Growing up, my grandfather used to tell me stories about his adventures as a sailor. He was an old-school mariner who has journeyed every corner of the seven seas. And one thing that always baffled me was his uncanny ability to navigate without modern technology. His instrument? A mental map.
So, imagine me being stranded in the woods - don't freak out, it's a hypothetical scenario. Initially, I'd be panicked and struggling to find my way back. Then, my grandfather's wisdom would kick in. I'd start using the sun as a compass, distinguishing landmarks, trying to chart out a mental map. The way back suddenly wouldn't seem so daunting anymore.
But here's the catch - mental maps are entirely based on my perception. They're subjective, influenced by my experiences and knowledge. For instance, in my mental map, the woods might look like a straight path back home when it actually wasn't.
Now, let's shift gears and talk about mental representation. It's like having a coded version of reality inside your head. For instance, if you imagined a dog, you don't necessarily need to picture a specific breed or color. You're tapping into the abstract concept of 'dog-ness' which your brain has represented from all dog encounters in your life.
In the woods scenario, it would be like remembering the 'general concept' of woods - trees, animals, plants, etc. Yet, it wouldn't necessarily help in specific navigation.
In summary, a mental map is like GPS, subjective and influenced by personal experiences. In contrast, mental representation is like a library of abstract concepts, helping you to perceive and interact with the world.
P.S. I'm glad this was a hypothetical scenario... I'd probably survive better in a mall than in the woods. So no, I didn't really get lost in the woods, but I hope this gives you a fun perspective on how mental maps and mental representations shape our lives daily!

I was called out for a wellness check with my partner last month. The home was in the middle of an upper middle class neighborhood. Everything was in full bloom. Trees lined the still street and the sidewalks buckled and erupted in several places from tree roots pushing them upwards.
Vibrant lawns everywhere. The only thing aged and weathered in the entire neighborhood were the painted address numbers on the curbs next each driveway.
Lots of money on that side of town.
The house was an old craftsman two storey. Most of the houses were.
All the window shades were pulled and the car that was in the driveway had spiderwebs along the wheels and a thick layer of dust over the windshield.
The landscaper had called in because the owner had not been seen in two weeks.
The owner was an elderly man who lived alone.
After knocking on the door several times, we walked around the house.
The landscaper had only been charged with maintaining the front of the house. The backyard was nothing like the front. The lawn was completely overgrown. The flower beds were full of brilliant colors of flowers. Weeds had started to infest all of the flower beds and were beginning to take over. Several trees were in the yard, shading over half of it. Lots of flies and other insects were buzzing in and out of the shadows. They were so loud.
Right in the middle of the lawn, there was a blue tarp that was staked down on all four corners. A muddy shovel lay next to the tarp.
My partner walked over and pulled up one of the stakes and peeled part of the tarp back. Over a dozen spots of fresh dirt, a small hole, and several areas of newly seeded grass were underneath. He jumped backward and started swatting at his pants legs as he ran over to the patio.
He said he felt them crawling all over his legs.
He started stamping his feet.
I watched the tiny bugs fall off of his legs onto the hot concrete and then skitter and jump as quickly as they could back into the shelter of the thick shady lawn.
We knocked on the back door and found that it was open.
As we walked inside, my partner kept swatting at his legs as I yelled out that we were police just doing a wellness check.
All the lights were off.
The kitchen and the laundry room were perfectly clean and organized with the exception of a thin layer of white dust with thousands of tiny black specks on every surface.
The dust had a faint chemical odor. We realized that it was all over the floor as well. The thousands and thousands of black specks amongst the white dust were tiny dead bugs. They looked like mosquitos without wings. Just like the ones that were on my partner in the backyard.
We turned on every light as we walked through the home. The white powder was spread over every floor, although we couldn’t see any of the bugs if they were present due to the nap of the carpet.
We continued through the home until we found the old man in the bathroom.
There were a variety of smells inside that turned our stomachs and we were fighting back the urge to vomit. When we turned on the lights, we saw the old man naked on the toilet. His head hung down and he wasn’t moving.
There were several bottles of iodine in the wastebasket and a dried out sponge was in the sink that was covered in it. The old man had smeared it over the entirety of his body, and it had stained the porcelain bowl underneath him. His skin was raised around his feet and ankles, and several places on his abdomen were broken out in bites. I put on latex gloves before I would even touch him.
His pulse was very weak.
My partner called in an ambulance.
I turned toward the shower. There was a towel covering something next to the drain.
I opened the glass door. I meant to slowly raise the towel, but as I moved it slightly, several of those small bugs ran across my glove. I reacted suddenly, and the towel was flung against the back wall of the shower. I closed the shower door and smashed the things on my glove.
The towel had been covering a large mass of bugs that began to jump and skitter as they were exposed to the light. Most of them crawled down into the darkness of the drain, while a small few were jumping back and forth against the glass of the shower door.
On the bottom of the shower were the remains of something that looked like a baby. The bugs must have been feeding on it.
My partner and I both began to back out of the bathroom and the old man made a noise.
We both witnessed several patches of skin on the old man that seemed to quiver and move. The thin skin of his temples rose and fell as something underneath was moving.
The old man raised his head, and his breathing increased. He stared at both of us.
“It’s not me.”
Both of us were dumbstruck and had no idea of what to do. Then one of those damn bugs crawled out of the corner of his eye and ran across his face.
I’m not proud. Neither was my partner.
We got the fuck out the house.
We were not going to go back in there unless we were wearing some sort of protective gear. On our way out, I noticed that the thousands of black specks spread out in the white powder in the kitchen were gone, and as we ran past the back lawn, we could both see thousands of the things jumping within the grass.
My partner continued to feel the bugs crawling on him for the rest of our time there despite there being none that I could see.
It’s been several weeks since the incident. The old man died in the hospital; organ failure after severe dehydration. The investigation found that it was a baby in the shower. There was no evidence of trauma present. When the backyard was inspected, the tarp was removed and several more bodies were found that had been buried within the last six months and again, no evidence of trauma was present.
All of the bodies were babies, and all of the DNA testing came back the same for every single one of them.
Identical.
They were all genetically identical to each other and to the old man.
Not a single bug was found that matched our descriptions although a fair amount of excrement was detected in the carpets.
All of this is public record, although it hasn’t been reported, which to say the least, is very unusual.
My partner has been institutionalized by his wife. She found him in his workshed in the middle of the night taking a wire brush to himself, swearing that the bugs were hiding in his skin.

I was called out for a wellness check with my partner last month. The home was in the middle of an upper middle class neighborhood. Everything was in full bloom. Trees lined the still street and the sidewalks buckled and erupted in several places from tree roots pushing them upwards.
Vibrant lawns everywhere. The only thing aged and weathered in the entire neighborhood were the painted address numbers on the curbs next each driveway.
Lots of money on that side of town.
The house was an old craftsman two storey. Most of the houses were.
All the window shades were pulled and the car that was in the driveway had spiderwebs along the wheels and a thick layer of dust over the windshield.
The landscaper had called in because the owner had not been seen in two weeks.
The owner was an elderly man who lived alone.
After knocking on the door several times, we walked around the house.
The landscaper had only been charged with maintaining the front of the house. The backyard was nothing like the front. The lawn was completely overgrown. The flower beds were full of brilliant colors of flowers. Weeds had started to infest all of the flower beds and were beginning to take over. Several trees were in the yard, shading over half of it. Lots of flies and other insects were buzzing in and out of the shadows. They were so loud.
Right in the middle of the lawn, there was a blue tarp that was staked down on all four corners. A muddy shovel lay next to the tarp.
My partner walked over and pulled up one of the stakes and peeled part of the tarp back. Over a dozen spots of fresh dirt, a small hole, and several areas of newly seeded grass were underneath. He jumped backward and started swatting at his pants legs as he ran over to the patio.
He said he felt them crawling all over his legs.
He started stamping his feet.
I watched the tiny bugs fall off of his legs onto the hot concrete and then skitter and jump as quickly as they could back into the shelter of the thick shady lawn.
We knocked on the back door and found that it was open.
As we walked inside, my partner kept swatting at his legs as I yelled out that we were police just doing a wellness check.
All the lights were off.
The kitchen and the laundry room were perfectly clean and organized with the exception of a thin layer of white dust with thousands of tiny black specks on every surface.
The dust had a faint chemical odor. We realized that it was all over the floor as well. The thousands and thousands of black specks amongst the white dust were tiny dead bugs. They looked like mosquitos without wings. Just like the ones that were on my partner in the backyard.
We turned on every light as we walked through the home. The white powder was spread over every floor, although we couldn’t see any of the bugs if they were present due to the nap of the carpet.
We continued through the home until we found the old man in the bathroom.
There were a variety of smells inside that turned our stomachs and we were fighting back the urge to vomit. When we turned on the lights, we saw the old man naked on the toilet. His head hung down and he wasn’t moving.
There were several bottles of iodine in the wastebasket and a dried out sponge was in the sink that was covered in it. The old man had smeared it over the entirety of his body, and it had stained the porcelain bowl underneath him. His skin was raised around his feet and ankles, and several places on his abdomen were broken out in bites. I put on latex gloves before I would even touch him.
His pulse was very weak.
My partner called in an ambulance.
I turned toward the shower. There was a towel covering something next to the drain.
I opened the glass door. I meant to slowly raise the towel, but as I moved it slightly, several of those small bugs ran across my glove. I reacted suddenly, and the towel was flung against the back wall of the shower. I closed the shower door and smashed the things on my glove.
The towel had been covering a large mass of bugs that began to jump and skitter as they were exposed to the light. Most of them crawled down into the darkness of the drain, while a small few were jumping back and forth against the glass of the shower door.
On the bottom of the shower were the remains of something that looked like a baby. The bugs must have been feeding on it.
My partner and I both began to back out of the bathroom and the old man made a noise.
We both witnessed several patches of skin on the old man that seemed to quiver and move. The thin skin of his temples rose and fell as something underneath was moving.
The old man raised his head, and his breathing increased. He stared at both of us.
“It’s not me.”
Both of us were dumbstruck and had no idea of what to do. Then one of those damn bugs crawled out of the corner of his eye and ran across his face.
I’m not proud. Neither was my partner.
We got the fuck out the house.
We were not going to go back in there unless we were wearing some sort of protective gear. On our way out, I noticed that the thousands of black specks spread out in the white powder in the kitchen were gone, and as we ran past the back lawn, we could both see thousands of the things jumping within the grass.
My partner continued to feel the bugs crawling on him for the rest of our time there despite there being none that I could see.
It’s been several weeks since the incident. The old man died in the hospital; organ failure after severe dehydration. The investigation found that it was a baby in the shower. There was no evidence of trauma present. When the backyard was inspected, the tarp was removed and several more bodies were found that had been buried within the last six months and again, no evidence of trauma was present.
All of the bodies were babies, and all of the DNA testing came back the same for every single one of them.
Identical.
They were all genetically identical to each other and to the old man.
Not a single bug was found that matched our descriptions although a fair amount of excrement was detected in the carpets.
All of this is public record, although it hasn’t been reported, which to say the least, is very unusual.
My partner has been institutionalized by his wife. She found him in his workshed in the middle of the night taking a wire brush to himself, swearing that the bugs were hiding in his skin.

I'm getting toward the bottom of my gigantic, overdo pile, so some of these may even be from within the last 30 days :)
u/t3ctim: Love my Australian dingo card related to my Golden Ratio offer :) That is a very cool picture! Smooches to Honey :)
u/which_flan_9504: TY for my very cool hand made stickered up postcard with the awesome stamps. I love your printing. So sorry to hear the message you sent-Let me reassure you that you ARE NOT ALONE, friend! You have a whole community standing behind you here, and a friend willing to listen in me! Sending you lots of positivity and good vibes!
u/vanish-inks: TY for my super cool Mr. Waffles TY p/c! I can just picture him taking his Baby Yoda everywhere! None of my dogs have been big on taking their toys with them, and I think that is so absolutely adorable! I lost my sweet pittie a couple of years ago, so the household is down to me and my cat at the moment. I've promised him no other interlopers, so no new pets are on the horizon. I do help a local dog rescue transport dogs between facilities though, so I get a little fix in that way!
u/rennbrig: TY for my very cool mystical forest, fairy tale-esque postcard! I love that style and that one in particular is beautiful!
u/cswl x2: I got a jam packed envelope from you last week-two awesome cards, plus some goodies! Your dream vacation sounds awesome! I was supposed to go on an Alaskan cruise a few years back, and we couldn't do it. We've just never gotten it together to make it happen!
u/Reasonabl_Ad1688: TY for my very cool postcard of the Albert in London! I loved reading about Powell's and in fact, they were one of the cards in my bookstore p/c set. IDK if I chose that one for you or not, but wouldn't that be funny if I had? I would love to visit there one day. I've been to the Strand in NYC which is also massive and that was pretty cool. Love the buy back feature too-sounds like a great place!
u/purpleroots: TY for my Franz Kline postcard from earlier this spring. Loved your pen drawings, and the cool effects you used on my name. It has inspired me to doodle more! I'm getting back into some artsy/crafty endeavors after not doing much on that front. I am dipping into watercolor and found postcard blanks in watercolor paper, so I hope to be able to send out something with them soon! Also, the postmark from Big Dog Race Station was so cool!
u/DianaPenPal: TY for my random mailing in mid April! I loved the pretty postcard, llama coloring piece and stickers you sent and decorated with! I have been saving the llama, and I'm glad I did. I just got watercolor pencils and I want to try them out on this cutie! TY for the rec on Britney's memoir. I too would have been unlikely to pick that one up, but maybe I will. I just finished Ella Minnow Pea yesterday. It was good, funny, creative, but also disturbing given the political times we are in. I recommend it !
u/annoyinglangers x2: TY for my two adorable Easter cards. My favorite was the pastel colored chicks popping out of eggs in a carton-SOOO cute :) All the envelope stickers were awesome and your personalized return address labels are always so cute-I love seeing them. Sending you lots of good vibes, my friend! I haven't sent out much lately, but I've been thinking of you and hoping all is well!
u/princecowboy: I cannot tell you how much I absolutely love this whole thing you sent me (geesh, maybe even in late 2023! So sorry I'm so late, especially for such a touching card!) I adore everything about it-Cowboy as royalty, his story, the story of Pups On Parole, your compassion for the inmate who worked with Cowboy, the 3D model of Cowboy (which sits on my desk so I can gaze upon his cute when writing or working upstairs!), and the gorgeous black and gold theme with the envelope. I miss my pit mix who's been gone almost 2 years every day, and my heart isn't healed enough to bring home another sweet dog yet, so everything about this just brought me a lot of joy and peace-this is one of the most special cards I've ever gotten here. TY to you and Cowboy, and please give him all my love!!
u/FollowingTheBeat: How did you know that I have an affinity for lightening bugs? I loved this sweet card from our own special baby raspberry :) I loved the heart and star doodles you added :)
u/thecaledonianrose: girrrrl-you send me so many awesome postcards! I am always behind just on your TY's alone :) This is for the "treasured romance" postcard of the watercolor style woman with a parasol and child in a wildflower field, from way back in April! So pretty-TY for always being a faithful postcard pal!!
u/onebadjoke: TY for my blue fish notecard! I haven't always lived here-I grew up in the midwest and lived in Philly for decades. When I wanted a bigger yard for my dog, I decided to look over here vs. the PA suburbs and the rest is history! I would love to explore your adopted country more; been there once and just loved it! I made it to the shore for a few day trips this spring. I'm hoping to stay for awhile in the early fall! I leave the busy summer days to the hard core beach crowds, LOL!
u/mallorn_hugger: OMG!! I think you win the (unfortunate) award of absolutely latest TY!! I believe this letter from you is from LAST SPRING :( when I made a strawberry themed offer! I LOVED your strawberry cake stationery from S. Korea and all the beautiful strawberry stickers you used and sent me. I love all the cool, quirky, unusual stationery items found throughout Asia. I have cousins in Japan and a friend who periodically travels to Hong Kong and they bring me fun stuff like sometimes. I really loved this, and I feel terrible that I forgot your TY for so long!

Introduction to the snow:
The main character is alone, believing there is nothing left to life. “Alone at the edge of the universe,” “only two can make it right,”
Isle unto thyself:
The main character is in love with a beautiful woman, however he has occasional doubts, as all relationships go.
“I was a victim of magic, Apollo, catching my breath as I bled on the ground,” he was taken by love when he was at his lowest point.
At the end, “why is any and everything alive,” he is beginning to fall back into his depressed lonely state, as his relationship is separated and feels nonexistent at the time
Black rainbows:
The relationship is currently at a point where the two feel disconnected from each other, and they're reminiscing about how the relationship used to be
“'Ele'ele, 'ele'ele,” (“Black Black Black” in Hawaiian,) in the background voices after the same voices say the colors of the rainbow in Hawaiian shows how the relationship went from a happy colorful relationship to being apart from each other and only ‘blackness’ is there anymore
White Ball:
The two go on a trip together to help become closer together and fix the emptiness in their relationship
They begin to fall deeply in love with each other again, just as they used to at the start of the relationship
“Today is renewed, is reborn,” the relationship is finally becoming what it used to be
Murders:
The two are still deeply in love, and decide to be free and childlike and explore the woods together
She is killed.
“All, for nothing at all,” all the time they spent together, just for her to be killed, the main character is devastated
Space station level 7:
She's dead
The mind electric:
The main character is wrongfully accused of the murder and taken into court, however he is in a horrible mental state, unfit for court, and he pleads insanity without properly thinking
This is when he begins the mental degradation, shown by both lyrics and in the original song, the backwards playthrough and glitching
Labyrinth:
While in a mental institution, the main character realizes he's growing less sane, so he tries to convince himself that his dead girlfriend wasn't all that great, and that she was manipulative, to try to ease the pain
“Behind me my ex girl's chasing me, in front of me the next girl's facing me,” he’s downplaying the love of his dead girlfriend and thinking he can move forward to another girl
Time machine:
The main character begins to grow more insane, realizing he can live out scenarios in his head and pretend they're real
“Live the dream with a time machine,” “I can drift away to any time I like,” the main character can just make everything perfect in his head
“You'll have time enough to spend some time alone,” somewhat explains itself, everything now is the institution, leaving him alone to play with his thoughts
“I'm alone,” he's realizing he's all alone, but it quickly goes back to the chorus, as he's ignoring reality and living in his imagination
Stranded lullaby:
In my opinion this song isn't really that important, a lot of shipwreck metaphors in the song, emphasizing how lonely, lost, and beyond saving the main character is
Dream Sweet in Sea Major:
The main character is reliving past memories with his dead girlfriend, and is imagining a perfect life with her
“It feels like flying, but maybe we're dying,” as he relieves the past memories, he feels happy again, but in reality, he's just spiraling down a state of irreparable madness
“One light, higher than the sun, invisible to some, until it's time” one light, referring to his dead girlfriend. Higher than the sun, referring to in heaven. Invisible to some until it's time, meaning she can't be seen “until it's time” (aka. until death)

Hello,
The content of this post applies to any and all violent pro-Palestine protestors and figures who wear a mask during demonstrations/activity.
There are a number of ways to identify people besides their face. Save all available pictures and footage. Catch their tattoos, and note their exact body type: hair color, eye color, scars, warts, etc. Also note their basic size.
If one wanted to go a step further, and reveal those who could be dangerous, and/or foreign actors, one can attend the event and offer them some form of drink, and then get the cup back for their DNA. One could also wait to see if they throw a drink in the garbage, and grab it.
And one can also start a conversation with them and record their voice, if not also get personal info about them.
This could be if say, if one wants to identify a masked protestor who is verbally, or holding a sign threatening others.
When handling evidence, make sure to wear latex gloves and immediately put it an appropriate container, avoid all potential cross-contamination, and then consult with your local authorities.
If they do something, their DNA/prints will be on file.

This is an older movie I remember watching once or twice from my childhood (early 2000s) and that specific scene has always stayed with me. For extra context, it’s an older movie 1990s or older (may be in black & white or early color). A bunch of people get stranded on an island, one who is a young mother with an infant that is usually wrapped in cloth. The tides are strong, there may be tree like huts created, resources are low, and for this specific scene the mother is in a smaller boat with a man who brings them just far out enough to sea in which the mother can bury her baby in the sea so to speak. Scene follows with a shot of the dead baby sinking in the ocean before they head back to the others.

—
“.....”
Rika stared at her hand, at the backside of her palm, her skin color is that of an overripe and sweet sapodilla. She doesn't know what that thing is, but that's what her dad used to call it, apparently some sort of fruit, but she doesn't know what fruit is either. it’s slightly blue now, stained by the blood of a… thing. She looked at it, the… she doesn't know what to call it, pink thing… pink… pinky? Sounds good enough for her, she looked at pinky.
“hmm…”
Pinky is… weird? She's seen some weird things in her life, an irradiated wasteland can always hold a surprise, but this is… peculiar. In a way she couldn't really put her finger on, more so because she can't touch pinky for too long because they are really cold. But she wants to touch pinky, pinky is interesting. Pinky has four eyes, no hair, and a beautiful skin, she's almost jealous.
“.....”
Her curiosity took over and she scooted over to where pinky is, laying on her bed, with bandages on their tummy. She's honestly not sure why she instantly knows that pinky is bleeding, when she found them in that fire pit, created by that blue light that came from the clouds. Actually, she remembers it quite fondly. She remembered her dad coming back home, bleeding from his tummy, and asked her to fetch some bandages. He told her it was done by bad guys.
Poke
“Pinky? Are you awake?”
Poke
He told her bad guys don't like her, or dad, and want to kick them out. Dad said don't listen, and fight back, since then she really hates bad guys, and thought everyone but her and her dad are bad. She got a lecture for thinking that, and her dad told her not everyone is bad, some people are good, friends he called it, Rika never had friends before but she would love to have one someday.
Poke
“Hello?”
Poke
As Rika continuously poked Pinky, she wondered if Pinky is a bad guy or friend, or maybe they got hurt by a bad guy, are there bad guys in the clouds?. Pinky looks nice, they don't look like bad guys, but who knows, once her dad said that bad guys sometimes lie and make themselves look like friends.
“Wow…”
Pinky’s skin is cold, very cold, it hurts if she touches it too long, but if she touches it for just a few seconds, it’s actually comfortable. So Rika did just that, occasionally putting her palm on Pinky, and enjoying the cold. But suddenly Pinky doesn't feel as cold anymore, she was wondering why when Pinky woke up, and slapped her.
—
“AHH! Get away from me!”
“@#!”
Ciro’s not having it today, she just woke up, and expected maybe the white and yellow of her ship’s medical bay, the feeling of a soft bed on her back, hoping maybe all that she saw before is just a very long and weird dream.
“Shoo! Shoo!”
“...?”
It isn't, unfortunately. She woke up to the brown and black of a cave, and the feeling of what barely passes as a bed laying on rough sand and pebbles on her back, it is not in fact a very long and weird dream. It is, in fact, reality, reality is terrifying as they say and she would agree, as she immediately sees the creature again the very next second of her eyes opening.
“Shoo! Get out of here! D-d-don’t hurt me!...”
“€π?”
“W-what?”
It spoke…? In language she doesn't recognize, it seems… confused? She's not sure if whatever the creature is doing with its face counts as an expression. But it does seem… curious, undeniably so, it tilted her head at her, and looked at her with its curious brown eyes before leaning forward. That, of course, scared the soul out of Ciro.
“Eek! Stay away!”
Now it looks surprised, kind of. It backs away slightly, with their back facing the entrance of the cave, a harsh ray of sunlight peered through the cave’s mouth and some violent wind can be heard. It still stared at her, with that… admittedly… beautiful brown eyes, she's never seen it before. She found herself locking gaze with the creature, feeling a strange sensation as she did.
“Uhm…….. hi”
She suddenly strangely relaxed, as if she didn't just experience ejecting out of her exploding ship and meeting a foreign alien right after. But it got her mind calm, and more rational, now that she is, she should probably stop calling it creature, it's undoubtedly sapient. It had clothes, a terrifying helmet as she recalls, and clearly some decent technology, looking at… gnarly looking weapon resting on the wall next to them.
“π¥! ¥^# £¥¢@!”
It- no… they spoke again, it kind of sounds like an introduction, but it's not like Ciro knows what it means so who knows, could be a threat. They kept staring at her, rather inappropriately. Their eyes wandered to somewhere on Ciro’s lower body, and pointed at it with one of their five clawed fingers. She was about to think about the predatorial implications that the claw gave her, but she's too busy panicking about the wound on her stomach right now.
“Oh God…”
It’s patched up, neatly and appropriately, but also rather tightly. The moment she became aware of it the pain came rushing through like a busted dam. She held her stomach as she curled to a fetal position, tears coming out of her eyes.
“Argh…!”
That's when a hand grabbed her shoulder, she looked up to see the… she should really give it a name, the first thing to come out of her pained mind is critter, and she stuck with it. Critter was staring at her, they seemed to be worried, Critter looked around, before getting up and running towards a dark green colored backpack. Critter rummages through it, before finding what they were looking for, signified by them going what Ciro assumes to be “AHA!”
“Huh?”
They ran up to her and presented it in their hands, an assortment of what look like pills, they're giving her medication?
“I… i can't, i don't know what's in it, it can- ergh!... Mmph… it can kill me…”
Critter insisted, all the while looking at her with all the worry in the world, for a second she wanted to question why it’s so… passionate? The amount of compassion shown to someone they probably have never seen before, it’s kind of sweet. She would appreciate it, if she's not in great pain right now, with a shake of the head she refused the pills, leaving Critter confused and even more worried.
“Sorry… i can't”
Ciro closed her eyes, maybe if she can get her mind away from it the pain would recede. She got nothing, even though her kind is known for how well they can handle their own minds she can't seem to suppress it. But when something touched her head she calmed down, it felt warm, and comfortable, and soft. She opened her eyes again to see Critter…
“...?”
“Uh…”
Are they…. Are they petting her? They are, and it… it feels good, oddly so.
—
Rika caressed Pinky's, they seemed to be in pain and when she offered them painkillers, they refused, she was at a loss at how to calm them down, until she remembered something. When she was little, she found a stray kitten that wandered near her home. It was crying and she had no clue how to calm it down, until she touched the kitty’s head and petted it.
“Okay? Are you okay?”
Her dad didn't like kittens, made him go achoo achoo, he calls it… al… ler… gi…? Something like that, she's not very good at spelling. Doesn't matter though, Pinky looks to be enjoying it, they're not crying any more, that's good if you ask her. A couple of minutes pass, filled with nothing but oddly awkward silence and the sound of someone being petted.
“Hmm?”
When she was done Pinky had completely stopped crying and holding their tummy. At the same time they seemed to snap out of a trance, and looked at her, she replied with a smile, after remembering that Pinky doesn't speak like her.
“Hi!”
She tried anyway, surely anyone knows what a "hi" is right?. Surely, as sure as the lightness in her head, she felt it suddenly, it was unpleasant and it felt like someone was poking the inside of her head.
“Ow…. That hurts”
She laid down on the cave floor, and wondered why she's like this all of a sudden. She looked at dust carried by the wind outside. It might be that the air can be kind of funky sometimes, she should really cover the cave with a tarp. She did just that, though making sure the tarp’s color can blend in with the surrounding is a little hard when she can barely even focus from all the lightheadedness.
“There… set and sound… ow…”
She's still feeling it, even more severe now. Probably because it already got to her, oh well, what can she do? It should pass soon enough, she's been through more, a headache is not going to take her down, maybe. She sat down next to her rifle and sighed, messaging her head as she did, it relieved some of the pain, but didn't make it go away.
“Hmph…”
Maybe she should go back trying to talk with Pinky, maybe that can calm it down-
“Hey…”
“Huh?”
—
One thing Qo’kvells can do other than telepathically communicate with each other is… look into the mind of a non-Qo'kvell. Unethical, dishonorable, despisable, medically problematic, since it hurts anyone who isn't mentally capable, which everyone who is not a Qo’kvell. But… it can help, in some things. Like… knowing the ill intentions of others, or a problem in their mind, or getting to know them, or… learning their language.
“Ow…”
And she has never seen a language so complicated it hurts her head just thinking about it. Not until she probed Critter’s head, to see if there's a way to communicate, it visibly affected them, but they handled it far-far better than anyone else, most would pass out in the first 3 seconds, Critter seems mostly unfazed. From it, she knows a lot, but understands few, she did learn Critter is a she, so hey, fellow girls at least.
“Mmh… oh… I shouldn't have done this…”
And her intent is well, she's trying to help her, the pills she offered were painkillers, and she saved Ciro from her pod’s burning wreckage. She suppose she can thank her, but learning a language takes some time and brain effort, and it certainly hurts, so she holds off for now. Critter’s memory is hazy, and hard to reach, it’s almost like her brain is actively fighting against her telepathy.
Maybe I should say something… hmm… this is… a word for introduction right? I hope, please don't be a slur or something’
“Hey…”
“Huh?”
‘did it work?’
“H-hi…”
From Critter's memory, she learned that waving her hand seems to be some sort of introductory gesture, so she did that. She was expecting shock, but what she got was a very happy Critter, who seemed to instantly forget about their headache.
“you can talk!”
“A… small-”
‘wait, no that's wrong’
“Me… mean… little?”
‘That's also wrong, what in the lands below is this language?!’
“Who are you? What's your name? I'm Rika! I’m friend!”
She can barely understand that wall of words, she did hear a name… Wi… no, Ric… e? No, wrong again, Ri… ka…? Sounds… correct-ish. She also noticed she was being asked her name, she tried her best to piece it together using the strange letters of Rika’s language.
“am… Ce… ehm, no… Ci… Ciro”
“Ciro? Oh man… Pinky is not right at all”
She has no clue what Rika is talking about, and it’s probably best she doesn't question it. But now she has to ask the important questions. She tried her best to form a sentence in her head before trying to speak. She could just try and probe again, but her head’s not having it so neither does she.
“When… no, me mea- no… I mean… Where… am… i?”
“Hmmm? oh, we’re in a cave”
“I… know… I mean… what place?”
“What? Uh… Oh! Yes, you’re not from here, sorry, we’re in a desert! My dad calls it wasteland, i don't know why, i don't a see a lot of trash out here”
Wasteland? Desert wasteland? Ciro was curious, what kind of species prefers to live in a desert? Wasteland no less?
“Why?”
“The whole world is like this, dad calls it end of the world, i don't see anything ending out here, so i don't really know”
End of the world… Ciro realized the grim implications of that sentence and frowned, with a bit of pity towards Rika.
“”stranded in post apocalyptic planet, great””
“What? You speak weird again”
“Oh… apologiz- uh, i mean, sorry, it is n-native… mouth”
“Oh, i’ve heard of that, dad used to tell me other people can speak another way, can you teach me?”
Rika’s eyes light up, she seems oddly innocent and childlike in… well… apocalypse, for gods know how long. She suppose education isn't as strong as it used to be in that condition, but shouldn't Rika be a bit more… aware?
“N-no, it… hard”
“Aww… it’s fine, you can speak like me anyway, how do you do it?”
“I…”
She's not sure what to say, Rika probably doesn't know what telepathy is, or maybe and she does, Ciro’s got nothing on her culture.
“Just… special… thing, i can do”
“Ooh!... What is it?”
“Difficult… explain… t-to explain, i mean”
“It’s okay… are you good? You’re wounded, i took care of it but you were still hurt”
“Am… fine”
She's really not, but she's functional which is good enough, Rika’s work on her wounds was surprisingly exceptional.
“Great!... Hmm… do you want to go with me?”
“W-where?”
“Hold on! Let me get it!”
Rika ran to her bag again, and took out some sort of… square? It unfolded to a large rectangular shape, is it made of… paper?
‘Her species still uses paper?’
She was a bit confused, if they can make advanced medicine then shouldn't they be way past that? Then she was reminded by the sound of the violent wind outside.
‘oh yeah… apocalypse’
She ran back to him all excited, Ciro can practically taste the thick naivety of this girl as she spoke with the largest smile she has ever seen.
“We’re here, not too far away from my home, but that's not where I'm going! I wanna go here! Look!”
She pointed to a drawing that resembles a mountain.
“It’s a really tall mountain! My dad’s been there before! He said it looks very pretty!”
“What… for?”
“To meet someone! My dad said there's someone very special there! That I should meet them! He said it’s important for everyone too… but he wanted to tell me first!”
Rika kept mentioning this “”dad””, and Ciro is going to go out on a limb to guess this dad is her parent.
“Is… dad mother?”
“Wha? No! My dad is a man! Strongest man ever!”
‘so a father?’
“Where is… dad?”
All the light in Rika’s eyes disappeared, replaced with something that made Ciro uneasy. Even when only partially connected, she can feel a strong feeling of sorrow from Rika, if she was probing her head Ciro probably would have been dead or atleast incapacitated from the sudden emotional overload.
“I…. Sorry”
“It’s okay… but he told me to go here, he gave me everything he has, and taught me everything, he said it can save me, everyone, i don't know what he means… but i’ll do it, for him, it’s all he always wanted”
Her voice wasn't as energetic as before, far from it. Ciro noticed that Rika glanced at the terrifying looking weapon on the wall, it seems it's more than just a tool of self defense.
“Ah… anyway, do you want to come with me?”
Ciro weighted her choices, she doesn't know this planet, she doesn't know how it is like after whatever happened to it, she doesn't know if others of Rika’s kind are as friendly as her, or if they even consider her approachable at all, she doesn't know how to survive, she's not that kind of person. At this point, she's not even worried, she nodded in response to her question, and perhaps, in a pleasant turn of event, Rika lit up once again, back to how she was.
“So you want to be friends?!”
“Y-yes…”
‘that feels regrettable in the long run’
“Yeeee! First friend! Uhm… oh, i forgot to ask, where are you from? Why are you riding that light?”
“What?”
“I save you, from a burning pit, light from the sky landed there, are you from up there? Why are you here?”
Ciro decided it doesn't hurt to just tell Rika, she would probably be more impressed and excited than terrified that there are other civilizations out there.
“Am from… uh… space, above sky, i am a…. Ko’k ehm… Q… Qo’kvell…”
“Above the sky? In the stars?”
Ciro was right, she looks absolutely excited.
“Yes… my kind… explore stars, am explorer”
“Oh! Are you exploring down here? What is it like up there?”
“Hard… to explain, explain… later”
“Aww… okay… let's go now should we? Storm is smaller now, we can go”
Rika was right, the wind outside had calmed down.
“Shure… S-sure, i mea- AHH!”
Rika pulled her up from her sitting position, and tore through cover protecting the cave from the winds outside. Outside was… bright, and hot, unpleasant, they seemed to be in a valley between two mountains. All Ciro can see is a dry landscape where trees used to be, hinted by the dry stumps barely poking out of the gravel and sand. A complete terraformation is she has to guess, something hit this planet hard.
“Wait here! I'll go get my stuff first!”
Ciro wondered how Rika managed to survive all this, but the more time she spent with her the more it seems to her Rika grew up in all of this, not forced into it.
‘how long has it been?’
“Let's go! We’re still far from it!”
Rika came out of the cave, bag on her back and weapon in hand.
“Where… is… vehicle?”
“Oh! It’s right here!”
She walked up to a large rock and pointed to it, Ciro was confused until Rika grabbed it and it turned out to be some sort of camouflage cover. It was nearly invisible, blending in with everything else, and it's clear why that is, her vehicle isn't the most discreet. Two wheels, all black, armored plates for the front and rear were welded to a long metal pole which itself is bolted on the vehicle’s side, acting as a mount for the armor.
“Hmm…”
“Cool right? My dad made it himself! He said it can’t ever go down!”
“Good… protection”
The mostly rubber wheels are slightly spiky, and have large ridges, probably to get better grip on smooth sand, and spikes for snow maybe?. It has two seats, one in front, one in the rear, surprisingly comfy looking seats despite all its brutal aspects. Rika got on it, and inserted a metal key, and the vehicle let out a fearsome roar. A mechanical Ignition tells Ciro that Rika’s kind probably isn't incredibly advanced.
‘no offense Rika…”
“Come on up! Another storm is probably coming soon! We don't want to get stuck!”
“O-okay…”
She got up on the back seat, it’s apparently leather, she wondered what kind of animal it came from.
“Ready?”
“Ye- EEK!”
Rika accelerated without warning, causing Ciro to almost fall off, she held onto Rika by hugging her, it felt inappropriate, but she seems fine with it. Ciro’s fine with it too, she's oddly comfortable to hold, maybe it’s just the heat from her body, she noticed that in the cave when she was being… petted, Rika's kind must be hot blooded.
‘Sigh… stranded in a wasteland planet, with a species never encountered before… How lucky am i?’
It would be any star mapper’s wet dream, that's for sure, she just wishes it went a little different, less explosions and less being stranded.
‘if only you’re here, mom’

A brand new chapter! And this time we get to meet a member of Davey's family. I hope it doesn't end up being to humiliating for anyone......
Visit my mother? At work? In a fever dream I barely remembered getting into the car with the Smith family. We made the short drive across town and pulled up outside “Hoots”. The neon sign flickered, which mimicked a crude depiction of female breasts. The place always made me feel uncomfortable. When we walked in, I suddenly thought otherwise. It wasn’t really as scummy as I remember I guess. Most of the 20-something waitresses had on quite short shorts still, and revealing tops, but nothing overly obscene. I looked over at the Smiths and they seemed to be taking it all in stride, giggling at everything. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Mr. Smith seemed unphased as he talked to the gorgeous hostess. She seemed to beam at his good looks and confident smile. “Miriam’s section, please” he said. The hostess twirled her hair and looked up dreamily at him. “Right this way, sir.”
Mr. and Mrs. Smith sat on 1 side of the booth, as I sat in between Ashley and Liz. As the family got used to the the somewhat promiscuously dressed 20 year olds, Mrs. Smith finally pointed my mother out. “Oh, that’s her there! Right Davey!?"
We all looked over where she pointed. My mother stood holding a small stack of dirty plates. Her uniform was the same as the other girls, but different. In addition to being the only woman there over 30, her outfit was shorter somehow. Trashier. It only emphasized that she was aging out of her 40’s and no longer maintained her youth the same as the rest of the staff. The table of gruff men she was talking to seemed to laugh at her while also stealing little rubs and grabs of her upper thigh, hips and even swatted her protruding backside. She tried to keep the grabby hands at bay with a pleading smile plastered across her face.
She set the plates down in the kitchen in the back, then hurried back over and returned as the men were just leaving. They threw couple bucks down, but missed the table as the crumpled dollars fell to the floor. As she got down on her knees to retrieve the dollars off the sticky floor, I heard Liz snort/laugh again and muttered out “jesus…I guess it’s genetic, huh Davey?”. Mrs. Smith called over “Miriam! Hello dear! We’re ready for orders when you're done down there.”
My mother scurried over as she wiped her hands on her tiny apron. “Mrs. Smith! Such a pleasure to see you here! And you brought the whole family! It has been so long since the PTA meeting. Such a, well, such a pleasant surprise. You look amazing!”
“Why thank you Miriam. I’ll tell my botox lady you think so!” she responded with a laugh. "And look who we brought here…” she gestured over to me. I looked up briefly “Um, uh, h-hi mom”.
“David! I, um, I wasn’t expecting you.” It was as if she was suddenly aware of how exposed she was.
“Look at this, Hank!”, Mrs. Smith said grabbing her husband’s attention, “this is what I was talking about. How is a woman supposed to have any self respect traipsing around in this!” Mrs. Smith found her sense of justice again. “Look at her! At her age, showing this much! How embarrassing!”
My mother as if on cue, turned a deep shade of red. I thought about sticking up for her. But what could I ever say. Maybe if I waited patiently, Ashley would maybe speak up for me. I had picked up a habit of hiding behind Ashley and waiting for her opinion. She always seemed to know just what to say!
Mr. Smith leaned forward with a grin, but spoke with sympathy dripping from his voice. “Yes, it’s just terrible. The other girls seem to be more, well, dignified in their attire though…”
“Yes,” my mother meekly replied back, “well, the other girls fit into the size small and maybe a few medium. I have to wear the large size, and well, they're from before they updated the store policy and implemented less-revealing uniforms. I put in my request for a “large" in the new uniforms though! My manager says it’s on backorder!”
Mr. Smith smiled wide at her “Well that’s fantastic then. Honestly, those shorts still look a little tight, but I’m sure that’s not bad for business”.
"It’s just disgusting is what it is!” Mrs. Smith continued. Look here,” she reached up grabbing my mother’s uniform strap and tugging it making my mother’s chest rise and fall with a jiggle "No support at all. She looks like she belongs in some seedy brothel; not a restaurant. I get the joke is it’s supposed to be a little crude in humor, but just look at this!” She pulled the strap a few more times causing her chest to shake heavily as the table let out a brief laugh. I shifted my eyes to the ground. Mrs. Smith then blatantly grabbed the waistband of my mother's tight fitting bright spandex shorts. "Ugh, and these are so tight still. You really should request an 'Extra Large', dear. I don’t think these are meant for 45 year old women…”
I wanted so desperately for my mother to stand up for herself. But all that came out of her mouth was "Y-yes well, hopefully when the, uh, the new uniform comes in, I can-”
“Turn around Miriam” Mrs. Smith said stopping my mom in her tracks. “I want to see the back…”
There was a brief moment of hesitation in my mother. I thought this would be where she stood her ground. But then she momentarily locked eyes with Mrs. Smith, who just returned an expectant look.
“Y-yes Mrs. Smith” my mother half said in a question, half not wanting to disobey a customer. She slowly turned around, revealing her unnecessarily “on display” backside tucked into bright colored booty shorts.
“Ugh, these shorts! She looks like some truck station hooker, Hank! Can’t you speak to someone from your golf club about this!”
Just then a pretty, early 20’s, blonde marched over. I was relieved to see this angel come to put us out of our misery. Perhaps she might even talk to Mrs. Smith about touching staff like that!
“Miriam! I said I needed my last table bussed 5 min ago! Get your head out of your tits and stop bothering the customers. Just take their order and get out of the way!” she barely broke stride as she confidently passed. My mother quickly got very nervous and called back “Y-yes Miss Hawkins! R-Right away!”
The smiths all seemed to gleam at my mother as she now nervously fidgeted in place. “S-sorry about that. Miss Hawkins is my new manager. She um, she has a tendency to not allow me to keep my tips if I screw up too much on shift."
"Well I think it’s great you have such a strong leader here, Miriam” Mr. Smith responded. "You can learn a lot from her!”
“Oh I absolutely agree, dear!” Mrs. Smith joined in, “someone like you and our sweet davey here can really flourish under a strong leader. I’ve always said, ’no such thing as a stupid dog. They just need the right owner to train them’. Isn’t that right, Davey?”
I looked up from my shoes for the 1st time and stuttered out my agreeance. “Y-yes Ma’am, um, Mrs. Smith, Ma’am. A d-dog is nothing w-without a strong owner, M-Ma’am." I don’t know why, but I quickly looked back at Ashley to make sure I said the right thing. Her warm smile and approving head shake made my nerves ease slightly.
“Y-yes, well, can I get you anything?", my mother asked. “I really should go clean Miss Hawkins' table before she gets upset with me again."
“We won’t keep you Miriam. We actually stopped by to see if we can ask you if Davey here can join us for our beach trip.”
My mother was barely listening now. Apparently urgent to bus her manager’s old table before getting reprimanded again. While looking over her shoulder “W-what? You want David to…? Wh-where again? Oh, uh, Y-yes, that’s fine whatever you think is best, Mrs. Smith!”
“Oh perfect! We’ll make sure he stays plenty active! Lots to be done! Oh, and we’ll start with a round of sodas, Miriam. Oh, and the chips and guac!”
“Y-yes Mrs Smith. Right away!”
For whatever reason, I felt a pang of dejection and humiliation. My mother barely asked any follow-up questions. Instead she was nervous about being in trouble with “Miss Hawkins” again, who looked like she was barely out of high school herself, and already had my mother dressed like a joke and trembling at her commands. And the way Mr. and Mrs. Smith talked to my mother! Then I felt Ashley’s leg brush up against mine as she giggled along to whatever story Mr. Smith now told the table as the rest laughed along in amusement. In my humiliation, I suddenly felt grounded. I now get a romantic beach trip with Ashley!
The rest of the meal felt like an out of body experience. I was mostly ignored as the family enjoyed their meal. The Smith family ate their food, as I tried to laugh along as if I was in on their private jokes. I picked at my side salad, no dressing. I wanted a burger like Liz and her father had ordered, but Ashley doesn’t like when I eat any foods she thinks are too fatty or might make me too full. She says it makes me “less eager to please”.
Liz made several comments about how good her burger was. It made my stomach loudly grumble, which she smirked at. As we were walking out Mrs. Smith point out my mother by the side door. She was talking with “Miss Hawkins” again. She suggested I go say goodbye to my mother as the rest of the Smiths made their way outside. I didn’t want to interrupt my mother’s conversation and hoped to save us both some humiliation, but Ashley jumped at the chance, thinking it was a great idea. She grabbed my hand and confidently pulled me forward. I resisted ever so slightly at 1st before she gave a slight pull and I looked down as my eyes caught site of her firm buttucks rolling back and forth in her black yoga pants. My thoughts felt cloudy and suddenly my mind seemed to glaze over. It suddenly felt really, really good to follow her. As we walked up I heard the conversation between my mom and the probably 21 year old manager. Miss Hawkins stood with her arms crossed as stared down my mother, who stood before her with her eyes cast firmly on the ground as she nervously shifted her feet.
“Well, what did I tell you about cleaning my tables the SECOND they get up to leave?” Miss Hawkins asked aggressively.
“I-i’m sorry Miss Hawkins, I tried but I-“
“Do I look like I’m interested in your dumb excuses, Miriam. Let’s go. That’s another demerit. Hand it over…” Miss Hawkins said with her hand on her hip, and the other outstretched. She had a hard, expectant look on her face, daring my mother challenge her.
I watched my mother take the few dollars she clung to and slowly put them in the bratty blonde’s hand. I was glad my mom kept her eyes on the ground. It was probably best she didnt have to see the smirk that crept across her tormentor’s perfectly glossy lips.
“OH EM GEE, April!?” Ashley said as we walked up.
Miss Hawkins turned to us and after a breif second said “Ashley!? Holy shit. From high school volleyball? What are you a senior now? You look great hun!” It was odd seeing her bratty and entitled attitude immediately switch to bubbly smiles.
“Oh please, I look like a wreck compared to you. You work here?”
“Yea, I started during my freshman year of college to help pay the bills. I graduate next year though and then it’s bye bye Hoots! It’s not so bad here though. The tips are great.” “That’s awesome. And I see you took this one under your wing? Hi again, Miriam!”
My mother briefly took her eyes off the ground. “Oh, uh, h-hello Miss Smi-“
“You know this little charity case?” April said cutting my mother off.
Ashley giggled and replied she was actually my mother. That’s when April Hawkins looked in my direction for the 1st time. I could feel the heat from her eyes on me. I nervously looked down at the floor and shifted my feet. A trait I suppose I learned. Ashley and April were clearly in full control of this conversation.
“I see the resemblance. Well, everyone just loves our little charity case, don’t we, Miriam?
“Y-yes Miss Hawkins”. I hated seeing my mother refer to this 20 year old ‘Miss Hawkins’ with an honorific while she was just ‘Miriam'. Miss Hawkins was certainly pretty though, she exhumed confidence, and stood with perfect posture, forcing her chest out attractively in her snug white shirt. I liked the way her full lips glittered and shined. I cursed myself for feeling my underwear get tight when I looked at her.
“That’s right, she cleans out tables when the busboys take a break, she works any shifts the girls don’t want, and she’s the only girl that volunteers to split her tips with the other girls. So we get to split basically everything she makes. She can so generous, sometimes she just needs a little ‘push’” April winked at Ashley. "I guess it helps her feel like less of a burden around the young ‘pretty’ girls.”
“Oh well that sounds JUST like my Davey! So sweet and ready to just give, give, give!”
“I could totally tell he was the type. They are such givers these two! And you should feel lucky Davey, not everyone gets to find such a pretty ‘taker’, you know” Miss Hawkins said with a laugh.
“Oh you’re gonna make me blush, April!” Ashley laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Plus if she’s anything like my Davey”, she said gesturing toward my mother, "I’m sure she works like, so super hard to please you!”
“Oh for sure! Old Miriam here is really a cash cow. The older crowd of guys love still being able to get a quick grab or feel as she serves them, and they don’t have to worry about any reporting or repercussions with her. Not that they’d try that bullshit with me or one of the other girls!”
Ashley smiled on “Don’t I know it, girl. You wouldn’t take that shit from anyone!”
“Got that right! But I’m not gonna report it for little old Miriam here, so the creepers and old perverts usually through a few extra dollars her way. Which ends up rightttt insideee my pockets, ain’t that right Miriam?” My mother nodded along as she gave up any attempt at looking from the floor.
“Well, this has been, like, SO fun!” Ashley gushed. “Just wanted Davey to say hi to mommy”
“Yea, we should party sometime. Okay, fun’s over Miriam. Grab the trash from the back and throw it in the dumpster.” My mother spoke with her head slightly raised, wringing her hands nervously “Oh, um, please Miss Hawkins maybe I could say goodbye to my son in priva-“
“Trash. Now!” Miss Haskins returned to her normal tone when speaking with my mother.
"Y-yess miss h-h-hawkins!” Just like that she scurried away without saying goodbye. I didn’t blame her at all though, and didn’t find myself feeling angry. I think in that moment, she genuinely forgot I was there. She was just trying to be good for her superior, that’s all!
Ashley waved goodbye as she started to walk off. “See ya, April! Davey, come!” I looked up from the floor to look at April Hawkins one last time and saw her eyeing me up and down like a piece of meat. Like she knew something I didn’t. I quickly turned and scurried to keep up with Ashley who was several steps ahead. When I caught up, Ashley spoke as if to no one in particular. “Isn’t April cool? And she’s such a boss. Always has been! And did you hear the way she spoke to Miriam!? ‘Trash. NOW’ hahaha, such a queen! I like, totally gotta try that. ‘Davey, Trash. Now!’ ” I squirmed as she giggled at her own joke. She confidently strutted off, and I followed behind.

An ingrown hair is a strand of hair that grows back into your skin after shaving, tweezing or waxing. They may be painful or itchy, and they commonly appear around your face, legs, armpits and pubic area.
Ingrown hairs are sometimes called razor bumps, shave bumps or barber bumps.Ingrown hair is very common. Anyone who shaves, tweezes or waxes their hair can develop ingrown hairs. If you shave often, you’re more likely to have ingrown hairs.
You’re also more likely to have ingrown hair if you have skin of color or thick, coarse or curly hair.
Syphilis diagnosis is based on the person’s clinical and sexual history, physical examination, laboratory testing and sometimes radiology, as symptoms are not common or noticeable.
Syphilis is caused by the bacterium Treponema pallidum. Laboratory tests for syphilis include direct detection of T. pallidum through a microscope or indirect methods such as blood tests. Rapid tests are also available and can provide results in minutes, facilitating immediate treatment initiation.
Identifying asymptomatic infection through laboratory or rapid tests and providing adequate treatment of positive cases will prevent further transmission and complications, as well as adverse pregnancy outcomes, including congenital syphilis.

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

I am playing Breya right now, and I have experience with Kinnan and K'rrik, but with this being my first four color cEDH deck I am struggling a little my mana base.
Namely the Seachrome & Darkslick. I have contemplated Forbidden Orchard, but I am in a heavy Culling the Weak meta.
Any suggestions would be great!
--- Lands Base --- 1 Ancient Tomb 1 Arid Mesa 1 Blood Crypt 1 Bloodstained Mire 1 City of Brass 1 Command Tower 1 Darkslick Shores 1 Exotic Orchard 1 Flooded Strand 1 Gemstone Caverns 1 Godless Shrine 1 Hallowed Fountain 1 Mana Confluence 1 Marsh Flats 1 Misty Rainforest 1 Morphic Pool 1 Otawara, Soaring City 1 Polluted Delta 1 Sacred Foundry 1 Scalding Tarn 1 Sea of Clouds 1 Seachrome Coast 1 Spire of Industry 1 Steam Vents 1 Verdant Catacombs 1 Watery Grave 1 Windswept Heath 1 Wooded Foothills
Here is a link to my deck for the color breakdown.
https://manabox.app/decks/2aKLwJHRQJ6BvcFecpabAw

This is a weekly thread for those who haven't been diagnosed, but still have questions about the diagnostic process. Please read the posting guidelines and rules! Everyone is welcome to contribute, and this is a safe space.
QUESTIONS ARE LIMITED TO 400 WORDS
____________________________________________
Please read this before posting as it may answer some of your questions:
If you use the search bar at the top of Reddit and make sure it’s set to lupus, it will search just the subreddit for your keywords. That way you can get the full breadth of questions and answers. This isn’t to say that you can’t ask questions in the general forum.

ANA tests

Positive ANA does not equal lupus! While more of a rule out screening (negative ANA = very unlikely to have SLE). Upwards of 15-20% of healthy individuals in the population at large will have a positive ANA. Only about 10-15% of people who have a positive ANA will later be diagnosed with SLE.

Tests used in diagnosing lupus

• anti-dsDNA - anti-Double Strand DNA is sometimes automatically tested for, but may need to be ordered separately. This test, when highly positive (2-3 times max cut off at least) is almost exclusively seen in SLE. However, only about 30% of SLE patients have this antibody. It's great if it's there to confirm diagnosis, it does not rule out diagnosis if it is absent.
• ENA Panel - Extractable Nuclear Antigen panel, usually automatically done if ANA comes back positive
• anti-Sm - Anti-Smith. Typically included in the ENA panel. This is another antibody, that when highly positive, almost always means SLE, but only about 25% of SLE patients have this antibody.
• RNP - Anti-Ribonucleoprotein. Typically included in the ENA panel
• anti-chromatin - Anti-chromatin is a relative newcomer in diagnostic testing for SLE and probably will NOT be ordered automatically. Its exact utility in diagnosis is still being determined.
• Apl panel - Antiphospholipid Antibody Panel, which consists of 3 tests:
  • LA - lupus anticoagulant
  • aCL - anti-cardiolipin antibodies
  • Anti-β2GP - anti-beta 2-glycoprotien antibodies
• CBC - Complete Blood Count, some abnormalities in WBC, RBC and PLT counts can be significant.
• CMP - Comprehensive Metabolic Panel, here the doctors are generally looking for kidney dysfunction (GFR, BUN/CR).
• ESR - Erythrocyte Sedimentation Rate, this is a nonspecific inflammation marker.
• CRP- C-Reactive Protein, another nonspecific inflammation marker.
• C3 - Compliment C3
• C4 - Compliment C4
• CH50 - Compliments, Total, these are part of the compliment system, which is a tertiary part of the immune system.

Also, if you suspect you have a rash, getting a biopsy of it done at a dermatologist’s office can be helpful as the pathologist can identify histological evidence of lupus.

Diagnostic Process

ACR Diagnostic Criteria on lupus wiki
The rheumatologist/PCP will take a detailed history. I highly recommend writing down as many of your symptoms as possible, especially focusing on the symptoms you have that are in the American College of Rheumatology diagnostic criteria for lupus - see link above.
Include all your symptoms, but I would make those at the top of the list. Write down how long they’ve been going on, anything that makes them better or worse, and how much they impact your life. Do they prevent you from dressing yourself, eating/cooking, bathing yourself, doing hobbies, meeting your obligations?
ANA varies from person to person and doesn’t necessarily correlate with disease activity. Anti-dsDNA is more indicative of disease activity and can be elevated prior to and during a flare. Symptoms can also come and go, and over time you may develop additional symptoms. If you scroll through the last week of posts or so, there are a few posts that will have pretty detailed answers to your questions from multiple community members so you can get a better sense of just how full on fickle lupus can be.
Here are some good posts, one is other people experiences in general, the others are rashes (warning: some are particularly severe):
User community diagnosis experiences
This is a malar rash
Photosensitive Lupus Rash
SLE Malar rash
QUESTIONS ARE LIMITED TO 400 WORDS

• Shorter questions get more feedback
• Use ChatGPT to summarize your question if you don't know what to leave out

Age of Legends
Prologue(Death and birth of a dragon)

Rand was happy, there wasn’t much else he could say about how he felt right there at that specific moment. Lying there in bed wearing nothing but his small cloths and a silk shirt half buttoned. Beside him sleeping so peacefully was one of his beautiful wives, Elmindreada, though she hated that name and preferred Min. Thinking back on many long years of peace and growth, yes he was fated to break the world, and he had. Though the prophecies never mentioned the creation and growth he would also leave behind. The creation of the black tower and the worldwide acceptance of male Aes Sedai, his crown and epitome of success the cleansing of saiadin. That and the discovery of ancient knowledge to confirm anyone should be able to learn to touch at least a small part of the true source, at least most people could. Those two things alone would have vast and far-reaching consequences for the good. The covers beside him shifted as his wife turned over in her sleep showing him her short curly hair. Thoughts drifting again to convincing the Aeil and Tu’athan(the tinkers he thought fondly still) to make peace, them taking it a step further and settling in the two rivers. The tinkers, the wondering people and followers of the way of the leaf, coming to terms with the Aiel spear wielders and settling in one place, that one place being his boyhood homeland. Perrin was there, as well as all the Emond fielders, what’s more they set him up like some king and started calling the place Manetheren.
Mat even came back and settled down to retire with the remainder of his family after his wife the empress died. Rand frowned because that wasn’t a happy memory, her battle with some kind of internal growth that even the best healers couldn’t fix, it was slow and painful. She was tough and knew enough to put things in order so there wouldn’t be any war for succession, but after her death and with no children not adopted, Mat just had no pull to stay. He came back and Perrin gave him an estate where he spent the rest of his days carousing in taverns even if no one would play dice with him again. The rest of his days were not much however, less than two years after his wife Mattrim died of a heart attack. The same strange fox head medallion he wore around his neck that had saved him so many times from enemy power wielders, due to its powers of absorbing any of the one power used against the wearer, was strangely the main cause of his death as there had been an Aes Sedai capable of healing close by. Rand wondered what ever became of that medallion. Trying to shift his thoughts back to happier things he thought of Elayne another of his wives and queen of the region this new “kingdom” was growing. Or at least she was. Having not one but two kingdoms to run was taxing her, especially when one played that awful game of houses so much, as if it were breathing. She actually willingly gave that area to Perrin, that and more besides. “Having friends at your back, especially friends who know they owe you can only help.”, he remembered her saying when he asked her.
He laughed remembering how her cute golden-haired little face grew so stern while she rounded on him for not caring about his friends and shouldn’t they also get something for all the help they provided at the last battle. Of course, it also had nothing to do with being such close friends with Perrin’s wife Fail. Manetheren though, when asked Perrin just shrugged his huge shoulders saying one name is as good as any, and it was the one that everyone agreed on.
Min groaned softly beside him still wrapped in the silken bedding spread. His laugh seemed to have disturbed her, he quickly stifled it and glared at the lavish bedroom they slept in as if that were the fault for his mirth. Lying on top of the silken covers because he never quite got used to sleeping on feather mattresses. It really was a lavish bedroom, filled with rugs and wall coverings, paintings, not one but two large dressers with mirrors, a matching and equally large wardrobe, currently opened showing two other mirrors on the inside of the doors, smaller than the dresser mirrors, and a neat array of blouses and trousers with floral embroidery(Min’s things). Otherwise, there was also a washstand with another small mirror, a desk and one chair slightly askew and away from the desk. On the desk are several stacks of books, and an open notebook with a nearby quill and ink pot. There was a lone unlit lamp also on the desk gilded in gold, as well as several gold gilded wall lamps also unlit around the room.
Sighing softly as Min settled back to comfortable sleep, he stared back up at the bland whitewashed ceiling above him and thought about the schools he had patroned. So many new ideas and inventions were springing up and with traveling prevalent they all spread to the world almost as fast as the ideas can be thought up. This would hopefully lead to a golden age for the world, and his schools were even branching off on their own into new learning institutes. These alone seemed to keep the peace between all the nations. Rand couldn’t tell if he was trying to be modest or humble. Yes he patroned and started the first few schools, but it was not all him coming up with any of the ideas and inventions, many of which had become marvels in and of themselves. Transportation, communication, education These would be left behind and he would be known for that as well as the other.
Breaking the world to make it whole, and his victory with that world’s armies at the last battle. He fought the dark one while the armies of all the nations fought the shadowspawn and darkfriends and dreadlords. Despite everything against him, including it seemed sometimes even the creator, he not only won the battle, but he survived it, he survived it and had a nice long life. The world was at peace, headed to a golden age which he would get credit for, and so Rand was happy. His eyes closed and his thoughts grew that sort of muffled feeling they get just as they start turning into dreams.
PAIN! Rand knew pain, he was no stranger to hurts, especially from a half healed old wound in his side, but that was not the same thing right now. For some reason panic started rising up in him, this was something new, this was something worse. A sharp pain again, in his chest, his body wildly spasmed up kicking his sleeping wife awake.
“Ow you bloody tall buffoon, if you think you can kick me out of bed you have another thing …” Min trailed off as another spasm of pain racked through Rand. Her face contorting with fear as she watched him clutching his chest nearly double over with the pain spasm. He tried to tell her he would be alright, but all that came out was a groaning grunt. He tried lifting his hand to show her it would be alright, but he couldn’t get it to move. Suddenly a hand hit him in his face, it was his hand. He couldn’t feel his hand or his arm. Fear started creeping in as another spasm of pain caused him to let out another groan and clutch at his chest with this hand he couldn’t feel.
“Creator shine his light on me, of course you would choose to die when you’re with me.” Min started shouting hysterically. “For the love of light you bloody wool head, you hang on until I can get Aviendha to come heal you, she’s not far, just hold on damn you.”
Rand vaguely had an impression of Min running towards and out the door. Another spasm of pain, except somehow this was less. He knew it should hurt just as much, but it didn’t. He must have found the void so it wouldn’t hurt as much, that was it. Rand thought about his third and final wife Aviendha, how she would likely come in to find him as healthy as a bull and upset his stomachache disturbed her wise one’s practice. Stomachache? Wasn’t it his chest that was hurting him? Another very small spasm, yes its his chest, but he was also feeling decidedly nauseous too, and that was the greatest issue right? Sleep was all he needed, he would sleep, and everything would be fine in the morning, tomorrow he had to get up early to sheer the sheep.
The void completely surrounds and envelops Rand. As he fades away he hears a sinister voice in his head, “YOU WON THIS ROUND DRAGON REBORN BUT WE WILL COME FACE TO FACE AGAIN” The dark one, what, again? No, the dark one is dead, am I dead, wake up you light blinded fool. There was nothing but the void, not even the light of saiadin could be seen. Rand listened as hard as he could, he thought he heard something, something almost familiar. There it was again, soft but rhythmic, sounding not exactly far, but muffled as if listening through water. Thump Thump and it hit him, that’s the sound of a heartbeat, but who’s heartbeat his? Sleep, that’s what he needed, a really good nights sleep and he would feel better in the morning. Rand drifted off into a dreamless sleep listening to the heartbeat, Thump Thump.
Thus did the dragon reborn die after seeing the end of one age turned into the beginning of another. The people of the land wept at his passing, they swore they would remember him forever and always. Time however is not a kind mistress, when an age is gone it starts to fade from existence, times deeds even people change in the telling’s of the years and centuries. Eventually when the wheel goes round and gives birth to the age again all details have been forgotten, muffled, or contorted.

Mariann Jo’sheen Sedai was old. She had a proper last name once if she could just remember. It had been so long ago since she had last thought of it, a life in the white tower could do that, and Sedai was as good a last name as could be for formality. Just saying Mariann was old was an understatement though, being a woman with a stronger channeling ability, and having sworn on all 8 Life Oath Rods, a prerequisite to becoming Amyrlin of the tower, that she even has any grey hair showing means she must be well past 800 years old, and to show the amount of age she did it must be closer to past 900 years. She was still sharp in mind mostly, at least anything from the last 100 years or so she could recall as sharp as if it happened yesterday. Had it really been longer than a hundred years since she last though of her family name, having long lasted past the last of her lineage, her family long gone or married into others.
She thought even harder surly she had been at her last relative’s funeral, when was it, it was a great aunt she remembered, and the surname was …, she thought really hard. She was in the Amyrlin’s bedchamber reserved for the current leader of the white tower. That said like most of the past Amyrlins before her she kept the bedroom nice and simple. The single window held a cooling fan with right below it a heater coil. The other wall held a closed door which led into her bathroom, the next wall holding another door leading out of the bedchamber into the office of her role. The last wall held the only other furniture besides the plain brown four poster bed she was laying on. A white nightstand with built in mirror and matching white clothed chair. The bathroom was large and would hold her wardrobe of clothes along with the indoor plumbing necessities.
Mariann thought back to each of the eight oaths she took on the life rods, trying to remember which one she had last taken when she attended her aunt’s funeral. Small cylindrical devices no longer than her arm, when you take an oath on one your life actually increases by a standard lifetime or roughly 100 years depending on the person, those stronger in the one power given slightly more. Really giving any oath at all would do for the increasing your life, the only requirement being you channel Saiadar while making your oath and someone else that can also channel does so to activate it. However each specific Ajah required you to take a specific oath, and the eighth oath rod was solely for those like her who have taken the Amyrlin seat after having have pledged on the other seven, again a specific oath.
“I will say no word that is untrue”. Eight oath rods, and eight times this is spoken to ensure you do not offer a false oath, as if anyone would think of lying so many truth seekers everywhere.
“I will faithfully serve as Amyrlin to all of my children for the rest of my days”. The Amyrlin seat was a lifelong position and would not open again until her death. Serve all her children, it was said that the ancient honorific Amyrlin meant something like mother to all, it means that she was a servant to everyone in the world, matter it not she was the leader of the white tower. That first part about serving faithfully as Amyrlin could leave some wiggle room depending on how one viewed the title of Amyrlin, the last however left no wiggle room for anything.
“I will treat everyone with fairness and justice as is prescribed by the dai’shan aiel of the grey tower and the Aes Sedai code of ethics”. Those were binding stronger than time itself. The grey tower first because only the dai’shan aiel more than anyone can decide what is fair and right, they were and are the original truth seekers among so much more. You would also have as much power to reach the moon as you would to get the Aes Sedai code of ethics changed. First it would take a proposal from either of the leaders from the white or black tower. Either the Amyrlin of the white tower or the Pope of the black tower has to make a suggested change, which then needs to go through each Ajah/Faction and receive 90% approval, then it gets sent to the other tower to make its way up through the chains until it finally ends with the other towers leader. If it passes all of that it gets sent to the grey tower for approval again 90% before finally appearing before the first servant leader of the grey tower for final approval, and at any stage it can be stopped if it doesn’t pass.
That wasn’t it though, no she was not Amyrlin at her aunt’s funeral. Before then was the Blue ajah, which was closer. But still too recent, what level was she? The sleeping shift she wore was one of the new fads called a one piece. It was literally one garment that covered both legs and torso. It had several convenient buttons for keeping it on or taking it off. It was grey cotton all one solid color, and it was bunching up at the knees. Mariann distractedly Jerked it back into position. Her thoughts drifted too far back to when she had her very first foretelling which was that she would one day become Amyrlin seat. She was a young girl of only 16 years, and she knew without a doubt. It came in bursts though and it was not something she could control.
This vision came on stronger than any she had ever encountered before. So strong it jerked her body stiff as a board and slammed her down thankfully into the bed she was already laying on. An Evil shadow of a man, a giant taller than mountains, and blacker than the darkest shadows on a moonless night, peering down at the world smiling, that smile turning your blood to jelly and freezing you in place with its ill intent. A great serpentine beast came flying from the other side of the world, Long and scales glimmering like diamonds with talons made of pure gold but sharper than the sharpest knife, fire trailing from its partially open moth off its gleaming sharp teeth. It was equally large as the malevolent shadow man and flew on giant tornado causing wings straight at the other. They fought a great battle against each other, but in doing so caused so many deaths as swaths of their destruction ravaged the world. A flash of light and Mariann was staring at the grey tower as if just a few hundred yards away. She started walking towards it only to watch in horror and bewilderment as the tower before her cracked and collapsed as if a mirror or glass shattered. Another flash of light and she saw a baby boy, but he aged so fast right before her eyes until he died as an old man. She couldn’t remember much, but she knew deep down that he was in some way related to the other visions and this man, for it was definitely a man, was likely the cause of them.
Opening her eyes to stare at the brown four poster cloth above her and remembering every detail about her vision she distractedly spoke to herself . “Goshin is my sur name and I last heard it at Aunt Maragel Goshin’s funeral while I was at the green level”. She shook her head, that wasn’t important anymore if it ever really was. She quickly sat up in her woolen one piece swinging her feet over the side of the bed and hurried to her nightstand. Sitting in the chair she reached in one drawer to get paper and another to get an ink pointer. Channeling a single small strand of fire into a swinging glass bulb above her bed brought light into the room. She hastily started scribbling down every detail from her vision, she was grateful she always kept ink and paper nearby to do so.

Mr. Telamon was a nervous wreck while sitting in the hospital waiting room. He somehow knew, sensed something was wrong with his wife’s delivery. Dai’shan aiel were everywhere; as were nurses, patients or close kin waiting, Every once in a while a doctor’s assistant would come out and call a name ushering someone to see a doctor. Really bad cases would be taken in through a separate entrance known only to the healers. It didn’t matter, and he got confirmation as those doors opened up and not the assistant, but the doctor who had taken his wife looked around the room first at the dai’shan, then at him. A group of three of the white clad figures started moving towards him even before the doctor did. They felt his grief or rather the grief he was going to feel, even before he himself felt it. That and they knew it would take three of them to calm him down. Tears were streaming from his eyes before the doctor even started speaking.
“There was a complication during the pregnancy, your son is ok, your wife however did not make it, I’m so sorry. She did manage to tell us a name before she passed. Lews, Lews Therin after her father. Is that what you would like on the birth certificate?”
Baby Lews’s father numbly nodded, and the doctor walked away as uncontrollable sobs started emanating from the man. The three dai’shan aiel circled around him arm in arm and started singing a song of comfort and peace and mourning.
***
Rand Al’thor was asleep soundly when something woke him up, but he couldn’t tell what or where, or even anything for that matter. It was like the void, nothingness, but a sound, not a feeling, a heartbeat. The heartbeat was much faster than it was and suddenly something pushed him hard in the head. Go away he thought I’m trying to sleep. However the push came back stronger than before, this time managing to flip him upside down, upside down?, he could tell direction in this floating nothingness. Really awake now Rand tried to remember, remember?, remember what? Again the push and he was being squeezed to death and suddenly he remembered something about the dark one. A voice, a word, a sentence, the dark one wanted him dead. Was this the dark one trying to kill him, again push, again very tight squeeze, this time a light as if from a tunnel. It wasn’t the only light though, Rand went to the real void, and he saw it, Saiadin. He reached out with all his might to grab it and it came like a flood. He couldn’t control it, he had no strength, and his memory was foggy, he just expelled it to get out the other light and away from the pushing and death squeeze.
As Saiadin left him so did more and more memories, he tried to shout that he killed the dark one, sealed the bore so it could never be open. All that came out of his mouth was a scream. No blood and fire no I did this already, I won, I’m done. And with that last thought Rand Al’thor fell deep deep asleep into the furthest recesses of the brain. Lews took a deep breath and let out another scream wanting his mother or anyone to come pick him up and sooth his little soul.

The dragon is born!

Chapter 1
16 years later
The wheel of time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the fifth age by some and the first by others. An age yet to come, an age long past, a dark icy wind arose from about as far north as you can get. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the wheel of time. But it was a beginning.
A steam vent in an icy mountain let out a puff of sulfur like particles riding the wind. High and fast the dark tainted wind rode across the Nym fields, high enough to escape the notice of the Nym, ever vigilant in their desire to protect the world. Over the borderlands of mankind, given graciously by the Nym when mankind needs more space to grow. Still high in the sky the dark wind blew through wild wilderness where only the Nym, the Ogier, the dai’shan aiel, and the Aes Sedai were allowed to travel if at some risk. The wind started descending as it traveled into the warmer southern air. Up ahead in the distance was a magnificently large tower made of stone black like obsidian, but much stronger. Along the northern wall of this Black tower were several windows, most open hoping to catch some of the cool breeze which it did nicely.
It was into one of these windows the dark wind blew, a classroom, though filled only with boys. The tainted breeze flew around several students, all dressed in black school uniforms and sitting at wooden desks on little rickety stool like chairs with just the barest of backrest. The flow of air flew so close to the face of one student he gave a start, finally going up the next nearby student’s nose just as he took in a deep breath.
Lews gave such a start at the intrusion, and he stood up sneezing loudly, the rancid smell still strong in his nose. Taller than most of his peers he certainly stood over everyone’s head while they were all sitting down.
“What are you doing, you look like a dork, hurry and sit down before anyone notices.” His best friend [Ishamael]() tried to warn him. However, it was already too late for that, most of the class was now looking at him which made him self conscious even if the women all said he looked like a dream. Worse, the teacher at the front of the class in a very similar black colored uniform was looking at him expectedly.
“Yes Lews, do you think you know the answer?” To Lews’s horror he realized he had been spending most of the class in a daydream about being the most powerful weaver ever. It was important that distinction, woman channel men weave. Saiadar and Saiadin, two halves of the same whole, both apart of the one power the true source. Everyone could learn to use it, or at least almost everyone. The dai’shan don’t channel or weave for all the power of their songs, not one of them it’s a law to join among other things. Other people might be so weak in the power it should be they don’t have it at all, there are objects which can amplify or temporarily give someone use of the one power, those with so little power that resort to using these transcognative devices were often socially outcast. Transmogs they were called when someone was being nice.
That didn’t help him now, he was in history class, and definitely not studying Transmogs. Lews desperately wracked his brain trying to remember what they were discussing. The teacher’s slight smile was starting to droop to a slight frown. Nym’s that was what they were discussing, what about Nym’s? Desperately looking around for some hope, he finally remembered. It was a question about the first Nym, what was his name?
“Goak him jim knee?” Lews answered with a rightfully apologetic look on his face. Sighing the teacher said “close, Oakhimgimee. At least he was close!” The teacher got progressively louder while giving the rest of the class an evil eye. The laughter that had started quickly quieted. Just at that particular moment a loud bell decided to ring calling an end to that class period.
As the other students started standing up, talking, and starting to head for the door, the teacher weaved a small weave that produced a louder voice reminding the class they had the test coming up at the end of the week.
Lews slowly grabbed his bag and followed the steady stream of students leaving the class.

Age of Legends
Prologue(Death and birth of a dragon)

Rand was happy, there wasn’t much else he could say about how he felt right there at that specific moment. Lying there in bed wearing nothing but his small cloths and a silk shirt half buttoned. Beside him sleeping so peacefully was one of his beautiful wives, Elmindreada, though she hated that name and preferred Min. Thinking back on many long years of peace and growth, yes he was fated to break the world, and he had. Though the prophecies never mentioned the creation and growth he would also leave behind. The creation of the black tower and the worldwide acceptance of male Aes Sedai, his crown and epitome of success the cleansing of saiadin. That and the discovery of ancient knowledge to confirm anyone should be able to learn to touch at least a small part of the true source, at least most people could. Those two things alone would have vast and far-reaching consequences for the good. The covers beside him shifted as his wife turned over in her sleep showing him her short curly hair. Thoughts drifting again to convincing the Aeil and Tu’athan(the tinkers he thought fondly still) to make peace, them taking it a step further and settling in the two rivers. The tinkers, the wondering people and followers of the way of the leaf, coming to terms with the Aiel spear wielders and settling in one place, that one place being his boyhood homeland. Perrin was there, as well as all the Emond fielders, what’s more they set him up like some king and started calling the place Manetheren.
Mat even came back and settled down to retire with the remainder of his family after his wife the empress died. Rand frowned because that wasn’t a happy memory, her battle with some kind of internal growth that even the best healers couldn’t fix, it was slow and painful. She was tough and knew enough to put things in order so there wouldn’t be any war for succession, but after her death and with no children not adopted, Mat just had no pull to stay. He came back and Perrin gave him an estate where he spent the rest of his days carousing in taverns even if no one would play dice with him again. The rest of his days were not much however, less than two years after his wife Mattrim died of a heart attack. The same strange fox head medallion he wore around his neck that had saved him so many times from enemy power wielders, due to its powers of absorbing any of the one power used against the wearer, was strangely the main cause of his death as there had been an Aes Sedai capable of healing close by. Rand wondered what ever became of that medallion. Trying to shift his thoughts back to happier things he thought of Elayne another of his wives and queen of the region this new “kingdom” was growing. Or at least she was. Having not one but two kingdoms to run was taxing her, especially when one played that awful game of houses so much, as if it were breathing. She actually willingly gave that area to Perrin, that and more besides. “Having friends at your back, especially friends who know they owe you can only help.”, he remembered her saying when he asked her.
He laughed remembering how her cute golden-haired little face grew so stern while she rounded on him for not caring about his friends and shouldn’t they also get something for all the help they provided at the last battle. Of course, it also had nothing to do with being such close friends with Perrin’s wife Fail. Manetheren though, when asked Perrin just shrugged his huge shoulders saying one name is as good as any, and it was the one that everyone agreed on.
Min groaned softly beside him still wrapped in the silken bedding spread. His laugh seemed to have disturbed her, he quickly stifled it and glared at the lavish bedroom they slept in as if that were the fault for his mirth. Lying on top of the silken covers because he never quite got used to sleeping on feather mattresses. It really was a lavish bedroom, filled with rugs and wall coverings, paintings, not one but two large dressers with mirrors, a matching and equally large wardrobe, currently opened showing two other mirrors on the inside of the doors, smaller than the dresser mirrors, and a neat array of blouses and trousers with floral embroidery(Min’s things). Otherwise, there was also a washstand with another small mirror, a desk and one chair slightly askew and away from the desk. On the desk are several stacks of books, and an open notebook with a nearby quill and ink pot. There was a lone unlit lamp also on the desk gilded in gold, as well as several gold gilded wall lamps also unlit around the room.
Sighing softly as Min settled back to comfortable sleep, he stared back up at the bland whitewashed ceiling above him and thought about the schools he had patroned. So many new ideas and inventions were springing up and with traveling prevalent they all spread to the world almost as fast as the ideas can be thought up. This would hopefully lead to a golden age for the world, and his schools were even branching off on their own into new learning institutes. These alone seemed to keep the peace between all the nations. Rand couldn’t tell if he was trying to be modest or humble. Yes he patroned and started the first few schools, but it was not all him coming up with any of the ideas and inventions, many of which had become marvels in and of themselves. Transportation, communication, education These would be left behind and he would be known for that as well as the other.
Breaking the world to make it whole, and his victory with that world’s armies at the last battle. He fought the dark one while the armies of all the nations fought the shadowspawn and darkfriends and dreadlords. Despite everything against him, including it seemed sometimes even the creator, he not only won the battle, but he survived it, he survived it and had a nice long life. The world was at peace, headed to a golden age which he would get credit for, and so Rand was happy. His eyes closed and his thoughts grew that sort of muffled feeling they get just as they start turning into dreams.
PAIN! Rand knew pain, he was no stranger to hurts, especially from a half healed old wound in his side, but that was not the same thing right now. For some reason panic started rising up in him, this was something new, this was something worse. A sharp pain again, in his chest, his body wildly spasmed up kicking his sleeping wife awake.
“Ow you bloody tall buffoon, if you think you can kick me out of bed you have another thing …” Min trailed off as another spasm of pain racked through Rand. Her face contorting with fear as she watched him clutching his chest nearly double over with the pain spasm. He tried to tell her he would be alright, but all that came out was a groaning grunt. He tried lifting his hand to show her it would be alright, but he couldn’t get it to move. Suddenly a hand hit him in his face, it was his hand. He couldn’t feel his hand or his arm. Fear started creeping in as another spasm of pain caused him to let out another groan and clutch at his chest with this hand he couldn’t feel.
“Creator shine his light on me, of course you would choose to die when you’re with me.” Min started shouting hysterically. “For the love of light you bloody wool head, you hang on until I can get Aviendha to come heal you, she’s not far, just hold on damn you.”
Rand vaguely had an impression of Min running towards and out the door. Another spasm of pain, except somehow this was less. He knew it should hurt just as much, but it didn’t. He must have found the void so it wouldn’t hurt as much, that was it. Rand thought about his third and final wife Aviendha, how she would likely come in to find him as healthy as a bull and upset his stomachache disturbed her wise one’s practice. Stomachache? Wasn’t it his chest that was hurting him? Another very small spasm, yes its his chest, but he was also feeling decidedly nauseous too, and that was the greatest issue right? Sleep was all he needed, he would sleep, and everything would be fine in the morning, tomorrow he had to get up early to sheer the sheep.
The void completely surrounds and envelops Rand. As he fades away he hears a sinister voice in his head, “YOU WON THIS ROUND DRAGON REBORN BUT WE WILL COME FACE TO FACE AGAIN” The dark one, what, again? No, the dark one is dead, am I dead, wake up you light blinded fool. There was nothing but the void, not even the light of saiadin could be seen. Rand listened as hard as he could, he thought he heard something, something almost familiar. There it was again, soft but rhythmic, sounding not exactly far, but muffled as if listening through water. Thump Thump and it hit him, that’s the sound of a heartbeat, but who’s heartbeat his? Sleep, that’s what he needed, a really good nights sleep and he would feel better in the morning. Rand drifted off into a dreamless sleep listening to the heartbeat, Thump Thump.
Thus did the dragon reborn die after seeing the end of one age turned into the beginning of another. The people of the land wept at his passing, they swore they would remember him forever and always. Time however is not a kind mistress, when an age is gone it starts to fade from existence, times deeds even people change in the telling’s of the years and centuries. Eventually when the wheel goes round and gives birth to the age again all details have been forgotten, muffled, or contorted.

Mariann Jo’sheen Sedai was old. She had a proper last name once if she could just remember. It had been so long ago since she had last thought of it, a life in the white tower could do that, and Sedai was as good a last name as could be for formality. Just saying Mariann was old was an understatement though, being a woman with a stronger channeling ability, and having sworn on all 8 Life Oath Rods, a prerequisite to becoming Amyrlin of the tower, that she even has any grey hair showing means she must be well past 800 years old, and to show the amount of age she did it must be closer to past 900 years. She was still sharp in mind mostly, at least anything from the last 100 years or so she could recall as sharp as if it happened yesterday. Had it really been longer than a hundred years since she last though of her family name, having long lasted past the last of her lineage, her family long gone or married into others.
She thought even harder surly she had been at her last relative’s funeral, when was it, it was a great aunt she remembered, and the surname was …, she thought really hard. She was in the Amyrlin’s bedchamber reserved for the current leader of the white tower. That said like most of the past Amyrlins before her she kept the bedroom nice and simple. The single window held a cooling fan with right below it a heater coil. The other wall held a closed door which led into her bathroom, the next wall holding another door leading out of the bedchamber into the office of her role. The last wall held the only other furniture besides the plain brown four poster bed she was laying on. A white nightstand with built in mirror and matching white clothed chair. The bathroom was large and would hold her wardrobe of clothes along with the indoor plumbing necessities.
Mariann thought back to each of the eight oaths she took on the life rods, trying to remember which one she had last taken when she attended her aunt’s funeral. Small cylindrical devices no longer than her arm, when you take an oath on one your life actually increases by a standard lifetime or roughly 100 years depending on the person, those stronger in the one power given slightly more. Really giving any oath at all would do for the increasing your life, the only requirement being you channel Saiadar while making your oath and someone else that can also channel does so to activate it. However each specific Ajah required you to take a specific oath, and the eighth oath rod was solely for those like her who have taken the Amyrlin seat after having have pledged on the other seven, again a specific oath.
“I will say no word that is untrue”. Eight oath rods, and eight times this is spoken to ensure you do not offer a false oath, as if anyone would think of lying so many truth seekers everywhere.
“I will faithfully serve as Amyrlin to all of my children for the rest of my days”. The Amyrlin seat was a lifelong position and would not open again until her death. Serve all her children, it was said that the ancient honorific Amyrlin meant something like mother to all, it means that she was a servant to everyone in the world, matter it not she was the leader of the white tower. That first part about serving faithfully as Amyrlin could leave some wiggle room depending on how one viewed the title of Amyrlin, the last however left no wiggle room for anything.
“I will treat everyone with fairness and justice as is prescribed by the dai’shan aiel of the grey tower and the Aes Sedai code of ethics”. Those were binding stronger than time itself. The grey tower first because only the dai’shan aiel more than anyone can decide what is fair and right, they were and are the original truth seekers among so much more. You would also have as much power to reach the moon as you would to get the Aes Sedai code of ethics changed. First it would take a proposal from either of the leaders from the white or black tower. Either the Amyrlin of the white tower or the Pope of the black tower has to make a suggested change, which then needs to go through each Ajah/Faction and receive 90% approval, then it gets sent to the other tower to make its way up through the chains until it finally ends with the other towers leader. If it passes all of that it gets sent to the grey tower for approval again 90% before finally appearing before the first servant leader of the grey tower for final approval, and at any stage it can be stopped if it doesn’t pass.
That wasn’t it though, no she was not Amyrlin at her aunt’s funeral. Before then was the Blue ajah, which was closer. But still too recent, what level was she? The sleeping shift she wore was one of the new fads called a one piece. It was literally one garment that covered both legs and torso. It had several convenient buttons for keeping it on or taking it off. It was grey cotton all one solid color, and it was bunching up at the knees. Mariann distractedly Jerked it back into position. Her thoughts drifted too far back to when she had her very first foretelling which was that she would one day become Amyrlin seat. She was a young girl of only 16 years, and she knew without a doubt. It came in bursts though and it was not something she could control.
This vision came on stronger than any she had ever encountered before. So strong it jerked her body stiff as a board and slammed her down thankfully into the bed she was already laying on. An Evil shadow of a man, a giant taller than mountains, and blacker than the darkest shadows on a moonless night, peering down at the world smiling, that smile turning your blood to jelly and freezing you in place with its ill intent. A great serpentine beast came flying from the other side of the world, Long and scales glimmering like diamonds with talons made of pure gold but sharper than the sharpest knife, fire trailing from its partially open moth off its gleaming sharp teeth. It was equally large as the malevolent shadow man and flew on giant tornado causing wings straight at the other. They fought a great battle against each other, but in doing so caused so many deaths as swaths of their destruction ravaged the world. A flash of light and Mariann was staring at the grey tower as if just a few hundred yards away. She started walking towards it only to watch in horror and bewilderment as the tower before her cracked and collapsed as if a mirror or glass shattered. Another flash of light and she saw a baby boy, but he aged so fast right before her eyes until he died as an old man. She couldn’t remember much, but she knew deep down that he was in some way related to the other visions and this man, for it was definitely a man, was likely the cause of them.
Opening her eyes to stare at the brown four poster cloth above her and remembering every detail about her vision she distractedly spoke to herself . “Goshin is my sur name and I last heard it at Aunt Maragel Goshin’s funeral while I was at the green level”. She shook her head, that wasn’t important anymore if it ever really was. She quickly sat up in her woolen one piece swinging her feet over the side of the bed and hurried to her nightstand. Sitting in the chair she reached in one drawer to get paper and another to get an ink pointer. Channeling a single small strand of fire into a swinging glass bulb above her bed brought light into the room. She hastily started scribbling down every detail from her vision, she was grateful she always kept ink and paper nearby to do so.

Mr. Telamon was a nervous wreck while sitting in the hospital waiting room. He somehow knew, sensed something was wrong with his wife’s delivery. Dai’shan aiel were everywhere; as were nurses, patients or close kin waiting, Every once in a while a doctor’s assistant would come out and call a name ushering someone to see a doctor. Really bad cases would be taken in through a separate entrance known only to the healers. It didn’t matter, and he got confirmation as those doors opened up and not the assistant, but the doctor who had taken his wife looked around the room first at the dai’shan, then at him. A group of three of the white clad figures started moving towards him even before the doctor did. They felt his grief or rather the grief he was going to feel, even before he himself felt it. That and they knew it would take three of them to calm him down. Tears were streaming from his eyes before the doctor even started speaking.
“There was a complication during the pregnancy, your son is ok, your wife however did not make it, I’m so sorry. She did manage to tell us a name before she passed. Lews, Lews Therin after her father. Is that what you would like on the birth certificate?”
Baby Lews’s father numbly nodded, and the doctor walked away as uncontrollable sobs started emanating from the man. The three dai’shan aiel circled around him arm in arm and started singing a song of comfort and peace and mourning.
***
Rand Al’thor was asleep soundly when something woke him up, but he couldn’t tell what or where, or even anything for that matter. It was like the void, nothingness, but a sound, not a feeling, a heartbeat. The heartbeat was much faster than it was and suddenly something pushed him hard in the head. Go away he thought I’m trying to sleep. However the push came back stronger than before, this time managing to flip him upside down, upside down?, he could tell direction in this floating nothingness. Really awake now Rand tried to remember, remember?, remember what? Again the push and he was being squeezed to death and suddenly he remembered something about the dark one. A voice, a word, a sentence, the dark one wanted him dead. Was this the dark one trying to kill him, again push, again very tight squeeze, this time a light as if from a tunnel. It wasn’t the only light though, Rand went to the real void, and he saw it, Saiadin. He reached out with all his might to grab it and it came like a flood. He couldn’t control it, he had no strength, and his memory was foggy, he just expelled it to get out the other light and away from the pushing and death squeeze.
As Saiadin left him so did more and more memories, he tried to shout that he killed the dark one, sealed the bore so it could never be open. All that came out of his mouth was a scream. No blood and fire no I did this already, I won, I’m done. And with that last thought Rand Al’thor fell deep deep asleep into the furthest recesses of the brain. Lews took a deep breath and let out another scream wanting his mother or anyone to come pick him up and sooth his little soul.

The dragon is born!

Chapter 1
16 years later
The wheel of time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the fifth age by some and the first by others. An age yet to come, an age long past, a dark icy wind arose from about as far north as you can get. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the wheel of time. But it was a beginning.
A steam vent in an icy mountain let out a puff of sulfur like particles riding the wind. High and fast the dark tainted wind rode across the Nym fields, high enough to escape the notice of the Nym, ever vigilant in their desire to protect the world. Over the borderlands of mankind, given graciously by the Nym when mankind needs more space to grow. Still high in the sky the dark wind blew through wild wilderness where only the Nym, the Ogier, the dai’shan aiel, and the Aes Sedai were allowed to travel if at some risk. The wind started descending as it traveled into the warmer southern air. Up ahead in the distance was a magnificently large tower made of stone black like obsidian, but much stronger. Along the northern wall of this Black tower were several windows, most open hoping to catch some of the cool breeze which it did nicely.
It was into one of these windows the dark wind blew, a classroom, though filled only with boys. The tainted breeze flew around several students, all dressed in black school uniforms and sitting at wooden desks on little rickety stool like chairs with just the barest of backrest. The flow of air flew so close to the face of one student he gave a start, finally going up the next nearby student’s nose just as he took in a deep breath.
Lews gave such a start at the intrusion, and he stood up sneezing loudly, the rancid smell still strong in his nose. Taller than most of his peers he certainly stood over everyone’s head while they were all sitting down.
“What are you doing, you look like a dork, hurry and sit down before anyone notices.” His best friend [Ishamael]() tried to warn him. However, it was already too late for that, most of the class was now looking at him which made him self conscious even if the women all said he looked like a dream. Worse, the teacher at the front of the class in a very similar black colored uniform was looking at him expectedly.
“Yes Lews, do you think you know the answer?” To Lews’s horror he realized he had been spending most of the class in a daydream about being the most powerful weaver ever. It was important that distinction, woman channel men weave. Saiadar and Saiadin, two halves of the same whole, both apart of the one power the true source. Everyone could learn to use it, or at least almost everyone. The dai’shan don’t channel or weave for all the power of their songs, not one of them it’s a law to join among other things. Other people might be so weak in the power it should be they don’t have it at all, there are objects which can amplify or temporarily give someone use of the one power, those with so little power that resort to using these transcognative devices were often socially outcast. Transmogs they were called when someone was being nice.
That didn’t help him now, he was in history class, and definitely not studying Transmogs. Lews desperately wracked his brain trying to remember what they were discussing. The teacher’s slight smile was starting to droop to a slight frown. Nym’s that was what they were discussing, what about Nym’s? Desperately looking around for some hope, he finally remembered. It was a question about the first Nym, what was his name?
“Goak him jim knee?” Lews answered with a rightfully apologetic look on his face. Sighing the teacher said “close, Oakhimgimee. At least he was close!” The teacher got progressively louder while giving the rest of the class an evil eye. The laughter that had started quickly quieted. Just at that particular moment a loud bell decided to ring calling an end to that class period.
As the other students started standing up, talking, and starting to head for the door, the teacher weaved a small weave that produced a louder voice reminding the class they had the test coming up at the end of the week.
Lews slowly grabbed his bag and followed the steady stream of students leaving the class.

My hair was beautiful years ago…it was down to my waist, straight and shiny. But I started to dye it really dark and now I’m getting highlights every 2 months. Now my hair can’t past my bra strap, gets frizzy easily, it breaks off, I always see short hair strands after brushing it, which is breakage. I also have a lot of split ends, and I have to cut my hair at every hair appointment which is 2 months apart so what my hair grows my hairstylist has to cut it. I’m so sad about it, I don’t like my hair short (it is not that short, but it is above the bra strap lenght) because I have round face and it makes it even rounder and wider, and my naturally straight hair looks wavier this lenght. The thing is I don’t like my natural ashy brown hair color, it makes my face plain but with blonde highlights it looks a lot brighter. What should I do? I use heat 2-3 times every months (with heat protectant!), I brush it gently, oil my ends every day and use leave ins (K18 and sprays) and hair masks so I don’t know what more I can do.
(Sorry for my English!)

“Before I met the Savior, I was a worthless piece of garbage, barely a human being,” Lovebug droned at the front of the enormous room. Lovebug was a monster of a man, two-hundred and fifty pounds of hard tattooed muscle. Like myself, he was a high-ranking member of the Church.
His flat gray eyes scanned the room with a fanatical gleam. I sat in the first row, watching and waiting. Followers of the Savior would tell their stories, how the Savior had reached down and lifted them out of sin and filth to bring them up to the divine. The bright fluorescent lights overhead droned on with a low hum. Thousands of men crammed together in seats or stood at the back of the room.
The Savior taught only two commandments: to murder is holy, and to die for the Savior is the highest bliss. An army of warriors followed the Savior, knights on a holy crusade, priests who wouldn’t hesitate to burn the foul bodies of any witches or demons we encountered. I thought of myself as a knight for the holy king, our Savior, the mouthpiece of the eternal.
“Now, it is like the hand of God has reached into my heart and loosened all the knots there, the knots of anxiety and fear and uncertainty.” He raised his black, military-style rifle into the air for emphasis. “I never realized the true nature of reality before- the fact that we are living in a simulation where the final battle of good versus evil is playing out before our very eyes. And I will be on the side of the good, until my dying breath. I will be on the side of the Savior and of God!”
The crowd roared and clapped. Men got to their feet, sweating heavily in the boiling hot conference room. I felt the surge of energy pass through me like a tidal wave, the pure confidence and iron will of truth. Lovebug lumbered down off the stage as the Savior came out from behind the red curtains, walking with the straight spine of a soldier. He wore a silky black robe that fluttered softly around him, the hood pulled back.
The Savior had horrific burns running the length of his body. His arms had melted folds of keloid scars visible all the way to the tips of his fingers. His scalp had also melted, and the Savior had no hair except for his eyelashes and eyebrows. But the fire that had nearly killed him had spared his face, an aristocratic visage with ferocious green eyes like those of a cat. That face seemed like it had been sculpted out of marble by DaVinci himself, the high cheekbones jutting out over a chin so sharp that it looked like it could have hammered nails into boards. He stared out at the crowd for a long moment, his gaze unblinking.
“The final battle has begun,” he said in a low voice, no more than a whisper. Yet, in the deathly silence of the hall, his words rang out loud and clear. “Those in charge of this illusory world know that we see them. We see them very well, how they hide behind the curtain. They control the world economy, the justice system. Every government, whether they call themselves communist, authoritarian or democratic, is no more than a puppet in their dancing fingers.
“When anyone tries to stand up and lead the masses of suffering people towards freedom from slavery, they are vilified by the mainstream media, brought up on false charges or killed, their bodies staged to look like a suicide. Look what they did to Jesus, and for what? For telling people to love God more than their rulers? And those who speak out today are also crucified, murdered in prisons or killed by their governments. Truth is the most precious commodity, after all. It is one that can only be purchased with blood.
“So what can we do? How can we fight against such evil?” There was a quiet muttering among the pale, frozen faces that stared up at the stage with adoration and love.
“We can fight it by using their own weapons against them!” the Savior said, his voice rising in speed and pitch. He raised his fisted hands to his chest, accentuating each syllable with a back and forth stab of his hands. “Fight fire with fire, and pay back blood with blood! The only thing these global terrorists understand is greater levels of force. We must show them death on a scale they have never before imagined.” I felt nervous as the Savior delivered his message. I saw other men shuffle anxiously in the crowded auditorium, most of them having high-caliber rifles slung around their shoulders.
I felt the rising violence and bloodlust in the air like electricity before a lightning storm. At that moment, I knew we would all have to fight before too long.
***
The Savior called me and Lovebug back to his office after the speech had ended, sending his squirrely assistant over to deliver the hand-written note in the Savior’s blocky, copperplate handwriting. For a long moment, I simply watched the crowd filtering out of the doors, heading back towards the complex where all the holy soldiers of the Savior lived. Feeling dissociated and light-headed, I followed behind the massive muscular form of Lovebug, the heavy weight of the M16 bouncing against my chest. We pushed through the blood-red velvet curtains, winding our way past stage equipment and down a hallway of pure marble.
Mystical paintings similar to those of Alex Grey covered both walls, showing the inside workings of the human body through art. It was as if the painter had X-ray vision and could see the heart chakra and the countless thin vessels that spiderwebbed up to the crown. But, unlike Alex Grey’s hopeful depictions of mysticism, these showed men and women being burned alive, crucified, decapitated or strangled. Dark colors composed the paintings: the dark blue of a suffocating face, the clotted red of an infected stab wound, the black of death. They captured the essence of struggle perfectly.
The Savior’s office had a thick mahogany door with silver engravings of leaves and vines running the length of it. At the top stood a single staring eye with twelve wavy tentacles emerging from the perimeter of it- the symbol of God, who the Savior had seen personally. God would sometimes speak through the mouth of the Savior, always during times of great tribulation or suffering. Lovebug knocked at the door. The Savior’s deep voice echoed out faintly.
“Come in.”
We entered slowly, the sprawling desk of the Savior filling half of the room. He sat in a comfortable chair behind it, reclining. On the walls behind him, he had pictures of Jesus, Saint Stephen, Gandhi, Hitler, Jim Jones, Shoko Asahara and others who he taught had fought against the world elites and been killed for it.
The Church of the Final Rapture was not a church in the conventional sense. The main teachings didn’t revolve around the divinity of Christ or the nature of original sin. What the Savior taught was far more profound- an illusory or simulated world where every single person could become their own Christ, could awaken to the truth and perform miracles, but only if they believed fully and followed the Savior.
“Sit down, please,” he said in his gravelly voice. “I have a mission I would like to discuss, and you two are the only ones competent and loyal enough to carry it out.”
***
“There is another anomaly spreading,” the Savior said, staring between me and Lovebug with his fanatical emerald eyes. “It is located in a rural part of the United States, in a town called-” he glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him- “Frost Hollow. Supposedly, there are black-ops sites located nearby, secret alphabet agencies experimenting with magnetic distortion systems and creating rips in the fabric of spacetime with micro-wormholes.
“I don’t think it is much of a leap to say that the anomaly was likely started, either intentionally or unintentionally, by the government, as part of their research. The Cleaners would like to control that power, after all. They have been sending their men after it for years like sheep to the slaughter, expending billions of dollars researching it. If they and the US government end up being able to control the creation and spread of anomalies, they will use it to enslave the world. There is no question about it in my mind.” He leaned forwards towards us, his eyes growing cold.
“There is only one path forward I can see. We need to spread the anomaly, make it become unstable so the demons of Hell contained within it can spill out onto the real world. Perhaps it will awaken the downtrodden masses enough to begin the final revolution. We must fight terrorism with greater terrorism, and violence with greater levels of violence. For this mission, I am sending the two of you into Frost Hollow.
“Your job will be to find the Titan or Titans and lead them out to the border of the anomaly. These are horrendous beasts- indeed, the Church has seen them before. They are nearly impossible to kill. I want you two to go inside, bait it and have it follow you back to the edge, beyond the veil.”
“What’s a Titan?” Lovebug asked, his eyes flicking left and right nervously. The Savior stared at him stonily for a long moment. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. All the blood seemed to drain from his face. His teeth chattered, his mouth opened, and through it, God spoke, the words pouring out like crashing stones. The voice did not sound anything like the Savior’s. It sounded much deeper, more mechanical, more alien somehow.
“I see you very well. I saw you when you were no more than a blood clot in your mother’s body. I see you even as corpses, rotted, putrefying, crawling with scavengers and insects. I see everything, every moment of time. But, in the anomaly, there are things I cannot see. For this, my holy ones must go forth.
“In the center of Hell, you will find a rose, a bird and a stone. These will be your salvation, if salvation can be found at all. Go with the blessing of Yaldabaoth.” The voice cut off abruptly, the silence deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears.
The Savior’s eyes came back down, looking confused and uncertain. His pupils were dilated and he was sweating heavily, even though it was cool and air-conditioned back here in his private office. We stared at each other across the table, a no-man’s land that protected me like a shield. For there seemed to be something dark in the Savior along with the light, and I didn’t know if any man could contain that power.
But there was no question of disobeying. Within the hour, Lovebug and I were on one of the Church’s private jets flying to the town of Frost Hollow.
***
The gently rolling hills of Frost Hollow loomed below us as the plane circled the small dirt airstrip in the middle of some cow farms. I looked up at Lovebug, trying to judge his stony expression. He had done many years in prison before joining the Church and finding salvation, even being the leader of one of the gangs. I knew he wasn’t afraid of violence. He had never told me what he did, what tortured him so much.
The Savior had told us much secret knowledge- how to find a Titan, a massive, bloated abomination that could come into being only within an anomaly, a combination of many rotted body pieces fused together in some sort of hellish black magic. The Savior had spies around Frost Hollow and the surrounding towns who had been monitoring the anomaly, watching the unstable gateways leading in and out and mapping them as best they could. We would be given a fast car, plenty of weapons and some body armor. I had no idea how nightmarish the journey would become, however.
“I’m driving,” Lovebug said as we descended the steps. A man in a black suit with the symbol of the eye and tentacles pinned on his black button-up shirt pulled up with a Mercedes AMG-One. It was a sleek, silver thing of immense luxury and power. The craftsmanship made it look like a work of art. I sighed, keeping my finger nervously on the trigger of my rifle as I glanced around the strange, empty town.
“If this thing won’t outrun a Titan, then nothing will,” I said, trying to break the tension. I looked at the speedometer, seeing it went up to 220 miles an hour.
“Damn fucking right,” Lovebug growled as we slid into the futuristic-looking leather seats. The engine turned on like a softly purring kitten. The GPS automatically turned on as well, the soft robotic voice leading us toward one of the more stable portals to the anomaly.
Lovebug sped down the empty forest roads of Frost Hollow, going twice the legal speed limit the entire way.
“The speed limit is only for the lowest common denominator,” Lovebug said pedantically, waggling a tattooed finger for emphasis. The GPS said we would reach the gateway to the anomaly in five minutes. Based on Lovebug’s speed, I thought it would be more like two. “Someone who actually knows how to drive and isn’t drunk or high can easily do 80 in a 40. Easily.” I glanced nervously at the speedometer, realizing he was going over 100 miles an hour now. The sports car hugged the tight corners of the winding forest roads with absolute precision.
“Turn right onto Snake Island Road Extension in five hundred feet,” the robotic female voice. Lovebug slammed on the brakes a few seconds later, the tires skidding and locking up. We looked around frantically, seeing no streets anywhere except the one we were on.
“What the hell?” Lovebug asked. The night was crawling in by now, the darkness covering the forests like a curtain. I squinted, looking at the thick grove of trees on our right, scanning it back and forth over and over. After a few seconds, I realized there was an overgrown dirt path there with no sign. It was nearly impossible to see at night, however, and calling it a road was somewhat of a joke.
“Oh, damn,” I said. “They should’ve given us an SUV.”
***
According to the GPS, our destination was only a thousand feet down Snake Island Road Extension. The low clearance of the Mercedes was a problem as Lovebug tried to navigate the flooded forest path. Deep tread marks flooded with black, stagnant water marked the entirety of Snake Island Road Extension. But ahead, the headlights illuminated something unusual.
Cutting straight across the trees and brush like a razorblade was a shimmering wall of translucent energy. It reminded me of a mirage, curving upwards in wavy spiral patterns. I could see through it easily, but it gave everything a dark, sinister covering. The forest seemed to be in constant motion as the grayish light distorted it.
“Look how huge it is!” I said in awe, staring up at the starry sky. The flat wall rose up seemingly forever, disappearing in the cold void of infinite space. Lovebug slowly ambled the car towards the anomaly, trying to keep the Mercedes from getting stuck with its low clearance.
“You ready for this, man?” Lovebug asked in a quavering voice as we inched towards the anomaly. It was only seconds away now. He grabbed my shoulder. “This is it. Remember the commandments.” I closed my eyes, concentrating my heart on the Savior’s words. Dying for the good is the highest bliss, he had told us.
“Let’s do this,” I said, my eyes flying open from my silent prayer as the hood passed through the anomaly. It disappeared in front of our eyes. We could see the forest on the other side, but the Mercedes looked like it was going through some sort of teleportation portal, being ripped apart layer by layer and sent somewhere else. Lovebug nervously grabbed my hand.
“For the Savior and for the Good,” he whispered as we passed through.
***
I heard screaming and wailing, full of agony and unimaginable horror, like the screams of those burning in Hell. My vision went white. A carpet of morphing dark colors covered everything as the shrieking intensified, until I thought my eardrums would explode.
“Stop!” I cried, feeling the pressure in my head like a splitting migraine. “Stop screaming!” I started kicking, punching, trying to get away.
“Calm the fuck down!” someone whispered, slapping me hard across the face. Stunned, I looked up, seeing Lovebug holding me down in the seat. He was covered in sweat, his face a blank mask of terror. “Don’t scream. There’s things outside that are looking this way.” I blinked fast, my senses coming back to me. I felt like a man waking up from surgery, confused and disoriented, my memories only returning in small trickles and drops.
We were sitting in the Mercedes on a road that looked like it had been made of human skin. The headlights showed the ragged patches of pale, leathery flesh sewn together with black thread. The road disappeared ahead of us in a straight line. The land here looked as flat as Kansas. Like a mirror world, it had houses and restaurants and churches lining both sides of the road, but they were all wrong.
The stone church looked like it was constructed of some kind of red volcanic rock. Baphomets and upside-down pentagrams covered the outer walls, engraved deeply into the glossy surface. Mutilated bodies covered the front lawn, impaled, crucified, skinned alive or burned at the stake. Hundreds of men, women and children lay dead in front of the Satanic temple.
Overhead, the sky bubbled and frothed with red clouds and constant explosions of blue lightning. Like missile flashes, the lightning illuminated the world around us, shining brightly before going dark. The incessant strobing gave the entire place a kind of circus freakshow vibe.
Many of the homes looked like they had been constructed from bones and covered in human skin, like some sort of hellish teepee. Arm and leg bones wrapped in razor-wire formed the pillars. Grinning skulls lined the top of the flat, rectangular roofs, thousands of bleached human heads staring down.
Staring out of the dark doorways, I saw gleaming, silvery eyes. They loomed eight or nine feet in the air on spidery bodies. Their limbs looked as thin as bones, jet-black and dull. The only color from these still revenants was from their unblinking eyes and grinning mouths, where teeth like those of a dragonfish jutted out. Every pair of eyes on that street was fixed intently on the Mercedes, the sick rictus grins on their alien faces never faltering.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling weak. “I thought I was in a nightmare for a minute there.” Lovebug shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Yeah, I felt it too, though I came out of it a lot faster than you did,” he said, glancing over at the Satanic church as we passed. It had protective black spikes rising high into the air all around it. The broken body of a child who had been burnt at the stake stood in front of the gates like a death omen, his small, withered hand holding a black rose. Lovebug choked, retching. He nearly rolled down the window, until his eyes met the silvery ones of a nearby abomination.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking closer at the church. On top of the roof, I saw an enormous statue of a black raven, its wings spread as if it were flying. It had three gleaming, silvery eyes embedded into the dark rock.
“That boy just reminds me of my son,” Lovebug whispered glumly, inching along the streets.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” I said, surprised. Lovebug had never mentioned a family. He shrugged.
“I don’t. Not anymore. I killed him. I got drunk and high one night back when I was selling drugs. Fell asleep in the living room with a lit cigarette and burned down the whole house. I killed my wife and son, burned them. They sent me to prison, but what did that matter? The prison up here is far worse.” He tapped the side of his temple.
I was about to say something, but at that moment, many things happened at once.
***
Lovebug was staring at the corpse of the child when an inhumanly long arm reached up from the side of the car. It had fingers like spikes, as sharp as a knife and twice as long as normal human fingers. I gasped, a warning shout welling up in my throat, but the hand came smashing down into the driver’s side window and grabbed Lovebug’s neck.
The window exploded in a shower of safety glass, shattering like brittle bones. Lovebug’s scream was cut off as he was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the car. I swung open my door, leaping out and bringing my rifle around.
The Cheshire Cat grin of the abomination never faltered as it held Lovebug in front of its body like a human shield, holding him by the neck above the ground. Lovebug’s legs kicked and squirmed, his face turning blue as he slowly suffocated. His eyes bulged from their sockets, panicked and rolling, uncomprehending in their total animal panic.
I flicked on the laser sight. It danced over the ground, flashing over the body of Lovebug and the abomination. But I couldn’t aim for its torso or face, as I would probably hit Lovebug in the process. It was far too close.
I aimed for the monster’s thin, skeletal feet, the black toes twisting over each other like the roots of a tree. The gunshots rang out as a deafening counterpoint to the thunder blasts.
The monster gave a hissing gurgle as two bullets caught it in the right ankle. The creature seemed bloodless, and only dust and ashes rolled out of the exploded insectile flesh. It tried to skitter away, but its destroyed ankle caused it to fall forward, throwing Lovebug.
His body rolled across the road, the soft leather that looked like it was made from tens of thousands of human skins. Gasping, his lips still showing a faint blue cast, he struggled to crawl away.
I saw furtive movement from all around us. The creatures in the houses and doorways were moving forwards, drawn by the bloodshed or noise. Hundreds of glowing, silvery eyes surrounded us. I sprinted forward, dragging Lovebug to his feet.
“The church,” I hissed. “It’s the only place.” Still pulling the weak, confused Lovebug behind me, we staggered towards the black gates. They opened with a shriek of rusted metal.
***
The creatures stopped at the gates to the blood-red church, simply staring at us like statues. They didn’t even seem to breathe, their lidless eyes never blinking, the silvery glow never fading.
“I think this is the place we’re meant to go,” I whispered as we made our way towards the massive pointed doors. “When God spoke to us, he said something about a stone, a bird and a rose, that we would find the Titan through that.” I pointed back at the burnt body of the boy. “He’s holding a rose. On top of the building, there’s a bird. And the church is all stone. Maybe this is the place where God wanted us to go all along.”
“Maybe,” Lovebug muttered through heaving gasps, still grabbing at his bruised neck. “God, this hurts. It feels like I got hanged.” Side by side, we pushed open the doors to the Satanic church and walked inside.
***
Row after row of pews stretched out in front of us. Thousands of black candles were set up all around the perimeter of the enormous chamber. They sputtered and flickered constantly, throwing dancing shadows in every direction.
A small pair of bright eyes glanced up at us from under one of the nearby pews. I nearly jumped out of my skin, pointing the rifle at them and yelling.
“Show yourself! Come out now, or I shoot!” Lovebug looked at me, confused. He hadn’t seen it. But a few heartbeats later, a little girl crawled out, her eyes big and blue, her body an emaciated wreck. She wore ripped strands of what looked like leathery human skin to cover herself, tied together with black string. In one small, grime-streaked hand, she held a half-eaten raw mouse.
“Please, don’t kill me,” she said in a small voice. “I’m Emma. My mommy and daddy got dragged away and I’m scared.” I felt sick and weak looking at this small victim. I reached down and helped her up.
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” I said, kneeling down to her level. “I thought you were one of the bad guys. This is Lovebug, and I’m Jack.”
“This isn’t part of the mission, man,” Lovebug said nervously. “What are we supposed to do with her?”
“Well, we can’t just fucking leave her here,” I whispered back. “We need…” But I never got to finish that thought. Because, at that moment, the church woke up.
***
A red glow started at the front of the chamber, the altar where the priest would have stood and given speeches or holy communion. Here, they had a podium that looked like it was carved from a single block of obsidian. Reflected in it, I saw the screaming faces of people burning in Hell, grinning demons ripping off strips of human flesh and spiraling waves of flames, all sculpted by an artist who was able to capture the most miniscule details of agony and torture.
I looked around, realizing Emma had gone. I hadn’t seen her scurry away and hide, but her absence gave me a feeling of crushing dread in my chest.
“Lovebug, something’s wrong,” I whispered, still staring up at the altar. I heard a floorboard creak behind me. I glanced back just in time to see a man wearing full SWAT gear. I caught the flash of a pistol coming down, the butt aimed at my forehead. I heard the cracking, felt the immense pressure and pain. For a few moments, I swam in the currents of consciousness, trying to stay awake, but then the blackness crept in and stole me away.
***
I awoke suddenly, my hands tied so tightly behind my back that I couldn’t feel my fingers. I felt sick and wanted to throw up. I quickly choked those feelings back down. I tried to shake my head, to clear it, but that just brought jolts of pain like electricity shooting through my skull. Nearby, I heard a gunshot, then another.
“Bring it, fuckers!” Lovebug screamed in an insane voice. The explosion of a grenade rocked the building, and I smelled choking black smoke. I opened my eyes, seeing three men in SWAT gear laying dead, their bodies scattered haphazardly around the chaotic scene. One wall of the church had blown outwards, the stone still sending out gray wisps of wavy smoke into the air. I looked at my partner, seeing he had a bullet hole in his left arm and another one in his stomach. He was bleeding heavily, but the adrenaline and insanity seemed to keep him afloat- for now, at least.
I saw something walking towards us from the stage. It looked like a small boy, but black shadows spiraled up around his chest and face, translucent and shimmering darkly. He looked about five or six, his skin pale and smooth. As Lovebug’s face grew slack and distant, the boy abruptly erupted into flames.
“Don’t kill me again, Dad,” the small boy whispered in a hoarse voice choked with pain. The flames rose from his head and skin, melting his flesh, blackening it. Drops of boiling fat dribbled off his nose and chin. “Don’t send me to the dark place again, Dad…” He continued creeping closer to Lovebug, moving like a lion stalking an antelope.
“I didn’t know!” Lovebug cried, his face going paler. Tears streamed from his eyes as the rifle trembled wildly in his shaking hands. For a long moment, he looked torn, the finger tightening on the trigger as sobs escaped his chattering lips.
“Kill it, Lovebug!” I screamed. “Don’t let it get to you!” But as he dropped the rifle and knelt before the small boy, I knew it was too late.
The shadows spun faster and faster around the burning, dying body of the boy. He gave a scream of soul-shattering agony, reaching out to a small hand towards Lovebug.
“Help me!” the boy cried. Lovebug hesitated before bringing an arm up to take the boy’s hand.
“I missed you, Robbie,” Lovebug said before his fingers brushed the boys. The boy lunged forward, grabbing Lovebug’s hand with an iron grip. I saw Lovebug’s eyes widen in shock and surprise. A moment later, I heard the bones in his hand grinding together before breaking with a sound like snapping tree branches. The boy’s eyes darkened into jet-black orbs, the melted lips splitting into a sadistic grin.
“I missed you, too,” the thing hissed as its right arm changed, melting and reforming into something black and blade-like. The insectile limb swung forward in a blur, coming straight at Lovebug’s heart. He gave a panicked squeal a moment before it hit, trying to pull away with all of his considerable strength, his face turning chalk-white as the shattered bones in his hands ground together.
I closed my eyes, rolling away, trying to undo the knots that held my hands in place. Lovebug must have been greatly outnumbered. He would never have let that man tie me up. I heard the sounds of tearing meat and crunching bone nearby. Lovebug’s final breaths gurgled through the air, but I still kept my eyes closed, not wanting to look.
I felt a small tickle on my wrists, then heard a little voice next to my ear.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Emma whispered. I waited a few moments, then I heard the ropes snap. I looked back, seeing her holding a piece of sharp, broken glass in one tiny hand. In her other, she had the car keys. I wondered how she had gotten them, the little pickpocket.
“Thank God,” I said, rubbing my wrists. I looked around for my rifle, seeing it was laying next to the body of one of the SWAT guys. I wondered who these men were. I crawled towards it slowly, not wanting to draw attention.
“Don’t move another step,” a voice growled behind me. I glanced back, seeing the small boy, his features morphing into those of a demon. Curving horns spiraled from his temples. His jet-black eyes stared down at me with hatred and coldness. “You’ll follow your friend who killed my servants. His soul will stay alive forever within my body, a sickly thing wrapped up in an eternal shriek.”
“Fuck you,” I cried, lunging for my rifle. Emma disappeared behind a pew, running on all fours without looking back. I spun as I hit the ground, turning the barrel towards the morphing face of the shape-shifter. Its jaw unhinged, a snake-like tongue flicking out as it flew through the air towards me. Hollow fangs dripping clear venom grew from its mouth in a heartbeat, elongating and sharpening before my very eyes.
I fired twice, the bullets entering through its mouth and coming out the back of its head. Its flesh disintegrated in an instant, the body turning into light, gray ashes that disappeared in the breeze. Breathing hard, I waited, wondering if it was all over.
I heard a rumbling far below me, as if an earthquake were starting. A moment later, the church floor exploded upwards, sharp rubble and splintered boards flying in every direction.
***
“It’s coming!” Emma screamed, running over and grabbing my hand. I lay there, shell-shocked and unmoving for a long moment. In hindsight, the girl was a natural born survivor with much sharper reflexes than me. It was likely the only reason she survived as long as she had.
“The Titan,” I whispered grimly, trying to pull myself up to my feet. But it was like trying to walk on a heaving, sinking ship. Parts of the floor collapsed down into a seemingly never-ending abyss beneath us.
Near the stage, I saw hundreds of long, pale arms pulling something bloated and monstrous out of the ground. It was a Titan, and no explanation can ever convey the true horror of that thing.
It looked like countless human corpses had been melted together, fused into a ball with sagging, boneless chests, deformed faces and millions of writhing maggots. It groaned and gurgled with many lungs, exhaling a rotting, sulfurous breeze that made me want to retch. A soft susurration of many pained, muttering voices continuously emanated from the Titan.
“Emma, run!” I screamed, but she was already sprinting back towards the front door of the church. I backpedaled, afraid to look away from the creeping monstrosity, the juggernaut of rotting flesh moving towards us.
I heard the Titan closing the distance as I sprinted through the front door. The abominations with the silver eyes still slunk around the gate, blocking the car. I raised the rifle, firing blindly at the creatures, careful not to hit the little girl.
“Go to the car!” I screamed at Emma, feeling around for the keys. As the abominations saw the Titan, those still alive scattered, moving in a blur back into the shadows and homes of this rotten place.
The Titan broke the front wall of the church, sending splinters of red stone flying in every direction like bullets. It groaned and gurgled faster, its sickly cries more insistent. I ran to the Mercedes, starting it up and pressing the accelerator to the floor. I pulled a U-turn, heading back to the border of the anomaly.
***
The engine roared, the car bucking like a wild stallion as it pressed me and Emma back into our seats. But the creeping Titan continued gaining speed behind us, and for a few seconds, I feared we would be crushed to death under its massive weight.
The anomaly shimmered ahead of us. I crashed through it at two hundred miles an hour, skidding wildly as the Mercedes hit the dirt road. I nearly flew into a tree. I managed to right it at the last second, pulling onto the paved street as the Titan broke through behind us.
It followed us out. It’s in the real world now.