WINNER: Twila Tanner (Vanuatu - 2nd)

and it wasnt even fucking close
u/SMC0629:
Twila is an excellent character, full-stop. Although I used to have her slightly character, I never stopped loving her. She's got an excellent personality, she doesn't take shit from anyone, and her dominant run in the post-merge is so entertaining. The true centerpiece of her character is when it all comes back to bite her in the end, as she's basically torn apart by the jury. It's honestly heartbreaking, even if she takes it well, but it's still a great downfall to her character.
~
u/DryBonesKing:
Which casting director found Twila? And which producer decided to go forward with her specifically on a gender divided season? I hope everyone involved in this decision is set for life! Twila is probably always guaranteed to be a perfect casting choice every time she’s cast, but in Vanuatu, she provides so much amazing content. Like, I don’t even know where to start on this; her relationship with Scout, her feud with Elizas, the dynamic between her and Ami, her friendship with Sarge that she promptly destroyed, everything about her relationship with Chris… I could go on. Honest to god, if I were doing her writeup, I’d be concerned it would not end. She might be one of the densest characters in Survivor history when it comes to meaningful content to discuss.
For the sake of these little “condensed” write-ups, I suppose it’s mostly fitting to just focus in on the moral dilemmas she faced when it came to swearing on her son. Twila’s story could probably be best described as Faustian as she digs herself multiple holes for the bodies of the Vanuatu castaways she ruthlessly slaughters on her quest for a million dollars, only to realize she had actually been digging her own grave alongside it. Twila really helps sell the idea that the road to hell is paved in good intentions, as you truly leave the season understanding why she did everything she did for her son, but also completely understand why nearly the whole jury – from Sarge to Leann to Eliza – just want to watch her suffer.
Vanuatu is actually my mother’s favorite season and the dynamic between both Twila and Scout is my Mom’s personal favorite. One of our favorite moments in Survivor history occurs right before Final Tribal Council when Chris and Twila are laying in the hammock and it just snaps on them. And then it cuts to Twila just belly-laughing the most genuine, sincerest laugh. After literally going through hell, and right before the hell gets worse, Twila is just shown smiling and laughing and relaxing, and it’s probably one of the single most endearing moments in the show’s history. Twila has a credible claim to the most tragic tale in the show’s history, and I will always love her forever for it. Even though she is only my number five of all time, I am fully expecting her to win this Rankdown, and I’ll be very very sad if she doesn’t. Cause goddammit, she deserves it.
Overall Rank – 5/821
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u/Tommyroxs45:
Twila is a huge badass and absolutely drives so much of the conflict that Vanuatu is known for. She’s is an incredibly entertaining character and never misses with her fights with people like Mia or Eliza, which also really culminate into a great story and a downfall for Twila.
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u/Regnisyak1:
Twila, Twila, Twila. A beautiful story on Vanuatu, she quickly becomes the heart and soul of the season, with her attitude on the season and the complexity around her storyline in bonding with the women on the tribe. She was never able to fit in, so her flip felt powerful and tragic for the women on the tribe, creating a tense endgame. However, Twila and her status as a villain is centralized by the concept of her swearing on her son’s life and it affects her entire game. “I Swear” effectively ruined Twila’s game, but also her character and how people perceive her, and watching her realize she lost the million dollars over such a critical mistake leads to one of the most fascinating FTC performances.
Personal Rank: 3/821. 10/10
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u/ninjedi1:
The real queen of Survivor! Twila is clearly one of the best character's on Survivor, and is the best part of Vanautu. Her not really connecting with the women on her tribe which causes the divide, her bonding with the men at the swap only to jump ship at merge to vote with the women, and then burning them later down the line after swearing on her son, all iconic. Then her FTC is so good to watch as she has to come to terms with what she's done with the game. Twila's whole story that season is just a roller coaster I never want to get off of!
~~~~~
u/Zanthosus:
Twila is one of a kind in the best way possible. I absolutely adore everything about her. She’s one of very few “perfect” characters in the show’s history that I can really point to. There’s no part of her story that leaves me wanting or disappointed. It’s an excellently crafted narrative built around an endlessly intriguing person who is my favorite runner-up in the history of the show. And for me, the thing that really makes her stand out above so many others is the way she’s unabashedly and unapologetically herself the entire time. All too often on Survivor, you see people putting on a mask or an act. And that can be fun in its own right from time to time, but Twila is genuine through and through and she’s all the better for it in my opinion.
Twila’s personality really drives conflict throughout her Survivor journey. We see this early on in the way you’d expect. She’s a hard worker who wants to get everything done right away while most of the rest of her tribe would rather spend the first day or two resting. This isn’t anything groundbreaking. Even at this point in the show, this is pretty standard early game conflict. But it is indicative of the kind of person that Twila is, and it sets a good baseline for how she plans to play the game. That being to her own tune; she’s not playing for anyone but herself. And during these early episodes on Yasur, Twila ends up in many spats with her tribemates. Notable examples are Dolly, Mia, and of course Eliza. These “sorority girls” as she calls them get on her nerves like nothing else. These conflicts are, again, pretty standard Survivor faire. Don’t get me wrong, they’re entertaining. But it’s nothing revolutionary. In fact, that’s how I’d describe the pre-merge of Vanuatu as a whole. Good, but not particularly remarkable in any significant way. But once the merge hits, all hell breaks loose. And this is where Twila really steps into her own and becomes one of the best characters in the history of the show.
After the swap, Twila had gotten a chance to bond with a few of the guys, namely Chris and Sarge. They had bonded fairly deeply on Lopevi and had gotten close. So when the time comes for her to choose a side at Alinta inaugural tribal, she sides with the women and takes out Rory. It’s this decision that sends shockwaves through most of the cast. The men are distraught that the person they thought they could trust just betrayed them. Meanwhile many of the women are surprised that Twila is even still interested in working with them after the time she spent on Lopevi. In fact, aside from Scout and Ami, she shocks everyone with this decision. And it’s this choice that kick starts her journey through the post-merge.
The fallout from the Rory vote is incredibly TV. There’s really no other way to put it. Seeing Twila butting heads with the likes of Chris and Sarge, two people she got so close with before, is incredibly engaging. And it doesn’t bubble over into anger or rage, but rather disappointment. Seeing these two guys express sadness and wishing for what could have been with Twila as part of their numbers is a legitimately interesting thing to see unfold and it helps to add layers to both of these men that we otherwise wouldn’t have gotten the chance to see. And its in these moments that we get a bit of insight as to how Twila sees the game. She’s not letting her emotions get in the way of what she believes that she needs to do in order to make it further. In stark contrast to the older women archetype you’d expect like T-Bird or Trish Hegarty, she’s willing to make the tough decisions if it means she survives another day. Maybe the best comparison would be to Sandra and her “anyone but me” mentality, but even then Twila takes a comparatively much more hands-on and active role during the season.
Because even despite Sarge and her taking a moment to reconnect a bit, and him reiterating that he wants her as part of his and Chris’s final four alliance, Twila sticks to her guns and takes him out, continuing the Pagonging of the men. At this point, Chris has largely given up hope of repairing the bridge that Twila burned, and instead finds himself scrambling, doing whatever he can to just not be the next casualty. Whether that’s winning immunity for himself, or making another player seem like a juicier target. And initially, this isn’t too much of a tall task for him. Chad is a fairly obvious next choice for elimination. But after that, he’s the sitting duck as the final man on the island. He’s a prime candidate for an easy vote. But Twila sees an opportunity there where others don’t. You see, even despite working with the women during the post-merge, she still hasn’t been getting along all that well with either Ami or Eliza. As a result, she’s interested in making sure they’re the next two eliminated. After all, Chris is an easy vote down the line. He can just be taken out at any point that’s convenient. But Ami? She’s dangerous. She has power in the game and has started to catch wind of Twila’s distrust of her. So the solution? Ami needs to be taken down a peg. However instead of actually going all the way and taking out Ami herself, they decide to target her right-hand-woman, Leann. To Chris, this accomplishes the same thing. He’s still in the game. But for Twila, this really doesn’t accomplish what she had hoped it would.
The fallout from the Rory vote was impactful and a wake up call to much of the cast. The fallout from Leann’s elimination though is a whole other beast in and of itself. Immediately, of course, there’s the fight that occurs between Ami and Twila back at camp. But in a more broad perspective, this is showing to both the jury and her tribesmates that she’s not afraid to cut throats and burn bridges if it means getting her way. Her loyalty lasts for as long as it’s convenient for her, and that’s a scary proposition for those sitting beside her and an unflattering look to those on the jury. “You’ve been had. Get over it. Screw you.” is a quote that particularly sticks out to me, both as a hilarious quip out of context, but also in showing how Twila’s character has stayed congruent to how we saw her even at the start of the game. It’s astonishing how brazenly herself she is willing to be, even to the detriment of her own game. Maybe even more unbelievable though is how she fails to see how with every decision and statement like this, her already miniscule chances of winning dwindle more and more. Swearing on her son’s life in particular puts her in the bad graces of everyone once she breaks that promise, and that’s really just the tip of the iceberg.
And I know that this is where many detractors of Twila point to when explaining why she doesn’t work for them. “She’s way too mean-spirited and negative” is one that I hear most often as a point against her. And I do understand where that is coming from. One of my earliest writeups was talking about how Corinne’s ceaseless negativity in Gabon makes her insufferable to me. So I get why that would be a deal breaker in theory. But when it comes to Twila herself, there’s something so authentic about her that players like Corinne never manage to replicate. Twila is making these choices to further her game, and that is in line with not just her established motivations and personality, but it builds upon what we already know about her in ways that we’d otherwise be unlikely to see. Meanwhile with Corinne, it feels like she’s being cruel and nasty for the sake of it in a desperate attempt to get more screen time. So while I understand and can empathize to an extent with those who don’t find Twila to be as amazing a character as I do, I simply can’t agree. Because when all is said and done, Twila’s story is a masterpiece. And the magnum opus is the final five of Vanuatu.
Everything immediately after the Ami elimination is utter chaos. Twila and Eliza are constantly at each other’s throats, with Julie frequently joining Eliza in ridiculing and insulting Twila. Meanwhile, Chris is adamant on keeping the bond between himself, Scout, and Twila strong and steady, as that’s his only real option forward. Even if Eliza would be willing to work with him for one vote to take out Twila, he’s certain she'd immediately flip on him and take him out at four instead. After Eliza wins an important immunity, Chris decides that there’s value in letting chaos continue at camp and opts to vote for Julie, resulting in her elimination.
This final four is so fucking funny when you really think about it. You have Chris, the final guy who, realistically, should have been gone ages ago but has survived due to the women being at each other's' throats at every turn. Then there’s Eliza, the one who is seen as wholly undeserving of having even made it that far. Scout is perhaps the least intriguing of the bunch, though she herself isn’t very respected by most of the cast due to her general hands-off approach and seemingly apathetic attitude towards the game. And then there’s Twila. The one who nobody truly wants to win. Someone who has burned just about every bridge possible because she’s going to play the way she deems necessary. To those sitting on the jury, this is the worst case scenario. And it’s only going to get crazier. Because that beef between Eliza and Twila? It’s not stopping any time soon! The finale may be the crescendo of the rivalry between the two of them, but nothing truly gets resolved. By the end, they still hate each other's' guts, and that bitterness will carry into the FTC.
But before that, Twila has one last bridge to burn. You see, she wins the final immunity challenge and thus has the ability to choose whether she wants to take Scout, her constant ally throughout the game. Even if she couldn’t count on anyone else, she knew that Scout would have her back. Or, she could choose Chris. Someone that, if you asked any of the women, should have already been gone over a week ago. Someone who survived due to his ability to build relationships and keep in peoples’ good graces while Twila actively chose to do the opposite. It’s one of the starkest juxtapositions between two finalists we’ve maybe ever seen. Not just in how they got to the end, but in how their performances at FTC are so starkly different. Twila is still her same blunt self, not caring if what she says hurts feelings. She’s going to tell it as it is, and if you don’t like it, then that’s your problem. But with Chris, he’s willing to tell people exactly what they want to hear. He’ll lie to them and butter them up if it means it gives him a better chance to win. He uses those relationships he built, the very same ones that Twila refused to forge, to defeat her in a 5-2 vote. This FTC is a perfect encapsulation of Twila’s story this season. Vanuatu is a season that I have a lot of love for. The post-merge is damn near perfect, and Twila holds so much responsibility as for why that is. She’s one of few perfect characters, and is well deserving of a spot in endgame.
Well, there it is. My final writeup for Survivor Rankdown VIII. Not gonna lie, I’m kinda burnt out, but this was one hell of a fun ride. And what better way to cap off this incredible experience than one final love letter to one of my favorite characters of all time. Even through all the ups and downs of this rankdown, I had an absolute blast taking part in it. Thank you to everyone who has followed this experience and cheered us on throughout. It wouldn’t be the same without you. Love and cheers to you all!
SMC0629: 2
DryBonesKing: 5
Zanthosus: 7
Tommyroxs45: 4
Regnisyak1: 3
DavidW1208: 3
ninjedi1: 4
Average Placement: 4.000
Total Points: 28
Standard Deviation: 1.633 (Lowest)

TL;DR: I'm overthinking that other guys are trying to get my boyfriend to themselves and now it might be happening, although my boyfriend is denying it.
Hi! I start by saying that I love and trust my boyfriend completely. We've been together for 2 years now. We live in different cities, 3h drive. We meet 2-3 times a month, but text almost every half hour and both are still very in love with each other (maybe even more than before). It's my first real relationship and I've never felt so happy in my life.
In the past I've been hurt (emotionally) by a few guys - they told me I'm theirs only and then later I found out that they secretly sent pics and flirty texts with many other guys (and went to gay bars and found people there etc etc, you all know the basic cheating thing...)
My boyfriend is a cute nerd, a bit shy and doesn't go out much. Now he's starting going out with work friends (girls) and to gay clubs to dance and have a drink. We have Snapchat live location ON (he suggested that so I wouldn't worry). That's all fine, I'm glad he's socializing.
But since I've been hurt in the past and an emotional guy then now I've become quite jealous and a big overthinker... Because a lot of things that I was afraid of in the past became true... So... What if my bf is actually sexting with other guys he found at a gay club or what if he's secretly on Grindr, what if there's one dude who knows how to charm etcetc. I feel so stupid...
Now a few days ago he went to sleep and forgot his phone unlocked. Now I'm a jerk for doing this next thing but... I checked his phone. No Grindr, no dating apps. On Messenger there were chats with family and friends. Same with Snapchat. Until... I found that he was texting two guys time to time (they're gay, I saw both of them on Grindr years ago) on Instagram, reacting to their storys (which is fine) but then also sending them some gay memes/content (ex: Romeo & Liam playing around on Insta, some top-bottom jokes) and the other way around. And I scrolled up and saw this message from one of the guys to my boyfriend: "I know you're in a relationship. But if u ever wanna fool around, u can turn to me." My bf replied: noted, but I have a boyfriend (and no more messages that day/night). I also found that same guy replying to a hot gay joke my bf sent him: "You know how I feel about you, I would drool" or something. And a few weird things like that as well. But they also chatted about some video game and some random normal stuff, nothing flirty.
I asked my boyfriend in the morning who is that guy and if they're talking on Insta (didn't tell him I looked through his dm's...). He said that this dude has tried hitting on him but my bf told him to calm down and stop. Which was all true. So basically my boyfriend told me that yes there is this guy and they don't meet irl and text few times a month (but actually few times a week, very little conversation tho, but still enough to make lose my mind...).
So now I'm really broken... My overthinking has gone worse. I'm scared when he's going out in the future. I... I don't know 😣 I can't ask him to stop texting people, I don't want to be that controlling toxic boyfriend. I'm afraid of losing him and you know what they say: "If you keep thinking about something it might eventually happen if you think enough..." It scares me...
What should I do, how should I control my thoughts, should I ask my bf something? I beg for advice, please, how can I calm myself down?

Hello, My first serious relationship was with a guy who had avoidant attachment style. He grew up in toxic environment where his dad was alcoholic and while drunk his father was physically and emotionally abusive towards my ex and his mom. My ex in order to avoid his dad's abuse used to lock himself in his own room. So knowing my ex's circumstances I tried to be understanding and patient with him.
He was emotionally unavailable. When he faced personal problems or we faced problems in our relationship he used to be emotionally distant. He avoided confrontations so I was always the one who confronted him about our problems. He also could stay silent for days (when we weren't together) or pretend everything is fine (when we were together) unless I started talking to him first about difficult topics or problems. When he was too overwhelmed with problems he often used to push me away by asking me to leave him alone.
I stayed with him because he put in effort to meet my needs. He was very independent and preferred to do most of the things alone, he did things with me which I enjoyed because he knew it was important to me. Companionship was important to me, not important to him. I was clingy to him, he tried to be patient with me as well. I used to ask him to spend more time with me after not seeing him for whole week, sometimes two weeks when he was already drained after spending several hours with me and wanted to spend time alone but he often spent more hours with me to meet my need. His red line was when he was too overwhelmed with problems or felt very stressed out, then he wasn't patient with me and used to push me away by asking me to leave him alone. After leaving him alone I felt like walking on eggshells because I didn't know what he was thinking, what was on his mind, once he calmed down he talked to me.
This relationship just became too tiring and difficult to handle over time that I couldn't do this anymore. I felt like a burden to him?
Now some things to keep in mind dating avoidants:

• Patience. You will need a lot of patience to date them. These people need a lot of space and they often push clingy people away because they drain and annoy them.
  
• Some avoidants instead of talking about problems dump their partners. After they realize they already fucked up they come back to talk about problems. So you must have clear boundaries and do not tolerate behavior like this. You should tell them that communication is very important to you if they still refuse to communicate then don't bother with them.
  
• Avoidants are very independent which means in often cases companionship is not important to them. I often see when people complain that avoidants prefer to play video games or do any other activity instead of spending time with their partner. At this point you need to compromise how much time you will spend together and how much time you will spend time alone. If avoidant refuses to compromise and still prefer to spend time playing video games/ doing any other activities taking their whole free time then don't bother with them.
  
• I think more often than not you will feel like intruder, someone who invaded avoidant's space.
  

I (27F) have dated that guy who’s almost 32 now if I’m not mistaken (omg time flies) back when I was 17-18 (yes I wasn’t legal hen we first met but whatever), we met online and from there we started to hook up regularly. I inevitably ended up catching feelings for him. I asked him to be my bf which he declined quite harshly. I was hurt, so I just came back to the app I was using at the time and eventually found another guy (19M at the time being) I dated for one year and half. Ironically (or not), he deeply regretted saying no and kept pursuing me the whole time I was with the other one. Once he even came to sit down at the table where that guy and I were having a meal, alpha style lol. Truth is, I wasn’t over him either so I ended up cheating on the guy with him (bad, I know). We broke up a few weeks after and my now official bf and I started to date. There’s been an incident at the very beginning of that new relationship, where I found out he was texting random male strangers, way older than him, to jerk off with via Skype… I confronted him it, I remember trying to be as comprehensive and not shameful as possible even though I was very confused. He brushed it off, probably ashamed about the nature of those interactions. But I did the most damage in the relationship, I must admit. My very first boyfriend wasn’t loyal nor considerate towards me so I eventually coped by doing the same afterwards, and trust me I truly regret all the pain it has caused to my then bfs. I guess I just wanted to quit but couldn’t find the words nor the courage to so I sabotaged it in whole. I remember the last time we saw each other before officially breaking up he was begging for me to stay even though I did him so wrong. I was embarrassed, almost pissed off and in the moment I acted very cold. So it ended. We stayed officially together two years and half, he’s been my longest relationship. He kept wishing me my birthday as well as a Happy New Year for a long time after we got apart, but it never went further than these small interactions. He only stopped about two years ago (I had to check, I’m actually shocked it lasted for even longer than I thought) and I assumed he met someone, I felt kinda relieved somehow. In the meanwhile I’ve grown, I’ve learned and I met my wonderful bf (23M). I love him so much; that’s the first time I experiment a relationship where’s there’s absolutely no redflags and where I actually see my future with my loved one. We communicate very well and we have each other’s back 100%. Back to that guy, while I was just waking up this morning I’ve received a FB notification saying he’s been identified in a picture (I hardly use FB anymore and I never bothered cleaning my FB list which is freaking huge, I’m too lazy for that). That ex in particular has never been into socials nor pictures, so out of curiosity I clicked on it. And that’s how I had the visual confirmation he had someone. I wasn’t expecting that reaction from me, never thought it would move me the way it did but it did. I mean it’s been a long while since we both moved on, yet it made me think about all of what I’ve talked previously, going through some type of deep introspection. It’s hard to describe how I feel… I’m genuinely happy for him, I am too although I can’t help but feeling a bit sad. I regret that his family, especially his sisters, got in the way (he has an engineering background and after art studies I decided to do modelling full time so it has been fairly common in my relationships that the entourage made assumptions based on stupid stereotypes). It affected my self esteem so much and I resented him for never standing up for me while we were together, before all went down from my part. He told me he did tell them to shut up after we broke up though, and it’s even more triggering to me. Right now I see my mistakes, I know what went wrong and I regret that I hurt him, even though I have no desire to get back to him, neither do I have feelings for him. I think it’s just nostalgia speaking… I feel kinda guilty though, my bf will see I’m feeling blue so I’ll have to tell him, I tell him everything. But I’m scared it’s gonna sting. I love him I don’t want to hurt his feelings :(
Sum up : I saw a picture of my ex high school bf and his gf and it’s making me nostalgic

Hi guys,
Got a question whether anyone had an akita that became friends with a cat.
My previous dog (not an akita) got along with a cat we rescued super easy. Sure there were 'fights' but it was more of a playful hazing rather than an actual battle.
Our lovely Lana is 1year now and we have a cat that has been with us for 7years now - them two don't get along, cat mostly lives upstairs and if goes outside does it when Lana is in the garden. We have very recently adopted another cat, super small (2months of age) and I'm keen to get them two to be mates however cat is obviously scared and dog being an akita gets super enthusiastic. Whilst not aggressive per se her body mass especially if she runs at him make it very dangerous - cat as expected makes a run for it
Anyone with experience on that field willing to advise?
Cheers!

I'll preface this by saying that I'm expecting Joe Biden to win a narrow reelection this November via carrying the Rust Belt Trio of MI, PA, and WI. His second term is largely focused on foreign policy as the Republicans control at least one chamber of Congress for the duration of it so not much gets done domestic policy wise. His approval ratings remain largely the same as they are now.
The 2028 presidential field is a large one with multiple candidates on both sides.
On the Democratic side, you get familiar names like like Kamala Harris, Pete Buttigieg, Gavin Newson, Gretchen Whitmer, etc. Though she does get a serious challenge in the form of a progressive candidate like John Fetterman or Ruben Gallego, Harris ultimately wins the nomination due to the the institutional advantages that come with being the sitting Vice President and the support of the African-American community. She picks a generic white guy as her running mate. Andy Beshear, Chris Murphy, and Pete Buttigieg are some names that come to mind.
The Republican primaries quickly become a clusterf**k with every candidate trying to outdo each other with their respective Trump impressions. The party establishment early on rallies around then-former VA Gov. Glenn Youngkin in the hopes of returning the GOP to the pre-Trump days but he eventually fizzles out. Nikki Haley runs again but is largely an afterthought as she is no longer the last anti-Trump candidate standing. Ron DeSantis also runs again and is surprisingly competitive despite flopping in 2024. JD Vance eventually emerges as the Trumpist candidate due to his white working class background striking a cord with Trump voters. The primary culminates in a DeSantis vs. Vance showdown, with a late Trump endorsement of Vance putting him over the edge. Vance picks an establishment Republican as his running mate. I'm going say Marco Rubio or Tim Scott contingent on which, if neither one, is picked by Trump this year. Former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo also comes to mind.
As for who becomes the 47th President, I'm going to have to say Vance in large part due to the country will be coming off a two-term Biden presidency and its difficult for a party to win the presidency for a third consecutive term. And while Vance's skills as a candidate are lacking, Harris has shown that hers aren't much better

I'm a 5'6 minority guy who grew up in the early 90's and early 2000's who was born with several health issues, in poverty, abusive parents, and was bullied for most of my young adult life.
Entering my 20's i had no friends, no gf, no money, no parents who would support me. The entirety of my college life was working 2 part time jobs to support myself while still being unable to afford most of my own text books nor clothes nor food and my dad telling me "go figure it out urself" when i asked them for help on financial aid forms.
My first job during the 08 recession, literally every 2 days it was the same thing: "do you eat dogs", "shut up jackie chan", "dont yall have tiny dicks", etc and when i told my dad about this he told me, "just ignore them and keep ur head down and keep working". This didn't relieve the bullying.
So i opted to get bigger so i wouldnt be a push over so i spent 2 years at the gym in the evenings so i could bulk up.
Over 600 days consecutively I went to the gym with minimal results and i found out from a doctor i had hormonal issues that was keeping my test levels comparable to those of a 70 year old man
No friends, no love life, living paycheck to paycheck during a recession in a toxic workplace, no support from parents, and a useless body i wanted to chuck into a river.
So i decided to move out of my current state. I looked for jobs elsewhere and landed something outside the east coast. Not great pay but it was an out at least.
I opted to go out more with watever little change i could scrounge up. Usually that meant carrying a pregame bottle with me and taking the subway to nearby bars. Where i was needy and annoying previously, i opted to just be chill and nice to everyone with no expectations. If they disliked me, cool. If they thought i was too weird or awkward, fine. My philosophy was that as long as i knew i was being a chill decent person then i couldnt' care less what others would think of me cause at the very least i did my part.
that year i made more friends i had in my entire life. It was the first time people texted ME to go out and asked ME if i was gonna go to x or y party.
i never had that happen to me before and it felt really nice.
as for the gym, i got injections and my test levels to only even average and got more gains within 6 months that i ever did in 2 years. Compared to the struggle i was going through before, it felt like easy mode now
and the combination of the previous 2 helped me to get with girls that someone like me on paper had no business getting the interest of.
as for my career, that took a little longer. I eventually got diagnosed with sleep apnea and adhd and once i got those two managed, within a year i ended up with my first 6 figure job. I didnt even think that was possible since the majority of my life was spent earning $30-38k a year.
i know this is already a long post already but it really leaves out all the nights spent angry at myself and spent breaking down at how much of a loser i felt like. Most people who knew me when I was younger have no idea what i went through or how i change things around, but i'm proud of myself and i wanted to share this.

I made a post 2 days ago on two x chromosome and feminism sub reddit.
This was it:
I saw a comment on YouTube that prompted me to say this.
"A lot of us complain about colorism and misogyny and yet a lot of women turn around and support artists who portray just that because they have a few good songs/works. I think its redundant and doesn't help with anything because we are all part of society.
For instance that Danileigh woman(dababys ex) made a very colorist song "Yellow Bone What He Wants" and a lot of women stopped supporting her immediately & her career hasn't been the same since. BUT those same women turn around and continue supporting a lot of mainstream rappers of which most of them are colorist, sexist, and overall don't respect women in general.
Thoughts?"
And no only one woman commented. It really showed me that a lot of women don't want to take any actionable steps to make a change and hold themselves accountable(those last few words kinda makes me sound like a guy- they always say women don't like taking accountability)
Hopefully, one day women stop tolerating nonsense but that honestly feels like that's never going to happen, but a girl can dream right?

Hi! I just started seeing a really great guy. We went on about 6 really great, long, meaningful dates and everything was wonderful! About a month in, his parent got diagnosed with two severe types of cancer. He doesn’t live in the same state as her, and has been going back and forth to provide care. Sometimes he is gone for weeks at a time. This has been going on for a little over two months now. He is a great guy and I by no means want to end it. I really want to be there to support him and do whatever I can for him. However, his communication has gotten way less consistent, which I understand is because he is working full time remote and caring for his mom, while also probably preemptively grieving too. I would love any advice on how to best support him. I’m afraid I’ll be too much or do the wrong thing. I’ve sent a few cards, two care packages, and an UberEats gift card. I’ve never met his family, and we didn’t get to the point in person yet where we talked about how we handle hard news/the best ways to support. Is it insensitive to ask him to have a hard conversation like that right now? I don’t want to put my needs ahead of his- I know his mom is the top priority and I think it speaks volumes about his character that he is taking such great care of her and putting his life on hold. I care so much about him and just want to do what’s best for him! Any advice would be appreciated! Thank you!!

Engineer : Esteban, we have to let Pierre through, please. Gap behind him two seconds to Hulkenberg.
Ocon : What's the reason?
Engineer : We need to try and attack Ricciardo.
Ocon : Yeah, forget it!
Engineer : Okay, that is a request. Got three laps to go.
Ocon : Are you giving the place back after or not?
Engineer : That's what I'm working on
Ocon : Okay, I let him by. Understood.
Engineer : Esteban, the cars are not swapping places. Push to the end, please.
Ocon : Yeah, amazing. Thank you, amazing. Thank you
Engieer : OK, radio is still on.
Ocon : OK, mate. Yeah, yeah, you're good. OK. Yeah, OK. No comments. Too nice. Too nice. OK, mate.
Engieer : OK, listen. We still came 10th. We've still got a point, OK? It's a long way to go yet. OK, I know, I know, I know. I know it's frustrating.
Ocon : I've done what I had to do, which is the most important, but you guys didn't do what you had to do. That's it.
Engineer : What I'll say is we came P10 and we started right at the back with very little hope of getting anything out of this. And most of that is down to the fact that you drove very well and kept a cool head through difficult conditions. So you should be very pleased with yourself for that. And thank you for doing that as well
Ocon : Thank you. Yeah, happy to be working with you guys too, Dave and Josh. Very happy.
Ocon : Thanks for supporting. Thanks for supporting.
Engineer : Sorry mate, long way to go. Another 15 races, yeah.

Ohana Slime's shop is temporarily closed but I was fortunate to get two slimes from the incredible Em herself! She had seen my post two weeks ago lamenting the opportunity of finding a good quality weed scented slime and reached out to me. The package came with a business card, care card, and magnet charms!! I never thought of putting magnets on them, but I'm so tempted to do so on all the charms I've gotten now.
The package was delivered yesterday. I was exhausted from being out of the house the whole day and was about ready to crash, but couldn't resist opening them and I am over the goddamn moon, you guys. The Kush Flower is PACKED with silica - I've never gotten a slime that was this crunchy!! - and the scent was exactly what I had wanted. Not skunky but not synthetically/sweetly floral either. Idk how to describe it other then a "natual green" smell that I find relaxing (although that could be because I'm an indica enjoyer lol). The other slime is a jelly freebie that has a similamilder scent and was so fun to squish. I was pushing the limits of my timer, they were so soothing after a long day and couldn't tear myself away. Afterwards I immediately passed out and was woken by my bf looking at me with concern and going, "Did you... partake?" because he smelled the hint of oui'd and thought I broke my sobriety. If that isn't a ringing endorsement then idk what is 🤣
All in all, these slimes exceeded my expectations and I cannot thank Em enough for hooking me up with the good (slime!) kush. 10/10 would recommend!!
Edit: it's been a while since I've regularly posted on Reddit and forgot how to post pics 😅 I'll hopefully figure that out so y'all can see my haul

Everyone is always looking for that next big thing. Roaring Kitty posted about GME a year or two before the initial breakout happened. I posted about 2.5 years ago about $ELTP going CFP. So, why is $ELTP, positioned for a squeeze?
First and foremost, there are known agitators on the Ihub boards - two of which have openly admitted to shorting the stock and bragging that they can do it from outside the United States. They have infiltrated the moderator spots, just like the in GME where those in naked shorting positions were placing employees in locations to create horrible customer service experiences. For GME, the goal was to drive customers away, and it sounded crazy when first posited, but, like many conspiracy theories over the last few years, it was eventually shown to be true. For $ELTP, the main moderator deletes many positive posts, restricts posting of those in long positions or outright bans their accounts. He will send you messages bragging about the fact that you can't do anything about it. Hubris is always the last step before downfall.
I watched this stock for 3.5 years before I bought a single share. Ironically, the antics of these agitators helped clue me in on this potentially being a good stock. Once the company turned a profit - clearly amazing news for a company on the OTC, the most astounding thing happened. All the naysayers and agitators whipped themselves up in to this religious fervor. Accounts with similar names but that hadn't posted in 10 years suddenly started spam posting negative stuff about a stock...that just had incredibly positive news? That's odd. The more positive news that came out the more they started banning people and spamming negative posts. And the more I saw this, the more shares I accumulated. Then last year, $ELTP popped over 600% from it's low. It was like swatting a bee hive. The agitators went full tilt.
So, how can we profit, and how can we make these guys feel the pain? There are about 400 million shares held by execs/employees etc. that I don't think are moving. That leaves about 600 million shares. The people who have borrowed shares (hard to tell the amount since this is outside of the US and most likely outside of our ability to purvey) are going to be in an increasingly tough position if we can start accumulating all of the shares. At 10,000 people, we would need to each accumulate 60,000 shares - a cost of around $10k at current prices. 10,000 people - that's all and we can drive this thing through the roof. The best part? The CEO has stated that he expects a buyout within 2 to 2.5 years. So, we have our exit. Preferably, it would be by Pfizer (they lost a manufacturing plant in a hurricane last year and could use $ELTP manufacturing capacity) so we could swap shares instead of paying the capital gains.
I've posted my position before on here when discussing this company so that I was as transparent as possible. Going forward though, I will personally commit to $15,000 a month in purchases. I continue to say this stock is worth $1.60 ish on the low side and $10 on the high side. At 17 cents, each share would be one more little soldier fighting for my retirement.
If this gets over 2,000 likes, I'll assume I've got soldiers marching with me, and I start my $15k buy per month which I will post screenshots of every month.

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

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

Hey guys, I am an American-born student who grew up in India and came over here before college. So I have many friends from India who have subsequently come over to study or to work from India and also some other international friends. One problem that all of them seem to face is banking effectively in the USA, whether that be getting credit cards, having guidance, etc. I am currently in the process of working on a platform/service that helps with this as it is an issue pretty close to me. Would love to hear any detailed specific/similar struggles that you guys have faced to give me a better roadmap of how to tackle the issue.
While I was working on this, I realized that an extension of this problem is the difficulties that internationals in USA face with setting up a business, managing to get business cards, and so on. If you guys have any insights on these two areas or recommendations, I would sincerely appreciate it even if you aren't a foreigner. I will keep you guys up to date on how things go! Thanks again!

I’m trying out 5/3/1 on a 4-day split along with two days of HIC (alternating E sessions every week). So far, so good… I’m seeing much more size and strength gains than I did using Fighter.
My question is: would you guys throw in an easy conditioning week as you would with say “Operator” template? If so, when would I do that on 5/3/1? Would I do it on the third week (the hardest week) or save for the same week as the weight deload?
Thanks in advance.

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

Right now, I just want to vent me and my ex-girlfriend. She has been diagnosed with BPD and many other mental disorders have a long and troubling past. We had a year and a half long relationship after half a year in our relationship she cheated on me with another guy, she was messing around with him. She got pregnant by either me or him she doesn’t know, but she’ll tell people it was either me or him and it depends on her mood.
A while ago, she got out of the relationship and me and her family help her. She disrespected some family members and they have cut her off completely and her family has praise me for but now I see that it was really a waste of time to help her.
Recently, I went out to go see her, and when I did, she tried multiple times through my phone when she did she got mad at me for talking to another girl about a few months before her running away from the other guy that she left me for because of a piece of relationship and another guy I was a bit curious at the time of our break up And she is mad at me about things that I have done outside of our relationship which very much confuses
I helped her out with almost $5000 and I’ve been asking her to get that money back. She’s telling me that I did it out as my heart and I said yeah but you said you were gonna pay me back and she said no I did. I never said that what she did on social media she has been asking me for money. I said money I’m not you giving you more money if you already owe me and she gets mad and starts blocking me again about a month ago I had to change my phone number
so I can get into contact with her so she can pay me back the money she owes me she kept on talking about how she was a victim in our relationship, but she was gaslighting me, manipulating me trying to control who I can and can’t talk to who I can and can’t follow, but she followed a guy that wanted to be in a relationship with her her exes and was flirting with people behind my backand she’s telling me that she’s victim our relationship
Then out of the blue two guys pop up and I hear them on the phone and they’re calling me a stalker they’re calling me harass her. They call me a weirdo. I’m telling them that I just want my money back and they’re telling me that that’s a problem that’s my own personal problem and I don’t need to go For the money she owes me for helping her and then I clarified some situations because they were like oh you’re harassing her. I said she unblocked me a while ago
They said oh she’s a nice person. Why are you harassing her? I said she cheated on me. Oh it was probably like a one night stand and I clarified no she was with the guy for four months and got pregnant by him or me well, you probably did something And I told them one time she lied to the police and sent me to jail. Oh you did something to her for her to do and like you can sit here and tell the cops and they’re trying to FaceTime me see what I look like a weirdo or something like that which insult me and embarrasses me because he’s two people are in a conversation about something they don’t even know about
Can I talk to my ex because she owes me money and I want my money back they hung up the phone on me and they blocked me later to help her now she’s blowing up my phone and mad at me a lawyer and she can possibly go to jail for not paying me And she has a warrant for her arrest because she stole a car running away from the that she left me for
So right now I’m just venting because I’m tired of my ex delusions that she has done nothing wrong in our relationship that she is the complete and utter victim and that only person that was doing wrong with me after she cheated she gaslight me. She lied on me and she tried to control where I went and also asked for my location And I asked for hers and she said I shouldn’t be giving it out to you because you’ll just try to manipulate me and try to stop me from hanging out with my friends when she didn’t have any friends, and the only people she had was guys wanna have sex with her.