Free full tilt card backs mod

So, I’m posting this here because I don’t want to look at guides and get spoiled but I’m what I assumed is the endgame here, and I’m wondering what to do next, and if I get to explore the rest of the map after the ending or should I just shoot for 100% before going for the ending.
Phrased above as spoiler free as possible but from here on out I’m going full spoilers…
I finished the swamp, visited all hero graves and got my body back. I’m only missing two manual pages, the door in the mountains and the final boss. I also want to get all the fairies (only found six) and treasures (think I got three or four).
What confused me is that pages 45 and 46 seem to hint that there are two endings, and I’m afraid that pursuing one is gonna lock me out of the other, but I’m also thinking that maybe clearing the final boss is necessary for getting one of those final pages. There seems to be one page in that area you go to using hero’s graves, but I can’t figure out how to reach it either… assuming it’s something I get to do by either opening the door in the mountains or beating the final boss.
Since page 46 says to use the power of the holy cross, I’m thinking that the golden path is probably the path you create using the pages in the order instructed in page 49 (haven’t done that yet, but I think I figured out how to solve that)… I’m assuming the door leads to ending B and facing the heir (is that his name? The boss in the fast travel area that destroyed my body) is ending A.
The crux of it is that I’m afraid to move in any direction and get locked out of the rest and be stuck with an incomplete save file.
So, can I return to the map after final boss? And are the endings exclusive or is it like Hollow Knight where I can keep reloading my endgame file and going for the next ending? And am I right about ending A being the heir and ending B being the door in the mountains or can I keep chasing that without triggering ending B?
Thanks in advance. Y’all seem like a lovely community but I’m really afraid of reading posts and getting spoiled LOL

I posted this in divorce too...just looking for insight.
7 months..
Long story short- my husband(m33) and I (f29) fight constantly. 3 weeks ago, in the heat of it, he said he'd rather be alone than deal with this, and he never wanted to see my face again.
So I kicked him out.
It's important to know that for 7 years we've been living with my parents- we have a living room and full bathroom and bedroom. Shared kitchen and rest of the house. We pay 600 for rent. He moved in while I was finishing school, and then we decided to buy stuff instead of save for a house.
2 Halloweens ago, he up and leaves during a fight. Says he needs space. Went to his sisters for 3 or 4 days. Came back.
This Jan. Did the same thing. No communication. Just needed a break from the fighting. Didn't tell me when he was coming back. Didn't know if he was going to. He came back after 3 weeks. Of course, nothing changed. We went back to the same patterns.
Now. 3 weeks ago I kicked him out. Within 1 week, I had moved all his stuff to within 30 minutes from him, well packed and organized (he is living 2 hours away by his family). He's already found an apartment and is moved in. It's so tiny, we both could not live there.
Before he moved, we were going to have the debt paid off by Dec. (Debt we both accrued, but that I mainly have been the bill payer and stressed about getting out of debt alone. He could never care either way.) That is 7 months away now. Also, isn't going to happen because he isn't there.
Now, there is a large sum of debt in my name, but to split it let's just say that he agreed to pay me 500 for 20 months to help pay off half the debt that he helped get.
I told him that before I move out from where I am, I want to be debt free finally. Yes, I'll have a car payment and yes I understand debt from if we have a house. But not 7 credit cards and 3 loans. That is killing me.
So, I Said that I want 12 months. So we figure stuff out, figure out who we are alone, decide if we want to be together, figure out how to communicate effectively etc. I am willing to meet half way for dates, and even go to his apartment.
He didn't like the time. Fine. I pulled it all the way back to 7 months. The original goal for getting our debt paid off. (Even though originally he'd promised that we could also travel, so really we wouldn't have moved before summer of 2025 if things had stayed the same.)
Keep in mind: I met this guy on a dating app, and he'd lived 2 hours away when I first met him.
So, I am offering this deal: 7 months of long distance, texting, calling, facetiming, figuring out who we are as individuals, what we can be as a couple, doing counseling, dates, weekends together, etc.
He's saying I move with him right now (even though I can't just move my job, and he doesn't make enough to pay all of my minimums on debt.) Or we get a divorce. There is no working on stuff long distance.
I know I'm setting myself up for criticism. I don't want to give up on my marriage. But I don't see how, if we wouldn't or couldn't figure out how to talk to each other nicely living together in one space, how will we be able to magically do it in another space?
Internet: I know everyone is different and not everyone can do the same things- but am I crazy for asking for 7 months for the things i listed above? (Keep in mind at 7 months, I am willing to move there, but ultimately I'd like to live somewhere between the 2 families or even in a different state we both love.) (Also, his lease us month to month. So, we wouldn't have to worry about that.)
(Also Also, sorry for my crap writing. On mobile.)

Since Monday I have been publishing a post about KFW. I have decided to take the time to answer some questions (That no one has asked) about what the KFW project is and how long it will be updated.
What is the KFW Project:
I have been playing KFW for a year now. I suck at it. I have also played, mostly with IRL mods. Dabbling with the Cornellverse though there is one promotion that has caught my eye time and again. Kid Friendly Wrestling or KFW. The promotion’s wrestlers suck, they have the stupidest gimmicks, and the whole thing is obviously aimed for kids. It got my gears turning. What could I do with something like that? What stories could be told? Over the last 6 months I have pondered on this. Taken notes and planned PPV’s. I have the first three years planned right now and working on the fourth.
How long will this be updated?
Forever. I hope. I have put a lot of time and effort into KFW and my ideas for it. My hope is every Monday to put on this sub reddit the match breakdown and for anyone interested a full report on the show. Not to mention various news posts throughout the week. How many and how frequent will depend on what is going on that week in KFW.
Wait did you say a Monday Report?
That’s right. Every Monday along with the average card breakdown will be a full write up. My fantasy IWC website is called Wrestling City. Every week Alaric King will bring you his detailed write up on KFW episodes and PPVs.
How Detailed?
Detailed. I am a writer and part of me doing this is to get the cobwebs off. Rest assured Alaric King will bring YOU a detailed breakdown of not only matches but segments.
How it will work is simple if a match gets an 11 for instance he will shit on that segment or match. If the match gets a 100 he will write that review like he is giving Kenny Omega a 7 in the Tokyo Dome.
Are you going to continue updating in the comments the news from the previous days? Won’t that add up quick?
Yes it will and no I won’t. I am going crazy with this and I built a fully functioning website. With an about page, Roster page, Champion Page, and News page. It will continue to be updated every week, if not every day. When I mean fully functioning I mean fully functioning. Click on whatever icons it just works.
What if no one gives a shit?
That's possible and that is fine. In truth I am doing this for myself. Having fun. To be honest I would have built a website anyway. I am nuts like that. My hope is that a few of you here go on this crazy ride with me. Trust me it's going to be a wild ride.
So what next?
Wait until tomorrow. I will be posting on this reddit around 12pm-3pm another round of news stories and will be updating the website for those that would rather use that. Starting next week my planned schedule for updates is Monday (TV show update), Wednesday (News), Friday (News). I may sprinkle more news or whatever here or their but we shall see.
So does this only have to do with KFW?
No. Eventually the news will have to do with the entire Cornellverse as KFW grows and evolves but I will save those surprises for later.
So what is this website?
You can find it in the comments below... for some reason I can't post this with a link

So before I start yes I know I’m dumb and made horrible financial decisions. I’m still young and really dumb and live with my parents and with full time job and going to college full time. I’ve traveled abroad many times some of that didn’t help my situation and that’s for sure. I have combined about $10,000 in credit card debt that’s been unpaid for 1.5 or so years as well as a few grand in personal loans. In March I was in Korea to visit friends as my friend I work with offered to pay for my plane ticket and I paid her back March 29th 2024 and I’ve just gave up all hope I’ll be able to pay my debts starting today. I just learned about “insiders” and I’m scared they will come after her for the $750 I sent via PayPal. I really would hate to wait a whole year when I got myself into this mess. (Also I did not spend any money on credit cards or go into debt for this recent trip I was on it was all bank account and chime credit builder which is my money I put into the account and acts like a credit card).

Hey there chronic illness peeps! Hope you’re all hanging in there on this Wednesday evening. I (22F) was diagnosed with MCAS a year ago and was found to have been misdiagnosed a few months ago as I actually have HATS (a similar mast cell disease except it is genetic). I have been on my chronic illness diagnosis journey since I was 16, but it went into full swing at age 20 after the flu resulted in much more severe symptoms. I have been referred to numerous doctors including 3 rheumatologists, 3 immunologists, 2 gastroenterologists, a nephrologist, a cardiologist, an allergist, a functional medicine doc, a hematologist, and a neurologist. All 3 immunologists felt HATS could not have symptoms so I have been dropped from each office and am receiving all care for that condition through functional medicine. I have been believed to have POTS by 3 doctors which led to the cardiologist and neurologist, but my tilt tables came back negative and I was dropped from those offices as a result. Within the past two months I have had growing difficulties with fatigue, migraines, and stomach issues. I have also developed intermittent numbness in my hands and legs, lack of temperature perception in my extremities, motor tics, and visual disturbances (ranging from floaters, to loss of peripheral vision, as well as total temporary loss of vision). I am at a loss for ideas right now. My PCP has no idea what to do with me and there is no clear path as to what should be looked into next. I’m a college student going into my senior year and I can’t really do things how I used to. Is anyone in the same boat? Has anyone had similar experiences?

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

Shipping and Payment
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
“ Risky “ 1st class 🫧 envelope non-machinable $2 -
I take Zelle , Venmo , Cash App , Mailed Cash and trades for gold, goldbacks , platinum and palladium.
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off its the responsibility of USPS.
Please ask for photos or if I have multiple of the same item!
Date Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
$100 army man rainbow 🌈 lot
1oz cannabis silver and copper
3 90% half
A Morgan and a mercury dime
$100 shipped
You can have the army man.
PRE-33 GOLD
https://imgur.com/a/MNAYZip
1908 D $5 Gold $1300
https://imgur.com/a/xINXuM0
1927 2.5 gold $800
https://imgur.com/a/diOJZvh
1914 D 2.5 Gold $700
https://imgur.com/a/PX94LL9
1901 2.5 Gold $650
https://imgur.com/a/mExBjEn
SILVER COINS AND ROUNDS 🕰️
Niue 1oz silver Aerosmith 1 oz $31
1oz silver 5 mark Germania “ witchcraft “ - $60
Homer Simpson 2019 donut $70
Simpson family Christmas $55
1oz silver Superman Samoa 🇼🇸 $5 coin $38
Spider-Man 1oz $45
St. Lucia 2020 1 oz silver lizard 🦎 $33
2021 Wonder Woman 1oz $70
Batman 1oz $70
Scarface 1 oz $40
🥤 Coca-Cola 1 oz silver round 1 oz $33
Grogu Star Wars 1oz silver $33
🇺🇸 Army 1 oz silver bar / round $33
Bar 1
Bar 2 digital camouflage
Street fighter chun lee 1oz 🇯🇵 - $33
Wolverine 1oz 🇨🇦 $50
The Godfather 1oz silver $40
Silver Bart Simpson 1 oz $60 🛹
2023 Homer Simpson carded 1 oz $60 📷
SWAMP THING 1oz colorized- $75 📷
2024 silver shield 1oz silver cannabis round $38
ET 🪐 Niue 1oz 2 dollar movie poster bar $45
1 oz trump wanted rounds $32
Beavis and butthead 🔥 🧻 1 oz silver
$80
Intaglio Mint 1oz “ the 4 seasons “ nude art 🖼️ round $60
Donald Duck $40
1991 liberty lobby 1/2 oz round - $14 each 4 available
This is under spot slightly ⭐️
FRANCE 🇫🇷 10 franc 1965 silver .8134 asw
$26
1oz Silver Camel Cigarettes Joe Camel 🐪 - $65
Disneys snow White doc 1 oz $70
1 oz proof ablum
https://imgur.com/a/tYA9NDZ
Silver $1 commemorative
Capsule only
Baseball $1 proof $28 !!!
Lewis and Clark proof $28
2011 infantry no box $33
1992 Columbus $1 - $28
D-day $1 bu $28
Wright brothers $1 $28
Capsule proof:
https://imgur.com/a/9sCzhiP
In original mint packaging 📷
1993 WW2 2 coin set $1 - $35
1993 WW2 2 coin set proof $33
1994 World Cup 2 coin set $27 !
1995 civil war battlefield 2 coin proof set $30
1995 Olympic cyclist 🚴 proof $30
1995 Olympic track and field proof $30
1996 national community service proof $27
1996 Smithsonian $1 proof $27
1998 Robert f Kennedy $1 proof - $35
1999 Yellow stone national park $35
2003 wright brothers first flight $1 proof - $29
2006 San Francisco old Mint $1 proof $28
Benjamin Franklin founding father proof $35
2012 Infantry Soldier $1 $40
Comm proof:
https://imgur.com/a/iaF31xI
Silver Dollars 💵
1883 o $100
2007 ASE certified $38
2006 ASE certified $38
Nicer 1921 Morgan in cap $38
1926 D peace dollar $33
1887 $1 - $70
1921 Morgan plastic flip $45
1886 $1 $70
1922 peace dollar $26 !!!! 🔥
Better 1922 peace dollar $26
Nice 1922 peace dollar $26
1925 peace dollar $26
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/fBk2WiY
1921 Morgan MS $60
1896 Morgan $65
1885 Morgan $90
1878 CC $1 $170
1897 $1 $85
1890 O $1 $80
1921 MS $60
Proof;
https://imgur.com/a/jJbdBJa
Glass Panther Art pours and more,
🥤🍔🌎🦩🌞🧊
Fallout New Vegas
Lucky 38 1oz silver “ platinum chip “ $45
Vintage 1977 Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar
Nashville TN $70
Norfolk Va $70
Atlanta $70
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar $35
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver round $35
Coca-Cola Christmas 2019 Fiji Santa Clause 1oz - $50 🎅
Fiji 🇫🇯 1oz coca-cola bottle cap $149 📷
10k gold coca-cola pin 📌 $150 📷
7.5 oz 1:1 scale .999 silver derringer - $400 ⭐️
3oz M4 🐆 $199 ! 🔥
1oz army man $90
Sunshine 1oz $140
Cyborg 1oz $140
Smurf 1 oz $35
Art cola Proof ;
https://imgur.com/a/mlUyEQZ
HALF DOLLARS and more 💵
1822 Bust half dollar $75
1825 bust half dollar $70
1876 seated half $50
1896 O Barber half $60
1895 p barber half $30
1952 Washington/ carver half $25
1877 seated half $45
Booker T Half $25
1964 MS 50c $14
1963 D 50c unc $18
1955 Canada 50c $15 🔥
1992 silver 50c proof $15 🔥
2005 s silver proof $15 🔥
1858 50C $70
Canada silver 5 cents $6
1857 dime $20
1923 mercury dime $3
1937 mercury dime au $12
1936 AU mercury dime $13
1927 mercury dime $4
Barber dime coa $4
Ohio silver quarter $12
1XX3 seated quarter $18
1955 ms quarter $12
1964 ms quarter $9
1904 p 25c $8
1908 O 25c $10
1912 d 10c $9
Metal detector dime $5
1909 p barber dime $19
1903 p 25c $9
1916 p barber $4
1912 D $5
1916 $6
1907 $8
1914 10c $12
1832 half dime $90 📷
Proof
https://imgur.com/a/PhO1Bhq
SETS 📺 📷
Silver war nickel set $8
Dimes of the 20th century $6
Bill of rights silver 50c young collector set
$19
Buy all for $25 . Great deal.
Jewelry 💍
1 gram 10k earrings $25
7 gram. 925 bracelet $7
Take both for $31
https://imgur.com/a/H4Nrark
Rarities 🦜 📷
1/4 oz art bar gilded Halloween $35
1/4 oz art bar gilded Pug $35
COPPER 📣
Copper Cannabis Leaf 🍁 Round $2
2023 year of the Dragon 🐉 copper round $2
Lincoln Wheat Cent 1oz COPPER $2
Copper proof;
https://imgur.com/a/b6dcW1Y
🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 GOLD 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸
0 - 2021 New Hampshire 1 GoldBack $5 each - free ihp with purchase and ground shipping limit 4 ihp
I’m out of these, sell me or trade for cheap.
https://imgur.com/a/JBEAJ4j
Bank of America 10k pendant with seed pearls , I think it’s 3.6 grams. $120 📷
Bank of America 10k pin 📌 no pearls, $100
📷
Fractional silver
1 gram silver in card $1.70
📷 https://imgur.com/a/x4CsSMR
CANADA SILVER 🇨🇦 🍁
Canada 1955 50c $20 📷
Canada $1 1987 proof $20 📷
Superman $20 silver $25
Batman vs Superman Canada $20 silver coin $29
Bugs Bunny $20 silver $35
Star trek 2016 silver $20 coin. $35
2016 Canada $20 silver T-Rex $25
2014 Canada $20 Snowman $22 2014 Canada $20 silver summer swimming coin $22
Canada proof
https://imgur.com/a/bUSuicI
Bank bag assortment lot that I forgot:
Futurama Shut up and take my money 1oz - $45
From glass panther
vintage coke bar 1oz $65
2014 icg panda $38
St. Lucia 1 oz lizard 🦎 $31
Trump wanted $32
https://imgur.com/a/q8pR7c3
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
Risky envelope shipping $2
I take Zelle and Venmo Cash App and Mailed Cash and small gold or 1 goldbacks @3.75
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off it is the responsibility of USPS
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6

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

Long story short- my husband and I fight constantly. 3 weeks ago, in the heat of it, he said he'd rather be alone than deal with this, and he never wanted to see my face again.
So I kicked him out.
It's important to know that for 7 years we've been living with my parents- we have a living room and full bathroom and bedroom. Shared kitchen and rest of the house. We pay 600 for rent. He moved in while I was finishing school, and then we decided to buy stuff instead of save for a house.
2 Halloweens ago, he up and leaves during a fight. Says he needs space. Went to his sisters for 3 or 4 days. Came back.
This Jan. Did the same thing. No communication. Just needed a break from the fighting. Didn't tell me when he was coming back. Didn't know if he was going to. He came back after 3 weeks. Of course, nothing changed. We went back to the same patterns.
Now. 3 weeks ago I kicked him out. Within 1 week, I had moved all his stuff to within 30 minutes from him, well packed and organized (he is living 2 hours away by his family). He's already found an apartment and is moved in. It's so tiny, we both could not live there.
Before he moved, we were going to have the debt paid off by Dec. (Debt we both accrued, but that I mainly have been the bill payer and stressed about getting out of debt alone. He could never care either way.) That is 7 months away now. Also, isn't going to happen because he isn't there.
Now, there is a large sum of debt in my name, but to split it let's just say that he agreed to pay me 500 for 20 months to help pay off half the debt that he helped get.
I told him that before I move out from where I am, I want to be debt free finally. Yes, I'll have a car payment and yes I understand debt from if we have a house. But not 7 credit cards and 3 loans. That is killing me.
So, I Said that I want 12 months. So we figure stuff out, figure out who we are alone, decide if we want to be together, figure out how to communicate effectively etc. I am willing to meet half way for dates, and even go to his apartment.
He didn't like the time. Fine. I pulled it all the way back to 7 months. The original goal for getting our debt paid off. (Even though originally he'd promised that we could also travel, so really we wouldn't have moved before summer of 2025 if things had stayed the same.)
Keep in mind: I met this guy on a dating app, and he'd lived 2 hours away when I first met him.
So, I am offering this deal: 7 months of long distance, texting, calling, facetiming, figuring out who we are as individuals, what we can be as a couple, doing counseling, dates, weekends together, etc.
He's saying I move with him right now (even though I can't just move my job, and he doesn't make enough to pay all of my minimums on debt.) Or we get a divorce. There is no working on stuff long distance.
I know I'm setting myself up for criticism. I don't want to give up on my marriage. But I don't see how, if we wouldn't or couldn't figure out how to talk to each other nicely living together in one space, how will we be able to magically do it in another space?
Internet: I know everyone is different and not everyone can do the same things- but am I crazy for asking for 7 months for the things i listed above? (Keep in mind at 7 months, I am willing to move there, but ultimately I'd like to live somewhere between the 2 families or even in a different state we both love.) (Also, his lease us month to month. So, we wouldn't have to worry about that.) (Also Also, sorry for my crap writing. On mobile.)

The players have been made aware of this, and have agreed. This is not meant to be a discussion of railroading.
Each player, some in groups, have had, or will have a private session leading up to the official start. They all start in the same place, against their will. Each character has something unique about them, or valuable, that would be appealing to slave traders. A very popular line of work in this part of the world. With undead being pretty much eradicated, cheap labor had to come from elsewhere. The party are more special than cheap labor.
A orc who wanted to escape the violence of his people and live peacefully. The reputation of his kin follows him everywhere.
An elvish princess, a rare thing in a world where there's around 500 elves left.
A bounty hunter, apart of a very well known clan, who possesses many trade secrets and tools. Many want their revenge.
A pair of twins who stumbled upon artifacts they shouldn't have. Otherworldly powers, and an unfair debt owed.
This corner of the world attracts many tourists for the same reason LA or Vegas does. There is endless opportunity for those willing to work for it, or a life of luxury for those who can afford it. Streets are filled with gambling, and exotics imports from all over the world. Gladiator style areas however is what brings in the most. Warriors from all over to come to show off their strength, willingly or not. For slave traders, this is where the money is. A fighter who can put on a show is a very valuable thing, and why 3/5 of the characters start off as prisoners.
The orc, elf, and bounty hunter are from across the region. Kidnapped for purposes that will be revealed later to them, backstory elements coming into play that made them desirable and worth the risk. The twins are apart of the gang who takes them, but they are not involved with this part. They simple are muscle, and smuggle drugs around for the gang. Session 1 is the first time the twins meet the other side of the business, and it's not for a promotion.
The session starts with the twins arriving to the hideout. Located at an old mining operation in the middle of the desert, it has been fortified and turned into something more. The old gates reinforced to create an area, and the entrance into the mines a jail. Deeper inside has been turned into a temple of Anubis, the prominate god of the area, but not all is what it seems. The twins are brought here to witness a fight. An elf druid, one traveling with the elf princess at the time of her capture is in the area trying to talk an owlbear out of eating with with little success. He wild shapes into a small bird in an attempt to escape, only to be shot out of the sky immediately by a guard with a long rifle. His death is quick, and gruesome as the owlbear does its thing to the prone man.
Afterwards, the twins are escorted inside. Past the jail, into the deeper chambers where they meet their boss. A Dwarvish women who immediately comes across as disliking them. She wants to test the twins loyalty, and this is when the characters are all brought together. The other 3 characters are brought into the room. One by one they are shot by the boss, and brought back by a cleric of Anubis, leaving only the twins left standing. This is just a showing of how she's willing to get her hands dirty, cause the twins want something that belongs to her.
The twins last big job was a heist. They needed to retrieve a silver jewelry box, and they had one rule. Under no circumstances is that box opened. Well, it was, but not willingly. The jewelry box contained a scale of a mercury dragon - dragons are rare, god-like beings here, and a scale like this is akin to an artifact rarity magic item. This Mercury dragon just happens to be the patron of the brother now, as the scale absorbed into him, through no choice or fault of his own. The boss wanted this power to herself, and upon retrieving the box, it didn't appear to be opened. Imagine her disappointment when she found it was empty. The brother was the only one alone with the box.
The sister is presented a deal. Kill her brother, right here, right now. Prove her loyalty without question or they both die. This is the first major decision the players are able to make now. If she pulls the trigger, or not. The boss isn't stupid. The gun handed to the sister isn't loaded. It's simply a test. If both siblings are to be shot, or just the one. The ending is largely the same.
Bleeding out on the ground, the sister, and newly revived party members witness the corpse of the brother forcibly raised from the dead to answer questions. The location of the item in the box. If his sister knew he stole it. Is he still loyal. - my ruling of Speak with Dead is they don't have to answer, but if they do, the answer must not be a lie. He will be brought back, but his answers will determine later interactions. Now, the sister. Every player in the game will have moments in the spotlight. I decided to start with her, as it made most sense, and given the twins background, they will be key members to the party next chapter. She still has the empty gun. If she knows its empty or not will change a few small details. She too is a warlock, and this is the signing of her pact with the Hexblade.
Her interpretation of this place is her own to make. She awakes in a void, and although she is still herself here, she is consumed by nothingness. No pain, no sound, no feeling at all. Not even a heartbeat. Here she meets an entity. A "shadow" that mimics her every movement. It even shifts slightly, becoming a silhouette of herself. When she touches it, it is an overwhelming sense of feeling. Fireworks going off at the tip of her fingertips. The warmth of her blood becoming as hot as the sun, but somehow feels comforting compared to the nothingness shes felt for all this time. Outside seconds have past. Here, it could have been years, or seconds. Impossible to tell. But with this touch she hears a voice reach out to her. "Squeeze". She's back in the room, vision blurry as her life fades. Gun raised, aimed at her boss, who doesn't fear an empty gun. Only, it's no longer empty. This is her new pact weapon. It functions as a gun, but she can choose to shoot normal bullets or eldritch blast from it.
Their escape comes soon after. The hideout is attacked by a Sand Stalker - a purple-worm like creature. Other captives save them, and the campaigns first chapter begins here. They are in the middle of the desert, very limited supplies, uncertain where exactly they are. Few npc trying to get to the capital city to find help. The twins, bounty hunter, and other npc know that everyone who bares the mark of the clan will have bounties out on them, to be returned to their owners. The world in now open to them, as they learn how to free themselves of this debt one way or another.
The slave contract is as good as a deal with a devil. Legally binding, and magical in nature. Each master / house has its own distinct mark to show ownership. Once the debt is paid off, the mark will fade on its own. Their starting debt is 10k gp each. It is meant to be ridiculous. The bounty on a slave is always 10% of their total debt. So, 1k gp to return them if they job is put out, and it will be. If captured the reward money is added to the debt they owe, making it 11k gp now. The system is designed to be nearly impossible to be free.
In the main city there are several patrons willing to help them for one reason or another. Old contacts of the twins and bounty hunter in the party are expected to be called upon. There's multiple escapes from the city I have ready, and I am looking forward to what they come up with. I don't expect them to ever pay off their debt. The main story will later being them back here, when they're ready to take on the challenges of the city in full, and save the world. Standard stuff.
This is a new attempt at an intro. Throwing them into the fire with a clear goal. A long "cinematic" before giving them full control. They all know the stakes, and are in a position of "our chances are better together" apposed from the classic meeting in the tavern and dealing with rats.
Every character has elements from their backstory that matter here, and will drastically effect the campaign going forward. They had all known the basics of the intro, and details where they started prior to making characters. Changes were made to my plans based on their characters, incorporating them into it one way or another. There were always slavers, and they were always going to die. The twins backstories are the only ones from this region and they provided me a lot to work with, and ability to tie them into the scenario.
The boss killing and betraying the twins is a detail I think is very important. The other characters may see them as enemies, so by doing it this way they have common enemies and no secrets about it. Only the sister is not in debt, giving her a few special privilege's while in the city. All the players know each other, have played in other games together, and know what's expected. I am trying to make the party's coming together seem natural by immediately giving them a common problem and no one else to turn to. [BG3 SPOILERS] as the mindflayer parasites provided the main cast common problems, and Out of the Abyss first chapter being major influences. There are many other politics involved also, some sub plots that will come up later that tie to this, and a lot of world lore involved giving insight to why this region functions like this.

Things to consider before reading , the red logo stands for Gamestop and he showed the name of every song on purpose so you can go and read the lyrics.Everything he did is calculated.
First video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790532552828289526 he informs us red clothes and bleeding = the stock will bleed today
2 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790713748866371690 the red logo on her dress is the Gamestop logo = red day incoming , SONG lyrics : Right now, down, down, down
3 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790717515523658119 Again u can see the red Gamestop logo on his shirt while he is getting electrocuted, "you want to be fooled"=They will try to fool you to sell ,the words " IM BACK" in red = the stock will bleed but also "IN THE SADDLE AGAIN" is green = with burden (buying while stock is red) you will get $ because green =money
4 video: https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790721293089964126 at the end you can see the Gamestop logo again and it says under "HOLD PATTERN UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE" this one is self explanatory lol
5 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790725065585439065 look at some of the lyrics of this song : "Singing we're here to keep your prices down" , "You made a pig's ear, you made a mistake", "You got away with it but we lie in wait" , "you're fast to lose, you will lose" ,
6 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790728848226521547 "Youre not actually going IN to an asteroid field?" = go IN , thats why he used CAPS , again look at the lyrics of the song : "Run along now don't be glum" , "Don't be long for the end is nigh" = nigh means almost/at or to a short distance away , "Don't let moments pass along And waste before your eyes" = dont miss the moment to buy , "Come with me and the slithy toves".The asteroids that hit the spaceship on the way are the burdens before you hit the goal.
7 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790732615022195139 "bitch" captions u can see red and green flag , i guess he means dont be a bitch, stocks go red and green ,they are not always green and he used RED captions for "think its a game" which probably means that the stock going red today is just a game.
8 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790736391124774975 some of the lyrics : " What I need for keeps this silly game we play, play." , "I think I'm first but surely finish last, last."
9 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790740164848861227 lyrics " I wanna send a message to them,Teach em a lesson quickly,Publicly addressing me, disrespecting me heavily They better be lucky the way my blessings effected me"
10 video : https://twitter.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790743946764644659 start of video you can see the gamestop logo in his hand and after MR DFV says " please return your seatbacks to their full upright and locked position" = return to the game and lock in.The conversation between them , The narrator represents : The real Roaring Kitty who holds his position and does not sell and Tyler represent the person who people yesterday thought he was and in this case a person who sold his stocks.The narrator ( Roaring Kitty) asks why do people think i am you (the person who sold his stocks) and you can see for a second a guy with red shirt besides The Narrator ( Roaring Kitty ) which represent the bleeding stock.Basically ppl think he is the person who sold because its a red day.Tyler says "why would ppl confuse you with me " and then it comes scene where the guy burns his hand and on his hand you can see the Gamestop logo.After this scene he says " because we are the same person" in pink captions which probably means that he is burning like everyone right now." I invest " with green because he is invested but also "deep fuck" with red because he gets fucked aswell."I am free" in orange i guess he could mean u could be financially free if you play it right."Kittys not here , kitty went away , kittys gone" he used red captions because ppl thought he left because the stock dropped hard but the captions after are " THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE" . "IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST NIGHT AT GME FIGHT CLUB" with red captions because its not the first time GME is that red , "you have to defend the bear thesis" defend = dont sell / buy to defend against the bears you can also see the cat against them. LOOK AT THOSE CAPTIONS BTW " you ARE INsane" he used CAPS for "ARE IN" and left the rest without caps.He is basically telling ppl to go in.You can see the Gamestop logo again before the end and the captions say " the movie goes on ".
I will continue tomorrow.

Many creationists believe that Homo neanderthalensis was simply humans with rickets disease, or were extremely old aged humans, or that they didn't exist at all, or literally anything other than what we know to be the case - a separate species of genus Homo (humans) that died out about 40,000 years ago.
Unfortunately for them, we have the full Neanderthal genome (2010), which showed 99.7% coding DNA similarity with Homo sapiens - for context, human-chimpanzee coding DNA similarity is 98.8% and variation within extant humans gives human-human similarity of ~99.9%. Of course, facts like these have proven to be no match against the creationists' trump card of 'nuh uh', so what else could we try?
SCNT-based cloning has been around for a while now, first widely publicised with the Dolly the Sheep experiment in 1996. It's improved to the point where creating healthy clones is not that difficult, and recently I learned that there are now consumer-facing businesses where they will clone people's pets so the owner's can have their beloved pets live again (by appearances only of course) in another body. In another story, cloning of primates is now just about feasible, with a rhesus macaque (an old world monkey) being most recent, still alive after 2 years. For these cloning experiments, the embryo is produced by fusing the nucleus of a cell from the desired organism with a vacant egg cell which can then be birthed from a surrogate mother.
In theory, since we have the Neanderthal genome, we could make the necessary 10 million point mutations to a stem cell from a human today (that would take a while), and use it to create a Neanderthal clone. The linked article points out that we would never be able to replicate the culture of the Neanderthals, and so many aspects of their lives would not be captured by this method, but their anatomy and skeletal morphology certainly would be, and we could show without a doubt that Neanderthals were their own separate species and not just defective people. Perhaps some brave soul would even be willing to test the theory that interbreeding between our species was relatively common..?
Of course, we are FAR beyond the realms of ethical science here and may well never happen. But what if? What would be the response to a live healthy adult Neanderthal standing right in front of you?

I'm giving one of my favorite book series a reread, and it's reminded me how interesting the setting of Roshar is. Also, it's been some time since I've done a long-lasting RP, so I'd love to run something in the complex and dangerous world of Roshar. Don't worry if your knowledge of the setting patchy or nonexistent as long as you're interested in a fantasy world full of mystery, politics, and magic.
About me some, you can call me Star. I'm 25, work a 9-5, and all my hobbies are the type of nerd stuff you'd expect. Fantasy, TTRPGs, Warhammer, MTG, all that jazz, haha. I'll be writing in 3rd person as I'm DMing and would prefer my partner does the same, and I generally shoot for 3 paragraph responses but that will often change as I really just write whatever needs written. Long responses to set up scenes or explain complicated scenarios, short responses for back and forth conversation, and such. I'm sure you get it. I can probably manage a few responses at work, but mostly, I'll be available between 6pm-2am EST on weekdays. Weekends are totally free for me, though.
I'm very open-ended for whatever character and story you may be interested in. It'll be something we can discuss later. I love telling people about one of my favorite book series, so if you need me to, I'll happily answer any questions you may have.
If you're interested, shoot me a DM, and we can move over to Discord to figure things out. Hope to hear from you all soon!

This is the first time I have written something of this length, and is more of an exercise in self-therapy than anything else. Disclaimer: This story contains conversations about child abuse. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it.
Nathan’s number appeared on my phone screen. I debated whether or not to answer it. We hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while, and while we did keep in touch sporadically, it was usually because of important family issues. I didn’t know of anything happening with mom or dad, nor with Talia or Rio, so I let it go to voicemail. I could always call him back later. I placed the phone back in my pocket, and returned to cleaning my camera. The phone buzzed again. A text message came through. I read the preview line from the home screen. “The city declared eminent domain on the house” I unlocked my phone, read the full text message, and dialed my brother.
I wasn't able to get any closer to the house than a few blocks. Most of the area was blocked off with chain link fencing and construction equipment in preparation for the demolition that was supposed to take place within the coming days. The barriers didn’t prevent people from walking in to the neighborhood, but it hindered scrappers from coming in and stripping the houses of copper wiring and plumbing.
I grabbed my camera bag out of the trunk of my car along with my tripod. I shouldered it and hooked the tripod to my bag. I pulled my water bottle out of the center console and shut the door. I stood next to my car surveying the neighborhood. 12 city blocks of old single family homes comprised the neighborhood where I grew up. Some of the houses had been empty for months, others for years. There was an eerie silence that permeated the still air. I could not hear the familiar sounds of people, pets, or cars. I locked the car and put my keys in my pocket. I patted my jacket down to ensure I had what I needed. After a quick check, I started my walk.
The sidewalk of the old neighborhood streets still bore the familiar cracks and grind marks from years of buckling and remedy. Leaves dropped by the trees still lay scattered all along the pathways and sidewalk. Korina’s house was the first house I encountered as I made my way through a gap in the fence. The yard was overgrown with tall grass and thistle. I could see the faded blue paint of the old house contrasting the green and browns of the lawn. The chain link fence that marked off the corner property was nearly invisible through the thick brush. As I continued walking west towards 110th, I started to feel something was off. The streets seemed wider than I remembered. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but eventually I realized what was different. There were no cars.
The streets here typically had cars lined bumper to bumper in any spot available, and were visible from block to block. The absence of all these vehicles made me realize just how deserted the neighborhood really was. House after house, yard after yard, the telltale signs of desertion reinforced what I could see from the moment I passed the construction fence: This was no longer my neighborhood. There were no signs of life, and no one I could expect to find still here. Abandonment was the new normal here. I continued on, glancing at houses and recalling memories of summer bike rides, and daily walks with dogs I used to have. I remembered walks home from school, and chasing after ice cream trucks when they passed our houses. I smiled a bit as I remembered more and more of my years spent here. I don’t quite know just why I was smiling. There were plenty of bad memories here too. Fights, yelling, being beat up, being robbed. I could remember failed friendships, lost loves, and bitter feelings of failures too.
Still, I felt a certain amount of nostalgia despite the weight of these negative feelings. I almost wanted to experience everything again, although I wasn't sure why I was feeling this way. Concrete, asphalt, billboards and liquor stores were the normal vistas of everyday life. Occasionally, after a good rainstorm, the grey haze of smog would lift, and the mountains would be visible to the north. At least, they would be visible until mid-morning when the exhaust from a million cars covered them behind a veil of pollution.
It wasn’t until the first time I travelled out of the city that I realized there was more to see. Traveling up the coast north along the Pacific Coast Highway introduced me to scenes of deep blue ocean water spanning the width of my vision. Driving up Highway 3 introduced me to the permeating scent of Pine and Fir trees. The two-lane stretch of highway from Portland to Tillamook introduced me to lush green forests that I had only ever read about. When I came home to the same old dirty, dusty concrete and boiling summer asphalt, I had made up my mind. I would do everything it took to leave this place. I would not spend another day longer than was necessary living in cramped quarters and fighting for parking space.
I arrived to the house, and paused at the gate. The house sat in contrast of what the rest of the neighborhood looked like. Instead of overgrown grass and tall weeds all over the place, the landscaping showed signs of relatively recent work. The guava tree in the front lawn still had some fruit ready to be picked, and the avocado tree on the other side of the pathway was still weighed down by its own fruit. Flowers still bloomed in the raised bed in front of the house. My brother had clearly tried to keep up on things until the last possible moment. The house, too, looked better than what I expected after walking up 4 blocks and seeing nothing but dilapidated houses and unkempt yards. I opened the gate and walked up to the small porch. The metal gate that enclosed it was gone having been removed by my brother when he took over the property. It looked nice to see it open instead of the cage it once felt like.
I turned the knob on the door, but it didn't give. Ever a creature of habit, my brother had locked the door when he left. Of course, he did. I sighed and prepared to find another way in when I remembered my parents hiding a spare key. I wasn’t sure if it would still be there, but after running my hands along the back side of the gutter downspout, I was rewarded for my efforts. I unlocked the front door and stepped into the front living room, the sounds of my footsteps and the closing door echoing in the empty space. The room felt both larger and smaller than I remembered it. I suppose it was lack of furniture that made it feel larger, but it still felt smaller than I remember. The result of growing taller throughout the years I suppose. I slowly walked along the slate tile floor towards the central hallway that connected the front of the house to the back bedrooms. I wasn't entirely sure that just because the front door was locked, that there wasn't some squatter looking for a little temporary shelter within the back rooms. I carefully and silently crept step by step towards what used to be the bedroom shared by my sister and me. I stuck my head in and gave the room a cursory glance. It was empty, thankfully. I moved back into the hallway and peered into the bedroom across the hall. This is where both of my brothers had shared a room. It too, was empty save for a few boxes holding hardware and doorknobs from the closet doors of the bedroom. I walked back towards the back of the house where my parent's bedroom was. The walls in the hallway bore the dusty signs where picture once hung. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside, and looked around. The old avocado paint that my mom had picked out years ago still adorned the walls. Walking further towards the addition that was the small room my grandma and grandpa lived in showed that there was no one here. I breathed a sigh of relief as I set my bag down and set up my tripod. I reached into my bag a pulled out an envelope of old photos. These were old snapshots that we had all taken at some point in time in the house. There were pictures of all of us sitting at the dining room table playing a game of Monopoly. There was a picture of my brother and sister sitting on a couch in the front living room. There was a picture of me hanging on the bars of the front porch. I looked through them all and held them in place in front of me as if I were holding a window to the past.
Each picture made the lump in my throat grow as I started to struggle to control my emotions. There was history here, and soon it would all be gone. This is the place where my parents had raised four kids. They had taken care of my grandparents in their twilight years here. My Aunt and my grandmother had both died in this house. Birthdays, graduation parties, and anniversaries had been celebrated here. The echoes of life had reverberated within the walls of this place. Now, the house sat silent. It would never again know happy screams of kids having a water-balloon war out in the front yard, nor would it hear the cries of anguish as the matriarch of the family passed away surrounded by her family. What once was a home full of life was now just an empty house made of drywall and paint. I sat there for a moment contemplating just how much family history was actually made here. As I thought hard about my siblings and my parents, I felt pained at the thought of our strained relationships. We had all scattered once we had the opportunity to be free of each other. My oldest brother had married and moved away as soon as possible. My sister now lived in northern California. My parents too had moved away. I was now living in Utah. Only my older brother had remained behind. The lump grew larger in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I held back sobs of anger and pain. Why was I hurting? Hadn’t I dealt with these issues already? I walked back to my old bedroom and sat down under the window. I pulled my head down into my knees and cried. I could hear yelling and screaming in my head. Shouting matches between siblings and parents, brothers and sister, rattled inside my brain, making the pain grow. I sat there and cried. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Eventually I ran out of tears and tired gasps of sorrow and regret washed over me as a blanket of drowsiness enveloped me. I leaned my head back and fell asleep.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing and hurriedly stood up. Had someone followed me? I knew the police were patrolling the area sporadically. Had they seen me enter the house? I knew there would be a possibility of getting a trespassing citation, but I figured I could either talk my way out of it seeing as to how I was a former resident, or I could probably fight the citation in court if the judge knew why I was there in the first place. Ultimately, passing through the gate had been a calculated risk that I was willing to take for the sake of my art. I got up from my corner of the room and moved towards the door. If there was someone in the house, I needed to know. I didn’t want my gear to stolen, and if there was a cop in the house, I wanted to ensure I didn’t get shot.
I was greeted by the sight of a startled chubby boy standing on the other side of the door. His round cherubic face was crowned by a head of short curly hair. His hazel green eyes stared widely back at me. He clearly didn’t expect someone to be here in the house. His body recoiled in fear as he cowered back towards the hallway. “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked as non-threateningly as I could. The boy muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you” I replied. “Are you here to rob us?” he timidly responded. “Rob you? What are you talking about?” I asked as confusion set in. “What are you doing here?” It was his turn to be confused. “Uh…I….live here?” he replied. “What do you mean you live here? No one lives-“I stopped midsentence. I hadn’t noticed in my initial shock but the room wasn’t the same. A familiar blue couch caught the corner of my eye. In front of that was an old console TV with a partially broken antenna hanging on the wall behind it. I walked further in to the living room to notice wood paneling on the walls. A large mirror hung on the wall to my left. Familiar yellow lamps sat on round drop-leaf tables on either side of the couch. A large hutch sat in one corner, a collection of letters and bills, mail advertisements, and a phone book covered scattered over it. “What just happened?” I asked out loud to no one in particular. I was thoroughly mystified by what my eyes were seeing. I had walked into the house from the front door and had stepped into an empty white room with slate floor tiles, but somehow now found myself in a furnished room with brown carpet that was all so familiar to me, yet was nothing but a distant faded memory. I turned to look at the boy still startled by the intrusion of a strange man looking wildly around the room in total shock.
“You can take what you want, just please let me go. I don’t want problems.” He stated his voice still shrill with anxiety. I blinked a few times as I tried to process just what the heck was going on. I gathered my thoughts as best I could and tried to reassure him. “Kid, I’m not here to rob anyone. I was just-“I shook my head “Where the hell am I? Am I having a dream?” I asked myself. “I must be dreaming. I’m just tired and still sleeping. This is all a dream. Yeah, that’s it.” I needed to sit down. Being back in the old house must have overtaxed my senses, I told myself. I’d having a dream about an old memory. I walked over to the chair next to the couch and sat down. I sunk into it and rested my head back towards the wall.
The boy kept his distance, but sensed I wasn’t there to hurt him. He looked me over with anxious curiosity. He stood at the far end of the couch, examining me while he played out scenarios in his head in preparation for a quick exit. “Why are you in my house?” he asked me. “Dude, this is all just a dream I’m having. I’m not really here.” He reached over to the couch and picked up a pillow. He reared his arm and threw it at me. It landed in my lap. “I don’t know, man. You sure seem to be here.” He said to me. I opened my eyes, startled. I looked down at the pillow he tossed and examined it. I ran my hand over the fabric and felt its texture. I remember this pillow. This was the pillow I would roll under my head as I lay on the couch and watched TV as a kid. A sudden realization hit me as I looked around the room with fresh eyes. No longer was I blinded by the fog of confusion. I knew exactly where I was.
I was home.
I looked at the boy still standing at the edge of the couch. I looked him over and realized who he actually was. I stared in disbelief as I smiled and tried to put him at ease. “It’s ok Johnny. I’m not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Please, sit down” I told him. I motioned to his end of the couch. “Who are you, and why are you here?” he asked me.
“This will be hard to believe, but I’m you” I said with an incredulous tone, “I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I’m here.” He looked at me as I had grown a second head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could you be me? Did we invent time travel? Oh! Are we secret government agents with the CIA?”
I chuckled. “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s start at the beginning. I’m you at 38 years old. You’re…what, 11… 12 years old? It makes sense. I fell asleep under the window in my- our old bedroom. I didn’t come here on purpose or in a machine. And no, I’m not a government agent.” His face contorted to display understanding, disappointment and finally suspicion. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards me. “How do I know you’re really me?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment. How could I prove to him that I was who I said I was? A few seconds of silence settled between us. I stroked my chin, thinking of a solution.
“I have a better idea. Ask me questions that only you know the answers to.” “Okay” he responded. He glanced around the room trying to come up with something. His eyes fixated on the Nintendo sitting under the TV cabinet. “What game do me and Nathan have a map of?” I looked over at the NES. I hadn’t thought about this for years, but I knew instantly what he was asking. “YOU don’t have anything. Nathan is the one that made the map for Section Z” His jaw dropped. He tried to trick me, but his plan failed. He knew well and good that Nathan never let him play. It was always ‘I’ll let you play when I die’ or, ‘you can play when I’m done’. The problem was that he never followed through. Usually by the time Nathan was done, the NES was overheated, and the game would no longer load until it cooled down. By that point, it was time for bed.
“How do you know that?” he asked in astonishment. “I know these things because I’m you. Just like I know that you wear t-shirts to the pool because you’re embarrassed by what others will think of your body. I know that you used to think that people that die off in movies were prisoners that were set to be executed from death row, so they used them for making movies. I know all about you because I’m you”
Johnny sat on the end of the couch in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He had never told anyone any of this. He didn’t have any close friends to talk to about such things, and those friends he did have were more acquaintances than friends. There was only one way he could possibly know these things. He was talking to his future self.
I could see Johnny’s mind completely explode. There lay endless possibility and the answers to a million questions he could ask about his own future. He started to ask a question, only to stop, close his mouth, and try asking another. I knew if he kept this up he would have a stroke or something. “Dude, calm yourself. Let’s talk this out rationally, otherwise you’ll end up stroking out or something.” I told him. He took a deep breath and I could hear him muttering quietly. I knew he was trying to form a coherent sentence before he actually spoke it. I did it all the time. “Ok, first of all, are we rich?” he asked with tempered expectation. I chuckled and grinned back at him. “No, not at all. If I was rich, would I be dressed like this?” I replied as I motioned to my beat up brown Vans and worn out jeans and T-shirt. “We-, I – make enough to get by. I’m not poor, but I earn enough to pay the bills.” His face grew a smirk as he commented “Yeah, I figured. What do I do for work? I mean, what do you do for work?” I thought about it for a second. I wondered how much information I should divulge to a younger me. I still didn’t think this whole situation was really happening, but if it was, I probably should proceed with caution. “Well, it’s complicated. I do a little bit of everything. You know how you’re constantly taking things apart? Let’s just say that it’s good to put them back together in order to keep them working. Take good notes on paper if you need to, and make sure you have a clean work area so you can keep track of all the parts.” He gave me a sheepish look. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I had spent countless hours sneaking dad’s tools to my room so I could figure out how something was built and try to figure out how it worked. I had gotten myself into some pretty bad trouble with dad over a drill, his timing light, and other stuff I had taken from his room. His belt had become quite familiar with my butt cheeks.
I gave him a knowing smile. “What else do you want to know?” He thought about it for a second. “Do we have a girlfriend?” I laughed, probably a little more than I should have because his face contorted into a sour frown. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it” he scowled. I continued to chuckle. “Yeah we have a girlfriend. We have more than a girlfriend” I could tell he was irritated with my vague indirect answers. I knew what he was asking. I remember the crush I had on my neighbor across the street. We had been friends since kindergarten, and had been classmates for 1st, 2nd, and 4th grades. We got along really well, and I knew from around 12 or 13 that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, things never progressed beyond the ‘just friends’ stage of things. It wasn’t from lack of effort on my part. We had just grown up together most of our lives that she didn’t see me as anything more than a brother and friend. “Dude, look. You just started to go through changes and you are starting to notice girls, but that doesn’t mean that you need to love every girl that shows you a little kindness or subtle interest. You need to slow down and let things happen naturally. You can’t force a relationship with someone.” Johnny pondered these words for a moment. I sat back and put my feet up on the coffee table. I looked around the room some more while I waited for another question. There was so much I had forgotten, but being back here had unlocked more and more memories that continued to wash over me. I was trying to hold on to my cool as not all those churned up recollections were pleasant. I stood up and walked over to the front door to peer outside the small central window embedded into the center of it. I could see the old neighborhood as I remembered it all those years ago. The lot across the street that served as a parking area for those that worked at the wheel works at the end of the block was empty of cars. I furrowed my brow as I thought for a moment. An empty lot meant it was afterhours or the weekend.
The gears in my own head started turning. “Wait, where is everyone?” I asked Johnny. Johnny turned to look at me still processing my last response. “Uh..oh, Mom and dad are out of town. They took a trip east this time. I think Rio said they are in Arizona right now. Rio and Nathan went out to get some food and to rent some movies from Video Showcase. Knowing them they’ll eat out first. Talia is staying over at Tia Rosie’s place today with her friends.” I grunted at his response. My mind was wandering as he mentioned Talia and Tia Rosie.
A sudden sharp pain pieced my heart. The pain of a thousand memories now unsealed spilled out from the box I had locked them away in. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes as I turned back to look at Johnny. He felt it too. He stared at the floor with an intensity that made me think it would burst into flames at any moment. I walked back over to him and sat next to him. He didn’t move. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he threw himself into me. I could feel the tears dripping onto me as he sobbed intensely. “Hey man, its ok. It’s going to be ok.” I said as my own tears started to flow uncontrollably. I pulled him close and draped my other arm around him.
I knew the pain he was feeling. It was such a heavy burden, and I knew there was no one he felt he could talk to. I remembered it all so vividly. We sat there for what seemed to be an eternity. When we finally stopped sobbing, and our noses ran dry, we tried to breathe our way through to calmness. I got up and knelt in front of him. “Johnny, listen to me and remember what it is that I’m about to say to you. You are stronger than you think. You are stronger than you believe. NO ONE should ever have to go through this. Just because it happened to Talia, doesn’t mean you have to put up with it any longer. I know you didn’t think it was wrong, but I’m telling you that what she is doing to you is wrong. Talking to mom and dad isn’t going to make them hate you. You are not doing this to her, she is doing it to you. I’m not making excuses for her, but she is also more damaged than anyone realizes, and she is also dealing with the same level of pain you are. Remember that we do unto others what has been done to us. That doesn’t mean we need to continue the cycle of abuse” The lump in my throat grew immense at my own statement. I swallowed it as best I could and continued “You are going to deal with this pain a little bit at a time, and you’ll slowly get over this. It’s like a broken bone. When it happens, you don’t realize how bad the pain is until the adrenaline wears off, but then the immense pain is there. Just remember that this will pass. Just like a broken bone, you will heal over time, and one day, you will realize that the pain is gone and the bone is no longer broken. You’ll remember the pain, but it won’t hurt anymore.”
Johnny sat there in stunned silence. I knew he didn’t have anyone to help him through this. He couldn’t talk to Rio or Nathan about what was going on. Mom and Dad were constantly working to keep the family fed and sheltered and while they provided materially for their kids, emotional help was less available. Perhaps it was due to their energies being divided into 4 kids, a mortgage and multiple jobs, or perhaps it was also the culture of not talking about problems. Either way, they needed to know what was happening. They wouldn’t be able to fix it otherwise. “They’re going to be mad at me” he finally said after a few moments of silence. “No they won’t be. They love us all. I know you’re not used to hearing it, but they do love you. Everything they do is because of their love for us. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Telling them isn’t going to cause them to be angry.” I thought for a moment to find a good analogy. “You love Odie and Lady, right?” He nodded in agreement. “Ok, how would you feel if you knew someone you trusted was coming to the house and beating up our dogs when we weren’t around?” He thought about it for a second before his face changed to anger. “I’d want to kill them!” “Yes, but would you also feel sad that you weren’t there to try to protect them?” I reasoned. His face changed again. He understood what I was saying. Mom and Dad would be angry, but not necessarily at him. They would also feel a great sadness knowing that someone was hurting their child.
I smiled at him. He understood. I nodded. “Dude…You’re going to come to understand that life is not what you think it will be. Life is messy and can change in an instant. The plans you make today may not make it to next week. A lifelong goal can be derailed because of something out of your control. Mom and dad have spent their life protecting us with the goal of keeping us safe, but circumstances out of their control have affected their kids, and now we- you all have to deal with the fallout. Just remember that you are not the culprit. Yes, mom and dad will be hurt and angry, but not at you. Trust them. They don’t do things to hurt us” Johnny hugged me. I- He didn’t have many people he could trust and open up to. He liked to talk a lot about everything going on in his life, no matter how trivial. Everything, except this. This was a shameful topic, and he didn’t feel like anyone would understand why he didn’t go to an adult sooner. The problem was simple. He simply didn’t understand that it was wrong. Now that he had an adult that he could talk to, himself no less, he wanted to lift this burden off his shoulders. He was happy to have found someone and he hugged me tightly. I hugged him back just at tightly. It wasn’t every day that I could meet my younger self and help to comfort them. “Thank you” he said to me.
The world darkened, and everything faded to black.
I lifted my head out of my knees and looked around. I was sitting under the window in my old bedroom again. Had I fallen asleep? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. I was emotionally drained and incredibly tired. I hadn’t had sleep like that in years. I got to my feet and looked around the room briefly before walking out to mom and dad’s old room. I grabbed my camera and slowly walked the house, snapping picture after picture. The only sound to be heard was the sound of the camera shutter and my soft footsteps. I thought about my dream as I took pictures.
Upon entering my room, a random memory hit me.
The stash.
I was pretty sure I had taken the hidden box when I moved out all those years ago, but since I was here, I should double check. Heading into the closet, I pushed the panel that led to the attic space out of the way and peered in. I couldn’t see anything, so I reached up there to feel around. The box was indeed gone. I felt around for a few more seconds and was surprised to feel what felt like a thick envelope. I didn’t remember leaving anything up there, but after pulling it down and giving it a cursory glance, I figured it was an old envelope of lost love letters. It wasn’t until I blew off the thick layer of dust that I realized what I was holding. It was a letter. Not just any letter. It was addressed to me.
Under the now semi-cleared layer of dust were the words “To be opened by future me”. I looked at it for a few moments before opening it. I couldn’t remember making this at all, much less storing it up in my secret hiding spot. If ever I hid something, it was in the stash box. My hands shook a bit as I started to open the envelope and pulled out the yellowed pages inside. I started reading.
"Dear Future John. I have spent the last few years remembering a dream I had when I was younger. Life was…difficult at that time, and I spent a lot of time escaping my reality by reading a lot of books and watching a lot of TV. On the off-chance that what I think is a dream really happened. I wanted to write some things down in an effort to give you my thanks. I merely consider myself a conveyer of thanks, although I will pile on my own thanks to you for your words of encouragement. I remember finding a stranger in the house one day while I was home alone. I was afraid he was there to hurt me at first, but after a few moments, I came to realize I was meeting myself. Well, I was meeting me, but from the future. I think he said he was in his 40’s, but I couldn’t tell you with any certainty. Either way, we talked. We talked about life, and what the future held in store for us…
Mostly though, we talked about the abuse. Well, Talked is being generous. We cried, and then we talked. I don’t remember exactly what he told me, but I remember how he made me feel. He made me feel safe. I felt like I could trust him. Trust myself. In the end, he gave me the courage to stand up for myself both at home and at school. He also gave me the courage to talk to mom and dad about what was going on between me and Talia. I do remember being afraid that I would be punished, but he reassured me that they wouldn’t, and that they loved me.
It was a difficult and awkward conversation, but in the end, arrangements were made for me to share a room with Rio and Nathan. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Talia for a long while, but after some years, we managed to patch things up. She apologized to me, and I came to understand the abuse she herself was subjected to by so-called family friends. She didn’t tell me this in an effort to excuse it, but to merely help give me closure to a difficult time from my own childhood. Mom and dad promised to be more attentive to us and we sort of established what I guess you would call an open door policy. We talk more about stuff that’s happening in our lives. Mom is much easier to talk to now. Dad is a little more patient with us too. I apologized to them for not coming to them sooner, and dad gave me a “nugget of wisdom” that I think I’ll live by: We can’t fix what we don’t know is broken. I’ve tried to make sure I talk to them when something is wrong, and I’ve tried to implement that in my life so I don’t have problems with other people.
I’m trying to grow up to be a good guy. I want to have good relationships with people. Nathan says I’m turning into a people pleaser, but I don’t necessarily see that as a terrible thing. I know when to say no to someone. Well, either way, I wanted to make sure I thank you for the help you gave us. I probably won’t remember writing this, but I hope I do find it again someday. Here’s hoping I turn into the man I feel you are. -John Age 16."
I stared at the letter, the words blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. I quickly brushed them away as I quietly spoke to no one in particular. “Thanks guys. I hope I live up to your expectations” I folded the letter, placed it in my pocket, and walked out of the room. After picking up my backpack and tripod, I silently walked towards the front door, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I turned to look back at the empty living room one last time, and after a moment, I walked out.

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