well- and your work ethic is something that surprised me. Clearly, you want this, and we can all see it. Well certainly, I do believe that.” Francesca says. “And I’m almost always right.”
Carly smiles. “Honestly, yeah, girl. You really helped out.”
“I actually do not believe myself to be a performer.” Nakomis says. “Not to reveal my weak spots!” Nakomis jokes. “But you made us come together, and put something solid.”
“I-” Niagara smiles. “Do you guys really think so?”
“Yes.” Francesca nods. “Don’t be annoying about this again.”
Niagara smiles, before transitioning into a smirk. “God, I'm such a STAR.”
The others laugh, as Francesca rolls her eyes lovingly.
~
You represent the tops and bottoms of the week. Starting with…
Team Ethan.
And our leader!
Ethan stands tall.
“Hello.” Ethan nods.
“I loved you.” Lupe smiles. “What a character you are!”
“I am not a character.” Ethan says gruffly. “I am me.”
“Well…” Lupe smiles awkwardly. “You performed really well. This look, darling, it had a nice message, a good idea, and I believe you worked well.”
“I do agree-” Rachelle starts. “However, you did get outshined by others, at times.”
Ethan nods.
“Why didn’t you pick the front and center role?”
“I believed i’d stand out regardless, and I had the capability to do so.” Ethan adds.
“In this case… you let others stand out- moreover, Ms Moon.” Rachelle says.
Ethan looks annoyed.
Ethan Angel-Eye: “I’ve made a misstep. I am not pleased.”
HOWEVER… you did lead a team to a really solid performance. I think you should be proud of that?
Ethan nods.
“Agreed. This is still you work to get here, regardless- and that’s worth celebrating.” Rachelle adds.
And on that topic… Shayla Moon!
“WOW.” Floss smiles. “Tell me, then- you got a big role, opening the performance. Did you ask for the role?”
“Yes I did.” Shayla grins. “For me, it’s important to see big girls like us, showing we can do… the same things Miss Gag can do.”
Lady Gag eyes Shayla.
“What do you mean by US big girls?” Floss says, a glint in her eye.
The two chuckle.
“Baby, I am so happy you said that. And you did that. Because damn, you fucking KILLED IT!” Floss beams.
Shayla looks proudly.
And this look. It’s a great reference point, doing LITERAL casino royale. You should be proud of yourself. And you look hot.
“I know.” Shayla says, winking.
HerShe.
“Hiya.” HerShe stands elegantly.
You look gorgeous this week.
“Thank you.” HerShe smiles.
I really enjoyed the look, but on the main stage, you were the weakest of your group. You struggled in the choreo space- I don’t think you were actually BAD. You were just in a strong, strong group where everyone performed and ultimately, you were the weakest link in your group.
“I get that.” HerShe nods. “I do-” HerShe stops herself. “Nevermind.”
Shayla, Lady Gag and Ethan all look at HerShe.
Please HerShe, go ahead.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate.” HerShe says, frowning.
“Say it.” Ethan growls.
“I do believe Ethan’s dictatorial attitude limited my abilities. I asked for adjustments- he didn’t support that. It hindered me.” HerShe says.
“Let me make this clear.” Ethan steps forward. “HerShe failed on the basis of her abilities. I believe I am- and my team are collectively in the top. She was the weakest link- but collectively, we worked well. I lead a team to victory.”
HerShe looks uncomfortable.
“Lady Gag. Did I lead you well?” Ethan turns.
“I mean, yes-”
“Yes.” Ethan says. “Shayla?”
“...Yes.” Shayla says.
“Good. Moving onto Lady Gag critiques.” Ethan says, cutting forward.
…Okay.
Shayla Moon: “...Oh dear.”
HerShe looks as if she wants to close into herself.
Lady Gag.
“Hot.” Lady Gag smiles.
“You are very pretty.” Lupe starts. “And-”
“Thanks.” Gag flicks her hair.
“I wish you did something different, for this runway, though?” Lupe says. “To me, there was a lot more you could do… than Lady Gaga.”
“She’s wording it nicely, I won’t.” Rachelle starts. “I want to see more than Gaga. In fact, I need it. Your performance was good, I won’t lie. But I keep only seeing Gaga. I need Gag.”
“Well, Lady Gaga is Lady Gag.”
“If your brand is only another person, you won’t get far here.” Rachelle says, annoyed. “Show more, or go home.”
Lady Gag purses her lips.
Lady Gag: “Ok, bitch.”
Moving onto team…
“Me.” Molly puts her hand up.
“Die by the sword…” Shiseido whispers, tindering her breath.
Well, it was a shame to see, Molly.
Molly nods.
You not only struggled, but you lead a really poor performance, to be quite transparent.
“100%.” Molly says, nodding again.
The lack of dance skill was on show, and for me, you tried to cover it up with comedy…
“I tried, so hard.” Molly laughs.
“It wasn’t enough..” Rachelle frowns. “You have a FUN presence- but sometimes we don’t need to be funny- and kooky, and play up a shtick. I feel like- I know you have potential. But I need you to push yourself- and I see someone also being real here.”
“For sure.” Molly says. “I’m frustrated, but I want to be here.”
“Keep the fire. You don’t always have to be funny though, boo.” Floss looks at Molly. “Sometimes you need to just… SERVE.” Floss snaps her fingers.
“Will do just for you mama.” Molly blows a kiss.
Anne.
“Hello, judges!” Anne smiles.
“First, wow- you’re gorgeous, baby!” Lupe cheers.
“Oh, Lupe- Eres una inspiración, una luz, un faro de arrastre. Gracias.” Anne says with a bright smile.
“Oh…” Lupe blushes. “Thank you. You did lovely.”
“The Spanish was off.” Shayla whispers to Lokii.
“It was charming- you were a clear highlight in the group, and yes- it is a more literal take on the runway, but wow, did you deliver it!” Lupe looks excited. “Your drag is exciting. Keep shining.”
“I plan to!” Anne grins with an excessive smile.
Shiseido.
Shiseido looks on with pride.
“First of all, this look-” Rachelle shakes her head. “Insane levels of artistry.”
“Thank you. Not everyone can say they can do this.” Shiseido purses her lips.
“You have showcased something insane. This look is next level.” Rachelle says, looking at the outfit. “However… your dance performance was beyond poor.”
Shiseido looks at Rachelle.
“We’re not all spring chickens, and that’s okay- I see experience in your drag, clearly with your looks. But you were not good at all this week. Really- the dance was on show, and it wasn’t good. You actually looked in your head.”
“Mhm.” Shiseido says, looking displeased.
“I wanted to see so much more. But what I got- it was not great.” Rachelle sighs. “And an older queen can deliver. You don't need to move wildly. But it’s about clean, effective movements. That’s what it is.”
“Okay.” Shiseido responds.
Molly Moppit: “Red is pissed, you can tell. She’s mean mugging these judges.”
Shiseido looks straight ahead.
Lokii.
“Hi.” Lokii waves.
You failed to stand out. And for others here, I’ll say that’s a bad thing.
“Mhm.” Lokii nods.
But in this group, you were lucky. Because you fumbled somehow into the role of 4th worst. Or second best.
“Okay!” Lokii chuckles.
“You are cute.” Floss notes. “But, babe- I want a bit more than that. I want to be like- “Damn, yes that is the LOKII brand.” Floss looks at Lokii. “I do not know that yet.”
“Thank you.” Lokii says.
Shayla Moon: “I see Lokii is quite similar to me. But there’s a lack of confidence- experience? That’s a shame, because I think she’s cool!”
Finally, Ms Vicki A.
Vicki curtseys.
“Now, you did fail to stand out, Vicki- and then you did.” Rachelle raises an eyebrow. “You almost tripped.”
“I did, ahh!” Vicki gulps.
“I noticed.” Rachelle says, shaking her head. “Thus far, I am wanting a bit more from you. You’re cute, but I want what makes you stand out. What makes you different, Vicki?”
“I’m here to make the people smile, perform and lead with my heart.” Vicki grins.
“Okay.” Rachelle nods, holding up her notes looking slightly displeased.
Thank you, racers. Whilst we deliberate, you may untuck backstage in the Fae Lounge. Sponsored by Princess Papaya Glitter Blueberry Drinks.
~
The racers enter the Fae Lounge.
“WELL!” Molly yells, walking into the werkroom.
Molly Moppit: “I know the score. I heard the critiques. This is the way it goes. I fumbled the ball, and now I need to prepare.”
“As much as I’d love the screentime, I’m not talking to any of you, I’m going to go prepare for the lip sync, byeeeeeeee!” Molly utters, walking over to the mirrors.
“Oh.” HerShe nods. “Okay.”
HerShe Kiss: “I actually admire Molly. As a leader, she owned her faults. And now, no bullshit- she’s learning her words.”
The top and bottom racers all sit down, bar Molly, no one uttering a further word.
“…So, how does everyone feel?” Vicki says, trying to cut the tension. “I don’t feel amazing!”
“I don’t feel good, obviously, Vicki.” Shisedo starts. “If you can’t read the damned room. I don’t think much of us are.”
“I actually feel great.” Shayla laughs, trying to cut the tension.
“Same.” Lady Gag smirks, turning to Anne. “You also ate girl.”
“I know.” Anne smiles. “I am predicting the win.”
Shayla makes a face.
Shayla Moon: “I am not someone who believes themselves to be mean, by nature. I don’t like mean. But really, is Anne, with her generic drag and middle of the road performance, really expecting the win?” Shayla looks into the camera. “Oh my, cut that out, I sounded like a BITCH!”
“You’d deserve it, girl. You’re hot.” Gag smile.s
“I know.” Anne nods. “And honestly, the-“
“Can you both shut the fuck up?” Ethan says, annoyed.
“Who pissed in his suit?” Gag asks.
HerShe puts her hand up. “Ethan, if you-“
“HerShe, this isn’t about you. Calm down.” Ethan responds, not giving HerShe a chance to speak.
Ethan Angel-Eye: “I am damn frustrated at myself. I let Shayla outshine me. And that is what I am annoyed about.”
“I just don’t like any of this.” Shiseido shrugs. “And Molly, our leader is there, instead of apologizing for something I believe she should be, leading this team to failure-“
Shayla Moon: “I don’t get it. Molly DID own up to it. She’s now there, learning her words. Why are you complaining, Shiseido? Why aren’t YOU earning up to your own behavior?”
“It’s just ridiculous. It’s-”
Suddenly, the safe Queens enter the werkroom, as Carly cheers, holding a tray of lasagna. “What’s crackin?! Who wants MEAT?”
“….What is going on.” Shiseido raises her hands in disbelief.
“Whatever.” Shiseido stomps off, walking without a word. “I need a cigarette.”
“Let her sulk, like a child.” Anne says, before turning to whisper in Gag’s ear. “Honestly, I think Niagara has a good work ethic. She sews. Perhaps she can help us out in future? Maybe we can be friends with her? Or…” Anne says sarcastically. “Frieeeends…”
“Niagara BABE! Come sit with us!” Lady Gag waves Niagara over, as Niagara looks surprised.
Francesca raises her eyebrow as Niagara excitedly walks over.
“Is no one going to go say something…?” Carly points to the exit.
“She’s an adult.” Ethan responds.
“I don’t think I’d be any use…” Vicki frowns.
“I also need a cigarette, I’m Italian-“ Francesca says, looking at the camera. “Can I order an espresso?”
“Bitch, I’d love a coffee!!” Molly yells from the other side of the room.
Suddenly, a pit crew member walks in with a plate of deliciously appetizing Princess Papaya Espresso-Caffeinated Cocktails to Francesca’s disgust.
The racers start dividing into little groups to chat. Lady Gag, Niagara and Anne chat near the drinks.
“So, Niagara, girl.” Lady Gag smiles. “Like, you did really well.”
“I thought you’d win, actually.” Anne nods. “You lead your team like a true queen...”
“Oh…” Niagara says, surprised. “Gag, girl- like thank you, I didn’t expect this from you after week one, bitch. So to see the compliments from you-“
‘It’s SO deserved.” Anne smiles.
“I heard you sewed your own look this week too?” Lady Gag asks inquisitively.
“I did.” Niagara nods. “I do ALL my own looks, actually.” Niagara stops herself. “I thought I said that week one on stage?”
“I must’ve not been listening.” Lady Gag smiles. “But like, I’d love some tips. Maybe you could help us out?”
“You’re one of the girls.” Anne nods. “Like, one of us- the pretty dolls.”
Niagara Halls gasps. “I didn’t realize you were trans!”
“…Oh, I’m not.” Anne says.
Niagara nods in confusion.
“We can make the A.E. Girls look like weak losers if we band together.” Anne smirks. “I think.”
“…Oh, 100%.” Lady Gag leans into her seat with a smirk.
“…Werk.” Niagara nods.
Niagara Halls: “I want this WIN. And now, the opportunity to have allies? Of COURSE I’ll take it.”
…
“Please, dig into the Lasagna. I baked it myself.” Carly says to HerShe and Vicki, as Nakomis laughs.
“You can bake lasagna?” Nakomis utters under her breath in confusion.
“Oh, I can’t.” HerShe says with apprehension. “Too many carbs…”
“Fuck those carbs.” Carly laughs.
HerShe shakes her head.
“Now, HerShe- I must ask, are you okay?” Vicki frowns. “I know Ethan went quite tough on you..”
“Wait, what happened?” Carly asks, looking at the others.
“Did I miss a drag race herstory moment?” Nakomis frowns. “Nooooo!”
“It was just- I was trying to be open, and honest on the main stage. Ethan attacked me, verbally. At least it felt that way.” HerShe sighs. “But, I’ve heard worse. I must go forward. I must move forward.”
The others nod.
“What about you, Vicki?” HerShe asks. “I know the critiques were rough…”
“I love my drag.” Vicki smiles. “I love what I do. I love this art form. And if we struggle, that’s okay! I am still proud of myself.”
“That’s so sweet.” Nakomis looks at Vicki.
“Leading with light, always.” Vicki nods.
“I honestly do think, they’re not missing a chance for that Shisedo versus Molly Beef. You can cut that tension with a butter knife. You’ll be fine, girl.” HerShe says.
“I hope so.” Vicki nods.
HerShe Kiss: “Vicki feels like one of the REAL lights here. She’s just sweet. I want so much for her. She’s like… the one source of LIGHT here. She deserves the best.”
…
“You okay?” Shayla walks over to Molly, her hand on her shoulder.
“I’m okay.” Molly nods, before letting in a deep sigh. “I really do take this seriously.”
“I didn’t say youdon’t.” Shayla says.
“Like, sometimes, I get it, I’m fun- but this is my livelihood. I want this.” Molly looks at Shayla. “I need this, really.”
“You’ve got the words- give your all.” Shayla smiles. “That is all you can do.”
Molly Moppit: “I can feel myself being judged by some of these more “serious” entertainers, whatever that means, but I can’t let them dim my light. Never have, never will. I feel a fire to prove them bucktoothed clowns wrong- and even prove the judges when it comes to my performance skills! The Molly Moppit way, duh!”
…
Shiseido lights a cigarette, as Francesca walks outside.
“I’m not in the mood.” Shiseido says, not looking at her.
“I’m not here for you, I’m here for me.” Francesca lights her own cigarette.
…
…
…
The two inhale and exhale without uttering another word.
…
…
…
“Screw this.” Shiseido throws her cigarette.
“You’re scared.” Francesca finishes her cigarette.
“Damn right, I’m scared.” Shiseido snaps. “I’m double the age most of these bitches are-”
“Not an excuse.” Francesca responds. “As am I. I ate HerShe alive last week.”
“I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t know.” Shiseido responds, taking out another cigarette.
“Fags.” Francesca looks ahead.
“What?!” Shiseido turns to Francesca.
“Can I have one of your fags, idiot.” Francesca responds, her face giving a cheeky grin..
Shiseido rolls her eyes, before giving a half smirk, handing Francesca.
Shiseido Red: “She isn’t even british… what the fuck?”
“I don’t even know the words this week.” Shiseido says. “At all.”
“Well, how about you-”
“MAIN STAGE, RACERS!” A producer yells.
Francesca looks at Shiseido. “....Oh dear.”
Shiseido sighs sadly. “Time to face my fate.”
~
Welcome back, racers, I’ve made some decisions.
Shayla!
Shayla smiles.
This week, you danced your ass off, and Vegas is yours for the taking.
Condragulations, you are the winner of this week’s challenge.
“Ahhh!” Shayla cheers, as does most of the others.
Shayla Moon: “My first win! I promise this- it’s not my last.” Shayla winks.
Ethan readjusts himself, clearly bothered.
“Girl, I’m gagged it wasn’t you…” Anne whispers, leaning over to Lady Gag who nods.
Team Ethan, well done, you are safe.
Lady Gag: “I am fierce, mama. I am proud of myself, and that is what matters.”
…
…
Lokii.
Anne.
You are safe.
Lokii sighs in relief.
Lokii: “That was not a fun feeling.” Lokii exhales. “Okay, I’ve survived..”
Vicki, this week, you failed to stand out. Until you did, for the wrong reasons.
Molly, this week, you lead a team… to failure.
I’m sorry my dear, you are up for elimination.
Molly nods.
Shiseido, we want a LOT more than visuals. And this week, you bombed, HARD.
…
…
…
…
…
You are SAFE.
Everyone gasps, looking surprised, including Shiseido herself.
“Thank you judges.” Shiseido hurries off.
That means Mrs Vicki Anderson and Molly Moppit, I’m sorry my dears, but you are up for elimination.
The time has come… for you to lip sync to your life!
**I Should Be So Lucky by Kylie Minogue starts to play**
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3\_TvpBwSZDM
Good luck… and don’t fuck it up!
Molly Moppit: “Well, I didn’t expect to be here so quick! But, I’m a fighter, and a hustler. I’m not going down. I’m sorry Vicki, but I’m taking this lip sync win.”
Mrs. Vicki Anderson: “I am not a dancer, but I’m an entertainer at heart and I will be giving my best. A smile on my face, a groove in my heart- let’s tango!”
~
Next Time!
Racers, this week, you’ll be designing your own Dungeons and Drag characters- and a fierce main stage look!
“Niaaaagarraaa…” Lady Gag smiles. “Can you help?”
“I’m not helping you, Carly.” Francesca looks at an upset Carly with a stern glaze.
“AHHHHHH!” Carly yells. “I’ve stabbed myself!”
So, HerShe, can you make your own looks?
HerShe begins to sweat.
~
Stats
Voting
Spreadsheet

my proms coming up soon and most dress shoes dont really fit my feet. i looked at some trainers(sneakers) and was wondering if 9060s would go with the pinstripe suit im wearing. suggestions on some other shoes would be really appreciated( no canvases tho)