Wooden toy barn plans

I (20 AMAB) am trying to figure somethings out right now, My brain has been different from the things it overthinks about. Its not the first time Ive thought about my own Gender Identity in general, and I dont think will be the last either.
Some Backstory: I grew up in a catholic household, parents or family were never too too religious and I lost hope in the catholic god and catholicism when I was younger. (No offense to any one who follows that religion, just not for me). There were days when I was younger I resented for being a guy because of "societal" pressure to conform to this specific gender role, what I should like, what toys I should play with, how I should dress, how I should act, and especially how my emotions should be presented. Ive been a more emotional person, to where my father has called me a sissy or a p***y and such, just for crying. (My emotions are more repressed now but that later).It doesnt help that no matter when I try to talk to this to family they always say "Oh thats not you" and such. Or just the topic of it seems to make them angry or uncomfortable and it just makes me feel trapped. I have constantly heard especially recently how Im supposed to think, or what my thoughts were and it pisses me off a bit because no one knows what I think about other than me and no one listens when I try to tell them. I just wondered what It would be like to be a girl, or just a different gender. Wearing Dressings, being cutesy, pretty, painting nails, having the body of a woman and such. It was something I genuinely looked into how dreams work to try and force dreams where I was a girl. (Yes it did work only twice tho). I would pray to god at the time in which I believed in to make me a girl, or to just swap bodies into a girl into a different family as well. At the time I didnt really think much of it, I met someone, he found out he was trans and is f2m. Ive support him the whole way but never thought I could ever do anything with my gender. I mean I was born a guy at birth I have to be a guy right? My family are quite homophobic and transphobic but not, if that makes sense. They have clear gender roles towards things.
Those specific gender roles they believe in have recently felt suffocating now. Just seeing my sister scoffs at men wearing skirts, or my parents having an issue with guys painting there nails. Its just, it sucks. Especially since these things interest me as of more recent. Speeding up to the present. I have a close friend, she is M2F and has just told me a lot about her personal experiences and such as we have grown closer over time. Over these past 2ish months I have re opened the pardoras box of gender. It has caused a lot of internal stress within myself, and just made my whole life a living hell of sleepless nights and overthinking. I experimented with Pronouns and different names. She/Her, going by Brie, now I have taken a step back and am going by my birth name and assigned pronouns at birth. Honestly, in a way I kind of miss it even if It made me dissociate from reality and how I felt, I liked it. But, it was just too much all at once. So I took the step back.
Somedays I look at myself in the shower and want tits, or rather it be smooth down there instead of well yeah... I want to wear certain clothes more feminine clothes. But than I just take a look in the mirror and its hard to see, me as a woman in general. I know E is a hell of a drug and can do some crazy and wild stuff. But than just somedays it doesnt bug me as much, I dont think too deep on it at all. My philosophy used to be just work with what I got, and if I was born a girl maybe I would be happier but that road is closed. But, I know its not either, Its hard to figure out who I want to be. I know it doesnt need to be Girl, it could be Demi-girl, Non-Binary, Gender fluid and so many more. Im going to therapy already, and she knows all about this. And Im working on getting a psychiatrist to get some answers on other mental stuff going on. Im planning on going to an Expo in a maid outfit to just wear a more feminine clothing out in public to get a feel for it all.
I just I know it all takes time, but in the perfect world in my head I believe im a woman, but I just dont feel like that perfect world is exactly possible. I have a plan but im also confused, im giving it time but the time doesnt help all too much. I thought I knew what I wanted but maybe I was wrong.
Sorry for this wall post, I just felt I needed to say this properly, and just kinda hear what people have to say to it. Thanks. Im willing to answer questions if needed.

We live in Monterey County, Ca. We own a house in a small city that’s worth about 800k. We tried buying a place with land more than 8 years ago in our county, but the prices just seemed to be always out of our reach, always 100-200k above our price range. I’m a saver, my husband’s not, so I was always reluctant to jump into debt, he always wanted to jump feet first and buy something. Well now I’m feeling majorly at fault because of course, the market turned into what it did and now houses that we would want are nonexistent and in the 1.2 mil range. Exactly a year ago, our 17 year old (who’s been desperate to get out of the city) started sending us Zillow listings, and we went out to Amador county (Sierra Nevada foothills) and fell in love with a 70 year old farmhouse on 20 acres of land. It needed major work, and over the past year, we’ve put 70k into it, planning another 30k more this summer. We paid less than 500k for it, and we’ve been paying both mortgages and repairs (stressful but doable). My husband wants to sell our city house, but as soon as I said yes, I did the math and we’d lose a lot of money by selling it (renting it and the 2.3 interest rate). On the other hand if we sell we’d net 500k, allowing us to fix up the farm the way we want to (barn, stables, adu, fencing, etc) and still have 400k to buy another property, or we could pay off the farm and have extra cash. It’s much more affordable up there, so we could buy something cash. As it is now we owe 250k on our city house and 250k on the country house, we make 200k+ a year, and my husband and I could move jobs and make slightly less but comparable up there. Aitah or just too scared to say yes?

I've been looking for years... I have no lyrics but here's a description
2000s to 2010s Male country singer. Singing about wanting to spend his life and grow old with his lady. In the music video there are shots of him in a barn, Only lit from the sun outside. A little girl running and climbing through a wooden farm fence. A shot of a happy elderly couple on a porch swing. The song has a slowdown bit where he talks about when he dies he'll thank the lord for his life and such.

Hello Homeowners! As the weather is warming up, I wanted to send out some friendly reminders to the community:

1. The HOA dues are considered late if received after 15 days from the 1st of the month.
   
2. The 2024 meeting schedule has been set! Please mark your calendars with the following dates so you can participate in the meetings and find out what is going on in your community. All meetings have been posted to the HOA’s website. All meetings are open to the public and homeowners are encouraged to attend.
   
3. Trash day for the association is on Tuesday. Trash service is included in your HOA dues, and the volume based rates apply, so please reach out to your account manager if you would like a different size cart. Asking for a smaller bin if you don't use all of the space you currently have may save the association money. Cart sizes available are 35, 65, and 95 gallons.
   

• Please note that no garbage or trash cans or receptacles shall be maintained in an exposed or unsightly manner (except that a container for such materials may be placed outside at such times as may be necessary to permit garbage or trash pickup.) The HOA's governing documents state that trash may be placed on the street for pickup after 5:00 a.m. on the day that such trash is to be picked up. Trash containers must be properly stored the evening of pickup. Some holidays may delay trash pick-up, please see the schedule enclosed on the last page for details on holiday delays.

1. When parking in driveways, please ensure the vehicle is parked all the way forward and not protruding over the sidewalk for pedestrian safety. Cars may not be parked in the street for longer than 48 hours per city guidelines.
   
2. Pet owners, please ensure you are cleaning up after your pet in the community, including in your fenced yard. Dog feces carry disease that is harmful to humans and other pets so it is important to keep up with this regularly. Dog waste left not picked up can also lead to disturbing odors. Additionally, all pets must be on a leash when in the common areas of the community.
   
3. Any exterior modifications to your lot require board approval. Please ensure you complete the attached ARC request form and submit it through your portal along with any photos, plans, drawings, etc of your project, before you begin a project.
   
4. With warmer weather upon us, most homeowners like to entertain guests and be outdoors more. Please ensure you are being respectful neighbors and keeping noise levels low as not to disturb those around you.
   
5. All lots in the HOA are to be kept in a clean and attractive condition. Please do not dispose of any food or compost items in the common areas as they may attract unwanted pests. Please ensure turf areas are mowed regularly, weeds are mitigated, overgrown shrubs/trees are pruned, ground cover (such as rock and mulch) are in place and tidy, and house repairs and paint are in good shape. Bags, coolers, toys, sports equipment, and other miscellaneous items should not be left outside and visible from the street when not in use.
   
6. Basketball hoops: The HOA's governing documents state that no basketball backboards shall be attached to the garage. Only portable backboards shall be allowed and do not require approval if the following guidelines are met: 1) portable units cannot be placed in the public right of ways, streets, or sidewalks; 2) location must be at least half of the length of the driveway away from the street. This location constitutes proper placement and the unit must be kept in this location. Basketball hoops must be stored out of sight when not in use.
   

For those who have received violations prior to the beginning of May, those are considered to be courtesy notices, and moving forward courtesy notices will be in the form of an email rather than an emailed letter attachment. Warning letters will come after courtesy emails, and then the first and second violation notice will follow given that the violation has not been corrected. We are currently working together with the landscaper on maintaining the common areas.

1. The HOA has a vacant position on the board. If anyone is interested in serving on the board, please let us know by May 24, 2024. The board would like to appoint someone who may be interested in the treasurer position. The term runs until the annual meeting this year, December 4, 2024.

End of letter, effectively.
Everyone knows that property values plummet when basketball hoops are left out overnight, it’s just a fact don’t ask any questions about it.
Fuck HOAs. Anyone who wants this shit is not someone I want to be friends with.

In the Era of Fear I Comfort them with Great Love
Anita Moorjani was cured from cancer not because of a certain medicine, vaccine or chemotherapy. She was cured because of this Great Love. Anita Moorjani is a forty years old woman who is simple and honest. She was born in India, grew up in Singapore and was English educated. Later she went to Hong Kong. She knows Tamil, English and Cantonese. In 2002 the doctor said that she was down with cancer lymphoma or the blood cell tumor. After four years, in 2006 seventy percent of her body is covered with the cancerous cells. She stayed in the hospital, suffering terribly because of this illness. Later the doctor pronounced her death. After three days she woke up and was cured miraculously. This is truly inconceivable when she woke up from her death. In her mind she was very sure she was cured already. No treatment was needed. But she was very weak. She could not even talk. The doctor was surprised of her condition and again they carried out a checking on her body and found that she was free from all symptoms of cancer. In her mind she knew she was already cured. In her mind there was a great transformation that she personally experienced. And all the cells on her body were transformed into healthy cells. Later she wrote a book entitles: After dying once I finally learn to love’ By looking at this title, it coincides with Master Shan Dao’s teaching on the one with deep faith in the dharma. He said, ‘Standing here is waiting to die. Going forward is also death. Turning back, I too cannot escape from death.’ This can be found in the ‘Analogy of two rivers and one white lane’ the three sure deaths. If we have died once, we will truly give ourselves up. This is the same as the Pure Land teaching that we have to admit we are the sinful mundane man. We lose all hope as we have no ways to leave the triple realm. In cultivation we need to really undergo a total death in order to really practise the path. The zen cultivator says this is known as undergoing great death and great living. Otherwise, no real cultivation can be expected because most of us are very arrogant, very self-centred, without much changes in our stubborn mindset. That is why she said after dying once only she managed to learn how to love. In the Pure Land door this is known as having deep faith. Such a man will surely have faith in Amitabha’s 48 vows to gather in living beings without any doubts and suspicion. By relying on the strength of the Buddha’s Vows we will surely attain a rebirth. This is living in the great love of Namo Amitabha Buddha. We receive the love of Amitabha Buddha. Only then we can have the genuine love and we are able to learn to love. If we do not feel the love of Amitabha Buddha, we will not know how to love. Our love will be frightening as it is an attachment, a desire to control, to possess others. Such a love is impure, it is a threat to us. If we are not careful it might turn into hatred. Such is a frightful kind of love. If we learn from Amitabha Buddha, the love is pure, without condition and transparent. This is truly loving a person. It is not easy to learn this. We look at the couples around us. So many got married and end up in divorce. How about those who do not get a divorce? Yes, they spend the whole life fighting！The truly loving couples are as few as the stars in the broad day light. So, learning to love is our homework for the whole life. It is not easy. Today I would like to discuss this passage with you. After reading her writing I feel most shameful as what the author has said is very true in accord with her experience. Even though I have left home for more than twenty years, receiving the teaching of the Buddha, the guidance of the patriarch, the exhortation of my Master, the help of my lotus friends and all, I still feel I am lacking in genuine practice and virtues. On the contrary this lady has not met with the Buddha Dharma. She has such an awakening after dying once, it is truly a gain for her. She said, ‘After my body stopped functioning, I entered into another world.’ She was so seriously ill that her heart, her liver and everything stopped functioning. This is to show there is a world after death. She said, ‘I saw myself as a very wonderful person. This is because I was not terrorised until I had a change in shape.’ ‘I felt there was this vibrant energy around me and I was able to enter it. I realise if a man can see his wonderful existence, he must be the happiest man.’ Most of us like to complain about our imperfect existence. We often think thus, ‘I do not have enough money. I am not healthy. I am not pretty. I do not have enough clothing ….’ Here we must learn to see the good points in us, to appreciate the value of our existence. A woman who can say like this is truly very calm in mind. A man who always complains about himself will not be able to live happily each day. So, without knowing the love of Amitabha for us, we will be a great complainer. We complain about no money, we complain about our look, our wrinkles and so on and so forth. What kind of life will this be with so many complaints? She said, ‘I found that there was this power surrounding me.’ When we pass away, we will no longer be using our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind to observe. Instead, we will be awakened to our innate Buddha. She felt she is surrounded by this vibrant field of energy and she is also this energy. What kind of power is this? It is a kind of energy. It is always in the universe or the dharma realm in the Buddhist terms. In fact, this is Amitabha Buddha. This is the strength of the Buddha Nature. She uses her Buddha Nature to experience the Buddha Nature. It exists forever. It is neither born nor become extinct. If the Buddha enters the world or does not enter the world, it is always there without changing. Of course, she does not use these Buddhist terms. She said, ‘When I give up the attachment to the mundane world, I enter another world effortlessly. It is unnecessary to pray, to recite a sutra or to give a dharma talk. It is unnecessary to seek forgiveness, repentance or other methods.’ ‘Death gives me the feeling that I do not need to do anything. It is just as though I am telling someone I am coming to the end. I cannot do anything anymore. I give up. Whatever you want to do I will just accept.’ I feel that this passage is very near in meaning to the Pure Land’s view. It means when we die, we have just to let go as nothing can be done anymore. Most people die in torment as there are many attachments in this world. They are worried about their children, money and work. Some people find it difficult to die. So, from here we must learn to let go when it is our turn to leave the world. Moreover, we have the promise from Amitabha Buddha who will come to receive us in accord with the strength of his vows. It is much easier for us. This lady just let go and she entered another world. Her state should be quite high too. I will explain below. I feel that she had arrived at the border of the Pure Land. Her state of an awakened mind showed that she was not in the heaven. She seemed to be enlightened to the Buddha nature and non -existence of a self. She experienced the light of enlightenment and returned to life, to lead a life of love. So, in our practice we are told to let go of all attachment and to wish for a rebirth in the Pure Land relying on Amitabha’s strength of vows. So from here we can see it is very easy to be born in the World of Ultimate Bliss. She said it is unnecessary to recite a sutra, a dharma or seeking for forgiveness. She enters the other world naturally when she simply gives up herself. I remember once I went with my Master to console a dying man. I was very touched by my Master’s words. He said kindly to the man who is on the verge of death, ‘So and so, now we will recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. If you can recite, then recite together. If you can’t, just lay down and relax. It is ok if you just listen to our recitation.’ Are not these words very comforting? The dying man will feel very safe and relax. But if you were to say, ‘So and so, this is the last chance. Bring out all your strength to face death. If you can recite then recite together. If you cannot recite, you must try also!’ On listening to this threat, the sick man is stressed out. He will die instantly as he has no strength to join in recitation. The Master who with his great love understands the rescue of Amitabha Buddha is a natural process that he is able to say in such a comforting way. No condition is needed. There is no threat nor fright in his words. A man who threatens people is not calm as he must be frightened too in his mind. That is why what he says will frighten people, giving stress to others. If we are loving in our mind, our words will only bring love, peace and calm to others. People will feel our love for them. So, this lady says it is unnecessary to read or recite any prayer or seeking forgiveness. This is because the wavelength of her mind is on a par with the great love of the universe. She naturally enters it. Namo Amitabha Buddha is a dharma that requires no seeking or pleading. It is a dharma of rescue without condition. When we recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, the wavelength of our mind is the same as Amitabha Buddha. So, we will attain a rebirth naturally. Many of us who do not understand the kindness of Amitabha Buddha will seek a rebirth by pleading to the Buddha every day. His mind is unsettled and frightened that he might be left out. This is because he does not understand when he recites the Buddha’s name, the wavelength of his mind is in the same frequency with Amitabha Buddha’s mind and vows. Then people will ask, ‘Do we still go to recite the Buddha’s Name for the dying man?’ ‘Yes, of course.’ This is because the dying man has yet to understand this point. When we recite for him, he will be safe in the shine of Namo Amitabha Buddha. This is a method which is bestowed upon us to save us with this Name in accord with the strength of the Buddha’s vows. When she says to somebody, this refers to Amitabha Buddha. She says she cannot do anything anymore and she gives up. She gives herself up to the Buddha. So, when we die do not try to fight with death and refuse to die. We must just admit we are the offender and we need the help of Amitabha Buddha to take us, to rescue us. Namo is to admit we take refuge in the Buddha, we surrender ourselves. When we cultivate this door, we must not add in our ideas. We must just let Amitabha Buddha to decide for us. This is because Amitabha has the power of great vow, the extensive great strength of the Buddha Nature, the strength of immeasurable light, the strength of immeasurable lifespan. We just have to give up all planning. He will plan for us. So, when we recite the Name of the Buddha, just recite without thinking of doing this or that trying so hard to reach a certain acceptable standard. These are all unnecessary. This type of thinking is the habit of the sagely path cultivators. When we sit on the plane, just sit there. The plane will bring you to your destiny. It is unnecessary for you to help the plane to fly. Amitabha Buddha the pilot does not need you to fly the plane. If he needs your help then he is not known as Amitabha Buddha. Anita said, ‘In the other world, I found that my mind is very clear and bright. I realise by myself that I will only die out of the fear and terror in my mind.’ These words are very true. Clarity of mind means her mind is pure. In this world our mind is turbid, dark and deluded. That is why are enveloped in all kinds of worries and terror. But once we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally be pure and bright. This is because the land is pure and is enveloped in bright illumination. She said she naturally know she will be cured. This knowing ability is possessed by us originally. No learning is needed because our Buddha nature is originally pure and bright. In the Saha world our ability is being covered up by afflictions. But when we arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss, we will naturally possess this ability. This ability reappears relying on the strength of Vows of Amitabha Buddha. When we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally possess the ability to make offerings to the Buddha. On hearing one sentence we are enlightened to the millions. Our mind is opened up to the thousands of million Dharanis. Everyone of us have this innate ability. And Amitabha Buddha’s strength of Vows enhances its opening. In this Saha World our innate nature is all covered up and cannot function. In the world of ultimate bliss, by relying on Amitabha Buddha’s strength of great vows, our innate ability is open up. So they are not contradicting. ‘I naturally know the source of the thought that I will die. The source is I was frightened. If there is no fear, there is no death.’ In actuality there is no death. It is only our fear of death that this illusion comes froth. In Buddha dharma we should know death itself is an illusion. Time is also an illusion. That is why the Buddha speaks all the Sutra in this manner, ‘Thus have I heard, at one time the Buddha was…..’ No specific time is stated. Now the physics has proven its illusory. As time is an illusion, it does not exist. Let me give you an example of what is meant by death. It is as if we are driving a car into a tunnel. The shape of the tunnel resembles that of a tomb. And we keep on driving into it. We say we are entering the tomb, that we are going to die soon. We are threatened as the entrance represents death. We continue on our journey in the tunnel and later leave the tunnel, again travelling on our way to another destiny. The entrance of the tunnel, the funeral wreath looks like the tomb. For us, death is a terrible idea that we are fearful of it. We do not know life is a continuity and there is no death. It is our wrong concept that there is this section of birth and death. No one can do anything about it until they personally realise it. ‘I am unable to live out my real self as I have too much worried.’ Most of us live in this world wearing a mask. If everyone of us is free to show our real self this is the most beautiful side of a self. Why cannot we live the way we should live? It is because we are always burdened with worries. We are worried we are not good enough. We are worried that our parents will scold us. We are worried our teacher will get angry and criticize us. We are worried about losing face. We only live for others. We lose our life away trying to accord to others’ expectation. We lose the light of a happy life. Our life is controlled by all these worrisome thoughts. But if we truly recite the Buddha’s Name, our mind will be at ease. Amitabha Buddha takes away our worries by replacing them with Namo Amitabha Buddha. We will realise all these worries and views are not important and we will gradually pay no attention to them. Our true life is Buddha recitation. That is our real identity. Our mind will be at ease as we will pay no attention to those unreal things, words and ideas. Our worries only arise when we care too much about the mundane matters. The author has not learnt about Buddhism. This is her experience in death. What she has written is very personal, true experience, not something that we learn from a book. Her experience gives her an awakening to the reality of life and she lives out her life in this awakening. I saw her video and I feel she is an enlightened person. An enlightened person may not be replete with spiritual penetration. But she will reveal her love in her daily living. She is calm at ease and without any sense of fear in her mind. She leads her life in a genuine way. She said, ‘I know that cancer is not a punishment neither is it a retribution. Cancer is my energy capacity which reveals itself on my body. Because of my fear I am unable to reveal the beautiful self in me. And this is the job which should be carried out by me. I know that cancer is not a punishment which is forced on me. It is not an external force of retribution.’ This is what we often do when certain things happen, we will try to find an excuse or put the blame on reward or retribution. We treat the misfortune with anger and hatred. We often have this tendency to catogorise every happening in accord with the cause or reason. In Buddhism we talk about cause and effect. As she is not a Buddhist she says, ‘Cancer appears as a result of a change in my energy capacity. This energy shows itself in the form of cancer.’ This is because she lives in fear and worries. She does not live out her real happy self. So if we the Buddha recitation cultivators are able to reveal the bright side of life, to live without worries, there will be no more cancer for us. This is her understanding about life. That is why I have often said, ‘Lead a life of a mundane man and recite the Buddha’s Name sincerely.’ We should lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Our life will be full of light and blessings. And we will become more loving. Finally we will lead a comfortable life and people around us will be comfortable also. This itself is the propagation of the dharma of love. Otherwise, if we cannot live a loving life, there is no point talking about anything as they will be useless. Anita said, ‘In that state which is vast and limitless, I found that I am too strict with myself. I keep on whipping myself.’ Can we feel the existence of being vast and limitless? No. We are often limited by our surrounding. As she had entered the limitless vastness, she is able to know her whole life. She knows her fault is being too strict with herself. In fact, most of us are very strict with ourselves, demanding ourselves to be like this or that. She said, ‘No one is punishing me. The person whom I cannot forgive is I myself. I have abandoned myself. I do not love myself. This matter is none of others’ business.’ No one from outside comes to punish us. It is we who punish ourselves. We cannot forgive our selves. We add on a lot of unnecessary locks and chains on ourselves. What is more for us the Buddha reciters? If we recite the Buddha’s name and on the other hand, we add on ourselves lots of locks and chains whence Amitabha Buddha is trying to unlock us, isn’t this a most pitiful situation?’ She said that she had abandoned herself. It means we throw ourselves away and become a lone ranger, an isolated person living a life of sadness, a live without love. Look at a baby. Her eyes are clear as the baby is a simple being, just like a simple puppies or baby cat. The baby can play with chickens, puppis as she does not give rise to diffentiation. Not everyone of us is like Anita. But every one of us can recite the Buddha’s name. When we recite the Buddha’s name, we will be calm. Amitabha Buddha said, ‘In the world of fear I comfort them with great love.’ It is because all the worries are gone when we accomplish Buddhahood at the Pure Land. We will not be so worried about our poverty, health problem, ugliness, stupidity, inability to recite a sutra, a mantra. All these are unimportant as finally I will become a Buddha in the Buddha Land. We will be more humorous. For example, if we are ugly we will use it as a joke. It does not matter at all. Because all the external states are not you. The real self, our real life is the Buddha’s Name. It is our true identity. It will bring ease to our mind. A baby is pure. But as it grows up, it starts to abandon himself. A baby resembles a glass of pure water. When he grows up, his greed starts to accumulate when he wants a toy, a book, good results, money, benefits, fame women and so on. All these are placed in the glass of water. Everything is a piece of mud that we put in out glass. The more we put into the glass, the more the water will flow out. This water is the genuine self. We abandon the true self, chase it out with our greed. We fill ourselves with all the rubbish. The genuine blessings and bliss are chased away. We lead an opaque life without transparency. Our life become a glass of muddy water and we live in great torment. The more we obtain, the more we lose ourselves. That is why the Buddha is truly kind. He and his disciples lead a life of a beggar. When you have nothing, you will be happy and relax. The mind retains its purity. Human beings are deluded as they think to possess a wife, children, a house, a car are called blessings. A man who truly loves himself does not love money, sex, fame, food, sleep. These five desires are the knives that will cut us into pieces and bring on great sufferings. Anita said, ‘I realise I am the child of the beautiful universe. As long as I exist, I will obtain this unconditional love.’ This is very good. I would like to make the following changes, ‘I realize that I am the son of the adorned Amitabha Buddha.’ In Buddhism we use adorned to replace the word beautiful. The universe is this Amitabha Buddha. In the Sutra we are told Amitabha Buddha is the Treasury Body of the Dharma Realm. Amitabha Buddha exists in the whole of the Dharma Realm. Of course, there are also the reward body and transformation bodies beside the dharma body. Amitabha Buddha is the immeasurable wisdom and lifespan. Anita says that the universal energy is abundant and inexhaustible, vast and without limits. This is the existence of the Buddha Nature. She says as long as she exists, she will surely obtain the unconditional love. I often also say, ‘No conditions are required for us to receive the love and rescue of Amitabha Buddha.’ Let us take the analogy of a tree. As long as it exists, it will receive the sunlight. No other condition is needed. So it is the same for the house and everything on earth. Amitabha Buddha’s Name is also known as the Light that Far-surpassing the Sun and Moon. Amitabha Buddha’s light pervasively illumines all the living beings and things in the world. As long as we exist, we will receive the light of the Buddha, the protection of his loving kindness and rescue. It is unnecessary for us to become somebody so as to receive the unconditional rescue of Amitabha Buddha. Our Master Hui Jing also wrote a book on the ‘Unconditional Rescue of the Buddha.’ Some people cannot believe. He says, ‘If this is the case everyone will commit evils.’ Such a thinking is negative and full of fear as his mind is dwelling in darkness. He is afraid that the world will go upside down. He cannot understand that as long as there is the existence, may they be a cat, a dog, a hell being, they will be taken care of by Amitabha Buddha. The only condition is they exist. This reminds me of the words of Great Master Tan Luan, ‘The future scholars who hear about the rescue of the Buddha, the rescue that relies on other’s strength, he should give rise to faith. Do not refuse such a chance. It is being stupid.’ Do not think that you should do this and that to obtain the rescue? Amitabha Buddha did not ask you to do anything. He says, ‘Living beings in the ten directions who have faith in me.’ It means they exist and the Buddha will be there to save them. Buddha recitation is not a condition. It is just a method of saving. Anita says, ‘I do not have to do anything to obtain this love.’ Just like a blade of grass in the water. Does it need to do anything to obtain water? It is unnecessary. As long as it exists, it is surrounded by the water. As long as we exist, we are surrounded by the love of Amitabha Buddha. We do not need to do anything to obtain this love and care. Once we know this, we will be fearless and calm at ease. This is the same as the sunlight which shine on the mountain and also the valley. In our life no matter what level we are we will receive the illumination of Amitabha Buddha. Anita says, ‘No prayer, no seeking is needed.’ Amitabha’s rescue is there always. As long as we recite, we will be saved by him. Amitabha Buddha says, ‘All living beings in the ten directions who call on me will be saved by me. You only have to say out my name.’ You say you are dumb and cannot call the name. Such a man who understands the rescue of Buddha will also be saved even if he cannot pronounce the Name. But if you are unwilling, you are creating an obstacle for yourself. That is why our dharma door is known as the ‘The Dharma is taught without being asked.’, the ‘Befriend us without being asked’. As long as we trust him, he will come personally to take us to his Pure Land. On hearing that nothing is needed to be done, some will be confused. They want to do something, to clean the altar, to change the water, to offer some fruits and incense, to sit in meditation and so on. They think this will help them to attain a rebirth. They have to do something. They do not realise what they need to do is to reveal the beautiful self, to lead the adorned life and let themselves become the love. As long as we sit there and lead a loving life we are in accord with the love of the Buddha Amitabha. When the sun is shining, you say, ‘It is good. A shiny day.’ When it is raining, you say, ‘Very good. It is raining now.’ When it snows, you say, ‘Good, I love snow.’ This way of living is to add the positive loving energy to this universe. You are spreading the pure and harmony energy to the universe. In the Buddha Dharma it is known as the lights shine on one another. The whole universe will receive the positive energy of your loving and harmonious mind. So, what you need to do is to recite Namo Amitabha Budda loudly, softly, silently. All will be ok. If we live this way, Amitabha Buddha will be most happy to see us. It is just like a child who is sleeping in the cradle. Doing nothing. What do you think? Will the mother be happy to see him like that? Yes, of course. She will be very glad with him just sleeping there. Nothing has to be done. A child in the arms of his mother is the revelation of total trust. And this is the same for us to be in the arms of Amitabha Buddha. We just relax and trust him. We will lead a happy life. And this is the genuine way of living in accord with the love of oneself. More often than not we lead a life with worries, fear, twisted emotions and trying to cover up our faults. Our adorned life cannot be revealed. Everyday, we live in fear and worries. This is adding chains and locks to ourselves. Anita says, ‘I have never truly loved myself before. I have never valued my existence. I have never seen the adorned soul in me.’ She uses soul to describe herself. In the Buddha Dharma this refers to the beauty and adorned Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I am so beautiful yet I have never realised it. It is replaced with the hard facts of mundane existence. I decay because I do not understand my beautiful soul.’ In the Buddha Dharma it is described as all living beings are originally the Buddha. Yet we do not live, in accord with our Buddha Nature. We are often controlled by our mundane existence, the salary, the examination results and such like. We forget of our Buddha Nature. We lead a life of decay, a life of erosion. This is the General path of Buddhism. From the angle of Buddha Recitation, the rescue of Amitabha is always with us, only that we do not realise it. We try all kinds of methods hoping for the Buddha to rescue us. We do not know that we just have to admit we are the mundane men who are covered with offences. There is no other way to save ourselves if we do not rely on Amitabha Buddha. Then we let go and recite the Buddha’s Name wholeheartedly. This is the way to be saved by the Buddha. But most people cannot understand this. They want to do something good, to be pretentious and make out something good of himself, to scold people for their lacking in virtues and such like. This is against the practise of this pure land door. Why cannot the people in the world see their pretention? It is because they are also not living a true life. Their eyes are not clear enough to see through this pretention. A fake man sees something fake and he will treat it as genuine. A clear -headed man will surely be able to see through all these false masks. If we were to wear a false mask for too long it will be difficult to remove it. It has grown on to our skin. It will be painful if we want to remove this fake mask. So it takes time for us to loosen this false mask as we have been wearing them for too long. Anita says, ‘This understanding makes me realise that I do not have to be frightened anymore.’ There is no more fear in her mind. It is a mind of calm and bliss. It is a mind which is full of hope. It is a comforting mind that can soothe others. With this calm and happy mind it is already a contribution to all around us. It is already a protection and mindfulness to all around us. We do not have to do anything at all. Most of us live in fear. We pay for insurance because we are afraid when we get old, we have no money, no money to pay the medical fees. We get married out of fear that we will be lonely. Why do we give birth to children? We are afraid no one will take care of us at old age. Why do we go to school? It is because we are afraid of our mother’s anger. Why must we study hard? We are afraid of our teacher. Why do we go to university? We are afraid people will look down on us. Can we live without fear? We cannot. Even our mother who loves us so much say we will suffer if we do not study hard. From our young age we receive the education of fear. We are threatened by our beloved parents, our responsible teachers. We do not receive the education of love. So, if we love our children, do not add fear to them. We must give only love and courage so that they can face life with their original positive energy, positive strength. This is because the world is full of twisted people, fake people, suffering people. There are very few upright men, genuine men, happy and hopeful men around. I only hope all of you my lotus friends will bring up a future generation who is upright, genuine, happy and hopeful with the strength of Amitabha Buddha. So, we must lead a life based on the right values taught by Amitabha Buddha. If we teach our child to fight for self -benefit, to contend with others, we are making them blind so that they do not see the truth of life. This is harming them. If we are enlightened to this, we will only rely on Amitabha Buddha. We are not afraid to be lonely. We will be at ease. Those who see the light, the warmth of the Buddha will no longer be frightened. Anita says, ‘I realise this is a state that can be reached by myself and everyone.’ In Zen sect it is said all living beings are Buddha. In the Buddha recitation door, everyone can recite the Name, everyone can attain a rebirth and everyone can accomplish Buddhahood. This is the bestowment by Amitabha Buddha. All the things that we fight for may not be beneficial to us. Everything that benefits us are often free. For example, the air we take in every instant is free. We do not pay to stand on the earth. We do not pay to look at the sky above. Whatever we fight and earn to get are valueless. Everything that is valuable is free. In the general practice it is said, ‘No cultivation is the cultivation. Nothing is obtainable. This is the state of a bodhisattva. The original face of all dharma often dwells in the mark of still extinction. Our Buddha Nature is replete with all merits and virtues. We cannot cultivate anything to enhance it. This is because all the things that we can do are only dreams, illusion, bubbles and shadow. Whatever that we do, that we create are not in accord with our Buddha Nature. The Buddha Nature is always there, original and shining out naturally. And in our Pure Land Dharma, whatever we have offered, whatever we have done are not the causes for our attainment of a rebirth. Attaining a rebirth is the state of nothing doing. It stays apart from creation or doing. It is a natural state. Reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha helps us to return to this state. Anita said, ‘So I decided to return to the mundane world.’ She has enlightened to the opportunity of life and she decided to come back to tell us about life. Just like many Pure Land cultivators who say that they will not come back any more to sufferings. Yet when they arrive at the Pure Land and brings forth the Bodhi mind, they will come back by themselves to help other beings. Anita said, ‘When I was on the verge of death, I realised the universe comes forth from unconditional love. I am one of the revelations of this love in my present form.’ For the scientists they will say the universe is made from electron, protons, neutrons and so on. This is talking only at the surface level, the materials. But as she talked from her true experienc,e she can see all the things, all the people are the expression of this universal love. When she comes back from death, she deeply penetrates the genuine love the mother universe and her wavelength is in accord with the universal love. She comes back as a healthy woman. So once there is a change in our mind set, the body, the people and the surroundings will also change. In the eyes of Buddha and Bodhisattva there is no differentiation of filth and purity. Everything is pure and adorned in its own expression. Every one of us is the art piece of this unconditional love or in the Buddha’s words, the Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I cannot change into another form as it is my original expression, original nature of this unconditional love.’ Everything that exists is the expression of the Buddha Nature. Even something which is defiled or unwholesome is also part of the expression of this unconditional everlasting love. That is why the Buddha says, ‘All the Dharma from the original state dwells constantly in still extinction.’ Still extinction refers to Nirvana the state of the Buddha. So, when we recite the Buddha’s Name we will enter the Buddha’s dwelling. ‘The energy capacity of the strength of life forms derives from love. And I am made from the universal energy capacity. On knowing this, I realise I do not need to become somebody else. And my true value will not be depreciated too.’ Anita said, So, it is unnecessary for us to become another man. A business man does not need to become Jack Ma. Why is this so? It is because you are equal to him. He is not higher than you. He has the Buddha Nature and you also have the Buddha Nature. Every one is equal. So we do not need to measure in terms of money especially if we truly know the benefits of Buddha recitation. In the eyes of the Buddha every one of us is a shining star. We do not need to chase after another star. Just imagine the havoc it will be when the stars do not dwell in its orbit and try to chase after another star. What a chaos the universe will become. Everyone of our existence is in perfect conditions in the eyes of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘This is the I that I have always wanted to be.’ she said. We must learn to appreciate ourselves, accept ourselves and love ourselves. This ‘I’ is invaluable under the unconditional love of the Rescue of Amitabha Buddha. We are his precious sons, the pearls on his hand. If we are accepted by the Buddha, we will be so happy as we will have no complaint about ourselves. We are often surrounded by people who keep on complaining about us. The first one is our mother who says that we are not clever, we have low marks. We are not filial. We earn too little. See how our mother teaches us not to appreciate ourselves. Then we are blamed by our teacher, our classmates, our girl -friend and so on. Then comes Amitabha Buddha who studies us and says, ‘Put aside all the complaints. You are qualified to attain Buddhahood. No problem at all. I give you 100 percent.’ That is why we Buddha Recitation Practitioners are always at ease under the shine of Amitabha Buddha who give us the confirmation. This is the greatest benefits the Buddha bestows upon us. Buddhism brings hope and bliss to the world, the universe. So, in this life’s time we must try our best to lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Do not be swayed by the mundane values, mundane eyes, mundane perspective. We rely only on the outlook of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘Once we know that we are this love, it is unnecessary to purposely go forth to shower love on others. As long as we are faithful to our original nature, we will automatically become the tools of love, touching the hearts of everyone who have affinity with us.’ This part of her speech is very good. If we are already the lamp, there is no need for us to go out purposely to shine on others. The lamp just stands at its place and it manages to brighten up the place. So, when we are the LOVE, we will naturally touch those around us with our love. Take a look at our Master Hui Jing. He sits there quietly and yet every one of us are calm and happy naturally. So when we become the love, wherever we are, all will feel calm at ease, without any fear. Anita said, ‘The most important thing I have learnt is I am the Love itself. All my fears are gone. This is the reason I come into life again.’ Amitabha Buddha said, ‘I will transform all the fear into great calmness, great serenity’ When We recite His Name we are charged with his love. We also become the love. We will leave behind all fear. ‘My dear, you will always be loved. You do not need to harbour any fear. There is no way for you to commit any errors.’ Always think about these three sentences. There is the light of truth in it. This is spoken by a non -Buddhist who was on the verge of her death and who lives again. How about us the Buddha Recitation Practitioners? Can we deny the love of Amitabha Buddha, His unconditional love of rescue? From this story we know the unconditional love of rescue of the Buddha pervasively surrounds us. We must have faith in this and lead a life of joy with no more fear. Nowadays, everyone lives in fear. We must learn to replete ourselves with love and bring this shine to others, to lead them out of fear. Love yourself and love others. Namo Amitabha Buddha. A dharma talk by Dharma Master Shi Jing Zong, the Abbot of the Hong Yuan Monastery in Anhui, China entitled: Dying Once to Learn to Love Link: https://oridharma.wordpress.com/2020/05/16/in-the-era-of-fear-i-comfort-them-with-great-love/

In the Era of Fear I Comfort them with Great Love
Anita Moorjani was cured from cancer not because of a certain medicine, vaccine or chemotherapy. She was cured because of this Great Love. Anita Moorjani is a forty years old woman who is simple and honest. She was born in India, grew up in Singapore and was English educated. Later she went to Hong Kong. She knows Tamil, English and Cantonese. In 2002 the doctor said that she was down with cancer lymphoma or the blood cell tumor. After four years, in 2006 seventy percent of her body is covered with the cancerous cells. She stayed in the hospital, suffering terribly because of this illness. Later the doctor pronounced her death. After three days she woke up and was cured miraculously. This is truly inconceivable when she woke up from her death. In her mind she was very sure she was cured already. No treatment was needed. But she was very weak. She could not even talk. The doctor was surprised of her condition and again they carried out a checking on her body and found that she was free from all symptoms of cancer. In her mind she knew she was already cured. In her mind there was a great transformation that she personally experienced. And all the cells on her body were transformed into healthy cells. Later she wrote a book entitles: After dying once I finally learn to love’ By looking at this title, it coincides with Master Shan Dao’s teaching on the one with deep faith in the dharma. He said, ‘Standing here is waiting to die. Going forward is also death. Turning back, I too cannot escape from death.’ This can be found in the ‘Analogy of two rivers and one white lane’ the three sure deaths. If we have died once, we will truly give ourselves up. This is the same as the Pure Land teaching that we have to admit we are the sinful mundane man. We lose all hope as we have no ways to leave the triple realm. In cultivation we need to really undergo a total death in order to really practise the path. The zen cultivator says this is known as undergoing great death and great living. Otherwise, no real cultivation can be expected because most of us are very arrogant, very self-centred, without much changes in our stubborn mindset. That is why she said after dying once only she managed to learn how to love. In the Pure Land door this is known as having deep faith. Such a man will surely have faith in Amitabha’s 48 vows to gather in living beings without any doubts and suspicion. By relying on the strength of the Buddha’s Vows we will surely attain a rebirth. This is living in the great love of Namo Amitabha Buddha. We receive the love of Amitabha Buddha. Only then we can have the genuine love and we are able to learn to love. If we do not feel the love of Amitabha Buddha, we will not know how to love. Our love will be frightening as it is an attachment, a desire to control, to possess others. Such a love is impure, it is a threat to us. If we are not careful it might turn into hatred. Such is a frightful kind of love. If we learn from Amitabha Buddha, the love is pure, without condition and transparent. This is truly loving a person. It is not easy to learn this. We look at the couples around us. So many got married and end up in divorce. How about those who do not get a divorce? Yes, they spend the whole life fighting！The truly loving couples are as few as the stars in the broad day light. So, learning to love is our homework for the whole life. It is not easy. Today I would like to discuss this passage with you. After reading her writing I feel most shameful as what the author has said is very true in accord with her experience. Even though I have left home for more than twenty years, receiving the teaching of the Buddha, the guidance of the patriarch, the exhortation of my Master, the help of my lotus friends and all, I still feel I am lacking in genuine practice and virtues. On the contrary this lady has not met with the Buddha Dharma. She has such an awakening after dying once, it is truly a gain for her. She said, ‘After my body stopped functioning, I entered into another world.’ She was so seriously ill that her heart, her liver and everything stopped functioning. This is to show there is a world after death. She said, ‘I saw myself as a very wonderful person. This is because I was not terrorised until I had a change in shape.’ ‘I felt there was this vibrant energy around me and I was able to enter it. I realise if a man can see his wonderful existence, he must be the happiest man.’ Most of us like to complain about our imperfect existence. We often think thus, ‘I do not have enough money. I am not healthy. I am not pretty. I do not have enough clothing ….’ Here we must learn to see the good points in us, to appreciate the value of our existence. A woman who can say like this is truly very calm in mind. A man who always complains about himself will not be able to live happily each day. So, without knowing the love of Amitabha for us, we will be a great complainer. We complain about no money, we complain about our look, our wrinkles and so on and so forth. What kind of life will this be with so many complaints? She said, ‘I found that there was this power surrounding me.’ When we pass away, we will no longer be using our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind to observe. Instead, we will be awakened to our innate Buddha. She felt she is surrounded by this vibrant field of energy and she is also this energy. What kind of power is this? It is a kind of energy. It is always in the universe or the dharma realm in the Buddhist terms. In fact, this is Amitabha Buddha. This is the strength of the Buddha Nature. She uses her Buddha Nature to experience the Buddha Nature. It exists forever. It is neither born nor become extinct. If the Buddha enters the world or does not enter the world, it is always there without changing. Of course, she does not use these Buddhist terms. She said, ‘When I give up the attachment to the mundane world, I enter another world effortlessly. It is unnecessary to pray, to recite a sutra or to give a dharma talk. It is unnecessary to seek forgiveness, repentance or other methods.’ ‘Death gives me the feeling that I do not need to do anything. It is just as though I am telling someone I am coming to the end. I cannot do anything anymore. I give up. Whatever you want to do I will just accept.’ I feel that this passage is very near in meaning to the Pure Land’s view. It means when we die, we have just to let go as nothing can be done anymore. Most people die in torment as there are many attachments in this world. They are worried about their children, money and work. Some people find it difficult to die. So, from here we must learn to let go when it is our turn to leave the world. Moreover, we have the promise from Amitabha Buddha who will come to receive us in accord with the strength of his vows. It is much easier for us. This lady just let go and she entered another world. Her state should be quite high too. I will explain below. I feel that she had arrived at the border of the Pure Land. Her state of an awakened mind showed that she was not in the heaven. She seemed to be enlightened to the Buddha nature and non -existence of a self. She experienced the light of enlightenment and returned to life, to lead a life of love. So, in our practice we are told to let go of all attachment and to wish for a rebirth in the Pure Land relying on Amitabha’s strength of vows. So from here we can see it is very easy to be born in the World of Ultimate Bliss. She said it is unnecessary to recite a sutra, a dharma or seeking for forgiveness. She enters the other world naturally when she simply gives up herself. I remember once I went with my Master to console a dying man. I was very touched by my Master’s words. He said kindly to the man who is on the verge of death, ‘So and so, now we will recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. If you can recite, then recite together. If you can’t, just lay down and relax. It is ok if you just listen to our recitation.’ Are not these words very comforting? The dying man will feel very safe and relax. But if you were to say, ‘So and so, this is the last chance. Bring out all your strength to face death. If you can recite then recite together. If you cannot recite, you must try also!’ On listening to this threat, the sick man is stressed out. He will die instantly as he has no strength to join in recitation. The Master who with his great love understands the rescue of Amitabha Buddha is a natural process that he is able to say in such a comforting way. No condition is needed. There is no threat nor fright in his words. A man who threatens people is not calm as he must be frightened too in his mind. That is why what he says will frighten people, giving stress to others. If we are loving in our mind, our words will only bring love, peace and calm to others. People will feel our love for them. So, this lady says it is unnecessary to read or recite any prayer or seeking forgiveness. This is because the wavelength of her mind is on a par with the great love of the universe. She naturally enters it. Namo Amitabha Buddha is a dharma that requires no seeking or pleading. It is a dharma of rescue without condition. When we recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, the wavelength of our mind is the same as Amitabha Buddha. So, we will attain a rebirth naturally. Many of us who do not understand the kindness of Amitabha Buddha will seek a rebirth by pleading to the Buddha every day. His mind is unsettled and frightened that he might be left out. This is because he does not understand when he recites the Buddha’s name, the wavelength of his mind is in the same frequency with Amitabha Buddha’s mind and vows. Then people will ask, ‘Do we still go to recite the Buddha’s Name for the dying man?’ ‘Yes, of course.’ This is because the dying man has yet to understand this point. When we recite for him, he will be safe in the shine of Namo Amitabha Buddha. This is a method which is bestowed upon us to save us with this Name in accord with the strength of the Buddha’s vows. When she says to somebody, this refers to Amitabha Buddha. She says she cannot do anything anymore and she gives up. She gives herself up to the Buddha. So, when we die do not try to fight with death and refuse to die. We must just admit we are the offender and we need the help of Amitabha Buddha to take us, to rescue us. Namo is to admit we take refuge in the Buddha, we surrender ourselves. When we cultivate this door, we must not add in our ideas. We must just let Amitabha Buddha to decide for us. This is because Amitabha has the power of great vow, the extensive great strength of the Buddha Nature, the strength of immeasurable light, the strength of immeasurable lifespan. We just have to give up all planning. He will plan for us. So, when we recite the Name of the Buddha, just recite without thinking of doing this or that trying so hard to reach a certain acceptable standard. These are all unnecessary. This type of thinking is the habit of the sagely path cultivators. When we sit on the plane, just sit there. The plane will bring you to your destiny. It is unnecessary for you to help the plane to fly. Amitabha Buddha the pilot does not need you to fly the plane. If he needs your help then he is not known as Amitabha Buddha. Anita said, ‘In the other world, I found that my mind is very clear and bright. I realise by myself that I will only die out of the fear and terror in my mind.’ These words are very true. Clarity of mind means her mind is pure. In this world our mind is turbid, dark and deluded. That is why are enveloped in all kinds of worries and terror. But once we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally be pure and bright. This is because the land is pure and is enveloped in bright illumination. She said she naturally know she will be cured. This knowing ability is possessed by us originally. No learning is needed because our Buddha nature is originally pure and bright. In the Saha world our ability is being covered up by afflictions. But when we arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss, we will naturally possess this ability. This ability reappears relying on the strength of Vows of Amitabha Buddha. When we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally possess the ability to make offerings to the Buddha. On hearing one sentence we are enlightened to the millions. Our mind is opened up to the thousands of million Dharanis. Everyone of us have this innate ability. And Amitabha Buddha’s strength of Vows enhances its opening. In this Saha World our innate nature is all covered up and cannot function. In the world of ultimate bliss, by relying on Amitabha Buddha’s strength of great vows, our innate ability is open up. So they are not contradicting. ‘I naturally know the source of the thought that I will die. The source is I was frightened. If there is no fear, there is no death.’ In actuality there is no death. It is only our fear of death that this illusion comes froth. In Buddha dharma we should know death itself is an illusion. Time is also an illusion. That is why the Buddha speaks all the Sutra in this manner, ‘Thus have I heard, at one time the Buddha was…..’ No specific time is stated. Now the physics has proven its illusory. As time is an illusion, it does not exist. Let me give you an example of what is meant by death. It is as if we are driving a car into a tunnel. The shape of the tunnel resembles that of a tomb. And we keep on driving into it. We say we are entering the tomb, that we are going to die soon. We are threatened as the entrance represents death. We continue on our journey in the tunnel and later leave the tunnel, again travelling on our way to another destiny. The entrance of the tunnel, the funeral wreath looks like the tomb. For us, death is a terrible idea that we are fearful of it. We do not know life is a continuity and there is no death. It is our wrong concept that there is this section of birth and death. No one can do anything about it until they personally realise it. ‘I am unable to live out my real self as I have too much worried.’ Most of us live in this world wearing a mask. If everyone of us is free to show our real self this is the most beautiful side of a self. Why cannot we live the way we should live? It is because we are always burdened with worries. We are worried we are not good enough. We are worried that our parents will scold us. We are worried our teacher will get angry and criticize us. We are worried about losing face. We only live for others. We lose our life away trying to accord to others’ expectation. We lose the light of a happy life. Our life is controlled by all these worrisome thoughts. But if we truly recite the Buddha’s Name, our mind will be at ease. Amitabha Buddha takes away our worries by replacing them with Namo Amitabha Buddha. We will realise all these worries and views are not important and we will gradually pay no attention to them. Our true life is Buddha recitation. That is our real identity. Our mind will be at ease as we will pay no attention to those unreal things, words and ideas. Our worries only arise when we care too much about the mundane matters. The author has not learnt about Buddhism. This is her experience in death. What she has written is very personal, true experience, not something that we learn from a book. Her experience gives her an awakening to the reality of life and she lives out her life in this awakening. I saw her video and I feel she is an enlightened person. An enlightened person may not be replete with spiritual penetration. But she will reveal her love in her daily living. She is calm at ease and without any sense of fear in her mind. She leads her life in a genuine way. She said, ‘I know that cancer is not a punishment neither is it a retribution. Cancer is my energy capacity which reveals itself on my body. Because of my fear I am unable to reveal the beautiful self in me. And this is the job which should be carried out by me. I know that cancer is not a punishment which is forced on me. It is not an external force of retribution.’ This is what we often do when certain things happen, we will try to find an excuse or put the blame on reward or retribution. We treat the misfortune with anger and hatred. We often have this tendency to catogorise every happening in accord with the cause or reason. In Buddhism we talk about cause and effect. As she is not a Buddhist she says, ‘Cancer appears as a result of a change in my energy capacity. This energy shows itself in the form of cancer.’ This is because she lives in fear and worries. She does not live out her real happy self. So if we the Buddha recitation cultivators are able to reveal the bright side of life, to live without worries, there will be no more cancer for us. This is her understanding about life. That is why I have often said, ‘Lead a life of a mundane man and recite the Buddha’s Name sincerely.’ We should lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Our life will be full of light and blessings. And we will become more loving. Finally we will lead a comfortable life and people around us will be comfortable also. This itself is the propagation of the dharma of love. Otherwise, if we cannot live a loving life, there is no point talking about anything as they will be useless. Anita said, ‘In that state which is vast and limitless, I found that I am too strict with myself. I keep on whipping myself.’ Can we feel the existence of being vast and limitless? No. We are often limited by our surrounding. As she had entered the limitless vastness, she is able to know her whole life. She knows her fault is being too strict with herself. In fact, most of us are very strict with ourselves, demanding ourselves to be like this or that. She said, ‘No one is punishing me. The person whom I cannot forgive is I myself. I have abandoned myself. I do not love myself. This matter is none of others’ business.’ No one from outside comes to punish us. It is we who punish ourselves. We cannot forgive our selves. We add on a lot of unnecessary locks and chains on ourselves. What is more for us the Buddha reciters? If we recite the Buddha’s name and on the other hand, we add on ourselves lots of locks and chains whence Amitabha Buddha is trying to unlock us, isn’t this a most pitiful situation?’ She said that she had abandoned herself. It means we throw ourselves away and become a lone ranger, an isolated person living a life of sadness, a live without love. Look at a baby. Her eyes are clear as the baby is a simple being, just like a simple puppies or baby cat. The baby can play with chickens, puppis as she does not give rise to diffentiation. Not everyone of us is like Anita. But every one of us can recite the Buddha’s name. When we recite the Buddha’s name, we will be calm. Amitabha Buddha said, ‘In the world of fear I comfort them with great love.’ It is because all the worries are gone when we accomplish Buddhahood at the Pure Land. We will not be so worried about our poverty, health problem, ugliness, stupidity, inability to recite a sutra, a mantra. All these are unimportant as finally I will become a Buddha in the Buddha Land. We will be more humorous. For example, if we are ugly we will use it as a joke. It does not matter at all. Because all the external states are not you. The real self, our real life is the Buddha’s Name. It is our true identity. It will bring ease to our mind. A baby is pure. But as it grows up, it starts to abandon himself. A baby resembles a glass of pure water. When he grows up, his greed starts to accumulate when he wants a toy, a book, good results, money, benefits, fame women and so on. All these are placed in the glass of water. Everything is a piece of mud that we put in out glass. The more we put into the glass, the more the water will flow out. This water is the genuine self. We abandon the true self, chase it out with our greed. We fill ourselves with all the rubbish. The genuine blessings and bliss are chased away. We lead an opaque life without transparency. Our life become a glass of muddy water and we live in great torment. The more we obtain, the more we lose ourselves. That is why the Buddha is truly kind. He and his disciples lead a life of a beggar. When you have nothing, you will be happy and relax. The mind retains its purity. Human beings are deluded as they think to possess a wife, children, a house, a car are called blessings. A man who truly loves himself does not love money, sex, fame, food, sleep. These five desires are the knives that will cut us into pieces and bring on great sufferings. Anita said, ‘I realise I am the child of the beautiful universe. As long as I exist, I will obtain this unconditional love.’ This is very good. I would like to make the following changes, ‘I realize that I am the son of the adorned Amitabha Buddha.’ In Buddhism we use adorned to replace the word beautiful. The universe is this Amitabha Buddha. In the Sutra we are told Amitabha Buddha is the Treasury Body of the Dharma Realm. Amitabha Buddha exists in the whole of the Dharma Realm. Of course, there are also the reward body and transformation bodies beside the dharma body. Amitabha Buddha is the immeasurable wisdom and lifespan. Anita says that the universal energy is abundant and inexhaustible, vast and without limits. This is the existence of the Buddha Nature. She says as long as she exists, she will surely obtain the unconditional love. I often also say, ‘No conditions are required for us to receive the love and rescue of Amitabha Buddha.’ Let us take the analogy of a tree. As long as it exists, it will receive the sunlight. No other condition is needed. So it is the same for the house and everything on earth. Amitabha Buddha’s Name is also known as the Light that Far-surpassing the Sun and Moon. Amitabha Buddha’s light pervasively illumines all the living beings and things in the world. As long as we exist, we will receive the light of the Buddha, the protection of his loving kindness and rescue. It is unnecessary for us to become somebody so as to receive the unconditional rescue of Amitabha Buddha. Our Master Hui Jing also wrote a book on the ‘Unconditional Rescue of the Buddha.’ Some people cannot believe. He says, ‘If this is the case everyone will commit evils.’ Such a thinking is negative and full of fear as his mind is dwelling in darkness. He is afraid that the world will go upside down. He cannot understand that as long as there is the existence, may they be a cat, a dog, a hell being, they will be taken care of by Amitabha Buddha. The only condition is they exist. This reminds me of the words of Great Master Tan Luan, ‘The future scholars who hear about the rescue of the Buddha, the rescue that relies on other’s strength, he should give rise to faith. Do not refuse such a chance. It is being stupid.’ Do not think that you should do this and that to obtain the rescue? Amitabha Buddha did not ask you to do anything. He says, ‘Living beings in the ten directions who have faith in me.’ It means they exist and the Buddha will be there to save them. Buddha recitation is not a condition. It is just a method of saving. Anita says, ‘I do not have to do anything to obtain this love.’ Just like a blade of grass in the water. Does it need to do anything to obtain water? It is unnecessary. As long as it exists, it is surrounded by the water. As long as we exist, we are surrounded by the love of Amitabha Buddha. We do not need to do anything to obtain this love and care. Once we know this, we will be fearless and calm at ease. This is the same as the sunlight which shine on the mountain and also the valley. In our life no matter what level we are we will receive the illumination of Amitabha Buddha. Anita says, ‘No prayer, no seeking is needed.’ Amitabha’s rescue is there always. As long as we recite, we will be saved by him. Amitabha Buddha says, ‘All living beings in the ten directions who call on me will be saved by me. You only have to say out my name.’ You say you are dumb and cannot call the name. Such a man who understands the rescue of Buddha will also be saved even if he cannot pronounce the Name. But if you are unwilling, you are creating an obstacle for yourself. That is why our dharma door is known as the ‘The Dharma is taught without being asked.’, the ‘Befriend us without being asked’. As long as we trust him, he will come personally to take us to his Pure Land. On hearing that nothing is needed to be done, some will be confused. They want to do something, to clean the altar, to change the water, to offer some fruits and incense, to sit in meditation and so on. They think this will help them to attain a rebirth. They have to do something. They do not realise what they need to do is to reveal the beautiful self, to lead the adorned life and let themselves become the love. As long as we sit there and lead a loving life we are in accord with the love of the Buddha Amitabha. When the sun is shining, you say, ‘It is good. A shiny day.’ When it is raining, you say, ‘Very good. It is raining now.’ When it snows, you say, ‘Good, I love snow.’ This way of living is to add the positive loving energy to this universe. You are spreading the pure and harmony energy to the universe. In the Buddha Dharma it is known as the lights shine on one another. The whole universe will receive the positive energy of your loving and harmonious mind. So, what you need to do is to recite Namo Amitabha Budda loudly, softly, silently. All will be ok. If we live this way, Amitabha Buddha will be most happy to see us. It is just like a child who is sleeping in the cradle. Doing nothing. What do you think? Will the mother be happy to see him like that? Yes, of course. She will be very glad with him just sleeping there. Nothing has to be done. A child in the arms of his mother is the revelation of total trust. And this is the same for us to be in the arms of Amitabha Buddha. We just relax and trust him. We will lead a happy life. And this is the genuine way of living in accord with the love of oneself. More often than not we lead a life with worries, fear, twisted emotions and trying to cover up our faults. Our adorned life cannot be revealed. Everyday, we live in fear and worries. This is adding chains and locks to ourselves. Anita says, ‘I have never truly loved myself before. I have never valued my existence. I have never seen the adorned soul in me.’ She uses soul to describe herself. In the Buddha Dharma this refers to the beauty and adorned Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I am so beautiful yet I have never realised it. It is replaced with the hard facts of mundane existence. I decay because I do not understand my beautiful soul.’ In the Buddha Dharma it is described as all living beings are originally the Buddha. Yet we do not live, in accord with our Buddha Nature. We are often controlled by our mundane existence, the salary, the examination results and such like. We forget of our Buddha Nature. We lead a life of decay, a life of erosion. This is the General path of Buddhism. From the angle of Buddha Recitation, the rescue of Amitabha is always with us, only that we do not realise it. We try all kinds of methods hoping for the Buddha to rescue us. We do not know that we just have to admit we are the mundane men who are covered with offences. There is no other way to save ourselves if we do not rely on Amitabha Buddha. Then we let go and recite the Buddha’s Name wholeheartedly. This is the way to be saved by the Buddha. But most people cannot understand this. They want to do something good, to be pretentious and make out something good of himself, to scold people for their lacking in virtues and such like. This is against the practise of this pure land door. Why cannot the people in the world see their pretention? It is because they are also not living a true life. Their eyes are not clear enough to see through this pretention. A fake man sees something fake and he will treat it as genuine. A clear -headed man will surely be able to see through all these false masks. If we were to wear a false mask for too long it will be difficult to remove it. It has grown on to our skin. It will be painful if we want to remove this fake mask. So it takes time for us to loosen this false mask as we have been wearing them for too long. Anita says, ‘This understanding makes me realise that I do not have to be frightened anymore.’ There is no more fear in her mind. It is a mind of calm and bliss. It is a mind which is full of hope. It is a comforting mind that can soothe others. With this calm and happy mind it is already a contribution to all around us. It is already a protection and mindfulness to all around us. We do not have to do anything at all. Most of us live in fear. We pay for insurance because we are afraid when we get old, we have no money, no money to pay the medical fees. We get married out of fear that we will be lonely. Why do we give birth to children? We are afraid no one will take care of us at old age. Why do we go to school? It is because we are afraid of our mother’s anger. Why must we study hard? We are afraid of our teacher. Why do we go to university? We are afraid people will look down on us. Can we live without fear? We cannot. Even our mother who loves us so much say we will suffer if we do not study hard. From our young age we receive the education of fear. We are threatened by our beloved parents, our responsible teachers. We do not receive the education of love. So, if we love our children, do not add fear to them. We must give only love and courage so that they can face life with their original positive energy, positive strength. This is because the world is full of twisted people, fake people, suffering people. There are very few upright men, genuine men, happy and hopeful men around. I only hope all of you my lotus friends will bring up a future generation who is upright, genuine, happy and hopeful with the strength of Amitabha Buddha. So, we must lead a life based on the right values taught by Amitabha Buddha. If we teach our child to fight for self -benefit, to contend with others, we are making them blind so that they do not see the truth of life. This is harming them. If we are enlightened to this, we will only rely on Amitabha Buddha. We are not afraid to be lonely. We will be at ease. Those who see the light, the warmth of the Buddha will no longer be frightened. Anita says, ‘I realise this is a state that can be reached by myself and everyone.’ In Zen sect it is said all living beings are Buddha. In the Buddha recitation door, everyone can recite the Name, everyone can attain a rebirth and everyone can accomplish Buddhahood. This is the bestowment by Amitabha Buddha. All the things that we fight for may not be beneficial to us. Everything that benefits us are often free. For example, the air we take in every instant is free. We do not pay to stand on the earth. We do not pay to look at the sky above. Whatever we fight and earn to get are valueless. Everything that is valuable is free. In the general practice it is said, ‘No cultivation is the cultivation. Nothing is obtainable. This is the state of a bodhisattva. The original face of all dharma often dwells in the mark of still extinction. Our Buddha Nature is replete with all merits and virtues. We cannot cultivate anything to enhance it. This is because all the things that we can do are only dreams, illusion, bubbles and shadow. Whatever that we do, that we create are not in accord with our Buddha Nature. The Buddha Nature is always there, original and shining out naturally. And in our Pure Land Dharma, whatever we have offered, whatever we have done are not the causes for our attainment of a rebirth. Attaining a rebirth is the state of nothing doing. It stays apart from creation or doing. It is a natural state. Reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha helps us to return to this state. Anita said, ‘So I decided to return to the mundane world.’ She has enlightened to the opportunity of life and she decided to come back to tell us about life. Just like many Pure Land cultivators who say that they will not come back any more to sufferings. Yet when they arrive at the Pure Land and brings forth the Bodhi mind, they will come back by themselves to help other beings. Anita said, ‘When I was on the verge of death, I realised the universe comes forth from unconditional love. I am one of the revelations of this love in my present form.’ For the scientists they will say the universe is made from electron, protons, neutrons and so on. This is talking only at the surface level, the materials. But as she talked from her true experienc,e she can see all the things, all the people are the expression of this universal love. When she comes back from death, she deeply penetrates the genuine love the mother universe and her wavelength is in accord with the universal love. She comes back as a healthy woman. So once there is a change in our mind set, the body, the people and the surroundings will also change. In the eyes of Buddha and Bodhisattva there is no differentiation of filth and purity. Everything is pure and adorned in its own expression. Every one of us is the art piece of this unconditional love or in the Buddha’s words, the Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I cannot change into another form as it is my original expression, original nature of this unconditional love.’ Everything that exists is the expression of the Buddha Nature. Even something which is defiled or unwholesome is also part of the expression of this unconditional everlasting love. That is why the Buddha says, ‘All the Dharma from the original state dwells constantly in still extinction.’ Still extinction refers to Nirvana the state of the Buddha. So, when we recite the Buddha’s Name we will enter the Buddha’s dwelling. ‘The energy capacity of the strength of life forms derives from love. And I am made from the universal energy capacity. On knowing this, I realise I do not need to become somebody else. And my true value will not be depreciated too.’ Anita said, So, it is unnecessary for us to become another man. A business man does not need to become Jack Ma. Why is this so? It is because you are equal to him. He is not higher than you. He has the Buddha Nature and you also have the Buddha Nature. Every one is equal. So we do not need to measure in terms of money especially if we truly know the benefits of Buddha recitation. In the eyes of the Buddha every one of us is a shining star. We do not need to chase after another star. Just imagine the havoc it will be when the stars do not dwell in its orbit and try to chase after another star. What a chaos the universe will become. Everyone of our existence is in perfect conditions in the eyes of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘This is the I that I have always wanted to be.’ she said. We must learn to appreciate ourselves, accept ourselves and love ourselves. This ‘I’ is invaluable under the unconditional love of the Rescue of Amitabha Buddha. We are his precious sons, the pearls on his hand. If we are accepted by the Buddha, we will be so happy as we will have no complaint about ourselves. We are often surrounded by people who keep on complaining about us. The first one is our mother who says that we are not clever, we have low marks. We are not filial. We earn too little. See how our mother teaches us not to appreciate ourselves. Then we are blamed by our teacher, our classmates, our girl -friend and so on. Then comes Amitabha Buddha who studies us and says, ‘Put aside all the complaints. You are qualified to attain Buddhahood. No problem at all. I give you 100 percent.’ That is why we Buddha Recitation Practitioners are always at ease under the shine of Amitabha Buddha who give us the confirmation. This is the greatest benefits the Buddha bestows upon us. Buddhism brings hope and bliss to the world, the universe. So, in this life’s time we must try our best to lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Do not be swayed by the mundane values, mundane eyes, mundane perspective. We rely only on the outlook of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘Once we know that we are this love, it is unnecessary to purposely go forth to shower love on others. As long as we are faithful to our original nature, we will automatically become the tools of love, touching the hearts of everyone who have affinity with us.’ This part of her speech is very good. If we are already the lamp, there is no need for us to go out purposely to shine on others. The lamp just stands at its place and it manages to brighten up the place. So, when we are the LOVE, we will naturally touch those around us with our love. Take a look at our Master Hui Jing. He sits there quietly and yet every one of us are calm and happy naturally. So when we become the love, wherever we are, all will feel calm at ease, without any fear. Anita said, ‘The most important thing I have learnt is I am the Love itself. All my fears are gone. This is the reason I come into life again.’ Amitabha Buddha said, ‘I will transform all the fear into great calmness, great serenity’ When We recite His Name we are charged with his love. We also become the love. We will leave behind all fear. ‘My dear, you will always be loved. You do not need to harbour any fear. There is no way for you to commit any errors.’ Always think about these three sentences. There is the light of truth in it. This is spoken by a non -Buddhist who was on the verge of her death and who lives again. How about us the Buddha Recitation Practitioners? Can we deny the love of Amitabha Buddha, His unconditional love of rescue? From this story we know the unconditional love of rescue of the Buddha pervasively surrounds us. We must have faith in this and lead a life of joy with no more fear. Nowadays, everyone lives in fear. We must learn to replete ourselves with love and bring this shine to others, to lead them out of fear. Love yourself and love others. Namo Amitabha Buddha. A dharma talk by Dharma Master Shi Jing Zong, the Abbot of the Hong Yuan Monastery in Anhui, China entitled: Dying Once to Learn to Love
https://oridharma.wordpress.com/2020/05/16/in-the-era-of-fear-i-comfort-them-with-great-love/

So back story here and it’s LONG.. buckle in.. We purchased a home in rural Ontario, in a small hamlet with about <100 people. A majority of our neighbours are Mennonite- specifically to the right and left of us. There is a new subdivision right near us, and expansion is bringing a lot of people from all walks of life. So I wouldn’t say we moved into “Mennonite” territory.
We purchased the house in June - and upon closing our left side Mennonite neighbour had put up a 9ft fence on closing day, a couple inches from the property line - and did not inform us he was planning such. It obscures our backyard access from our left, but again it was a surprise on closing. Ok, we moved in and got over the Fort Knox wall, and decided to just leave it be and not make waves as new owners. He said he wanted his privacy, our driveway is shared, we understand that the homes are very close together.
Then this same neighbour informed us he had bought the small parcel of land behind us, and that he would be doing whatever he wanted with said land. A parcel that creates an L shape around our property. We were upset, and asked him if we could buy the land off him, he refused and stated a ridiculous price tag it was thrice what that dirt patch is worth, but he knows that. So we conceded and decided to let it go.
We noticed that there were some more items on the list that were a bit shady of our left neighbours, including a barn shed that was built too close to the property line for its size, and for our lot sizes. Think 20x25 by 17ft tall. Massive. Not code. Likely not permitted. I mentioned this to him in passing - he threatened if I called bylaw on his barn that he’s a Mexican Mennonite… whatever the hell that means.
Fast forward to another month, left neighbour planted corn in behind our backyard. It was nice to look at, I was pleasantly surprised that’s what he was doing w the parcel so we just went about life…until…a smell. Sitting outside in my yard I suddenly felt I was transplanted into a cattle farm. I couldn’t figure why my house was COATED in flies. So I decided to take a stroll around the corn he had planted and found 3 calves. In 1/8th of an acre/parcel of land. Directly down wind was our home and worst of all, our drinking well and the property is on a slope. I was furious. I immediately approached him and told him to remove his cattle - that it’s not allowed in a residential setting, and he told me, that it’s zoned agricultural, and he will remove them “when it’s convenient for him.” I was not impressed by his behaviour, he basically brushed me off as if it was his land and too effing bad for me. So I waited. And waited. 2 months passed by and my backyard was officially unbearable of smell. I called bylaw. They instructed him to remove cattle immediately, and he did within 7 days. Now he knows it was me, as the right neighbour (also Mennonite) to the other side of us is close with him.
This lovely Mennonite sandwich we have here - was also partaking in cattle maintenance and also didn’t inform us, but there were multiple occasions honest conversation could have happened. During bylaws visit - left neighbour was told to get rid of his chickens, which he did and then brought back. Here’s where right neighbour comes into play. They also have illegal chickens, and use our back yard as an egg freeway to trade and swap things for chickens, eggs, whatever. This happens all day. At various times. No problem even when we’re privately in our hot tub or sitting by our fire. ZERO CARE for our privacy. Front yard is just as open - but they would rather use backyard where they’re bothering us.
So… I called bylaw again. And put a stop to chicken egg freeway. What do you think? Am I the only one who would handle this situation this way? Aitah?!

Long story, my husband claimed that I'm dangerous and have serious psychological issues and got a restraining order on me two years ago (for him, not the kids). He claimed I was having a psychotic break (after he attacked me in the middle of the night).
Since then, I've been seeing my kids (now 2 and 3) in their daycare with no problems and did 6 months of supervised visits with no issues. I also did a psych eval that showed I didn't have any major issues that would make me dangerous to the kids. I've never had a history of psychosis or any severe mental health issues.
About a year ago I started unsupervised visits after I filed a motion which ramped up to overnights (roughly 70/30).
My husband didn't renew the restraining order this past winter and we're currently co-parenting (transferring the kids over at the local PD). A GAL is working to decide what's best for the kids and I'm trying to understand how else I can show I'm a fit parent. My husband still maintains that I'm psychotic and a danger.
I've taken parenting classes, am in therapy and support groups, have taken CPR classes, and make sure that my kids are a priority in my life. I've never missed a visit, make clothes for them, make sure they have lunches that they can eat at daycare and that they're well-dressed and well taken care of. They both have beds at my home with plenty of clothes and toys (they share a bedroom in my apartment, but I'm planning on trying to buy something after the dust settles on the divorce). We go to the library frequently for their events and we get tons of books out (which we read). I volunteer at the kid's daycare whenever they need help. I'm not an expert, but the kids seem really happy here. I live two blocks from my husband's place so the kids can have familiarity (but we still both drive to the police station 30 minutes away to do the transfers). It's an expensive neighborhood but it's also good for the kids so, I figure.
When I've spoken to the GAL, I've tried to keep my comments solely limited to what I think is best for the kids, and try not to bring up my husband at all in my discussions with them. When my husband has family in town I try to reschedule so the kids can have time with his family. I've also joined a church of his religion so that the kids can be brought up in the same tradition at my home (I haven't converted). I've maintained a position that my husband and I should have a 50/50 split of the kids, both legal and physical. My ex wants full legal custody and no modification to the current 70/30.
Of course I want what's best for the kids, but it also breaks my heart that I can't spend more time with them. I know he's claiming that I'm still mentally unwell and that I'm abusive, but I honestly don't know how to refute that. A lot of what he says is a skewed version of what happened. I also don't have any proof against his claims because he makes the claims without any supporting evidence.
Anyhow, I'd love to hear any thoughts that might set my expectations or offer me perspective on how the court would see this. Please let me know if there are any obvious things I've missed. I know it's hard to comment without knowing the full details of my case, but I'm trying to prepare myself for the worst.

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

So I (f63) got up 6:00am as usual, at my computer in home office by 6:20, out the door at 6:45am. Drive hundreds of miles for work, meeting customers, shuttling a Sr Product Mgr from corporate around, dragging demo products in the rain, and finish up to head home. I call my contractor husband, (m54) to see if he wants to meet me for dinner in town since I won’t be home until 5:30 and I’m starving. He says he can’t due to meeting homeowners to discuss their build. I say I will just plan on cooking burgers for dinner when I get home.
I arrive home to find them all sitting at the kitchen island. I’m shocked but I don’t want to disturb them so I head to my office to do some work. I wait until 6:45, I’m starving, and then I leave for a 30 min drive to town to get something to eat. I get back home at 8:15 and they are still there. Nice couple but they want to chit chat and very politely explain I was out early today, I’m exhausted and I need to take a shower. She sweetly says oh sure , we’re almost done. They don’t leave until 8:30.
I am not happy when my husband walks in the bedroom that I’m hiding in until they are gone. We don’t have a big house. I say that this isn’t a place of business and that was really thoughtless of him. Especially since I could have stayed in town to eat and then come home.
He defended it. Saying he told me he had a meeting. (Never said it was at our house). Doesn’t he have a say, this is his house. Where is he supposed to have a meeting? I said their house. It’s an apartment. I have an office. I said I’ve told him to build an office in his huge 4 bay barn. Encouraged it. He defends his actions .

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

I'm toying around with speeds to get cad bane faster than bam and wanted to plan ahead, I won't have any 6 dot mods on cad bane but potentially for bam. Hypothetically, how much higher relic does cad bane need to be with all 5 dot mods to be faster Than a bam with and without 6 dot mods. Could not find any up to date resources.

I lost my dog about a month ago and am still struggling through some grief.
I got my dog with my dad when I was in college. She lived with my parents while I lived with them, and then eventually when I moved out, she continued to live at home with them but I would come home every weekend and spend days with her. The last two years, I was struggling significantly with mental health challenges which made it difficult for me to go back home. The time we had together dwindled to holidays while I had to put my mental health first.
I had not seen my dog for about a year and I had finally made plans for my parents to bring her and her sister over to my house to enjoy my backyard and for us to reconnect. When they arrived, it was very obvious to me that something was wrong with her and she was acting strange, like she was in pain. Within 48 hours, we discovered she had a sudden spine fracture caused by an aggressive bone cancer that never showed up on her bloodwork and I had to make the difficult decision to euthanize her at home.
Our last few days together, she was not excited to see me. I had her stay at my house while I nursed her 24/7. Usually she was a dog that wouldn't stop giving me kisses and smiling. I understand that she was in pain, so although I was deeply upset and internalizing the change, I put it out of my mind. Then, our last day together, hours before the vets were meant to arrive at my house, my brother walked in and my dog got SO excited, her tail going crazy despite being in pain (though at this point she was heavily medicated to keep her comfortable) and giving him so many kisses.
In my last video with her, I asked her for a kiss and she didn't give me one. That was something we used to always do. I would ask for one, and she would kiss my nose and I would say "thank you". Usually, she would steal another. This time - nothing, even when I asked again. She never showed the same amount of excitement to see me, and in comparison, seemed very detached from me at all. I can't seem to get over that.
I've heard from my mom that my dog has visited her in the afterlife, but I have had no signs from my dog since then, even though I've asked and begged. I asked for her to come visit me during my graduation, and instead, I got two signs back to back of young baby animals lost and abandoned from their moms. (I'm serious. We suddenly found a baby bunny who couldn't climb the curb and had lost its mom. The next day, a baby bird that had fallen out of a nest that we couldn't get her back into, and her mother couldn't get her back into.) I feel like she was mad at me in our final days together, and I'm having trouble both accepting it and processing it. I do have time with a therapist soon, but was curious if anyone could offer perspective or thoughts in the meantime.
It's the one thing during this mourning process that I'm completely stuck on and, frankly, makes me nauseous. I very rarely put myself first in life and the first time I have to because of my mental health, I feel like I ended up hurting a piece of my family that was so important to me. Even though I wasn't physically there, I had been the reason she had so many fun toys and treats and everything. I know she can't understand that.
My mom tells me that I'm being silly because she was in pain, but to me, not in pain enough not to get excited to see my brother. Any words will be helpful.

So I’m planning on getting a budgie soon and I want to know what feed to get it, what what toys to get it and any other tips for getting a new budgie. I’m also wondering what taming will be like, how affectionate are budgies?

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Hello fellow redditors...recently retired at 69, and I want to stay active so I am starting to restore some items. I started out with garden/yard tools, then a home made wooden noah's ark for a child. The ark is only about 2 feet by 1 foot wide by about a foot high. It is home made and was gifted to me for my little one. It was starting to fall apart and needed a lot of glue and wood crack filler. I've spent about 4 hours on it now and I am ready to sand it then paint it.
I watch Rick's Restoration on the defy channel and they are right to charge a lot for a project. I am also working on a vintage pipe wrench that someone painted yellow and the paint is in every little nook and cranny so it is taking very long.
Does anyone have ideas for cleaning chemicals to use on projects? I have some but I keep experimenting with different types to find out what is the best one. I plan to start advertising to do restoring projects as I am enjoying every minute of it and It will be a good supplement to my income. Any advice will be much appreciated..Thanks!

Edit, now that I've had a good cry and a re-set shower: I guess I wanted to clarify I am a first time chicken Mom. I researched all this heavily before I got them and I've been around my Dad's flock before, but we don't talk anymore so the people I turn to aren't around as much.
I don't really wish to re-home them, but maybe having a bit of a wobble in feeling like I don't have help or anyone to ask for advice to make decisions and generally overwhelmed.
I have 1 rooster and 11 hens to clarify. The oldest set is 14 weeks the youngest is 6 weeks. They get completely changed out (food water bedding) every day and I try to interact with them all daily as much as I can.
Part of the hold up on the run has been leveling out a space for them (my property is sloped) and waiting on my cousins with the big boy toys to help me put in rail ties and gravel for the foundation of the coop.
***I got chickens for eggs, plus I've always loved birds, I worked for an exotics hospital in London, and now that we are US based (and had more space) I maybe dove in deep water too quickly in getting 12 chickens.
They are great birds, I love them, but I've run into some issues.
First of all the coop and the coop costs. I was only planning on 4. Got 12 and now I'm scrambling trying to get a coop together that will keep everyone happy in.
I have 3 separate groups of 4, and I am having difficulty integrating them which is impacting the coop set up and cost because I'm trying to make sure nobody hurts themselves or others.
My allergies are going haywire. I did not really fully understand how dusty they can be. I knew there was dust- but I didn't even know I was massively allergic to dust, I mean I never struggled before this bad but 10 minutes with my birds and I literally am pouring even with meds.
I am someone who gets animals intending to keep them for their lifespan, but I'll be honest I am really starting to feel like I am in over my head. I live with my Mom, we have a house together, and she's made it clear after I got the birds they would go with me where ever I go when I move out, which is fair, but if I had known that firm stance I would've considered it further. I don't know where I'll end up. I only just got my mental health sorted after losing my late boyfriend 3 years ago and I thought the chickens would give me something to look forward to, something to feel productive with.
I don't know what the future holds for me... I just want to do right by the birds but I'm feeling bad about it and it don't have anybody to talk to about it or anybody to pull me back from the edge.
Any advice would be really useful- sorry for rambling I am literally bawling while writing this because I feel like I am failing these birds.