Ways to write g

Throw back to 2020. My husband at the time 22M and I 21F had just gotten engaged, graduated college, and began searching for houses. At the time, we were living with my parents. A little back story, back in college 2017 we had just bought a dog and were living in an apartment when we found it had mold. I was sick from it. My parents told me that my dog would die from it if we didn't leave and insisted we move in with them and commute 30 minutes to college. To which I agreed. I am their only child btw. I had a rough upbringing. I thought I was just rebellious but am realizing now they are control freaks. My dad told me when I was 16 that he put a gun to his head outside and almost pulled the trigger and it would have been my fault. My mom called me fat multiple times, forced me into pageants i didn't want to do. she saw my bf kissing me once and wouldn't talk to me for 3 months, couldn't even be in the same room as me or look at me without crying. Oh and she kept saying it's just my first wedding every chance she got. They both told me that being a labor and delivery RN is gay and that I would be a terrible nurse, but I have proved them wrong. There is much more in between all of this but here's some.
My husband and I were searching for houses, we were going to buy one when we told my parents we'd be moving out. They begged us to stay, said we could transform the garage into a living space and they would move out there. They said they would sign the house over to us. My husband was fond of the idea since he didn't want to live in a neighborhood and my parents have 10 acres. I was not fond of it, but knew we would save money in the long run. So we got a contractor and cashed out my husbands inheritance from his deceased father (he died when my husband was 18). I used all of my savings to help pay. It amounted to about 100k after everything.
As soon as we paid, my parents demeanor changed. They became rude and insensitive, saying all sorts of horrendous things. They began heavy drinking mid 2020 because my Grandma died and their life was over. Come to find out, they wouldn't have been able to afford living here if we hadn't taken over. My dad has health problems, but my mom has been perfectly healthy just refuses to work and has had excuses why she hasn't worked for years.
The drinking got worse, my dad called me a bitch for not wanting to pay $7k for painters. I told them we would paint it ourselves. It wasn't good enough for them. They have caused fights about us throwing out a paint can, screaming "one hundred dollars isn't a lot to you but it is to us" and proceeded to say they "don't know how its going to work here" and that they might just take us off everything.
Flash forward to today I'm currently pregnant with our first two children, we are here and they haven't signed the house over. They claim they are trying to merge the property from my Grandma to their house then they will sign it over. We put an additional 50k into much needed upkeep that they fell short on for 30 years. Everyone of my dad's sisters hates him because they feel they were treated unfairly when his mother died. All of my mom's siblings hate her because she convinced my grandma to write her brother out of the property inheritance so he only got his father's side of it. So everyone in the family hates them, but they still sit there and act like saints because they helped take care of both of my grandma's in their end of life.
We have had many fights over the dumbest shit. I could go into so many details but we would run out of space. They have made claims that we're taking advantage of them, how they've sacrificed so much and we haven't done anything for them. They blew their top over a paint can saying "100 dollars isn't much to you but it is to us!" They have threatened to not add us on the house and have said multiple times this isn't going to work. Even better my dad and mom refused to stop smoking and drinking around my babies because "it doesn't affect them". I used to visit every day before I got pregnant and was super sick. But now I visit once a week. But that seems to not be good enough.
It was my baby shower today. Keep in mind, my mom didn't throw me a bridal shower and claimed she was too busy with the renovation even though my husband and I were handling everything. She didn't offer to throw me a baby shower either. My husbands Grandma and my friend did.
Last night I texted my Mom saying that we would be leaving at 9. I figured we would be riding together since we live together and she is going to be a Grandma. Well, my mom ignored me and had my father text me. He told me that she won't be riding with me and she will be riding with a cousin. I told him I think that looks poor given she is the Grandma and shouldn't be arriving with other guests. He texted me saying my husband told him that we can't give my mom a ride. I know this is not true.
What happened was that my husband took the dogs out and at the time had a lot on his mind from work. My dad said my Mom will need a ride to the shower. My Mom insisted she didn't and would drive herself (their car is old and breaking which they have also insinuated that we should be buying them a car). My husband said that either way works and just let us know. Continuing, my father told me that he doesn't want to leave anything to us because of this. And I left it at that.
In the morning, my Mom texted saying she wants to ride with us which we agreed. She never apologized for the behavior or anything, just pretended like nothing was wrong.
My shower was less than ok. My entire family breezed past me, barely asked about my pregnancy or the babies and talked to my Mom. I sat in the corner with my friend and husbands Grandma while my Mom entertained all of them. She excluded my husbands Grandma from the main dining table and spent an hour talking about how hard her life is with my Dad and his health problems. "Nobody knows what I go through" she says.
The shower basically felt like a show for her. My cousin said "I heard you and (my Dad) built a tiny house. That must have been expensive." My mom says "yeah we did!" I walked over and said that MY husband and I paid for it. it was asked why my husband and I aren't living in a one bedroom house or if we will build a new one. I told them it wasn't our idea and we spent our entire savings on it so we have no money left to build a house.
My mom didn't sit by me or take one picture with me prior to this or after.
After the shower, everyone left and I said to my mom that I wasn't aware everyone was under the impression that they paid for everything. She screamed to of her lungs "YOU can't KEEP DOING THIS TO ME!" My husbands Grandpa definitely heard. So do you think she's in the right and has scarified more than I have?
I am getting tired of the threats and becoming more concerned that they will try to evict us even though we pay the gas, electric, wifi, and television bills. With these babies coming soon, I don't know what to do. It would bankrupt us leaving without our money back and buying a new house. Am I ungrateful and in the wrong?

Throw back to 2020. My husband at the time 22M and I 21F had just gotten engaged, graduated college, and began searching for houses. At the time, we were living with my parents. A little back story, back in college 2017 we had just bought a dog and were living in an apartment when we found it had mold. I was sick from it. My parents told me that my dog would die from it if we didn't leave and insisted we move in with them and commute 30 minutes to college. To which I agreed. I am their only child btw. I had a rough upbringing. I thought I was just rebellious but am realizing now they are control freaks. My dad told me when I was 16 that he put a gun to his head outside and almost pulled the trigger and it would have been my fault. My mom called me fat multiple times, forced me into pageants i didn't want to do. she saw my bf kissing me once and wouldn't talk to me for 3 months, couldn't even be in the same room as me or look at me without crying. Oh and she kept saying it's just my first wedding every chance she got. They both told me that being a labor and delivery RN is gay and that I would be a terrible nurse, but I have proved them wrong. There is much more in between all of this but here's some.
My husband and I were searching for houses, we were going to buy one when we told my parents we'd be moving out. They begged us to stay, said we could transform the garage into a living space and they would move out there. They said they would sign the house over to us. My husband was fond of the idea since he didn't want to live in a neighborhood and my parents have 10 acres. I was not fond of it, but knew we would save money in the long run. So we got a contractor and cashed out my husbands inheritance from his deceased father (he died when my husband was 18). I used all of my savings to help pay. It amounted to about 100k after everything.
As soon as we paid, my parents demeanor changed. They became rude and insensitive, saying all sorts of horrendous things. They began heavy drinking mid 2020 because my Grandma died and their life was over. Come to find out, they wouldn't have been able to afford living here if we hadn't taken over. My dad has health problems, but my mom has been perfectly healthy just refuses to work and has had excuses why she hasn't worked for years.
The drinking got worse, my dad called me a bitch for not wanting to pay $7k for painters. I told them we would paint it ourselves. It wasn't good enough for them. They have caused fights about us throwing out a paint can, screaming "one hundred dollars isn't a lot to you but it is to us" and proceeded to say they "don't know how its going to work here" and that they might just take us off everything.
Flash forward to today I'm currently pregnant with our first two children, we are here and they haven't signed the house over. They claim they are trying to merge the property from my Grandma to their house then they will sign it over. We put an additional 50k into much needed upkeep that they fell short on for 30 years. Everyone of my dad's sisters hates him because they feel they were treated unfairly when his mother died. All of my mom's siblings hate her because she convinced my grandma to write her brother out of the property inheritance so he only got his father's side of it. So everyone in the family hates them, but they still sit there and act like saints because they helped take care of both of my grandma's in their end of life.
We have had many fights over the dumbest shit. I could go into so many details but we would run out of space. They have made claims that we're taking advantage of them, how they've sacrificed so much and we haven't done anything for them. They blew their top over a paint can saying "100 dollars isn't much to you but it is to us!" They have threatened to not add us on the house and have said multiple times this isn't going to work. Even better my dad and mom refused to stop smoking and drinking around my babies because "it doesn't affect them". I used to visit every day before I got pregnant and was super sick. But now I visit once a week. But that seems to not be good enough.
It was my baby shower today. Keep in mind, my mom didn't throw me a bridal shower and claimed she was too busy with the renovation even though my husband and I were handling everything. She didn't offer to throw me a baby shower either. My husbands Grandma and my friend did.
Last night I texted my Mom saying that we would be leaving at 9. I figured we would be riding together since we live together and she is going to be a Grandma. Well, my mom ignored me and had my father text me. He told me that she won't be riding with me and she will be riding with a cousin. I told him I think that looks poor given she is the Grandma and shouldn't be arriving with other guests. He texted me saying my husband told him that we can't give my mom a ride. I know this is not true.
What happened was that my husband took the dogs out and at the time had a lot on his mind from work. My dad said my Mom will need a ride to the shower. My Mom insisted she didn't and would drive herself (their car is old and breaking which they have also insinuated that we should be buying them a car). My husband said that either way works and just let us know. Continuing, my father told me that he doesn't want to leave anything to us because of this. And I left it at that.
In the morning, my Mom texted saying she wants to ride with us which we agreed. She never apologized for the behavior or anything, just pretended like nothing was wrong.
My shower was less than ok. My entire family breezed past me, barely asked about my pregnancy or the babies and talked to my Mom. I sat in the corner with my friend and husbands Grandma while my Mom entertained all of them. She excluded my husbands Grandma from the main dining table and spent an hour talking about how hard her life is with my Dad and his health problems. "Nobody knows what I go through" she says.
The shower basically felt like a show for her. My cousin said "I heard you and (my Dad) built a tiny house. That must have been expensive." My mom says "yeah we did!" I walked over and said that MY husband and I paid for it. it was asked why my husband and I aren't living in a one bedroom house or if we will build a new one. I told them it wasn't our idea and we spent our entire savings on it so we have no money left to build a house.
My mom didn't sit by me or take one picture with me prior to this or after.
After the shower, everyone left and I said to my mom that I wasn't aware everyone was under the impression that they paid for everything. She screamed to of her lungs "YOU can't KEEP DOING THIS TO ME!" My husbands Grandpa definitely heard. So do you think she's in the right and has scarified more than I have?
I am getting tired of the threats and becoming more concerned that they will try to evict us even though we pay the gas, electric, wifi, and television bills. With these babies coming soon, I don't know what to do. It would bankrupt us leaving without our money back and buying a new house. Do I have a case?

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Content Warning: Domestic Abuse
***
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality*. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.*
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully*, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"*
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

I'm lost in a spiral of what the hell do I do now??
I'm an avid writer, and much of my writing has developed over the years, but my current position is that I have around 8 different stories that are in varying degrees of readiness to release into the world... And not a single clue in the world what I'm meant to do with them. Some even have sequels.
I have several issues really, but...
Primarily, I absolutely do not feel like I want to publish under my own name... while I doubt I'll ever reach the likes of John Green or Dan Brown, I don't want to risk any of me being associated with them. I feel the urge to release, but I don't want to risk any sort of renown. Like 0.
Secondly, as I write as a hobby, I work a full time job, as well as raising a family, meaning I do not have the funds to put behind self publishing - like getting an editor. I have a very good friend who owns their own publishing company, but it is very small and mostly poetry. I write mostly fantasy fiction.
As a reader, I've come across several options regarding publishing... but I've got a whole heap of confusion...
Traditional Publishing - but that's tricky and lets be honest, the chances are rare.
Self Publishing (Amazon) - I'm really open to this as an idea, but I'd want to get my stuff properly edited properly first, and well, this is where the financial concerns step in. Plus then there's still advertising, formatting... There will be an incredibly steep learning curve...
Writing Apps - I've been writing some bits based on the stuff I've been reading. Its trashy, sexually driven, but also it's fun, and I enjoy writing it and reading it back, as much (usually more) than the stuff I've been reading on the apps which is often poorly written and formatted. But I do know about the questionable contracts. But also, its potentially some upfront earnings for me to begin funding the self publishing for my other works.
Website creation - this is an idea that's occurred to me recently, why not just create my own website and post it, I could use advertising to help fund it, but I'm fully aware of the risks of this... I open myself of various issues. And I'm not sure I have the constitution to deal with those.
I just don't quite know what to do... I know I would like do something with my works, and ideally earn something from them, because, well, I put some serious work into them... But the what do I do? I'm reading so much information online Writers Beware, Writers and Artists... But I'm still so conflicted and unsure of the best way forward...
Has anyone else got any ideas which I've not considered? Or attempted any of the above and have some advice?

Let us pretend we’ve a grip on the notions of a possible world, of an instant in time — or just a time —, and of the way a world is at a time. Let us say that two worlds w and v are momentarily indiscernible iff for some times t and t’, w is at t the exact same way v is at t’. Note that t and t’ need not be the same, e.g. if times turn out to be parts of mereologically disjoint Lewisian worlds. Momentary indiscernibility is reflexive, symmetric, and intransitive.
Strong determinism is the proposition that no non-actual world is momentarily indiscernible from the actual world. Strong determinism entails classical determinism because classical determinism says no non-actual world is momentarily indiscernible and governed by the same set of physical laws as the actual world. We don’t need to know (or pretend to know) what it means for a world to be governed by a set of laws to know classical determinism follows from strong determinism.
Further pretend we know what an individual is, what a proposition is (and what it is for a proposition to be true in a world), and what it is for an individual to believe a proposition in a time. Then weak theism is the proposition that in the actual world, at all times, some individual or other necessarily believes exactly the true propositions. Weak theism follows from the doctrine called classical theism, or whatever doctrine bears the name “classical theism”. This is because any such doctrine has to entail that some individual necessarily believes, at all times, exactly the true propositions, i.e. it entails weak theism with the existential quantifier switched places with the universal quantifier.
Now I’m going to show weak theism entails strong determinism. Suppose weak theism is true. Then at all times some individual believes exactly the (actually) true propositions. Suppose for reductio strong determinism is false, so that some non-actual world w is momentarily indiscernible from the actual world. Then there are times t and t’ such that the way the actual world is at t is the way w is at t’. Now from the foregoing it follows some individual x necessarily believes all and only true propositions at t. Since w is exactly the way this world is at t at t’, it follows some individual y necessarily believes at t’ in w the exact same propositions as x believes at t in our world, and also believes in all and only the truths of w. But from this it follows that the exact same propositions are true in w and in the actual world, and that therefore w is the actual world, and so not non-actual. Contradiction.
So weak theism entails strong determinism. But weak theism follows from classical theism and strong determinism entails classical determinism. Therefore, classical theism entails classical determinism.

I just turned 18, living in my own for the first time. I'm failing out of my school, it's due to lack of ability but I'm also just unmotivated. Everybody back home is expecting so much from me and I don't think I will ever be able to live up to their expectations. I feel like a disappointment and I just can't live with that. I'm miserable here, I can't just leave because it's military related.
I feel like a terrible fucking person. I regret a lot of the stupid things I've done. I just wish things could go back to the way they used to be.
I don't want to kill myself because it will break my parent's hearts, I'm their oldest child. Everybody will be so devastated and I don't want to cause them that much pain. But I'll just disappoint them all anyway.
I don't feel like I have any real friends. Nobody has tried to stay in contact with me since I left. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm trying to write a suicide letter but can't stop crying thinking about my family and my dog and everyone else who used to be there.
I don't want to die but I don't feel like I have a choice.
I don't feel like anyone can or wants the help me. If I go to a doctor my career is effectively over and I don't want that either.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

I’m 2 days off nicotine now (about 50 hours to be exactish) and I’m actually feeling really good. I realized pretty much this morning the reason I haven’t had many withdrawal symptoms is because of my medication. I’m on bupropion/wellbutrin anti depressant right now and it’s also used as a smoking cessation aid. That is part of the reason my psychiatrist put me on it, but I didn’t really notice the effects until I actually stopped vaping. And now I feel pretty great!
I had some moderate to extreme anxiety about quitting because I’ve done it quite a few times now, and I experienced bad withdrawal symptoms each time. Luckily I’ve felt little to no symptoms this time around which is kind of crazy. It makes me a little nervous because I’m only on day 2 and I don’t know how the rest of the week or month with feel. Hopefully the medication is enough to get me through this whole thing without major withdrawals. I have work tomorrow and Tuesday and it’s kinda freaking me out! I really really really don’t want to come off as grouchy, foggy, irritable or anything at my job because I’m still in training and it’s very customer service based. I have to be on my best behavior so it’s making me nervous but I’m hoping the medication will be enough to help me for the next few days.
I’m still kinda craving vape a bit but not nearly enough to go use it. I have plenty of self control right now.
I haven’t noticed too many triggers but a few. Before bed and waking up, and eating. Eating is a big thing for me. I talked about in another post how vaping essentially gave me an eating disorder. I don’t want to claim anorexia but…. It’s just kinda crazy because all the research I’ve done is like “how to not overeat when you quit” or you may feel hungrier. And it’s like please I need to be hungrier. I have to teach myself to eat 3 full meals again. I need to teach myself to finish my plate in one sitting. I can’t stop half way and feel full enough to go use a vape. Again, I’m not having awful cravings so it’s not a crazy issue, but I really just need to get used to it. If any of that makes sense.
Don’t know if anyone will read this but it makes me feel better to write it out! I HIGHLY recommend seeking out medication if you’re struggling. It helps x1000000, much much more than you might think. And I’m really trying to be nice to my body and mind and hopefully get in shape again. Here’s to 2 days and counting!! If you’ve read all this reassure me I will be fine at work 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🫶

So a long time ago I saw this post on rWritingPrompt about a world where people had unique mundane gifts which could be used in esoteric ways.
The main example of such gifts was the protagonist on the comments that had the mundane gift of always finding his keys but he was able to use this gift of his to track down a criminal by placing a key into one of his pockets.
This made me really interested and I started thinking of creating similar powers in my magic system journal and after rereading it today, I wanted to share some:
1) Always having the perfect comeback for an insult.
2) Being able to brew a good hot cup of coffee very quickly.
3) Always able to guess a person's exact age.
4) Always having exactly $3.47 in your pocket.
5) Never being able to accidentally stain a shirt.
6) Always having a good first impression on others when meeting
7) Being innately adept at playing basketball.
These are just a few, what are some unique mundane gifts you can think which you can use in creative ways.

I honestly feel like the AoT fandom has died lately, where are all the fans at? Seriously lol I haven’t heard anyone mention it in forever. But I’m still here! I’d love to do an AoT roleplay with somebody. The story is beautiful, even if it is quite gruesome and sad. There are still aspects that still shine out, one of the main reasons as to why it’ll always hold the place of favorite anime in my heart.
To start things off, a small introduction on my part. You can call me Hina or Hinata and I’m from Japan. I’m currently in the GMT+1 timezone temporarily for vacation but I usually am in the PST timezone. I’m mentioning this because sometimes time zones can matter or change the roleplay/roleplay friendships. I don’t mind what timezone you’re in, honestly, as long as we can talk things out without a longggg pause. I have been writing since I was 9 when I joined a writing campaign and a story competition held by my school which sparked the writeroleplayer in me and I am currently 22 years old. To finish my introduction off, I am someone who listens to goth music/vkei (i LOVE plastic tree. i’m so happy to see they got some of their popularity back on tiktok), I like to play and watch basketball, I watch anime and I am currently rewatching bluelock as a refresher, and.. I also play many video games.
Now onto things I’m looking for roleplay-wise. I mentioned something about Attack on Titan but I didn’t talk about anything really specific. That’s the thing. I don’t mind what story we do. It could be something modern AU with the original characters, another story of Mikasa and Eren, maybe even an OC with one of the characters in a more modern setting. It could also be something done in the original timeline. Going through the events of becoming a scout and the rumbling as two other oc’s or one OC and one original character. I’m honestly down for anything! Just hit me with it.
CHARACTERS
I tend to use character sheets to describe my character, these usually consist of names, background, and personality. More so on appearances, I prefer using animated or drawn references than real life people. I enjoy good enough references where I get the idea of how the character would look like.
The types of characters I write are either the lone wolf type that has some sad past which leads them to want to join someone for a redemption arc or the bubbly character who is the one that brings the mood up and is usually seen as trustworthy and of that kind.
I like all types of tropes, especially enemies to lovers or rivalry. I also really enjoy opposites attract as a whole from either opposite personality or something else they would be opposites in. Enemies to lovers takes my heart, though. I love seeing the characters go past the urge to ultimately hate each other and/or go past their usual way of disliking the others lineage or upcoming.
REQUIREMENT
I think this is my last paragraph on the roleplay. It’s the most important, at least. Requirements. All roleplay searches come with them. Or at least that’s what I heard! But don’t fret, there isn’t much.
I’ve seen this as one of the most used requirements, and I agree with it. As someone who’s first language wasn’t English, I understand that you may not be great at it. But please, I do require a partner that at least has proper use of grammar and punctuation. You don’t even have to use big words or anything, just at least know where to put your periods and the placement of your words.
My second requirement is for you to be LITERATE! Please. I’m a big writer, I tend to ramble on and tend to write more than what I thought I would. (like i’m doing right now) I write multiple paragraphs from the starter until the scene relaxes. I also understand that sometimes writing big blocks of words every response is tiring or boring so I don’t expect it all the time, at least after the starter has been made and in more important scenes. Dialogue also cuts my replies shorter.
Please please please be polite in OOC! We may just be role playing together but kindness goes all ways. If we do include OOC, I enjoy talking about many things. My day, movies, games, funny moments and stories, all of that!
I think that’s the end to this wonderful journey of an ad about my search. I hope you are still here, fellow writer! I would LOVE it if you reached out to me! This wasn’t all for nothing, right!
But don’t leave yet! I do have a passcode. I know this was a jumble of words and rambling but I still have to put one in. I heard that there’s a lot of people on here that don’t read things fully and miss out on rules or information! But.. Just because you read through this all, I’ll gladly give you options on the passcode! Also please put in an introduction of yourself! Don’t think “Oh maybe I shouldn’t bother this person with too much to read”! I like seeing big blocks.
PASSCODE:
What’s your dream country to travel to and why?
OR
Who’s your favorite TV show / Cartoon / Game / Anime character?
Feel free to pick both! Now, that’s all from me. Please don’t put your request as just “Wanna rp”!

• H 💕

Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this query letter and providing feedback!
Dear [Agent],
I am writing to seek representation for my 105,000-word speculative upmarket novel, GODS OF DIVERSION. In the social commentary driven vein of SEVERANCE by Ling Ma and NATURAL BEAUTY by Ling Ling Huang, GODS OF DIVERSION explores the detriments of limitless entertainment, how omniscience leads to overconsumption, and the ways even the most devoted artist can become trapped in the body of a god.
In the beginning, a human named Ezra falls off a cliff during a blizzard and finds himself dying. He encounters the young god Wanda, a prodigy in the creation of stars and planets, who promises him immortality in exchange for his unwavering worship. Ezra agrees, and he is reborn.
Centuries later, Wanda and Ezra reside in a celestial city among other cosmopolitan gods. Ezra flourishes as a high-profile god of death, while Wanda holds the position of a minor god of clementines. During their leisure time, they are inseparable, frequenting endless happy hours, pachinko joints, and parties in high-rise apartments. Ezra, always seeking his next thrill, opens a venue called the Star Museum and persistently urges Wanda to create a star for a new exhibit. However, Wanda fears she has lost her creative touch, haunted by memories of her past inappropriate relationship with a withholding mentor.
Enter Beau B. Huang, a newly-turned god struggling with divinity after a previous life impersonating a famous pop star. Upon spotting a photo of an ex-lover at Ezra’s museum, Beau is driven to commit burglary. Afterwards, Wanda, an unlikely ally, discovers the truth: Ezra has been Beau’s secret benefactor, using Beau’s musicality to avoid the monotony of godhood's infinite scroll. As Ezra pursues them relentlessly, and Wanda realizes she’s not the only one being worshiped, what ensues is a journey out of the city and into the wilderness. There, Wanda must confront her artistic traumas and need for adoration, or risk falling under Ezra’s influence–and losing her creative agency–forever.
I have previously published work in [previous credentials]. I hold an MFA in Creative Writing at [school], where I was mentored by [so-and-so]. I also served as a [fiction fellow] at [place].
This book was conceived during my time teaching fiction at [place], where I encountered many writers who felt too distracted to start a proper creative practice. My personal philosophy has always encouraged creation, no matter the form, and this novel is a reflection of that.
Thank you so much for your time and consideration!

The most complex and thorough villains of all time, whether it be in fiction or history, all have very similar traits. Masterminds, manipulators, confidence, stark lack of empathy. I myself express one of these expressions of traits: Machiavellianism.
So far, within my brief time here, reddit has done so much for me to pursue my own goals as a writer, so I wish to give back in the only way I think you might find helpful. Please comment to explore my mindset. Give me scenarios and ask how I would approach them. Ask for my thought process, and what verbal response comes from it. Or, role-play with me.
Please do not think that this is the end-all-be-all of this mindset. Of course, there will be variations on the different personalities within these traits. I'm not telling you how to write something. I only wish that my mindset could provide some useful information for your own continued writing journey. What you get from it and what you use from it is entirely up to you.
I hope I can keep this engaging just how it will be for me.

All names have been changed
I (F34) love my job for the most part. I work at a mid-sized company with several offices across the US. My office is somewhat small, with around 30 employees. We all get along well and are a pretty tight-knit group for the most part. Our office is pretty laid-back and social. I have worked there for about 7 years.
For some time, myself and some others at the office have suspected that two of my coworkers, Ted (M42) and Amy (F46), are having an affair. Both are married and have been for more than 20 years. They have both worked here for 10-15 years and are well-liked by everyone. Amy is extremely outgoing, while Ted is a bit more reserved. Both are good-looking, especially Amy.
It seems to be kind of an “open secret” that these two have some sort of relationship, but no one is sure to what extent. They eat lunch together every day and always sit next to each other when the whole company goes out to lunch as a group. Most of us work some days at home and some in the office. They always work in the office on the same days and leave at same time. Ted is in Amy’s office 90% of the time anytime I walk by. Ted is constantly complimenting Amy, telling her how young she looks and how much fun she is. They often make flirty comments to each other with underlying sexual undertones (again, all of us are close and people like to joke around so this may not be as weird as it would be in other offices). They take vacations at the same time. When interviewing potential candidates at colleges, they will roadtrip to colleges in the state and interview them together. We often will all go out to bars after work on Thursdays or Fridays. I will use an event a few weeks ago as an example. We went to a bar and they spent almost the whole time talking (not unusual). I often glanced over and saw them squeezing each other’s hands or Ted with his arm around the back of Amy’s chair. At one point, I saw her quickly squeeze his waist. I saw Amy hug him several times, but I also saw her hug several of both our male and female coworkers, as she tends to be touchy-feely when she’s been drinking. At one point, I witnessed Ted ask her what the writing on her shirt said while touching the words on her chest. Towards the end of the night, they went across the street to get food and were gone for almost an hour. They left at the same time that night (in different Ubers).
Regarding their spouses- both have been married for 20+ years. I have worked at the company for almost 7 years and have never met Ted’s wife. He does not wear a wedding ring. He talks about his kids all the time, but never talks about his wife. Some of our coworkers that have worked here for 10 years or more have met her, and no one seems to have good things to say about her. They say she is incredibly stuck up and boring, and almost painful to be around. When Ted’s wife is brought up, people often say they feel bad for him or make jokes- “no wonder he has a crush on Amy, his wife is the worst.” Regarding Amy’s husband, I probably see him once or twice a year. He seems like a nice guy. She also talks way more about her kids, but will occasionally talk about her husband. I don’t know much about their relationship, but she’s made a few comments to me like “we’ve been together since high school, you know how that is” or jokingly said “he married way out of his league” (personally, I think he is handsome and don’t think this is necessarily true).
This has been going on for years, but the reason I’ve thinking about it more is because last week, a young employee we hired less than a month ago privately asked me what was going on between them. I wasn’t sure what to say so I told her the truth: they have a very close relationship, but we don’t know to what extent or if it is sexual. I told her that no one really asks a lot of questions. She was shocked to learn Ted was married. She told me she enjoyed working with them both but picked up on “certain vibes”. The fact that someone working here for 3 weeks picked up on those vibes so quickly made me realize how obvious it really is.
I guess I am wondering what I should do, if anything, in this situation? I really don’t love the fact that a new hire already is asking questions like this. I also think most people get pretty uncomfortable when they witness them being really touchy and flirty. I feel bad for their spouses, as they obviously don’t know the extent of Ted and Amy’s relationship. It is undisputed among my coworkers that Ted is infatuated with Amy, but many of them are not convinced this feeling is reciprocated by Amy. I think it’s likely that they are having an affair, but I also wonder- if they were truly having a sexual relationship, would they really be THIS obvious? Do they even know how obvious they are being? To my knowledge, no one has brought up their relationship to them directly and it is only discussed when they are not around.
Also- not sure if this is something that HR would get involved with without a complaint, but we don’t have an HR department in our office, only at the headquarters, which is located in another city. I don’t think HR is aware of what’s going on, but employees in other offices have even made comments regarding their relationship to people at our office (we have work events where people from different offices all meet up). We are encouraged to speak with HR at any time. However, I’m not sure what that would really accomplish. I also want to emphasize that they are both hard workers and I like them both a lot individually.
Any advice or opinions would be much appreciated!

Hi All, NVC asked me to submit one more document for my wife on Çivil Document: China-Mainland Police Certificate. She studied there, but it has been 14 years ago. So, I sent request to NVC asking to cancel/waiver given document due to its difficulties to get this type of doc from China and in order to get it my wife needs to fly to China. And we have three small kids. They replied to send detailed explanation letter and mail it to NVC. So my question is: is it better to fly and get this certificate or write explanation letter? What is the best way? If just send an explanation letter afraid might hurt counselor interview or DQ will be cancelled and still will ask. What do you think guys? What shall I do?

Dr. Seuss, revolutionized children's literature with his inventive use of language, rhyme schemes, and rhythmic patterns. His ability to craft engaging stories with a cadence that mirrors the beats and flows found in rap music sets a precedent for the genre. Dr. Seuss's books, characterized by their anapestic tetrameter—a rhythmic scheme that uses two short syllables followed by a longer, stressed syllable—are not far removed from the beats that underpin rap music. This rhythm is evident in books like "The Cat in the Hat" and "Green Eggs and Ham," where the flow of words carries a musical quality that can easily be adapted to a rap beat.
Moreover, Dr. Seuss's mastery of wordplay, a core element of rap, showcases his ability to manipulate language in ways that are both humorous and thought-provoking. He often employed invented words and whimsical phrases that not only entertained but also expanded the boundaries of conventional language. This inventiveness is a trait highly valued in rap, where artists like Eminem and Outkast have built careers on their ability to play with words and meanings. The playful yet incisive use of language in Seuss's work mirrors the lyrical dexterity of accomplished rappers, suggesting a foundational influence on the genre's emphasis on linguistic creativity.
Culturally, Dr. Seuss's works have left an indelible mark on multiple generations, much like hip-hop has over the past few decades. His books are more than simple stories; they often carry deeper messages about society, human behavior, and morality. For instance, "The Lorax" speaks to environmental conservation, while "The Sneetches" tackles issues of prejudice and equality. These themes resonate within the rap community, where artists frequently address social justice, inequality, and personal struggle through their music. The ability of Dr. Seuss to weave profound messages into engaging narratives parallels how rappers use their platforms to highlight and challenge societal issues.
Dr. Seuss's influence on rap can also be seen in the direct homage paid by artists who grew up reading his books. Rapper Logic, for example, has cited Dr. Seuss as an inspiration, noting how his rhythmic and playful approach to storytelling influenced his own writing style. The rhythmic quality and creative wordplay that define Seuss's books are evident in the complex, multi-syllabic rhymes and storytelling found in much of rap music today.
So I think it‘s fair to consider Dr. Seuss the Goat considering the stylistic and thematic parallels between his work and the principles of hip-hop culture. Dr. Seuss's innovative use of rhythm, rhyme, and language prefigures the techniques employed by many rap artists, and his cultural impact parallels the transformative power of hip-hop. By examining these connections, one can argue that Dr. Seuss's legacy subtly underpins the linguistic and rhythmic foundations of rap, positioning him as a great pioneer in the art of rhyming and storytelling.

Just wanted to write that I really enjoy this current Twist format which made me genuinely want to play the game a lot more. Normally I stop trying at Diamond 5 in standard/wild and messes around with homebrews, but Twist really have the right tone for me in both the way the game are working compared to standard/wild as well as the fun deck choices.
Latest health balance hit it right imo. Nozdormu took me to legend from D3, smashing every Arfus on the way by early aggression. Kael'thas is everywhere tho, which is fine.
Thanks blizz!

Throw back to 2020. My husband at the time 22M and I 21F had just gotten engaged, graduated college, and began searching for houses. At the time, we were living with my parents. A little back story, back in college 2017 we had just bought a dog and were living in an apartment when we found it had mold. I was sick from it. My parents told me that my dog would die from it if we didn't leave and insisted we move in with them and commute 30 minutes to college. To which I agreed. I am their only child btw. I had a rough upbringing. I thought I was just rebellious but am realizing now they are control freaks. My dad told me when I was 16 that he put a gun to his head outside and almost pulled the trigger and it would have been my fault. My mom called me fat multiple times, forced me into pageants i didn't want to do. she saw my bf kissing me once and wouldn't talk to me for 3 months, couldn't even be in the same room as me or look at me without crying. Oh and she kept saying it's just my first wedding every chance she got. They both told me that being a labor and delivery RN is gay and that I would be a terrible nurse, but I have proved them wrong. There is much more in between all of this but here's some.
My husband and I were searching for houses, we were going to buy one when we told my parents we'd be moving out. They begged us to stay, said we could transform the garage into a living space and they would move out there. They said they would sign the house over to us. My husband was fond of the idea since he didn't want to live in a neighborhood and my parents have 10 acres. I was not fond of it, but knew we would save money in the long run. So we got a contractor and cashed out my husbands inheritance from his deceased father (he died when my husband was 18). I used all of my savings to help pay. It amounted to about 100k after everything.
As soon as we paid, my parents demeanor changed. They became rude and insensitive, saying all sorts of horrendous things. They began heavy drinking mid 2020 because my Grandma died and their life was over. Come to find out, they wouldn't have been able to afford living here if we hadn't taken over. My dad has health problems, but my mom has been perfectly healthy just refuses to work and has had excuses why she hasn't worked for years.
The drinking got worse, my dad called me a bitch for not wanting to pay $7k for painters. I told them we would paint it ourselves. It wasn't good enough for them. They have caused fights about us throwing out a paint can, screaming "one hundred dollars isn't a lot to you but it is to us" and proceeded to say they "don't know how its going to work here" and that they might just take us off everything.
Flash forward to today I'm currently pregnant with our first two children, we are here and they haven't signed the house over. They claim they are trying to merge the property from my Grandma to their house then they will sign it over. We put an additional 50k into much needed upkeep that they fell short on for 30 years. Everyone of my dad's sisters hates him because they feel they were treated unfairly when his mother died. All of my mom's siblings hate her because she convinced my grandma to write her brother out of the property inheritance so he only got his father's side of it. So everyone in the family hates them, but they still sit there and act like saints because they helped take care of both of my grandma's in their end of life.
We have had many fights over the dumbest shit. I could go into so many details but we would run out of space. They have made claims that we're taking advantage of them, how they've sacrificed so much and we haven't done anything for them. They blew their top over a paint can saying "100 dollars isn't much to you but it is to us!" They have threatened to not add us on the house and have said multiple times this isn't going to work. Even better my dad and mom refused to stop smoking and drinking around my babies because "it doesn't affect them". I used to visit every day before I got pregnant and was super sick. But now I visit once a week. But that seems to not be good enough.
It was my baby shower today. Keep in mind, my mom didn't throw me a bridal shower and claimed she was too busy with the renovation even though my husband and I were handling everything. She didn't offer to throw me a baby shower either. My husbands Grandma and my friend did.
Last night I texted my Mom saying that we would be leaving at 9. I figured we would be riding together since we live together and she is going to be a Grandma. Well, my mom ignored me and had my father text me. He told me that she won't be riding with me and she will be riding with a cousin. I told him I think that looks poor given she is the Grandma and shouldn't be arriving with other guests. He texted me saying my husband told him that we can't give my mom a ride. I know this is not true.
What happened was that my husband took the dogs out and at the time had a lot on his mind from work. My dad said my Mom will need a ride to the shower. My Mom insisted she didn't and would drive herself (their car is old and breaking which they have also insinuated that we should be buying them a car). My husband said that either way works and just let us know. Continuing, my father told me that he doesn't want to leave anything to us because of this. And I left it at that.
In the morning, my Mom texted saying she wants to ride with us which we agreed. She never apologized for the behavior or anything, just pretended like nothing was wrong.
My shower was less than ok. My entire family breezed past me, barely asked about my pregnancy or the babies and talked to my Mom. I sat in the corner with my friend and husbands Grandma while my Mom entertained all of them. She excluded my husbands Grandma from the main dining table and spent an hour talking about how hard her life is with my Dad and his health problems. "Nobody knows what I go through" she says.
The shower basically felt like a show for her. My cousin said "I heard you and (my Dad) built a tiny house. That must have been expensive." My mom says "yeah we did!" I walked over and said that MY husband and I paid for it. it was asked why my husband and I aren't living in a one bedroom house or if we will build a new one. I told them it wasn't our idea and we spent our entire savings on it so we have no money left to build a house.
My mom didn't sit by me or take one picture with me prior to this or after.
After the shower, everyone left and I said to my mom that I wasn't aware everyone was under the impression that they paid for everything. She screamed to of her lungs "YOU can't KEEP DOING THIS TO ME!" My husbands Grandpa definitely heard. So do you think she's in the right and has scarified more than I have?
I am getting tired of the threats and becoming more concerned that they will try to evict us even though we pay the gas, electric, wifi, and television bills. With these babies coming soon, I don't know what to do. It would bankrupt us leaving without our money back and buying a new house. Am I ungrateful and in the wrong?

We are all familiar with prating gratitude. It is an overly used concept that many times can turn int o a form of “toxic positivity” and this is far from what I want to do here. What is to be grateful anything?
I believe it is a feeling in a warm tan color in my chest, that makes me smile and think “I am happy I am here to see/experience this.” Maybe it is a religious experience to you, maybe you feel like thanking God or the universe for the opportunity to be here right now.
Another interesting thing is, you don’t have to feel grateful about big life changing experiences only, sometimes I am just grateful for McDonald’s, or for my cat, my friends and family for being there for me. Some days I’m grateful for having to strength to take a shower or drinking a glass of water. You can be grateful about anything.
Practicing gratitude helps us guide our minds into a more positive way of thinking. It doesn’t mean you can’t complain (I love complaining lol) but it helps us thinking about the good things we are actually able to experience.
If this seems too hard for you right, try to modify it to fit your needs: try to write down one complain you have about your day, and battle it with one or two that you feel grateful or happy for. We are all in different stages of our journey. You’re loved and respected, and your feelings are valid.
Now tell me, what are you grateful for today? What are you complain you want to battle with a good thought?

Not really sure how to start this, I have been for a while in this Subreddit and decided to try my luck now also.
Hello all, I am a 27 years old male from Germany. I'm looking for a serious relationship. I would like to have someone who I can trust and depend on 100% and of course expect the same from me. A genuine connection where we can be open about everything with no judgement. Communication is in my opinion the most important part of a good connection to each other. I'm not looking for any short term things or fwb. I don't want and need that.
Some Info about me: - I am 27 years old even though I think I actually look younger than that age😅. I also have Russian roots, so I speak English, German and Russian. I'm 177cm tall and have short brown hair and blue eyes. Also, I'm more on the slim side. I'm not the muscular gym guy if that's a dealbreaker for someone.

• I'm not sure what to tell about my hobbies, since I like a lot of things. I enjoy playing video games and watching TV shows. One of my bigger hobbies at the moment is travelling, which I also would like to do more often. I just want to explore the world and learn about different parts of the world. Life is short and there are so many things to see. I love nature and beautiful landscapes the most about traveling, I would say. I also just enjoy spending time together with other people, and I am actually open to do and try different kind of activities.
  
• In general, I would describe myself as a very loyal and honest person.
  

What I am looking for: - I would prefer if you are from Germany or in Europe, maybe close to Germany or in a country with good access to get there. I just want to keep this realistic.

• I don't really have a specific type for a Person. I am really open-minded, so if it clicks, it clicks. I'm not sure how to explain that. There is only one thing which is unattractive to me. This is not meant to be disrespectful at all, I respect everyone who wants to live the way he wants. But plus size is just something I can't do. I'm not expecting a perfect body, please don't get me wrong. I hope you understand what I mean.
  
• I would love to have someone who enjoys traveling also. If you play video games, it could be nice too, since we could share this hobby easily.
  
• I am also into all sort of cute couple things, maybe it's just that I haven't experienced it yet. I would like it also when you are clingy in a positive way if you know what I mean, like not in a possessive way, maybe.
  
• Also, I would prefer it if you are in the age range between 22-28. I also prefer it if you are not taller than me.
  

I have 2 things I want to be open about in addition.

1. I have social anxiety. I worked on it a lot and honestly try my best to not let it influence my life. I just want to be upfront about it in case it is also a dealbreaker for you. I am open to answer any questions regarding this.
   
2. I have very low, almost none dating experience. I figured out, that this seems to be also a dealbreaker for some people, so I just share it also right away.
   

I value honesty a lot, so you just know what you get if you are interested in writing me. It is just that I maybe need to take some more time with certain things because of the anxiety and lack of experience, which makes me feel insecure. If you have some problems yourself or can relate to this, maybe it is even easier as we share the same experience. So no worries if there is anything I will not judge you for that, the only thing I ask you is to be open about it.
We can also exchange pictures right away if you want or if you feel more comfortable, I don't mind if we first write and learn about each other first and exchange it afterward.
If you are interested, please write me a message or send me a chat. Maybe you could give me a short description of yourself and then we will see how things develop 🙃
Thank you for reading this and I wish you all the best.

Hello:
I’ve got an app that only seems to like its work files to use a Drive:\Path location (e.g. X:\App\Datafiles) rather than an UNC (\server\Share\DataFiles). The app needs a windows service yet the setup program only gave options for “Local System Account” or “Network Service Account”.
Given these limitations, how to ensure that “NT AUTHORITY\SYSTEM” (the account that is behind the “Local System Account” option in the Windows service MMC) always has the drives necessary to allow this app’s service to access its files?
I looked into it and don’t like what I see: * a batch file as a scheduled task set to “at system startup” calling psexec to map it. I don’t like this option due to not being able to control with 100% accuracy that the batch file will run before the services for this app start up (thus causing the system to fail the service startup) plus it needs an external tool and is kind of a hack job as it leaves a (false) “Disconnected Network Drive” visible to everyone who logs in at that server (admittedly only myself and a select few other people) * choose to run the service with a specified local account but then need to muck about with NTFS and share permissions on a directory by directory basis (it expects certain directories/files full control, while others read/write, while others with various permissions if using anything other than local system) * upgrade and get on with it. This is not a valid choice due to: (1) I am supporting a customer who’s line of business has centralized on this thing as THE way to handle email and calendaring, (2) “old timers” gonna be “old timers” and resist change with “if it ain’t broke… why fix it? Along with justifying not moving to a newer generation of this messaging system that still exists by citing things like “we’ve sunk the last x (10+) years of our data (email, calendaring, documents) into this system, migration up to a later version would be too costly financially, interfere with day to day business operations, and we’ve already gotten custom development work to extend this messaging system for our organization’s needs beyond accepted industry standards”, (3) it plays well with their instant messaging and presence system for both inter-site and intra-site use (IM Made by same vendor) and custom integration with their PBX and paging system, (4) I don’t have the cash to upgrade my lab to a newer version nor the time to take additional training on upgraded versions, plus I got lucky getting their exact version in a lot of assorted old software on eBay.

Throw back to 2020. My husband at the time 22M and I 21F had just gotten engaged, graduated college, and began searching for houses. At the time, we were living with my parents. A little back story, back in college 2017 we had just bought a dog and were living in an apartment when we found it had mold. I was sick from it. My parents told me that my dog would die from it if we didn't leave and insisted we move in with them and commute 30 minutes to college. To which I agreed. I am their only child btw. I had a rough upbringing. I thought I was just rebellious but am realizing now they are control freaks. My dad told me when I was 16 that he put a gun to his head outside and almost pulled the trigger and it would have been my fault. My mom called me fat multiple times, forced me into pageants i didn't want to do. she saw my bf kissing me once and wouldn't talk to me for 3 months, couldn't even be in the same room as me or look at me without crying. Oh and she kept saying it's just my first wedding every chance she got. They both told me that being a labor and delivery RN is gay and that I would be a terrible nurse, but I have proved them wrong. There is much more in between all of this but here's some.
My husband and I were searching for houses, we were going to buy one when we told my parents we'd be moving out. They begged us to stay, said we could transform the garage into a living space and they would move out there. They said they would sign the house over to us. My husband was fond of the idea since he didn't want to live in a neighborhood and my parents have 10 acres. I was not fond of it, but knew we would save money in the long run. So we got a contractor and cashed out my husbands inheritance from his deceased father (he died when my husband was 18). I used all of my savings to help pay. It amounted to about 100k after everything.
As soon as we paid, my parents demeanor changed. They became rude and insensitive, saying all sorts of horrendous things. They began heavy drinking mid 2020 because my Grandma died and their life was over. Come to find out, they wouldn't have been able to afford living here if we hadn't taken over. My dad has health problems, but my mom has been perfectly healthy just refuses to work and has had excuses why she hasn't worked for years.
The drinking got worse, my dad called me a bitch for not wanting to pay $7k for painters. I told them we would paint it ourselves. It wasn't good enough for them. They have caused fights about us throwing out a paint can, screaming "one hundred dollars isn't a lot to you but it is to us" and proceeded to say they "don't know how its going to work here" and that they might just take us off everything.
Flash forward to today I'm currently pregnant with our first two children, we are here and they haven't signed the house over. They claim they are trying to merge the property from my Grandma to their house then they will sign it over. We put an additional 50k into much needed upkeep that they fell short on for 30 years. Everyone of my dad's sisters hates him because they feel they were treated unfairly when his mother died. All of my mom's siblings hate her because she convinced my grandma to write her brother out of the property inheritance so he only got his father's side of it. So everyone in the family hates them, but they still sit there and act like saints because they helped take care of both of my grandma's in their end of life.
We have had many fights over the dumbest shit. I could go into so many details but we would run out of space. They have made claims that we're taking advantage of them, how they've sacrificed so much and we haven't done anything for them. They blew their top over a paint can saying "100 dollars isn't much to you but it is to us!" They have threatened to not add us on the house and have said multiple times this isn't going to work. Even better my dad and mom refused to stop smoking and drinking around my babies because "it doesn't affect them". I used to visit every day before I got pregnant and was super sick. But now I visit once a week. But that seems to not be good enough.
It was my baby shower today. Keep in mind, my mom didn't throw me a bridal shower and claimed she was too busy with the renovation even though my husband and I were handling everything. She didn't offer to throw me a baby shower either. My husbands Grandma and my friend did.
Last night I texted my Mom saying that we would be leaving at 9. I figured we would be riding together since we live together and she is going to be a Grandma. Well, my mom ignored me and had my father text me. He told me that she won't be riding with me and she will be riding with a cousin. I told him I think that looks poor given she is the Grandma and shouldn't be arriving with other guests. He texted me saying my husband told him that we can't give my mom a ride. I know this is not true.
What happened was that my husband took the dogs out and at the time had a lot on his mind from work. My dad said my Mom will need a ride to the shower. My Mom insisted she didn't and would drive herself (their car is old and breaking which they have also insinuated that we should be buying them a car). My husband said that either way works and just let us know. Continuing, my father told me that he doesn't want to leave anything to us because of this. And I left it at that.
In the morning, my Mom texted saying she wants to ride with us which we agreed. She never apologized for the behavior or anything, just pretended like nothing was wrong.
My shower was less than ok. My entire family breezed past me, barely asked about my pregnancy or the babies and talked to my Mom. I sat in the corner with my friend and husbands Grandma while my Mom entertained all of them. She excluded my husbands Grandma from the main dining table and spent an hour talking about how hard her life is with my Dad and his health problems. "Nobody knows what I go through" she says.
The shower basically felt like a show for her. My cousin said "I heard you and (my Dad) built a tiny house. That must have been expensive." My mom says "yeah we did!" I walked over and said that MY husband and I paid for it. it was asked why my husband and I aren't living in a one bedroom house or if we will build a new one. I told them it wasn't our idea and we spent our entire savings on it so we have no money left to build a house.
My mom didn't sit by me or take one picture with me prior to this or after.
After the shower, everyone left and I said to my mom that I wasn't aware everyone was under the impression that they paid for everything. She screamed to of her lungs "YOU can't KEEP DOING THIS TO ME!" My husbands Grandpa definitely heard. So do you think she's in the right and has scarified more than I have?
I am getting tired of the threats and becoming more concerned that they will try to evict us even though we pay the gas, electric, wifi, and television bills. With these babies coming soon, I don't know what to do. It would bankrupt us leaving without our money back and buying a new house. Am I ungrateful and in the wrong?

This week’s vintage batch features European FPs from the 1930s-50s, most of which are piston fillers. Nibs range from a springy to Wet Noodle, including one dip-pen nib retrofit. As always, all are fully restored and ready to write.
 
ALBUM & TIMESTAMP
 
Pastable link: https://imgur.com/a/QtB5ctS
 
Condition (n.b.): All pens listed below have been disassembled, cleaned and restored with new sacs installed in the last couple weeks and seals installed in the last couple years. Each of these pens is guaranteed to fill and write as designed without leaks or other problems. Nibs have been adjusted when necessary to ensure that all lay down a smooth and consistent line.
THESE PENS HAVE NO CRACKS (except #3), CHIPS, PERSONALIZATIONS, LOOSE OR MISSING PARTS, BENT NIBS, MISALIGNED TINES, BROKEN/WORN OFF TIPPING, OR THREADING ISSUES.
 
Line Widths and Writing Samples: To provide buyers with as much information as possible, I have adopted the following line width standards: XXF (.1-.2mm); XF (approx .3mm); F (approx .4mm); M (approx .6mm); B (approx .8mm). Nib flexibility is determined by variation (max line width under pressure) and softness (amount of pressure). Flexibility designations based on variation generally run as follows for an XF/F nib: Semi-Flex (approx. 1mm); Flex (1.2-1.9mm); Superflex (2mm+). All line width measurements are taken with a digital caliper but should be considered approximations providing a general guide. Width may vary slightly depending on type of ink and paper used as well as amount of pressure applied. All writing samples are on Rhodia dot paper using Waterman Serenity Blue.
 
 
1. 1950s Pelikan 400 (Tortoise, celluloid, GPT, piston filler, 14k KM [F/M Ball] nib). This standard-sized model measures 4 15/16” capped. I assume that the Pelikan pen company requires no introduction here :) This is an example of one of Pelikan’s most celebrated vintage pens in tortoiseshell celluloid with transparent striations for viewing the ink level. Classic gold-plated cap band and Pelikan-beak clip. Two-chick Pelikan logo stamped in captop (see DETAIL PHOTO). This pen is a piston filler: to fill simply rotate the blind cap counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submerse the nib, and rotate the piston clockwise until it comes to a stop. Blind cap is stamped KM, corresponding to the ‘M’ marking on the 14k Pelikan nib. The ‘’K’ is for ‘Kugel’ (‘ball), designating this nib as a ball nib, the tipping finished to give it a wider sweet spot for smooth writing at a wide range of angles. Though I wouldn’t call it a flex nib, it does have a springiness and buttery smoothness that’s quite nice. It lays down a smooth and consistent F/M line by the standards above (see WRITING SAMPLE). Condition: fine [C]. I’d describe this pen as more of a user. It’s been fully restored with a new seal and is guaranteed to fill smoothly to factory capacity without leaks. However, there’s an issue with the piston while unscrewing the blind cap all the way that makes the blind cap want to lift up and disengage when the piston is close to fully extended. The solution to this is simple enough: apply a little downward pressure to the piston when unscrewing the blind cap to extend the piston and it works just as it should every time (100% reliable). This has been factored into the price all the same. Barrel transparency is near mint with light yellow coloration and no staining (see DETAIL PHOTO). Gold-plated trim shows brassing to the bottom of the clip and a sliver around the bottom edge of the cap band as well as some nicks to the top edge of the clip tassie. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprints are deep and fully legible. A chance to own one of these with superb clarity at less than half the price they fetch on merchant websites. Price: $190
 
2. 1939-44 Pelikan 100 Wartime (green Binde, celluloid, NPT, piston filler, chromium nickel [CN] steel Oblique F/M-XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 4 5/8” capped. During the material restrictions of WWII, Pelikan made several, short-lived changes to the 100. In place of 14k nibs they implemented Chromium-Nickel steel nibs marked CN. The gold-plated clip was supplanted by nickel-plated (so-called "reverse trim"). And the gold-plated cap bands gave way to no cap bands at all, the cap being either smooth or milled with decorative bands like this example. This wartime model is 100% original and correct, having all these features, including the original nib. It is made of celluloid with a vibrant green marble Binde. Pelikan two-chick logo stamped on the cap top (see DETAIL PHOTO). Barrel underneath is a transparent green for viewing the ink level. This pen is a piston filler: to fill simply rotate the blind cap counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submerse the nib, and rotate the piston clockwise until it comes to a stop. The Pelikan CN nib is a Left-Foot Oblique (iridium is ground in a shape like your left foot viewed from above). Under normal pressure it lays down a smooth and consistent F/M on the cross-strokes and XF line on the down-strokes. And the line widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.9mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Versatile variation and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it a great choice for shaded writing and expressive styles. And the tipping was smoothed by Rick Propas when this pen was restored, making it just as buttery smooth as a Pelikan 14k nib. Condition: near mint [B+]. This pen comes from my personal collection and is the result of hunting the best example I could find. Wartime 100s are rare and this one, which resembles an artifact from a time-capsule, took me decades to track down. Nickel-plated trim is pristine with no brassing or other notable wear. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other noteworthy blemishes. Barrel clarity is superb with no discernible darkening or staining (see DETAIL PHOTO). Manufacturer imprints on the captop are factory deep and even contain most of their original green fill. The only hiccup is that despite being restored 2 years ago by Rick Propas and only being filled 1-2 times since, this pen only fills to half capacity. And this despite the piston operating as smooth as they come. I’ve regreased the pen, but it hasn’t seemed to make a difference. Because this pen is more off a collector-oriented find, I’ve decided to list it anyway. You’d be hard pressed to find another example of this rare piece of Pelikan history in better cosmetic condition. Price: $450
 
3. 1930s Luxor Visible 5907 (red and translucent web celluloid, NPT, piston filler, 14k Two-Tone XF Super-Flex nib). At 4 7/8" capped, this pen roughly the same length as a Pelikan. Luxor was a German brand of the Hebborn pen company, founded in 1925 by former Kaweco employee Heinrich Hebborn and located in Heidelberg until relocating to Cologne sometime before 1937. In Richard Binder's words: "The company produced pens of high quality, and it was known universally by the name of its signature brand, Luxor, with designs inspired by the aesthetic of ancient Egypt. Sub-brands included Sphinx, Visible, and Grandvisible" (source). The company is credited with having designed the first telescopic piston mechanism, which Montblanc would famously incorporate into its own designs. Despite their high quality, there weren't very many of these pens made and Luxors are especially scarce finds in the US today. This Visible model is made of a stunning red and translucent web celluloid similar to that which Wahl-Eversharp used for the Doric. Unlike the Doric, however, the entire barrel is translucent to show the ink level and piston operation. The cap is also translucent! The celluloid pattern is complemented by nickel-plated clip in an elegant Egyptian motif and triple cap bands with one wider, knurled band. This piston filler holds far more ink than cartridges, converters, and lever fillers of the same size. It is filled by removing the blind cap to reveal the turning knob (see fillers photo), rotating the knob counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submersing the nib, then rotating the knob clockwise until the piston is fully retracted. The pen is equipped with a beautiful 14k two-tone Luxor nib stamped with the pyramidal Luxor trademark. The nib is a Super-Flexible writer, laying down a smooth and consistent XF line that widens to a 4B+ (approx 2.3mm capped) under light pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Thin hairlines, strong snap-back and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it a great choice for calligraphic writing styles such as Copperplate and Spencerian. Condition: excellent+ [B+] aside from a hairline crack in the shank of the nib. The crack can be seen in the photos. It has no effect on the nibs performance or how it writes. And there’s no reason to think it’ll worsen unless the nib and feed are removed and re-installed (something that is only done on vintage pens for repair, not flushing). I’m happy to offer a one-year guarantee (no-questions return for refund) that this crack won’t get any longer. Nickel-plated furniture is remarkably clean, showing no brassing or other notable wear aside from a small spot of brassing on the bottom terminus of the clip. Red color is of an even shade across the cap and barrel. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any miscroscratches. Barrel clarity is excellent but slightly ambered in comparison to the cap's (see DETAIL PHOTO). Manufacturer imprint on the cap is deep and fully legible. An uncommon and uncommonly eye-catching pen that also happens to be a lovely writer. *Price: $290
 
4. 1940s-50s Oversized Stylomine 303 Retrofit (black, celluloid, NPT, accordion filler converted to twist filler, 14k XXF Needlepoint Wet Noodle nib). This oversized pen is massive, having a thick girth that doesn’t fit all the way into the slots of the slotter box and a capped length of 5 3/8.” Stylomine was a Parisian pen company founded shortly after World War I. Streamlined profile, clip, and font of the imprint exude the aesthetics of midcentury design. This pen is made of black celluloid with tapered ends. Nickel-plated trim in a deluxe configuration includes cool spring-loaded clip with a hallmark ‘Y Z’ on the right side. I wasn’t able to track this down, but it’s possible the clip is either sterling silver or silver-plated. In 1940 the company patented an innovative FP filling system comprised of a rubber sac shaped into a bellows and attached to a glass ink cartridge at the end of the barrel (see fillers photo). Referred to as an accordion filler today, the pen was designed to be filled by removing the blindcap and depressing the glass ink cartridge several times until the cartridge fills with ink. Since accordion sacs are no longer being made, I followed David Nishimura’s advice and restored this pen using a standard tubular sac trimmed at both ends. This essentially converted it into a twist filler so that instead of depressing the glass cartridge one twists it a little over 1 full turn to fill the sac as well as 1/3 to 1/2 of the glass cartridge. Thanks to the size of the pen, this retrofitted solution still allows it to hold about as much ink as a typical lever filler (e.g. Waterman 52). This pen came to me nibless. But I was able to find a serendipitous match in a massive 14k, iridium tipped E.S. Johnson #4 nib stamped ‘303’. This number matches the Stylomine model number on the barrel! Like all my dip pen nib retrofits, the nib and feed were modified to guarantee factory fit, flow, and performance, delivering the best of both centuries. That nib yields Flexible variation with Wet Noodle softness, laying down a smooth and consistent XXF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.8mm) under minimal pressure – i.e. anything more than grazing the page (see WRITING SAMPLE). Don’t be fooled by the max line width. Needlepoint hairlines, effortless variation, surgically responsive snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it an ideal choice for calligraphic writing styles such as Copperplate and Spencerian. Condition: excellent+ [B+]. Nickel-plated trim shows no brassing or other notable flaws. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on barrel is deep and fully legible with ‘Made in France’ slightly weakened. Price: $340
 
5. 1930s Big Ben (grey shell, celluloid, NPT, piston filler, 14k XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 5 1/16” capped. Big Ben was a trademark of the Benzion Trading Company of Copenhagen, Denmark. The company was founded in 1933 by Niels Benzion, who had worked for the Wahl-Eversharp. A pen of cosmopolitan origins, the Big Ben has a piston-filler patented in England (hence the cap imprint) while the pen was made in collaboration with H. Hebborn & of Heidelberg, Germany. That is why this pen so closely resembles the Luxor above. This particular example is made of celluloid in a grey shell pattern resembling that of a 2nd-gen Eversharp Doric complemented by nickel-plated clip in an elegant Egyptian motif and triple cap bands with one wider, knurled band, and decorative bands at the ends of the cap and barrel. This piston filler holds far more ink than cartridges, converters, and lever fillers of the same size. It is filled by removing the blind cap to reveal the turning knob (see fillers photo), rotating the knob counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submersing the nib, then rotating the knob clockwise until the piston is fully retracted. Big Bens came with two different 14k nibs depending on when they were made and for what market: a nib stamped ‘Big Ben’ in cursive font; and a nib stamped ‘1st Quality’ in the same distinctive font. This pen is equipped with the latter. That nib is a Flexible writer, laying down a smooth and consistent XF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.9mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Thin hairlines, strong, snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it an excellent choice for expressive and shaded writing. Condition: excellent [B]. Barrel transparency is superb with no staining and a yellow coloration (see DETAIL PHOTO). Nickel-plated trim is clean with no brassing or other notable wear aside from a tiny spot at the bottom terminus of the clip visible under a loupe, a couple spots on the lower cap band that have lost some of their original luster, and thinning of the plating on the blind cap’s thin decorative band. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes - scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on cap is deep and fully legible. Price: $330
 
6. 1930s Orion Everlasting 552 in Box with Papers (Black and Bronze, celluloid, GPT, lever filler, 14k XXF/XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 5 1/4” capped. Orion was Danish company (located in Copenhagen) that imported quality pen parts from Germany and England and assemble the pens in Denmark. In 1933 they changed their name to Miller Pen Co., a writing instrument importer that exists to this day. This pen comes in its original factory box with exquisite paperwork (see DETAIL PHOTO). It’s made of the same black and Bronze celluloid Conklin used for the Endura, complemented by gold-plated trim with elegant, Art Deco clip stamped ‘Orion’. Flexible 14k Orion #2 nib lays down a smooth and consistent XXF/XF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.8mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE. )). Thin hairlines, strong, snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it another excellent choice for expressive and shaded writing. Condition: excellent [B]. The only noteworthy flaw on this pen is brassing to the center of the clip over the Orion trademark. Trim is otherwise pristine with no noteworthy flaws. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes - scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on barrel is deep and fully legible. Price: $240
 
 
 
Shipping: Pens purchased on the weekend are mailed on Tuesday. Otherwise they are mailed within 2 business days of payment. All pens that do not come with their original boxes are packaged in PVC or thick plastic tubes to protect them in transit. To CONUS locations the following shipping options are available:

• USPS First-Class with tracking for $5 Due to the delivery delays that continue under postmaster general DeJoy, I strongly recommend that the Priority shipping option be chosen. All packages will include full insurance (covered by me). Rest assured that a full refund is guaranteed (issued through Paypal) in the event of a lost parcel and you will not have to wait until I receive a reimbursement from the USPS.
  
• USPS Priority with tracking for $9
  

International Customers: Please contact me for shipping quote if located abroad (delivery confirmation required). (Note: due to the issues stated above, my international shipping options are currently limited. PM for more info). Please do not ask me to commit mail fraud by altering the declared value of a pen for customs. Not only am I registered as a business but shipping insurance is based on declared value.
New York Customers: For tax purposes, I am now required to add an 8% sales tax on any sale made in the state of NY. If your shipping address is in NY state, please let me know before payment to receive an adjusted total. Discounted shipping is included for NY State residents to help defray the extra cost.
Ordering: Pens are placed on hold for the first person to reply to the thread and PM me with firm request to purchase (no chat DMs please). A request with the words “I'd like to purchase [pen number]” would be best to avoid confusion), to which I’ll reply with payment details. Please note that a message inquiring into a price discount does not suffice to place a pen on hold. If I haven't received Paypal payment within 24 hrs after a hold is placed, then pen(s) may become available to the next person.
Payment, & Guarantee: Payment by Paypal only. All pens are guaranteed to be in the condition in which I've described them. If I've missed something objectionable or the filling mechanism is not fully functional, the buyer may contact me up to 7 days after receiving the pen for a full refund (issued once I receive the pen back in the same condition as sold). Buyer must ship the return no later than 2 weeks after it was delivered to receive a refund. I've sold pens online for over a decade. Please check my past listings here as well as on the classifieds and historical sales forums on FPN (username: Estragon) and FPGeeks (popcod) for some of my previous offerings.
 
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• Vintage Montegrappa Extra Edacoto
  
• Waterman Nurse’s Sets
  
• Off-Catalogue Sheaffer Stubby Balance Lifetime
  
• Psychedelic Bayard Excselsior
  
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• Conklin Enduras, Nozac