Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the Nature of Predators universe. Rain World is a video game developed by and property of Videocult. I claim no ownership over either.
Sorry for the wait. Life happened but I just finished my semester, so I’m hoping the next chapter will be finished sooner rather than later. Please let me know if I missed any typos or made any editing mistakes. It’s greatly appreciated.
–
Memory Transcript: Sefril, Farsul First Contact Officer
Date [Standardized Human Time]: July 15, 2136
When I came to, I just laid still. I wasn’t sure what had happened though what was certain was that I was both still alive and still in this dingy box of a room. The predators were you of sight in one of my few blindspots. Jinsul and Dornucl were still alive, with Dornucl understandably agitated and Jinsul seemingly lost in thought.
Stranger yet, no one seemed to be hurt. Maybe Jinsul had gotten them?
Careful, I sat up, only to be greeted by the predators grooming each other. They stared back at me as I froze once again.
“Finally,” Jinsul said, causing me to jump, “I need to ask you something.”
“Oh not this again,” Dornucl said, annoyed. “Ignore him, he’s gone mad.”
“What?” was my only response. The predators seemed to perk up, shifting their reclining posture slightly, ears standing on end.
“You’re supposed to be a scientist, and as such you understand the meaning of overwhelming evidence, yes?” Jinsul said.
“What you’re suggesting is not only the most unscientific conclusion I’ve heard but is also something I’d expect to come out of someone with terminal predator disease,” Dornucl interjected.
I glanced back terrified at the predators, who had not yet chosen to strike and instead decided to lay there. Menacingly.
I pressed myself against the back wall, hoping to fall straight through and away from them.
“Why haven’t you done anything about…them?” I said waving my tail toward the predators. “You’re an exterminator, so…exterminate.”
“With what?” Jinsul shot back and began waving his pistol with one paw while shaking the flamer laying beside with the other, “The handgun that won’t fire with damp ammunition or the flamer that will kill us all in this tight space? Besides, they won’t attack us.”
Dornucl groaned and rubbed his tentacles into his face, while my mouth was agape in shock.
“What do you mean ‘they won’t attack’?! Their bleating predators!”
“Gods, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Jinsul practically screamed in frustration. He took a breath, “OK, sorry, just listen alright? Have you been having weird dreams?”
I stiffened, “I had a dream last night where I almost drowned, but I don’t see what that has to–”
“So, you're telling me you didn’t almost drown?” he said with a knowing look.
I considered it with dawning horror, “But that’s–”
“Impossible,” Dornucl spat out, “And ludicrous.” He turned to me, “As I said, he’s snapped.”
“Then how else do you explain it? My brothers and sisters in arms have confided in me the same: dreams, visions, and inescapable feelings of familiarity in the unfamiliar. Those who heed them escape danger, while those who don’t, don’t.”
As Jinsul spoke, a true zealotry was imbued in his voice.
“I’ll give you this, by all means, these visions should be impossible and unexplainable by science.” Fervor glinted in his eyes. “But when science fails, we must turn to faith to guide us.”
A knot formed in my stomach as I got a sneaking suspicion of where he was going.
“It is my belief and that of my lieutenants and clergy that the gods have sent us these visions.” He announced this without a shadow of a doubt in his voice. “They’ve been guiding us from the moment we’ve entered the orbit. The delusions the crew had in orbit? Also the visions.”
It doesn’t make any sense, but he’s right on one thing. These premonitions are impossible, yet they happen and help us avoid danger. However, there has to be a more rational explanation. There just has to be.
“But why?” I ask. “To what end? If your gods are doing this, to what end? If they are behind everything, the visions and maybe the crash, then why what would justify so much suffering? It just doesn't make any sense.”
“That’s the nature of the divine,” he said somberly, “We can speculate why they would send the visions and make us…feel them and their pain all we want, but we are imperfect creatures, and they are things of perfection. We simply need to trust they are leading us to where we need to go.”
As I considered his words, Dornucl once again spoke up condescendingly.
“I can’t believe you even have to CONTEMPLATE what he’s saying!” He slumped down and motioned towards the predators. “Fine then, what do they have to do with your ‘gods’ plan’? Your duty as an exterminator is baked into your religion? What do you have to say to that?”
Jinsul involuntarily flicked his ears, betraying a rising irritation. “I don’t know, I don’t like it, and I don’t have to. They haven’t given us visions of them attacking us and they’ve decided to disable our best weapons. I don’t need to understand why, all I need to know is that there is a reason they would do so. Besides, they haven’t even tried to attack us. You're a biologist, do you consider that normal?”
“Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a lunatic! I could have you put away for this!”
Unlike his normally cool, level-headed, and almost jolly demeanor, Dornucl’s features were twisted in barely veiled rage. It was terrifying to see him on the verge of doing something awful. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the predators.
The one with the grey fur was still lying down, but the other with the dark green fur had stood up and began stomping around in exaggerated and dramatic steps. All while growling and barking.
It was terrifying. However, it was dulled by the sheer surrealness of the situation. Its entire demeanor was less intentionally threatening and more childish mocking, right down to flailing its limbs in much the same way Dornucl did unconsciously to emphasize his point. It may even be funny if we could understand what they were saying.
Wait a minute…
I paused to think about that absent-minded thought, the gears and pistons finally shaking off the shock and beginning to fire and spin. I listened closely to its vocalizations and began to pick out a form of structure in how they were articulated and gestated. I recalled the predators' behavior and came to a grim conclusion.
“We have a problem,” I said so quietly it could barely be considered a whisper.
“Oh, what tipped you off genius?” Dornucl responded sarcastically.
I stumbled a little at the insult but continued.
“No, I mean a bigger problem,” I took a deep breath, “I think they’re sapient.”
The silence was deafening. Even the predator had stopped its mockery and began exchanging words with the other grey-furred one.
Dornucl glanced at the and sighed. “In hindsight, that does explain their behavior.”
Somehow, despite this revelation, Dornucl regained his composure and his cool demeanor.
“Well, in a certain sense, this simplifies things somewhat. We just have to wait for the translators to complete processing their language, then we can hopefully negotiate with them.”
I gawked at what he just said, while Jinsul broke down into laughter.
“And I’m the crazy one!” Jinsul managed to get out between the cackles, “Do you even hear yourself? Mindless animals are one thing, but this? We have the next the Arxur right before us!”
It was at this point that Plako decided to wake up. One can only imagine what was going through his head when he was greeted by 2 predators, a hysterical exterminator, a biologist trying not to show his frustration, and an anthropologist doing her best to fall through the wall.
He began to stammer. “Wh-what h-happened? Why haven’t they eaten us?”
Dornucl leaned over to him and deadpanned. “The predators are sapient.”
Plako froze after he processed this information.
Jinsul calmed down enough to speak more coherently, “Gods, it all makes sense. They must’ve bombed themselves back in the stone age, and have only recently been reclaiming their former technology.”
I spoke up. “I don’t think that’s the case. Remember, the worm showed us an image of that other creature. These predators likely evolved sometime after the civilization's collapse.”
“Well,” Jinsul said while deep in thought, “Now I can say for certain the gods must be involved.”
“Wh-what?” Plako asked trambling.
“Think about it. This whole situation is so astronomically unlikely, from being in an uncharted system in the middle of nowhere at the same time as a single Arxur ship to surviving the crash, and then meeting these predators, and them not attacking us. The gods’ intend for us to purge these creatures before they can spread and save the remnants of this civilization from–”
“No, I’m pretty sure it was laughing at you, not with you.” A masculine said from the back of the chamber.
“Fine, but I think I’m finally getting somewhere.” A feminine voice responded.
Jinsul went quiet as our gazes fell upon the predators. The translators finished translating. No one knew what to do, so we ended up just staring.
They both stared back with their unnerving abyssal eyes.
“I do wish they’d stop staring though. It’s starting to get weird.” The female said with a tone of unease.
“Let’s bring them to the village and have Oracle translate. It’s probably just a misunderstanding,” the male responded.
“Right, there's nothing we can do about it now.” She plopped beside the male and both began to get ready to sleep the best one could on the hard floor.
I felt something poke into my side, causing me to jump. Dornucl had crawled over to me and began to speak in a whisper. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.
His frustrated look returned. “You're the first contact specialist, go first contact.”
“And their predators!” I said, raising my voice a little louder, “They’ll eat me!”
He groaned and put on a forced calm. “While I disagree with Jinsul’s reasoning, they haven’t eaten us yet and we all want it to stay that way. Now if they decide they do want to eat us, we don’t have any weapons that wouldn’t be suicidal to use. If we want to get out of this alive and well, we’ll have to at least communicate with them.”
Jinsul, who had been effortlessly eavesdropping on us, muttered something under his breath. Dornucl ignored him as he continued, “So please at least try. Even if you fail, we’re likely doomed anyway.”
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I just wish it wasn’t me who had to do it or that I was the only one remotely qualified to do so. Haf was still unconscious, Plako looked on the brink of tears, Dornucl was just a scientist, and Jinsul wasn’t in the mood.
I gathered my strength and began running through what I could say. After a minute of idle thought, I came up with the only thing I could say. I stood up on quivering legs, took a brave step forward, and called upon the translator’s imparted knowledge.
“J-just so yo-you know, we’re not very tasty…and we’ll give you in-indigestion, so you shouldn’t eat us.” I felt like I was about to throw up.
The predators just stared at me, jaws agape and revealing menacing fangs. Jinsul nearly collapsed in renewed laughter. Dornucl buried his eyes into his tentacles and muttered something to himself.
“What was I supposed to say?” I said to Dornucl.
“ANYTHING BUT THAT!” he shot back.
Before I could snap back in frustration, the grey predator spoke.
“You speak our tongue the entire time? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
We paused, and even Jinsul stopped laughing like a madman. Wordlessly, Dornucl shoved me forward.
“N-no…” I stammered, “We have an implant in our heads that translates languages in real-time while allowing us to speak stored languages. It only just figured out your language just now.”
“So it’s a Mark of Communication?” It asked.
“I don’t–”
“No no,” the green one interrupted, “If they had one, then we wouldn’t be able to understand them.”
The grey one nodded sagely.
I had been expecting an equally long-winded and terrifying conversation about the plausibility of a universal translator and whether or not it was magic, not such a matter-of-fact statement. Before I could shake off the confusion, Dornucl suddenly spoke up, “What’s a mark of communication?"
“Definitely from beyond the wall,” the green one said to the grey.
The grey one nodded and turned back to us.
“A mark is a special gift, given only to one who reaches the top of Pebbles and meets with him, wherein he provides the mark and the knowledge necessary to complete the Pilgrimage. Did you receive your ‘translator’ from another like him?” They both seemed oddly interested in the answer.
“We made them,” I said, then quickly added, “The Federation did. We didn’t build them personally. Just to reiterate, you're not going to eat us, right?”
“Of course not.” The green one said, its voice rife with disgust. “Why do you–”
Jinsul swiftly cut it off.
“Do you think you win us over with such obvious deceptions?” Jinsul stood and sized up the predators, “I know this game. You’re just keeping us around till you get hungry. When I get off this rock, I’ll ensure the god’s wishes are seen through and this entire planet is burned from orbit!”
The predators seemed confused about what was said. The green one stepped too close to me, with nowhere to go, I froze and closed my eyes.
This is it Sefril. You knew this was coming. Don’t resist and maybe it will be–
“Is he okay?” it asked, feigning concern and pointing to a still-ranting Jinsul, “In, y’know…” it said as it tapped its claw against its head.
Jinsul paused momentarily as he took in what was just said, then began fuming again. “I DON’T HAVE BRAIN DAMAGE!” he shrieked.
It took a step back at the outburst. It put its arms out, but instead of lunging toward him, it seemed as though it was trying to shield itself from him, or at the very least keep him at a comfortable distance.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” It said, the translator framing it apologetically to my confusion, “I have a cousin who fell off a pole as a pup and landed on his head. You sorta act like him.”
Jinsul reached a new, as of yet unknown level of hate. He stood there for a second, simmering not unlike a faulty water boiler. Dornucl stepped behind him, raised some robust science thingy above his head, and brought it down on Jinsul’s.
Jinsul flopped to bring like a rag doll beside Haf. Everyone, including the predators, was speechless. Everyone except Dornucl.
“Everyone shut up!”, he said in a practical growl, “This is confusing for all of us, and antagonizing each other isn’t going to make this situation any better. Here’s how this will go: We’ll have a polite conversation, get to know each other, and then figure out what to do.”
He turns to the predators. “My name is Dornucl, and this is Sefril, Plako, Jinsul, and Haf. What’s your’s?”
“My name is Stone,” The grey-furred one responded, “And this is Light.” He said pointing to the green one.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Light said, not skipping a beat, “Where are you from?”
Oh boy, getting right into it.
“So…” I began, but Plako jabbed me.
“You can’t,” he whispered in a panic, “There are predators, if they find out about the federation it’ll be the Arxur all over again.”
I look nervously at Dornucl, who nods reassuringly. I take a deep breath. “I know, but they’ll find out sooner or later. Besides, they may be predators, but they are also primitives. We have a natural advantage, if not physically than technologically and intellectually.”
I returned my attention to ‘Light’ and ‘Stone’, who did their best not to look like they were eavesdropping. “As I was saying…this is a little complicated. You know the stars, right?”
They nodd.
“We are from the stars.”
They blinked at us. They glanced around at us, trying to read our expressions.
“What do you mean?” Stone asked hesitantly.
I took a deep breath and launched into an explanation. “You know how we are currently in this world? There are others like, very, very far away. So far away that if you spent your entire life running as fast as you could you’d never even glimpse it.”
“Then how did you come here?” Light asked, “Did you use magic like the Ancients did?”
I took a mental note to inquire more about these Ancients, then resumed. “No, we, and the Federation as a whole, use large machines called ‘spaceships’. Each is equipped with a device called a subspace drive, which allows for faster-than-light travel. With this, we can travel between stars in days, weeks, or months depending on the distance between the stars.”
“Hey, I’m pretty fast, but I don’t think that going faster than me would make much of a difference if it’s that far away.”
Stone let out a good-natured snicker. “I think she meant light from a lantern or the sun.”
“Ah,” she remarked, ears pressed back in mild embarrassment. She tilted her head in confusion, “But that sounds like magic to me.”
“It’s not, ok? It’s just science.” I say with a sigh. Surprisingly, the word science seemed to translate without much of a fuss and they even nodded along. Something else to look into.
Stone asked the dreaded question: “Then how does it work?”
“I don’t know but I’m sure Plako could give you a basic…” I began to say when Plako started to make wild motions, trying to communicate he had no idea how it worked without drawing attention. He succeeded in trying to tell me that while failing to stay incognito. The predators turn their piercing eyes on him.
“Don’t worry about him,” I say hastily before they can speak, “It’s not his specialty.”
“What’s his specialty?” Stone asked. Plako visibly cringed, but this time Dornucl saved him.
“Let’s save the more technical discussions for tomorrow. It’s late, and we’re all tired.”
Light gave Stone a look before turning back to us. “Agreed. We both had a rough cycle. We even died a few times.”
They settled down while we were left to ponder the absolute bombshell they had dropped on us. Plako seemed checked, while Dornucl and I just shared a look. I recalled what Jinsul had come up with and felt a pit form in my stomach.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked dumbfounded.
Stone looked up from where she was cuddling up next to Light. “What do you mean? Was it something I said?”
“Yes, it was something you said,” I said while trying not to hyperventilate, “You said you died. What do you mean by that?”
Both predators looked confused. “You know, the Cycle. Wake up, Die, wake up. Don’t you have the Cycle where you’re from?”
“...no…” I say in an empty voice. “By any chance, you wouldn’t happen to remember these deaths as dreams?”
The predators gave me a look of confusion, before Light nodded. I stared for an eternity, and this time the predators were the ones to give us uncomfortable looks. They whispered between themselves, occasionally shooting glances back towards us though taking no other action.
Unfortunately, our solace from their gazes didn’t last, as Stone turned back to us. “I can see that there are certainly…things that need to be sorted out between us, but I think Door-Knuckle had the right idea.”
I nodded, barely registering what he was saying. The others muttered in half-hearted agreement. Satisfied, the predators continued to snuggle up beside each other. Within moments, they were fast asleep.
We stayed quiet for a long while. Plako crawled closer to Dornucl and me. “They’re lying, right? I mean, they have to be. It’s what predators do.”
I couldn’t muster myself to answer him. Dornucl seemed flustered.
“Say something…please…” Plako pleaded, raising his voice above the whisper he had it at before. Thankfully the predators didn’t wake. We just sat there, letting it all sink in.
“It’s…let’s…” Dornucl started to say, before settling on “Damn it.”
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The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

First/Previous
"Watch out!" Jack yelled out to the crowd as the now-glowing overhead turrets, long dormant and forgotten, suddenly whirred to life with a mechanical hum, tracking his movements as he ran, shoving past a group of unsuspecting Xarak to the side as he moved to dodge the torrent of rapid fire aimed right at him, kicking up smoke as the superheated plasma churned the ground underneath him, before the sound of gunfire abruptly stopped.
"Fucking overheating shittubes!" the voice on the speakers cursed. "The Outsider is by the two broken pillars!"
"I see him!" a voice replied from out of the crowd as Jack got his bearings, spotting a group of three uniformed soldiers rushing towards him. As the leader moved to stab him with a nasty-looking barbed shortspear, Jack quickly juked the direction he intended to dodge, dipping to the right as he smashed the avian in the stomach with a vicious kick, shuffling back as he caught the blade of the second soldier with his bracer before throwing them off balance, lashing back at the first with his elbow as he did.
He moved to check the third that was moving to take a swing at him with a bat, but before Jack could do so the soldier was suddenly yanked back as a long, coiled leather whip snapped around them. Following along, Jack spotted an older grey-skinned ganger in black leathers with a coarse, black beard to match his scraggly hair sat down with his back to a wall, casually drinking a beer as he observed the chaos with a mischievous smirk.
As the soldier pulled back his bat to strike the interloper, the ganger grinned and looked down where his legs were already spread wide, revealing a strange metal crotch plate. Suddenly making a jerking motion with one of his legs, the plate flipped up to reveal the barrel of a huge codpiece gun that flipped up to point directly at the soldier, before it fired once, catching the solder completely by surprise as the top of their body was utterly obliterated by a bolt of powerful plasma energy. Smirking, the ganger gave Jack a wink, chugging down the rest of his drink, before charging into the brawl.
Hearing an almighty roar, Jack turned around only to be knocked back yet again as a broken, avian body was roughly lobbed at him, staggering him backwards as the Redeemer turned to the last of the bird-like gangsters, picking him up with immense strength and smashing them to the ground before advancing towards the human more cautiously this time, shoving drunken brawlers out of the way.
“I have long waited for this moment, Outsider. With your death, my King shall grant you redemption!” The Redeemer snarled. Now having a good look at him, Jack couldn’t see any visible weapons on him, which was strange. Last time, he’d brought a gunship and was taking potshots at him with some kind of high-powered rifle. Then again, considering what happened last time, maybe The Redeemer wanted the satisfaction of using his bare hands to beat him to death.
It wouldn’t be a terrible plan considering everything the Ogar had pulled off so far…
While sports on Earth were often separated by gender, despite some resistance from the more liberal-minded, due to biological differences between men and women, combat sports were a whole different game, with mixed martial arts organisations having very specific weight classes for fair competition between athletes, with two fighters of similar size and weight less likely to cause serious injury to each other.
But if you placed an experienced lightweight against even a novice heavyweight? That would introduce major problems for the smaller fighter, who would need to contend with the extra size, reach and power of their larger opponent. Not an impossible fight, but a tough one.
And Jack very much felt like a lightweight here.
Though of course, he had faced larger opponents before. Even an Ogar, though they had defeated the Laird with a cunning trap. However, he didn’t know how well matched he and The Redeemer were in a fair close-range fight outside of the opening moments of the ambush.
Still, he had little choice but to find out. He didn’t have an easy way to escape, and he didn’t know what the status of the others was. If he ran while they were still here then The Redeemer and the Regulators would simply go after them instead to get to him…
No. He couldn’t allow those thoughts to shake him. His friends knew what the hell they were doing, and they could handle themselves just fine. He had to worry about himself right now.
He couldn’t run, so he had to fight.
With a speed he didn’t expect from The Redeemer, they grabbed a nearby chair and lobbed it right at Jack in one smooth motion before following through with another charge.
‘Aegis!’ Jack yelled as he brought his forearm up, as his new and improved shield eagerly sprung up to take the hit from the chair, before a fist smacked into the side of his head as The Redeemer used the chair as a distraction to change his angle of attack.
Spinning with the blow, Jack fought in his mind to stay in the fight as his vision blurred, with the powerful strike threatening to knock him out then and there, before another fist caught him in the stomach, with his battleskin dispersing a hit that would have otherwise easily taken the air out of his lungs.
Retracting his shield, Jack ducked another punch that threatened to decapitate him as he skidded under the blow, parrying a backfist with his forearm that tingled painfully as he ate the blow, before clocking the Redeemer with a punch to the jaw, his gauntlet extending to cover his knuckles with a well-forged plate of metal to add their power to the strike, before the Redeemer threw out a punch that caught him on the shoulder, sending the deathworlder reeling back.
Jack grit his teeth as he fought through the pain, adrenaline rushing through him. He wasn’t out of the fight yet, but he knew he’d gotten the worst of that engagement.
The Redeemer clearly understood this as well, as the zealot strode towards the human with a confident, wicked grin.
But this time, Jack was ready.
‘Caltrops’ Jack whispered the command word, as his gauntlets gave him a good handful of them, subtly tossing them in front of him with an underhand throw, which had gone unnoticed by the Redeemer as they stared at the human with hatred.
Suddenly dashing forward to quickly close the remaining distance between them, the Redeemer roared as he charged Jack again, suddenly grunting in pain and stumbling as his full, heavy mass sent a sharp, painful spike straight through his armoured boot, causing him to lose focus as he looked down at his foot for just a moment to see what had happened.
A moment of distraction that Jack used to its fullest, as he quickly swung his axe down right at The Redeemer’s head.
However, the Ogar reacted with surprising dexterity as he used his forward momentum to avoid the full force of the axeblade, his metal helmet taking a glancing blow as he shoved Jack off balance, causing him to stumble. Quickly predicting what would come next, Jack dropped his axe on purpose as he prepared for a takedown attempt, dropping low and widening his stance as the Redeemer tackled him around the waist to try and bring him to the ground for a quick finish.
“There will be no salvation for you, human!” The Ogar growled through his pain as Jack was forced back by the Redeemer’s superior strength.
“Aww, did you miss me?” Jack taunted, holding on and walking back with the ever increasing momentum The Redeemer was building as he was pushed back along the dancefloor. “I saw your tantrum on the TV afterwards, didn’t know you were a bitch too!”
‘That’s it, asshole.’ Jack thought to himself as he felt his axe clip back onto his back. ‘Get mad. You showed me last time that you like to talk too much. I need to time this right…'
“Your blasphemy ends here Outsider! I shall smite you in the name of my King!” The insane zealot roared out in an enraged challenge.
With a roar the Redeemer pushed with much greater strength, forcing Jack to change his slow backpedalling into a full on sprint as he scrambled to stay on his feet, fighting to keep his grip above that of the Redeemer’s to maintain his control of the grapple for as long as he could as he was gradually being put off-balance, almost being lifted upwards.
‘I’ve got to hold on until the last possible moment…’ Jack thought to himself, as tables, chairs and people alike were battered to the side.
‘Now!’
As the wooden pillar supporting the balcony passed them in a blur, Jack shifted his weight to the left and relinquished the grapple, using the Redeemer’s momentum against him as he shoved the Redeemer off balance, as they smashed into the crumbling brick wall head first with an almighty crash.
As they stumbled back, yanking their head back out through the newly formed hole, Jack growled as grabbed the Redeemer around the top of one of his legs, yelling with effort as he was only just able to lift the Redeemer up and over him, slamming the Ogar down on the top of his head as hard as he could in a vicious suplex that gave a satisfying crack.
Growling with effort, the Redeemer pushed himself back into a crouch and looked up just in time as Jack’s foot smacked into the side of his head in a savage kick that cracked his metal helmet and dislodged one of his fangs. Roaring in rage and pain, the Redeemer got to his feet only to meet a flying knee that shattered his nose as his helmet cracked and dented with the heavy impacts.
“Redeem that you ugly cunt!” Jack growled, moving in for another strike as the Redeemer shoved him away, showing no signs of faltering as he slowly got to his feet, even after the devastating blows he just took. The Redeemer simply gave Jack a wicked grin of satisfaction, before it fell slightly upon seeing something to Jack’s side.
As Jack’s Ring of the Berserker vibrated again, he spun around to spot a large, lanky Vivren with several piercings in overt heavy armour grinning at him with malicious intent as she pointed a wand at him and cast a word of power.
Before he had any time to react, Jack’s entire body erupted in a wave of agony unlike anything he had ever felt before…
*****
“Fuck! Alora! Sephy? Chiyo? Dante?” Nika coughed as she got up from where the balcony had collapsed from under them.
Looking around, she could see even more patrons fighting around them, revelling in the chaos of the brawl, but she couldn’t spot any of her friends in the immediate aftermath, as thick dust plumed out from the wreckage below her.
‘At least the crew of the ship we’re meant to be travelling on are probably out by now.’ The Kizun thought to herself. ‘Can’t go back, the CorvMart crew will have moved on by now, so sticking to the original plan is probably the best move, unless we can steal a vehicle one of us knows how to pilot.’
Assessing the situation before her, Nika went for her bo staff, though made sure that her shotgun was well within easy reach. Though many of the people fighting around her looked rough, they weren’t attacking her or her friends, and until that changed they could make good allies of convenience, or for a smokescreen to give their enemies the slip if they had to run.
Though slaying as many of their attackers as they could would be preferable.
‘Best way to do that is link up with the others, we’re better as a unit.’ She reasoned, hearing an almighty crash. ‘Well, that’s probably Jack.’
Dodging a thrown bottle as a Squarri ganger missed their intended target - a pissed-off looking quadrupedal furry species that Nika didn’t recognise - before dodging a swing of a bat from a Xarak that saw her as an easy target. Quickly raising her staff she parried the backswing before cracking the other end of the staff across the reptilian’s face, knocking the rough-looking thug out as he collapsed to the ground.
Yet before Nika could think to move on from the conflict, she had to dodge out of the way using her tail as a large Balnath with some kind of cleaver-like sword took a swing at her. Recognising the sigil of the Regulator group Chiyo had told them to watch out for - a stern-looking demonic rune surrounded by a neon-red triangle - Nika parried the next sword swipe from the figure.
“Let me guesth, you want to get to the Outthider?” The Balnath sneered at the Kizun with a lisp so thick that in any other situation she’d have to stop herself from laughing. “I’m stho thorry, but we can’t let you have sthilly ideas like that!”
“Are you for fucking real?” Nika asked as she dodged to the side and put some space between them before quickly switching to her shotgun, letting loose a powerful blast that the Balnath was able to raise his shield up to block.
‘Skill like that? Probably the leader or an officer of some kind.’ The Kizun noted to herself. ‘No choice. I’ve got to kill him.’
“Yeah, I know that you’re finking! You fink my teef make me sound sthupid?” The Balnath growled, with a few experimental chomps. “Well these teef like to gnaw and gnasth on Kizun flesth!”
“Come and try it!” Nika snarled as she twirled her staff around her in a well-practised flourish, eagerly accepting the challenge.
The Balnath charged forward with lightning speed as it came at Nika with a series of feints, before swiping at her with a brutal overhand chop, using both hands. The Kizun was able to deftly parry with her staff, the kinetic modules battering her opponent’s grip to the side, though she felt the strength behind the blow and knew that the Balnath was stronger.
Still, she knew she could take him.
Ever since she was little she had roughhoused with her brothers and the local boys in fights around their ranch, and had learned the hard way from an early age that her gender and short build worked against her when facing her peers, so she had trained to be the strongest she could be, and learned to be quick and tactical to make the best use of that.
She had eventually kept up with the neighbourhood boys, using holds and precise strikes until her elders found out what she was doing when she was meant to be working on the ranch to help the family scrape by, and quickly put a stop to the shenanigans.
When she moved to the city, she only got better from there.
The tip of her staff thundered against the Balnath’s shield like the striking of a gong, forcing the larger being back as Nika could tell he was already tiring. Though she wanted to finish this fight quickly and get to her friends, she knew she couldn’t allow herself to give her opponent an opening, even as she sought to exploit an opening of her own. She had to be patient.
Her staff rattled against the shield again and again, as she felt her opponent’s defence get weaker and weaker, with the powerful force of her kinetic module focusing the strength of her strikes into a single point. Eventually something would break, his shield of his arm. Once his defences were finally down, she would go in swiftly for the kill.
Her opponent’s frustration won out as his shield shattered and fell to the floor, forcing him to attack Nika with a vicious two handed swipe. She blocked the strike handily, before the Balnath grabbed her staff, locking them in a clinch.
“Giff me sthome help over ‘ere!” The Balnath called out, as Nika reached for a knife, forcing the Balnath to adjust his stance as she stabbed blindly, glancing off armoured plates before finding purchase somewhere, causing her attacker to grunt with pain as he shoved her back, holding her up against a wall.
‘Shit.’ She cursed in her mind. ‘He’s stronger than me, but all I need is a moment to take him by surprise and I can break away and kill him!’
She held strong with her arms, holding the Balnath back as his jaws snapped shut barely an inch away from her neck. He tried again, and she pushed back harder, the jaws snapping shut around nothing, but much closer this time.
He tried again, bringing his vicious maw even closer still…
‘Gotcha!’ Nika thought to herself, as she jerked her head forward in a headbutt, catching the Balnath by surprise and giving the Kizun the space she needed to bring her knees up to her chin, before kicking out as hard as she could into the face of the Balnath, knocking him back with a roar of pain, before he leapt forward with a side swipe that Nika used her tail to quickly dodge, before in the same motion she brought the tip of her staff round and smacked the Balnath as hard as she could, right in the face, the powerful strike shattering its lower jaw completely.
“My fathce!” the attacker got out, clutching what little remained of his lower jaw, before looking up in the next moment as they stared down the barrel of Nika’s shotgun.
“Plea-” They got out, before their head was obliterated in an explosion of dark, blackish blood as their body clattered uselessly to the ground.
“Fuck you.” The Kizun retorted. Using her tail to quickly clip the sword to the magnets of her armour, Nika could see more Regulators in the crowd heading towards the DJ booth. Quickly checking her weapons, she headed right into the brawl!
*****
“You don’t belong here, girlie!” the thug cackled as their cybernetic arm crackled with electric discharge.
“Replacto!” Alora snarled as she swiped her wand out, blasting her attacker with a sudden flash of light that sent him stumbling back, clutching at his eyes.
“Anyone else?” Alora asked, trying her best to channel Nika’s cool, calm demeanour, crossed with Jack’s intimidating presence as the cluster of gangers and mercenaries all looked around at each other for just a moment, before deciding that the Eladrie wasn’t actually that intimidating, as one tried to rush her with a broken chair.
‘Oh by the Mother Tree! How do those two do it?’ Alora cursed in her mind as she summoned her spiritual weapon - a spear of light - that she quickly stabbed at the fish-like Osi, gutting them in the stomach which quickly made them drop the chair, while Alora wisely moved to the side to get out of the vicious melee happening all around her. Where were the others?
‘I have to make sure they’re all right.’ the Eladrie determinedly told herself as she began casting another, more complicated spell…
“Attention all idiots!” The voice over the speakers sneered out over the ever-changing music that the DJ didn’t seem to have any control over. “We discussed this. Though the Outsider is a priority, you target the spellcasters first if you can! Must I do everything myself?”
Thrumming with sudden power, the turrets above them finally opened fire, shooting almost indiscriminately at the crowd below, cutting several of the brawling patrons down before they even knew what hit them.
Chanting and waving her hands around as quickly as she dared, Alora maintained her concentration of her spell, completing it just in time as the turrets finally tracked her as she summoned a great holy aura of light to cover herself that would give her the protection she needed, the Armour of Faith deflecting the lights of the laser turrets harmlessly aside.
A loud bark sounded out, and knowing Dante’s warning for what it was, Alora spun around to see two Regulators, who were both Vulstas fighting through the brawl to get to her. Unlike Rena, these two were males, both carrying plasma shotguns but unable to get effective shots off through the crowd. Not that something like that stopped them from trying…
“Stevarin!” she yelled out, pointing her wand at one of the two who was about to open fire on a downed ganger, as with a flash of yellow light their movements slowed, quickly freezing stiff as a board as they failed to resist the Holding spell, their eyes widening in sheer terror as the gang-mates of their would-be-victim set upon them in a fury with fists and clubs, before a spell cast from the rafters sent all of them clattering to the ground clutching at their minds.
‘One of the enemy mages providing overwatch.’ Alora noted as she quickly looked up for any sign of them, but not seeing them. ‘Under a veil of invisibility no doubt.’
Feeling the dull impact of a shotgun blast dissipate harmlessly against her magical armour, Alora spun round to the other Regulator, cursing her moment of hesitation as the Vulsta drew a long knife with which to get in close with.
Remembering her fight with Izadora all those weeks ago, Alora waved her arms around quickly to summon a bubble of light to engulf her, before quickly following it up with an explosive flash that thundered all around her like a flashbang grenade, while leaving her unharmed.
As the light dissipated, she deftly avoided the blind lunge from the temporarily blinded Regulator, before jamming her spear into his stomach, using her reach advantage to dodge the desperate swipes he sent her way.
“Garrash!” Alora spoke a quick cantrip, using her affinity with life magic to channel poison through the top of her spear. Her already-weakened attacker quickly slumped to the ground as the debilitating effects took hold, but before Alora could pull her spear back, she was hit by a spell that came from above, disrupting her magic and causing her magical spear and armour to disappear.
‘Damn! It’s that mage above me!’ Alora cursed to herself as she quickly ran underneath one of the balconies, as the turrets chased after her with gunfire. ‘You want to hide in the shadows like a coward? I’ve got something to fix that!’
Quickly making sure there weren’t any immediate threats around, Alora quickly rummaged through her pockets for a wand of white crystal she had prepared about a year ago that still had a few charges. Casting quickly, she levelled it towards the ceiling and prayed to all the gods that she was aiming it at where the enemy mage was hiding,
“Glitasha!”
A spray of shining, sparkling particles of light shot out of her wand, puffing out to cover a good half of the ceiling, and as they began to fall to the floor and latch on to the people below, Alora spotted a huddled form by one of the rafters.
‘Got you!’ She thought with satisfaction.
“Ilthax! Get out of there!” The voice over the speakers warned, presumably the name of her target, but it was too late…
“Solaris!” Alora yelled, throwing her palms out in a thrust as a great javelin of light shot out of her palms. The enemy mage had barely moved before it impaled their centre of mass, sending what must have been a fireball spell way off target which blasted apart a huge, gaping hole in the back wall.
The invisible form of the glitterdust-covered mage slowly began to materialise as the blue-furred, ape-like Regulator clutched at their chest in pain, with wide eyes of disbelief at the spear of hard light that had gone right through their torso. As their flight spell dissipated, their lifeless body fell three stories from the rafters to slam down on the ground floor below.
“Nice one Alora!” the Eladrie heard the voice call from behind her as Nika came up next to her, the Kizun bleeding from a cut on her face. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. But we need to find them now!” Alora frantically told them as she took in the sheer state of chaos around them. Many broken bodies lay amongst the carnage, and though the Eladrie knew some would likely be still alive at the end of the night, she knew that many would not.
“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Nika agreed with a grim expression.
*****
First/Previous
Looks like Jack, Nika and Alora are holding on for now! But how long can they keep it up?
Don't forget to check out The Galactic High Info Sheet! If you want to remind yourself of certain characters and factions. One new chapter a week can seem like a while! Don't forget! You all have the ability to leave comments and notes to the entries, which I encourage you to do!
I am now on Royal Road! I would appreciate your support in getting myself off the ground there with your lovely comments, reviews and likes!
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Don't forget to join the discussion with us on Discord, and consider checking me out on Youtube if you haven't already! Until next week, it's goodbye for now!

There was a thread earlier today about people quitting because of BS deaths and I, like some others, have a Powershell script to backup Saves for such a scenario. I put my script in a comment but thought maybe some people would like a full post on how this is achieved.
PS: Someone mentioned wanting to give me a Reddit award for my comment, but obviously awards are gone. So instead, maybe consider following me on Twitch, JawKneePlays. Thanks
I took this Backup Script from someone else and modified it, but I can't remember who the original author is to credit them.
Pre-Warning: Do this at your own risk. I WILL NOT take responsibility for any issues this causes nor will I fix individual issues. If there are questions on what the script is doing etc, then I'm happy to answer.

1. Create the Powershell script file (We're using Powershell ISE because everyone will have it installed with Windows)
   1. Open Powershell ISE
   2. Copy the SCRIPT BLOCK below and paste this into the ISE (SCROLL DOWN THIS POST)
   3. Modify these variables to suit you
      1. $SourcePath = "C:\Users\$user\Zomboid\Saves"
      2. $BkupVolumeLabel = "Games"
      3. $RetentionDays = 2
   4. Save the file and name it whatever you want and where you want
      1. Mine is: "D:\Documents\WindowsPowerShell\Scripts\BACKUP_SCRIPTS\ProjectZomboid_Backup.ps1"
      2. NOT REQUIRED BUT: If you don't have a "*\Documents\WindowsPowerShell\" directory and want one, follow this to create a Powershell profile.
2. Create the Scheduled Task
   1. Open Task Scheduler
   2. Right Click the "Task Scheduler Library" folder and Select "New Task"
      1. In the General tab, give the Task a Name
      2. In the Triggers tab, Select "New" and configure the Schedule how you see fit
      3. In the Actions tab, Select "New"
      4. Select "OK" and you're ready to run the task to test it works
3. Restoring the Files
   1. This is a simple Delete the current folder and replace it with your backup folder
   2. If you're afraid of losing your data, I would recommend renaming the current folder from "saves" to "saves.old" and then copying your backup up folder. That way you can delete the backup if it's not what you want or it fails and you can go back to the previous state by renaming the folder back to "saves". It's just worth doing once or twice before you commit to using the backup files
4. That should be everything covered. If anyone notices an issue with the write up, or has any suggestions for myself or others, chime in!

SCRIPT BLOCK (COPY EVERYTHING BELOW THIS LINE INTO YOUR ISE AND SAVE IT AS A ".PS1" FILE) <#
This script takes a backup copy of an entire folder and puts it on a dedicated backup drive.
It is recommended to use an external hard drive for this backup.
To correctly use this script, be sure that you format each backup drive with the $BkupVolumeLabel keyword in the Volume Label.
To run the script automatically:
Schedule a task to run program powershell.exe with the argument:
-executionpolicy Bypass -file "[insert path to script file here]"
Schedule to run as often as you would like to make a backup.
Change $user below to your PC user name (look at the directory if you don't know)

>

$SourcePath = "C:\Users\$user\Zomboid\Saves"
$BkupVolumeLabel = "Games"
$RetentionDays = 2

# I WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE!

$Date = Get-Date -Format "yyyy MMM dd hhmm tt"
$BackupDrives = (Get-Volume Where-Object {$_.FileSystemLabel -like "*$BkupVolumeLabel*"}).DriveLetter
ForEach ($Drive in $BackupDrives) {
$Letter = "$Drive" + ":\"
$Destination = "$Letter" + (Get-Item -Path $SourcePath).Parent.Name + "\" + (Get-Item -Path $SourcePath).Name
IF (-not (Test-Path -Path $Destination)) {
New-Item -Path $Destination -ItemType Directory
}
Copy-Item -Path $SourcePath -Destination "$Destination\$date" -Recurse
Get-ChildItem -Path $Destination Where-Object {$_.CreationTime -lt ((Get-Date).AddDays( - $RetentionDays))} Remove-Item -Force -Recurse
}

$Error > C:\users\public\desktop\BackupErrors.txt #Remove leading # if you need error information for failed backups.

Last week on Thursday, I had three wisdom teeth removed at the age of 35. Everything went well, and I had practically no pain and only minimal swelling. The only issue started Saturday afternoon, when I started experience some extremely unpleasant GI symptoms. I went to a local urgent care office Sunday evening, where the doctor concluded that my issues were likely caused by the 3x daily amoxicillin I had been prescribed post-surgery. he advised me to discontinue the amoxicillin and start taking probiotics.
I called the oral surgeon's office to follow up and let them know that I had discontinued the amoxicillin. I was a little bit concerned about infection in one socket, as it was the one that held the tooth that had been causing me issues in the first place and seemed to be a little swollen. The office decided to schedule me for a post-op just to check for any infection.
There's a chance that my oral surgeon will want to put me back on antibiotics, but the experience I had after this recent round of amoxicillin was just horrific. I can't go through that again. I want to advocate for myself, but I don't know what my options are. Is there anything that would be easier on my terrible digestive system? Thank you so much.

I’m aware that this is unconventional. Believe me, I’ve tried conventional – it didn’t end well for anyone. I require a certain open mindedness that I’m hoping I might find here, but more importantly, I need my future husband to know the rules. Meet-cutes are well and good on the screen, but they don’t guarantee a partner’s ability to follow basic instructions. That was my mistake the first time.
So, begging your pardon for my bluntness, I’m going to be clear about my requirements. Please read carefully – if you can’t meet them, there’s no point in going any further.

• Must want children. At least one child, anyway. I’m open to the idea of more, but one is an absolute must.
• Must be in it for the long haul. Until our child turns eighteen, to be precise. I understand that level of commitment is a daunting prospect, particularly when we have not yet met. After our child is born, you are welcome to ignore me, if you please, or take your pleasure elsewhere – though I will warn you that it might be difficult to come by. But you will live under my roof until our child is an adult.
• Homebody preferred. It will make the next two decades easier on you.
• Must have impeccable manners. I will provide a manual outlining the required etiquette, but you must at least have a grasp of basic courtesy to begin with. If you let your tongue run away with you, or don’t bother to wish your neighbours a good morning when you pass them in the street, stop reading – this is not the opportunity for you. Seriously.

This is the part where I should talk about myself, but let’s face it, this is hardly a romantic proposal. I require commitment up-front and there’s no guarantee that, once we do meet, we’ll really even like each other. If we do? Fantastic! It’ll help the years fly by. If we don’t, you’ll still have the main prize – years of rent-free, expenses-free living at The Old Oak Hotel.
A sanctuary has stood in this spot in one form or another since before the ley lines. During its tenure, it has been flooded, put to the flame, and pounded into dust. Time and again, it has been reimagined and rebuilt. Most of the current building dates back to Victoria’s reign, though the oldest parts were constructed in the 13^th century. At the very bottom of the garden, cut into the surrounding hills, there is a cave bearing handprints of red ochre.
There has always been an Edwards at the hotel, though of course we haven’t always gone by that name. You would think a family so tied to one place would do a better job of keeping records, but no one is certain of our origins. Perhaps it was a cosmic bargain, or perhaps mere luck – whether good or bad, I have never been able to decide. Either way, our presence is required. Throughout our spotty past, there’s a story here and there of an Edwards deserting their post, and it always coincides with a particularly brutal period of history.
I inherited the position five years ago. At midnight on my eighteenth birthday, my parents took their already-packed suitcases and left. I don’t blame them for their abandonment; I intend to one day do the same thing to my – or, hopefully, our – child.
They send me postcards and photos from time-to-time, always smiling on sunny beaches. Money isn’t a concern for them. That’s part of whatever mysterious deal our ancestors made – when a caretaker leaves in good-standing, they will never want for anything again. They could travel the world for the rest of their lives, always sleeping in the softest sheets and dining in the finest restaurants, and never find their pockets empty.
Keep this point in mind, for if you can meet my requirements, you will share my good fortune.
And what must we do in return? I can all but hear you scream the question. Why, very little. The presence of an Edwards ensures that the guests can’t stray from the hotel grounds. Most of our guests are live-in residents, though we do get the occasional walk-in. Where they come from, I don’t know, for we are not visible to most people who stumble upon our lonely corner of the world. I’ve come to believe the hotel chooses to reveal itself when its lacking entertainment, or to fill a need.
Jimmy, my first husband, was one such guest.
For the most part, the guests are harmless. They’ll give you a little fright from time-to-time, popping out from a wall or turning your bathwater into blood, but I find it hard to hold it against them. I’ve found twenty-three years here dreary; I can’t imagine how bored I would be after five hundred.
There are a few exceptions you should be aware of:

• Eric. Our resident serial murderer. He claims to have been Jack the Ripper while he still drew breath, but I think he’s just a blowhard. He knows better than to harm an Edwards, but I’m afraid spouses are fair game. Years ago, my grandmother managed to confine him to the fourth floor, so you will be perfectly safe from him as long as you never set foot there. Occasionally, the lift will stop on that floor even though you haven’t pressed the button for it. Do not get out. Even if the lift appears to be on fire or starts filling with murky water. Wait for the doors to close again, then go to another floor. It should only take a few hours.
• The Thing in the Cellar. I don’t know what It is; no one ever has. We only know It eats rats and must be fed once a day. If I’m ever ill or incapacitated, this task will fall to you. Harvest the rats from the traps in the garden, then stand at the cellar door and throw them down the stairs. Do not walk down the stairs and do not forget to feed It. You don’t want to be the first person to see Its’ face.
• Mrs Jones. Old fashioned and a stickler for manners, she’s the reason I’m advertising for a husband rather than a boyfriend. She won’t abide a couple living in sin under the same roof as her. Really, though, she’s a sweet old thing. Full of stories about the war and always ready to help if I get stuck on a recipe. I don’t blame her for what happened with Jimmy at all. I’d warned him enough times.

Guests aside, there are other rules you will need to follow to ensure a safe, satisfactory stay at The Old Oak Hotel. They are listed in a book that has been re-penned many times over the centuries. If you choose to accept this opportunity, I will insist that you read it until you can recite the pages word-for-word.
However, there are some rules so critical for your survival that I feel compelled to list them here:

• With the exception of the fourth floor, you are welcome to roam the hotel and its grounds as you please. But you must never set foot outside of our land – not until our child is old enough to fulfil their duties. If I were to do so, it would unleash pandemonium – plague, peril, perhaps another world war. I’m afraid you would be less crucial to the fate of the world, but it would certainly be a personal disaster.
• Never look in the mirrors in room 33.
• I’ve touched this point already, but it bears repeating: never be rude to Mrs Jones.

Failure to observe that last rule is what got Jimmy.
She doted on him. I think he reminded her of her long-dead son, for she pampered him as if he were one of her own. Each morning, she had breakfast ready for him before I had so much as opened my eyes, and she developed a habit of trailing along after him, complimenting his skill as he oiled rusted hinges or set a crooked picture straight.
At first, Jimmy basked in the attention. But by the end of his second month, he was growing bored of Mrs Jones, me, and the hotel itself. We pride ourselves on our facilities. If you need more activity than a turn around the garden, we have a lovely indoor pool – it freezes over every now and then, but most of the time it’s perfectly usable. Our library is unmatched. Although the room is cramped, it has every book imaginable; you only need to think of a particular title, and it will appear on one of the shelves. And now that I’ve dragged us kicking and screaming into the 21^st century, we have a wide array of streaming services.
It wasn’t enough for Jimmy. He wanted to go out – eat in a restaurant, watch a film in the cinema, see any faces other than the ones he was surrounded by every day. He began having a drink each evening. One drink turned into several, and after a few weeks, the bar became his permanent residence between dusk and midnight.
He wasn’t the only one getting bored. I had been thrilled when he first arrived; ecstatic when he agreed to stay. How marvellous to feel real flesh beneath my fingers after five years of only the dead for company. What a relief to have some assistance in the many tasks required to keep the hotel running as it should.
The more he drank, the less inclined he was to help – or even spend time in my company. He no longer visited my bed, choosing a room for himself on the opposite end of the floor. When our paths did cross, at best he would ignore me. At worst, he would nitpick or outright rail against me, blaming me for his captivity.
Still, I made an effort to be present whenever he frequented the bar. As lovely as Mrs Jones can be, she does have a tendency to nag. Before and after her death, she was close to teetotal, only consenting to take a single sherry at Christmas, and drinking outside of special occasions is something of a bugbear of hers.
“Think of your health, dear,” she would tell Jimmy brusquely. “You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”
Or, “How about we switch to a nice apple juice now? You’ve had quite enough to drink for one night.”
Most of the time, Jimmy managed to pull himself together enough to flash a charming smile and distract her with a compliment about her latest meal. But after one drink too many, I’d noticed him gritting his teeth and just barely managing to hold his tongue.
It was better if I was present. Playing the doting wife, I insisted on pouring his drinks, watering them down out of his sight. When Mrs Jones’s nagging bordered on relentless, I could always distract her with a game of gin rummy.
On his final day, I was running behind. The ghoul on the second floor – usually the least demanding of our guests – had come down with some dreadful illness, or else decided he wanted to inconvenience me. Either way, I had woken that morning to the foulest stench I had ever experienced. I followed it to his room and found every surface covered in putrid green-blank gunge, its consistency somewhere between mucus and vomit.
All day I scrubbed, taking only brief breaks to step outside before I fainted. By the time the room was restored to a passable state, and I had filled several bin bags to bursting with filthy rags, it was already deep into the night. Mindful of the time, I paused only long enough to wash the streaks of muck from my arms and face before racing to the bar.
I arrived just in time to hear Jimmy’s last words. After he spat them at Mrs Jones, she only stared for a small eternity, her mouth frozen in the motherly smile she wore whenever she scolded him.
Then, like melted wax, her face began to shift.
I shouted at Jimmy to run, but he didn’t need to be told. Before the words left my mouth, he leapt from his barstool and streaked through the door. Mrs Jones followed him seconds later. Her lips were already peeling back to reveal rows upon rows of long, wickedly sharp fangs, while claws sprouted from beneath her lace-edged cuffs.
I sprinted after them, but Jimmy was fuelled by fear and Mrs Jones by whatever force propels the Mrs Joneses of the world. I followed the screeching to the lobby. Breathless, I arrived to see he had arrived within mere feet of the entrance before Mrs Jones grabbed him.
Claws wrapped around his throat, she lifted him into the air. As I watched, her jaw unhinged, the lower part dropping so that it was nearly level with her chest.
That sight drove all the sense out of my head. Forgetting every rule my parents had ever drilled into me, I lunged at her.
She batted me away as though I weighed no more than a fly.
I crashed into the reception desk, the breath bursting from my lungs in a great woosh. I was certain that I would die, for no amount of effort seemed to force air back into my aching chest. At last, as my vision began to dim, I managed to take a small gulp – then another, and another, until I was able to draw myself together enough to regain my feet.
By that time, Mrs Jones had nearly finished her dinner. Jimmy’s chest was splayed open, muscle and shattered ribs protruding every which way from his flesh, and she was devouring the last few bites of his heart.
His head was angled towards me. The light had winked out from his eyes, but they still held his final terror – and an accusation which, I was quite certain, was directed at me. I would like to say I felt only horror, but I couldn’t help my sudden jolt of irritation. How may times had I told him to mind his manners?
Mrs Jones gulped, the sound thick and wet in her gullet, and dropped what remained of Jimmy to the floor.
Then she turned to me.
Here’s another rule for you, one which I hope you never have cause to use: never interfere with a kill.
The Mrs Jones who used to kiss my grazed knees, who argued with my mother for the right to read me bedtime stories, was no longer at the wheel. No amount of pleading or reasoning would move her.
I could only run.
Spinning around, I vaulted over the reception desk and raced for the office behind it. If Jimmy had not been out of his mind with fear and booze, he might have remembered the rules and survived; it was one of several staff-only rooms throughout the hotel warded to keep out unwanted guests.
Just ten steps from desk to door, yet it was the longest journey of my life. My hard-won breath burned my throat; my heart pounded in my ears, deafening me to all other sounds than Mrs Jones’s heavy, pounding footsteps.
Grasping the handle, her hot, copper-tanged breath was on my neck. Fire exploded in my flesh as she raked her claws down my back. A step further away, and I wouldn’t have made it; the pain would have been too great. But I managed to throw myself into the office and slam the door before crumpling to the ground.
Before I passed out, I heard her grunting and shrieking outside, furious that she couldn’t get in.
Three days I spent in the office, emerging only to feed The Thing in the Cellar before scurrying back to my hiding place. Whenever I left, I tried not to look at the mangled heap that used to be Jimmy. There was no avoiding the smell, though.
With no small difficulty, and the help of a first aid kit, I managed to treat and bandage the wounds on my back. They bled sluggishly all throughout the first day, but thankfully didn’t fester.
On the morning of the fourth day, there was a tentative knock on the door followed by the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. I waited until they had disappeared down the corridor before cracking the door open. On the floor was a freshly baked Victoria sponge and a beautifully written note of apology.
It took every ounce of courage I possessed, but that evening I forced myself to go to the dining room. Mrs Jones was waiting for me, her eyes red-rimmed, a steaming cottage pie on the table. I tried not to flinch as she took my hand, re-iterating the apology she had already delivered in writing.
The next morning, she helped me clean Jimmy up.
We treated each other cautiously for a while, but eventually we got back to playing gin rummy again. When the scars on my back twinge, as they sometimes do, she helps me rub a soothing ointment into them. Even though I’ve told her it’s not necessary, she apologises every time.
So, you’ve heard my story and you have my proposal. If you think you could be the man for me, I invite you to visit. You will need to drink a cup of ram’s blood (a pinch of nutmeg makes it a little more tolerable) and light a black candle before bedtime. When you next wake, you will find yourself at our gates. As travel arrangements go, it’s hardly the Orient Express, but it beats the airfare.
If you have read this without flinching, if you can stomach the journey to get here, if you walk up to our door and find the nerve to open it, I have one more instruction for you.
Just as you enter, look to your right. You will see a deep brown stain on the lobby carpet. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but it just won’t come out. Perhaps that’s for the best. It’s a good reminder of what will happen to you should you call Mrs Jones a “nosy old bat”.
And when you run into Jimmy – as you will, for he still likes hanging around the bar in the evening, his silvery wounds glistening as though they had just been inflicted – don’t let him convince you he was some sort of victim.
He knew the rules.

So I (19M) am on holiday abroad together with my GF (19F) of 7 months, and her family (parents, sister, and sister’s BF). They have a holiday home here that we are staying at, and the plan is/was(?) for us to stay here for two weeks.
We arrived here three days ago, and the thing that makes me want to leave happened on our second day here, so this trip has started of really well. It’s kind of gross just so you’re warned. Anyway, we had all gone out for dinner together and my GF suggested that I tried a dish I’d never tried before that’s quite specific for the country we’re in, and I thought why the hell not, so I did. What I , stupid as I am, didn’t know but probably should have, was that there was a risk that I would be allergic to it. So shortly after I had begun eating I started to feel anxious and a bit itchy. I know I should have taken it seriously, but the thing is that I’m always a bit nervous around my GF’s family and when I eat out, so I ignored it. Until I felt like my throat started to swell and it got harder to breathe.
I don’t know how I was thinking, I kind of panicked and we have already established that I’m stupid, but I felt I had to get away from the table as fast as possible because I didn’t want to cause a scene. And I still sort of hoped this was just a panic attack. So I stood up and took a step or two, and I remember being really dizzy before it got all black. The rest is a bit blurry, but I woke up on the ground with everyone leaning over me. I could barely breathe, my head and nose hurt, and there was blood everywhere. So much for not causing a scene. My GF’s dad gave me my epipen and inhaler, so my breathing improved a bit. Then I got the worse pain in my stomach and felt really sick, but before I could ask for something to throw up in, I vomited all over myself. Some time after that the ambulance arrived, and it was decided that my GF’s mum would accompany me in the ambulance, while the others were to met us at the hospital. In the ambulance the pain in my stomach got even worse, and I realised I had to go to the toilet, like urgently. But as I was stuck in a fucking ambulance that wasn’t possible. I tried very hard not to, but of course, like this couldn’t get any worse, I ended up shitting myself in front of my GF’s mum. And unfortunately, I wasn’t unwell enough to not find that to be a horrible experience. I have no idea if she’s told my GF about this, but I sure as hell hope she hasn’t.
Anyway, when we got to hospital I was glued up, cleaned up, and given loads of medicines. I needed to stay the night and my GF decided to stay with me even though I told her she didn’t have to. I was discharged the next day, which was yesterday, and I was told I most likely have a concussion and to take it easy for a couple of days. When we got back to the house, I was so tired I spent most of the day just sleeping.
I’m still tired today, but I feel a bit better than yesterday. At least physically, because I’m so fucking embarrassed about what happened, and I feel stupid that it happened in the first place. So I just wanted to be alone today, so when my GF wanted to stay in with me, I practically forced her to tag along her parents on some outing.
It’s not like they haven’t been nice to me, they have, like excessively so, but I can’t stop thinking they are just pretending and that they are actually disgusted by me. Because I mean why shouldn’t they be, I am, it was fucking gross. Especially my GF, I can’t see how she ever can be attracted to me again. We obviously haven’t had sex since it happened, but we haven’t really cuddled like we use to either, so I don’t know.
To make things even worse, I’m currently ugly as fuck. My nose is swollen from the fall, I have scrapes on my nose and forehead, and a cut on my forehead and scalps. And on top of that, due to the stupid cut I haven’t been allowed to wash my hair and won’t be able to do so for at least three more days, so I feel super fresh.
I know it’s probably childish, but I feel fucking miserable, and I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to go home. I mean, I can barely look my GF in the eyes let alone her family, so sticking around here for 11 more days feel like torture. And as it is now, I’m not good company either. So WIBTA if I were to cut the trip short and just went home?
Now it probably doesn’t matter if I would be an AH for going home, because my GF will likely dump me when we get home anyway. But on the off chance that she doesn’t want to break up with me, I don’t want to ruin things more than I already have by being an AH and going home if that is an AH-thing to do.
Also, if I were to leave what reason could I give my GF that isn’t an AH-reason, because I can absolutely not tell her that I’m so fucking ashamed of myself that I cannot stand to be around her or her family, that would just be too pathetic and surely the end of out relationship. Like I know it’s excessive, but I seriously (not really) wish I would have just died instead of dealing with this.

Hi! its my first time ever posting and this is my last resort, im so worried about my dog. Earlier when i woke up, and pet her i noticed her ear is so floppy and when i lift it it was swollen like theres liquid inside and i got so scared and googled it and from what it says it is an aural hematoma.. please i know the importance of professional care and i would have bring my dog at a vet if only i have the money cause i love her to death. what im saying is can you give me tips that i can do to reduce the swelling or steps to treat it if possible.. i am poor, and i dont want to burden my mom by asking her money for a drain or a vet visit we are so poor that we only eat what food is left from the day before. i just need some tips please please.. if there is wrong grammar im sorry, i hope you can understand it T^T english is not my first language

I'm a 23 Male of 186cm height, 126KG, non-smoker, currently on a blend of eye drops, Ibuprofen and Carbamazepine pills. I have no major medical history prior to this.
I have been experiencing eye fatigue, and eventually eye pain for the past week. This week, the pain crept into my temple and jaw, and I went to a doctor. The doctor is someone close to me, and I was able to get a CT scan of my head ahead of normal procedures. The following doctor couldn't comfirm what kind of problems I had, but based on my area of pain and eye fatigue, the doctor prescribed me some eye drops, ibuprofen and Carbamazepine pills.
It's been 3 days since I started the medicine, and the pain hasn't really gone away, and I couldn't do my daily task without 400mg of ibuprofen every 8 hours. Another strange thing is that everything I hear seems to be deeper, their tone lowered by a note, music's doesn't sound out of tune, my friends' voice sounds deeper, and everything just doesn't sound right.
Can the medication I'm taking cause hearing issue, or is it unrelated and more likely to be a symptom of this illness I have?

I have been getting regular Denosumab shots (Xgeva) for the 4 years since diagnosis. My oncologist recommended an excellent dentist that specialized in Myeloma patients on this drug and, so far, I get cleanings every 6 months, an exam of what's happening, and he has largely been very hands off. If I'm not in pain, or it isn't a glaring problem, he has preferred to watch and wait. Perfect.
That dentist has brought a younger guy into the practice to take over as he prepares to retire. Yesterday after a rough cleaning, he 'found' a patch of decay on a tooth with an old onlay and, without looking at x-rays of my teeth or jaw (I have lytic lesions on my jaw), said he needed to drill out that old dental work and replace with a crown. I reluctantly scheduled appointments to do just that starting in 2 weeks (their choice on timing not mine).
After a night of thinking about it, I called the dental office and said 'cancel those 2 appointments. Schedule me with the older dentist the day before my next scheduled Xgeva shot (which is early July, so 6 weeks out). He and I will discuss then if the procedure is necessary, and if I will get the shot the next day.'
The receptionist was reluctant but I was insistent. I did not say that the young guy struck me as 'winging it' when it came to my jaw (what if he drills it all out and discovers not enough tooth left to hold a crown?), nor did I say I felt like it was a money grab (I believe dentists can be greedy and over treat when they get a patient they suspect is compliant and financially able to fund a lot of work). I just want the guy with the experience who will check all the data before making a single hole in my mouth and possibly causing me yet another summer of expensive pain.
Am I being ridiculous? I have seen some real scary things on here about necrosis of the jaw and I want to make sure I check all the boxes before I head down a dental path that might end in permanent damage. And why does forcefully (but kindly) self advocating make other people so uncomfortable?

So this boy and I have recently started dating and when I tell you that he is very attractive, I mean beyond gorgeous. He is absolutely stunning in every way possible. He has perfect bone structure, jaw line, full lips, green intense eyes, full eyebrows, good body, a soothing voice, and in general a very attractive energy around him. He is also kind and intelligent. Thus I fell for him quite instantly. And all of those things have awaken in me very deep insecurities that I have always had. And since we are both boys, I compare myself a lot to him.
There are moments in my life when I feel very confident in how I look. People give me compliments and well, since I am dating him after all, I do know that I am not the ugliest one out there. However, during these past few weeks, I just can't help but feel disgusted when I look in the mirror. I don't feel confident nor comfortable with my body and that feeling is enhanced when I am around him. Everytime we go out, every one stares at us, but I know very well that they are just staring at him. People stop him randomly on the street to ask for his number, random people in stores tell him he should model. He has also been with anyone he has had a crush on. No one has rejected him, ever. And although that raises my self esteem a little, knowing that a guy like that is into me (and he really is into me), It still also makes me feel very average, or even below it. I guess because of the fact that he could have anyone he wanted, my subconscious keeps telling me that I need to prove my worth somehow, to show that I am enough for him. And each time something happens; each time he gets spoken to or each time he's told he should model, a raging feeling of envy and insecurity grows inside of me. And it is not because of anything he does. He actually gives me a lot of reassurance, he does not engage with people flirting with him, and he always tells them proudly about me (he is the best). Yet I still feel awful.
One thing about him though, is that he hardly finds anyone attractive and whenever I see a pretty girl in public, I tell him. He usually replies with something along the lines of "meh she is kinda mid" or "I don't think she is pretty". And it might sound like the perfect thing you want your boyfriend to reply, but it is actually the opposite. I see these people that are waaaay more attractive than me and he says that they are "mid". I think he mainly likes me because of my personality and my heart, and don't get me wrong, that's beautiful. But that makes me feel less physically attractive myself. And it is so strange. Even reading what I am writing here makes me sound delusional and a pick-me, but it is how I feel.
And for those wondering, yes, I did talk to him about it. But I felt super weird because I didn't want to sound like I was fishing for compliments. I hate to talk about my insecurities because people then just tell me what I want to hear: that I am beautiful, that my insecurities are not true... and so on... and although I appreciate it, I feel like they only say it when I feel ugly or insecure and it therefore feels forced and insincere.
Jealousy is I think the worst feeling in the world and I don't know how to deal with this problem. Speaking with my bf about it didn't help that much either, cause it is MY problem and MY responsibility to deal with my insecurities. But I guess that with this I am wondering if there are people going through something similar?

This story has been gaining some small online traction over the past couple of days, and Russell Edwards has been namedropped again by Keith Bennett’s brother, Alan Bennett, on social media. I want people to be in no doubt about what Edwards did back in 2022, and I want to make sure that the following ranks near the top of Google searches too so that people can easily find information that discredits this complete and utter charlatan.
Header photo description and credits: Greater Manchester Police employing a drone in the excavation of the site searched for the remains of Keith Bennett on Saddleworth Moor, 2nd October 2022. Manchester Evening News

Who is Russell Edwards?

Edwards is a self-proclaimed “amateur detective”, who has for many years invested a lot of his own time and money in trying to get to the bottom of numerous infamous unsolved cases. He has claimed to have identified Jack the Ripper as a Polish barber named Aaron Kosminski, and wrote a book about his “findings” called “Naming Jack the Ripper” - which have since been called into question along with the credibility of both Edwards and the forensic scientist he collaborated with in regards to both Jack the Ripper and the Moors Murders, Jari Louhelainen.
Edwards also runs a Jack the Ripper guided walking tour in London. I won’t link to it because a) I don’t want to drive up clicks to it and b) the website contains a lot of misinformation as well as graphic autopsy images of Ripper victims without warning. I initially thought he had stopped doing these, but the most recent review listed on there was from January of this year.
He claimed to have started looking into Keith Bennett’s disappearance in 2015, but had been interested in the case since around the time the remains of another Moors Murders victim, Pauline Reade, were discovered in 1987.

The known facts of Keith Bennett’s disappearance and murder

Keith was walking to his grandmother’s house on the evening of 16th June 1964 when he was abducted by Ian Brady and Myra Hindley. According to their accounts, he was driven up to Saddleworth Moor and endured sexual assault before he was strangled to death and buried in a shallow grave. There is a detailed and extensive write-up on Brady’s and Hindley’s conflicting accounts linked here. Tragically, to this day Keith Bennett remains the only one of the couple’s victims whose remains were never recovered.
I would strongly encourage everybody to read these FAQs around the search for Keith too. I wrote these up a while ago, and Alan himself has been kind enough to contribute to them as well after the fact.

The 2022 “findings”

First off, here’s where exactly Edwards made his “discovery” in relation to where the other bodies were found. I should state that this area consists of plenty of gullies and peat soil. If you click on the 2022 Search on Saddleworth Moor flair, you‘ll see everything we discussed in this subreddit as the search was being carried out. But I will recap what happened anyway.
In a statement published on 30th September 2022, GMP Force Review Officer Martin Bottomley said:
“At around 11.25am on Thursday 29th September 2022, Greater Manchester Police was contacted by the representative of an author who has been researching the murder of Keith Bennett, a victim of Ian Brady and Myra Hindley. Following direct contact with the author, we were informed that he had discovered what he believes are potential human remains in a remote location on the Moors and he agreed to meet with officers yesterday afternoon to elaborate on his find and direct us to a site of interest.
“The site was assessed late last night and, this morning, specialist officers have begun initial exploration activity. We are in the very early stages of assessing the information which has been brought to our attention but have made the decision to act on it in line with a normal response to a report of this kind.”
It was first reported in the Daily Mail that a “skull” had been found, although the same article then went on to say that “detectives are preparing to exhume a particular area where suspected skeletal remains have been found including what experts believe to be a child’s upper jaw with a full set of teeth”. It was also reported that a small piece of blue and white striped material, and potential samples of body tissue (although this was later discredited as a probable mixture of vegetation and muddy water), had been found.
Edwards had claimed he and his team had conducted extensive soil analysis of the area, which they had discovered 4 weeks before. There were high levels of calcium, which can indicate the presence of human remains (but the team did not mention that it also indicates the presence of limestone or another high calcium natural material). Describing the dig, he said “the smell hit me about 2ft down. Like a sewer, like ammonia. I worked as a gravedigger when I was 19. It hits you, that smell of death. It is distinctive.”
Alan Bennett later stated that the smell was probably methane - of which there are pockets containing it across the moor. Edwards also falsely stated that everything was left in situ - more on that in the paragraph after the next one.
On Saturday 1st October, Greater Manchester Police issued a statement saying that “no identifiable human remains have been found” - despite what several tabloid and local newspapers had been reporting. It was confirmed that drones were being used in the search on the 2nd October, and a statement issued by GMP later that day confirmed that excavation of the site will continue for the foreseeable future.
Edwards and members of his team started posting on Facebook and declaring that Keith Bennett had already been found. On 2nd October, Jari Louhelainen, a Senior Lecturer in Molecular Biology at Liverpool John Moores University and a member of Edwards’ team, posted a photo of himself analysing what he suspected was a “bunch of hair” from the dig site. He later confirmed in the comments of his post (after being called out for posting it in the first place) that it was a “look-a-like plant material”.
On 4th October, Detective Chief Inspector Cheryl Hughes, of GMP’s Force Review Unit, said: “Forensic Archaeologists and Forensic Anthropologists have now completed a methodical archaeological excavation and examination of the area previously dug and refilled by the member of the public. No bones, fabric or items of interest were recovered from the soil.
“These accredited and certified forensic experts are now continuing with a methodical and controlled excavation of the area immediately surrounding the original site to provide a higher level of assurance of the presence or absence of any items of interest. Further soil samples have been taken for analysis, but at this time there is no visible evidence to suggest the presence of human remains. The scene examination is ongoing.
“A report of possible human remains is always treated with seriousness. As such, we have deployed police search advisors who can support our scenes of crimes officers – this will result in more visible and high profile tactics, such as officers walking in lines to identify any potential sites of focus.
“GMP is committed to providing Keith’s family with answers following this report, both from the physical excavation and subsequent analysis of samples. This will take some time but we will keep the family updated at every stage and request that their privacy is respected.
“We have seen the outpouring of support since this news broke so know how our communities feel about this case but we are asking members of the public not to travel to the area and can assure them that we will provide timely and appropriate updates.”
At 2pm on 7th October 2022, Greater Manchester Police announced that they had closed the scene on Saddleworth Moor after finding no evidence to indicate the presence of human remains. “At this time, there is no evidence of the presence of human remains.”
Assistant Chief Constable Sarah Jackson, portfolio holder for crime, said: “We have always said that we would respond, in a timely and appropriate manner, to any credible information which may lead us towards finding Keith. Our actions in the last week or so are a highly visible example of what that response looks like, with the force utilising the knowledge and skills of accredited experts, specialist officers and staff. It is these accredited experts and specialists who have brought us to a position from where we can say that, despite a thorough search of the scene and ongoing analysis of samples taken both by ourselves and a third party, there is currently no evidence of the presence of human remains at, or surrounding, the identified site on Saddleworth Moor. However, I want to make it clear that our investigation to find answers for Keith’s family is not over.
“We understand how our communities in Greater Manchester feel about this case, the renewed interest in it and the shared desire to find Keith. Much of Saddleworth Moor is private land so we would ask that members of the public, in the first instance, report any perceived intelligence to their local police service. The discovery of suspected human remains must be reported immediately to enable the use of specialist resources to investigate appropriately.”
Senior Investigating Officer Detective Chief Inspector Cheryl Hughes said: “The investigation into Keith’s disappearance and murder has remained open since 1964 and it will not be closed until we have found the answers his family have deserved for so many years. We are thankful for their continued support of our ongoing enquiries. This has been a distressing time for them and we ask that their privacy is respected.
“We understand the confusion which may have been caused to Keith’s family and communities across Greater Manchester by reports to the contrary. We hope that by giving this detailed update today, we provide reassurance that GMP are committed to finding accurate answers for Keith’s family.
“In response to the report made on Thursday 29 September 2022, officers met with the member of the public who later provided us with samples and copies of the photographs he had taken. He also took officers to the location from which he had obtained these and provided grid references.
“In the days since, independent accredited forensic archaeologists and certified forensic anthropologists, together with GMP’s Crime Scene Investigators, have completed a methodical forensic archaeological excavation and examination of the identified area and beyond. An accredited forensic geologist also took a number of soil samples – analysis of which is ongoing.
“The items given to us by the member of the public have been examined by a forensic scientist and though this hasn’t yet indicated the presence of human remains – more analysis is required. With regards to the photograph, we have sought the assistance of a forensic botanist. We are now utilising the knowledge and skills of a forensic image expert to put a standard anthropological measurement to the object to assist with identification. At this stage, the indications are that it would be considerably smaller than a juvenile jaw and it cannot be ruled out that it is plant-based.
“The excavation and examination at the site is complete and, to reiterate, we have found no evidence that this is the burial location of Keith Bennett.”

Aftermath

It was discovered that two of Edwards’ team members, Lesley Dunlop (a geologist) and Dawn Keen (a forensic archaeologist) were not accredited professionals in their respective fields. Alan Bennett clarified in a Facebook post on 5th November 2022, in reference to Keen:
“Any professional archaeologist would ask for a scale in any pictures or video taken at a scene [in reference to the fact that police confirmed the object found was too small to be a juvenile jaw], that was not the case here and the reason police had to call in a photographic specialist to determine the scale of the supposed jawbone..which turns out to be too small for a child from what I've been told so far and, of course couldn't be found anyway and could only have been vegetation if anything at all.”
I am not entirely sure what the “blue and white striped fabric” turned out to be - I assume that nothing was found.
Alan has since posted evidence that Russell Edwards had been planning the “discovery of Keith’s remains” as part of a stunt to promote his upcoming book on the case - a book that Edwards has been radio-silent about since all of this controversy.
Edwards has refused to apologise to Keith’s family and despite being proven wrong, and him and his team being called out for the charlatans they are (with even him admitting that his own reputation is in tatters), as of December 2022 he stood by his actions and his claims that he believed he had found Keith’s body.
To my own understanding (though I do not speak on behalf of Alan Bennett or on behalf of anybody who was involved in this whole debacle, let me be clear), there has been complete radio-silence on news of Edwards’ book since this date.

35F; currently taking Prednisone 31 mg, Lamictal 35 mg, and Trileptal 1 mg. Non-smoker and non-drinker.
I've been on a high dose of Prednisone for 6 months now -- I started on 60 mg on Halloween and have now tapered down to 31 mg. I have an endocrinologist who oversees the taper.
I've started experiencing intermittent bone pain (spine, hips, teeth, skull, clavicle, ribs) and joint pain (knees, jaw joints). It tends to gets worse after the Prednisone wears off, an hour or two before I take it again. I recently had a DEXA scan, through which I found out that I have osteoporosis in my spine and osteopenia in my hips. However, my endocrinologist said that neither one causes pain; he couldn't offer me any suggestions for what to do.
What kind of doctor should I see to diagnose and treat the bone and joint pain? Rheumatologist? Orthopedist? Different endocrinologist? I'm concerned about arthritis or avascular necrosis induced by Prednisone.
In the meantime, I don't know how to treat the osteoporosis -- I don't tolerate bisphosphonates, since I'm bed-bound due to long Covid and thus can't sit up for a full hour after taking the medication. Is there a different option?

I'm suspected mainly for AxSpa but I have some peripheral involvement as well. I would generally consider it mild - a bit of pain and stiffness, only on a few occasions I had my finger joints red and swollen (and clearly small joints rather than dactilitis, although that happens too).
What worries me is that it feels like I'm losing some precision in my hands and fingers. At the beginning I noticed that only during flare ups and with very specific activities (like building Lego with my kids). But recently I have noticed that everyday I've had problems with using a computer mouse as previously as I used to, missing keyboard buttons or clicking then twice (and I've been a software developer for my whole life, I know how to use a mouse and a keyboard!). I don't have any other neurological symptoms and I've had a basic neurological exam recently and it didn't show any abnormalities (like reflexes and stuff).
Has anyone experienced this? Should I be worried? I'm still fighting for SpA diagnosis (we all know it really can be a fight). I dread thinking I'd have to now tell my doctor that something else is wrong with me. They already consider me a hypochondriac (cause you know, my blood tests are normal, which OBVIOUSLY mean that years of my working hip and back pain is anxiety; I just need to sleep more and eat better 😒).

Hi
I had tmj pain a few years ago (headaches, earaches, joint popping and ear closing, tinnitus, hyperacusis) My dentist said I was grinding my teeth at night so I worn a bruxxism mouthguard + regularly massaged my jaw and these symptoms pretty much faded for a few years. But after a while my mouthguard started disturbing my sleep so I stopped wearing it and didn't think about it again for some time. (I had other health issues at the same time)
Now since last year I've been having moments where my jaw slightly locks (or "pre-locks") along with rdm stuttering and gradual hyperacusis. Eajaw pain as well. Bruxxism or tmj didn't come to mind because I've got a lot of shit going on and believed it was related to something else. I do remember gently pulling my jaw back into place at some point a few months back (no popping).
Three days ago after massaging my right ear and yawning, my jaw felt slightly loose and painful on the right side. The opening is slightly reduced and my bite feels off. (upper and low teeth don't meet as they should). So I went to the dentists again. Had a x-ray and they told me there's nothing they can do because it's a joint/muscle issue and that I should actually go see a physiotherapist. (and that it would probably get better on it's own) My questions are :

1. Did the x-ray actually prove anything in regards to what's going on ?
2. It's been 4 days and Im getting anxious about letting my jaw in that position but I don't wanna cause more trouble by manipulating in the wrong way. Does it get worse the longer it goes on and is there a need for a manual reduction ? Or should I just try to relax the muscles/reduce the inflammation ?
3. I believe I faintly remember a few years ago my ex dentist holding my jaw while asking me to pull away (or pulling in). Is it dangerous to try to gently put your jaw back into place by yourself/do a manual reduction ? There's supposedly another technique with a big syringe/pencils, does anyone have experience with that ?
4. Should I put my mouthguard again every night ? Or could it make it worse ?
5. If I see the pt, is he supposed to start manipulating my jaw/joints without further imaging ?

Thank you guys

I was just returning back from another interview. It has been the third one this month.
I failed to make the cut yet again.
Life hasn’t been easy for an ex-soldier with the economic downturn currently underway.
The COVID pandemic had also wiped out all my savings.
So I was open to securing any job that would help me pay my bills.
I hadn’t eaten all day and just passed by a McDonalds. It was crowded and I thought to myself, ‘Let me just order a takeout’.
I could see a few vehicles waiting in front of me.
There was a guy in his motorcycle honking incessantly demanding the customer in front to keep it moving.
He was a tall man with long hair and clearly looked edgy and irritable. Both his arms were heavily tattooed. He stepped down from his bike and started to walk towards the car in front of him.
I couldn’t make out what he way saying but I could see the conversation was getting heated.
I got down from my car and walked towards the biker guy.
As I got closer, the biker banged on the hood of the car and was pointing his finger at the man threateningly.
The guy in the car was looking a little alarmed. He had a young boy seated next to him.
The woman working at the driveway counter appealed to the biker to maintain his cool. He would hear none of it.
She then proceeded to call the police and this made the biker more irate. He snatched the receiver from her and hit her face with it. She fell backwards and started bleeding from the nose.
The biker then proceeded to turn his gaze towards the man in the car. He opened the door and dragged the guy outside.
He drew his hand back to throw a punch at him.
I caught his arm from behind and kicked him hard in the shins. He yelped in pain and let go of the other man.
He then turned back angrily to take a look at me. He was wearing a black jacket with the name Kenny embossed in front.
I said, “Listen Kenny. I have had a really bad day. So you either stop this madness or I am going to break your bones.”
He snarled and threw a punch at me with all his might. I swerved to the right and ducked just in time, causing him to miss completely.
Next, he whipped out a switch blade from his pocket and lunged towards me with it. I side stepped him and counterattacked with a punch to his plexus. He went down on one knee.
I caught hold of his knife arm and ordered him to drop it.
“Drop the knife kenny!! This is your last warning”, I repeated.
He started to fidget with his other arm around his shoe. I realized he had another weapon hidden in his sock.
So before he could attempt anything else, I twisted his forearm and landed a crushing blow to his elbow. It snapped into two and he lay on the floor yelping in pain.
By this point, other people came forward to intervene and help with the situation.
As Kenny was being led away by the police, he kept staring at me with madness in his eyes.
“I am coming back for you. This is going to be the biggest regret of your life”, he yelled.
I didn’t care and started going back to my car.
Then the man who was threatened by Kenny came forward and shook my hand.
“Hi. I am Rupert. That is my son Henry”, he said.
I waved my hand at the boy and he waved back.
“I would like to thank you for what you did for me back there”, he said.
“You not only helped me maintain my dignity but also helped me save face in front of my son”, he continued.
“This means a lot to me as a dad” he said.
I nodded in acknowledgement not sure what I was to add to the conversation.
He then reluctantly asked,” Is there anything I can do to repay the favour? Please feel free to ask . Anything. I would be most grateful.”
I thought for a moment. I could see the man was wealthy.
“If it’s not too much of an ask, I would appreciate a job if available. If you feel that is difficult, no problem. Forget I asked. No worries.” I said.
He smiled back at me warmly. He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
“Please come to my office tomorrow. We can talk” he signed off.
From that moment on, I became the personal bodyguard and chaperone of his 8 year old son Henry. We immediately hit it off and became pals. I looked after all his son’s travelling arrangements.
We would also go to McDonalds every week for his favourite Burger and fries. I later learnt that his father was a very wealthy man who made most of his money during the dot com bubble.
I also became friends with the female employee at the driveway counter who had earlier been attacked by that biker punk Kenny.
Her name was Stella and it didn’t take very long for the two of us to start dating.
With a fulfilling job and a loving girlfriend by my side, my life was finally back on track. I couldn’t be happier.
And then one day - it all came crashing.
Henry and I as usual visited the McDonalds joint and I was surprised to see Stella missing at the counter.
I asked the staff about her and they said she hadn’t turned up today.
I thought that was weird. She had stayed over at my place and I saw her leave for work in the morning.
I tried calling her number but it was unreachable.
I dropped Henry at home and headed towards Stella’s apartment.
She had given me a spare key and I opened the door with it. Everything was in its place.
I tried her number again. It remained not reachable.
I decided to go back to my apartment to check if she might be there.
When I reached the door, I could see the lock had been smashed. The door was left slightly open.
I took out my side arm and slowly entered the apartment.
I could see a life size figure of Ronald McDonald the clown sitting on my sofa.
The famous mascot was sitting cross legged with one arm resting on the backrest. Just like how he likes to sit on benches outside McDonald outlets all across the world.
I was a little taken aback, but quickly switched on the lights to take a closer look.
As I moved closer, my knees buckled under my own weight.
It was Stella. She was the one who was dressed as the clown.
There were injury marks around her neck. She had been strangled to death.
I managed to call the cops while still reeling from the shock.
I also noticed her right hand which was resting on her thigh, was close fisted. When I pried it open, there was a crumpled piece of paper inside.
It read -
“She was really begging me for mercy.
Where was soldier boy when she needed him huh?
Boo Hoo….I’m Lovin It!!
I’m Lovin it!!
Signed Yours Kenny”
I could feel a surge of anger envelop me. And yet I lay there helpless.
Had it not been for the surveillance cameras at the entrance of my home, I would have been in jail by now.
The police could clearly see Kenny carrying Stella’s body and breaking into my apartment.
They put out a nationwide notice for Kenny and he’s been on the run ever since.
Even after 2 months following Stella’s death, the police were not any closer to catching the culprit.
But I did apprise Henry’s dad of the situation. His life was also at risk after considering what happened to my girlfriend.
But our collective worry was for Henry. We didn’t want to see him suffer for no fault of his.
So I started training Henry to take his own safety seriously. I devised multiple safeguards to keep him protected while being outdoors. Always ensured that I was personally there to drop and pick him up from school.
My boss appreciated all that I was doing for his son. He knew I had taken Stella’s death hard.
He was a generous and compassionate man and I liked working for him.
Although he did notice I wasn’t my usual cheery self anymore.
One day when I was waiting at the office, he tossed the keys of his new car at me.
“This should perk you up. Take her for a spin” he said.
“And also go pick Henry up from school”, he finished as he left for a meeting.
I got down to the parking lot, and there she was … waiting. The new Bugatti Chiron.
I opened the door and took the driver’s seat. The fresh smell of the leather upholstery was already lifting my spirits.
‘Boss was right! I am perking up’, I thought to myself.
I drove around the block and stopped by McDonalds to pick up the usual order for me and Henry.
I felt a tinge of sadness when I could no longer see Stella at the counter.
Anyways, I picked the order and started my way towards school.
As I went past the restaurant, I saw an old jeep parked by the side of the road. I didn’t think much of it at that moment.
When I reached Henry’s school, I parked the car a few feet away from the entrance. A couple of minutes later, I noticed the same jeep I saw at McDonalds go past me and park 20 mts in front.
I would have never given it a second glance had I not spotted it at the restaurant.
The jeep had 3 passengers. They looked like bikers with tattoos, beard and long hair.
And then there was Kenny standing behind a tree to avoid detection. But I spotted him.
He was gesturing towards them to get ready. I could see his Harley parked just a few feet away.
They were planning some kind of ambush.
The school bell rang and the children were already out on the streets.
I could see Henry at a distance in the courtyard. He was slowly making his way towards the gate.
I immediately called him on the phone and told him to go to the Principals office and stay there. I made it clear under no circumstances was he to venture out until I gave him the all clear. He understood.
He was safe as long as he was within the school’s premises.
The next thing to do was move to another location. The children were already pouring onto the streets, and the last thing I wanted was to see a child getting hurt.
I started the car and went past the jeep before taking the next turn. I kept driving.
Few moments later, the jeep caught up with me and the driver violently swerved towards the left causing me to go off course. My car came to halt.
The guys quickly alighted from the jeep and they were all armed to the teeth.
Kenny came in his motorcycle and stopped his bike a few feet ahead of me. He took out his shotgun and had it aimed straight at my chest.
The firing started before I even had the time to react.
I instinctively ducked for cover with my eyes closed.
But in my heart, I knew my time was up!!
As the seconds went by, even with all those bullets being sent my way - my body felt strangely light.
‘Am I in heaven already?’ I thought to myself.
I slowly opened my eyes and tilted my head upwards to take a peak.
And I realized I was sitting in an armoured bullet proof car.
The entire biker gang were mad with rage, doing everything possible to penetrate that thick armour plate.
Kenny was barking orders at his gang to continue the onslaught. He then pointed his finger at me and yelled, “I am coming for you.”
I looked down at the seat next to mine and saw the takeout I had ordered.
Just to piss him off even further, I took out my Big Mac and slowly took a big bite.
I sat there in gastronomic bliss savouring my burger, while being under a continuous hail of bullets.
The firing suddenly stopped. Kenny the psycho was livid as hell - to see me have a good time.
I looked him in the eye while I took a sip of my favourite milkshake.
And then, continued to chomp on my burger.
He looked a little crestfallen at how his plan was misfiring and then frantically gestured his troops to keep at it. The firing started again.
But it didn’t last long. They eventually all ran out of ammo and his buddies began to flee the scene, as we could hear sirens at a distance.
The attack had taken a toll on the car. But it managed to withstand all that damage. All that firing.
A life saver!
I looked at Kenny again. Only one thought was running through my head now.
‘My Turn’.
I switched on the ignition and rammed the car straight into Kenny. He hit the bonnet hard while the car continued to race forward.
He was clinging on to dear life with his outstretched hands desperately clutching at the sides of the car.
Next in the demolition line, was his prized Harley Davidson.
I hit it full steam and watched it smash to smithereens - with parts scattering all across the road.
Then, I hit the brakes and Kenny was sent flying 10 feet forward.
After impact, he slowly staggered to his feet - all bloody and bruised.
His face was swollen like an apple.
He was pleading towards me with folded hands to show him mercy.
‘This is for Stella. And She’s lovin it’, I said out loud.
I hit the accelerator again.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

I’ve been slowly starting to suspect I have some form of EDS: - as a child, I used to dislocate my knee from kneeling or just bending it weird. Sometimes as an adult I have felt like my hip is “off” and I have to stretch and sort of “pop” it back into place. My toe joints feel all weird sometimes and are prone to aching if I step wrong. - looked at beighton scale, scored something like a 6? Both pinkies bend 90 degrees, can touch my thumb to forearm on at least one arm, can lie my palms flat on floor without bending my knees, and a physical therapist already told me my elbow is hyper flexible when I went to get an ulnar nerve injury looked at. - I bruise very easily. Most of the time I don’t even know where I got my bruises. Basically, if I feel a little pain it’s going to bruise. I also always bruise when I have blood drawn if they don’t put a lot of pressure on it afterwards. - I have pretty noticeable pectus excavatum - I have an ADHD diagnosis and I suspect autism as well since all my siblings have it. - Extremely dry skin. I always have to put lotion on my hands after washing them, no matter how gentle the soap. AC also dries it up a lot. I have to carry thick hand lotion with me everywhere. - low muscle tone - idk if this is anything but I have a 100% overbite which, according to every orthodontist i’ve seen about it, was caused by my lower jaw not developing at the same rate as the rest of me. My jaw also used to get dislocated and “locked” growing up but that has mostly stopped since i figured out what movements to avoid.
My mom has always struggled with poor muscle tone and asthma. My younger siblings are definitely hyper mobile: my brother’s thumb knuckle bends almost 90 backwards just from giving a thumbs up.
Is this enough to go on, do y’all think? Or do you think I should look at something else. I’m pretty new to all this and tbh there’s already enough wrong with me, I kind of don’t want more. But I’m also worried about potential health problems in the future if I DO have something and ignore it. Thanks in advance.

I just beat the game I absolutely loved it! The platforming was super creative, the combat was challenging, everything about the game really fell into place. I thought it would be fun to rank all the areas - this will mostly be asking which are better and less which are worse cause the game is pretty consistently great.

1. The Depths - This area has some great design, with all the toxic waste, deadly traps, and sewage creatures, but it mainly loses some points both due to the dark sections being unnecessary, and due to the downright anxiety-inducing section where you have no map, the 1 part of the game I seriously didn’t like.
   
2. Lower City - This place is pretty vanilla, but In a good way, with a lot of the architecture, machines, and poles, and the soldiers to fight, serving as a great introduction to the game. The Jahandar was also a great introduction to boss fights. Very well-designed area, only low due to being simpler than the rest.
   
3. Upper City - The high-up feel is nailed here, with the chandelier climbing and all the enemies sniping you, the clock puzzle using the vorpal blade, and fighting Varham here was also pretty cool, especially the second time. It’s just not quite as excellent as the rest.
   
4. Sunken Harbour - loved this one - the spiky towers, booby traps everywhere, bandits and pirate ships all turned it into an unforgettable location. The platforming here was among the game’s best, but it was a bit disappointing that it lacked a boss.
   
5. Hircanian Forest - the climbable vines and emerging flowers all felt super snappy, while the forest’s critters and warriors complemented it all well. Using the bow to snipe targets always feels awesome. Kiana’s battle was a genuine highlight of the game too. No complaints here.
   
6. Tower of Silence - the grand scale of this area is unmatched, and perfectly combines with the use of the satisfying grappling string to make for an absolutely awesome ascent, up a mountain full of avalanches, icy spirits, and platforms that destroy you from under your feet made for a perfect pre-climax, even moreso thanks to the fantastic fight against King Darius.
   
7. Raging Sea - this level was short and the fight against Orod, while good, wasn’t one of my favorites - but I simply couldn’t help but adore it for the idea alone. A sea full of pirate ships, frozen in time - massive waves, burning walls, strikes of lightning, pirates doing battle, it was a magnificent setpiece, with the unfreezing by the end making it hit even harder, and it’s not just for show, as all of it was very fun and creative to play too.
   
8. Pit of Eternal Sands - alongside the sand snakes and ruins, the level really shines due to how satisfying weaving around the sand is, going through crystal walls and caterpillars, this place contains some of the most fun platforming challenges in the whole game, with the Azdaha battle being the icing on the cake.
   
9. Sacred Archives - I could never pick any other winner. The twisting bookcases, shifting walls, prison wardens, ghosts, mad mechanisms, traps, this place was creative to the max, and was made even more fun with the brilliant uses of both the clairvoyance and shadow teleportation, which while niche, when used right, manage to make the best sections of the game. And it all caps off, not with a boss, but with a segment that made my jaw drop, a set of puzzles using the shadow teleportation and time loops to make something like nothing I’ve seen before. This was a true highlight.
   

Anyway, I’m done gushing. Absolutely a brilliant game, enjoyed it greatly. What do you all think?

Hello, I would like to describe my current health issue to you, including my hypotheses about what might be causing it. I would like to hear your opinions on what it might be and how I should proceed. Keep in mind that I am already undergoing medical consultations and will have more, but so far, I have not reached a conclusion, so I would like as many opinions as possible.
If you need more information, feel free to ask.
For about two years, I have been experiencing facial pain and throat inflammation. I have never had these issues before. They started occurring after I had COVID-19, and I'm not sure if this is coincidental or a consequence of the virus. Initially, these pains were infrequent and mild, but in the past few months, they have become much more frequent and intense, significantly affecting my productivity, energy, and concentration. The pain is mostly noticeable upon waking, but sometimes it persists throughout the day. When the pain is less intense, it almost completely disappears after breakfast or lunch. However, when it is more severe, it doesn't go away at all, forcing me to rest in bed. Sometimes, even taking Tylenol does not relieve the pain.
The facial pain is located under my cheekbones, along my jaw, behind my eyes, and when it's very intense, at the center of my head just above my nose. The pain is continuous on both sides of my face and does not worsen with touch.
As for my throat, it feels like there's a constant lump at the lower part, as if it were scratched. It hurts continuously, not just when I swallow.
These pains occur year-round, regardless of the season.
Regarding medical checks and existing conditions, here are the details:

• I’ve had an eye exam, and there has been no deterioration beyond my existing myopia and astigmatism.
  
• I’ve been checked and do not have sinusitis.
  
• X-rays have shown no issues with my cervical spine.
  
• I likely clench my teeth at night and should be using a mouthguard.
  
• I need to have my wisdom teeth removed (I’ve only had one extracted so far) because they have not fully emerged and are pushing against the other teeth.
  
• I am allergic to dust mites.
  
• I have L4-S1 discopathy.
  
• Blood tests for thyroid issues showed no problems.
  
• I am currently on a treatment of Nicetile 500mg (L-acetylcarnitine HCl) under the assumption it might address nerve inflammation post-COVID, but there have been no changes after 15 days.
  

These issues also cause poor sleep quality. Despite sleeping for 7-8 hours, I wake up feeling tired and as if I need more rest, even if I did not exert myself physically or mentally the previous day.
From the beginning of May onwards, I experienced two weeks where every day I had a sore throat, headaches, and excessive tiredness, despite having taken antihistamines and cortisone spray for more than 20 days in April. I had a flu in early May and felt very ill; all symptoms (sore throat, cold, headache) were amplified and kept me in bed for several days, as if I had COVID. Even after the flu passed, I continued to experience throat lumps and headaches, along with excessive tiredness that rest did not alleviate.
I maintain a fairly balanced diet and engage in regular physical activity. I am physically at a normal weight.
My hypotheses:

• Depression/anxiety
  
• Sleep disorders such as sleep apnea, insomnia, or hypersomnia
  
• Chronic fatigue syndrome
  
• Long COVID
  
• Symptoms of a dust mite allergy
  
• Dental malocclusion and teeth grinding at night
  

Thank you to anyone who provides suggestions.

Hello, I would like to describe my current health issue to you, including my hypotheses about what might be causing it. I would like to hear your opinions on what it might be and how I should proceed. Keep in mind that I am already undergoing medical consultations and will have more, but so far, I have not reached a conclusion, so I would like as many opinions as possible.
If you need more information, feel free to ask.
For about two years, I have been experiencing facial pain and throat inflammation. I have never had these issues before. They started occurring after I had COVID-19, and I'm not sure if this is coincidental or a consequence of the virus. Initially, these pains were infrequent and mild, but in the past few months, they have become much more frequent and intense, significantly affecting my productivity, energy, and concentration. The pain is mostly noticeable upon waking, but sometimes it persists throughout the day. When the pain is less intense, it almost completely disappears after breakfast or lunch. However, when it is more severe, it doesn't go away at all, forcing me to rest in bed. Sometimes, even taking Tylenol does not relieve the pain.
The facial pain is located under my cheekbones, along my jaw, behind my eyes, and when it's very intense, at the center of my head just above my nose. The pain is continuous on both sides of my face and does not worsen with touch.
As for my throat, it feels like there's a constant lump at the lower part, as if it were scratched. It hurts continuously, not just when I swallow.
These pains occur year-round, regardless of the season.
Regarding medical checks and existing conditions, here are the details:

• I’ve had an eye exam, and there has been no deterioration beyond my existing myopia and astigmatism.
  
• I’ve been checked and do not have sinusitis.
  
• X-rays have shown no issues with my cervical spine.
  
• I likely clench my teeth at night and should be using a mouthguard.
  
• I need to have my wisdom teeth removed (I’ve only had one extracted so far) because they have not fully emerged and are pushing against the other teeth.
  
• I am allergic to dust mites.
  
• I have L4-S1 discopathy.
  
• Blood tests for thyroid issues showed no problems.
  
• I am currently on a treatment of Nicetile 500mg (L-acetylcarnitine HCl) under the assumption it might address nerve inflammation post-COVID, but there have been no changes after 15 days.
  

These issues also cause poor sleep quality. Despite sleeping for 7-8 hours, I wake up feeling tired and as if I need more rest, even if I did not exert myself physically or mentally the previous day.
From the beginning of May onwards, I experienced two weeks where every day I had a sore throat, headaches, and excessive tiredness, despite having taken antihistamines and cortisone spray for more than 20 days in April. I had a flu in early May and felt very ill; all symptoms (sore throat, cold, headache) were amplified and kept me in bed for several days, as if I had COVID. Even after the flu passed, I continued to experience throat lumps and headaches, along with excessive tiredness that rest did not alleviate.
I maintain a fairly balanced diet and engage in regular physical activity. I am physically at a normal weight.
My hypotheses:

• Depression/anxiety
  
• Sleep disorders such as sleep apnea, insomnia, or hypersomnia
  
• Chronic fatigue syndrome
  
• Long COVID
  
• Symptoms of a dust mite allergy
  
• Dental malocclusion and teeth grinding at night
  

Thank you to anyone who provides suggestions.

Hello, I would like to describe my current health issue to you, including my hypotheses about what might be causing it. I would like to hear your opinions on what it might be and how I should proceed. Keep in mind that I am already undergoing medical consultations and will have more, but so far, I have not reached a conclusion, so I would like as many opinions as possible.
If you need more information, feel free to ask.
For about two years, I have been experiencing facial pain and throat inflammation. I have never had these issues before. They started occurring after I had COVID-19, and I'm not sure if this is coincidental or a consequence of the virus. Initially, these pains were infrequent and mild, but in the past few months, they have become much more frequent and intense, significantly affecting my productivity, energy, and concentration. The pain is mostly noticeable upon waking, but sometimes it persists throughout the day. When the pain is less intense, it almost completely disappears after breakfast or lunch. However, when it is more severe, it doesn't go away at all, forcing me to rest in bed. Sometimes, even taking Tylenol does not relieve the pain.
The facial pain is located under my cheekbones, along my jaw, behind my eyes, and when it's very intense, at the center of my head just above my nose. The pain is continuous on both sides of my face and does not worsen with touch.
As for my throat, it feels like there's a constant lump at the lower part, as if it were scratched. It hurts continuously, not just when I swallow.
These pains occur year-round, regardless of the season.
Regarding medical checks and existing conditions, here are the details:

• I’ve had an eye exam, and there has been no deterioration beyond my existing myopia and astigmatism.
  
• I’ve been checked and do not have sinusitis.
  
• X-rays have shown no issues with my cervical spine.
  
• I likely clench my teeth at night and should be using a mouthguard.
  
• I need to have my wisdom teeth removed (I’ve only had one extracted so far) because they have not fully emerged and are pushing against the other teeth.
  
• I am allergic to dust mites.
  
• I have L4-S1 discopathy.
  
• Blood tests for thyroid issues showed no problems.
  
• I am currently on a treatment of Nicetile 500mg (L-acetylcarnitine HCl) under the assumption it might address nerve inflammation post-COVID, but there have been no changes after 15 days.
  

These issues also cause poor sleep quality. Despite sleeping for 7-8 hours, I wake up feeling tired and as if I need more rest, even if I did not exert myself physically or mentally the previous day.
From the beginning of May onwards, I experienced two weeks where every day I had a sore throat, headaches, and excessive tiredness, despite having taken antihistamines and cortisone spray for more than 20 days in April. I had a flu in early May and felt very ill; all symptoms (sore throat, cold, headache) were amplified and kept me in bed for several days, as if I had COVID. Even after the flu passed, I continued to experience throat lumps and headaches, along with excessive tiredness that rest did not alleviate.
I maintain a fairly balanced diet and engage in regular physical activity. I am physically at a normal weight.
My hypotheses:

• Depression/anxiety
  
• Sleep disorders such as sleep apnea, insomnia, or hypersomnia
  
• Chronic fatigue syndrome
  
• Long COVID
  
• Symptoms of a dust mite allergy
  
• Dental malocclusion and teeth grinding at night
  

Thank you to anyone who provides suggestions.