Pain olympics meat grinder.
The unexpected joys of life after top surgery
2024.05.16 17:16 Worried-Wishbone-724 The unexpected joys of life after top surgery
I had surgery on March 1st so I’m about three months post op and can I just say I never thought I would feel this happy and at home in this lifetime. It’s unbelievable and feels like each day is a dream. Here are some unexpected joys/benefits I’ve had and I hope everyone will share theirs as well!
No bindebra to limit movement which allows for better dance moves 🕺
Heartburn has decreased by at least 75%
Rolling over in my sleep and not feeling my chest collide into itself like those toys with the balls you bang together
Breathing deeply and fully without the added weight of two meat racks
Throwing a shirt on and not having to adjust myself in the mirror until I’m ready to cry and cancel my plans
Cat can now lay directly on my chest and over my heart (his purrs and my heartbeat is the perfect relaxation combo)
I can wash my lower half in the shower without squishing ten pounds of tissue into my stomach (tying my shoes is easier as well)
Hugging feels amazing
Eliminating neck/shoulderib pain
Going for walks and not immediately having to come home and rip my binder off cause two gallons of sweat have appeared underneath it
And probably the best overall, feeling like I’m real for the first time. I’m able to show up authentically and genuinely in all aspects of my life cause it finally feels like I’m in the game and not on the sidelines.
Share your own experiences or things you’re looking forward to! Top surgery is 1000% the most wonderful gift I’ve ever given myself.
submitted by Worried-Wishbone-724 to TopSurgery [link] [comments]
No bindebra to limit movement which allows for better dance moves 🕺
Heartburn has decreased by at least 75%
Rolling over in my sleep and not feeling my chest collide into itself like those toys with the balls you bang together
Breathing deeply and fully without the added weight of two meat racks
Throwing a shirt on and not having to adjust myself in the mirror until I’m ready to cry and cancel my plans
Cat can now lay directly on my chest and over my heart (his purrs and my heartbeat is the perfect relaxation combo)
I can wash my lower half in the shower without squishing ten pounds of tissue into my stomach (tying my shoes is easier as well)
Hugging feels amazing
Eliminating neck/shoulderib pain
Going for walks and not immediately having to come home and rip my binder off cause two gallons of sweat have appeared underneath it
And probably the best overall, feeling like I’m real for the first time. I’m able to show up authentically and genuinely in all aspects of my life cause it finally feels like I’m in the game and not on the sidelines.
Share your own experiences or things you’re looking forward to! Top surgery is 1000% the most wonderful gift I’ve ever given myself.
2024.05.16 16:45 RevolutionaryGrade25 Fires of Arcane: Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Fires of Damnation
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June 1, 2030, Tokyo, Japan - 1:00 am JST- 2 and a half hours post-invasion
Aquila Generalis scoured the ruined metropolis. She held a torch in her upper left hand and a gargantuan gladius in her upper right. She had large nets filled with writhing Japanese civilians in her lower left and right appendages. The civilians screamed and squirmed like fish in netting. Some humans were cradling streaming infants and crying children. Others cradled their spouses, elderly parents, or anyone nearby. Most just panicked. A few rational humans used small knives or their teeth to sever the netting, much to the amusement of an onlooking dragon. Movement from an apartment complex caught the attention of a tremendous soldier. The soldier stuck his hand into the ruined apartment complex while the rest stopped and stared at him.
"What are you doing?" Asked another soldier. She raised an eyebrow and gave her fellow soldier a puzzled look.
The giant stretched his right arm, straining himself. He pressed his left arm against the building to maintain balance.
"Need some help?" The amused dragon sneered.
The giant hissed in excretion and annoyance. He stretched his fingers, a determined fervor taking over him. He pushed a desk over, revealing a cowering human. The giant grabbed the human by its legs and dragged the Man toward his eye.
"Got him." The soldier hissed.
Some of the giants began crowding around the building. Most gathered to steal their compatriot's meal, while a few scoured the facility for more humans. The soldier's single eye widened with glee. He licked his lips with anticipation; the sight of fresh meat entranced him in a state of euphoria. A small gust of wind blew towards him as he dragged the screaming human towards his eye. The giants opened their maws in anticipation, a toothy grin plastered on their faces. The human revealed a small device, and the gigantic glutton paid no mind. The monster feasted on many humans when he entered the metropolis. He had never seen such a colossal city nor so many humans packed into one place. This human would be one of his many victims. When the human was before the titan, he sprayed a mysterious substance into the titan's eye. The giant released the human and covered his single elephantine eye. He wailed in pain and stumbled backward, knocking his comrades over. The Mammoth of a Monster cried like a newborn infant while his comrades groaned in pain.
Aquila Generalis glowered at her pathetic legion while the dragon erupted in laughter. Others stopped searching the building to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing their fellow giant reduced to a weeping wimp, they laughed.
"I'm blind. I'm Blind! I'M BLII-I-I-IND!" The giant wailed.
"I CAN'T SEE. I. CAN'T. SEE-EE!!!" he whipped his eye furiously, Wailing all the while.
Aquila Generalis put the nets down. She marched toward the foolish giant, pulled him to his feet, and glared at her soldiers. They quickly stopped laughing. The dragon, on the other hand, was hooting and hollering.
"I'M bLiNd. I cAn'T sEe. Oh, HeLp MeE!" the dragon jeered.
The general ignored him for the sake of her health. She shook the crying Cyclops, then slapped him.
"What is wrong with you, soldier?"
The cyclops sobbed quietly. "The h-human sp-sprayed me with s-something." He said between sniffles.
The general clutched the bridge of her nose. I do not have time for this. As the general berated the legionnaire, Strange beasts dotted the night sky.
—-----
Japan Air and Space Self-Defense Force (JASSDF)
"I have a visual on the targets. Be advised targets have hostages. Do not fire unless you have a clear shot."
—-----
The dragon looked up while the commander chastised her soldier. Upon laying eyes on the strange flying contraptions, the dragon narrowed his eyes.
"Aquila"
"Aquila!"
"Not now, dragon!" The general continued berating the Cyclops.
"Look up, stupid giant."
"Not now, you serpentine-"
The dragon was blown to pieces. His scales, limbs, teeth, and other body parts were scattered on the roof he once stood on. Chaos ensued as the squadron of Mitsubishi F-2 fighters lit up the sky. Before General Aquila could react, A missile hit her head, detonating. Brain matter and skull fragments decorated the buildings, creating a collage of carnage. Most of the legion tried to bring out their slings, only for their bones and organs to paint the metropolis. The few remaining legionnaires fled, leaving their human hostages. Dragons from nearby, alerted by the explosions, came to investigate. A barrage of missiles shot down the dragons that flew toward the squadron. Blood, bone, and flesh rained down on the streets of northern Tokyo.
—-----
“Clear. Send evac for civvies.”
***
June 1, 2030, Tokyo, Japan - 2:00 am JST- 3 and a half hours post-invasion
North Gate- a park in northern Tokyo
The invasion was successful. Thousands of humans fell before the trollish legion of Luath and the elven legion of Grásta; hundreds more huddled in cages, ready to be processed into food or slaves. The trolls fought in ritualistic combat for their human trophies. At the same time, the elves watched, knowing they would be given most of the quarry due to their inherent superiority. The lesser fae were presented their trophies early: the elderly, infirm, and those too young to be used. With nothing better to do, most of the lesser fae reentered the gate while a select few remained. Ginearálta de Grásta, General of the Grásta legion, speaks with one of his soldiers.
"This is quite the nest."
"Agreed, Sir. It is almost…." The soldier marveled at the large city, its towering structures piercing the heavens. "Impressive," the soldier sighed.
"Uncanny? Yes. Impressive? No. These are intelligent animals capable of fabricating wonders, but animals nonetheless. They mimic our customs, art, and concepts but lack the capacity to create true marvels. True marvels are the domain of those who wield the arcane, for it is the arcane that elevates us to the realm of sapience. Only those capable of wielding the arcane can be called sapient and only sapients can build something impressive. Everything Man creates is a caricature of our achievements; remember that."
"Of course, sir." the soldier said hesitantly.
"You are a fine soldier; what is your title?"
"Saighdiúir giolcach, sir." the soldier hastily replied.
"I've seen you around, and you show great potential. Your loyalty to Tír na Nog and the elven race cannot be ignored. Follow me."
Saighdiúir Giolcach, The soldier of reeds, obeyed his general's command. The soldier caught glimpses of the dueling trolls from the corner of his eyes as he passed by. Ginearálta de Grásta and Saighdiúir Giolcach passed by some trees and bushes until they reached a clearing full of human cages. Ginearálta de Grásta stepped directly in front of a cage and knelt to get a closer look at the captives. Saighdiúir Giolcach slowed down and stopped a few feet from his commander.
"Come closer, soldier."
The soldier hesitantly stepped closer and looked inside the cages. Humans were tightly packed inside, shoulder to shoulder, shaking and quietly sobbing. Their clothing was torn and filthy, and their faces were stained with dust and tears. They inched away from the general, squishing each other in the process. The site disgusted him, but he maintained his composure.
"Have you ever seen a human before?" the general asked inquisitively.
"No, sir. My father showed me pictures and told stories, but that's it. My family doesn't have enough money to own half-bloods, let alone pure humans." the soldier replied.
"Well, boy, today is your lucky day. Pick one." The general commanded.
Saighdiúir Giolcach gazed upon the mass of frightened humans. "Humans are master mimics; they cannot wield the arcane. They're just beasts," he repeated to himself as he stared into the cage in front of him.
He stared at a frightened Japanese woman, an adolescent just like him. They're supposed to be animals, but their eyes ... their eyes. Anguish, anxiety, grief, sadness, and so many emotions swirled within those expressive eyes. The outside commotion faded as the soldier drowned in her eyes. As his breathing and heart rate accelerated, he began questioning everything he learned about humanity and the definition of sapience. This isn't right; nothing is right. The soldier of reeds remembered his father's stories of glorious manhunts and successful raids. He remembered his mother's proverbs on magic and how it separated them from their pets and livestock. The elves are the superior race, far superior to humans. Humans are pets, livestock, slaves, and —NO! He took three steps back. He was wrong, his family was wrong, everyone was wrong. This is ₩ⱤØ₦₲. I won't condone this.
"C̸̵̨̨̳͕̙̤̥̞͕͇̦͙̟̲ͭ̋͑ͥͮ̌ͬͬ́̃ͦ̾͆͢͡ē̸̸͇͇̣͓̣̖̲̘̋ͮ̓ͭ̀͑̏̓͗_̙̰͓̲̠̪̮͔̔̎͌ͪ͐̈́̆͘a̢͖̱̱̙̲̩̠̯͔̙̖͚ͤ̈́̇̋ͯͬ͆ͥ̆ͮń̴̡͍̘̠͍̩̺͖̟̲̉ͫ̀ͤͧ̆̈̅͆̂̐̒̋͊̒̋͟͢͟͞͞ͅn̸̛̘̫̯̘̝̱̬͉̝̲͈̿ͪ́́̽ͦ̈ͯ̄͒̈̅̍̚ d͖̣̬͈͚ḭ̛̘͚͕̱́́ͧͭ̓̐̍̽͞ͅl̚į̸̧̹̖͎̻͓ͮ̐̒ͮ̋̂̀ͯ̎̉͐ͦ̑ͦͩͤ͘͟͡s͇̿̃ d͉̬̂ͦ͗è̷̷̻͓̭͎̣̠̱̞̮̦ͤ̈́̓͑̍̒̈̏ͭͯ̕͘͘͜ Ģ̢̙̼̩̮̪̤̮͚̭͖͖̥͍͈̳̲̠͒̉̂ͥ̔ͨ́ͧ́ͬͤ́ͩ̍ͫ̃͌ͯͤ̕͟͢͝ī̷̡̢̨̧̦̩̩̙͕̦͖̞̠̘̬̰͕ͣͧ̑̾̚͢͠ͅ_̛̀̀̉́ͬ͝o̴̘̭͈̜͍͕͉̤̜̘͖͍̠̎͑́ͫ̍̎̔̏ͮ͂ͩ́͘͟l̸̴̵̵̛̫͎͍͔̜̘͉̭̭̳̻̮̖̉͐̆ͫ̇͑ͧ̿̄͑̍ͦ́̅̅ͯ̀̈ͫ̓̊̍̆̃ć̸̴̵̻̪̻̘̮͎̟̫͚͉̗̳̞̦̒ͪ̇̏̄̈́ͤ͗͘͢͝ͅaͮ̒c̡̡͉̮̟̤̭̻̥̩̗̭͔̺̎̀̀̊̃ͬ̀͆͋̆ͣ̐̄́͛͒̏ͩ̾͆̾ͯ̚͟͡ͅͅh͎̞͓̳̞͙̼̱͇͓͂ͨͧ̂ͩͣ̈́̈͗̿̓̆͂́̈́͗ͯ̆ͩ̕͝͞ͅͅ, you faithless fool." The general growled. Arcane power filled his lungs.
The general stood up, turned around, and scowled at the boy. At the invocation of his true name, the soldier froze. The general's magic seeped into his body, causing a sharp, burning pain to envelop him.
Despite the agony, C̸̵̨̨̳͕̙̤̥̞͕͇̦͙̟̲ͭ̋͑ͥͮ̌ͬͬ́̃ͦ̾͆͢͡ē̸̸͇͇̣͓̣̖̲̘̋ͮ̓ͭ̀͑̏̓͗_̙̰͓̲̠̪̮͔̔̎͌ͪ͐̈́̆͘a̢͖̱̱̙̲̩̠̯͔̙̖͚ͤ̈́̇̋ͯͬ͆ͥ̆ͮń̴̡͍̘̠͍̩̺͖̟̲̉ͫ̀ͤͧ̆̈̅͆̂̐̒̋͊̒̋͟͢͟͞͞ͅn̸̛̘̫̯̘̝̱̬͉̝̲͈̿ͪ́́̽ͦ̈ͯ̄͒̈̅̍̚ d͖̣̬͈͚ḭ̛̘͚͕̱́́ͧͭ̓̐̍̽͞ͅl̚į̸̧̹̖͎̻͓ͮ̐̒ͮ̋̂̀ͯ̎̉͐ͦ̑ͦͩͤ͘͟͡s͇̿̃ d͉̬̂ͦ͗è̷̷̻͓̭͎̣̠̱̞̮̦ͤ̈́̓͑̍̒̈̏ͭͯ̕͘͘͜ Ģ̢̙̼̩̮̪̤̮͚̭͖͖̥͍͈̳̲̠͒̉̂ͥ̔ͨ́ͧ́ͬͤ́ͩ̍ͫ̃͌ͯͤ̕͟͢͝ī̷̡̢̨̧̦̩̩̙͕̦͖̞̠̘̬̰͕ͣͧ̑̾̚͢͠ͅ_̛̀̀̉́ͬ͝o̴̘̭͈̜͍͕͉̤̜̘͖͍̠̎͑́ͫ̍̎̔̏ͮ͂ͩ́͘͟l̸̴̵̵̛̫͎͍͔̜̘͉̭̭̳̻̮̖̉͐̆ͫ̇͑ͧ̿̄͑̍ͦ́̅̅ͯ̀̈ͫ̓̊̍̆̃ć̸̴̵̻̪̻̘̮͎̟̫͚͉̗̳̞̦̒ͪ̇̏̄̈́ͤ͗͘͢͝ͅaͮ̒c̡̡͉̮̟̤̭̻̥̩̗̭͔̺̎̀̀̊̃ͬ̀͆͋̆ͣ̐̄́͛͒̏ͩ̾͆̾ͯ̚͟͡ͅͅh͎̞͓̳̞͙̼̱͇͓͂ͨͧ̂ͩͣ̈́̈͗̿̓̆͂́̈́͗ͯ̆ͩ̕͝͞ͅͅ spoke.
"This-Ack ₩ⱤØ₦₲, you-ack, every-ack..." He sputtered as blue blood leaked from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. Tears tried to crawl from his pale yellow eyes, but he held them back. He could feel his skin turn to bark, lungs to heartwood, hair to leaves, and eyes to flowers.
Ceann dílis fell to the ground, gasping for air and too weak to stand. Japanese soldiers, carrying strange sticks, came seemingly from nowhere. Most Japanese soldiers rushed to break open the cages. Some stood over the dead general and the child soldier, who openly wept, paralyzed, and petrified.
"Sir, we have a child in desperate need of medical aid." A Japanese soldier spoke through a strange object.
The boy sobbed loudly.
—-----
"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Ginearálta de Luath, general of the Luath legion, whispered.
The humans had unleashed something, which wiped out the Grásta legion in seconds by filling the soldiers with metal stones. The stones were so fast, he couldn't stop them. They tore through the elves with ease and left marks on his skin. He used his magic to find the killers, but before he could retaliate, what could only be described as metal beasts launched fire blasts at him, exterminating most of his legion. Now, all he could do was run and hide. He climbed over the crumbling remains of his troll brothers and past the lesser fae, who chose to surrender. He was the only one alive to make it through the northern gate. The humans of this world can do magic. Somehow, in 200 years, they acquired arcane power. He didn't know how it happened, but what he did know was that Man was no longer prey. The humans of this world would bring perdition to Tír na Nog.
{A/N: Hey guys, I did not die and this series was not canceled. These last two college semesters kicked my ass and burnt the heck out of me. It took me a while, but here it is chapter 4. I want to post as many chapters as possible before the next college semester starts. If you have any feedback or questions, I will happily respond.}
Aquila Generalis pronounced (Ah-KWEE-lah jen-eh-RAH-lis)
Luath pronounced (LOO-ah)
Ginearálta de Luath pronounced (Jin-ah-RAWL-tah deh LOO-ah)
Grásta pronounced (GRAH-stah)
Ginearálta de Grásta pronounced (Jin-ah-RAWL-tah deh GRAH-stah)
Saighdiúir Giolcach pronounced (SAH-ee-joo-ir gee-ul-kahkh)
Ceann dílis pronounced (Kyann DEE-lish)
C̸̵̨̨̳͕̙̤̥̞͕͇̦͙̟̲ͭ̋͑ͥͮ̌ͬͬ́̃ͦ̾͆͢͡ē̸̸͇͇̣͓̣̖̲̘̋ͮ̓ͭ̀͑̏̓͗_̙̰͓̲̠̪̮͔̔̎͌ͪ͐̈́̆͘a̢͖̱̱̙̲̩̠̯͔̙̖͚ͤ̈́̇̋ͯͬ͆ͥ̆ͮń̴̡͍̘̠͍̩̺͖̟̲̉ͫ̀ͤͧ̆̈̅͆̂̐̒̋͊̒̋͟͢͟͞͞ͅn̸̛̘̫̯̘̝̱̬͉̝̲͈̿ͪ́́̽ͦ̈ͯ̄͒̈̅̍̚ d͖̣̬͈͚ḭ̛̘͚͕̱́́ͧͭ̓̐̍̽͞ͅl̚į̸̧̹̖͎̻͓ͮ̐̒ͮ̋̂̀ͯ̎̉͐ͦ̑ͦͩͤ͘͟͡s͇̿̃ d͉̬̂ͦ͗è̷̷̻͓̭͎̣̠̱̞̮̦ͤ̈́̓͑̍̒̈̏ͭͯ̕͘͘͜ Ģ̢̙̼̩̮̪̤̮͚̭͖͖̥͍͈̳̲̠͒̉̂ͥ̔ͨ́ͧ́ͬͤ́ͩ̍ͫ̃͌ͯͤ̕͟͢͝ī̷̡̢̨̧̦̩̩̙͕̦͖̞̠̘̬̰͕ͣͧ̑̾̚͢͠ͅ_̛̀̀̉́ͬ͝o̴̘̭͈̜͍͕͉̤̜̘͖͍̠̎͑́ͫ̍̎̔̏ͮ͂ͩ́͘͟l̸̴̵̵̛̫͎͍͔̜̘͉̭̭̳̻̮̖̉͐̆ͫ̇͑ͧ̿̄͑̍ͦ́̅̅ͯ̀̈ͫ̓̊̍̆̃ć̸̴̵̻̪̻̘̮͎̟̫͚͉̗̳̞̦̒ͪ̇̏̄̈́ͤ͗͘͢͝ͅaͮ̒c̡̡͉̮̟̤̭̻̥̩̗̭͔̺̎̀̀̊̃ͬ̀͆͋̆ͣ̐̄́͛͒̏ͩ̾͆̾ͯ̚͟͡ͅͅh͎̞͓̳̞͙̼̱͇͓͂ͨͧ̂ͩͣ̈́̈͗̿̓̆͂́̈́͗ͯ̆ͩ̕͝͞ͅͅ pronounced (Kyann DEE-lish deh gee-ul-kahkh)
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submitted by RevolutionaryGrade25 to HFY [link] [comments]
[Previous] <<First>> [Next]
June 1, 2030, Tokyo, Japan - 1:00 am JST- 2 and a half hours post-invasion
Aquila Generalis scoured the ruined metropolis. She held a torch in her upper left hand and a gargantuan gladius in her upper right. She had large nets filled with writhing Japanese civilians in her lower left and right appendages. The civilians screamed and squirmed like fish in netting. Some humans were cradling streaming infants and crying children. Others cradled their spouses, elderly parents, or anyone nearby. Most just panicked. A few rational humans used small knives or their teeth to sever the netting, much to the amusement of an onlooking dragon. Movement from an apartment complex caught the attention of a tremendous soldier. The soldier stuck his hand into the ruined apartment complex while the rest stopped and stared at him.
"What are you doing?" Asked another soldier. She raised an eyebrow and gave her fellow soldier a puzzled look.
The giant stretched his right arm, straining himself. He pressed his left arm against the building to maintain balance.
"Need some help?" The amused dragon sneered.
The giant hissed in excretion and annoyance. He stretched his fingers, a determined fervor taking over him. He pushed a desk over, revealing a cowering human. The giant grabbed the human by its legs and dragged the Man toward his eye.
"Got him." The soldier hissed.
Some of the giants began crowding around the building. Most gathered to steal their compatriot's meal, while a few scoured the facility for more humans. The soldier's single eye widened with glee. He licked his lips with anticipation; the sight of fresh meat entranced him in a state of euphoria. A small gust of wind blew towards him as he dragged the screaming human towards his eye. The giants opened their maws in anticipation, a toothy grin plastered on their faces. The human revealed a small device, and the gigantic glutton paid no mind. The monster feasted on many humans when he entered the metropolis. He had never seen such a colossal city nor so many humans packed into one place. This human would be one of his many victims. When the human was before the titan, he sprayed a mysterious substance into the titan's eye. The giant released the human and covered his single elephantine eye. He wailed in pain and stumbled backward, knocking his comrades over. The Mammoth of a Monster cried like a newborn infant while his comrades groaned in pain.
Aquila Generalis glowered at her pathetic legion while the dragon erupted in laughter. Others stopped searching the building to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing their fellow giant reduced to a weeping wimp, they laughed.
"I'm blind. I'm Blind! I'M BLII-I-I-IND!" The giant wailed.
"I CAN'T SEE. I. CAN'T. SEE-EE!!!" he whipped his eye furiously, Wailing all the while.
Aquila Generalis put the nets down. She marched toward the foolish giant, pulled him to his feet, and glared at her soldiers. They quickly stopped laughing. The dragon, on the other hand, was hooting and hollering.
"I'M bLiNd. I cAn'T sEe. Oh, HeLp MeE!" the dragon jeered.
The general ignored him for the sake of her health. She shook the crying Cyclops, then slapped him.
"What is wrong with you, soldier?"
The cyclops sobbed quietly. "The h-human sp-sprayed me with s-something." He said between sniffles.
The general clutched the bridge of her nose. I do not have time for this. As the general berated the legionnaire, Strange beasts dotted the night sky.
—-----
Japan Air and Space Self-Defense Force (JASSDF)
"I have a visual on the targets. Be advised targets have hostages. Do not fire unless you have a clear shot."
—-----
The dragon looked up while the commander chastised her soldier. Upon laying eyes on the strange flying contraptions, the dragon narrowed his eyes.
"Aquila"
"Aquila!"
"Not now, dragon!" The general continued berating the Cyclops.
"Look up, stupid giant."
"Not now, you serpentine-"
The dragon was blown to pieces. His scales, limbs, teeth, and other body parts were scattered on the roof he once stood on. Chaos ensued as the squadron of Mitsubishi F-2 fighters lit up the sky. Before General Aquila could react, A missile hit her head, detonating. Brain matter and skull fragments decorated the buildings, creating a collage of carnage. Most of the legion tried to bring out their slings, only for their bones and organs to paint the metropolis. The few remaining legionnaires fled, leaving their human hostages. Dragons from nearby, alerted by the explosions, came to investigate. A barrage of missiles shot down the dragons that flew toward the squadron. Blood, bone, and flesh rained down on the streets of northern Tokyo.
—-----
“Clear. Send evac for civvies.”
***
June 1, 2030, Tokyo, Japan - 2:00 am JST- 3 and a half hours post-invasion
North Gate- a park in northern Tokyo
The invasion was successful. Thousands of humans fell before the trollish legion of Luath and the elven legion of Grásta; hundreds more huddled in cages, ready to be processed into food or slaves. The trolls fought in ritualistic combat for their human trophies. At the same time, the elves watched, knowing they would be given most of the quarry due to their inherent superiority. The lesser fae were presented their trophies early: the elderly, infirm, and those too young to be used. With nothing better to do, most of the lesser fae reentered the gate while a select few remained. Ginearálta de Grásta, General of the Grásta legion, speaks with one of his soldiers.
"This is quite the nest."
"Agreed, Sir. It is almost…." The soldier marveled at the large city, its towering structures piercing the heavens. "Impressive," the soldier sighed.
"Uncanny? Yes. Impressive? No. These are intelligent animals capable of fabricating wonders, but animals nonetheless. They mimic our customs, art, and concepts but lack the capacity to create true marvels. True marvels are the domain of those who wield the arcane, for it is the arcane that elevates us to the realm of sapience. Only those capable of wielding the arcane can be called sapient and only sapients can build something impressive. Everything Man creates is a caricature of our achievements; remember that."
"Of course, sir." the soldier said hesitantly.
"You are a fine soldier; what is your title?"
"Saighdiúir giolcach, sir." the soldier hastily replied.
"I've seen you around, and you show great potential. Your loyalty to Tír na Nog and the elven race cannot be ignored. Follow me."
Saighdiúir Giolcach, The soldier of reeds, obeyed his general's command. The soldier caught glimpses of the dueling trolls from the corner of his eyes as he passed by. Ginearálta de Grásta and Saighdiúir Giolcach passed by some trees and bushes until they reached a clearing full of human cages. Ginearálta de Grásta stepped directly in front of a cage and knelt to get a closer look at the captives. Saighdiúir Giolcach slowed down and stopped a few feet from his commander.
"Come closer, soldier."
The soldier hesitantly stepped closer and looked inside the cages. Humans were tightly packed inside, shoulder to shoulder, shaking and quietly sobbing. Their clothing was torn and filthy, and their faces were stained with dust and tears. They inched away from the general, squishing each other in the process. The site disgusted him, but he maintained his composure.
"Have you ever seen a human before?" the general asked inquisitively.
"No, sir. My father showed me pictures and told stories, but that's it. My family doesn't have enough money to own half-bloods, let alone pure humans." the soldier replied.
"Well, boy, today is your lucky day. Pick one." The general commanded.
Saighdiúir Giolcach gazed upon the mass of frightened humans. "Humans are master mimics; they cannot wield the arcane. They're just beasts," he repeated to himself as he stared into the cage in front of him.
He stared at a frightened Japanese woman, an adolescent just like him. They're supposed to be animals, but their eyes ... their eyes. Anguish, anxiety, grief, sadness, and so many emotions swirled within those expressive eyes. The outside commotion faded as the soldier drowned in her eyes. As his breathing and heart rate accelerated, he began questioning everything he learned about humanity and the definition of sapience. This isn't right; nothing is right. The soldier of reeds remembered his father's stories of glorious manhunts and successful raids. He remembered his mother's proverbs on magic and how it separated them from their pets and livestock. The elves are the superior race, far superior to humans. Humans are pets, livestock, slaves, and —NO! He took three steps back. He was wrong, his family was wrong, everyone was wrong. This is ₩ⱤØ₦₲. I won't condone this.
"C̸̵̨̨̳͕̙̤̥̞͕͇̦͙̟̲ͭ̋͑ͥͮ̌ͬͬ́̃ͦ̾͆͢͡ē̸̸͇͇̣͓̣̖̲̘̋ͮ̓ͭ̀͑̏̓͗_̙̰͓̲̠̪̮͔̔̎͌ͪ͐̈́̆͘a̢͖̱̱̙̲̩̠̯͔̙̖͚ͤ̈́̇̋ͯͬ͆ͥ̆ͮń̴̡͍̘̠͍̩̺͖̟̲̉ͫ̀ͤͧ̆̈̅͆̂̐̒̋͊̒̋͟͢͟͞͞ͅn̸̛̘̫̯̘̝̱̬͉̝̲͈̿ͪ́́̽ͦ̈ͯ̄͒̈̅̍̚ d͖̣̬͈͚ḭ̛̘͚͕̱́́ͧͭ̓̐̍̽͞ͅl̚į̸̧̹̖͎̻͓ͮ̐̒ͮ̋̂̀ͯ̎̉͐ͦ̑ͦͩͤ͘͟͡s͇̿̃ d͉̬̂ͦ͗è̷̷̻͓̭͎̣̠̱̞̮̦ͤ̈́̓͑̍̒̈̏ͭͯ̕͘͘͜ Ģ̢̙̼̩̮̪̤̮͚̭͖͖̥͍͈̳̲̠͒̉̂ͥ̔ͨ́ͧ́ͬͤ́ͩ̍ͫ̃͌ͯͤ̕͟͢͝ī̷̡̢̨̧̦̩̩̙͕̦͖̞̠̘̬̰͕ͣͧ̑̾̚͢͠ͅ_̛̀̀̉́ͬ͝o̴̘̭͈̜͍͕͉̤̜̘͖͍̠̎͑́ͫ̍̎̔̏ͮ͂ͩ́͘͟l̸̴̵̵̛̫͎͍͔̜̘͉̭̭̳̻̮̖̉͐̆ͫ̇͑ͧ̿̄͑̍ͦ́̅̅ͯ̀̈ͫ̓̊̍̆̃ć̸̴̵̻̪̻̘̮͎̟̫͚͉̗̳̞̦̒ͪ̇̏̄̈́ͤ͗͘͢͝ͅaͮ̒c̡̡͉̮̟̤̭̻̥̩̗̭͔̺̎̀̀̊̃ͬ̀͆͋̆ͣ̐̄́͛͒̏ͩ̾͆̾ͯ̚͟͡ͅͅh͎̞͓̳̞͙̼̱͇͓͂ͨͧ̂ͩͣ̈́̈͗̿̓̆͂́̈́͗ͯ̆ͩ̕͝͞ͅͅ, you faithless fool." The general growled. Arcane power filled his lungs.
The general stood up, turned around, and scowled at the boy. At the invocation of his true name, the soldier froze. The general's magic seeped into his body, causing a sharp, burning pain to envelop him.
Despite the agony, C̸̵̨̨̳͕̙̤̥̞͕͇̦͙̟̲ͭ̋͑ͥͮ̌ͬͬ́̃ͦ̾͆͢͡ē̸̸͇͇̣͓̣̖̲̘̋ͮ̓ͭ̀͑̏̓͗_̙̰͓̲̠̪̮͔̔̎͌ͪ͐̈́̆͘a̢͖̱̱̙̲̩̠̯͔̙̖͚ͤ̈́̇̋ͯͬ͆ͥ̆ͮń̴̡͍̘̠͍̩̺͖̟̲̉ͫ̀ͤͧ̆̈̅͆̂̐̒̋͊̒̋͟͢͟͞͞ͅn̸̛̘̫̯̘̝̱̬͉̝̲͈̿ͪ́́̽ͦ̈ͯ̄͒̈̅̍̚ d͖̣̬͈͚ḭ̛̘͚͕̱́́ͧͭ̓̐̍̽͞ͅl̚į̸̧̹̖͎̻͓ͮ̐̒ͮ̋̂̀ͯ̎̉͐ͦ̑ͦͩͤ͘͟͡s͇̿̃ d͉̬̂ͦ͗è̷̷̻͓̭͎̣̠̱̞̮̦ͤ̈́̓͑̍̒̈̏ͭͯ̕͘͘͜ Ģ̢̙̼̩̮̪̤̮͚̭͖͖̥͍͈̳̲̠͒̉̂ͥ̔ͨ́ͧ́ͬͤ́ͩ̍ͫ̃͌ͯͤ̕͟͢͝ī̷̡̢̨̧̦̩̩̙͕̦͖̞̠̘̬̰͕ͣͧ̑̾̚͢͠ͅ_̛̀̀̉́ͬ͝o̴̘̭͈̜͍͕͉̤̜̘͖͍̠̎͑́ͫ̍̎̔̏ͮ͂ͩ́͘͟l̸̴̵̵̛̫͎͍͔̜̘͉̭̭̳̻̮̖̉͐̆ͫ̇͑ͧ̿̄͑̍ͦ́̅̅ͯ̀̈ͫ̓̊̍̆̃ć̸̴̵̻̪̻̘̮͎̟̫͚͉̗̳̞̦̒ͪ̇̏̄̈́ͤ͗͘͢͝ͅaͮ̒c̡̡͉̮̟̤̭̻̥̩̗̭͔̺̎̀̀̊̃ͬ̀͆͋̆ͣ̐̄́͛͒̏ͩ̾͆̾ͯ̚͟͡ͅͅh͎̞͓̳̞͙̼̱͇͓͂ͨͧ̂ͩͣ̈́̈͗̿̓̆͂́̈́͗ͯ̆ͩ̕͝͞ͅͅ spoke.
"This-Ack ₩ⱤØ₦₲, you-ack, every-ack..." He sputtered as blue blood leaked from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. Tears tried to crawl from his pale yellow eyes, but he held them back. He could feel his skin turn to bark, lungs to heartwood, hair to leaves, and eyes to flowers.
"F̴̭̤̘̣̖̏̈͒̄ͫ̿͘͢a̢̰̳̦̺͓̥̗͉̦̻̖͇̯̹̺̓͆͗̀ͪ͌̈́ͧͯͧ͆̃̌̒̕͘͢͢͠͞͡i̛̩̙͕͌̉͂̇̃_̪̳̺͕̮͕̽͑t̸̶̿_̲͉͆h̶̷͚̣̠̥̪̳̲̝̳̱̟̫̯͍̝̩̱̱̦͎͇̳̯͇̱̜ͧ̃ͩ̐ͤ͆̏̈́̈ͪͪ͛ͧ͌̓̌͢͞f̷̘ͬ_̳̅ȕ̸̷̴̢̱͉̩̯̲̹̝̙͙̈ͣͨ̆͋͗̓͋̿͊̔͛̋̍̕͢ͅl̉̎͝͡ ǫ̧̺̲͍̯͖͙̥̦̦̮̇̑̈͆ͨ̈́̅̉̈ͯͥ́͌̃ͭ͘͜n̨̧̰̜̭̪͎ͥ̽ͪ̅̑ͦ͒͌̆ͮ̋͐͟͠e_̧̞͖͓̺͓̦̝̞̾͆̆͆̎̈ͬ̈́̑͗ͨ͟͠ͅ ǫ̷̴͎̙̥̝̝́̊ͫ̒͑͑ͨͥͨ̌̑͆̉͟͟f̲̗̜̤̪͉̪̮̘͙ͪͪͫͤ̄̂̌̐͑̽̉ͅ t̛̖̝̻͓̏͋̀̊̒͘͡͞h͔̜͕͖̼͋ͤ̇_̠̾e̡̳͉̟ͪ̍ͬ̊͡ r̷̨̛̛̘̦͓̭̙ͣ͑̍ͬ̈́̋̄ͮ̓ͦ͑͗͑̎̓͗͘͜͜ế̴̴̝̲̗͖̦̫̭͔͈̺̘̖̲̜̱͍͈̓͆͒̉̒ͫ̇̋̑ͧͮ̕͘͢͜͞͞͞ed̶̛̛̟̘̖̻̎̓ͯͨ̓͌̇͐̍̍͗̄̚̚͟ͅs̛͔̞̮̩̫̭̠̞̼̗̼ͮ̅̈̅ͯͧ̂̋̉̊̏͢͜,̨̡̠̰̰̇ͪ͊͂̏̈́ͮ̌̈ͪ̌̆̎͒͝ ẙ̵̷̡̡̛̛̬̺͈͎̭̟̲̻̲̥̩̗͉̔͋̑̏͐́ͥ͆̈̋ͪ͜͢͡ͅo̷̡̻̝̜̹̳͓͖̞ͯ̾͒̀́̇̍͂ͦ͘͘̚͟͢u̸̸̸̟͚̮͙͉̳̗̥̮̜̞͈͚͈̜̩̠̘̇̊ͥ͗ͣ̋̄͗̈́ͭ͆̾̈̃ͣ̔͆͑̑͐̽͟͢͝ ą̡̝̰͙̰̖͉͕̂ͨͬ̑͛́̂ͨ̋̏̾ͦ̑͠ŗ̴̠̭̦̺̖͍̘̖̦̗̞͕̦͉ͯ̂͐ͥͦ̀̒̀͊̄͌ͧ͊̄̾̍́̎̏ͩ̏ͮ͘̕͟ͅę̶̡̢͍̬͎̗̹̖̟̦͇̼̼͎͉̗̜̔̎́́̀ͪ͛ͪ͒̌͋͗̉̄̾͊̒̿̈ͪ̔͑̕̕͠͞ ń̵̢̨̧̹̲̮̮̝̣̩͙͚̠̥̻́̾ͤ́̀́̌̅̋͛̅̎ͩ̅̆͑ͧ͜͢͠͝͡_̡ͯ̎̎͑ͫ͛ơ̷̵̧̡͙͖͙̤͓͓̗̼͕͈̬̱̰̺̖ͣͩ͐͆͋̏̇́ͩ̈͐͗ͤ̾̎͗ͫ̑ͯͮ͂̉̃͘͜͠ f̟̞̥͇ͯ͛̄͆ͬ͒̊́á̯̬̄ͫ͝_̵̼̦̥͖͎͈̝̠̬̹̤̦̰̰͕͔̞̊̃͌ͦ̔̎̓̋ͯ̀ͫ͂͞͡ͅě̡̛̬̜̥̩͓͚̫̳̭̖͔̒̍͛ͨ̾̏̃̚͢͟͠.̵̡̟̲̗̤͙̺̌̍͐ͨ̌͂ͣ͂ͥ͋̑̾ͪ̈́̇ͣ͂͆̃͞"
BANG.
Ceann dílis fell to the ground, gasping for air and too weak to stand. Japanese soldiers, carrying strange sticks, came seemingly from nowhere. Most Japanese soldiers rushed to break open the cages. Some stood over the dead general and the child soldier, who openly wept, paralyzed, and petrified.
"Sir, we have a child in desperate need of medical aid." A Japanese soldier spoke through a strange object.
The boy sobbed loudly.
—-----
"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Ginearálta de Luath, general of the Luath legion, whispered.
The humans had unleashed something, which wiped out the Grásta legion in seconds by filling the soldiers with metal stones. The stones were so fast, he couldn't stop them. They tore through the elves with ease and left marks on his skin. He used his magic to find the killers, but before he could retaliate, what could only be described as metal beasts launched fire blasts at him, exterminating most of his legion. Now, all he could do was run and hide. He climbed over the crumbling remains of his troll brothers and past the lesser fae, who chose to surrender. He was the only one alive to make it through the northern gate. The humans of this world can do magic. Somehow, in 200 years, they acquired arcane power. He didn't know how it happened, but what he did know was that Man was no longer prey. The humans of this world would bring perdition to Tír na Nog.
{A/N: Hey guys, I did not die and this series was not canceled. These last two college semesters kicked my ass and burnt the heck out of me. It took me a while, but here it is chapter 4. I want to post as many chapters as possible before the next college semester starts. If you have any feedback or questions, I will happily respond.}
Aquila Generalis pronounced (Ah-KWEE-lah jen-eh-RAH-lis)
Luath pronounced (LOO-ah)
Ginearálta de Luath pronounced (Jin-ah-RAWL-tah deh LOO-ah)
Grásta pronounced (GRAH-stah)
Ginearálta de Grásta pronounced (Jin-ah-RAWL-tah deh GRAH-stah)
Saighdiúir Giolcach pronounced (SAH-ee-joo-ir gee-ul-kahkh)
Ceann dílis pronounced (Kyann DEE-lish)
C̸̵̨̨̳͕̙̤̥̞͕͇̦͙̟̲ͭ̋͑ͥͮ̌ͬͬ́̃ͦ̾͆͢͡ē̸̸͇͇̣͓̣̖̲̘̋ͮ̓ͭ̀͑̏̓͗_̙̰͓̲̠̪̮͔̔̎͌ͪ͐̈́̆͘a̢͖̱̱̙̲̩̠̯͔̙̖͚ͤ̈́̇̋ͯͬ͆ͥ̆ͮń̴̡͍̘̠͍̩̺͖̟̲̉ͫ̀ͤͧ̆̈̅͆̂̐̒̋͊̒̋͟͢͟͞͞ͅn̸̛̘̫̯̘̝̱̬͉̝̲͈̿ͪ́́̽ͦ̈ͯ̄͒̈̅̍̚ d͖̣̬͈͚ḭ̛̘͚͕̱́́ͧͭ̓̐̍̽͞ͅl̚į̸̧̹̖͎̻͓ͮ̐̒ͮ̋̂̀ͯ̎̉͐ͦ̑ͦͩͤ͘͟͡s͇̿̃ d͉̬̂ͦ͗è̷̷̻͓̭͎̣̠̱̞̮̦ͤ̈́̓͑̍̒̈̏ͭͯ̕͘͘͜ Ģ̢̙̼̩̮̪̤̮͚̭͖͖̥͍͈̳̲̠͒̉̂ͥ̔ͨ́ͧ́ͬͤ́ͩ̍ͫ̃͌ͯͤ̕͟͢͝ī̷̡̢̨̧̦̩̩̙͕̦͖̞̠̘̬̰͕ͣͧ̑̾̚͢͠ͅ_̛̀̀̉́ͬ͝o̴̘̭͈̜͍͕͉̤̜̘͖͍̠̎͑́ͫ̍̎̔̏ͮ͂ͩ́͘͟l̸̴̵̵̛̫͎͍͔̜̘͉̭̭̳̻̮̖̉͐̆ͫ̇͑ͧ̿̄͑̍ͦ́̅̅ͯ̀̈ͫ̓̊̍̆̃ć̸̴̵̻̪̻̘̮͎̟̫͚͉̗̳̞̦̒ͪ̇̏̄̈́ͤ͗͘͢͝ͅaͮ̒c̡̡͉̮̟̤̭̻̥̩̗̭͔̺̎̀̀̊̃ͬ̀͆͋̆ͣ̐̄́͛͒̏ͩ̾͆̾ͯ̚͟͡ͅͅh͎̞͓̳̞͙̼̱͇͓͂ͨͧ̂ͩͣ̈́̈͗̿̓̆͂́̈́͗ͯ̆ͩ̕͝͞ͅͅ pronounced (Kyann DEE-lish deh gee-ul-kahkh)
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2024.05.16 16:39 shesonearth I don't know what to do I tried the nice route.
So we live in a subdivision and we have a neighbor on one side and they were on the other side so the neighbors who moved in because we were here first and it's a brand new subdivision they are pretty cool they keep themselves they are kind of private just like us, the other neighbors beside us they from the start have been very adamant and in your face kind of neighbors
But that's not the issue the issue is how we ended up on meeting and what's been going on ever since
Usually my family we go ahead and we take my children myself and my husband to go knock or ring the doorbell and introduce ourselves and strike up friendly conversation etc, this is how we see it appropriate or just meeting everybody so we're not going back and forth then doing that whole thing we just want to get it out the way and have everybody meet everybody
So I'm working from home in my home and my husband is outside playing basketball with my children and the neighbors who are kind of in your face are home but the husband and the wife are home and the children the woman next door sends her children inside and then walks over to my husband and just loudly just waves him over and she's like always your wife home and he's like she's busy, and she just like oh I wanted to meet all y'all and all this other stuff and she just said that her children have been trying to meet my children and it was kind of odd because she sent them in before she came over to say hello to my husband and didn't bring her children to say hello to my children who are out there playing basketball with my husband also she didn't make it a point to go inside and get her husband who was also in the home to come outside so they can all collectively say hello which was kind of off-putting.
But nothing else was thought of it so it had been a while since any interaction, me and my children ended up bumping into her husband on our way to the mailbox and we had a conversation and said hello and a few things and my children met his children they started to play because they actually wanted to meet them just like she said and what not so we let them play for a little bit we only just talked for a moment and then I left went back home and then shortly later in the day the whole family comes and shows up to our home I guess he told her that we had a conversation and the children played so I guess she then wanted to come and meet me.
So they show up to the door they come at dinner time and we're just kind of in a rush and so we all say hello and this is when the red flag weird stuff starts to happen is after her husband is standing in front of her she's lightly kind of behind him so he can't really see what she's doing but she's just like back and forth staring down my husband like a piece of meat, giggling and trying to catch his gays repeatedly, and then looking back and forth at her husband trying to see if he's looking or not she didn't look at me one time while she was standing on my porch and then I made a comment and said that I had met one of her relatives when I was going on a bike ride and she said that she likes my hair and my outfit and she said oh okay and then she continued to glance back and forth at my husband and her husband and she had no interest in me and having any kind of conversation or real meeting of hello or anything.
So after that it left a bitter taste in my mouth because people like that they tend to have it all but they need more and they need like attention from the outside even though they have everything right in front of them they can't really see it. but anyway she struck me as this attention seeker and it turns out she actually is.
so her whole family came to the door, we were eating dinner, and they wanted to know if our children could come out and play and I said we just sat down to eat and you can tell that she was bothered by that and bothered by the fact that I answered the door because before she came up she was primping herself on the doorbell camera,
So I let her know that we would be coming out later after we're done so we go over and then I have her children come out and play with my children for a little bit.
We end up having a conversation while they were playing and at first she did seem kind of genuine but then she started to get over the top and just started saying I was so funny and she kept hitting me and trying to be buddy buddy and over and over again putting her hands on me laughing and it was very off putting and very fake feeling like she was trying to get bloody buddy with me somehow very quickly.
She referred to my husband as Daddy and it was kind of off-putting the way she had said it and then because I didn't like the way she said, what about daaaadyy is what she said when she asked about my husbands involvement in our day today which was kind of weird.
So I went ahead and when we were talking I said it back to her yeah your children probably need daddy too and I said exactly how she did and hopefully she got the head but nope and also she was asking me for advice about staying home and needing to be out just needing to be doing something because her husband was taken care of her too much and working but he wasn't even working a lot he work from home and in the office but he said she didn't have to and that he takes care of her but she doesn't want him to she wants to just be out there in the streets essentially doing something and being seen.
Her words not mine.
And she said she can't help it because she had her children she doesn't want to be just cooped up in the house everyday or something like that.
And so that was kind of off-putting and then I mentioned focusing on your family like being present with them and focusing solely on them reaps really good benefits because you create a closer Bond and you don't need outside anything to feel complete essentially what you have is inside of you and I just kind of reference that when she kept saying that she needs to just be on the go when she can't sit still and she said her husband always says that he's got her and that their mom needs them and things like that and I said I agree because I know how I am with my children and I have my children all the time and my family works really great because of the way our dynamic works and I tried to like give some knowledge and information to her but she kind of wasn't hearing it and didn't seem interested really in that dynamic.
So after that day she text me and wants me to go to the park with him but I'm in the shower and I never see her text message till I'm done and I have like this whole routine so it takes about an hour or so until she's just like in the park and I finally text her back the park is up the street and I text her back and she's just like kind of upset that I didn't show up and that's understandable but I did let her know like hey I was busy and I didn't see your text message can we try and do something else and so I let her know that we can have the boys hang out and we hang out tomorrow and then the next day me and my kids went for a walk and she was also on a walk with her child, we briefly passed each other cuz I'm coming out of my house and she's entering up the sidewalk to the driveway to her house she sees me and I just kind of stand there waiting so I can wave her and she just like looks through me and continues to walk
So I didn't think anything of I just kind of laughed to myself because it was kind of a petty cuz she clearly saw me but whatever but I texted her when I got back from the walk and said hey I saw you on our walk a few minutes ago I don't know if you saw me, but I just wanted to let you know that the boys are available at this x amount of time, she text me back later lets me know the time works out so the boys and I come out there later on that day at that time then this was before our dinner time so I tried to accompany and accommodate, my children are out there playing basketball and this woman literally at the exact time at her children are supposed to be out there text me and said one of her children were in trouble and can't come out there we'll catch you all next time
And I said thanks for the courtesy etc and so the next time we saw her was when my husband was cutting the grass I was inside doing some housework he was outside cutting the grass with my children running back and forth doing everything like they usually do and so during that time she makes her way outside and she's got this really short pink dress on and it's like really cold outside and it was just like really alarming to me and she's just like out there walking around sweeping her front porch and then like while my husband is cutting the side that's closest to their house she's like back to back with him and she just makes it a point to be like hey how you doing and just other stuff even though earlier in the day when we got home we both wave to them from the car and said hey and so it was kind of odd that she made another appearance to try and speak to my husband, he brought this to my attention and he said that he was very brief about it because he knows how things are between me and her and how we revives were between us and so he just briefly said Hi and then turn back around and kept cutting the grass and so I guess that wasn't enough attention for her
So after he was done cutting the grass I never took myself outside even though he said that she was out there and was trying to strike up a conversation, after that and he started to do the wrap up , but the hose away put the gutters back on and all that stuff blow the grass away.
And so basically I get a notification on my phone from the doorbell camera and the garage camera went off as well and I'm like okay someone has been spotted that's what it says and I look and I see this person standing there in a pink dress mini dress she's right there in front of my house sweeping the grass out of my driveway and sweep in the grass almost basically to the other side of the neighbor's house she's directly in front of my house sweeping my grass up going back and forth essentially waiting for my husband to come out there and I don't know what have an interaction talk I don't know look at me I'm cleaning up your grass I have no idea
And so I let my husband know like I see this happening right now on the camera and then he's just like I'm about to go cook dinner he goes to go cook dinner and I let him know I'm going to handle the cleanup and then I go out there with the broom and I walk out there I don't say anything to her and I just started sweeping and then she looks shocked to see me cuz I don't even think she knew I was home because the car wasn't in the driveway and then she just walks past and she's just wiping her nose and has her head down and she just walks back up to her driveway, her husband was cutting the grass on the other side of the house by the way her children were running around but she was in front of my house and in my driveway back and forth sweeping my grass instead of over there helping her husband with his yard work she was in my driveway and the other side of my yard sweeping the grass
And then she just after she gets back to her side of the house she's just like hey how you doing? And I say good and then I keep sweeping and then like she got this like grin on her face and she's just like see that I'm like visibly like annoyed with her and so she just keeps it moving, and so after that I went to the house and got the leaf blower and just started blowing the grass out so I can get back in the house cuz I was just like I was just really irritable, I'm blowing the grass and then I hear her come up right behind me and say hey hey where did you get that leaf blower at and I turned around and I said I don't know it's old and then I continue to blow the grass away and I guess she took the hat because I was pretty Stern with it and I think she came back to say something to me to see if I was in a good mood or to see if I was still like angry essentially because she got caught doing what she was doing
I didn't sugar coat when I spoke to her and I'm thinking okay she got the hint. And then a few days later she tried to make a playdate and then I said my children are unavailable at that time then, we were going to a nearby Creek and taking my children they wanted to go and we ate before we left we were going to leave around like 4:30 and so we didn't leave at 4:30 we ate and then we were going to leave now as we are eating I get a notification on the doorbell camera and the garage camera yet again and it says person has been spotted I checked the camera and she's out there walking back and forth back and forth back and forth with her children trying to see if we're going to come out trying to see if she can wave at us in miraculous and any kind of way I don't know but she's in front of our house her house on the complete other side and she's just back and forth walking with them
And we ended up leaving a close to 5:00 p.m. so by that time she already went in the house
And after that I just was done with any kind of interactions with her because she is very off putting and she gives off this vibe and energy of I am being fake. And I have an ulterior motive and I need to Garner attention from Men even though I have one.
Even the guy next to us was outside cleaning his car and then her husband was in the house yet again and after he went inside I guess he was like busy , So she took it upon herself to scream across the yard and say ooh that looks good. Referring to his car and so he comes over and then starts talking to her across from our yard and and her yard and she starts complimenting his car ridiculously and was just asking a bunch of stuff about his car and his pain and and what he does and how does he get it to look like that and just a bunch of stuff and what crossed my mind was the whole married women complimenting another man's car perfusively was kind of off-putting.
And so they carried conversation for a while and then to the point that he ended up getting his phone and trying to show her something about his paint job and then he actually paused before he actually had her come over and like look at the phone and she goes oh you can send it to me and I don't know if they have each other's numbers or whatever but I heard her say that and then he actually paused and said I sent it to your husband actually and then she was just like oh okay and then she stopped the conversation and went in the house
Just yesterday because we haven't had a moment to cut the grass in a while my husband cut the grass after he got off of work so me and the children were outside and we were all doing yard work like we usually do I was trimming and the boys were trimming and picking things up in the yard and she pulls up. Usually she picks up her kids and then goes in the home closes the garage and we don't see her the rest of the day, but since we are all out here and my husband's got in the grass she made it a point to pull up leave the garage open open trunk and just bring her kids out and have them running around in the driveway which I knew was going to happen, because whenever my husband's out there she makes it a point to be out there but when I hop out she flies inside of her house
So I'm out there packing up my grass and I was done because my mom had called and so I'm on the phone with her and my husband is starting to cut the side of the grass closest to her house and so, I say on the phone and I'm just like talking on the phone while looking into her driveway and garage knowing that she's going to pop out at any second to try and get some kind of attention from my husband because she's been doing that, she actually came out when I was right there just waiting and then she briefly raised her hand and waved while my husband didn't see her so he's over pushing the mower back and forth back and forth and conveniently she's in the garage going from one side of the car to the next side of the car from one side of the car to the next side of the car she did this about eight times
And he never looked her way didn't give her any kind of attention so eventually she went ahead and close the garage cuz I guess she saw me actually noticing what she was doing so she closed the garage and went house so my husband stops or is finished cutting the grass on that side of the house so he pushes it to almost the back of the outside of the fence now they don't have a fence, so her kids ran out and were right there while my husband was cutting the grass I'm guessing she was all so back there as well to try and say hello to my husband from the back of the house because she knew I was in the front of the house
And he said he didn't actually see her he was just focused on cutting the grass but I'm sure she was back there since her children were running around back and forth back there as well.
So that was pretty long but that's what has been happening since she moved in here, I am not sure how to go about anything her children seem very kind her husband is very nice and not red flaggy at all she on the other hand has the need to go up to every single neighbor and talk up people but specifically because I live next door to her it's like a game to her because she finds every moment to speak to my husband I haven't even mentioned the other times that he was out there just like cleaning out the car and she just hopped out it would just stand there and try and get his attention and then he would not give her any attention I wouldn't even look her way, it's like she can hear when we're out there or here when he's out there doing something and she can find a way to speak to him and it's really off putting and I'm not really sure what to do I've been closing all of my curtains and blinds because when she first got here she was actually looking and standing straight across looking straight. Into my house for a lot of good 5 minutes while I was vacuuming and so I close all my stuff up.
I would love some recommendations on how to peacefully handle this situation I am not sure what is going on mentally in this woman's head or why she needs to Garner this attention and I just want to be kind about it because I actually tried again and wished her a happy mother's day but then this incident happened after that so I am just done with the situation I feel like, I don't have any desire to try and be friends with her or even just be neighborly.
I would love some feedback or advice on how to peacefully go about this, the only time we are really out there is to cut the grass and do yard work which is pretty rare so I guess we don't have to really see them.
All feedback is welcome, I am close to pushing 40 so I really don't have the mental energy to deal with this kind of situation anymore I'm feeling like it's beneath me and very childish to actually do any kind of intentional situation as far as ignoring and things like that or being unkind I don't want to get roped into drama and things like that and I just wish that woman healing to be honest.
But I would love some feedback on this scenario thank you.
submitted by shesonearth to neighborsfromhell [link] [comments]
But that's not the issue the issue is how we ended up on meeting and what's been going on ever since
Usually my family we go ahead and we take my children myself and my husband to go knock or ring the doorbell and introduce ourselves and strike up friendly conversation etc, this is how we see it appropriate or just meeting everybody so we're not going back and forth then doing that whole thing we just want to get it out the way and have everybody meet everybody
So I'm working from home in my home and my husband is outside playing basketball with my children and the neighbors who are kind of in your face are home but the husband and the wife are home and the children the woman next door sends her children inside and then walks over to my husband and just loudly just waves him over and she's like always your wife home and he's like she's busy, and she just like oh I wanted to meet all y'all and all this other stuff and she just said that her children have been trying to meet my children and it was kind of odd because she sent them in before she came over to say hello to my husband and didn't bring her children to say hello to my children who are out there playing basketball with my husband also she didn't make it a point to go inside and get her husband who was also in the home to come outside so they can all collectively say hello which was kind of off-putting.
But nothing else was thought of it so it had been a while since any interaction, me and my children ended up bumping into her husband on our way to the mailbox and we had a conversation and said hello and a few things and my children met his children they started to play because they actually wanted to meet them just like she said and what not so we let them play for a little bit we only just talked for a moment and then I left went back home and then shortly later in the day the whole family comes and shows up to our home I guess he told her that we had a conversation and the children played so I guess she then wanted to come and meet me.
So they show up to the door they come at dinner time and we're just kind of in a rush and so we all say hello and this is when the red flag weird stuff starts to happen is after her husband is standing in front of her she's lightly kind of behind him so he can't really see what she's doing but she's just like back and forth staring down my husband like a piece of meat, giggling and trying to catch his gays repeatedly, and then looking back and forth at her husband trying to see if he's looking or not she didn't look at me one time while she was standing on my porch and then I made a comment and said that I had met one of her relatives when I was going on a bike ride and she said that she likes my hair and my outfit and she said oh okay and then she continued to glance back and forth at my husband and her husband and she had no interest in me and having any kind of conversation or real meeting of hello or anything.
So after that it left a bitter taste in my mouth because people like that they tend to have it all but they need more and they need like attention from the outside even though they have everything right in front of them they can't really see it. but anyway she struck me as this attention seeker and it turns out she actually is.
so her whole family came to the door, we were eating dinner, and they wanted to know if our children could come out and play and I said we just sat down to eat and you can tell that she was bothered by that and bothered by the fact that I answered the door because before she came up she was primping herself on the doorbell camera,
So I let her know that we would be coming out later after we're done so we go over and then I have her children come out and play with my children for a little bit.
We end up having a conversation while they were playing and at first she did seem kind of genuine but then she started to get over the top and just started saying I was so funny and she kept hitting me and trying to be buddy buddy and over and over again putting her hands on me laughing and it was very off putting and very fake feeling like she was trying to get bloody buddy with me somehow very quickly.
She referred to my husband as Daddy and it was kind of off-putting the way she had said it and then because I didn't like the way she said, what about daaaadyy is what she said when she asked about my husbands involvement in our day today which was kind of weird.
So I went ahead and when we were talking I said it back to her yeah your children probably need daddy too and I said exactly how she did and hopefully she got the head but nope and also she was asking me for advice about staying home and needing to be out just needing to be doing something because her husband was taken care of her too much and working but he wasn't even working a lot he work from home and in the office but he said she didn't have to and that he takes care of her but she doesn't want him to she wants to just be out there in the streets essentially doing something and being seen.
Her words not mine.
And she said she can't help it because she had her children she doesn't want to be just cooped up in the house everyday or something like that.
And so that was kind of off-putting and then I mentioned focusing on your family like being present with them and focusing solely on them reaps really good benefits because you create a closer Bond and you don't need outside anything to feel complete essentially what you have is inside of you and I just kind of reference that when she kept saying that she needs to just be on the go when she can't sit still and she said her husband always says that he's got her and that their mom needs them and things like that and I said I agree because I know how I am with my children and I have my children all the time and my family works really great because of the way our dynamic works and I tried to like give some knowledge and information to her but she kind of wasn't hearing it and didn't seem interested really in that dynamic.
So after that day she text me and wants me to go to the park with him but I'm in the shower and I never see her text message till I'm done and I have like this whole routine so it takes about an hour or so until she's just like in the park and I finally text her back the park is up the street and I text her back and she's just like kind of upset that I didn't show up and that's understandable but I did let her know like hey I was busy and I didn't see your text message can we try and do something else and so I let her know that we can have the boys hang out and we hang out tomorrow and then the next day me and my kids went for a walk and she was also on a walk with her child, we briefly passed each other cuz I'm coming out of my house and she's entering up the sidewalk to the driveway to her house she sees me and I just kind of stand there waiting so I can wave her and she just like looks through me and continues to walk
So I didn't think anything of I just kind of laughed to myself because it was kind of a petty cuz she clearly saw me but whatever but I texted her when I got back from the walk and said hey I saw you on our walk a few minutes ago I don't know if you saw me, but I just wanted to let you know that the boys are available at this x amount of time, she text me back later lets me know the time works out so the boys and I come out there later on that day at that time then this was before our dinner time so I tried to accompany and accommodate, my children are out there playing basketball and this woman literally at the exact time at her children are supposed to be out there text me and said one of her children were in trouble and can't come out there we'll catch you all next time
And I said thanks for the courtesy etc and so the next time we saw her was when my husband was cutting the grass I was inside doing some housework he was outside cutting the grass with my children running back and forth doing everything like they usually do and so during that time she makes her way outside and she's got this really short pink dress on and it's like really cold outside and it was just like really alarming to me and she's just like out there walking around sweeping her front porch and then like while my husband is cutting the side that's closest to their house she's like back to back with him and she just makes it a point to be like hey how you doing and just other stuff even though earlier in the day when we got home we both wave to them from the car and said hey and so it was kind of odd that she made another appearance to try and speak to my husband, he brought this to my attention and he said that he was very brief about it because he knows how things are between me and her and how we revives were between us and so he just briefly said Hi and then turn back around and kept cutting the grass and so I guess that wasn't enough attention for her
So after he was done cutting the grass I never took myself outside even though he said that she was out there and was trying to strike up a conversation, after that and he started to do the wrap up , but the hose away put the gutters back on and all that stuff blow the grass away.
And so basically I get a notification on my phone from the doorbell camera and the garage camera went off as well and I'm like okay someone has been spotted that's what it says and I look and I see this person standing there in a pink dress mini dress she's right there in front of my house sweeping the grass out of my driveway and sweep in the grass almost basically to the other side of the neighbor's house she's directly in front of my house sweeping my grass up going back and forth essentially waiting for my husband to come out there and I don't know what have an interaction talk I don't know look at me I'm cleaning up your grass I have no idea
And so I let my husband know like I see this happening right now on the camera and then he's just like I'm about to go cook dinner he goes to go cook dinner and I let him know I'm going to handle the cleanup and then I go out there with the broom and I walk out there I don't say anything to her and I just started sweeping and then she looks shocked to see me cuz I don't even think she knew I was home because the car wasn't in the driveway and then she just walks past and she's just wiping her nose and has her head down and she just walks back up to her driveway, her husband was cutting the grass on the other side of the house by the way her children were running around but she was in front of my house and in my driveway back and forth sweeping my grass instead of over there helping her husband with his yard work she was in my driveway and the other side of my yard sweeping the grass
And then she just after she gets back to her side of the house she's just like hey how you doing? And I say good and then I keep sweeping and then like she got this like grin on her face and she's just like see that I'm like visibly like annoyed with her and so she just keeps it moving, and so after that I went to the house and got the leaf blower and just started blowing the grass out so I can get back in the house cuz I was just like I was just really irritable, I'm blowing the grass and then I hear her come up right behind me and say hey hey where did you get that leaf blower at and I turned around and I said I don't know it's old and then I continue to blow the grass away and I guess she took the hat because I was pretty Stern with it and I think she came back to say something to me to see if I was in a good mood or to see if I was still like angry essentially because she got caught doing what she was doing
I didn't sugar coat when I spoke to her and I'm thinking okay she got the hint. And then a few days later she tried to make a playdate and then I said my children are unavailable at that time then, we were going to a nearby Creek and taking my children they wanted to go and we ate before we left we were going to leave around like 4:30 and so we didn't leave at 4:30 we ate and then we were going to leave now as we are eating I get a notification on the doorbell camera and the garage camera yet again and it says person has been spotted I checked the camera and she's out there walking back and forth back and forth back and forth with her children trying to see if we're going to come out trying to see if she can wave at us in miraculous and any kind of way I don't know but she's in front of our house her house on the complete other side and she's just back and forth walking with them
And we ended up leaving a close to 5:00 p.m. so by that time she already went in the house
And after that I just was done with any kind of interactions with her because she is very off putting and she gives off this vibe and energy of I am being fake. And I have an ulterior motive and I need to Garner attention from Men even though I have one.
Even the guy next to us was outside cleaning his car and then her husband was in the house yet again and after he went inside I guess he was like busy , So she took it upon herself to scream across the yard and say ooh that looks good. Referring to his car and so he comes over and then starts talking to her across from our yard and and her yard and she starts complimenting his car ridiculously and was just asking a bunch of stuff about his car and his pain and and what he does and how does he get it to look like that and just a bunch of stuff and what crossed my mind was the whole married women complimenting another man's car perfusively was kind of off-putting.
And so they carried conversation for a while and then to the point that he ended up getting his phone and trying to show her something about his paint job and then he actually paused before he actually had her come over and like look at the phone and she goes oh you can send it to me and I don't know if they have each other's numbers or whatever but I heard her say that and then he actually paused and said I sent it to your husband actually and then she was just like oh okay and then she stopped the conversation and went in the house
Just yesterday because we haven't had a moment to cut the grass in a while my husband cut the grass after he got off of work so me and the children were outside and we were all doing yard work like we usually do I was trimming and the boys were trimming and picking things up in the yard and she pulls up. Usually she picks up her kids and then goes in the home closes the garage and we don't see her the rest of the day, but since we are all out here and my husband's got in the grass she made it a point to pull up leave the garage open open trunk and just bring her kids out and have them running around in the driveway which I knew was going to happen, because whenever my husband's out there she makes it a point to be out there but when I hop out she flies inside of her house
So I'm out there packing up my grass and I was done because my mom had called and so I'm on the phone with her and my husband is starting to cut the side of the grass closest to her house and so, I say on the phone and I'm just like talking on the phone while looking into her driveway and garage knowing that she's going to pop out at any second to try and get some kind of attention from my husband because she's been doing that, she actually came out when I was right there just waiting and then she briefly raised her hand and waved while my husband didn't see her so he's over pushing the mower back and forth back and forth and conveniently she's in the garage going from one side of the car to the next side of the car from one side of the car to the next side of the car she did this about eight times
And he never looked her way didn't give her any kind of attention so eventually she went ahead and close the garage cuz I guess she saw me actually noticing what she was doing so she closed the garage and went house so my husband stops or is finished cutting the grass on that side of the house so he pushes it to almost the back of the outside of the fence now they don't have a fence, so her kids ran out and were right there while my husband was cutting the grass I'm guessing she was all so back there as well to try and say hello to my husband from the back of the house because she knew I was in the front of the house
And he said he didn't actually see her he was just focused on cutting the grass but I'm sure she was back there since her children were running around back and forth back there as well.
So that was pretty long but that's what has been happening since she moved in here, I am not sure how to go about anything her children seem very kind her husband is very nice and not red flaggy at all she on the other hand has the need to go up to every single neighbor and talk up people but specifically because I live next door to her it's like a game to her because she finds every moment to speak to my husband I haven't even mentioned the other times that he was out there just like cleaning out the car and she just hopped out it would just stand there and try and get his attention and then he would not give her any attention I wouldn't even look her way, it's like she can hear when we're out there or here when he's out there doing something and she can find a way to speak to him and it's really off putting and I'm not really sure what to do I've been closing all of my curtains and blinds because when she first got here she was actually looking and standing straight across looking straight. Into my house for a lot of good 5 minutes while I was vacuuming and so I close all my stuff up.
I would love some recommendations on how to peacefully handle this situation I am not sure what is going on mentally in this woman's head or why she needs to Garner this attention and I just want to be kind about it because I actually tried again and wished her a happy mother's day but then this incident happened after that so I am just done with the situation I feel like, I don't have any desire to try and be friends with her or even just be neighborly.
I would love some feedback or advice on how to peacefully go about this, the only time we are really out there is to cut the grass and do yard work which is pretty rare so I guess we don't have to really see them.
All feedback is welcome, I am close to pushing 40 so I really don't have the mental energy to deal with this kind of situation anymore I'm feeling like it's beneath me and very childish to actually do any kind of intentional situation as far as ignoring and things like that or being unkind I don't want to get roped into drama and things like that and I just wish that woman healing to be honest.
But I would love some feedback on this scenario thank you.
2024.05.16 16:30 Blackwidow_Perk Toxic AF Communities
 | This is a rant for myself but I find it funny how when I went to snark on GRB, other people decided to tell me my childhood abuse and cancer was “nothing”, didn’t fucking realize I joined the pain Olympics and was competing. submitted by Blackwidow_Perk to GRBsnark [link] [comments] My point being, I was tortured, “homeschooled” (by that no education at all) SA’d, got cancer and still moved out instead of murdering my parents |
2024.05.16 16:26 ChannelAb3 How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III
How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III
I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.
2024.05.16 16:23 ChannelAb3 How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III
How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III
I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.
2024.05.16 16:21 ChannelAb3 How I Wonder What You Are
How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III
I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.
2024.05.16 16:12 CIAHerpes I remember the night I died and saw the Bardo.
There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.
submitted by CIAHerpes to nosleep [link] [comments]
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.
2024.05.16 15:36 techstar2000 [Amazon] Kitchen in the box Food Processors,Small Meat Grinder & Food Chopper Electric Vegetable Chopper with 2 Bowls (8 Cup+8 Cup)& 2 Bi-Level Blades for Meat/fish/Vegetable/Baby Food，400 W (Black) with 50% off, for $29.95
![[Amazon] Kitchen in the box Food Processors,Small Meat Grinder & Food Chopper Electric Vegetable Chopper with 2 Bowls (8 Cup+8 Cup)& 2 Bi-Level Blades for Meat/fish/Vegetable/Baby Food，400 W (Black) with 50% off, for $29.95](https://external-preview.redd.it/0bdYCJSG0Ug0SqcU-oSEfJvhYBe0HNz2U70upnALDE0.jpg?width=108&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=9e61e1aebfd4f8e0c26a5e823acd9e3d30a32260 "[Amazon] Kitchen in the box Food Processors,Small Meat Grinder & Food Chopper Electric Vegetable Chopper with 2 Bowls (8 Cup+8 Cup)& 2 Bi-Level Blades for Meat/fish/Vegetable/Baby Food，400 W (Black) with 50% off, for $29.95") | submitted by techstar2000 to AllElectronicsDeals [link] [comments] |
2024.05.16 15:27 Quirkyasfok Falling Asleep Standing Up and Shocking Awakenings
Hello!!
So, a few months ago I started having issues of falling asleep while doing things. Like, one incident I was trying to cook and cutting with a knife. I get in these episodes where I just keep nodding off, and sure enough one second I'm mid cut and the next I'm jerking back awake with the knife handle slipping from my grasp.
Another episode I actually hit the ground. I was trying to organize my pills for the next day. I was standing up with my pill bag on my bed. I was determined to finish as it's hard to move in the morning (I'll explain in a second). I kept begging myself to stay awake and finish, but I kept having to redo my pills because I kept messing up. For the most part I startle awake right as I begin to fall. Other times I'd startle awake as I hit the bed, one time I slammed headfirst into my pill bag. And then it happened. After months of always startling awake I finally slammed into the ground. The good news is, though it hurt, I fell on my butt. The bad news is I have a spinal cord stimulator and was terrified I messed it up as it's in my right butt cheek (it was supppose to go in my back but thebsurgeon said I had more meat down there 😅🤣). The scary news is one more inch back and I would have slammed into my shelves, which would have very likely knocked my max melter over and poured hot wax on myself.
Lastly, when I startle awake it always hurts. Like, it could be spasms, but I have condition where my hands shock me (espically when I'm tired and it feels like one of those joke shocking pins) and my sleep shocks feel very siniliar but full body. I'm honestly not sure and I wonder if anyone can clear that up a bit.
Oh, and I also shake my head a lot involuntary, or I feel it is. My vision will start to blur and then blacks and I'm shaking my head rapidly side to side. Or I'll start to feel the sleepy sensation beginning to come over me, and then I'm shaking my head.
So a few things to note about me:
P.s. I am actively trying to fix my sleep schedule. My eye doctor said to think of it like an addiction. I've been this way for years, so it will take time to fix it. Also, to be easy on my self. Mistakes will happen. There's always another night.
Thank you!!
submitted by Quirkyasfok to insomnia [link] [comments]
So, a few months ago I started having issues of falling asleep while doing things. Like, one incident I was trying to cook and cutting with a knife. I get in these episodes where I just keep nodding off, and sure enough one second I'm mid cut and the next I'm jerking back awake with the knife handle slipping from my grasp.
Another episode I actually hit the ground. I was trying to organize my pills for the next day. I was standing up with my pill bag on my bed. I was determined to finish as it's hard to move in the morning (I'll explain in a second). I kept begging myself to stay awake and finish, but I kept having to redo my pills because I kept messing up. For the most part I startle awake right as I begin to fall. Other times I'd startle awake as I hit the bed, one time I slammed headfirst into my pill bag. And then it happened. After months of always startling awake I finally slammed into the ground. The good news is, though it hurt, I fell on my butt. The bad news is I have a spinal cord stimulator and was terrified I messed it up as it's in my right butt cheek (it was supppose to go in my back but thebsurgeon said I had more meat down there 😅🤣). The scary news is one more inch back and I would have slammed into my shelves, which would have very likely knocked my max melter over and poured hot wax on myself.
Lastly, when I startle awake it always hurts. Like, it could be spasms, but I have condition where my hands shock me (espically when I'm tired and it feels like one of those joke shocking pins) and my sleep shocks feel very siniliar but full body. I'm honestly not sure and I wonder if anyone can clear that up a bit.
Oh, and I also shake my head a lot involuntary, or I feel it is. My vision will start to blur and then blacks and I'm shaking my head rapidly side to side. Or I'll start to feel the sleepy sensation beginning to come over me, and then I'm shaking my head.
So a few things to note about me:
- I suffer from Severe Fibromyalgia . I say severe as that it's what one of my pain doctors said when after two years we got to their last treatment option. Four years of constantly seeing health professionals, and it just feels like I've only gotten worse. Fibromyalgia for those who don't know is a neurological condition where your brain is no longer interrupting certian signals right anymore. It's locked in fight flight mode and thinks the body is hurt. Fibromyalgia also affects the way a person sleeps, as we don't get as much deep sleep. I think the average person gets like two hours. We get five minutes... on a good day 😑. Deep sleep is where the brain heals.
- I do have untreated anxiety and have been diagnosed. We started treating it in hope it would help the Fibromyalgia as anxiety fuels fibro, but we tried a different type of med right after our first attempt had failed and I had a bad reaction so we're now trying to fix that
- I also do have diagnosed insomnia. We went to some sleep professionals about my falling asleep standing thing and they just told me I have insomnia and that they only treat sleep apnea.
- I've had a bad sleep schedule going on for like 17 years now. I explained it to my eye doctor as we were discussing my migraine issues and he brought up the studies about how if one person was not allowed food and the other person sleep the sleep person would die first. And how lack of sleep was a type of torture, and I am infact torturing myself 😅
P.s. I am actively trying to fix my sleep schedule. My eye doctor said to think of it like an addiction. I've been this way for years, so it will take time to fix it. Also, to be easy on my self. Mistakes will happen. There's always another night.
Thank you!!
2024.05.16 15:24 throwaway_acc1010 liquid food ideas that aren’t dairy or broth?
i had oral surgery a few days ago and am on a strict liquid diet for a few weeks. all i’ve been eating for the past few days is dairy foods (yoghurt, ice cream, weetabix, etc) and some chicken broth. i’m lactose intolerant so the dairy foods has just been causing a lot of nausea and stomach pain, and the broth isn’t filling at all. i’ve been so so hungry the past few days but i can’t find anything else i can eat. i’m south asian so im used to really spicy, meat-based dishes that are quite heavy and filling so not being able to eat anything spicy is just making me so miserable.
does anybody have any liquid food ideas that are a bit more fun and flavourful and that won’t give me a stomach ache? i just want a tiny bit of spice or tang in my food and to actually be full. the constant hunger combined with the pain of the surgery and the discomfort from the dairy is a beautiful mixture to be dealing with and i don’t know how im gonna cope with this for a month. if anyone could share any recipe ideas i’d be so so grateful
submitted by throwaway_acc1010 to Cooking [link] [comments]
does anybody have any liquid food ideas that are a bit more fun and flavourful and that won’t give me a stomach ache? i just want a tiny bit of spice or tang in my food and to actually be full. the constant hunger combined with the pain of the surgery and the discomfort from the dairy is a beautiful mixture to be dealing with and i don’t know how im gonna cope with this for a month. if anyone could share any recipe ideas i’d be so so grateful
2024.05.16 15:06 seasaluki shingles in ear - tips?
hey, I got diagnosed with in-ear shingles a couple of days ago after going to a doctor with eahead pain and feeling like one of my ears stuffed with cotton. The doc looked into my ear and saw shingles inside which are not visible on the outer ear. I got put on Heviran (aciclovirum) 400 mg 3 times a day and got prescribed rest. Obviously I also take ibuprofen sometimes because the pain can be unbearable.
I know it’s pretty early on, but do you have any tips on what I should be doing outside of general resting? Are any foods particularly good to be eating, or avoiding? The internet is has some conflicting information. Just fyi I’m a lifelong vegetarian, so no meat recs please.
Any tips would be welcome. It’s pretty scary because I’ve never experienced anything of the sort before and the diagnosis caught me by surprise. I’m 31/f if that matters at all.
Thanks in advance!
submitted by seasaluki to shingles [link] [comments]
I know it’s pretty early on, but do you have any tips on what I should be doing outside of general resting? Are any foods particularly good to be eating, or avoiding? The internet is has some conflicting information. Just fyi I’m a lifelong vegetarian, so no meat recs please.
Any tips would be welcome. It’s pretty scary because I’ve never experienced anything of the sort before and the diagnosis caught me by surprise. I’m 31/f if that matters at all.
Thanks in advance!
2024.05.16 15:04 Ok_Appearance_364 First flare
After years of overeating red meats, it finally got me... I have IBS-D also, and am lactose intolerant; didn't care before, just toughed it out and tore through things i loved to eat. Ahhh those were the days... On day 6 of my first flareup now, didnt go liquid at all, just started out on low-fiber diet; interestingly enough, tried mashed potatoes today and pain increased like a few hours after i ate it; i cooked the potatoes myself and everything, very soft; i guess starch is one of my triggers; i could literally hear and feel my digestive system moving and my colon kinda spasming. Gonna try rice tomorrow see how that goes. Egg in the morning seems to be ok. The pain is gradually, very very slowly getting better if i dont eat. I guess it is kinda like a scrape on the inside of your colon, you need to not touch it for it to heal, but everytime u eat, u kinda scratch it again a little. Also, I had a question, DV starts when something lodges inside one of your "pouches" and gets infected, so how does that something get out?
submitted by Ok_Appearance_364 to Diverticulitis [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 14:41 Arbrand The Trickster's Veil
As far back as I can remember, I had always been passionate about the great outdoors. My love for the wilderness began when I joined the scouts, exploring the diverse landscapes of Southern California, Nevada, Arizona, and Utah. I was never a huge fan of the dry, barren landscapes, but camping provided a much-needed escape from the monotony of Orange County suburbia.
The first time I visited the Pacific Northwest, I was enchanted. The scenery was breathtaking—majestic mountains, lush fields, and meandering rivers. It was clear that anyone who praised the desert's beauty had never laid eyes on the Cascades. Seeing grass and wildflowers growing without irrigation was practically a revelation.
When I was old enough, I moved to Washington state, immersing myself in nature every weekend. My adventures took me hiking through dense forests, camping by serene lakes, and occasionally taking mushrooms under peaceful waterfalls.
I joined several online forums dedicated to outdoor enthusiasts. One community that particularly fascinated me was the Northwest Tomb Raiders. This group of history buffs and thrill-seekers was dedicated to uncovering artifacts, whether Native American relics or treasures hidden in modern ruins. Many members were collectors, fencing their finds to museums and archaeologists, which made it a rather profitable side gig, should you be lucky enough.
In the fall of 2009, an intriguing post appeared on the forum. A user named Lokk claimed to have discovered a cache of artifacts with Scandinavian origins. He couldn't carry everything back due to the treacherous terrain and his age, so he shared the coordinates, hoping someone else could retrieve the items. I scrolled down to see a few posts of people planning to loot it in the Spring, when the paths have reopened. One user, Patagooner, planned on going as early as possible.
Excited by the prospect, I gathered my two friends, Carl and Noah, for the expedition. They weren't as enthusiastic about camping as I was, but after I told them how much a single arrowhead goes for on the black market, they were on board. It was the start of winter now, which had its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, the rangers would have a harder time spotting us. On the downside, the harsh conditions posed a serious challenge for two inexperienced hikers.
I must’ve blown about four grand at REI on gear for them, justifying it with the knowledge of how much more I would make with two extra packs. That is of course assuming there really were as many artifacts as Lokk had said, and Patagooner hadn’t beaten me there.
The journey began like any other. We met in the pre-dawn darkness and went over our supplies, ensuring we had everything we needed. By mid-morning, we were on our way, my pickup truck winding up the mountain paths. The roads of Olympic National Park were the epitome of the raw, untamed beauty of the Pacific Northwest.
They snake through ancient forests, where towering Douglas firs and Western hemlocks create a verdant canopy overhead. Mist clings to the trees, giving the landscape an ethereal quality. Occasionally, the forest would open up to reveal breathtaking vistas of snow-capped peaks and deep, shadowy valleys.
As we climbed higher, the landscape grew increasingly desolate. The dense forest thinned out, replaced by rugged terrain and jagged rock formations. The air grew colder, and the first flurries of snow began to fall, dusting the ground in a thin, white layer. The road became narrower and more treacherous, winding precariously along the edge of steep cliffs.
Finally, a road closure blockade signaled the end of our journey in the truck. We unloaded three dirt bikes—one mine, two rentals—and continued up the trail. The bikes roared to life, carrying us several more miles into the wilderness. The trail twisted and turned, cutting through dense underbrush and over fallen logs. The snow began to fall more heavily, blanketing the forest floor and muffling the sound of our engines. The world around us grew quieter, more isolated.
Eventually, the snow became too deep to traverse by bike. We dismounted and prepared to continue on foot. The silence of the forest was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches in the wind. I checked my modern GPS, its screen displaying the coordinates and a relief map of our destination.
The cold air bit into our cheeks as we trudged through the snow-laden forest. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the crunch of our footsteps and the occasional call of distant wildlife. The GPS indicated we were close to our destination, but the dense underbrush and uneven terrain made progress slow.
Suddenly, Carl's excited whisper cut through the stillness. "Hey, look at that!"
He pointed to a small, furry creature ambling through the trees. It took a moment to realize what it was—a bear cub, innocently exploring its surroundings.
My heart sank. "Carl, get back," I hissed, my voice low but urgent. "Where there's a cub, there's a..."
Before I could finish, a massive shape exploded from the trees. The mother bear, easily three times the size of the cub, charged at Carl with a ferocity. She was a blur of dark fur and powerful muscles, her roar echoing through the forest.
"Run!" I yelled, but it was too late. The bear was upon Carl, swiping at him with her massive paws. He screamed as he fell to the ground, the bear towering over him. Desperation and adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest heavy branch and swung it at the bear, hoping to distract her.
Noah joined in, shouting and waving his arms. We had to be careful; one wrong move and she would turn on us. The bear snarled, turning her attention away from Carl for just a moment. It was enough for him to scramble backwards, clutching his bleeding arm.
"We have to get him out of here," I shouted to Noah, who nodded, fear etched on his face. The bear, still enraged, seemed torn between attacking us and protecting her cub.
Using the brief respite, we hauled Carl to his feet. His face was white, and he was clearly in shock. Blood soaked his sleeve, dripping onto the snow. "There's a ranger station about two miles from here," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to get him there. Now."
We half-carried, half-dragged Carl through the forest, every shadow and sound heightening our paranoia.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the small, wooden structure of the ranger station came into view. We had been avoiding the rangers to keep our expedition secret, but now it was our only hope.
Pounding on the door, I prayed for a quick response. The door creaked open, and a weathered face appeared. "What happened?" the ranger demanded, taking in the sight of Carl's bloodied form.
"Bear attack," I gasped. "We need help."
The ranger's expression shifted from suspicion to urgency. "Get him inside. We've got a first aid kit and a radio."
As we eased Carl onto a makeshift bed, the ranger inspected his wounds. "You're lucky," he said after a moment. "The cuts are deep, but they missed any major arteries. He'll need stitches, but we can handle that here. No need for an airlift."
The ranger's face darkened as he turned to me. "What the hell are you boys doing out here?”
I hesitated, "We... we were just exploring."
The ranger's eyes narrowed, his anger palpable. "Exploring? In a restricted area? In the middle of winter? Are you out of your minds?"
He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and stitching Carl's wounds. Carl winced but stayed silent, his eyes closed in pain.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?" the ranger continued, his voice rising. "The storm, the wildlife... This area is off-limits for a reason! You should have known better." he said, pushing a finger into my chest.
"We'll stay here for the night," he continued, "The storm's getting worse, and it's too dangerous to move him now. We'll reassess in the morning. And count yourself lucky I don't arrest your asses."
Night fell quickly, the storm outside growing more ferocious with each passing minute. The howling wind battered the small ranger station, and the walls creaked under the pressure. We huddled in the main room, the tension thick in the air.
The ranger looked at us sternly. "I need to check the perimeter and make sure everything is secure. There are things out there you don’t want to encounter, especially in this storm."
"Things? What do you mean?" Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ranger's expression hardened. "Just stay put. No matter what you see or hear, do not leave this cabin. Understood?"
We nodded, the seriousness in his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll stay put," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The ranger grabbed his coat and shotgun. "I'll be back in an hour. Do not leave this cabin." With that, he opened the door and stepped into the raging storm, disappearing into the darkness.
As soon as the door closed, I turned to Noah. "We need to go. Now."
Noah's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? He said to stay put."
"If we wait until morning, we'll be escorted out of here and lose our chance. This might be our only opportunity to find those artifacts."
Noah hesitated with uncertainty "But... what about Carl?"
"He'll be fine here. The ranger can take care of him. We have to do this now."
Reluctantly, Noah nodded. "Alright. Let's take what we can and go."
We quickly looted extra gear from the cabin. I checked the GPS one last time before we slipped out into the storm, the cold wind battering us.
The snow fell heavily, obscuring our vision as we slogged through the forest. The ranger was nowhere in sight as we made our way towards the our destination, each step filled with trepidatious excitement.
The storm began to die down as we approached the coordinates. We stepped into a clearing where the undisturbed snow lay like a pristine white blanket. In the center stood an ancient, weathered stone altar, encircled by intricate wooden carvings, delicate metalwork, and beautifully crafted statues. The sight was breathtaking, a treasure trove, a veritable museum of paganism.
Noah and I exchanged glances, our eyes wide with amazement. "Do you see this?" I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
"We're going to be rich," Noah replied, his voice trembling with awe. "These must be worth a fortune!"
We approached cautiously, as if the vision before us might disappear. The craftsmanship was stunning. I reached out to touch a carved wooden idol, marveling at the detail. "This is incredible," I said, my voice barely audible.
We began to load our packs with as many artifacts as we could carry, each one more exquisite than the last. It was beyond our wildest dreams. We were so engrossed in our task that we didn't notice the small figure watching us from the ridge.
It wasn't until I turned to leave that I saw her. A young girl, maybe eight years old, stood there, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. She was dressed in simple, rustic clothing, her blonde straight hair blowing gently in the wind. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Noah," I whispered urgently, nudging him. "Look."
He turned, his eyes following my gaze. "What the...?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
The girl took a tentative step forward, her eyes fixed on the items in our hands. There was no fear in her gaze, only a quiet intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She tilted her head slightly. "My name is Sigyn."
"What are you doing out here, Sigyn?" Noah asked, his voice shaky.
"I live here,"
"You live here?" I echoed, incredulous. "Is there anyone else around?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Where?" Noah demanded, looking around nervously.
"Everywhere," she said with a giggle.
The way she said it, so matter-of-factly, bothered me deeply. Noah and I exchanged a look, both of us trying to figure out what to do next.
"We can't take her back to the ranger," Noah started, "We'll lose everything."
I nodded, my mind racing. "Sigyn," I said slowly, "we need to know who else is here. Can you help us?"
She looked at me with her piercing blue eyes, then said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Noah asked.
"For what's going to happen to you," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
"You need to tell us what's going on," Noah said, grabbing her arm roughly. "Why are you out here alone?"
She looked up at him, unperturbed. "I am not alone," she said softly.
Before we could press her further, a loud, guttural mooing sound echoed through the clearing. We turned towards the direction the girl had come from, and there, emerging from the shadows, was the silhouette of an elk. As it approached, my stomach dropped. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of life and decay. Its skull was fully exposed, the eye sockets dark and empty. Large patches of its ribs were visible, the flesh around them rotted away.
The elk's movements were slow and deliberate, its head swaying as if in a trance. It walked directly towards us, its hollow eyes fixed on Sigyn. The closer it got, the more the stench of death filled the air—a nauseating mix of decay and earth. I fought the urge to retch.
Sigyn stood up, her expression calm. The monster sniffed her gently, its nostrils flaring. Without a word, she climbed onto its back, mounting it like a horse. It was a surreal and horrifying scene ripped straight from a nightmare.
As she settled onto the elk, she looked back at us, "A thief in the night shall reap what he sows," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. "Beware the price of stolen dreams."
With that, the beast turned and began to walk away, Sigyn riding it into the shadows of the forest. We stood there, frozen in place. The realization that we were in far over our heads began to sink in. This started to feel like a trap.
We need to get out of here," My voice trembling. "Now."
We turned to leave, our packs heavy with the pilfered goods. But as we took our first steps, the forest around us seemed to come alive. Shadows moved among the trees, and whispers floated on the wind. I quickened my pace, glancing nervously over my shoulder.
"Did you hear that?" Noah asked sharply,
"Just keep moving," I commanded.
A figure emerged from the shadows, blocking our path. It was a man, tall and gaunt, his eyes burning with an intense light. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
"We're leaving," I stammered. "We didn't mean any harm."
The man smirked, and with a swift motion, he raised his hand. More figures appeared, closing in on us from all sides. We were surrounded.
"Run!" I shouted, shoving Noah forward.
We sprinted through the forest, branches whipping at our faces and legs. The figures pursued us, their footsteps silent and relentless.
Noah stumbled and fell, his pack spilling open. Statues scattered across the ground, glinting in the moonlight. "Help!" he cried, scrambling to gather the items.
"Leave them!" I shouted, pulling him to his feet. "We have to keep moving!"
But it was too late, their hands seizing us. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but their grips were too strong. They forced us to the ground, binding our hands with rough, coarse ropes.
"Please," I begged, "Don't hurt us."
The man who had first appeared stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "A thief in the night," he mocked.
They dragged us through the forest, the trees closing in around us like a cage. We were at their mercy.
In the distance, I could see the elk standing at the edge of the clearing, Sigyn still astride its back. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pity. But then they turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.
We were dragged into the heart of the forest, our struggles futile against the unyielding grip of our captors. As we broke through the treeline, a massive bonfire came into view, its flames licking the night sky. Shadows danced around the clearing, cast by the flickering light. A woman stood at the forefront, her presence commanding.
Her eyes were milk white, devoid of pupils, and her long, flowing white hair cascaded down her back. She was completely naked, her skin pale and marked with intricate symbols. Atop her head, she wore an elk skull, its antlers extending like eerie, skeletal fingers. She beat a drum emblazoned with more of the same cryptic symbols, each thud resonating deep within my chest.
Around the fire, about two dozen people stood, all drinking from crude, horned cups. Their faces were solemn, eyes fixed on the woman as she led them in a haunting chant. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of reverence and intoxication.
We were forced to our knees before the woman, who paused her drumming to look down at us. Her gaze was haunting, as if she could see into the very depths of our souls.
"Who are you?" Noah demanded, his voice trembling.
The woman ignored him, raising her arms to the sky. The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drum faster and more frenzied. The air around us seemed to vibrate with energy, the flames of the bonfire growing higher and more intense.
I glanced at Noah, fear mirrored in his eyes. The woman began to speak, her voice low and melodic, but filled with power, in a language I couldn't understand. Suddenly, she stopped, lowering her arms. The chanting ceased, and an silence fell over the clearing. She looked directly at me, her white eyes unblinking.
En tjuv i natten skördar vad han sår, akta dig för drömmar som du stjäl och får.
Hans skratt bevakar lundens gömda stig, där skuggor sveper över skogens liv.
För varje stulet andetag och svek, måste en tjuv möta sitt smärtsamma ödelek.
Tricksterns vilja, vår ande här, så i hans nåd, våra liv bär.
I was terrified and confused. She started again, softer, in a way I could understand.
A thief in the night shall reap what he sows, beware the price of stolen dreams.
His laughter guards our hidden groves, where shadows cloak the forest's seams.
For every stolen breath and lie, a thief must meet his painful end.
The tricksters will, our spirits tie, so in his grace, our lives suspend.
The crowd surged forward, grabbing Noah first. He screamed, his terror echoing through the trees as they pulled him towards a makeshift altar beside the bonfire. The woman chanted louder, her voice rising in a hypnotic rhythm as they began their gruesome work.
They stripped him of his shirt and bound his arms to a wooden frame. I tried to move, to help him, but the grip on my shoulders tightened, pinning me to the ground.
The woman approached Noah, holding a knife with a blade that gleamed in the firelight. She started to slice into his back, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Noah's screams pierced the night as she methodically carved the shape of wings into his flesh.
Blood poured from the wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. The crowd's chant grew louder, almost drowning out his cries. I watched in horror as the woman reached into the incisions, breaking the ribs and pulling them outward, creating a parody of wings.
Noah's agony was unbearable to witness. His screams turned to whimpers, his body convulsing in pain. The woman didn't stop until the work was complete, his lungs exposed and hanging grotesquely from his back.
They lifted Noah's broken body and placed him over the fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, making me gag. His life ebbed away as the flames consumed him, the once vibrant light in his eyes fading to nothing.
The woman turned to me, her expression devoid of mercy. "You will meet the same fate," she said, "He demands it."
The smell of burning flesh and the sight of his broken body over the fire was seared into my mind. Despair settled over me as I closed my eyes.
A deafening blast shattered the night. My eyes flew open to see the shaman stumbling backward, a gaping wound in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her white eyes staring lifelessly into the void.
The villagers turned in shock as another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the men holding me. I twisted free from their grasp and saw the park ranger standing at the edge of the clearing, a pump-action shotgun in his hands. He fired again, the sound echoing through the forest, before one of them tackled him to the ground.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice raw and desperate. "Get the hell out of here!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted into the darkness, the chaos of the clearing fading behind me. Branches whipped at my face, and the snow underfoot made every step a struggle. I could hear the sounds of fighting and gunshots, but I forced myself to keep moving.
The cold air burned in my lungs, but adrenaline pushed me forward. I didn't stop until I reached the station, my legs threatening to give out from under me. I burst through the door and slammed it behind me.
Inside, Carl lay where we had left him, his face pale and twisted in pain. I stumbled to the radio, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the controls.
"Mayday, mayday!" I yelled into the microphone. "This is an emergency! We need help! Please, someone, come quickly!"
Static filled the room, punctuated by my ragged breaths. I repeated the call, my voice growing more frantic with each passing second. Finally, a voice crackled through the speaker. "This is Ranger Station Bravo. What's your location? Over."
I could barely form the words. "Olympic National Park! The ranger station near mount Christie! We're under attack! Please, send help!"
"Copy that. Help is on the way. Stay put and stay safe. Over."
I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. Carl moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. "What… What happened? Where's Noah?”
Tears streamed down my face and I found myself choked up. “He’s gone, man. Help is coming.”
The minutes stretched into an eternity as we waited. The wind howled around the station, and every creak and groan of the structure set my nerves on edge. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the forest itself was closing in on us.
The radio crackled again, this time with a different voice. "Helicopter en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare for extraction."
I glanced at Carl, his eyes filled with confusion. "Hang on. We're getting out of here."
As the minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but think about the ranger. He had saved my life, but he hadn't made it back. My mind conjured up images of what might have happened to him, the cultists overwhelming him in the darkness. A sense of guilt gnawed at me, knowing he had sacrificed himself for us.
The sound of rotors cut through the night, growing louder as the helicopter approached. I ran to the window and saw its searchlight piercing the treetops, scanning for the station.
I helped Carl to his feet, supporting his weight as we made our way to the hatch. The helicopter hovered above, lowering a rescue basket. The wind from the rotors whipped the snow into a frenzy, but I didn't care. Salvation was finally here.
We secured Carl in the basket first, and I watched as he was hoisted up, disappearing into the safety of the helicopter. My turn was next. I realized that I was now alone and exposed. Fear coursing through me as I scanned around the edge of the forest, expecting to be grabbed and taken seconds before my rescue. But the moment never came. As I gripped the rope, I took one last look at the forest below. The flames of the bonfire still flickered in the distance.
I was lifted into the air, the ground falling away beneath me. The helicopter's crew pulled me inside, and I collapsed onto the floor still holding onto my pack, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. The doors closed, and the helicopter banked away, leaving the horrors of the park behind.
Weeks had passed since the harrowing events, but the memories clung to me like the bitter cold. I had returned to civilization, seeking solace in the familiar chaos of the city. I found a wealthy collector through a network of contacts. The artifacts fetched a price tenfold the cost of gear. The money was substantial, but as I held the cash, it felt like a hollow victory.
Noah's absence weighed heavily on me. His disappearance was chalked up as a missing persons case, and despite my best efforts to explain what had happened, no one believed me. The authorities conducted a search of the area, but they found no trace of the cult, the artifacts, or the clearing. It was as if the forest had swallowed up all the evidence.
I returned to the site where we had parked the truck. The dirt bikes were gone, stolen by opportunistic thieves, but the truck remained. I drove back in silence, the road winding through the dense forest. For a moment, I thought I saw the girl watching me from atop a ridge until I realized it was just paranoia. I stepped on the gas a little harder.
Back home, I checked the Tomb Raiders forum again. The post that had led us into the forest was gone, deleted without a trace. I messaged the mods, but apparently, they don’t keep records to maintain confidentiality. I wrote about our experience, detailing every terrifying moment, but the responses were skeptical at best. Most dismissed it as a work of fiction or a desperate cry for attention.
Time passed, and I tried to return to a semblance of normalcy. Yet, the wilderness called to me stronger than ever. It was my sanctuary, the only place where I could find peace amidst the turmoil. I spent more and more time outdoors than ever before, but now it always felt like I was just running from something.
Determined to prove what had happened, I returned to the forest with a camera and recording equipment. This time, I documented every step, capturing footage of the trees, the snow, and the eerie silence that hung in the air. I retraced our path, hoping to find the clearing again. But each night, as I reviewed the footage, something strange would happen. The files would be corrupted or entire segments missing.
I pressed on. I found the site where Noah had fallen, the ground still bearing faint traces of what had happened. I set up the camera and began to speak, recounting the events in detail. As I spoke, a cold wind swept through the clearing, and the camera's screen flickered. I finished my account and turned to check the recording, only to find the file corrupted once again, the footage replaced by static and a faint, mocking laughter.
I returned home, defeated and exhausted. My attempts to share what I had experienced were met with disbelief and ridicule. The files I managed to save were corrupted beyond recognition. It was as if the forest itself was conspiring against me.
Almost exactly one year later, as I browsed the forums, a new post caught my eye. It was cryptic, eerily similar to the one that had led us into the nightmare. It spoke of another trove of artifacts, hidden deep within the wilderness, waiting to be claimed.
The post was signed with a new name: Skygge. Different handle, same style. Another trap. They had taken so much from me, left scars that would never heal. I opened my drawer, my fingers brushing over the cold metal of my weapons. This was the moment I had been waiting for. This time, I'll be ready.
The forest’s secrets won't remain hidden forever.
submitted by Arbrand to nosleep [link] [comments]
The first time I visited the Pacific Northwest, I was enchanted. The scenery was breathtaking—majestic mountains, lush fields, and meandering rivers. It was clear that anyone who praised the desert's beauty had never laid eyes on the Cascades. Seeing grass and wildflowers growing without irrigation was practically a revelation.
When I was old enough, I moved to Washington state, immersing myself in nature every weekend. My adventures took me hiking through dense forests, camping by serene lakes, and occasionally taking mushrooms under peaceful waterfalls.
I joined several online forums dedicated to outdoor enthusiasts. One community that particularly fascinated me was the Northwest Tomb Raiders. This group of history buffs and thrill-seekers was dedicated to uncovering artifacts, whether Native American relics or treasures hidden in modern ruins. Many members were collectors, fencing their finds to museums and archaeologists, which made it a rather profitable side gig, should you be lucky enough.
In the fall of 2009, an intriguing post appeared on the forum. A user named Lokk claimed to have discovered a cache of artifacts with Scandinavian origins. He couldn't carry everything back due to the treacherous terrain and his age, so he shared the coordinates, hoping someone else could retrieve the items. I scrolled down to see a few posts of people planning to loot it in the Spring, when the paths have reopened. One user, Patagooner, planned on going as early as possible.
Excited by the prospect, I gathered my two friends, Carl and Noah, for the expedition. They weren't as enthusiastic about camping as I was, but after I told them how much a single arrowhead goes for on the black market, they were on board. It was the start of winter now, which had its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, the rangers would have a harder time spotting us. On the downside, the harsh conditions posed a serious challenge for two inexperienced hikers.
I must’ve blown about four grand at REI on gear for them, justifying it with the knowledge of how much more I would make with two extra packs. That is of course assuming there really were as many artifacts as Lokk had said, and Patagooner hadn’t beaten me there.
The journey began like any other. We met in the pre-dawn darkness and went over our supplies, ensuring we had everything we needed. By mid-morning, we were on our way, my pickup truck winding up the mountain paths. The roads of Olympic National Park were the epitome of the raw, untamed beauty of the Pacific Northwest.
They snake through ancient forests, where towering Douglas firs and Western hemlocks create a verdant canopy overhead. Mist clings to the trees, giving the landscape an ethereal quality. Occasionally, the forest would open up to reveal breathtaking vistas of snow-capped peaks and deep, shadowy valleys.
As we climbed higher, the landscape grew increasingly desolate. The dense forest thinned out, replaced by rugged terrain and jagged rock formations. The air grew colder, and the first flurries of snow began to fall, dusting the ground in a thin, white layer. The road became narrower and more treacherous, winding precariously along the edge of steep cliffs.
Finally, a road closure blockade signaled the end of our journey in the truck. We unloaded three dirt bikes—one mine, two rentals—and continued up the trail. The bikes roared to life, carrying us several more miles into the wilderness. The trail twisted and turned, cutting through dense underbrush and over fallen logs. The snow began to fall more heavily, blanketing the forest floor and muffling the sound of our engines. The world around us grew quieter, more isolated.
Eventually, the snow became too deep to traverse by bike. We dismounted and prepared to continue on foot. The silence of the forest was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches in the wind. I checked my modern GPS, its screen displaying the coordinates and a relief map of our destination.
Suddenly, Carl's excited whisper cut through the stillness. "Hey, look at that!"
He pointed to a small, furry creature ambling through the trees. It took a moment to realize what it was—a bear cub, innocently exploring its surroundings.
My heart sank. "Carl, get back," I hissed, my voice low but urgent. "Where there's a cub, there's a..."
Before I could finish, a massive shape exploded from the trees. The mother bear, easily three times the size of the cub, charged at Carl with a ferocity. She was a blur of dark fur and powerful muscles, her roar echoing through the forest.
"Run!" I yelled, but it was too late. The bear was upon Carl, swiping at him with her massive paws. He screamed as he fell to the ground, the bear towering over him. Desperation and adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest heavy branch and swung it at the bear, hoping to distract her.
Noah joined in, shouting and waving his arms. We had to be careful; one wrong move and she would turn on us. The bear snarled, turning her attention away from Carl for just a moment. It was enough for him to scramble backwards, clutching his bleeding arm.
"We have to get him out of here," I shouted to Noah, who nodded, fear etched on his face. The bear, still enraged, seemed torn between attacking us and protecting her cub.
Using the brief respite, we hauled Carl to his feet. His face was white, and he was clearly in shock. Blood soaked his sleeve, dripping onto the snow. "There's a ranger station about two miles from here," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to get him there. Now."
We half-carried, half-dragged Carl through the forest, every shadow and sound heightening our paranoia.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the small, wooden structure of the ranger station came into view. We had been avoiding the rangers to keep our expedition secret, but now it was our only hope.
Pounding on the door, I prayed for a quick response. The door creaked open, and a weathered face appeared. "What happened?" the ranger demanded, taking in the sight of Carl's bloodied form.
"Bear attack," I gasped. "We need help."
The ranger's expression shifted from suspicion to urgency. "Get him inside. We've got a first aid kit and a radio."
As we eased Carl onto a makeshift bed, the ranger inspected his wounds. "You're lucky," he said after a moment. "The cuts are deep, but they missed any major arteries. He'll need stitches, but we can handle that here. No need for an airlift."
The ranger's face darkened as he turned to me. "What the hell are you boys doing out here?”
I hesitated, "We... we were just exploring."
The ranger's eyes narrowed, his anger palpable. "Exploring? In a restricted area? In the middle of winter? Are you out of your minds?"
He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and stitching Carl's wounds. Carl winced but stayed silent, his eyes closed in pain.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?" the ranger continued, his voice rising. "The storm, the wildlife... This area is off-limits for a reason! You should have known better." he said, pushing a finger into my chest.
"We'll stay here for the night," he continued, "The storm's getting worse, and it's too dangerous to move him now. We'll reassess in the morning. And count yourself lucky I don't arrest your asses."
The ranger looked at us sternly. "I need to check the perimeter and make sure everything is secure. There are things out there you don’t want to encounter, especially in this storm."
"Things? What do you mean?" Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ranger's expression hardened. "Just stay put. No matter what you see or hear, do not leave this cabin. Understood?"
We nodded, the seriousness in his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll stay put," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The ranger grabbed his coat and shotgun. "I'll be back in an hour. Do not leave this cabin." With that, he opened the door and stepped into the raging storm, disappearing into the darkness.
As soon as the door closed, I turned to Noah. "We need to go. Now."
Noah's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? He said to stay put."
"If we wait until morning, we'll be escorted out of here and lose our chance. This might be our only opportunity to find those artifacts."
Noah hesitated with uncertainty "But... what about Carl?"
"He'll be fine here. The ranger can take care of him. We have to do this now."
Reluctantly, Noah nodded. "Alright. Let's take what we can and go."
We quickly looted extra gear from the cabin. I checked the GPS one last time before we slipped out into the storm, the cold wind battering us.
The snow fell heavily, obscuring our vision as we slogged through the forest. The ranger was nowhere in sight as we made our way towards the our destination, each step filled with trepidatious excitement.
Noah and I exchanged glances, our eyes wide with amazement. "Do you see this?" I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
"We're going to be rich," Noah replied, his voice trembling with awe. "These must be worth a fortune!"
We approached cautiously, as if the vision before us might disappear. The craftsmanship was stunning. I reached out to touch a carved wooden idol, marveling at the detail. "This is incredible," I said, my voice barely audible.
We began to load our packs with as many artifacts as we could carry, each one more exquisite than the last. It was beyond our wildest dreams. We were so engrossed in our task that we didn't notice the small figure watching us from the ridge.
It wasn't until I turned to leave that I saw her. A young girl, maybe eight years old, stood there, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. She was dressed in simple, rustic clothing, her blonde straight hair blowing gently in the wind. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Noah," I whispered urgently, nudging him. "Look."
He turned, his eyes following my gaze. "What the...?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
The girl took a tentative step forward, her eyes fixed on the items in our hands. There was no fear in her gaze, only a quiet intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She tilted her head slightly. "My name is Sigyn."
"What are you doing out here, Sigyn?" Noah asked, his voice shaky.
"I live here,"
"You live here?" I echoed, incredulous. "Is there anyone else around?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Where?" Noah demanded, looking around nervously.
"Everywhere," she said with a giggle.
The way she said it, so matter-of-factly, bothered me deeply. Noah and I exchanged a look, both of us trying to figure out what to do next.
"We can't take her back to the ranger," Noah started, "We'll lose everything."
I nodded, my mind racing. "Sigyn," I said slowly, "we need to know who else is here. Can you help us?"
She looked at me with her piercing blue eyes, then said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Noah asked.
"For what's going to happen to you," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
She looked up at him, unperturbed. "I am not alone," she said softly.
Before we could press her further, a loud, guttural mooing sound echoed through the clearing. We turned towards the direction the girl had come from, and there, emerging from the shadows, was the silhouette of an elk. As it approached, my stomach dropped. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of life and decay. Its skull was fully exposed, the eye sockets dark and empty. Large patches of its ribs were visible, the flesh around them rotted away.
The elk's movements were slow and deliberate, its head swaying as if in a trance. It walked directly towards us, its hollow eyes fixed on Sigyn. The closer it got, the more the stench of death filled the air—a nauseating mix of decay and earth. I fought the urge to retch.
Sigyn stood up, her expression calm. The monster sniffed her gently, its nostrils flaring. Without a word, she climbed onto its back, mounting it like a horse. It was a surreal and horrifying scene ripped straight from a nightmare.
As she settled onto the elk, she looked back at us, "A thief in the night shall reap what he sows," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. "Beware the price of stolen dreams."
With that, the beast turned and began to walk away, Sigyn riding it into the shadows of the forest. We stood there, frozen in place. The realization that we were in far over our heads began to sink in. This started to feel like a trap.
We turned to leave, our packs heavy with the pilfered goods. But as we took our first steps, the forest around us seemed to come alive. Shadows moved among the trees, and whispers floated on the wind. I quickened my pace, glancing nervously over my shoulder.
"Did you hear that?" Noah asked sharply,
"Just keep moving," I commanded.
A figure emerged from the shadows, blocking our path. It was a man, tall and gaunt, his eyes burning with an intense light. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
"We're leaving," I stammered. "We didn't mean any harm."
The man smirked, and with a swift motion, he raised his hand. More figures appeared, closing in on us from all sides. We were surrounded.
"Run!" I shouted, shoving Noah forward.
We sprinted through the forest, branches whipping at our faces and legs. The figures pursued us, their footsteps silent and relentless.
Noah stumbled and fell, his pack spilling open. Statues scattered across the ground, glinting in the moonlight. "Help!" he cried, scrambling to gather the items.
"Leave them!" I shouted, pulling him to his feet. "We have to keep moving!"
But it was too late, their hands seizing us. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but their grips were too strong. They forced us to the ground, binding our hands with rough, coarse ropes.
"Please," I begged, "Don't hurt us."
The man who had first appeared stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "A thief in the night," he mocked.
They dragged us through the forest, the trees closing in around us like a cage. We were at their mercy.
In the distance, I could see the elk standing at the edge of the clearing, Sigyn still astride its back. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pity. But then they turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.
Her eyes were milk white, devoid of pupils, and her long, flowing white hair cascaded down her back. She was completely naked, her skin pale and marked with intricate symbols. Atop her head, she wore an elk skull, its antlers extending like eerie, skeletal fingers. She beat a drum emblazoned with more of the same cryptic symbols, each thud resonating deep within my chest.
Around the fire, about two dozen people stood, all drinking from crude, horned cups. Their faces were solemn, eyes fixed on the woman as she led them in a haunting chant. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of reverence and intoxication.
We were forced to our knees before the woman, who paused her drumming to look down at us. Her gaze was haunting, as if she could see into the very depths of our souls.
"Who are you?" Noah demanded, his voice trembling.
The woman ignored him, raising her arms to the sky. The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drum faster and more frenzied. The air around us seemed to vibrate with energy, the flames of the bonfire growing higher and more intense.
I glanced at Noah, fear mirrored in his eyes. The woman began to speak, her voice low and melodic, but filled with power, in a language I couldn't understand. Suddenly, she stopped, lowering her arms. The chanting ceased, and an silence fell over the clearing. She looked directly at me, her white eyes unblinking.
En tjuv i natten skördar vad han sår, akta dig för drömmar som du stjäl och får.
Hans skratt bevakar lundens gömda stig, där skuggor sveper över skogens liv.
För varje stulet andetag och svek, måste en tjuv möta sitt smärtsamma ödelek.
Tricksterns vilja, vår ande här, så i hans nåd, våra liv bär.
I was terrified and confused. She started again, softer, in a way I could understand.
A thief in the night shall reap what he sows, beware the price of stolen dreams.
His laughter guards our hidden groves, where shadows cloak the forest's seams.
For every stolen breath and lie, a thief must meet his painful end.
The tricksters will, our spirits tie, so in his grace, our lives suspend.
The crowd surged forward, grabbing Noah first. He screamed, his terror echoing through the trees as they pulled him towards a makeshift altar beside the bonfire. The woman chanted louder, her voice rising in a hypnotic rhythm as they began their gruesome work.
They stripped him of his shirt and bound his arms to a wooden frame. I tried to move, to help him, but the grip on my shoulders tightened, pinning me to the ground.
The woman approached Noah, holding a knife with a blade that gleamed in the firelight. She started to slice into his back, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Noah's screams pierced the night as she methodically carved the shape of wings into his flesh.
Blood poured from the wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. The crowd's chant grew louder, almost drowning out his cries. I watched in horror as the woman reached into the incisions, breaking the ribs and pulling them outward, creating a parody of wings.
Noah's agony was unbearable to witness. His screams turned to whimpers, his body convulsing in pain. The woman didn't stop until the work was complete, his lungs exposed and hanging grotesquely from his back.
They lifted Noah's broken body and placed him over the fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, making me gag. His life ebbed away as the flames consumed him, the once vibrant light in his eyes fading to nothing.
The woman turned to me, her expression devoid of mercy. "You will meet the same fate," she said, "He demands it."
A deafening blast shattered the night. My eyes flew open to see the shaman stumbling backward, a gaping wound in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her white eyes staring lifelessly into the void.
The villagers turned in shock as another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the men holding me. I twisted free from their grasp and saw the park ranger standing at the edge of the clearing, a pump-action shotgun in his hands. He fired again, the sound echoing through the forest, before one of them tackled him to the ground.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice raw and desperate. "Get the hell out of here!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted into the darkness, the chaos of the clearing fading behind me. Branches whipped at my face, and the snow underfoot made every step a struggle. I could hear the sounds of fighting and gunshots, but I forced myself to keep moving.
The cold air burned in my lungs, but adrenaline pushed me forward. I didn't stop until I reached the station, my legs threatening to give out from under me. I burst through the door and slammed it behind me.
Inside, Carl lay where we had left him, his face pale and twisted in pain. I stumbled to the radio, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the controls.
"Mayday, mayday!" I yelled into the microphone. "This is an emergency! We need help! Please, someone, come quickly!"
Static filled the room, punctuated by my ragged breaths. I repeated the call, my voice growing more frantic with each passing second. Finally, a voice crackled through the speaker. "This is Ranger Station Bravo. What's your location? Over."
I could barely form the words. "Olympic National Park! The ranger station near mount Christie! We're under attack! Please, send help!"
"Copy that. Help is on the way. Stay put and stay safe. Over."
I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. Carl moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. "What… What happened? Where's Noah?”
Tears streamed down my face and I found myself choked up. “He’s gone, man. Help is coming.”
The minutes stretched into an eternity as we waited. The wind howled around the station, and every creak and groan of the structure set my nerves on edge. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the forest itself was closing in on us.
The radio crackled again, this time with a different voice. "Helicopter en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare for extraction."
I glanced at Carl, his eyes filled with confusion. "Hang on. We're getting out of here."
As the minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but think about the ranger. He had saved my life, but he hadn't made it back. My mind conjured up images of what might have happened to him, the cultists overwhelming him in the darkness. A sense of guilt gnawed at me, knowing he had sacrificed himself for us.
The sound of rotors cut through the night, growing louder as the helicopter approached. I ran to the window and saw its searchlight piercing the treetops, scanning for the station.
I helped Carl to his feet, supporting his weight as we made our way to the hatch. The helicopter hovered above, lowering a rescue basket. The wind from the rotors whipped the snow into a frenzy, but I didn't care. Salvation was finally here.
We secured Carl in the basket first, and I watched as he was hoisted up, disappearing into the safety of the helicopter. My turn was next. I realized that I was now alone and exposed. Fear coursing through me as I scanned around the edge of the forest, expecting to be grabbed and taken seconds before my rescue. But the moment never came. As I gripped the rope, I took one last look at the forest below. The flames of the bonfire still flickered in the distance.
I was lifted into the air, the ground falling away beneath me. The helicopter's crew pulled me inside, and I collapsed onto the floor still holding onto my pack, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. The doors closed, and the helicopter banked away, leaving the horrors of the park behind.
Noah's absence weighed heavily on me. His disappearance was chalked up as a missing persons case, and despite my best efforts to explain what had happened, no one believed me. The authorities conducted a search of the area, but they found no trace of the cult, the artifacts, or the clearing. It was as if the forest had swallowed up all the evidence.
I returned to the site where we had parked the truck. The dirt bikes were gone, stolen by opportunistic thieves, but the truck remained. I drove back in silence, the road winding through the dense forest. For a moment, I thought I saw the girl watching me from atop a ridge until I realized it was just paranoia. I stepped on the gas a little harder.
Back home, I checked the Tomb Raiders forum again. The post that had led us into the forest was gone, deleted without a trace. I messaged the mods, but apparently, they don’t keep records to maintain confidentiality. I wrote about our experience, detailing every terrifying moment, but the responses were skeptical at best. Most dismissed it as a work of fiction or a desperate cry for attention.
Time passed, and I tried to return to a semblance of normalcy. Yet, the wilderness called to me stronger than ever. It was my sanctuary, the only place where I could find peace amidst the turmoil. I spent more and more time outdoors than ever before, but now it always felt like I was just running from something.
Determined to prove what had happened, I returned to the forest with a camera and recording equipment. This time, I documented every step, capturing footage of the trees, the snow, and the eerie silence that hung in the air. I retraced our path, hoping to find the clearing again. But each night, as I reviewed the footage, something strange would happen. The files would be corrupted or entire segments missing.
I pressed on. I found the site where Noah had fallen, the ground still bearing faint traces of what had happened. I set up the camera and began to speak, recounting the events in detail. As I spoke, a cold wind swept through the clearing, and the camera's screen flickered. I finished my account and turned to check the recording, only to find the file corrupted once again, the footage replaced by static and a faint, mocking laughter.
I returned home, defeated and exhausted. My attempts to share what I had experienced were met with disbelief and ridicule. The files I managed to save were corrupted beyond recognition. It was as if the forest itself was conspiring against me.
Almost exactly one year later, as I browsed the forums, a new post caught my eye. It was cryptic, eerily similar to the one that had led us into the nightmare. It spoke of another trove of artifacts, hidden deep within the wilderness, waiting to be claimed.
The post was signed with a new name: Skygge. Different handle, same style. Another trap. They had taken so much from me, left scars that would never heal. I opened my drawer, my fingers brushing over the cold metal of my weapons. This was the moment I had been waiting for. This time, I'll be ready.
The forest’s secrets won't remain hidden forever.
2024.05.16 14:33 Chin-Me Sick after a day at Rotto
Hey everyone, I recently visited Perth/Fremantle and of course did a day at Rottnest Island. I didn't feed or touch any quokkas but I did get close enough to snap a couple selfies and I did sit on the ground and sat in areas where they were running around. I am aware that quokkas carry salmonella but I'm wondering has anyone actually caught salmonella from a quokka? How common/likely is this? I like to think my hand hygiene is pretty good since I work in healthcare but the following day, I woke up with intense stomach pain, diarrhea and vomiting and a bit of fevechills. My husband, who was on this trip with me and ate almost everything the same as me with the exception of 2 things, was fine. He took lots of photos of quokkas too but probably wasn't laying on the ground like me. The 2 things I ate that he didn't include: a variation of a meat pie from the bakery on Rottnest Island and a dessert from a fancy restaurant in Fremantle that was chocolate mousse with a sort of jam compote on top. I include this detail because where we live now there was an incident many years ago at a fair where one of the foods served had a jam product filled with staph bacteria that made dozens of people sick. The timing of it all makes me think it could be the dessert I ate that night after our rotto trip but how common or easy is it to get salmonella or any other sickness from a quokka? I can't seem to find anyone who has openly said they got sick from them. Thank you!
submitted by Chin-Me to perth [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 13:57 ambercrush Cardiologist won’t remove halter monitor
Good morning, I was hoping you could help me with some advice. My mom had to go to the hospital (US) last week for what she thought was a stroke and the cardiologist there told her they were going to give her this heart monitor and they told her it was gonna be a really small little thing that they’re putting in and it ended up being this very large, I guess about the size of a bullet implant into her chest and it’s really hurting her and it’s infected and the cardiologist is refusing to take it out.
So my mom tried going to a different ER about a week later and they told her that the only person who can take it out is the cardiologist at the first hospital.
My mom really wants to get this thing out of her chest and she can’t find anybody that will take it out.
Do you know who she can go to other than cardiologist to get this heart monitor out of her chest and get a different one put in?
My heart monitor that I got didn’t have to be implanted so I don’t understand why they even put something in there so invasive.
My mom is a very thin person and she really doesn’t have a lot of meat on her chest and it’s been hurting her this whole time.
Every morning she wakes up and it’s throbbing and she’s having panic attacks about it and she’s not sleeping and she’s sweating all night long, it’s terrible.
What’s the point of doing a heart monitor when you can’t even get a baseline because the patient is in pain constantly and having panic attacks all night?
I really wanna help her and I’m hoping you might be able to think of something that she can do to get it out and get a non-invasive one put on.
submitted by ambercrush to askCardiology [link] [comments]
So my mom tried going to a different ER about a week later and they told her that the only person who can take it out is the cardiologist at the first hospital.
My mom really wants to get this thing out of her chest and she can’t find anybody that will take it out.
Do you know who she can go to other than cardiologist to get this heart monitor out of her chest and get a different one put in?
My heart monitor that I got didn’t have to be implanted so I don’t understand why they even put something in there so invasive.
My mom is a very thin person and she really doesn’t have a lot of meat on her chest and it’s been hurting her this whole time.
Every morning she wakes up and it’s throbbing and she’s having panic attacks about it and she’s not sleeping and she’s sweating all night long, it’s terrible.
What’s the point of doing a heart monitor when you can’t even get a baseline because the patient is in pain constantly and having panic attacks all night?
I really wanna help her and I’m hoping you might be able to think of something that she can do to get it out and get a non-invasive one put on.
2024.05.16 12:03 TaliGrayson Australia's biggest beast in the bush may have just committed serial killing. I am not sure if I can show all of you that, so I will tell you.
Being eaten.
No, I do not mean being on the receiving end as someone goes down on you. Sex seems to be popular in fiction these days, if the shitty Fifty Shades of Grey is any indication, and I sorely, desperately wish what I was about to write was all fiction. Then I could sprinkle some gratuitous sex on it, go to a publisher, and hope that it would sell. Then I would be not risking my job altogether sharing this so that strangers on the Internet would at least know of my suffering in having to watch human beings die brutal, bloody deaths to satisfy a desire even more primal than sex and far less pleasurable.
Yes, I’m talking about eating. And about being literally, bona fide eaten. An incredulous notion in modern society, where we live in concrete houses and walk on asphalt streets. Where the animals we encounter are anywhere between little quacking ducks and crotch-high geese. We live free of our early ancestor’s fear of becoming something else’s food. Crocodile, tiger, lion - pick your customer. It, in most cases, starts with the intense pressure of clamp-strong jaws, driving teeth into parts of your body where teeth should not be stabbing into. Depending on how lucky you are, there will likely be hellish pain lasting anywhere from seconds to minutes (that I am willing to bet feels much longer) before death takes you. What happens to your consciousness after that is a popular debate. What happens to your body is not. You get chewed into a consistency similar to hamburger patties in some cases, swallowed whole in others. Different vehicles to the same destination of an acidic stomach. Your useful parts are broken down into a mushy soup. The rest are ejected from the back end.
A shitty way to go, literally and metaphorically. A living human being, full of emotions and dreams and hope, turned into lifeless steak, soup then shit. At least three out of five young men and women whose last days I will recount below went that way. The other two… well, let’s say that it has been three weeks at this time of writing, and I do not have much hope.
The day started with Matthew dropping several paper files in beige covers on my desk. When I opened it and saw a report complete with pictures of grinning people on the first page, I knew right there and then that it was going to be anything but a normal day at work.
“Missing?” I asked, eyebrows raising. It was the single possibility. Police could have pictures on their desks for all kinds of stuff, but not us rangers. Only then did I notice the tight line Matthew’s lips had pressed into.
“Not like that, no.” He shook his head. “None of them got lost. All five came down here from Sydney, stayed at Winston Ward’s place. That’s Ward’s daughter, Madeleine.” His fingers pressed on the picture of a girl at the top of the page. Hair dyed blue and with the brightest smile of the bunch, I noticed. “She and one other, Cathy, their Indigenous guide, are the two still missing.” Matthew pointed next to the picture below Madeleine. Cathy was dark-skinned and had a hiking stick resting above her shoulder, clearly posing for some sort of promotional photo. “And these three, well…”
I took a quick glance at the other photos. Steve Wilson had the build of a runner, wiry and dressed in a tank top to match. Lisa Mooney, blonde with gold-rimmed glasses. Ashley Lo - his curly dark hair tied back into a ponytail. I knew I would not have to pay extra-close attention to their appearance. Two missing.
“I don’t know, man. Kind of wanted your input on it, too.” Matthew shook his head. “Best you see it for yourself. The police could not decide if it was murder or an animal attack, so they requested us. Found all three of them ripped apart. Caught, well, a suspect, I suppose, on their own cam-”
“You kidding? A suspect and they could not decide if it’s an animal attack or not?”
“I know, Tom, watch it for yourself and tell me I’m not crazy. Hells, they didn’t just have the pictures. Caught the damned killings on film, and still can’t decide if he, it - whatever - is man or animal. I will send the footage over in a bit. Some photos are in there, too. Just don’t puke up your breakfast. I’m seriously thinking of going vegan.”
What the fuck?
I frowned. Matthew could not wait for someone to share his hell, I supposed, and quickly retreated back into his office, leaving me alone with the papers.
Here are the facts.
Winston Ward, your typical real estate rich guy, bought some bushland last year next to our park. His plan was straightforward - setting up lavish air-conditioned bungalows amidst the Australian bush, complete with five-star hotel facilities such as private pools and a fine dining restaurant. A luxury retreat amidst trees and shrubs, letting you enjoy the best of nature and avoiding the worst. No insect stings, soaking rains or blistering heat that the normal campers had to suffer. Just a couple of hours drive from Sydney to boot. All well and good, except for the fact that it came alarmingly close to intruding on national park’s land. So Parks and Wildlife Service took notice and kept a close eye on Ward’s project. So far, even though he has not opened his retreat and nothing illegal had been done, Ward became a popular name among us rangers. Just in case.
I certainly did not expect his name - or his family’s name, rather - to come up this way.
It had been Ashley’s idea. An Ecology graduate, he wanted to make a documentary about Aboriginal people’s way of sustainable living among nature. He got his girlfriend, Madeleine Ward, into it, alongside fellow graduates Steve and Lisa. Madeleine easily secured the filming spot with her father. They hired Cathy as the expert for the film, and the five of them occupied two bungalows. Living in the lap of luxury while trying to promote sustainability. Three cameras were installed. Two security cams for each bungalow, expectedly. The third was a camera trap, the kind used on wildlife trails to capture pictures and videos of animals. Likely intended for fun.
As much as I respect the purpose of their never-finished documentary, I find twenty six-year-old Ashley rather hypocritical, and rather gross given how Madeleine only turned eighteen three months ago. But not to speak ill of the dead, I suppose.
I braced myself as I turned the page for the photos, and failed to stop the dry-heave that came up. Three bodies, gnawed clean of flesh. Strands of dark curly hair on the first mangled head identified it as Ashley’s. The skull was smashed open, its insides, empty where a brain had been licked clean, caked with dried blood. Shattered pieces of his bones were strewn over muddy soil, brown rain water filling in troughs where the marrow that had been sucked out. Steve and Lisa was in roughly a familiar state, and I shivered at how disturbingly clean the bones were. Take away the skull that clearly showed the remains to be human, and it could have been a smokehouse’s dump - filled with finished ribs and chicken wings.
And yet, the final photo proved even more unsettling.
It was a still taken from one of the security cameras. At night, judging from the grey filter. It was still bright enough, however, for me to make out the grassy front of a bungalow. Bushes and shrubs lined the far end. A dark figure loomed over them, casting a long shadow.
I shivered once more.
I had walked into the bushes hundreds, if not thousands, of times. I knew how dense they could be - reaching up to your chests in many places. That figure - standing on two legs with long arms drooping at its side - barely had its knees covered by the shrubs. The photo, even though grainy, was clear enough for me to make out a domed head resting upon a neck so thick the figure might as well be said to lack one. Matching broad shoulders held up that neck, deltoids bulging. The… thing, apparently, had little hair as far as I could see.
I did not notice how hard I had clenched my jaws until a cramp-like pain made me grunt. Matthew could not be fucking with me, could he? I had worked with the guy for years. I called the local police station. The woman on the other end confirmed it. Unless a whole station was in on the prank with Matthew - an idea equally impossible as what I was seeing - it seemed like we had won the reverse lottery of missing and dead people cases.
As much as the Internet likes to make fun of its deadly wildlife, most of Australia has no large land predators. Dingoes are pretty much your average dog. The huge crocs live way too far to the north and sharks do not magically appear in the middle of bushlands. Neither looked like some psychopathic, cannibalistic basketball player wearing a shaved-clean, badly proportioned gorilla suit. The police’s best option was us, I could tell, but as far as me and Matthew went, we were equally clueless.
I shook my head and rubbed my temples - for a moment questioning my sense of reality. That was until an alert jabbed into the screen of my desktop. Matthew’s email.
Here is the footage, Tom. Crazy stuff. I got them to send us a scan of Madeleine’s journal, too. Found where those kids were seen last.
An unholy amount of files came in a link he attached.
The rest of my day was spent going through them all. I still know not what to make of what I saw, and I need time to collect myself before I can write of what I have seen on those tapes.
I need a nap. And dinner. But no meat. I agree with Matthew. As much as I loved a nice scotch fillet, I’m probably going vegan for a while.
submitted by TaliGrayson to nosleep [link] [comments]
No, I do not mean being on the receiving end as someone goes down on you. Sex seems to be popular in fiction these days, if the shitty Fifty Shades of Grey is any indication, and I sorely, desperately wish what I was about to write was all fiction. Then I could sprinkle some gratuitous sex on it, go to a publisher, and hope that it would sell. Then I would be not risking my job altogether sharing this so that strangers on the Internet would at least know of my suffering in having to watch human beings die brutal, bloody deaths to satisfy a desire even more primal than sex and far less pleasurable.
Yes, I’m talking about eating. And about being literally, bona fide eaten. An incredulous notion in modern society, where we live in concrete houses and walk on asphalt streets. Where the animals we encounter are anywhere between little quacking ducks and crotch-high geese. We live free of our early ancestor’s fear of becoming something else’s food. Crocodile, tiger, lion - pick your customer. It, in most cases, starts with the intense pressure of clamp-strong jaws, driving teeth into parts of your body where teeth should not be stabbing into. Depending on how lucky you are, there will likely be hellish pain lasting anywhere from seconds to minutes (that I am willing to bet feels much longer) before death takes you. What happens to your consciousness after that is a popular debate. What happens to your body is not. You get chewed into a consistency similar to hamburger patties in some cases, swallowed whole in others. Different vehicles to the same destination of an acidic stomach. Your useful parts are broken down into a mushy soup. The rest are ejected from the back end.
A shitty way to go, literally and metaphorically. A living human being, full of emotions and dreams and hope, turned into lifeless steak, soup then shit. At least three out of five young men and women whose last days I will recount below went that way. The other two… well, let’s say that it has been three weeks at this time of writing, and I do not have much hope.
The day started with Matthew dropping several paper files in beige covers on my desk. When I opened it and saw a report complete with pictures of grinning people on the first page, I knew right there and then that it was going to be anything but a normal day at work.
“Missing?” I asked, eyebrows raising. It was the single possibility. Police could have pictures on their desks for all kinds of stuff, but not us rangers. Only then did I notice the tight line Matthew’s lips had pressed into.
“Not like that, no.” He shook his head. “None of them got lost. All five came down here from Sydney, stayed at Winston Ward’s place. That’s Ward’s daughter, Madeleine.” His fingers pressed on the picture of a girl at the top of the page. Hair dyed blue and with the brightest smile of the bunch, I noticed. “She and one other, Cathy, their Indigenous guide, are the two still missing.” Matthew pointed next to the picture below Madeleine. Cathy was dark-skinned and had a hiking stick resting above her shoulder, clearly posing for some sort of promotional photo. “And these three, well…”
I took a quick glance at the other photos. Steve Wilson had the build of a runner, wiry and dressed in a tank top to match. Lisa Mooney, blonde with gold-rimmed glasses. Ashley Lo - his curly dark hair tied back into a ponytail. I knew I would not have to pay extra-close attention to their appearance. Two missing.
“I don’t know, man. Kind of wanted your input on it, too.” Matthew shook his head. “Best you see it for yourself. The police could not decide if it was murder or an animal attack, so they requested us. Found all three of them ripped apart. Caught, well, a suspect, I suppose, on their own cam-”
“You kidding? A suspect and they could not decide if it’s an animal attack or not?”
“I know, Tom, watch it for yourself and tell me I’m not crazy. Hells, they didn’t just have the pictures. Caught the damned killings on film, and still can’t decide if he, it - whatever - is man or animal. I will send the footage over in a bit. Some photos are in there, too. Just don’t puke up your breakfast. I’m seriously thinking of going vegan.”
What the fuck?
I frowned. Matthew could not wait for someone to share his hell, I supposed, and quickly retreated back into his office, leaving me alone with the papers.
Here are the facts.
Winston Ward, your typical real estate rich guy, bought some bushland last year next to our park. His plan was straightforward - setting up lavish air-conditioned bungalows amidst the Australian bush, complete with five-star hotel facilities such as private pools and a fine dining restaurant. A luxury retreat amidst trees and shrubs, letting you enjoy the best of nature and avoiding the worst. No insect stings, soaking rains or blistering heat that the normal campers had to suffer. Just a couple of hours drive from Sydney to boot. All well and good, except for the fact that it came alarmingly close to intruding on national park’s land. So Parks and Wildlife Service took notice and kept a close eye on Ward’s project. So far, even though he has not opened his retreat and nothing illegal had been done, Ward became a popular name among us rangers. Just in case.
I certainly did not expect his name - or his family’s name, rather - to come up this way.
It had been Ashley’s idea. An Ecology graduate, he wanted to make a documentary about Aboriginal people’s way of sustainable living among nature. He got his girlfriend, Madeleine Ward, into it, alongside fellow graduates Steve and Lisa. Madeleine easily secured the filming spot with her father. They hired Cathy as the expert for the film, and the five of them occupied two bungalows. Living in the lap of luxury while trying to promote sustainability. Three cameras were installed. Two security cams for each bungalow, expectedly. The third was a camera trap, the kind used on wildlife trails to capture pictures and videos of animals. Likely intended for fun.
As much as I respect the purpose of their never-finished documentary, I find twenty six-year-old Ashley rather hypocritical, and rather gross given how Madeleine only turned eighteen three months ago. But not to speak ill of the dead, I suppose.
I braced myself as I turned the page for the photos, and failed to stop the dry-heave that came up. Three bodies, gnawed clean of flesh. Strands of dark curly hair on the first mangled head identified it as Ashley’s. The skull was smashed open, its insides, empty where a brain had been licked clean, caked with dried blood. Shattered pieces of his bones were strewn over muddy soil, brown rain water filling in troughs where the marrow that had been sucked out. Steve and Lisa was in roughly a familiar state, and I shivered at how disturbingly clean the bones were. Take away the skull that clearly showed the remains to be human, and it could have been a smokehouse’s dump - filled with finished ribs and chicken wings.
And yet, the final photo proved even more unsettling.
It was a still taken from one of the security cameras. At night, judging from the grey filter. It was still bright enough, however, for me to make out the grassy front of a bungalow. Bushes and shrubs lined the far end. A dark figure loomed over them, casting a long shadow.
I shivered once more.
I had walked into the bushes hundreds, if not thousands, of times. I knew how dense they could be - reaching up to your chests in many places. That figure - standing on two legs with long arms drooping at its side - barely had its knees covered by the shrubs. The photo, even though grainy, was clear enough for me to make out a domed head resting upon a neck so thick the figure might as well be said to lack one. Matching broad shoulders held up that neck, deltoids bulging. The… thing, apparently, had little hair as far as I could see.
I did not notice how hard I had clenched my jaws until a cramp-like pain made me grunt. Matthew could not be fucking with me, could he? I had worked with the guy for years. I called the local police station. The woman on the other end confirmed it. Unless a whole station was in on the prank with Matthew - an idea equally impossible as what I was seeing - it seemed like we had won the reverse lottery of missing and dead people cases.
As much as the Internet likes to make fun of its deadly wildlife, most of Australia has no large land predators. Dingoes are pretty much your average dog. The huge crocs live way too far to the north and sharks do not magically appear in the middle of bushlands. Neither looked like some psychopathic, cannibalistic basketball player wearing a shaved-clean, badly proportioned gorilla suit. The police’s best option was us, I could tell, but as far as me and Matthew went, we were equally clueless.
I shook my head and rubbed my temples - for a moment questioning my sense of reality. That was until an alert jabbed into the screen of my desktop. Matthew’s email.
Here is the footage, Tom. Crazy stuff. I got them to send us a scan of Madeleine’s journal, too. Found where those kids were seen last.
An unholy amount of files came in a link he attached.
The rest of my day was spent going through them all. I still know not what to make of what I saw, and I need time to collect myself before I can write of what I have seen on those tapes.
I need a nap. And dinner. But no meat. I agree with Matthew. As much as I loved a nice scotch fillet, I’m probably going vegan for a while.
2024.05.16 12:02 No_Recover3334 Meat aversion
I've never been a big meat eater (former vegan) but I could tolerate chicken- whelp not anymore the texture and taste make me want to 🤢 Another thing that does NOT settle well on my gut;gluten free pizza. I wanted to die from the pain it caused. Lesson learned.
submitted by No_Recover3334 to liraglutide [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 12:01 tung0310 The Argument Against Fruits and Vegetables: A Closer Look
Some health-conscious individuals, particularly those following carnivore or heavily meat-based diets, argue that plants produce toxins to protect themselves. Therefore, they claim, consuming these plants introduces harmful substances into our bodies, potentially leading to severe allergic reactions or impacting biological processes.
Understanding Natural Toxins in Fruits and Vegetables Indeed, most fruits and vegetables contain certain natural toxins as their defense mechanism against pests and harsh external factors. However, these naturally occurring toxins don't always effectively deter insects. For instance, wild tomatoes often have more pests than those grown in gardens.
The Beneficial Compounds in Plants Plants contain polyphenols and carotenoids, which protect them against ultraviolet radiation and pathogens. These compounds also have unmatched antioxidant properties, along with other health benefits. Eating these plants brings these protective and healthy properties to our diet, supported by countless studies.
Human Physiology and Toxin Sensitivity From a physical perspective, humans are much larger than insects. The quantity of toxins that affects insects is unlikely to impact our bodies significantly.
Natural Toxins Found in Fruits and Vegetables Plants produce a remarkable array of enzymes used to create complex chemical compounds for defense against pathogens and animals. These are known as "specializing compounds." Without these compounds, plants would quickly be consumed by insects, herbivores, and humans.
These harmful potential toxins are found in roots, tubers, stems, fruits, buds, and leaves. Indeed, in sufficient quantities, these toxins can cause significant harm or discomfort to humans, entering the body through inhalation, ingestion, or direct contact.
Here’s a breakdown of some natural toxins and how they might affect us:
Toxin: 𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 Foods: Potatoes, eggplants, coffee beans, tea leaves. How they harm: Alkaloids are organic compounds derived from amino acids, mostly with strong physiological effects. They often affect the central nervous system, and some can damage the liver by obstructing blood microvessels.
Toxin: 𝐆𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 Foods: Lima beans, soybean hulls, flax seeds, bamboo shoots, apricots, and almonds. How they harm: Glycosides have several annoying groups. One type, cyanogen glycoside, attaches to mitochondria's cytochrome and blocks the electron transport chain, leading to comas. Another, cardiac glycosides, inhibit an enzyme controlling heart rhythm.
Toxin: Protein Toxin Foods: Castor beans, abrin, white snakeroot. How they harm: Protein toxins can enter cells and prevent them from producing essential proteins.
Toxin: Oxalates Foods: Spinach, soybeans, various beans, potatoes. How they harm: Oxalates contain crystals that can irritate the skin, mouth, tongue, and throat, potentially leading to breathing difficulties, pain, and stomach aches. Oxalates can also bind with calcium, leading to severe hypotension and muscle spasms (tetany).
Toxin: 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈-𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐒 Foods: Horsetails, Bracken (fern family), Cinnamon, Mexican vanilla, tonka beans, strawberries, apricots. How they harm: Anti-vitamins are toxins that work against vitamins in the body. Coumarin, found in significant amounts in cinnamon, breaks down vitamin K, while Horsetail and Bracken conflict with thiamine.
Toxin: 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐒 Foods: Parsley, celery root... How they harm: Furocoumarins can cause digestive issues in some individuals. They are also phototoxic, meaning they can cause severe skin reactions when exposed to sunlight.
Toxin: 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐒 Foods: Various beans (kidney, peanuts...), grains. How they harm: They can cause stomach pain, vomiting, and diarrhea.
Conclusion While it's important to be aware of these natural toxins, the benefits of consuming a varied diet rich in fruits and vegetables typically outweigh the risks for most people. The toxins in typical serving sizes are generally well below the harmful levels, and many of these substances can be reduced or eliminated through cooking.
Adopting a balanced diet, considering both the protective compounds and potential toxins in plants, is key to optimizing health.
https://youtube.com/shorts/1aRZD8vVbQI?feature=share
#HealthyEating #NutritionFacts #FoodSafety #PlantBased #ToxinsInFood #DietAndHealth #NaturalToxins #FruitsAndVeggies #HealthAwareness #FoodScience
submitted by tung0310 to fitnessschool [link] [comments]
Understanding Natural Toxins in Fruits and Vegetables Indeed, most fruits and vegetables contain certain natural toxins as their defense mechanism against pests and harsh external factors. However, these naturally occurring toxins don't always effectively deter insects. For instance, wild tomatoes often have more pests than those grown in gardens.
The Beneficial Compounds in Plants Plants contain polyphenols and carotenoids, which protect them against ultraviolet radiation and pathogens. These compounds also have unmatched antioxidant properties, along with other health benefits. Eating these plants brings these protective and healthy properties to our diet, supported by countless studies.
Human Physiology and Toxin Sensitivity From a physical perspective, humans are much larger than insects. The quantity of toxins that affects insects is unlikely to impact our bodies significantly.
Natural Toxins Found in Fruits and Vegetables Plants produce a remarkable array of enzymes used to create complex chemical compounds for defense against pathogens and animals. These are known as "specializing compounds." Without these compounds, plants would quickly be consumed by insects, herbivores, and humans.
These harmful potential toxins are found in roots, tubers, stems, fruits, buds, and leaves. Indeed, in sufficient quantities, these toxins can cause significant harm or discomfort to humans, entering the body through inhalation, ingestion, or direct contact.
Here’s a breakdown of some natural toxins and how they might affect us:
Toxin: 𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 Foods: Potatoes, eggplants, coffee beans, tea leaves. How they harm: Alkaloids are organic compounds derived from amino acids, mostly with strong physiological effects. They often affect the central nervous system, and some can damage the liver by obstructing blood microvessels.
Toxin: 𝐆𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 Foods: Lima beans, soybean hulls, flax seeds, bamboo shoots, apricots, and almonds. How they harm: Glycosides have several annoying groups. One type, cyanogen glycoside, attaches to mitochondria's cytochrome and blocks the electron transport chain, leading to comas. Another, cardiac glycosides, inhibit an enzyme controlling heart rhythm.
Toxin: Protein Toxin Foods: Castor beans, abrin, white snakeroot. How they harm: Protein toxins can enter cells and prevent them from producing essential proteins.
Toxin: Oxalates Foods: Spinach, soybeans, various beans, potatoes. How they harm: Oxalates contain crystals that can irritate the skin, mouth, tongue, and throat, potentially leading to breathing difficulties, pain, and stomach aches. Oxalates can also bind with calcium, leading to severe hypotension and muscle spasms (tetany).
Toxin: 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈-𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐒 Foods: Horsetails, Bracken (fern family), Cinnamon, Mexican vanilla, tonka beans, strawberries, apricots. How they harm: Anti-vitamins are toxins that work against vitamins in the body. Coumarin, found in significant amounts in cinnamon, breaks down vitamin K, while Horsetail and Bracken conflict with thiamine.
Toxin: 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐒 Foods: Parsley, celery root... How they harm: Furocoumarins can cause digestive issues in some individuals. They are also phototoxic, meaning they can cause severe skin reactions when exposed to sunlight.
Toxin: 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐒 Foods: Various beans (kidney, peanuts...), grains. How they harm: They can cause stomach pain, vomiting, and diarrhea.
Conclusion While it's important to be aware of these natural toxins, the benefits of consuming a varied diet rich in fruits and vegetables typically outweigh the risks for most people. The toxins in typical serving sizes are generally well below the harmful levels, and many of these substances can be reduced or eliminated through cooking.
Adopting a balanced diet, considering both the protective compounds and potential toxins in plants, is key to optimizing health.
https://youtube.com/shorts/1aRZD8vVbQI?feature=share
#HealthyEating #NutritionFacts #FoodSafety #PlantBased #ToxinsInFood #DietAndHealth #NaturalToxins #FruitsAndVeggies #HealthAwareness #FoodScience
2024.05.16 11:40 Agreeable-Ad4806 Exploration of Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra Part 3
I ran out of room on my last post, so this is just going to be a continuation of that. This is Vedic astrology once again.
Yoni
Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra is associated with the male lion yoni. Together with the pillar of light as one of its symbols, this brings to mind the story of Lord Narasimha, who was an incarnation of Lord Vishnu as a part-lion avatar, where he destroyed the duality of worldy-mindliness represented by Hiranyakashipu. This of course relates to Purva Bhadrapada's nature of protection of innocence and the oncoming destruction of duality. Lions are known for their majestic presence and commanding strength in the animal kingdom, qualities that mirror the dominant and regal nature of individuals born under this nakshatra. The male lion yoni symbolizes a potent and assertive approach to sexuality, illuminating the primal instincts and intense desires of Purva Bhadrapada natives. Similar to the bold and authoritative demeanor of a lion, these individuals may exhibit a confident and passionate attitude in their sexual encounters, embracing intimacy with fervor and intensity. Purva Bhadrapada natives are often loyal, attractive, forgiving, and faithful partners, embodying the noble virtues associated with the lion yoni. There is also a connection between Purva Bhadrapada and homosexuality, which is echoed in the behavior of lions to frequently engage in same-sex relationship and mating behavior. The diversity of sexual expressions within the animal kingdom, mirroring the complexity and fluidity of human sexuality observed among Purva Bhadrapada natives is apparent here. That said, there can be a tendency to be overly sexual, as lions are known to mate up to 50 times in a 24-hour period when the females are in heat. And despite being painful for the female lion due to the barbs on the male lions genitals, that does not stop them from harassing the males for sex when they cannot keep up with their demands. Beyond their sexual nature, the lion yoni offers insights into the fundamental characteristics that shape compatibility in relationships for Purva Bhadrapada individuals. Lions are typically known for their social structure, where they live in prides led by a dominant male, with females doing most of the work in terms of hunting and caring for the young. Male lions are often portrayed as gentle and lazy, preferring to conserve their energy for crucial moments of challenge from another male, while female lions are more continuously aggressive and assertive, taking on the role of primary hunters and protectors of the pride. In the context of Purva Bhadrapada individuals, this dynamic may manifest in their views on relationships and interpersonal dynamics. Like male lions, they may view others' children as adversaries, striving to maintain their dominance and authority over a given territory. Women of this Nakshatra will behave more like female lions though, even though the yoni as a whole is of the Male lion. The yoni counterpart to this asterism is the female lion of Dhanishta.
Deciding Attributes
Activity – Nakshatras are categorized into three main modes of activity based on their inherent qualities: passive, active, and balanced. These classifications provide insights into the fundamental nature and functioning of each Nakshatra, influencing its manifestation. Passive Nakshatras are characterized by a receptive and introspective nature, expressing themselves internally. They tend to be more attuned to their surroundings, absorbing energy and stimuli from their environment. Individuals born under passive Nakshatras may exhibit traits such as sensitivity, intuition, idealism, and emotional depth. They often possess a natural ability to empathize with others and may excel in creative or spiritual pursuits that require reflection. On the other hand, active Nakshatras are dynamic and assertive. They are proactive and initiative-taking, inclined towards external expression of action like the naming suggests. Individuals born under active Nakshatras may display traits such as courage and a strong drive of pursuit. They are often motivated to pursue their goals with determination and may excel in leadership roles or competitive endeavors. Balanced Nakshatras exhibit a combination of both passive and active qualities, allowing them to adapt their behavior and approach according to the demands of the situation. Individuals born under balanced Nakshatras may possess a versatile nature, capable of both receptivity and initiative as circumstances require. They are adept at finding a harmonious medium between action and reflection. Purva Bhadrapada is a passive Nakshatra and does not rush into things.
Gender – Purva Bhadrapada is a masculine Nakshatra. This Nakshatra projects the qualities described as masculine by the sages, such as enthusiasm, logic, and initiation. This nakshatra is also in association with male planets like Jupiter and Saturn.
Direction – Purva bhadrapada's main directions are West and South East. Its looking direction is downward. Westward activities, such as introspection, meditation, and spiritual practices, are considered auspicious, as they align with the nakshatra's inward-focused energy and journey towards spiritual enlightenment. Conversely, Southeast-facing endeavors, like material pursuits, worldly ambitions, and external engagements, may be less favorable, as they distract from the nakshatra's path of inner growth and self-discovery. The downward looking direction further emphasizes the importance of grounding and introspection, guiding individuals towards activities that foster inner peace, wisdom, and spiritual fulfillment.
Tendency – Creation (as opposed to maintenance or dissolution)
Nadi – Like Ashwini, Purva Bhadrapada's nadi dosha is Aadi nadi and is related to Vaata, indicating flow of energyt from top to bottom. This nadi dosha can lead to problems with anxiety, controversy, divorce, and matters related to children.
Overall Auspicious activities – Purva Bahdrapada is good for activities that are difficult or impossible to reverse, such as argument, violent or destructive tasks, meat selling, battles, legal proceedings, weapons handling, aggressive behavior, risky activities and investments, endings and completions, dealing with death-related matters like funerals, removal of obstacles, terminating relationships, demolitions, handling waste, rituals to remove obstacles, occult practices, meditation, group ceremonies, technology-related tasks, and agricultural matters.
Overall Inauspicious activities – Purva Bhadrapada is not good for activities that require stability and peace, such as travelling, sexual intercourse, marriage ceremonies, negotiations, reconciliations, initiating things, establishing new relationships, beginning journeys, farming or gardening, creative endeavors, childbirth, religious ceremonies focused on positivity, dealing with authority, and generally any activity requiring patience or a gentle hand.
Capacity – Purva Bhadrapada is Ugra, meaning fierce or intense. Ugra nakshatras are characterized by their aggressive and forceful nature. The energy of Purva Bhadrapada can be both destructive and transformative. This nakshatra is associated with breaking down old structures to make way for new growth. Ugra nakshatras are suitable for activities requiring fire, destruction, excessive force, and challenging enemies. They are also support activities such as tantric practices, shamanistic rituals, and other forms of deep spiritual work, with Purva Bhadrapada having the most power to cause transformations overall.
Professions – Purva Bhadrapada is associated with careers such as business administration, occupations related to death, medicine and healing (especially those related to death or geriatrics), psychology and psychiatry careers (especially those relating to asylums or loss of mental faculties like insanity or cognitive degeneration), research jobs, teaching and higher education, visionary or fanatical work like a social rights activism or terrorism, occultism and black magic, the darker side of the government/ruling elite, the darker side of the entertainment industry like pornography or scandals, weapon makers and users, soldiers and homicide forces, dark technologies, religious ascetics and monks, metal industry jobs, occupations related to the use of fire, enemies and protectors of the environment, jobs related to pharmaceuticals, and occupations that require total secrecy like illegal activities and those that require high standing for authorization. As a personal observation, I also tend to see them quite a bit in the entertainment industry as creative artists of music, media, and fashion. Their creations are usually quite popular, even though they can be a bit more dark.
Tattva – Purva Bhadrapada's overall tattva is Akasha (Ether), but is it also closely linked to Agni or fire. Akasha represents the vast, boundless nature of space. With this being the predominant Tattva, natives of this nakshatra have a tendency to look beyond the immediate or the mundane, choosing to look for the truth of reality themselves. As the element of Ether is associated with the vastness of the cosmos and the unseen realms, Purva Bhadrapada natives often have strong spiritual and mystical inclinations. They may be drawn to esoteric knowledge, occult practices, and metaphysical exploration. Connecting with sound, Ether is also the element communication. This is not practical communication though; it is more spiritual and implicit communication, where the knowledge of the universe is echoed through everything. Individuals born under Purva Bhadrapada possess an ability to communicate things without saying them. They can just kind of send out information that others attuned to them and this level of existence will be able to pick up on with little effort.
Ayurvedic connections – In Ayurveda, each individual is said to be born with a unique combination of the three doshas, known as their primary constitution or Prakriti. Like Ashwini, Purva Bhadrapada is connected to Vaata dosha, primarily being connected to the knees and the top portions of the feet. Knees are the body parts which provide us the capacity for walking and quick forward movement, such as with running and jumping. Vaata carries a moveable energy as it is said to govern movement and is associated with qualities like dryness, coldness, lightness, and variability. According to ayurveda, doshas out of balance will lead to poor health and disease. When in harmony, Vaata will provide creativity and enthusiasm, flexibility and adaptability, clear and agile thinking, healthy digestion and regular elimination, sound sleep, stable energy levels throughout the day, an overall sense of well-being and vitality, a lean physique with proportionate features, graceful movements, a healthy and clear complexion, strong and flexible joints and muscles, normal and healthy body temperature and circulation. When out of balance, the effect of Vaata can lead to anxiety, nervousness, uncontrollable restlessness, insomnia and disturbed sleep, digestive issues, dry as well as rough/cracked skin, fatigue/inconsistent energy levels, joint stiffness or pain, forgetfulness and difficulty concentrating, irregular appetite, emotional instability, sensitivity to the cold or windy weather, weight loss, brittle hair and nails, excessive movement or hyper speech, confusion, fear, tremors, and weakening muscles.
Shakti – The Yajamana Udyamana Shakti of Purva Bhadrapada manifests as a dual force, intertwining the energies of sacrifice and grand endeavors to uplift society. On one hand, this Shakti empowers individuals to engage in acts of selfless sacrifice, dedicating themselves to the betterment of society and the advancement of spiritual growth. Their willingness to make personal sacrifices for the greater good serves as a beacon of inspiration, illuminating the path towards collective upliftment and enlightenment. However, the promise of swift manifestation and profound transformation also carries inherent dangers and consequences, including unintended outcomes. They can lose their way by fixating on power and control. Overall, this Shakti gives a natural inclination towards leadership and innovation. When associated with this nakshatra, it gives these natives the capacity to envision bold initiatives and possess the drive and determination to see them through to fruition. Whether it's spearheading social reforms, pioneering scientific breakthroughs, or initiating large-scale efforts, these individuals are drawn to endeavors that have a lasting impact on the world. Moreover, this Shakti gives individuals the ability to inspire and motivate others to join them in their quest. Their pwerful presence and persuasive abilities enable them to rally support and build coalitions, creating a ripple effect that amplifies the reach and impact of their actions. They are amplifiers for change, igniting passion and purpose in those around them and mobilizing collective action towards a shared vision
submitted by Agreeable-Ad4806 to Advancedastrology [link] [comments]
Yoni
Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra is associated with the male lion yoni. Together with the pillar of light as one of its symbols, this brings to mind the story of Lord Narasimha, who was an incarnation of Lord Vishnu as a part-lion avatar, where he destroyed the duality of worldy-mindliness represented by Hiranyakashipu. This of course relates to Purva Bhadrapada's nature of protection of innocence and the oncoming destruction of duality. Lions are known for their majestic presence and commanding strength in the animal kingdom, qualities that mirror the dominant and regal nature of individuals born under this nakshatra. The male lion yoni symbolizes a potent and assertive approach to sexuality, illuminating the primal instincts and intense desires of Purva Bhadrapada natives. Similar to the bold and authoritative demeanor of a lion, these individuals may exhibit a confident and passionate attitude in their sexual encounters, embracing intimacy with fervor and intensity. Purva Bhadrapada natives are often loyal, attractive, forgiving, and faithful partners, embodying the noble virtues associated with the lion yoni. There is also a connection between Purva Bhadrapada and homosexuality, which is echoed in the behavior of lions to frequently engage in same-sex relationship and mating behavior. The diversity of sexual expressions within the animal kingdom, mirroring the complexity and fluidity of human sexuality observed among Purva Bhadrapada natives is apparent here. That said, there can be a tendency to be overly sexual, as lions are known to mate up to 50 times in a 24-hour period when the females are in heat. And despite being painful for the female lion due to the barbs on the male lions genitals, that does not stop them from harassing the males for sex when they cannot keep up with their demands. Beyond their sexual nature, the lion yoni offers insights into the fundamental characteristics that shape compatibility in relationships for Purva Bhadrapada individuals. Lions are typically known for their social structure, where they live in prides led by a dominant male, with females doing most of the work in terms of hunting and caring for the young. Male lions are often portrayed as gentle and lazy, preferring to conserve their energy for crucial moments of challenge from another male, while female lions are more continuously aggressive and assertive, taking on the role of primary hunters and protectors of the pride. In the context of Purva Bhadrapada individuals, this dynamic may manifest in their views on relationships and interpersonal dynamics. Like male lions, they may view others' children as adversaries, striving to maintain their dominance and authority over a given territory. Women of this Nakshatra will behave more like female lions though, even though the yoni as a whole is of the Male lion. The yoni counterpart to this asterism is the female lion of Dhanishta.
Deciding Attributes
Activity – Nakshatras are categorized into three main modes of activity based on their inherent qualities: passive, active, and balanced. These classifications provide insights into the fundamental nature and functioning of each Nakshatra, influencing its manifestation. Passive Nakshatras are characterized by a receptive and introspective nature, expressing themselves internally. They tend to be more attuned to their surroundings, absorbing energy and stimuli from their environment. Individuals born under passive Nakshatras may exhibit traits such as sensitivity, intuition, idealism, and emotional depth. They often possess a natural ability to empathize with others and may excel in creative or spiritual pursuits that require reflection. On the other hand, active Nakshatras are dynamic and assertive. They are proactive and initiative-taking, inclined towards external expression of action like the naming suggests. Individuals born under active Nakshatras may display traits such as courage and a strong drive of pursuit. They are often motivated to pursue their goals with determination and may excel in leadership roles or competitive endeavors. Balanced Nakshatras exhibit a combination of both passive and active qualities, allowing them to adapt their behavior and approach according to the demands of the situation. Individuals born under balanced Nakshatras may possess a versatile nature, capable of both receptivity and initiative as circumstances require. They are adept at finding a harmonious medium between action and reflection. Purva Bhadrapada is a passive Nakshatra and does not rush into things.
Gender – Purva Bhadrapada is a masculine Nakshatra. This Nakshatra projects the qualities described as masculine by the sages, such as enthusiasm, logic, and initiation. This nakshatra is also in association with male planets like Jupiter and Saturn.
Direction – Purva bhadrapada's main directions are West and South East. Its looking direction is downward. Westward activities, such as introspection, meditation, and spiritual practices, are considered auspicious, as they align with the nakshatra's inward-focused energy and journey towards spiritual enlightenment. Conversely, Southeast-facing endeavors, like material pursuits, worldly ambitions, and external engagements, may be less favorable, as they distract from the nakshatra's path of inner growth and self-discovery. The downward looking direction further emphasizes the importance of grounding and introspection, guiding individuals towards activities that foster inner peace, wisdom, and spiritual fulfillment.
Tendency – Creation (as opposed to maintenance or dissolution)
Nadi – Like Ashwini, Purva Bhadrapada's nadi dosha is Aadi nadi and is related to Vaata, indicating flow of energyt from top to bottom. This nadi dosha can lead to problems with anxiety, controversy, divorce, and matters related to children.
Overall Auspicious activities – Purva Bahdrapada is good for activities that are difficult or impossible to reverse, such as argument, violent or destructive tasks, meat selling, battles, legal proceedings, weapons handling, aggressive behavior, risky activities and investments, endings and completions, dealing with death-related matters like funerals, removal of obstacles, terminating relationships, demolitions, handling waste, rituals to remove obstacles, occult practices, meditation, group ceremonies, technology-related tasks, and agricultural matters.
Overall Inauspicious activities – Purva Bhadrapada is not good for activities that require stability and peace, such as travelling, sexual intercourse, marriage ceremonies, negotiations, reconciliations, initiating things, establishing new relationships, beginning journeys, farming or gardening, creative endeavors, childbirth, religious ceremonies focused on positivity, dealing with authority, and generally any activity requiring patience or a gentle hand.
Capacity – Purva Bhadrapada is Ugra, meaning fierce or intense. Ugra nakshatras are characterized by their aggressive and forceful nature. The energy of Purva Bhadrapada can be both destructive and transformative. This nakshatra is associated with breaking down old structures to make way for new growth. Ugra nakshatras are suitable for activities requiring fire, destruction, excessive force, and challenging enemies. They are also support activities such as tantric practices, shamanistic rituals, and other forms of deep spiritual work, with Purva Bhadrapada having the most power to cause transformations overall.
Professions – Purva Bhadrapada is associated with careers such as business administration, occupations related to death, medicine and healing (especially those related to death or geriatrics), psychology and psychiatry careers (especially those relating to asylums or loss of mental faculties like insanity or cognitive degeneration), research jobs, teaching and higher education, visionary or fanatical work like a social rights activism or terrorism, occultism and black magic, the darker side of the government/ruling elite, the darker side of the entertainment industry like pornography or scandals, weapon makers and users, soldiers and homicide forces, dark technologies, religious ascetics and monks, metal industry jobs, occupations related to the use of fire, enemies and protectors of the environment, jobs related to pharmaceuticals, and occupations that require total secrecy like illegal activities and those that require high standing for authorization. As a personal observation, I also tend to see them quite a bit in the entertainment industry as creative artists of music, media, and fashion. Their creations are usually quite popular, even though they can be a bit more dark.
Tattva – Purva Bhadrapada's overall tattva is Akasha (Ether), but is it also closely linked to Agni or fire. Akasha represents the vast, boundless nature of space. With this being the predominant Tattva, natives of this nakshatra have a tendency to look beyond the immediate or the mundane, choosing to look for the truth of reality themselves. As the element of Ether is associated with the vastness of the cosmos and the unseen realms, Purva Bhadrapada natives often have strong spiritual and mystical inclinations. They may be drawn to esoteric knowledge, occult practices, and metaphysical exploration. Connecting with sound, Ether is also the element communication. This is not practical communication though; it is more spiritual and implicit communication, where the knowledge of the universe is echoed through everything. Individuals born under Purva Bhadrapada possess an ability to communicate things without saying them. They can just kind of send out information that others attuned to them and this level of existence will be able to pick up on with little effort.
Ayurvedic connections – In Ayurveda, each individual is said to be born with a unique combination of the three doshas, known as their primary constitution or Prakriti. Like Ashwini, Purva Bhadrapada is connected to Vaata dosha, primarily being connected to the knees and the top portions of the feet. Knees are the body parts which provide us the capacity for walking and quick forward movement, such as with running and jumping. Vaata carries a moveable energy as it is said to govern movement and is associated with qualities like dryness, coldness, lightness, and variability. According to ayurveda, doshas out of balance will lead to poor health and disease. When in harmony, Vaata will provide creativity and enthusiasm, flexibility and adaptability, clear and agile thinking, healthy digestion and regular elimination, sound sleep, stable energy levels throughout the day, an overall sense of well-being and vitality, a lean physique with proportionate features, graceful movements, a healthy and clear complexion, strong and flexible joints and muscles, normal and healthy body temperature and circulation. When out of balance, the effect of Vaata can lead to anxiety, nervousness, uncontrollable restlessness, insomnia and disturbed sleep, digestive issues, dry as well as rough/cracked skin, fatigue/inconsistent energy levels, joint stiffness or pain, forgetfulness and difficulty concentrating, irregular appetite, emotional instability, sensitivity to the cold or windy weather, weight loss, brittle hair and nails, excessive movement or hyper speech, confusion, fear, tremors, and weakening muscles.
Shakti – The Yajamana Udyamana Shakti of Purva Bhadrapada manifests as a dual force, intertwining the energies of sacrifice and grand endeavors to uplift society. On one hand, this Shakti empowers individuals to engage in acts of selfless sacrifice, dedicating themselves to the betterment of society and the advancement of spiritual growth. Their willingness to make personal sacrifices for the greater good serves as a beacon of inspiration, illuminating the path towards collective upliftment and enlightenment. However, the promise of swift manifestation and profound transformation also carries inherent dangers and consequences, including unintended outcomes. They can lose their way by fixating on power and control. Overall, this Shakti gives a natural inclination towards leadership and innovation. When associated with this nakshatra, it gives these natives the capacity to envision bold initiatives and possess the drive and determination to see them through to fruition. Whether it's spearheading social reforms, pioneering scientific breakthroughs, or initiating large-scale efforts, these individuals are drawn to endeavors that have a lasting impact on the world. Moreover, this Shakti gives individuals the ability to inspire and motivate others to join them in their quest. Their pwerful presence and persuasive abilities enable them to rally support and build coalitions, creating a ripple effect that amplifies the reach and impact of their actions. They are amplifiers for change, igniting passion and purpose in those around them and mobilizing collective action towards a shared vision
2024.05.16 11:13 Swingfire The AMT class from hell [LONGPOST]
Chapter I: The Covid 727
The school let its aircraft (727-200 cargo) rust out on the tarmac for multiple years (starting with the covid lockdown) without activating anything or mothballing it properly so all the systems died. Originally half the coursework was going to be practical and on the plane, and the big showcase final exercise was to jack it up, turn on hydraulics via GPU, extend/retract the LG and take a photo of the class all smiling and ready to go to the internships. In the cafeteria wall here's still the photos of the classes from before 2020 in their work overalls smiling with their teacher. These photos were what the school used for recruiting. Look at all these students lifting a plane off the ground through the power of teamwork, this could be you! They only stopped using that to recruit recently for reasons that will become apparent.
Now we had no practical courses at all for the entire two years since going on inside is a danger from all the black mold that's covered the plane and the fumes from the clapped-out hydraulic and fuel system. Of course, having a rusted-out hulk and giving your students no practice might go against 147 rules so the EASA auditor told them to get that wreckage off the tarmac or else.
Chapter II: Else:
My country has no aircraft dismantling organizations and flying them in for a job is expensive, so the school figured out a great way to hit two birds with one stone in a traditional Belgian style: slavery. They opened up a brand new course on aircraft dismantling, to be headed by the one poor teacher who is actually licensed to take apart aircraft, helming a "crew" of high school graduates and job-seekers. It was a shitshow and every time the teacher looked away there was someone taking an angle grinder to a titanium part or sawing off a piece of fuselage directly above them. Naturally they did not manage to dismantle the plane but at least the teacher did manage to stop anyone from hurting themselves and he neatly removed all the useful/sensitive components like the instruments, radios and radar.
But in the end they did worse than not doing anything at all, really, since they turned an (at least plane-shaped) wreck into a giant pile of bullshit, and the school is right next to the local international airport's taxiway -that's how the 727 arrived- so every RyanAir is sent off with a nice view of an exploded 727-200 right before takeoff. Happy flying!
So EASA catches wind of Baby's First Slavery Aircraft Dismantling Company and comes down hard on the school and takes away their Part 147 license until they get their shit together (as a side note this is where I rejoined the school to upgrade my Part 66 from A to B1/B2). EASA said no more slavery, so the teacher has to work alone and do full-time weekends sawing this plane apart bit by bit. Dude is in his late 50s and comes every monday to give us 8 hours of M11 for a week straight looking like his skeleton is made of pain. I gotta point out the slavery wasn't his idea, he was just put in charge of it, and I admire him for putting up with so much crap to bail the school out.
Chapter III: It gets worse:
So without EASA's approval, our school is in fact not a school, and legally it's more of a homeless shelter where people gather together to listen to the wise ones give factoids about the 737 and A320. The problem with this is the school receives huge subsidies from the the government and the Air Force for personnel retraining and was already in hot water for their 70%+ failure rate which is somehow higher than a 5-year course in law, engineering or medicine from the universities. Now with their Part 147 approval gone the school was about to serve up a never-seen before 100% failure rate across four AMT classes (two Part-66 A, one Part-66 B and one EMAR-66) and vaporize over a million euros worth of subsidies with nothing to show for it.
Desperate times call for dumb measures, so our school administration rang up a French AMT school with their new genius plan. For a week, our school will officially cosplay as theirs, their teachers come over and make us pass exams, then they go back to France. Of course, the exams will be based on their syllabi, not ours, and we had no access to their syllabus at all until halfway done with our courses. But you know what's cheaper than hiring French teachers for two weeks to make us pass exams? That's right, hiring them for four days and compressing the entire exams session into 4 days, from 8AM to 4PM, with sometimes 4-5 exams per day. The director came to give us some encouraging words like "try to pass half of them lol".
Chapter IV: The Future:
There is a fourth class which I hadn't mentioned before, which is comprised entirely of people from the Air Force. As a requirement for going up in rank, they were sent here to get an EASA-66 license and some extra courses (about weaponry and radar magic, etc.) to get the EMAR-66 on top of it and become proper technicians. They presented their exams ahead of us and word is that they all failed so now the Air Force is also coming down with the hammer on the school that froze its entire ground crew training pipeline. And since these people were already support crew, we have no chance in hell.
The 727 wreckage is still on the tarmac. Supposedly it will be replaced by an ERJ-190, but that's what they've been saying since I signed up, the 190 is nowhere to be seen and I'm 50/50 on whether it exists at all. Even if it does, it's practically guaranteed to end up like the 727 in a few years since nothing has structurally changed.
Exams Begin next tuesday. Wish me luck! And take the train whenever possible.
submitted by Swingfire to aviationmaintenance [link] [comments]
The school let its aircraft (727-200 cargo) rust out on the tarmac for multiple years (starting with the covid lockdown) without activating anything or mothballing it properly so all the systems died. Originally half the coursework was going to be practical and on the plane, and the big showcase final exercise was to jack it up, turn on hydraulics via GPU, extend/retract the LG and take a photo of the class all smiling and ready to go to the internships. In the cafeteria wall here's still the photos of the classes from before 2020 in their work overalls smiling with their teacher. These photos were what the school used for recruiting. Look at all these students lifting a plane off the ground through the power of teamwork, this could be you! They only stopped using that to recruit recently for reasons that will become apparent.
Now we had no practical courses at all for the entire two years since going on inside is a danger from all the black mold that's covered the plane and the fumes from the clapped-out hydraulic and fuel system. Of course, having a rusted-out hulk and giving your students no practice might go against 147 rules so the EASA auditor told them to get that wreckage off the tarmac or else.
Chapter II: Else:
My country has no aircraft dismantling organizations and flying them in for a job is expensive, so the school figured out a great way to hit two birds with one stone in a traditional Belgian style: slavery. They opened up a brand new course on aircraft dismantling, to be headed by the one poor teacher who is actually licensed to take apart aircraft, helming a "crew" of high school graduates and job-seekers. It was a shitshow and every time the teacher looked away there was someone taking an angle grinder to a titanium part or sawing off a piece of fuselage directly above them. Naturally they did not manage to dismantle the plane but at least the teacher did manage to stop anyone from hurting themselves and he neatly removed all the useful/sensitive components like the instruments, radios and radar.
But in the end they did worse than not doing anything at all, really, since they turned an (at least plane-shaped) wreck into a giant pile of bullshit, and the school is right next to the local international airport's taxiway -that's how the 727 arrived- so every RyanAir is sent off with a nice view of an exploded 727-200 right before takeoff. Happy flying!
So EASA catches wind of Baby's First Slavery Aircraft Dismantling Company and comes down hard on the school and takes away their Part 147 license until they get their shit together (as a side note this is where I rejoined the school to upgrade my Part 66 from A to B1/B2). EASA said no more slavery, so the teacher has to work alone and do full-time weekends sawing this plane apart bit by bit. Dude is in his late 50s and comes every monday to give us 8 hours of M11 for a week straight looking like his skeleton is made of pain. I gotta point out the slavery wasn't his idea, he was just put in charge of it, and I admire him for putting up with so much crap to bail the school out.
Chapter III: It gets worse:
So without EASA's approval, our school is in fact not a school, and legally it's more of a homeless shelter where people gather together to listen to the wise ones give factoids about the 737 and A320. The problem with this is the school receives huge subsidies from the the government and the Air Force for personnel retraining and was already in hot water for their 70%+ failure rate which is somehow higher than a 5-year course in law, engineering or medicine from the universities. Now with their Part 147 approval gone the school was about to serve up a never-seen before 100% failure rate across four AMT classes (two Part-66 A, one Part-66 B and one EMAR-66) and vaporize over a million euros worth of subsidies with nothing to show for it.
Desperate times call for dumb measures, so our school administration rang up a French AMT school with their new genius plan. For a week, our school will officially cosplay as theirs, their teachers come over and make us pass exams, then they go back to France. Of course, the exams will be based on their syllabi, not ours, and we had no access to their syllabus at all until halfway done with our courses. But you know what's cheaper than hiring French teachers for two weeks to make us pass exams? That's right, hiring them for four days and compressing the entire exams session into 4 days, from 8AM to 4PM, with sometimes 4-5 exams per day. The director came to give us some encouraging words like "try to pass half of them lol".
Chapter IV: The Future:
There is a fourth class which I hadn't mentioned before, which is comprised entirely of people from the Air Force. As a requirement for going up in rank, they were sent here to get an EASA-66 license and some extra courses (about weaponry and radar magic, etc.) to get the EMAR-66 on top of it and become proper technicians. They presented their exams ahead of us and word is that they all failed so now the Air Force is also coming down with the hammer on the school that froze its entire ground crew training pipeline. And since these people were already support crew, we have no chance in hell.
The 727 wreckage is still on the tarmac. Supposedly it will be replaced by an ERJ-190, but that's what they've been saying since I signed up, the 190 is nowhere to be seen and I'm 50/50 on whether it exists at all. Even if it does, it's practically guaranteed to end up like the 727 in a few years since nothing has structurally changed.
Exams Begin next tuesday. Wish me luck! And take the train whenever possible.
2024.05.16 11:03 Master_School_3785 "SNUFFLES' JOURNEY: A TALE OF LIFE ON THE MEAT FARM” - BASED ON A TRUE STORY*
Once upon a time, in a sprawling industrial farm nestled amidst towering silos and metal fences, a little piglet named Snuffles was born. Snuffles was small and pink, with a curly tail and bright, curious eyes. From the moment he opened his eyes, Snuffles knew he was destined for greatness.Growing up in the farm, Snuffles made many friends among the other animals.
But life in the industrial farm was harsh and unforgiving. Snuffles and his friends lived in cramped, filthy pens, with barely enough space to move around. The air was thick with the stench of waste and the constant hum of machinery.Despite the harsh conditions, Snuffles tried to make the best of his life on the farm. He played in the mud with the other piglets, scavenged for scraps of food, and tried to stay out of the way of the humans who worked in the farm.
But as Snuffles grew older, he began to notice the cruelty of life in the industrial farm. Some of his friends were taken away for "processing," never to be seen again. Others were subjected to painful procedures without anesthesia, their squeals of pain echoing through the halls of the farm.
One day, Snuffles overheard the humans talking about the slaughterhouse, a place where animals went to become food for people. Terrified, Snuffles didn't know what to do. He didn't want to leave his friends or the only home he had ever known, but he also couldn't bear the thought of staying in such a cruel place.
As time went on, Snuffles watched as more and more of his friends suffered and died in the farm. He knew that his turn would come eventually, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his loved ones behind.Then, one fateful day, the humans came for Snuffles. Despite his squeals of protest and desperate struggles, he was loaded onto a truck and taken away from the farm.
The journey to the slaughterhouse was long and frightening, and Snuffles felt more alone than ever before.Finally, they arrived at the slaughterhouse, a grim, imposing building surrounded by high fences. Snuffles was herded inside with the other animals, the air thick with fear and the scent of death. As he stood in line, waiting for his fate, Snuffles closed his eyes and wished with all his heart that he could go back to the farm, back to his friends and the life he once knew.
As the line inched forward, Snuffles could hear the sounds of machinery whirring and blades clanking in the distance. With each step, his heart pounded louder in his chest, the fear gripping him tighter than ever before. And then, it was his turn. The humans forced him into a narrow chute, where he could see the end of the line—a dark, foreboding room filled with the scent of blood. Snuffles struggled and squealed, but it was no use.
In the dark room, Snuffles was met with a blinding light and he felt a jolt of electricity coursing through his body. The shock left him paralyzed, his senses dulled but still aware of the pain. Half-conscious, he could feel the cold steel against his skin as the humans worked quickly to end his life. And in those final moments, Snuffles wished for nothing more than the peace and freedom he had been denied in life.
But alas, Snuffles's story had come to an end. And though his life was short and filled with suffering, there was no happy ending for him.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/970166428075913/permalink/970173884741834/
submitted by Master_School_3785 to AnimalRightsActivism [link] [comments]
But life in the industrial farm was harsh and unforgiving. Snuffles and his friends lived in cramped, filthy pens, with barely enough space to move around. The air was thick with the stench of waste and the constant hum of machinery.Despite the harsh conditions, Snuffles tried to make the best of his life on the farm. He played in the mud with the other piglets, scavenged for scraps of food, and tried to stay out of the way of the humans who worked in the farm.
But as Snuffles grew older, he began to notice the cruelty of life in the industrial farm. Some of his friends were taken away for "processing," never to be seen again. Others were subjected to painful procedures without anesthesia, their squeals of pain echoing through the halls of the farm.
One day, Snuffles overheard the humans talking about the slaughterhouse, a place where animals went to become food for people. Terrified, Snuffles didn't know what to do. He didn't want to leave his friends or the only home he had ever known, but he also couldn't bear the thought of staying in such a cruel place.
As time went on, Snuffles watched as more and more of his friends suffered and died in the farm. He knew that his turn would come eventually, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his loved ones behind.Then, one fateful day, the humans came for Snuffles. Despite his squeals of protest and desperate struggles, he was loaded onto a truck and taken away from the farm.
The journey to the slaughterhouse was long and frightening, and Snuffles felt more alone than ever before.Finally, they arrived at the slaughterhouse, a grim, imposing building surrounded by high fences. Snuffles was herded inside with the other animals, the air thick with fear and the scent of death. As he stood in line, waiting for his fate, Snuffles closed his eyes and wished with all his heart that he could go back to the farm, back to his friends and the life he once knew.
As the line inched forward, Snuffles could hear the sounds of machinery whirring and blades clanking in the distance. With each step, his heart pounded louder in his chest, the fear gripping him tighter than ever before. And then, it was his turn. The humans forced him into a narrow chute, where he could see the end of the line—a dark, foreboding room filled with the scent of blood. Snuffles struggled and squealed, but it was no use.
In the dark room, Snuffles was met with a blinding light and he felt a jolt of electricity coursing through his body. The shock left him paralyzed, his senses dulled but still aware of the pain. Half-conscious, he could feel the cold steel against his skin as the humans worked quickly to end his life. And in those final moments, Snuffles wished for nothing more than the peace and freedom he had been denied in life.
But alas, Snuffles's story had come to an end. And though his life was short and filled with suffering, there was no happy ending for him.
THE END
\Did you know that every day, roughly 4 million little pigs just like Snuffles are taken from farms and slaughtered so that people can eat their flesh? It's important to remember that animals are living beings with feelings, just like us. By choosing to eat less meat or exploring plant-based options, we can help reduce the number of animals suffering in factory farms. Even small changes can make a big difference in the lives of animals like Snuffles.*#SnufflesJourney #FactoryFarm #AnimalCruelty #ChooseCompassion #MeatFree #AnimalRights #Vegan #SaveSnuffles #PlantBased #FactoryFarming
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