The neighbors they adored him for his humor
r/PoliticalHumor 2024: The Sequel Nobody Asked For
2008.09.04 01:02 r/PoliticalHumor 2024: The Sequel Nobody Asked For
A subreddit focused on US politics, and the ridiculousness surrounding them.
2012.03.12 22:01 ElderCunningham News Of The Stupid
Did you hear about the man who butt-dialed 911 while drunk driving? How about the teenagers who carjacked a car, only to fail because neither of them could drive stick? Welcome to /NewsOfTheStupid, a subreddit created for news stories just like these, proving that humanity is on a downward spiral
2019.02.21 22:44 The Eminence In Shadow - To Be a Power in the Shadows! - Kage no Jitsuryokusha ni Naritakute!
The Eminence in Shadow - To Be a Power in the Shadows! - Kage no Jitsuryokusha ni Naritakute!
2024.05.16 20:45 QuillAndTrowel Of Our Own Device
Bill Rogers locked the garage door, slid the hose into the driver’s side window, climbed into the back seat, laid down and shut his eyes. When he woke up, he was surrounded by clouds and a blue sky. A man, neither young nor old stood next to him. He wore a coat like an Afghan goat herder, Bill thought, maybe made of sheepskin, or cowhide—tough to say, as Bill was no expert in husbandry. The man was small where Bill was large. Bill was six-three and two hundred and fifty pounds. He had played tight-end in college and lorded his physical stature over small men all his life. He felt it gave him an advantage at contract negotiations. He always made sure to be sitting when the opposing lawyers walked in because his size was hidden. Then he would stand up from behind table—a great reveal, a physical imposition—in an effortless attempt to intimidate the other team. It was mostly an effective strategy. The man, nearly a foot shorter, and a petite lady’s-weight less was standing almost eye-level with Bill. He sheepishly looked at Bill and asked if he was happy now.
“I suppose so,” Bill answered, rather dazed and unaware of all that was happening. “Are you God?” asked Bill. The old man smiled knowingly and set his delicate hand on Bill’s shoulder. “What can I do to make you comfortable?” Bill attempted to stand up but the man’s hand held him in place without applying any extra force. “A scotch would be nice! Do they serve scotch in heaven?” he laughed. The man laughed and gave Bill a scotch.
“Let me tell you, God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it! When do we go through the pearly gates?”
“I’m afraid you’ve seen too many Hollywood movies. That’s not how it works. Tell me, how was life on Earth?”
“Well, I guess you can tell by how I checked out it wasn’t great. But I am feeling better now. Sometimes you just need a good night’s sleep, I guess, right?”
“I guess so. You weren’t very happy down there. But that’s what I’m here for. You can fix it all now. Tell me, what went wrong in your life?”
“Wait, is this Purgatory then?”
He chuckled, “No. Don’t be silly. What went wrong down there?”
“I knew it—those nuns were all off. Well, for one, I worked too much. I spent 80, 90, 100 hours a week every week for years—hell, probably decades when you add it all up—in the office, chasing the ring, getting the promotion.” His thought broke and he looked at the man and said, “you know I cleared 950-k last year?” Sinking back into his thoughts, “but it wasn’t enough for her. She could give Cleopatra a run for her money. Man she could spend. I worked all the time, always on the road to a different client’s office, eating airport food, never exercising. Traded my health and youth for wealth, then she got to enjoy it. I ended up all alone in my big house, all by myself and my LonelyFans Platinum subscription. Look at me, I got so fat no pretty woman could stand to look at me. If I could do it again, I’d go back and just make 60k a year, keep my health, my good looks, and go to clubs every night and dance with beautiful women. I wasted so much.”
“Wow, thanks for being so honest, Bill. I’m glad you were honest, because now I can give you the chance to fix it. I am going to give you the opportunity to craft the life you always wanted, the life you dreamed of! This is your chance Bill, to do it right this time. You had a full life, you tried out things: some worked, some didn’t—that trip to Tokyo probably didn’t help your marriage, did it; but now that’s all behind, now you get to create the perfect one based on everything you learned. Now you get to play God to yourself. You will have the power to create any life you want: money, women, food, servants, power, glory, the revenge on everybody who did you wrong—anything.”
“Oh, Good Lord, heaven is even better than Mother Superior led on! I get to do that? Now?”
“Yes, I’m granting you this power. Total freedom to do what you want. You deserve it! You’ve earned it, Bill.”
“Ok, so what do I do? Just point and make something happen?”
“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “everybody always wants to point at things like some Vegas magician. The entire creation was spoken into existence, but ever since Adam people want to point things into existence—whatever makes them happy, I guess. Anyway, you’ve got the power of the Lord, do it however you want!”
Bill pointed to a cloud in front of him and a new truck appeared before his eyes. “Holy moly, I can’t believe it’s real.” The sun reflecting off the chrome was just a big blur to Bill Rogers water-filled eyes. He had to squint to see that it had the turbodiesel engine he had imagined. “I’m not going to get carried away on the wealth. I learned my lesson there. It doesn’t buy happiness. I had eight digits in my savings account,” he looked to see if the man was listening, “and look at where that got me. No, just a simple life for me,” he pointed to a cloud and four-bed, three-bath house with in-law suite and three car garage next to a lush green lawn appeared. It fronted a cul-de-sac. “You can’t take it with you, right?” he laughed.
“Is that it, Bill? What else do you want?”
“Well, like I said, I want to be young and healthy.” His stomach disappeared into his abdominal muscles and the brown spots and wrinkles on his hands vanished into a smooth clear skin.
“And what are you going to do with your time? Go back to your old job?”
“Ohh, you got a good sense of humor, God!” The old man laughed along with Bill. “Like I said, I just want to live a normal life and go to the bars at night, talk to beautiful women. Dance with them, smile, laugh. Have fun, that’s all.”
“Your wish, is my command,” he said, and Bill asked if that is how it really worked, and the old man laughed: “no, but people really started to ask for it after Aladdin got big, so I started doing it.”
“You’re a real people-pleaser, aren’t you, God?”
The small man’s sheepish smile resurfaced and a faint pink tint rose up to his pale cheeks.
“That is it for now, enjoy your new life, Bill. I’ll be back to check on you after a while.”
“Thanks, God, you really are great.”
“Oh, wait, one more thing—I almost forgot. In your newly made, perfect, heavenly life— do you want your children here?”
Bill let out a huge laugh, “of course! How could I forget! Yes, of course, I want to see my children! Not every day—and don’t have the Queen of Sheba bring ‘em by either, if you know what I mean,” he nudged the old man with his elbow, almost knocking his small frame over, “but yes I always regretted not having more time with the kids.”
“Great, I’ll make that happen. I’ll be ba-a-a-a-a-ck,” he said as he turned around.
A door appeared out of nowhere and the old man glided over to it, with his sheepskin coat dragging behind him. The door opened and he walked through it. It began to close, but his coat got caught in the door, and he had to reach back and yank it through. As the coat flew up, Bill thought he saw the tip of a German Sheppard’s tail and wondered if the dog had been there all along, but soon didn’t care as he saw his new neighbor, a young blonde woman in yoga pants and high heels getting into her Mercedes coupe. He tried to get her attention, but she was focused on fixing her lipstick and hair in the mirror as she drove away.
Bill settled down into his new life, got comfortable in his small house and extended cab truck, and began going out to bars and clubs, just as he had imagined. Every night there was a bar to go to filled with beautiful women, and they all were happy to let him buy drinks and chat for a while. Sometimes he would invite one or two to dance and they’d agree, and then disappear with their friends. Other times he would meet a young woman in pub and talk to her; they’d laugh and joke and maybe she would give him her number and maybe not. But he never saw the same woman twice. If he called or texted a woman, she never responded. If he asked a woman if she’d like to go somewhere for coffee she always declined and said she had to get back home.
On the rare chance that a woman did sit down and talk with him, the conversation was always the same: polite introductions, niceties, some flirtatious exchanges. He tried to talk to the beautiful women about life, what they wanted, what mattered to them, but they all just said they liked to have fun to some degree or another.
After three weeks of going to the bars and trying to talk to women, Bill got tired of going out. He stayed at home for a week, then he tried to find his neighbor again. He saw her car in the drive and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. He only ever saw her driving away.
After a couple slow weeks, he tried going out again, but it was the same routine: a few drinks, a few laughs, nothing to talk about and goodbye, never to be seen again. Bill sat in his truck in the garage and contemplated his after-life. He wiped a tear from his cheek and heard someone knocking on his front door. He let the old man in, and Bill sat down at the barstool.
“Can I take your coat?”
“No, I like to keep it on. I came by to see how you are doing?”
“This isn’t what I thought heaven would be like,” said Bill, hunched forward, hands between his legs, staring at the floor.”
“Heaven?” said the old man, looking up at Bill. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Who are you?”
The old man took off the sheepskin coat and Bill saw the gray and white fur all over his body. The gray tail dragged on the floor, and the old man’s face looked like the snout of a grey wolf.
“This is your own doing, Bill. You made the life you wanted. You’ve had two chances now. This one you are stuck with, forever. No escaping. No crying, no laying down in the back of your truck for eternal sleep. This is the eternal sleep.”
“This is hell.”
“Call it what you will.”
The wolf got down on all fours and walked to the door. “Can you let me out?”
Bill opened the door and the wolf ran outside, almost knocking over the two people walking up Bill’s sidewalk.
“What are you doing here,” he shouted at them.
“We came to see you!”
“No! Get away! Get out of here, go! Go!”
The woman was getting in her Mercedes and looked over to see what the ruckus was about, but then looked away before making eye contact.
“Dad, we missed you! So, we followed you here. The old man told us how to find you! He asked us what our perfect life would be, and we told him ‘we just want to be with our Dad.’”
***
Follow u/quillandtrowel for more at Medium & Twitter (links in bio!).
submitted by QuillAndTrowel to FictionWriting [link] [comments]
“I suppose so,” Bill answered, rather dazed and unaware of all that was happening. “Are you God?” asked Bill. The old man smiled knowingly and set his delicate hand on Bill’s shoulder. “What can I do to make you comfortable?” Bill attempted to stand up but the man’s hand held him in place without applying any extra force. “A scotch would be nice! Do they serve scotch in heaven?” he laughed. The man laughed and gave Bill a scotch.
“Let me tell you, God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it! When do we go through the pearly gates?”
“I’m afraid you’ve seen too many Hollywood movies. That’s not how it works. Tell me, how was life on Earth?”
“Well, I guess you can tell by how I checked out it wasn’t great. But I am feeling better now. Sometimes you just need a good night’s sleep, I guess, right?”
“I guess so. You weren’t very happy down there. But that’s what I’m here for. You can fix it all now. Tell me, what went wrong in your life?”
“Wait, is this Purgatory then?”
He chuckled, “No. Don’t be silly. What went wrong down there?”
“I knew it—those nuns were all off. Well, for one, I worked too much. I spent 80, 90, 100 hours a week every week for years—hell, probably decades when you add it all up—in the office, chasing the ring, getting the promotion.” His thought broke and he looked at the man and said, “you know I cleared 950-k last year?” Sinking back into his thoughts, “but it wasn’t enough for her. She could give Cleopatra a run for her money. Man she could spend. I worked all the time, always on the road to a different client’s office, eating airport food, never exercising. Traded my health and youth for wealth, then she got to enjoy it. I ended up all alone in my big house, all by myself and my LonelyFans Platinum subscription. Look at me, I got so fat no pretty woman could stand to look at me. If I could do it again, I’d go back and just make 60k a year, keep my health, my good looks, and go to clubs every night and dance with beautiful women. I wasted so much.”
“Wow, thanks for being so honest, Bill. I’m glad you were honest, because now I can give you the chance to fix it. I am going to give you the opportunity to craft the life you always wanted, the life you dreamed of! This is your chance Bill, to do it right this time. You had a full life, you tried out things: some worked, some didn’t—that trip to Tokyo probably didn’t help your marriage, did it; but now that’s all behind, now you get to create the perfect one based on everything you learned. Now you get to play God to yourself. You will have the power to create any life you want: money, women, food, servants, power, glory, the revenge on everybody who did you wrong—anything.”
“Oh, Good Lord, heaven is even better than Mother Superior led on! I get to do that? Now?”
“Yes, I’m granting you this power. Total freedom to do what you want. You deserve it! You’ve earned it, Bill.”
“Ok, so what do I do? Just point and make something happen?”
“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “everybody always wants to point at things like some Vegas magician. The entire creation was spoken into existence, but ever since Adam people want to point things into existence—whatever makes them happy, I guess. Anyway, you’ve got the power of the Lord, do it however you want!”
Bill pointed to a cloud in front of him and a new truck appeared before his eyes. “Holy moly, I can’t believe it’s real.” The sun reflecting off the chrome was just a big blur to Bill Rogers water-filled eyes. He had to squint to see that it had the turbodiesel engine he had imagined. “I’m not going to get carried away on the wealth. I learned my lesson there. It doesn’t buy happiness. I had eight digits in my savings account,” he looked to see if the man was listening, “and look at where that got me. No, just a simple life for me,” he pointed to a cloud and four-bed, three-bath house with in-law suite and three car garage next to a lush green lawn appeared. It fronted a cul-de-sac. “You can’t take it with you, right?” he laughed.
“Is that it, Bill? What else do you want?”
“Well, like I said, I want to be young and healthy.” His stomach disappeared into his abdominal muscles and the brown spots and wrinkles on his hands vanished into a smooth clear skin.
“And what are you going to do with your time? Go back to your old job?”
“Ohh, you got a good sense of humor, God!” The old man laughed along with Bill. “Like I said, I just want to live a normal life and go to the bars at night, talk to beautiful women. Dance with them, smile, laugh. Have fun, that’s all.”
“Your wish, is my command,” he said, and Bill asked if that is how it really worked, and the old man laughed: “no, but people really started to ask for it after Aladdin got big, so I started doing it.”
“You’re a real people-pleaser, aren’t you, God?”
The small man’s sheepish smile resurfaced and a faint pink tint rose up to his pale cheeks.
“That is it for now, enjoy your new life, Bill. I’ll be back to check on you after a while.”
“Thanks, God, you really are great.”
“Oh, wait, one more thing—I almost forgot. In your newly made, perfect, heavenly life— do you want your children here?”
Bill let out a huge laugh, “of course! How could I forget! Yes, of course, I want to see my children! Not every day—and don’t have the Queen of Sheba bring ‘em by either, if you know what I mean,” he nudged the old man with his elbow, almost knocking his small frame over, “but yes I always regretted not having more time with the kids.”
“Great, I’ll make that happen. I’ll be ba-a-a-a-a-ck,” he said as he turned around.
A door appeared out of nowhere and the old man glided over to it, with his sheepskin coat dragging behind him. The door opened and he walked through it. It began to close, but his coat got caught in the door, and he had to reach back and yank it through. As the coat flew up, Bill thought he saw the tip of a German Sheppard’s tail and wondered if the dog had been there all along, but soon didn’t care as he saw his new neighbor, a young blonde woman in yoga pants and high heels getting into her Mercedes coupe. He tried to get her attention, but she was focused on fixing her lipstick and hair in the mirror as she drove away.
Bill settled down into his new life, got comfortable in his small house and extended cab truck, and began going out to bars and clubs, just as he had imagined. Every night there was a bar to go to filled with beautiful women, and they all were happy to let him buy drinks and chat for a while. Sometimes he would invite one or two to dance and they’d agree, and then disappear with their friends. Other times he would meet a young woman in pub and talk to her; they’d laugh and joke and maybe she would give him her number and maybe not. But he never saw the same woman twice. If he called or texted a woman, she never responded. If he asked a woman if she’d like to go somewhere for coffee she always declined and said she had to get back home.
On the rare chance that a woman did sit down and talk with him, the conversation was always the same: polite introductions, niceties, some flirtatious exchanges. He tried to talk to the beautiful women about life, what they wanted, what mattered to them, but they all just said they liked to have fun to some degree or another.
After three weeks of going to the bars and trying to talk to women, Bill got tired of going out. He stayed at home for a week, then he tried to find his neighbor again. He saw her car in the drive and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. He only ever saw her driving away.
After a couple slow weeks, he tried going out again, but it was the same routine: a few drinks, a few laughs, nothing to talk about and goodbye, never to be seen again. Bill sat in his truck in the garage and contemplated his after-life. He wiped a tear from his cheek and heard someone knocking on his front door. He let the old man in, and Bill sat down at the barstool.
“Can I take your coat?”
“No, I like to keep it on. I came by to see how you are doing?”
“This isn’t what I thought heaven would be like,” said Bill, hunched forward, hands between his legs, staring at the floor.”
“Heaven?” said the old man, looking up at Bill. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Who are you?”
The old man took off the sheepskin coat and Bill saw the gray and white fur all over his body. The gray tail dragged on the floor, and the old man’s face looked like the snout of a grey wolf.
“This is your own doing, Bill. You made the life you wanted. You’ve had two chances now. This one you are stuck with, forever. No escaping. No crying, no laying down in the back of your truck for eternal sleep. This is the eternal sleep.”
“This is hell.”
“Call it what you will.”
The wolf got down on all fours and walked to the door. “Can you let me out?”
Bill opened the door and the wolf ran outside, almost knocking over the two people walking up Bill’s sidewalk.
“What are you doing here,” he shouted at them.
“We came to see you!”
“No! Get away! Get out of here, go! Go!”
The woman was getting in her Mercedes and looked over to see what the ruckus was about, but then looked away before making eye contact.
“Dad, we missed you! So, we followed you here. The old man told us how to find you! He asked us what our perfect life would be, and we told him ‘we just want to be with our Dad.’”
***
Follow u/quillandtrowel for more at Medium & Twitter (links in bio!).
2024.05.16 20:42 QuillAndTrowel [MF] Of Our Own Device
Bill Rogers locked the garage door, slid the hose into the driver’s side window, climbed into the back seat, laid down and shut his eyes. When he woke up, he was surrounded by clouds and a blue sky. A man, neither young nor old stood next to him. He wore a coat like an Afghan goat herder, Bill thought, maybe made of sheepskin, or cowhide—tough to say, as Bill was no expert in husbandry. The man was small where Bill was large. Bill was six-three and two hundred and fifty pounds. He had played tight-end in college and lorded his physical stature over small men all his life. He felt it gave him an advantage at contract negotiations. He always made sure to be sitting when the opposing lawyers walked in because his size was hidden. Then he would stand up from behind table—a great reveal, a physical imposition—in an effortless attempt to intimidate the other team. It was mostly an effective strategy. The man, nearly a foot shorter, and a petite lady’s-weight less was standing almost eye-level with Bill. He sheepishly looked at Bill and asked if he was happy now.
“I suppose so,” Bill answered, rather dazed and unaware of all that was happening. “Are you God?” asked Bill. The old man smiled knowingly and set his delicate hand on Bill’s shoulder. “What can I do to make you comfortable?” Bill attempted to stand up but the man’s hand held him in place without applying any extra force. “A scotch would be nice! Do they serve scotch in heaven?” he laughed. The man laughed and gave Bill a scotch.
“Let me tell you, God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it! When do we go through the pearly gates?”
“I’m afraid you’ve seen too many Hollywood movies. That’s not how it works. Tell me, how was life on Earth?”
“Well, I guess you can tell by how I checked out it wasn’t great. But I am feeling better now. Sometimes you just need a good night’s sleep, I guess, right?”
“I guess so. You weren’t very happy down there. But that’s what I’m here for. You can fix it all now. Tell me, what went wrong in your life?”
“Wait, is this Purgatory then?”
He chuckled, “No. Don’t be silly. What went wrong down there?”
“I knew it—those nuns were all off. Well, for one, I worked too much. I spent 80, 90, 100 hours a week every week for years—hell, probably decades when you add it all up—in the office, chasing the ring, getting the promotion.” His thought broke and he looked at the man and said, “you know I cleared 950-k last year?” Sinking back into his thoughts, “but it wasn’t enough for her. She could give Cleopatra a run for her money. Man she could spend. I worked all the time, always on the road to a different client’s office, eating airport food, never exercising. Traded my health and youth for wealth, then she got to enjoy it. I ended up all alone in my big house, all by myself and my LonelyFans Platinum subscription. Look at me, I got so fat no pretty woman could stand to look at me. If I could do it again, I’d go back and just make 60k a year, keep my health, my good looks, and go to clubs every night and dance with beautiful women. I wasted so much.”
“Wow, thanks for being so honest, Bill. I’m glad you were honest, because now I can give you the chance to fix it. I am going to give you the opportunity to craft the life you always wanted, the life you dreamed of! This is your chance Bill, to do it right this time. You had a full life, you tried out things: some worked, some didn’t—that trip to Tokyo probably didn’t help your marriage, did it; but now that’s all behind, now you get to create the perfect one based on everything you learned. Now you get to play God to yourself. You will have the power to create any life you want: money, women, food, servants, power, glory, the revenge on everybody who did you wrong—anything.”
“Oh, Good Lord, heaven is even better than Mother Superior led on! I get to do that? Now?”
“Yes, I’m granting you this power. Total freedom to do what you want. You deserve it! You’ve earned it, Bill.”
“Ok, so what do I do? Just point and make something happen?”
“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “everybody always wants to point at things like some Vegas magician. The entire creation was spoken into existence, but ever since Adam people want to point things into existence—whatever makes them happy, I guess. Anyway, you’ve got the power of the Lord, do it however you want!”
Bill pointed to a cloud in front of him and a new truck appeared before his eyes. “Holy moly, I can’t believe it’s real.” The sun reflecting off the chrome was just a big blur to Bill Rogers water-filled eyes. He had to squint to see that it had the turbodiesel engine he had imagined. “I’m not going to get carried away on the wealth. I learned my lesson there. It doesn’t buy happiness. I had eight digits in my savings account,” he looked to see if the man was listening, “and look at where that got me. No, just a simple life for me,” he pointed to a cloud and four-bed, three-bath house with in-law suite and three car garage next to a lush green lawn appeared. It fronted a cul-de-sac. “You can’t take it with you, right?” he laughed.
“Is that it, Bill? What else do you want?”
“Well, like I said, I want to be young and healthy.” His stomach disappeared into his abdominal muscles and the brown spots and wrinkles on his hands vanished into a smooth clear skin.
“And what are you going to do with your time? Go back to your old job?”
“Ohh, you got a good sense of humor, God!” The old man laughed along with Bill. “Like I said, I just want to live a normal life and go to the bars at night, talk to beautiful women. Dance with them, smile, laugh. Have fun, that’s all.”
“Your wish, is my command,” he said, and Bill asked if that is how it really worked, and the old man laughed: “no, but people really started to ask for it after Aladdin got big, so I started doing it.”
“You’re a real people-pleaser, aren’t you, God?”
The small man’s sheepish smile resurfaced and a faint pink tint rose up to his pale cheeks.
“That is it for now, enjoy your new life, Bill. I’ll be back to check on you after a while.”
“Thanks, God, you really are great.”
“Oh, wait, one more thing—I almost forgot. In your newly made, perfect, heavenly life— do you want your children here?”
Bill let out a huge laugh, “of course! How could I forget! Yes, of course, I want to see my children! Not every day—and don’t have the Queen of Sheba bring ‘em by either, if you know what I mean,” he nudged the old man with his elbow, almost knocking his small frame over, “but yes I always regretted not having more time with the kids.”
“Great, I’ll make that happen. I’ll be ba-a-a-a-a-ck,” he said as he turned around.
A door appeared out of nowhere and the old man glided over to it, with his sheepskin coat dragging behind him. The door opened and he walked through it. It began to close, but his coat got caught in the door, and he had to reach back and yank it through. As the coat flew up, Bill thought he saw the tip of a German Sheppard’s tail and wondered if the dog had been there all along, but soon didn’t care as he saw his new neighbor, a young blonde woman in yoga pants and high heels getting into her Mercedes coupe. He tried to get her attention, but she was focused on fixing her lipstick and hair in the mirror as she drove away.
Bill settled down into his new life, got comfortable in his small house and extended cab truck, and began going out to bars and clubs, just as he had imagined. Every night there was a bar to go to filled with beautiful women, and they all were happy to let him buy drinks and chat for a while. Sometimes he would invite one or two to dance and they’d agree, and then disappear with their friends. Other times he would meet a young woman in pub and talk to her; they’d laugh and joke and maybe she would give him her number and maybe not. But he never saw the same woman twice. If he called or texted a woman, she never responded. If he asked a woman if she’d like to go somewhere for coffee she always declined and said she had to get back home.
On the rare chance that a woman did sit down and talk with him, the conversation was always the same: polite introductions, niceties, some flirtatious exchanges. He tried to talk to the beautiful women about life, what they wanted, what mattered to them, but they all just said they liked to have fun to some degree or another.
After three weeks of going to the bars and trying to talk to women, Bill got tired of going out. He stayed at home for a week, then he tried to find his neighbor again. He saw her car in the drive and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. He only ever saw her driving away.
After a couple slow weeks, he tried going out again, but it was the same routine: a few drinks, a few laughs, nothing to talk about and goodbye, never to be seen again. Bill sat in his truck in the garage and contemplated his after-life. He wiped a tear from his cheek and heard someone knocking on his front door. He let the old man in, and Bill sat down at the barstool.
“Can I take your coat?”
“No, I like to keep it on. I came by to see how you are doing?”
“This isn’t what I thought heaven would be like,” said Bill, hunched forward, hands between his legs, staring at the floor.”
“Heaven?” said the old man, looking up at Bill. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Who are you?”
The old man took off the sheepskin coat and Bill saw the gray and white fur all over his body. The gray tail dragged on the floor, and the old man’s face looked like the snout of a grey wolf.
“This is your own doing, Bill. You made the life you wanted. You’ve had two chances now. This one you are stuck with, forever. No escaping. No crying, no laying down in the back of your truck for eternal sleep. This is the eternal sleep.”
“This is hell.”
“Call it what you will.”
The wolf got down on all fours and walked to the door. “Can you let me out?”
Bill opened the door and the wolf ran outside, almost knocking over the two people walking up Bill’s sidewalk.
“What are you doing here,” he shouted at them.
“We came to see you!”
“No! Get away! Get out of here, go! Go!”
The neighbor was getting into her Mercedes and looked over to see what the yelling was about, but then looked away before she could make eye contact.
“Dad, we missed you! So, we followed you here. The old man told us how to find you! He asked us what our perfect life would be, and we told him ‘we just want to be with our Dad.’”
***
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“I suppose so,” Bill answered, rather dazed and unaware of all that was happening. “Are you God?” asked Bill. The old man smiled knowingly and set his delicate hand on Bill’s shoulder. “What can I do to make you comfortable?” Bill attempted to stand up but the man’s hand held him in place without applying any extra force. “A scotch would be nice! Do they serve scotch in heaven?” he laughed. The man laughed and gave Bill a scotch.
“Let me tell you, God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it! When do we go through the pearly gates?”
“I’m afraid you’ve seen too many Hollywood movies. That’s not how it works. Tell me, how was life on Earth?”
“Well, I guess you can tell by how I checked out it wasn’t great. But I am feeling better now. Sometimes you just need a good night’s sleep, I guess, right?”
“I guess so. You weren’t very happy down there. But that’s what I’m here for. You can fix it all now. Tell me, what went wrong in your life?”
“Wait, is this Purgatory then?”
He chuckled, “No. Don’t be silly. What went wrong down there?”
“I knew it—those nuns were all off. Well, for one, I worked too much. I spent 80, 90, 100 hours a week every week for years—hell, probably decades when you add it all up—in the office, chasing the ring, getting the promotion.” His thought broke and he looked at the man and said, “you know I cleared 950-k last year?” Sinking back into his thoughts, “but it wasn’t enough for her. She could give Cleopatra a run for her money. Man she could spend. I worked all the time, always on the road to a different client’s office, eating airport food, never exercising. Traded my health and youth for wealth, then she got to enjoy it. I ended up all alone in my big house, all by myself and my LonelyFans Platinum subscription. Look at me, I got so fat no pretty woman could stand to look at me. If I could do it again, I’d go back and just make 60k a year, keep my health, my good looks, and go to clubs every night and dance with beautiful women. I wasted so much.”
“Wow, thanks for being so honest, Bill. I’m glad you were honest, because now I can give you the chance to fix it. I am going to give you the opportunity to craft the life you always wanted, the life you dreamed of! This is your chance Bill, to do it right this time. You had a full life, you tried out things: some worked, some didn’t—that trip to Tokyo probably didn’t help your marriage, did it; but now that’s all behind, now you get to create the perfect one based on everything you learned. Now you get to play God to yourself. You will have the power to create any life you want: money, women, food, servants, power, glory, the revenge on everybody who did you wrong—anything.”
“Oh, Good Lord, heaven is even better than Mother Superior led on! I get to do that? Now?”
“Yes, I’m granting you this power. Total freedom to do what you want. You deserve it! You’ve earned it, Bill.”
“Ok, so what do I do? Just point and make something happen?”
“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “everybody always wants to point at things like some Vegas magician. The entire creation was spoken into existence, but ever since Adam people want to point things into existence—whatever makes them happy, I guess. Anyway, you’ve got the power of the Lord, do it however you want!”
Bill pointed to a cloud in front of him and a new truck appeared before his eyes. “Holy moly, I can’t believe it’s real.” The sun reflecting off the chrome was just a big blur to Bill Rogers water-filled eyes. He had to squint to see that it had the turbodiesel engine he had imagined. “I’m not going to get carried away on the wealth. I learned my lesson there. It doesn’t buy happiness. I had eight digits in my savings account,” he looked to see if the man was listening, “and look at where that got me. No, just a simple life for me,” he pointed to a cloud and four-bed, three-bath house with in-law suite and three car garage next to a lush green lawn appeared. It fronted a cul-de-sac. “You can’t take it with you, right?” he laughed.
“Is that it, Bill? What else do you want?”
“Well, like I said, I want to be young and healthy.” His stomach disappeared into his abdominal muscles and the brown spots and wrinkles on his hands vanished into a smooth clear skin.
“And what are you going to do with your time? Go back to your old job?”
“Ohh, you got a good sense of humor, God!” The old man laughed along with Bill. “Like I said, I just want to live a normal life and go to the bars at night, talk to beautiful women. Dance with them, smile, laugh. Have fun, that’s all.”
“Your wish, is my command,” he said, and Bill asked if that is how it really worked, and the old man laughed: “no, but people really started to ask for it after Aladdin got big, so I started doing it.”
“You’re a real people-pleaser, aren’t you, God?”
The small man’s sheepish smile resurfaced and a faint pink tint rose up to his pale cheeks.
“That is it for now, enjoy your new life, Bill. I’ll be back to check on you after a while.”
“Thanks, God, you really are great.”
“Oh, wait, one more thing—I almost forgot. In your newly made, perfect, heavenly life— do you want your children here?”
Bill let out a huge laugh, “of course! How could I forget! Yes, of course, I want to see my children! Not every day—and don’t have the Queen of Sheba bring ‘em by either, if you know what I mean,” he nudged the old man with his elbow, almost knocking his small frame over, “but yes I always regretted not having more time with the kids.”
“Great, I’ll make that happen. I’ll be ba-a-a-a-a-ck,” he said as he turned around.
A door appeared out of nowhere and the old man glided over to it, with his sheepskin coat dragging behind him. The door opened and he walked through it. It began to close, but his coat got caught in the door, and he had to reach back and yank it through. As the coat flew up, Bill thought he saw the tip of a German Sheppard’s tail and wondered if the dog had been there all along, but soon didn’t care as he saw his new neighbor, a young blonde woman in yoga pants and high heels getting into her Mercedes coupe. He tried to get her attention, but she was focused on fixing her lipstick and hair in the mirror as she drove away.
Bill settled down into his new life, got comfortable in his small house and extended cab truck, and began going out to bars and clubs, just as he had imagined. Every night there was a bar to go to filled with beautiful women, and they all were happy to let him buy drinks and chat for a while. Sometimes he would invite one or two to dance and they’d agree, and then disappear with their friends. Other times he would meet a young woman in pub and talk to her; they’d laugh and joke and maybe she would give him her number and maybe not. But he never saw the same woman twice. If he called or texted a woman, she never responded. If he asked a woman if she’d like to go somewhere for coffee she always declined and said she had to get back home.
On the rare chance that a woman did sit down and talk with him, the conversation was always the same: polite introductions, niceties, some flirtatious exchanges. He tried to talk to the beautiful women about life, what they wanted, what mattered to them, but they all just said they liked to have fun to some degree or another.
After three weeks of going to the bars and trying to talk to women, Bill got tired of going out. He stayed at home for a week, then he tried to find his neighbor again. He saw her car in the drive and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. He only ever saw her driving away.
After a couple slow weeks, he tried going out again, but it was the same routine: a few drinks, a few laughs, nothing to talk about and goodbye, never to be seen again. Bill sat in his truck in the garage and contemplated his after-life. He wiped a tear from his cheek and heard someone knocking on his front door. He let the old man in, and Bill sat down at the barstool.
“Can I take your coat?”
“No, I like to keep it on. I came by to see how you are doing?”
“This isn’t what I thought heaven would be like,” said Bill, hunched forward, hands between his legs, staring at the floor.”
“Heaven?” said the old man, looking up at Bill. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Who are you?”
The old man took off the sheepskin coat and Bill saw the gray and white fur all over his body. The gray tail dragged on the floor, and the old man’s face looked like the snout of a grey wolf.
“This is your own doing, Bill. You made the life you wanted. You’ve had two chances now. This one you are stuck with, forever. No escaping. No crying, no laying down in the back of your truck for eternal sleep. This is the eternal sleep.”
“This is hell.”
“Call it what you will.”
The wolf got down on all fours and walked to the door. “Can you let me out?”
Bill opened the door and the wolf ran outside, almost knocking over the two people walking up Bill’s sidewalk.
“What are you doing here,” he shouted at them.
“We came to see you!”
“No! Get away! Get out of here, go! Go!”
The neighbor was getting into her Mercedes and looked over to see what the yelling was about, but then looked away before she could make eye contact.
“Dad, we missed you! So, we followed you here. The old man told us how to find you! He asked us what our perfect life would be, and we told him ‘we just want to be with our Dad.’”
***
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2024.05.16 20:00 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 5)
As the last orange light of day drained from the sky, the living dead in Club Vlad rose. Max the skeleton and Jessie the…not skeleton…sewed up the gaping Y-shaped incision on Dom’s chest under Merrick’s direct supervision. Dom sat there, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. He’d woken with a headache and a feeling of cold, and even now, he could feel the dull throb above his left eye. It felt like someone was tearing his brain apart with a fork. He had told Merrick, and Merrick had nodded sadly. “Is my brain rotting?”
“Most likely,” Merrick had said.
There was a certain peace in the idea of losing his cursed humanity. As Merrick had said, he would feel no pain, know no quandaries. He would live only for the night and for his master. On the other hand, watching someone like Matt sit and stare into the distance, drool coursing down his chin and nothing happening behind his dead eyes, scared Dom. He didn’t want to be a braindead idiot. He didn’t care about keeping his emotions, he just wanted to function.
Like Merrick.
There wasn’t much he could do, however. He was dead and that was the end of it.
Once Dom was patched up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, Merrick called his children before him. “I have done my best to love and protect all of you,” he began. “Jessie, you were miserable with your grandmother, were you not?”
“Yes,” Jessie said tonelessly.
“You were depressed, bipolar, and cut yourself. Now you’re happy.”
“Yes,” she replied again.
“Joe, you were a two bit nobody staring down a ten year stretch in jail.”
“Yes.” Thin yellow liquid dripped from his nose.
“But now you are free.”
“Yes.”
“You appreciate what I’ve done for you.”
“Yes.”
Merrick flashed then, slamming his fist onto the arm of his wheelchair. “Then why do you keep fucking up? The police were here earlier. They have messages between you and Jessie. I told both of you to delete those. Then I find out that you bit someone and turned them despite my orders. We have an endless supply of blood here but you still went off on your own. How many are there?”
“Just one,” Joe said.
“Are you being honest with me?”
“Yes.”
Merrick sagged back in his chair, looking somehow older. “Joe, take Matt and go to her. Bring her back here before she causes any more problems. God alone knows how many people she’s changed. Too many vampires without a father will bring heat on us, and you know what happens in that case? We get pieces of wood shoved in our chests.”
Turning to Dom, Merrick said, “I have a job for you and Jessie. We’re nearly out of embalming fluid. You haven’t had your first dose and the rest of us are starting to get ripe as well. I have a contact at a funeral home. He texted earlier that the order he placed on my behalf has come in. I want you to pick it up and to pay him.”
Dom had never been picked for anything in his whole life. No one had ever wanted him on their team and no one had ever placed their trust in him the way Merrick was now. He was honored, proud, and would do anything to not let Merrick down.
“That cop who came here might be a problem,” Merrick went on. “We may have to deal with him, but we’ll leave that for another night. In any case, I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. If the police come, I want them to see nothing out of the ordinary.”
Now that everyone had their marching orders, they dispersed. Merrick handed Dom an evelope stuffed with cash, and Dom slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. The other team - Joe and Matt - left, while the remaining vampires began tidying up.
A fleet of vehicles waited in the parking lot behind Club Vlad. Dom and Jessie took a black pedo van with no back windows. They drove in silence, the radio off. Dom did not want to hear music, nor did he wish to speak to Jessie. Their kinship was one of blood and circumstance, not one of words and emotions. He had no questions for her and wished to answer none of his own. The only thoughts he had were of the mission ahead and of the growing pain in his skull. He thought of the staring stupid Matt, of the decayed Max, and a shiver went down his spine.
What was left of his humanity recoiled at the idea of becoming like them.
The pain grew hotter, more intense. He forced it away and focused on driving.
The funeral home was on North Allen Street, next to a restaurant called Pepperjack’s. A tall, white house with dark shutters and a sign out front, it looked like a quiet, peaceful place. “Pull around back,” Jessie said.
Dom pulled the van around back and parked under a balcony, killing the headlights. They got out and went to the back door, Jessie in the lead. He assumed that she had done this before and that the seller would recognize her. She knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened. A youngish man with a shaved head appeared, wearing an apron and gloves. He saw them and tensed a little. Dom could smell, rather than sense, his fear, and his throat panged with thirst. “Come on,” the man said quickly. He stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Dom noticed that he walked behind them, wary of putting his back to them. “Do you have the money?”
“Do you have our order?” Jessie countered.
“Yes,” the man said, “I’m really risking my neck for this. They don’t just give embalming fluid away, you know. They keep track of it and if they realize I’m over ordering, someone from the state’s going to come down here and check.”
He led them into an embalming room. Three boxes sat on a table. Dom gave the man his money, and he and Jessie carried the boxes outside, loading them into the van. The whole time they were there, the man was edgy, like he was afraid they were going to attack him. Dom would be a liar if he said that the hot smell of the man’s blood didn’t excite him. Perhaps once his brain rotted away, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but for now, he could.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through his head and he nearly dropped the last box onto the ground.
Once the man was paid, Dom and Jessie drove back to Club Vlad. In fifteen minutes, they were drinking side by side from two passed out partygoers, their reward for a job well done.
Meanwhile, across the city, Joe and Matt weren’t doing as well. They were standing outside of Heather’s apartment. Joe, slightly annoyed (anger being another emotion vampires could feel, along with fear) pounded on the door. He knew she was in there; he could smell the putrid odor of decay. “Let us in,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.”
Joe could barely remember changing her. He didn’t mean to, it just…happened. Like an unwanted pregnancy. You can bite someone as much as you want and drink as much as you want, but if you take too much at once and they die, you get the vampire equivalent of a baby. Joe liked the hunt. It was exciting. Having his meals brought to him Club Vlad didn’t arouse the same level of excitement. It was like shooting an animal tied to a tree. Or hiring a prostitute instead of wooing someone. No real satisfaction to it.
That was probably his greatest downfall. He had lured Jessie the same way, though Merrick was indeed interested in rescuing her from her grandmother. People you have saved obey just as well as people with no brains.
He felt fluid on his upper lip and sniffed. “Come on, let us in,” he said.
No response.
He looked at Matt and nodded to the door. Together, they rammed their shoulders against it. It shook in its frame. They were both dead and weak, but modern American architecture is even weaker, and the door eventually slammed open. The apartment beyond was dark, messy, and reeked of death. They searched high and low, and eventually found Heather huddled in a corner, trying to hide. She was naked save for a pair of panties, her body bloated and beginning to turn black. Her skin hung from her frame and her eyes were filled with blood and fear. It was a wonder no one had called the police yet. The smell was overpowering. “We’re here to help,” he said. “You have to come with us.”
She shook her head and trembled. Maybe she remembered that he was the one who did this to her. Maybe her memories had rotted away. Those were usually the first to go. Then your emotions, then your personality. Finally, your capacity for higher reasoning. “I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said. That was a lie. He was not remorseful. Nor was he proud, for that matter. It just happened. Like rain. “But I want to help you. We can fix you.”
No amount of coaxing or conjoling could induce her to move. Joe weighed his options. He doubted anyone would call the cops even if they heard the door coming down - people who lived in places like this rarely called the cops, which helped Joe and his cause immensely. Even so, there was the possibility. Every minute they spent here was a minute that something could go wrong, and Joe had a lot to lose.
So, too, did Merrick.
Giving up, Joe took out his cellphone and called Merrick. “She refuses to come,” he said simply.
The line was quiet for a moment, then Merrick’s voice came back. Cold. Calculating. “Then do what you must.”
That was the go ahead.
Hanging up, Joe looked around the apartment and found a wooden chair in the kitchen. He lifted it over his head and slammed it on the counter, shattering it into a million pieces. He selected the longest, sharpest, and sturdiest looking one. He went back into the room and directed Matt to hold her down. She fought, kicked, and spat, but she was weaker than even they were. They had been embalmed. She hadn’t.
Matt pinned her hands above her head and Joe straddled her. Animal terror filled her eyes and she whipped her head from side to side. Joe lifted the makeshift stake with both hands, and brought it down as hard as he could, driving it deep into her heart. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and a high, otherworldly scream ripped from her throat. She bucked, thrashed, and kicked her feet. Her resistance began to ebb away until she was twitching…until she was still.
Heather from OKCupid was dead.
Truly dead.
Joe couldn’t help wondering what it was like.
Pulling the stake out, he tossed it aside and got to his feet, Matt doing likewise. A soul petrifying scream might be cause for even the tightest of lips to start talking. “Let’s go,” he said. And together, he and Matt fled, leaving the poor, dead body of Heather behind.
***
As it turned out, one of Heather’s neighbors did call the cops. At 10;13pm, Vanessa Rodregiez arrived with two patrolmen and found the front door of Apartment 237 knocked down. Guns drawn, they entered, Vanessa at the head. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It jammed itself into her nostrils, shoved its tongue down her throat, and violated her - all without even buying her dinner first.
Vanessa hadn’t been at this as long as her buddy Bruce had, but she knew a dead, rotting body when she smelled one. They searched the premises, and sure enough, they found a vic in the bedroom, lying in the gap between the bed and the wall; it looked like the former had been moved, perhaps in a struggle. Vanessa knelt down to check the vic’s pulse, but stopped.
There was no need.
The vic - who looked like a female but could have been an overweight male - hadn’t had a pulse in a very long time.
Examining the body, Vanessa found a wound in the chest, just above the heart. Black, stinking goo leaked from it, and Vanessa gagged. She fisted her hand to her mouth, retched, and then ran for the kitchen sink. Her partner for the night, Jim Walsh, stared down at the stiff before him, and his face turned a sickly shade of green. He avoided puking because he didn’t nose fuck the wound like Vanessa had, but he wasted no time in getting out there, dry heaving in the hallway where the air was somewhat fresh.
After leaving her lunch in the sink, Vanessa radioed back to headquarters, and before long, the place was crawling with cops. The assistant medical examiner - who had taken over after Ed Harris quit the previous night - knelt over the body and studied it. A solidly built black man with a mustache, his name was Leon and he knew death just as well as his old boss, so when he said the vic had been dead nearly two weeks, Vanessa accepted it.
That begged the question: Who broke in and screamed just now? A relative? The caller clearly heard screaming and peeked out her door to see two males fleeing on foot. Maybe they found the vic and freaked out? Or maybe they were the killers returning to the scene of the crime. After all, the vic had clearly been murdered.
In fact, they found a likely murder weapon. A long sliver of wood soaked in black goo. Blood turns black after a while, but there was something different about this stuff. “What is it?” Vanessa asked Leon.
“I’m not sure,” Leon said and pulled off a pair of Latex gloves he’d donned to examine the vic, “could be blood or…”
“Or what?” Vanessa asked.
“Or something,” Leon said. “Give me a few hours.”
And a few hours it was. Just before 1am, Leon called Vanessa at her desk. “I think you should come down here,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa stood over Leon as he pulled the vic’s chest open with a pair of tweezers. “That’s the heart,” he said, “whoever stabbed her scored a direct hit, but this…this is what concerns me.”
He prodded a furry lump with the tip of his scalpel.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, “it looks like mold.”
That word - mold - triggered a memory in her brain. “Ed said something about mold last night. He found it in -”
“The Mason boy,” Leon finished.
“Yeah. The one who got up and ran off.”
Leon turned away from Vanessa and looked at the dead woman - for it was a woman. Vanessa got the impression that he didn’t want her to see his expression. “I’ve known Ed ten years. I know something happened last night, but a stiff getting up and walking off? I thought he was confused. Now…I don’t know. That makes two bodies in 24 hours. And get this. The chest wound? It was done post-mortem. I can’t find a cause of death anywhere. Except maybe blood loss but it’s hard to tell at this point. And speaking of blood…”
“What?” Vanessa asked quickly.
“When I opened her stomach up, a whole shit load of blood spilled out. And a lot of it was a lot fresher than she is.”
Vanessa furrowed her brow in confusion. “You mean…?”
“It’s not hers,” Leon said. “I can’t be 100 percent sure until I run tests, but I’d put money on it.”
Vanessa’s head spun with information both new and old. You know that full, heavy feeling you get when a poo is brewing in your guts? That’s kind of what Vanessa was feeling, only in her head instead of her stomach.
Leon was just as mystified by the whole thing as she was and stayed up late to run a few preliminary tests. By sunrise, he had confirmed that the blood inside of Heather’s stomach was not hers. In fact, it had come from at least three different sources. “Is it human?” Vanessa asked over the phone.
“Yes,” Leon said, sounding troubled, “it’s human.”
In the cobalt hour before sunrise, Vanessa sat at her desk and tried to piece this whole thing together. They had:
The idea that vampires were real was dumb, but the more she turned it over in her mind, the more she became convinced that it was at least an option. A lot of things people thought were fantastic and made up turned out to be real, so why not vampires too?
Shortly after 8, Bruce came in. He was just sitting down when Vanessa came in and slapped her report on the desk. “Buckle up, bitch,” she said, “things just got weirder.”
He stared up at her with one of those grumpy - but cute -expressions he was so good at putting on. As he read, however, his brow knitted. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh.
“I have a theory - kind of,” Vanessa said, “but I don’t want to say it.”
“You might as well,” Bruce said. “It can’t be more kooky than reality these days.”
“Okay,” Vanessa started, “what if - and I’m just thinking out loud here - what if there are vampires in Albany?”
She expected Bruce to give her a dirty look, but he chewed it over, actually taking it seriously. “And those missing boys are victims?” he asked finally.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “That girl’s been dead two weeks. Maybe she bit Dominick Mason and he came back for revenge after realizing he was cursed to be a goddamn shit sucking vampire forever.”
Bruce nodded. “Yeah, but who turned her?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said, “I don’t know.”
***
Before dawn painted the eastern sky, Merrick Garvis sat in his chamber like a withered king, a mess of IVs hooked into his arms and neck. The vault was silent save for the soft noise of the machines as they filtered out the old embalming fluid and replaced it with new embalming fluid. Embalming fluid always made him spacy, like a drug. The others had gone first, and even now lay near comatose around him like addicts in an opium den.
As far as he knew, Merrick was the oldest vampire in the world, perhaps, even, the oldest vampire to ever live. Though he was not fully honest with Dom, he was not lying when he said that vampires rotted like any other dead thing. Conditions considered, you had a few weeks tops if left untreated. There may be living vampires in remote corners of Egypt or the northern most reaches of Russia, where the climate preserved dead things, but unless you made it to one of those places, you were pretty well fucked.
Merrick was not a proud man, nor was he concerned with saving face - the dead have no need for that. He was being truthful when he said that he feared death. What’s more, he feared being helpless. Deep down, vampires are people, and people don’t exactly have the greatest track record with caring for their infirm. He read once that the first sign of a civilization was a broken leg that had healed, as it showed that someone stayed with and cared for a fellow human long enough for them to get well again. In Merrick’s opinion, that was true…and thus there was no civilization. Merrick was fifty-one when he died in the year 1982. In his lifetime, he had seen The Great Depression, World War II, and a million small acts of cruelty and selfishness in between. He’d seen beggars starving in the streets, abused children shuffled out of sight and out of mind, and disdain for the poor and the weak.
The living were awful, and the living dead were no different. Once their humanity rotted away, they cared only about filling their stomachs. They were like ticks - they would drink until their bellies literally ruptured…and then keep on drinking.
That left him in a precarious position. He was old, his body was weak. He couldn’t stand unassisted and if left to fend for himself, he would decay into a pile of bones within days. He would be cursed to lay in one spot for all eternity, aware and hungry, little more than a ghost tethered to a black and still beating heart.
He refused to let that happen to him. Thus, he had created a family, a clan of vampires loyal to him and to him alone. He did this through acts of simple kindness and understanding…but also through deception. He knew, for instance, how to preserve the brain. He’d figured out how to do it early on - you pickle it. Like a fetus preserved in a jar. He sawed off the top of his own head and filled it with a special solution that kept his brain - and his intelligence - intact. It slowly drained out through the nose and ears in a thin, yellow liquid, but it worked well enough. He couldn’t save everything, however, and had lost vital things in the process, such as most of his human memories, his sense of humor, and some motor functions. He shared this secret with only Joe, and a few others before, because he needed a strong captain. He kept the others in the dark because vampires - like people - are easier to control when they don’t think for themselves.
Right about now, however, Merrick was beginning to regret sharing the formula with even Joe. Joe had brought him nothing but grief. Joe, you see, could think for himself. He could make decisions. He could go behind Merrick’s back. Joe had something called free will, and free will is a worse affliction than vampirism. Free will is messy, free will is dangerous.
Free will could very well turn Merrick into a pile of bones.
That was, of course, if they weren’t discovered first. Joe had made several mistakes lately, not least of which was the turning of Heather. Sitting there in the predawn hour, attended by Tony, his gay bartender and human familiar, Merrick decided to have Joe killed. There are only two ways to kill a vampire: The stake and the flame. The latter seemed somehow appropriate in this case. After Joe, there would be no more captains, only him, one father with absolute power. That was how it had to be. One man, one vision. Democracies didn’t work. That was especially clear today. Everyone was so divided and nothing ever got done. If the humans had one strong leader, they might go in the wrong direction, but at least they would go somewhere. Instead, they stagnated.
Merrick didn’t particularly look forward to killing Joe, but it had to be done. To protect the family. To protect him.
And Merrick would do anything…anything at all…to protect himself.
***
Vampires.
Bruce kept coming back to that single wor, hoping each time that he would chuckle at the absurdity of it.
But he never did.
Did that mean he believed it? Not necessarily, but damn it, he considered it a possibility, and that alone was enough to make him feel like a fucking clown. All the evidence he had pointed to vampires, but then again, it might point to other things as well. Like aliens.
But let’s say the whole vampire thing was real. Who, like Vanessa asked, was patient zero? Who started this whole mess?
A name came to mind.
Merrick Garvis.
He had not had time to check into Garvis the previous day, but by God, he was going to do it now. He ran his name and social through the system and everything seemed to check out. Merrick Garvis was born on June 31, 1963 in -
Wait a minute. Weren’t there only 30 days in June?
Bruce checked, and there were, indeed, only 30 days in the month of June. Hm. Bruce did a little digging and found something out. Before 1987, social security numbers weren’t issued at birth. You had to sign up, using other forms of ID. Merrick Garvis applied for his in April 1984 and the date of birth on his state issued driver’s license was June 31. Bruce spent an hour on the phone with the DMV and learned that they had never issued a license to a Merrick Garvis. He then spoke to the Social Security Administration, and after much wrangling and frustration, he managed to get a photocopy of the license Garvis used to get his social security number. It was dated 1983.
The face staring back at him was almost exactly the same face he’d seen at Club Vlad, except maybe a touch less stiff and waxy. Though not as rough looking, there was no way in hell Garvis was 20 in that picture. It had to be a fake,
Bruce thought back to the events of the previous two days. Missing bodies, staked corpses, hearts that still beat after death.
Vampires didn’t seem like such a crazy explanation.
And if anyone was a fucking vampire around here, it was Merrick Garvis.
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“Most likely,” Merrick had said.
There was a certain peace in the idea of losing his cursed humanity. As Merrick had said, he would feel no pain, know no quandaries. He would live only for the night and for his master. On the other hand, watching someone like Matt sit and stare into the distance, drool coursing down his chin and nothing happening behind his dead eyes, scared Dom. He didn’t want to be a braindead idiot. He didn’t care about keeping his emotions, he just wanted to function.
Like Merrick.
There wasn’t much he could do, however. He was dead and that was the end of it.
Once Dom was patched up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, Merrick called his children before him. “I have done my best to love and protect all of you,” he began. “Jessie, you were miserable with your grandmother, were you not?”
“Yes,” Jessie said tonelessly.
“You were depressed, bipolar, and cut yourself. Now you’re happy.”
“Yes,” she replied again.
“Joe, you were a two bit nobody staring down a ten year stretch in jail.”
“Yes.” Thin yellow liquid dripped from his nose.
“But now you are free.”
“Yes.”
“You appreciate what I’ve done for you.”
“Yes.”
Merrick flashed then, slamming his fist onto the arm of his wheelchair. “Then why do you keep fucking up? The police were here earlier. They have messages between you and Jessie. I told both of you to delete those. Then I find out that you bit someone and turned them despite my orders. We have an endless supply of blood here but you still went off on your own. How many are there?”
“Just one,” Joe said.
“Are you being honest with me?”
“Yes.”
Merrick sagged back in his chair, looking somehow older. “Joe, take Matt and go to her. Bring her back here before she causes any more problems. God alone knows how many people she’s changed. Too many vampires without a father will bring heat on us, and you know what happens in that case? We get pieces of wood shoved in our chests.”
Turning to Dom, Merrick said, “I have a job for you and Jessie. We’re nearly out of embalming fluid. You haven’t had your first dose and the rest of us are starting to get ripe as well. I have a contact at a funeral home. He texted earlier that the order he placed on my behalf has come in. I want you to pick it up and to pay him.”
Dom had never been picked for anything in his whole life. No one had ever wanted him on their team and no one had ever placed their trust in him the way Merrick was now. He was honored, proud, and would do anything to not let Merrick down.
“That cop who came here might be a problem,” Merrick went on. “We may have to deal with him, but we’ll leave that for another night. In any case, I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. If the police come, I want them to see nothing out of the ordinary.”
Now that everyone had their marching orders, they dispersed. Merrick handed Dom an evelope stuffed with cash, and Dom slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. The other team - Joe and Matt - left, while the remaining vampires began tidying up.
A fleet of vehicles waited in the parking lot behind Club Vlad. Dom and Jessie took a black pedo van with no back windows. They drove in silence, the radio off. Dom did not want to hear music, nor did he wish to speak to Jessie. Their kinship was one of blood and circumstance, not one of words and emotions. He had no questions for her and wished to answer none of his own. The only thoughts he had were of the mission ahead and of the growing pain in his skull. He thought of the staring stupid Matt, of the decayed Max, and a shiver went down his spine.
What was left of his humanity recoiled at the idea of becoming like them.
The pain grew hotter, more intense. He forced it away and focused on driving.
The funeral home was on North Allen Street, next to a restaurant called Pepperjack’s. A tall, white house with dark shutters and a sign out front, it looked like a quiet, peaceful place. “Pull around back,” Jessie said.
Dom pulled the van around back and parked under a balcony, killing the headlights. They got out and went to the back door, Jessie in the lead. He assumed that she had done this before and that the seller would recognize her. She knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened. A youngish man with a shaved head appeared, wearing an apron and gloves. He saw them and tensed a little. Dom could smell, rather than sense, his fear, and his throat panged with thirst. “Come on,” the man said quickly. He stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Dom noticed that he walked behind them, wary of putting his back to them. “Do you have the money?”
“Do you have our order?” Jessie countered.
“Yes,” the man said, “I’m really risking my neck for this. They don’t just give embalming fluid away, you know. They keep track of it and if they realize I’m over ordering, someone from the state’s going to come down here and check.”
He led them into an embalming room. Three boxes sat on a table. Dom gave the man his money, and he and Jessie carried the boxes outside, loading them into the van. The whole time they were there, the man was edgy, like he was afraid they were going to attack him. Dom would be a liar if he said that the hot smell of the man’s blood didn’t excite him. Perhaps once his brain rotted away, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but for now, he could.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through his head and he nearly dropped the last box onto the ground.
Once the man was paid, Dom and Jessie drove back to Club Vlad. In fifteen minutes, they were drinking side by side from two passed out partygoers, their reward for a job well done.
Meanwhile, across the city, Joe and Matt weren’t doing as well. They were standing outside of Heather’s apartment. Joe, slightly annoyed (anger being another emotion vampires could feel, along with fear) pounded on the door. He knew she was in there; he could smell the putrid odor of decay. “Let us in,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.”
Joe could barely remember changing her. He didn’t mean to, it just…happened. Like an unwanted pregnancy. You can bite someone as much as you want and drink as much as you want, but if you take too much at once and they die, you get the vampire equivalent of a baby. Joe liked the hunt. It was exciting. Having his meals brought to him Club Vlad didn’t arouse the same level of excitement. It was like shooting an animal tied to a tree. Or hiring a prostitute instead of wooing someone. No real satisfaction to it.
That was probably his greatest downfall. He had lured Jessie the same way, though Merrick was indeed interested in rescuing her from her grandmother. People you have saved obey just as well as people with no brains.
He felt fluid on his upper lip and sniffed. “Come on, let us in,” he said.
No response.
He looked at Matt and nodded to the door. Together, they rammed their shoulders against it. It shook in its frame. They were both dead and weak, but modern American architecture is even weaker, and the door eventually slammed open. The apartment beyond was dark, messy, and reeked of death. They searched high and low, and eventually found Heather huddled in a corner, trying to hide. She was naked save for a pair of panties, her body bloated and beginning to turn black. Her skin hung from her frame and her eyes were filled with blood and fear. It was a wonder no one had called the police yet. The smell was overpowering. “We’re here to help,” he said. “You have to come with us.”
She shook her head and trembled. Maybe she remembered that he was the one who did this to her. Maybe her memories had rotted away. Those were usually the first to go. Then your emotions, then your personality. Finally, your capacity for higher reasoning. “I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said. That was a lie. He was not remorseful. Nor was he proud, for that matter. It just happened. Like rain. “But I want to help you. We can fix you.”
No amount of coaxing or conjoling could induce her to move. Joe weighed his options. He doubted anyone would call the cops even if they heard the door coming down - people who lived in places like this rarely called the cops, which helped Joe and his cause immensely. Even so, there was the possibility. Every minute they spent here was a minute that something could go wrong, and Joe had a lot to lose.
So, too, did Merrick.
Giving up, Joe took out his cellphone and called Merrick. “She refuses to come,” he said simply.
The line was quiet for a moment, then Merrick’s voice came back. Cold. Calculating. “Then do what you must.”
That was the go ahead.
Hanging up, Joe looked around the apartment and found a wooden chair in the kitchen. He lifted it over his head and slammed it on the counter, shattering it into a million pieces. He selected the longest, sharpest, and sturdiest looking one. He went back into the room and directed Matt to hold her down. She fought, kicked, and spat, but she was weaker than even they were. They had been embalmed. She hadn’t.
Matt pinned her hands above her head and Joe straddled her. Animal terror filled her eyes and she whipped her head from side to side. Joe lifted the makeshift stake with both hands, and brought it down as hard as he could, driving it deep into her heart. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and a high, otherworldly scream ripped from her throat. She bucked, thrashed, and kicked her feet. Her resistance began to ebb away until she was twitching…until she was still.
Heather from OKCupid was dead.
Truly dead.
Joe couldn’t help wondering what it was like.
Pulling the stake out, he tossed it aside and got to his feet, Matt doing likewise. A soul petrifying scream might be cause for even the tightest of lips to start talking. “Let’s go,” he said. And together, he and Matt fled, leaving the poor, dead body of Heather behind.
***
As it turned out, one of Heather’s neighbors did call the cops. At 10;13pm, Vanessa Rodregiez arrived with two patrolmen and found the front door of Apartment 237 knocked down. Guns drawn, they entered, Vanessa at the head. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It jammed itself into her nostrils, shoved its tongue down her throat, and violated her - all without even buying her dinner first.
Vanessa hadn’t been at this as long as her buddy Bruce had, but she knew a dead, rotting body when she smelled one. They searched the premises, and sure enough, they found a vic in the bedroom, lying in the gap between the bed and the wall; it looked like the former had been moved, perhaps in a struggle. Vanessa knelt down to check the vic’s pulse, but stopped.
There was no need.
The vic - who looked like a female but could have been an overweight male - hadn’t had a pulse in a very long time.
Examining the body, Vanessa found a wound in the chest, just above the heart. Black, stinking goo leaked from it, and Vanessa gagged. She fisted her hand to her mouth, retched, and then ran for the kitchen sink. Her partner for the night, Jim Walsh, stared down at the stiff before him, and his face turned a sickly shade of green. He avoided puking because he didn’t nose fuck the wound like Vanessa had, but he wasted no time in getting out there, dry heaving in the hallway where the air was somewhat fresh.
After leaving her lunch in the sink, Vanessa radioed back to headquarters, and before long, the place was crawling with cops. The assistant medical examiner - who had taken over after Ed Harris quit the previous night - knelt over the body and studied it. A solidly built black man with a mustache, his name was Leon and he knew death just as well as his old boss, so when he said the vic had been dead nearly two weeks, Vanessa accepted it.
That begged the question: Who broke in and screamed just now? A relative? The caller clearly heard screaming and peeked out her door to see two males fleeing on foot. Maybe they found the vic and freaked out? Or maybe they were the killers returning to the scene of the crime. After all, the vic had clearly been murdered.
In fact, they found a likely murder weapon. A long sliver of wood soaked in black goo. Blood turns black after a while, but there was something different about this stuff. “What is it?” Vanessa asked Leon.
“I’m not sure,” Leon said and pulled off a pair of Latex gloves he’d donned to examine the vic, “could be blood or…”
“Or what?” Vanessa asked.
“Or something,” Leon said. “Give me a few hours.”
And a few hours it was. Just before 1am, Leon called Vanessa at her desk. “I think you should come down here,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa stood over Leon as he pulled the vic’s chest open with a pair of tweezers. “That’s the heart,” he said, “whoever stabbed her scored a direct hit, but this…this is what concerns me.”
He prodded a furry lump with the tip of his scalpel.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, “it looks like mold.”
That word - mold - triggered a memory in her brain. “Ed said something about mold last night. He found it in -”
“The Mason boy,” Leon finished.
“Yeah. The one who got up and ran off.”
Leon turned away from Vanessa and looked at the dead woman - for it was a woman. Vanessa got the impression that he didn’t want her to see his expression. “I’ve known Ed ten years. I know something happened last night, but a stiff getting up and walking off? I thought he was confused. Now…I don’t know. That makes two bodies in 24 hours. And get this. The chest wound? It was done post-mortem. I can’t find a cause of death anywhere. Except maybe blood loss but it’s hard to tell at this point. And speaking of blood…”
“What?” Vanessa asked quickly.
“When I opened her stomach up, a whole shit load of blood spilled out. And a lot of it was a lot fresher than she is.”
Vanessa furrowed her brow in confusion. “You mean…?”
“It’s not hers,” Leon said. “I can’t be 100 percent sure until I run tests, but I’d put money on it.”
Vanessa’s head spun with information both new and old. You know that full, heavy feeling you get when a poo is brewing in your guts? That’s kind of what Vanessa was feeling, only in her head instead of her stomach.
Leon was just as mystified by the whole thing as she was and stayed up late to run a few preliminary tests. By sunrise, he had confirmed that the blood inside of Heather’s stomach was not hers. In fact, it had come from at least three different sources. “Is it human?” Vanessa asked over the phone.
“Yes,” Leon said, sounding troubled, “it’s human.”
In the cobalt hour before sunrise, Vanessa sat at her desk and tried to piece this whole thing together. They had:
- A corpse that (allegedly) woke up and dipped out
- A dead girl who’d been stabbed in the heart with a piece of wood after somehow ingesting the blood of three different people.
- Some missing kids
- Oh, and both bodies - the girl’s and the runaway corpses’ - had the same weird fungus in their heart cavities.
The idea that vampires were real was dumb, but the more she turned it over in her mind, the more she became convinced that it was at least an option. A lot of things people thought were fantastic and made up turned out to be real, so why not vampires too?
Shortly after 8, Bruce came in. He was just sitting down when Vanessa came in and slapped her report on the desk. “Buckle up, bitch,” she said, “things just got weirder.”
He stared up at her with one of those grumpy - but cute -expressions he was so good at putting on. As he read, however, his brow knitted. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh.
“I have a theory - kind of,” Vanessa said, “but I don’t want to say it.”
“You might as well,” Bruce said. “It can’t be more kooky than reality these days.”
“Okay,” Vanessa started, “what if - and I’m just thinking out loud here - what if there are vampires in Albany?”
She expected Bruce to give her a dirty look, but he chewed it over, actually taking it seriously. “And those missing boys are victims?” he asked finally.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “That girl’s been dead two weeks. Maybe she bit Dominick Mason and he came back for revenge after realizing he was cursed to be a goddamn shit sucking vampire forever.”
Bruce nodded. “Yeah, but who turned her?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said, “I don’t know.”
***
Before dawn painted the eastern sky, Merrick Garvis sat in his chamber like a withered king, a mess of IVs hooked into his arms and neck. The vault was silent save for the soft noise of the machines as they filtered out the old embalming fluid and replaced it with new embalming fluid. Embalming fluid always made him spacy, like a drug. The others had gone first, and even now lay near comatose around him like addicts in an opium den.
As far as he knew, Merrick was the oldest vampire in the world, perhaps, even, the oldest vampire to ever live. Though he was not fully honest with Dom, he was not lying when he said that vampires rotted like any other dead thing. Conditions considered, you had a few weeks tops if left untreated. There may be living vampires in remote corners of Egypt or the northern most reaches of Russia, where the climate preserved dead things, but unless you made it to one of those places, you were pretty well fucked.
Merrick was not a proud man, nor was he concerned with saving face - the dead have no need for that. He was being truthful when he said that he feared death. What’s more, he feared being helpless. Deep down, vampires are people, and people don’t exactly have the greatest track record with caring for their infirm. He read once that the first sign of a civilization was a broken leg that had healed, as it showed that someone stayed with and cared for a fellow human long enough for them to get well again. In Merrick’s opinion, that was true…and thus there was no civilization. Merrick was fifty-one when he died in the year 1982. In his lifetime, he had seen The Great Depression, World War II, and a million small acts of cruelty and selfishness in between. He’d seen beggars starving in the streets, abused children shuffled out of sight and out of mind, and disdain for the poor and the weak.
The living were awful, and the living dead were no different. Once their humanity rotted away, they cared only about filling their stomachs. They were like ticks - they would drink until their bellies literally ruptured…and then keep on drinking.
That left him in a precarious position. He was old, his body was weak. He couldn’t stand unassisted and if left to fend for himself, he would decay into a pile of bones within days. He would be cursed to lay in one spot for all eternity, aware and hungry, little more than a ghost tethered to a black and still beating heart.
He refused to let that happen to him. Thus, he had created a family, a clan of vampires loyal to him and to him alone. He did this through acts of simple kindness and understanding…but also through deception. He knew, for instance, how to preserve the brain. He’d figured out how to do it early on - you pickle it. Like a fetus preserved in a jar. He sawed off the top of his own head and filled it with a special solution that kept his brain - and his intelligence - intact. It slowly drained out through the nose and ears in a thin, yellow liquid, but it worked well enough. He couldn’t save everything, however, and had lost vital things in the process, such as most of his human memories, his sense of humor, and some motor functions. He shared this secret with only Joe, and a few others before, because he needed a strong captain. He kept the others in the dark because vampires - like people - are easier to control when they don’t think for themselves.
Right about now, however, Merrick was beginning to regret sharing the formula with even Joe. Joe had brought him nothing but grief. Joe, you see, could think for himself. He could make decisions. He could go behind Merrick’s back. Joe had something called free will, and free will is a worse affliction than vampirism. Free will is messy, free will is dangerous.
Free will could very well turn Merrick into a pile of bones.
That was, of course, if they weren’t discovered first. Joe had made several mistakes lately, not least of which was the turning of Heather. Sitting there in the predawn hour, attended by Tony, his gay bartender and human familiar, Merrick decided to have Joe killed. There are only two ways to kill a vampire: The stake and the flame. The latter seemed somehow appropriate in this case. After Joe, there would be no more captains, only him, one father with absolute power. That was how it had to be. One man, one vision. Democracies didn’t work. That was especially clear today. Everyone was so divided and nothing ever got done. If the humans had one strong leader, they might go in the wrong direction, but at least they would go somewhere. Instead, they stagnated.
Merrick didn’t particularly look forward to killing Joe, but it had to be done. To protect the family. To protect him.
And Merrick would do anything…anything at all…to protect himself.
***
Vampires.
Bruce kept coming back to that single wor, hoping each time that he would chuckle at the absurdity of it.
But he never did.
Did that mean he believed it? Not necessarily, but damn it, he considered it a possibility, and that alone was enough to make him feel like a fucking clown. All the evidence he had pointed to vampires, but then again, it might point to other things as well. Like aliens.
But let’s say the whole vampire thing was real. Who, like Vanessa asked, was patient zero? Who started this whole mess?
A name came to mind.
Merrick Garvis.
He had not had time to check into Garvis the previous day, but by God, he was going to do it now. He ran his name and social through the system and everything seemed to check out. Merrick Garvis was born on June 31, 1963 in -
Wait a minute. Weren’t there only 30 days in June?
Bruce checked, and there were, indeed, only 30 days in the month of June. Hm. Bruce did a little digging and found something out. Before 1987, social security numbers weren’t issued at birth. You had to sign up, using other forms of ID. Merrick Garvis applied for his in April 1984 and the date of birth on his state issued driver’s license was June 31. Bruce spent an hour on the phone with the DMV and learned that they had never issued a license to a Merrick Garvis. He then spoke to the Social Security Administration, and after much wrangling and frustration, he managed to get a photocopy of the license Garvis used to get his social security number. It was dated 1983.
The face staring back at him was almost exactly the same face he’d seen at Club Vlad, except maybe a touch less stiff and waxy. Though not as rough looking, there was no way in hell Garvis was 20 in that picture. It had to be a fake,
Bruce thought back to the events of the previous two days. Missing bodies, staked corpses, hearts that still beat after death.
Vampires didn’t seem like such a crazy explanation.
And if anyone was a fucking vampire around here, it was Merrick Garvis.
2024.05.16 19:07 cfalnevermore My Messed Up Town: The Weird Nocturnal Hippy Chick
Here we are again in the shit stew that is the Fallowveil trailer park. We’ve got soul eating strippers, jobs that kill us, and plenty of weirdos, both the trailer trash and the potentially paranormal variety. It’s the place where even your own computer sometimes threatens to kill you. I can’t tell if I should be worried, or annoyed that all my neighbors have such irresponsible web habits. I know it’s not me that brings in all these machine wiping viruses.
So even though I got a system error that literally said “you’re useless and you should die” I’m less interested in that. Stupid thing. Like I don’t already know I’m useless. That’s not what I’m depressed about.
Well… I suppose it's tangentially related.
I hope anyone reading will forgive me. I’m feeling the sting of rejection right now. It was really stupid of me to ask. Especially now. Nobody here really likes me. They’ve only been nice to me as a courtesy because I was almost involved in a god damn shootout. And my idiot self decided that was the perfect time to push one of my few friends all the way away. Never ask your friends out on dates. It ruins everything.
So there’s this woman. I’ve talked about her in the past. Trista Ramone. She lives in the far back corner of the trailer park. You can instantly tell which unit is hers because she’s covered every square inch of the property with gardens and a rabbit hutch. The place usually has beads and colorful flags hanging on its walls as well. She’s kind of a right winger’s nightmare. I know some of those flags represent various lgbtq plus communities.
She and I have been friendly in the past. We’re both night shift workers. We crossed paths quite a bit going to and from work so we struck up a friendship over the years.
Let’s just ripped the band aid off. Recently I’ve started thinking I had… stronger feelings for Trista. I got stupid and decided to tell her about them. She wasn’t interested. I get why. We have very different lifestyles. I like meat, and she thinks the meat industry is murder. I’m not willing to give up meat, and she’s not willing to give up her beliefs. It's as simple as that. Now things are incredibly awkward with one of my closer friends and I’m still spiraling into self loathing, where I belong.
She swore up and down that she absolutely still wants to be friends with me, but I’m not sure I believe her. The look she gave me when I told her I’d like to ask her out. It looked like sadness, but a small part of me is convinced it was pity, or worse, disgust and loathing, and that small part gave me ever shuts the fuck up. But anyway, she gave me permission to write about her.
She is one of the creepy fixtures of our little neighborhood after all. She told me to make her seem as insane and scary as I possibly could and that she should get to kill me at the end. She also handed me a few of her high school yearbooks, advised me to chat with another neighbor of ours who she went to school with, and to only use creepy rumors for the rest.
Part of me is really willing to describe her as awful, but that’s just my anger. I don’t like that part of me. Trista’s not a bad person at all. She’s just weird and she doesn’t want to date me. God damn it, Petunia’s right. I need therapy.
So, I’ve told the story of the sexy, scary lady living in a polycule here in the trailer park. I think she’s got a bigger heart than she lets on. I’ve talked about the stories surrounding the Schroeder Slaughterhouse. Now let’s talk about the hippy everyone thinks is a vampire.
She’s a taller woman, maybe five-seven or eight, and she’s skinny. Her typical wardrobe is… interesting. Try to imagine your typical new-age hippy/stoner girl, wearing colorful sarongs, crop-tops, beanies, baggy sweaters, T-shirts with colorful sayings on them, sandals, boots woven from some sort of exotic plant, beaded necklaces, bracelets, a few too many piercings and some intricate tattoos. Can you picture that kind of person? Well, take that and dip them in “goth” dye. Everything is black, and contrasts to her pale white complexion, her eyes are this unusual violet color, and then make the woman wearing all that seem kind of depressed about something. That’s the look Trista has going on. Like if Wednesday Addams was forced to dress up for Hippy Day.
I’ve heard people call her an emo vampire, but as a former emo myself, she doesn’t fill out all the criteria. She doesn’t typically wear any super tight pants or cake on the eyeshadow. I guess she’s just Trista. It might sound weird (and it is) but the whole thing suits her. Her style, tattoos, and complexion all create this image of skinny vampiric waif with a mysterious past and a freaky sarcastic attitude and I found the whole thing… kinda hot.
Trista keeps to herself. She’s made the most out of her little corner of the trailer park. Like I said, she decked out her unit with garden squares, and a Rabbit pen. No idea why she’s allowed to do that. A lot of these places don’t allow pets. I heard she was also trying to put in a beehive too, but her neighbors are fighting her on that one. Our park is a bit too condensed for bees. She has a permit to grow hemp, but of course it’s not for recreational use. She treats it and uses it to weave things like handbags, clothes, and other stuff. There’s a consignment store in town that sells all kinds of things Trista has crafted herself. So she’s handy and self sufficient too. She paints, she carves wood, she weaves, she crochets, she sews, and who knows what else. She’s so good at her little crafts that apparently she’s able to support herself just selling them and working part time at the Moonlight Inn outside of town.
She’s also relatively friendly. I almost feel bad calling her weird, but here’s the thing, I’ve seen some REALLY weird shit. People jokingly call her a vampire, and she seems to embrace that, but part of me seriously wonders. The big clue is, like I mentioned, she’s completely nocturnal. She’s always asleep during the day, and every blind and curtain is drawn tight. The one time she came out during the day, she had on this full body suit with a helmet with UV glass and everything. Even then, she only showed up to give Petunia a hug, before leaving again.
That was the first time I saw Trista, come to think of it. I was kind of intrigued. It was kind of hard not to be when someone shows up to a community cookout in a freaking astronaut suit. I approached Petunia after she left.
“Who the heck was that?” I wondered.
“MASON! I’m so glad you could make it! You’ve been here about three months now! How’d that job interview go?”
“Oh. It went well. I might be doing janitorial work soon.”
“Night shift?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“If it’s the night shift, you’ll definitely meet the person who just left. That’s Trista. She’s the girl with the rabbits in the far corner. Poor girl. She’s got a really bad skin condition. Can’t let sunlight touch her.”
“Oh. Is she like… albino or something?”
“No, she’s got pigment. I don’t remember what the condition is called. I guess it started in high school or something. You’d have to ask her. And hey! If you work the night shift, you’ll probably get to chat with her!”
Petunia wasn’t wrong. I started working as a nighttime janitor for a number of local businesses. That was when I first started noticing the pale goth hippy. She rides around on a moped, with her dark hair and her sarong barely billowing behind her. I couldn’t see her face through the helmet, but she waved to me as she passed by.
The next time I saw her, she was jogging, but here’s where it gets weird. When I first stepped outside, all I saw was a blur. It actually startled me as I whipped toward it, but then there was this skinny tattooed pixie, somehow still looking like a stonehippy/vampire in jogging gear. I swear she was moving inhumanly fast when I first noticed her. That was when we introduced ourselves. She actually jogged over to say hello.
“Hey! You’re the new guy right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. My name’s Mason!” I reached out to shake the pretty girl’s hand, like an awkward loser. She smirked and shook my hand. Her grip was weirdly strong, and a bit cold.
“I’m Trista. I’m the weirdo in the back with the rabbits.”
“Trista… oh, are you the one who has a thing with sunlight? I think Petunia mentioned you.”
“Yup! That’s me. Xerodoma pigmentosum. Sunlight hurts. I hate that it hurts.” She lamented.
“That’s gotta be rough,” I said sympathetically.
“You get used to it. You work at night?”
“Yeah. Works better for me.”
“I get that.”
And so on and so on. She’s pretty cool, with a bit of hilarious snark in there. And she secretly procured recreational weed she was willing to share. I kept working the night shift just hoping for another chance to talk to her and possibly buy a joint. Eventually she invited me over to share a joint. The inside of her place was actually pretty sparse and spartan compared to the outside. Though she was a fan of hanging beads. Most of the main room was taken up by her various crafting projects and supplies. Hemp weaves, some paintings, and even a wood carving of what I think was a rabbit, but it wasn’t anywhere near complete.
I followed her to her kitchen where she reached into the very back of her pantry and pulled out a shoebox. Inside was her stash, but there was something else which I found very strange. It was a pack of syringes and a thing I assume is to sterilize syringes. I know what you’re thinking, and that was my first thought too. It’s a poor neighborhood, the woman already smokes weed illegally, it’s not that big a shock that maybe she was involved in other drugs too. I decided not to ask at the time. We shared our joint, and we laughed, a lot. She made fun of me for being a lightweight, while I got completely hypnotized staring at the patterns of a shawl she had woven.
Months went by and we got closer, but I couldn’t forget those syringes. After a while I got worried. I’ve seen what heroine does to people. So the next time I went over to smoke and eat (vegan) pizza with her, I asked.
“Trista? Are you using anything other than weed?”
“Drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Why?”
“You can tell me if you are.”
“Mason, sweetheart, I’m a stoner. I don’t fuck around with anything else and I never have.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. Can I ask what that set of syringes are for?”
“Oh. In my stash box? Those are… part of my condition. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh. Is it like… embarrassing?”
“Yeah. So don’t ask. Can we just watch a movie?”
So I don't ask anymore. But I still have no idea what she does with those syringes. Based on what I read about that Xerodoma Pigmentosum thing she says she has, I have no clue what she would need to inject herself with.
Another time she asked me to check on her rabbits for her during the day, as her usual “sitter” had something come up. All I had to do was chop up the lettuce and carrots she left out. As I was enjoying the adorable fluffy faces, one of Trista’s neighbors, a woman named Bridget, poked her head outside her door.
“Hey. Do you know what Trista injects those rabbits with?”
“I… what?”
“I’ve seen her use syringes on those rabbits. She said she was just giving them medicine, but I swear I see her inject them every week.”
“I… I wouldn't know. She just asked me to feed them.”
“I love Trista, but that always seemed so weird. She has to know vaccines are a hoax!” I tuned the woman out after that one. My mind was on that set of syringes. Why would she be using them on rabbits? These things were her pets.
I was starting to crush on her by then. But I couldn’t help feeling weirded out by that. I was actually going to confront her, but the next time I came to visit, she was literally inside the Rabbit hutch, on her back, squealing with delight as her rabbit friends nuzzled and played with her.
“Bonnibelle! That tickles! Marcy! No chewing. Finn? Watch where you’re sticking that foot! Jake? Where are you? EEEEE Lumpy! Not the neck!”
It was as silly and adorable as it sounds. She was forced to whip herself upright when two of her little friends tried to burrow under her dress. She finally stood up with a laugh, cradling a rabbit in her arms and cooing at it.
There was just no way in hell this woman was doing anything that would hurt these animals. Bridget is a paranoid antivax weirdo anyway. If Trista was using syringes on the rabbits, I was convinced it was only for their benefit.
So life went on. I got more and more reclusive over the years. Petunia, Trista, and my next door neighbor Fred were the only things keeping me remotely connected to the outside. And so we get to now. So let’s see. What are the stories about the weird vampire woman?
Well, there’s the fact that she jogs at night, solo, in a poor neighborhood. Petunia keeps the shitty people contained and behaving for the most part, but I still wouldn’t exactly call it safe, especially for a young skinny woman. But she does it without a care in the world.
There’s one strange event that some people like to connect to this. I never knew this guy, but from what I hear he was a total weirdo who leered at anyone even remotely female. And this is despite the fact he was married. His name was Josh.
I remember him a bit. He’s the guy that Petunia chased away from one of her barbecues. Supposedly he was heard saying inappropriate things to the groups of ten year old girls that were playing in the bounce house Petunia rented. Telling them how pretty they were. Trying to coax them to take off their jackets. Police reports were filed but ultimately nothing could be proven. The guy's wife, Carole, always defends him for some reason.
But anyway, I remember hanging out with Trista one night a little over a year ago. She hadn’t gone jogging like she normally did. I asked her what was up with that.
“That weirdo, Josh has started catcalling when I pass his place. It weirds me out.”
“There aren’t other people who do that at night? I’m still shocked you jog alone.”
“Not like this. I can flip off a wolf whistler. But this guy… he keeps trying to get me to stop and talk to him, and when I don’t? He shouts about my ass. I’m gonna have to talk to Petunia about that shithead, if anybody can reign him in, it’s her.”
I’m gonna guess she never got a chance. Two days later, the whole town was awoken by sirens. I was getting ready for my shift when I heard them. I walked down the road a bit to see if I could figure out what was going on. The cops were heading toward the other side of the park, so I couldn’t see much. But I did notice Trista, in her jogging gear, skulking in the shadows. I wondered if she was in trouble. But before I could call out to her, she sprinted straight to Petunia's house and banged on the door. Petunia welcomed her inside, and that was all I saw. I still wasn’t sure what was going on, so I just shrugged and headed to work, figuring I’d text Trista later.
I didn’t learn till later that Josh was found dead. He was lying prone, face down, partly hidden by bushes at the edge of the park. His neck was cut open. He’d bled out rapidly. He had a knife in his hand, and officially it’s believed he fell on it and accidentally killed himself. There was a cocktail of drugs in his system so most people accept that explanation. But others swear they saw Trista out for her jog around the same time Josh would have been bleeding to death. She got questioned, and she swore she didn’t see anything. Without evidence, there was nothing else that could be proven.
Trista’s a friend. I know that guy was being creepy to her. So I’m happy to take her word for what happened, even if my seeing her going to Petunia’s pokes a bit of a hole in that. I can’t be sure it was Trista though. So I’m not saying a word. But if a certain creep attacked a certain lady who is rumored to be a vampire, it’s not that surprising to me that he ended up dead after bleeding to death. I’m not all that broken up about it.
I’m not the one spreading that story. Josh’s wife was the one who started the rumor. So now some people are even more convinced that the weird nocturnal hippy chick is secretly a vampire.
She’s no killer. No matter what they say. She would only have defended herself.
So that’s all the stories I’ve heard that have any credibility to them. There’s more people who swear she and Petunia perform weird rituals, and people who saw her moving “inhumanly fast” and such.
But now I have to share what I found in the yearbooks Trista gave me. I wasn’t really expecting much. I checked her senior yearbook out first. She looks about the same. Pale, goth, hippy, and sort of sad. She kind of looks even sadder in these photos if I’m being honest, but that’s high school for you. She graduated in the top half of her class, no sports or extracurriculars. I’m left wondering how she managed to go to school at the time of sun was so bad for her. I’ll have to ask her about that. So nothing really new there.
It was the yearbook from her junior year where things got really interesting. I was in shock when I found her. Trista is somehow impossible to miss, but unrecognizable all at once. She’s full of color! She wore more typical tie dye hippy attire. Bright vibrant pinks, reds, blues, greens, and yellows, in every photo, and holy shit was she busy. Captain of the soccer team, first chair flutist, president of the “green living” club and the “vegan alliance,” top ten in her class, it was all incredible. I think the main reason I didn’t recognize her was her skin. It was tan, as though she were out in the sun a lot. Furthermore there were photos of her playing sports and standing outside in bright sunlight.
It was like her disease wasn’t there, which confused me. She told me it was something called Xeroderma Pigmentosa. But that’s a genetic condition. She would have had that from birth.
I sent her a text, wondering about this.
- Hey! Just went through your yearbooks. What happened? You had color? Did you discover Linkin Park?
- My disease happened. Right at the end of Jr. year. That’s why I wasn’t there for the final class photo.
- But your disease is genetic… isn’t it?
- I guess it was dormant in me.
- So it just… happened?
- Pretty much.
- I’m sorry.
- I got over it. Mostly. It was hard. My parents were both hardcore vegan naturalists and we lived in a place that was all natural light and such, so I had to live in a shed for a bit while they built a space for me. But in my family? We kinda lean into whatever life throws at us. It took months of depression to come to terms with it. All of a sudden I couldn’t be out in the sun, and I had new dietary needs that absolutely required non-vegan sources. So I leaned into it. I was a vampire now. I can dig dark colors and “vampire style.” I could make it my own by avoiding leather. And I’d be as vegan as I possibly could.
- You’re kind of awesome.
- Damn straight. So I learned to love the night too and now, here I am.
I gained new respect for her after that. Frankly I feel kinda shitty about making fun of her for being a vampire. There might not be anything paranormally weird about her after all.
She sent me one more text telling me I should talk to a guy named Frankie. She’d gone to school with him. He’s a decent enough guy. Works in the Bicounty mall in town.
I had to wait a day or two for another of Petunia’s get togethers to talk to him.
“Hey!” I said awkwardly as I tried to figure out how to strike up conversation with someone I haven’t really spoken to in a long time. “Frankie, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Been a while. How are you Mason? You okay after that whole thing at Red Nights?”
“I’m trying to be. Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You went to school with Trista Ramone, right?”
“Ol’ Boho Ramone? Yeah. We were sort of friendly. But I was a jerk to vegans back then. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been hanging out with her. She’s being all mysterious.” He chuckled at that. “She said I should talk to you to learn more about her… weirdness? Everyone thinks she’s a vampire now.”
“She’s totally a vampire. I have no idea what else to call her?”
“Why do you say that?”
“What did she tell you about school?”
“Nothing. She just showed me two yearbooks. Between Junior and Senior year she went from colorful club president, to lonely vampire, because of her disease.”
“Nah man. I don’t want to talk bad about her. But she was kind of a bitch, junior year. She wasn’t just a colorful vegan. She was one of those “holier than thou” types who scoffed and talked down to anyone who dared to eat meat. Her “hippy” thing meant she never hung out with the popular girls but still, she acted like she owned the place at times. I was friends with this weird guy named Steven Jones. He was just kind of a weirdo. Skulking around in the background, you know? He HATED Trista. For a while I totally understood. I thought she was kinda stuck up. But this guy was like… irrationally enraged by that girl’s existence. I guess he tried to ask her out when he was a freshman and she politely declined. But he took that shit personally.”
“Huh. So like… why’s that matter?”
“Because Steven kept saying to anyone who gave him a second look, that he was gonna ‘ruin’ her. Never elaborated. But then the last month of school rolls around, Trista gets assaulted by an unknown assailant and a week later she’s got this new disease. Meanwhile, Steven spent a week strutting around the school looking smug, and saying ‘she got what she deserved.’ Then he disappears too. Teachers said he moved away.”
“She was assaulted?”
“Yeah. Someone in a face wrap tackled her while she was at one of her protests at the meat factory. The dude freaking BIT her.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I was there. I came to the protest. I’ll admit I was trying to hit on Trista or one of the other girls there. But yeah. Dude dressed in all gray with a face wrap just charged in and went right for Trista. Knocked her down, bit her like a freaking zombie, then ran away before anyone could stop him. Didn’t even take his face wrap off. It was freaky, man.”
“What the actual fuck.”
“That’s what we all said. Trista needed a stitch. But while she was at the hospital, I guess she started getting more symptoms. She was out for the rest of the year. From then on, she was like she is now. Total vampire.”
“Was Steven a vampire?”
“I dunno. Probably. Little dickhead is what he is. Must have been him that attacked Trista, but nobody could prove it. Bite mark didn’t match or something. So why are you asking? You hang out with her at night right? You asking her out or something?”
“Oh. No. Just a friend.”
That was all I really learned from Frankie. It’s quite a story, and it’s full of unknowns that Trista refuses to explain. So I guess I’ll let readers be the judge. Is she a “real” vampire? Or just a weirdo? All I know is, she’s totally standing behind me right now and now I’m dead. Bleh.
I did come back to life to talk to Trista once I finished writing this. She enjoyed it. I may as well include that interaction.
I went to her place on my night off. She read my take on her and what the neighbors thought and she grinned. “Ha! I’m a total monster!” She chuckled. “So. What do YOU think, Mason? Am I a vampire?” She cocked an eye and playfully gnashes her teeth at me, making a pleasant little click.
I sighed. “No idea. You’re Trista. And… you’re my friend. I’m sorry if I made things awkward.”
She looked surprised by that. “Aw. Thanks Mason. You’re my friend too. It’s okay. I’m flattered.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Absolutely not. We’re both weird shut ins.” She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. It made me happy.
“Yeah but I got the ‘mysterious vampire’ thing going.”
“You have dirt in your hair from rolling around with bunnies. And you’re a vegan.”
“Bite me.”
“Says the vampire.”
“You know, if I were a vampire, I could have bitten you when we both went to the slaughterhouses a few weeks ago.”
“That just makes me stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Mason. You’re not a loser either.”
“So. You know of any other good spooky town stories that I can do next?
“Oh, sure. You ever heard the tale of Salome? She was a witch who would mash up the seeds of a Sinapis Alba plant to make a diabolical potion she’d dump on herself. They called her the ‘Witch of the Sands.’”
I’m embarrassed to admit it took me four days to realize Trista was just fucking with me. I only figured it out when I looked up Sinapis Alba and learned that mashing the seeds just makes mustard. “Salomi the sand-witch.” Well played, vampire hippy…
Sexy Neighbor
Haunted Slaughterhouse
submitted by cfalnevermore to scarystories [link] [comments]
So even though I got a system error that literally said “you’re useless and you should die” I’m less interested in that. Stupid thing. Like I don’t already know I’m useless. That’s not what I’m depressed about.
Well… I suppose it's tangentially related.
I hope anyone reading will forgive me. I’m feeling the sting of rejection right now. It was really stupid of me to ask. Especially now. Nobody here really likes me. They’ve only been nice to me as a courtesy because I was almost involved in a god damn shootout. And my idiot self decided that was the perfect time to push one of my few friends all the way away. Never ask your friends out on dates. It ruins everything.
So there’s this woman. I’ve talked about her in the past. Trista Ramone. She lives in the far back corner of the trailer park. You can instantly tell which unit is hers because she’s covered every square inch of the property with gardens and a rabbit hutch. The place usually has beads and colorful flags hanging on its walls as well. She’s kind of a right winger’s nightmare. I know some of those flags represent various lgbtq plus communities.
She and I have been friendly in the past. We’re both night shift workers. We crossed paths quite a bit going to and from work so we struck up a friendship over the years.
Let’s just ripped the band aid off. Recently I’ve started thinking I had… stronger feelings for Trista. I got stupid and decided to tell her about them. She wasn’t interested. I get why. We have very different lifestyles. I like meat, and she thinks the meat industry is murder. I’m not willing to give up meat, and she’s not willing to give up her beliefs. It's as simple as that. Now things are incredibly awkward with one of my closer friends and I’m still spiraling into self loathing, where I belong.
She swore up and down that she absolutely still wants to be friends with me, but I’m not sure I believe her. The look she gave me when I told her I’d like to ask her out. It looked like sadness, but a small part of me is convinced it was pity, or worse, disgust and loathing, and that small part gave me ever shuts the fuck up. But anyway, she gave me permission to write about her.
She is one of the creepy fixtures of our little neighborhood after all. She told me to make her seem as insane and scary as I possibly could and that she should get to kill me at the end. She also handed me a few of her high school yearbooks, advised me to chat with another neighbor of ours who she went to school with, and to only use creepy rumors for the rest.
Part of me is really willing to describe her as awful, but that’s just my anger. I don’t like that part of me. Trista’s not a bad person at all. She’s just weird and she doesn’t want to date me. God damn it, Petunia’s right. I need therapy.
So, I’ve told the story of the sexy, scary lady living in a polycule here in the trailer park. I think she’s got a bigger heart than she lets on. I’ve talked about the stories surrounding the Schroeder Slaughterhouse. Now let’s talk about the hippy everyone thinks is a vampire.
She’s a taller woman, maybe five-seven or eight, and she’s skinny. Her typical wardrobe is… interesting. Try to imagine your typical new-age hippy/stoner girl, wearing colorful sarongs, crop-tops, beanies, baggy sweaters, T-shirts with colorful sayings on them, sandals, boots woven from some sort of exotic plant, beaded necklaces, bracelets, a few too many piercings and some intricate tattoos. Can you picture that kind of person? Well, take that and dip them in “goth” dye. Everything is black, and contrasts to her pale white complexion, her eyes are this unusual violet color, and then make the woman wearing all that seem kind of depressed about something. That’s the look Trista has going on. Like if Wednesday Addams was forced to dress up for Hippy Day.
I’ve heard people call her an emo vampire, but as a former emo myself, she doesn’t fill out all the criteria. She doesn’t typically wear any super tight pants or cake on the eyeshadow. I guess she’s just Trista. It might sound weird (and it is) but the whole thing suits her. Her style, tattoos, and complexion all create this image of skinny vampiric waif with a mysterious past and a freaky sarcastic attitude and I found the whole thing… kinda hot.
Trista keeps to herself. She’s made the most out of her little corner of the trailer park. Like I said, she decked out her unit with garden squares, and a Rabbit pen. No idea why she’s allowed to do that. A lot of these places don’t allow pets. I heard she was also trying to put in a beehive too, but her neighbors are fighting her on that one. Our park is a bit too condensed for bees. She has a permit to grow hemp, but of course it’s not for recreational use. She treats it and uses it to weave things like handbags, clothes, and other stuff. There’s a consignment store in town that sells all kinds of things Trista has crafted herself. So she’s handy and self sufficient too. She paints, she carves wood, she weaves, she crochets, she sews, and who knows what else. She’s so good at her little crafts that apparently she’s able to support herself just selling them and working part time at the Moonlight Inn outside of town.
She’s also relatively friendly. I almost feel bad calling her weird, but here’s the thing, I’ve seen some REALLY weird shit. People jokingly call her a vampire, and she seems to embrace that, but part of me seriously wonders. The big clue is, like I mentioned, she’s completely nocturnal. She’s always asleep during the day, and every blind and curtain is drawn tight. The one time she came out during the day, she had on this full body suit with a helmet with UV glass and everything. Even then, she only showed up to give Petunia a hug, before leaving again.
That was the first time I saw Trista, come to think of it. I was kind of intrigued. It was kind of hard not to be when someone shows up to a community cookout in a freaking astronaut suit. I approached Petunia after she left.
“Who the heck was that?” I wondered.
“MASON! I’m so glad you could make it! You’ve been here about three months now! How’d that job interview go?”
“Oh. It went well. I might be doing janitorial work soon.”
“Night shift?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“If it’s the night shift, you’ll definitely meet the person who just left. That’s Trista. She’s the girl with the rabbits in the far corner. Poor girl. She’s got a really bad skin condition. Can’t let sunlight touch her.”
“Oh. Is she like… albino or something?”
“No, she’s got pigment. I don’t remember what the condition is called. I guess it started in high school or something. You’d have to ask her. And hey! If you work the night shift, you’ll probably get to chat with her!”
Petunia wasn’t wrong. I started working as a nighttime janitor for a number of local businesses. That was when I first started noticing the pale goth hippy. She rides around on a moped, with her dark hair and her sarong barely billowing behind her. I couldn’t see her face through the helmet, but she waved to me as she passed by.
The next time I saw her, she was jogging, but here’s where it gets weird. When I first stepped outside, all I saw was a blur. It actually startled me as I whipped toward it, but then there was this skinny tattooed pixie, somehow still looking like a stonehippy/vampire in jogging gear. I swear she was moving inhumanly fast when I first noticed her. That was when we introduced ourselves. She actually jogged over to say hello.
“Hey! You’re the new guy right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. My name’s Mason!” I reached out to shake the pretty girl’s hand, like an awkward loser. She smirked and shook my hand. Her grip was weirdly strong, and a bit cold.
“I’m Trista. I’m the weirdo in the back with the rabbits.”
“Trista… oh, are you the one who has a thing with sunlight? I think Petunia mentioned you.”
“Yup! That’s me. Xerodoma pigmentosum. Sunlight hurts. I hate that it hurts.” She lamented.
“That’s gotta be rough,” I said sympathetically.
“You get used to it. You work at night?”
“Yeah. Works better for me.”
“I get that.”
And so on and so on. She’s pretty cool, with a bit of hilarious snark in there. And she secretly procured recreational weed she was willing to share. I kept working the night shift just hoping for another chance to talk to her and possibly buy a joint. Eventually she invited me over to share a joint. The inside of her place was actually pretty sparse and spartan compared to the outside. Though she was a fan of hanging beads. Most of the main room was taken up by her various crafting projects and supplies. Hemp weaves, some paintings, and even a wood carving of what I think was a rabbit, but it wasn’t anywhere near complete.
I followed her to her kitchen where she reached into the very back of her pantry and pulled out a shoebox. Inside was her stash, but there was something else which I found very strange. It was a pack of syringes and a thing I assume is to sterilize syringes. I know what you’re thinking, and that was my first thought too. It’s a poor neighborhood, the woman already smokes weed illegally, it’s not that big a shock that maybe she was involved in other drugs too. I decided not to ask at the time. We shared our joint, and we laughed, a lot. She made fun of me for being a lightweight, while I got completely hypnotized staring at the patterns of a shawl she had woven.
Months went by and we got closer, but I couldn’t forget those syringes. After a while I got worried. I’ve seen what heroine does to people. So the next time I went over to smoke and eat (vegan) pizza with her, I asked.
“Trista? Are you using anything other than weed?”
“Drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Why?”
“You can tell me if you are.”
“Mason, sweetheart, I’m a stoner. I don’t fuck around with anything else and I never have.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. Can I ask what that set of syringes are for?”
“Oh. In my stash box? Those are… part of my condition. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh. Is it like… embarrassing?”
“Yeah. So don’t ask. Can we just watch a movie?”
So I don't ask anymore. But I still have no idea what she does with those syringes. Based on what I read about that Xerodoma Pigmentosum thing she says she has, I have no clue what she would need to inject herself with.
Another time she asked me to check on her rabbits for her during the day, as her usual “sitter” had something come up. All I had to do was chop up the lettuce and carrots she left out. As I was enjoying the adorable fluffy faces, one of Trista’s neighbors, a woman named Bridget, poked her head outside her door.
“Hey. Do you know what Trista injects those rabbits with?”
“I… what?”
“I’ve seen her use syringes on those rabbits. She said she was just giving them medicine, but I swear I see her inject them every week.”
“I… I wouldn't know. She just asked me to feed them.”
“I love Trista, but that always seemed so weird. She has to know vaccines are a hoax!” I tuned the woman out after that one. My mind was on that set of syringes. Why would she be using them on rabbits? These things were her pets.
I was starting to crush on her by then. But I couldn’t help feeling weirded out by that. I was actually going to confront her, but the next time I came to visit, she was literally inside the Rabbit hutch, on her back, squealing with delight as her rabbit friends nuzzled and played with her.
“Bonnibelle! That tickles! Marcy! No chewing. Finn? Watch where you’re sticking that foot! Jake? Where are you? EEEEE Lumpy! Not the neck!”
It was as silly and adorable as it sounds. She was forced to whip herself upright when two of her little friends tried to burrow under her dress. She finally stood up with a laugh, cradling a rabbit in her arms and cooing at it.
There was just no way in hell this woman was doing anything that would hurt these animals. Bridget is a paranoid antivax weirdo anyway. If Trista was using syringes on the rabbits, I was convinced it was only for their benefit.
So life went on. I got more and more reclusive over the years. Petunia, Trista, and my next door neighbor Fred were the only things keeping me remotely connected to the outside. And so we get to now. So let’s see. What are the stories about the weird vampire woman?
Well, there’s the fact that she jogs at night, solo, in a poor neighborhood. Petunia keeps the shitty people contained and behaving for the most part, but I still wouldn’t exactly call it safe, especially for a young skinny woman. But she does it without a care in the world.
There’s one strange event that some people like to connect to this. I never knew this guy, but from what I hear he was a total weirdo who leered at anyone even remotely female. And this is despite the fact he was married. His name was Josh.
I remember him a bit. He’s the guy that Petunia chased away from one of her barbecues. Supposedly he was heard saying inappropriate things to the groups of ten year old girls that were playing in the bounce house Petunia rented. Telling them how pretty they were. Trying to coax them to take off their jackets. Police reports were filed but ultimately nothing could be proven. The guy's wife, Carole, always defends him for some reason.
But anyway, I remember hanging out with Trista one night a little over a year ago. She hadn’t gone jogging like she normally did. I asked her what was up with that.
“That weirdo, Josh has started catcalling when I pass his place. It weirds me out.”
“There aren’t other people who do that at night? I’m still shocked you jog alone.”
“Not like this. I can flip off a wolf whistler. But this guy… he keeps trying to get me to stop and talk to him, and when I don’t? He shouts about my ass. I’m gonna have to talk to Petunia about that shithead, if anybody can reign him in, it’s her.”
I’m gonna guess she never got a chance. Two days later, the whole town was awoken by sirens. I was getting ready for my shift when I heard them. I walked down the road a bit to see if I could figure out what was going on. The cops were heading toward the other side of the park, so I couldn’t see much. But I did notice Trista, in her jogging gear, skulking in the shadows. I wondered if she was in trouble. But before I could call out to her, she sprinted straight to Petunia's house and banged on the door. Petunia welcomed her inside, and that was all I saw. I still wasn’t sure what was going on, so I just shrugged and headed to work, figuring I’d text Trista later.
I didn’t learn till later that Josh was found dead. He was lying prone, face down, partly hidden by bushes at the edge of the park. His neck was cut open. He’d bled out rapidly. He had a knife in his hand, and officially it’s believed he fell on it and accidentally killed himself. There was a cocktail of drugs in his system so most people accept that explanation. But others swear they saw Trista out for her jog around the same time Josh would have been bleeding to death. She got questioned, and she swore she didn’t see anything. Without evidence, there was nothing else that could be proven.
Trista’s a friend. I know that guy was being creepy to her. So I’m happy to take her word for what happened, even if my seeing her going to Petunia’s pokes a bit of a hole in that. I can’t be sure it was Trista though. So I’m not saying a word. But if a certain creep attacked a certain lady who is rumored to be a vampire, it’s not that surprising to me that he ended up dead after bleeding to death. I’m not all that broken up about it.
I’m not the one spreading that story. Josh’s wife was the one who started the rumor. So now some people are even more convinced that the weird nocturnal hippy chick is secretly a vampire.
She’s no killer. No matter what they say. She would only have defended herself.
So that’s all the stories I’ve heard that have any credibility to them. There’s more people who swear she and Petunia perform weird rituals, and people who saw her moving “inhumanly fast” and such.
But now I have to share what I found in the yearbooks Trista gave me. I wasn’t really expecting much. I checked her senior yearbook out first. She looks about the same. Pale, goth, hippy, and sort of sad. She kind of looks even sadder in these photos if I’m being honest, but that’s high school for you. She graduated in the top half of her class, no sports or extracurriculars. I’m left wondering how she managed to go to school at the time of sun was so bad for her. I’ll have to ask her about that. So nothing really new there.
It was the yearbook from her junior year where things got really interesting. I was in shock when I found her. Trista is somehow impossible to miss, but unrecognizable all at once. She’s full of color! She wore more typical tie dye hippy attire. Bright vibrant pinks, reds, blues, greens, and yellows, in every photo, and holy shit was she busy. Captain of the soccer team, first chair flutist, president of the “green living” club and the “vegan alliance,” top ten in her class, it was all incredible. I think the main reason I didn’t recognize her was her skin. It was tan, as though she were out in the sun a lot. Furthermore there were photos of her playing sports and standing outside in bright sunlight.
It was like her disease wasn’t there, which confused me. She told me it was something called Xeroderma Pigmentosa. But that’s a genetic condition. She would have had that from birth.
I sent her a text, wondering about this.
- Hey! Just went through your yearbooks. What happened? You had color? Did you discover Linkin Park?
- My disease happened. Right at the end of Jr. year. That’s why I wasn’t there for the final class photo.
- But your disease is genetic… isn’t it?
- I guess it was dormant in me.
- So it just… happened?
- Pretty much.
- I’m sorry.
- I got over it. Mostly. It was hard. My parents were both hardcore vegan naturalists and we lived in a place that was all natural light and such, so I had to live in a shed for a bit while they built a space for me. But in my family? We kinda lean into whatever life throws at us. It took months of depression to come to terms with it. All of a sudden I couldn’t be out in the sun, and I had new dietary needs that absolutely required non-vegan sources. So I leaned into it. I was a vampire now. I can dig dark colors and “vampire style.” I could make it my own by avoiding leather. And I’d be as vegan as I possibly could.
- You’re kind of awesome.
- Damn straight. So I learned to love the night too and now, here I am.
I gained new respect for her after that. Frankly I feel kinda shitty about making fun of her for being a vampire. There might not be anything paranormally weird about her after all.
She sent me one more text telling me I should talk to a guy named Frankie. She’d gone to school with him. He’s a decent enough guy. Works in the Bicounty mall in town.
I had to wait a day or two for another of Petunia’s get togethers to talk to him.
“Hey!” I said awkwardly as I tried to figure out how to strike up conversation with someone I haven’t really spoken to in a long time. “Frankie, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Been a while. How are you Mason? You okay after that whole thing at Red Nights?”
“I’m trying to be. Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You went to school with Trista Ramone, right?”
“Ol’ Boho Ramone? Yeah. We were sort of friendly. But I was a jerk to vegans back then. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been hanging out with her. She’s being all mysterious.” He chuckled at that. “She said I should talk to you to learn more about her… weirdness? Everyone thinks she’s a vampire now.”
“She’s totally a vampire. I have no idea what else to call her?”
“Why do you say that?”
“What did she tell you about school?”
“Nothing. She just showed me two yearbooks. Between Junior and Senior year she went from colorful club president, to lonely vampire, because of her disease.”
“Nah man. I don’t want to talk bad about her. But she was kind of a bitch, junior year. She wasn’t just a colorful vegan. She was one of those “holier than thou” types who scoffed and talked down to anyone who dared to eat meat. Her “hippy” thing meant she never hung out with the popular girls but still, she acted like she owned the place at times. I was friends with this weird guy named Steven Jones. He was just kind of a weirdo. Skulking around in the background, you know? He HATED Trista. For a while I totally understood. I thought she was kinda stuck up. But this guy was like… irrationally enraged by that girl’s existence. I guess he tried to ask her out when he was a freshman and she politely declined. But he took that shit personally.”
“Huh. So like… why’s that matter?”
“Because Steven kept saying to anyone who gave him a second look, that he was gonna ‘ruin’ her. Never elaborated. But then the last month of school rolls around, Trista gets assaulted by an unknown assailant and a week later she’s got this new disease. Meanwhile, Steven spent a week strutting around the school looking smug, and saying ‘she got what she deserved.’ Then he disappears too. Teachers said he moved away.”
“She was assaulted?”
“Yeah. Someone in a face wrap tackled her while she was at one of her protests at the meat factory. The dude freaking BIT her.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I was there. I came to the protest. I’ll admit I was trying to hit on Trista or one of the other girls there. But yeah. Dude dressed in all gray with a face wrap just charged in and went right for Trista. Knocked her down, bit her like a freaking zombie, then ran away before anyone could stop him. Didn’t even take his face wrap off. It was freaky, man.”
“What the actual fuck.”
“That’s what we all said. Trista needed a stitch. But while she was at the hospital, I guess she started getting more symptoms. She was out for the rest of the year. From then on, she was like she is now. Total vampire.”
“Was Steven a vampire?”
“I dunno. Probably. Little dickhead is what he is. Must have been him that attacked Trista, but nobody could prove it. Bite mark didn’t match or something. So why are you asking? You hang out with her at night right? You asking her out or something?”
“Oh. No. Just a friend.”
That was all I really learned from Frankie. It’s quite a story, and it’s full of unknowns that Trista refuses to explain. So I guess I’ll let readers be the judge. Is she a “real” vampire? Or just a weirdo? All I know is, she’s totally standing behind me right now and now I’m dead. Bleh.
I did come back to life to talk to Trista once I finished writing this. She enjoyed it. I may as well include that interaction.
I went to her place on my night off. She read my take on her and what the neighbors thought and she grinned. “Ha! I’m a total monster!” She chuckled. “So. What do YOU think, Mason? Am I a vampire?” She cocked an eye and playfully gnashes her teeth at me, making a pleasant little click.
I sighed. “No idea. You’re Trista. And… you’re my friend. I’m sorry if I made things awkward.”
She looked surprised by that. “Aw. Thanks Mason. You’re my friend too. It’s okay. I’m flattered.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Absolutely not. We’re both weird shut ins.” She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. It made me happy.
“Yeah but I got the ‘mysterious vampire’ thing going.”
“You have dirt in your hair from rolling around with bunnies. And you’re a vegan.”
“Bite me.”
“Says the vampire.”
“You know, if I were a vampire, I could have bitten you when we both went to the slaughterhouses a few weeks ago.”
“That just makes me stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Mason. You’re not a loser either.”
“So. You know of any other good spooky town stories that I can do next?
“Oh, sure. You ever heard the tale of Salome? She was a witch who would mash up the seeds of a Sinapis Alba plant to make a diabolical potion she’d dump on herself. They called her the ‘Witch of the Sands.’”
I’m embarrassed to admit it took me four days to realize Trista was just fucking with me. I only figured it out when I looked up Sinapis Alba and learned that mashing the seeds just makes mustard. “Salomi the sand-witch.” Well played, vampire hippy…
Sexy Neighbor
Haunted Slaughterhouse
2024.05.15 15:48 karenvideoeditor The Zoo - [Part 2]
Previous
So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
Previous
***
/storiesbykaren
submitted by karenvideoeditor to redditserials [link] [comments]
So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
Previous
***
/storiesbykaren
2024.05.15 01:50 kliqIMB Dear (Past/Present/Future) Funhaus: I'm Sorry
I've started and stopped writing this post at least two dozen times over the last few months. Ever since the shutdown announcement, I've felt like I wanted to express my feelings the best way I know how: an overly verbose and, (probably more than) somewhat meandering screed. But every time I sat down to really put thoughts to the proverbial paper, there's been something holding me back. Whether it was a timing that didn't feel appropriate, my own insecurities about trying to distill years worth of emotions into something that was even remotely readable, or just general procrastination (let's be honest, it's at least 50% that), I sit here now realizing that the May 15th shutdown for the RT website wasn't the actual "last day" for everyone. So, my first apology should be for missing the mark here entirely. My second should be for how long I anticipate this being.
Even now, I'm trying to really formulate how to begin what all I want to convey. I guess I can start on a day that's come to, in a very cosmic coincidence sort of way, represent some of the worst times in my life. April 25th. In this particular case, let's go back over a decade, before "Funhaus" had started, to April 25th, 2012.
It was getting late. My best friend—let's call him Ryu—and I had just finished playing some Naruto: Ultimate Ninja Storm on 360. I had invited him to come hang out at the place I was living at the time (both of our boss's basement) since he'd been in a bad place recently. His ex-gf had called me earlier that day and asked me to do a wellness check on him. They had broken up recently and he wasn't taking it well. We were chatting about where we were going to try and grab a late bite when I saw some movement outside of the front door. Before I had time to process what was happening, several armed figures entered his house. He was pinned to the couch, and I felt a searing pain flash across my face as I was punched in the mouth, lifted from the couch, and slammed to the ground; jettisoning my shoes in the process. We were handcuffed as they searched the house. I thought it was a home invasion. I fully accepted that I was going to die if they were going to try and move us. Luckily for me, a few moments before I was planning on trying to make a run for it, a detective came in and led me outside. I was met by a dozen cop cars, SWAT vans, and other law enforcement vehicles. Turns out, his ex-gf had called the cops and swatted us with a false rape claim. I was booked for "obstruction of justice" and spent a few hours in the county drunk tank before my parents could come post my bail. As I was leaving the jail, I caught a glimpse of my friend sitting in his cell waiting to be processed. The light completely gone from his eyes; soul darkened. I knew in that moment I had lost him forever. Three months later he committed suicide in his car.
A few years later, I was working a retail job. I had gotten the gig from a friend—we'll call him Sky—who also knew Ryu. In fact, Sky had trained Ryu at a previous company, and then Ryu trained me. Sky went onto to this new company, and Ryu followed shortly after. Unfortunately, due to his arrest, Ryu was let go from his position. I was now picking up where he left off. Following in the footsteps of the only person I had ever considered an "older brother". One morning, Sky says he's found this hilarious new YouTube channel. It's these guys. They used to be called Inside Gaming, but they went rogue from Machinima and started something new with Rooster Teeth. It was called "Funhaus" and they did comedy gameplays. I was vaguely aware of all the words he said. I knew RvB but hadn't kept up with it. I knew all the AH personalities because I was (and still am) hopelessly addicted to achievements. But until this point, the only real YouTube stuff I kept up with was Extra Creditz. It just wasn't something I really consumed in that way. That was all about to change.
Funhaus was an instant rabbit hole for me. I think it was about six months after the channel launched that I was introduced and I cleared the back catalog in two weeks max. The humor, the gameplay, the way everyone riffed on one another. It was the first time I actually listed to an entire episode of a podcast. I was fully bought in. It also didn't hurt that both Sky and I agreed that Lawrence reminded us so much of Ryu that it was almost uncanny. From the weeb tendencies, to the bombastic pontificating, to the frame of glasses he wore. It wasn't a perfect facsimile, but only being a few years removed from the incident it was an oddly comforting form of catharsis. And so, I began my daily ritual of watching the newest Funhaus video. Monday's in particular I remember opening the store and eating my chicken biscuit every morning while watching the newest Demo Disk. I would often get asked by my teammates, "What are you watching?" and they'd have to politely sit through a short dissertation on Funhaus and why it was the funniest thing on YouTube. There was one such conversation that always stood out to me that went something like this,
Co-Worker: "You know kliq, I see you in here on your lunch break every single day watching a video on your phone. About half of the time you can't even breathe you're laughing so hard. So I looked over your shoulder the other day and it's just three white dudes playing a video game? How can it be that funny?" Me: "Lemme show you something."
I pulled up the gameplay of James yelling at FIFA 2006 and I had converted another fan.
The years from 2015-2019 are some of my favorite Funhaus memories. Not in a "I hate Future Funhaus" way, but just as sort of going through my mid-20s and starting to become a person. I know it became a common joke to talk about the parasocial nature of YouTube channels around this time, so pardon me for this bit of cringe, but in a very real way I felt like I had discovered several long-lost older brothers (and one sister). I knew that I didn't actually know these people. But the caricatures they played while performing for the camera became a very impactful part of my life. Much in the same way that a good character in a book or a TV show can resonate with you in ways you wouldn't expect, the Funhaus crew informed a lot of my sensibilities. They taught me about comedy, they gave me different perspectives through which to the view the world, and, in a very real way, helped me navigate away from some of the online cesspools that I would have otherwise probably succumbed to. It was during this time that I also met the crew. I went to a PAX East Panel where I was front-row for the "De-pah-ted" gag over and over. Afterwards, we went to world's oddest meet-up location (a children's science museum) where everyone queued up to meet each person individually. Everyone was incredibly kind and funny. The next year the meet-up was smaller, but I trudged through the snow to stand in around the upper floor of a mall to chat with Lawrence and Peake. The next day Lawrence was MCing a competition and I won some free swag after beating some people in Jenga. (We never did figure out how to eliminate multiple people.) This was also around the time that I finally signed up for RT First, specifically to watch Arizona Circle on repeat.
It's around here that my Funhaus story takes a turn and it's really the reason I feel most compelled to apologize profusely to everyone that worked there. The pandemic hit me hard. In 2018, I was laid off from a job and spent six months unemployed with absolutely nothing. I was paying my rent on my credit card (among other things), and would buy my friends groceries on my cards to have them pay me cash so I could pay the minimums. I had to move across the country for a new job and I left everyone I ever knew behind except my wife. But for those first two years, I knew I had Funhaus to keep my spirits afloat. Then the lockdown. I fell behind on everything. I still remember the last video I watched all the way through. It was the murder mystery yacht video where everyone dressed up. For whatever reason, I just... stopped. Before I knew it, I was six months behind in my videos and then everything happened with Adam and I sort of just floated away.
I kept telling myself I would come back. I kept saying I could still catch up. But suddenly it was 2021, and then 2022, and I still hadn't watched a single video. I would see Reddit posts about how "I miss the old days" and "What's with this new cast", but whenever I would see a clip, I would laugh as hard as I always had. For whatever reason, I just couldn't come back and watch episodes. Toward the end of 2022, I was experiencing the lowest point I had in nearly a decade. I was extremely depressed and could barely focus on life. I decided then that I was going to restart at the beginning. I was going to watch the entire Funhaus catalog for a big, grandiose project that I would publish for their 8th anniversary in 2023. I made it about six months deep into the catalog before I succumbed to more despair. I had to take time off of work. Then, on April 25th 2023, I was laid off from my job. (I told you this day sucked.)
Fast forward to this year, and I'm realizing that I'm watching some of my absolute favorite people in the world present their last versions of themselves on stream on the one-year anniversary of me realizing I was jobless again. I cried all the way through that stream. James's speech at the end had me in absolute shambles. I almost still can't reconcile that this is all ending. I know that some people reading will probably think it's gauche to compare Funhaus ending with the death of a best friend and losing my own job, and I wouldn't necessarily hold that against them. It's funny how certain things link themselves in our minds. One of the hardest things to reconcile about losing Ryu was that I wouldn't be able to do certain things with him anymore. We couldn't watch the newest cours of anime, we couldn't talk about the fact that Bayonetta actually got a sequel, or that I finally managed to finish all of the Final Fantasy XI achievements before he did. In the same way, that feeling of missing out on the unknown future is what breaks me down to my core. It is highly likely that we'll never see all of those incredible people in the same room together in the same way, and the world is worse off because of it. That really applies to Rooster Teeth as a whole as well. I've always been more of a Funhaus fan that RT in general, but I really can't understate how incredible the talent at Funhaus always was.
I'm sure everyone wanted to, over the years, work at Funhaus because they liked the cast, or they thought being a YouTuber was a glamorous job. Some might even go so far as to say it was their dream to work there. I am one of those people. But, I literally mean it was my dream. For as long as I can remember, I have had extremely vivid dreams of just working at Funhaus. Not necessarily being on camera, not even like doing a gameplay. I mean I would dream about sitting down at a computer and getting instructions on how to edit a video. Or, I'd be interviewing for a position to intern/help out. I'd be in different offices throughout the years, answering emails, creating production schedules, just interfacing with everyone as if they were my co-workers. In fact, just this past Saturday I had one of these dreams. Probably from realizing that the 10th was everyone's actual last day. But I showed up, and talked to James about an edit on the "final video". We compared notes, and then him, Bruce, and Patrick all walked out together singing a Tenacious D song as they shut the doors to the studio. (Look, I didn't say they always made sense.)
Again, I know there's a certain level of, "You don't actually know these people," at play here. And I'll readily admit that we don't know each other from... uh.... Eve. But, that never mattered to me. Sure, I always thought, maybe if I could get a job there and prove myself that a natural camaraderie would develop like any good workplace. But that didn't matter to me as much as just being part of something. I ardently believe that the Funhaus crew are some of the most talented entertainers to ever put their likeness to video. In the same way, that someone might want to act alongside Tom Cruise or be in a Steven Spielberg movie, I wanted to work with Funhaus. In 2021, when I turned 30, I wrote down a list of "30 people in my 30s" that I had aspirations to do something with in terms of media creation. Despite not having watched them in some time, Funhaus was still top of my list.
So, I'm sorry. I'm truly deeply sorry. I'm sorry that I fell of watching the videos. (The grand tragic irony is that when I heard the news about the shutdown, I started watching the newest videos and was laughing just like old times.) That I wasn't there in the trenches when things were roughest. That I wasn't able to, in the only way a random viewer can, support the channel and the people within, in the same way y'all had (unknowingly) done for me for years prior. I know that a single view probably doesn't make a difference in the grand scheme of how thing shook out. But I can't help but feel some complicity in the declining view count. I know people move on from projects, or they morph over time, but I truly wished I could've tuned into the channel decades from now and still heard the comforting voices that had become so familiar.
I don't really have a great way to end this section of the post. If you've read through all of this it probably means you're either taking massive dump and you're hitting your second flush right now, or some of these sentiments resonate with you too. In either case, I thank you for affording me the opportunity to express my thoughts and feelings here. I'm honestly not sure how fluid this will end up being, and my editor brain is telling me I should re-write about 90% of it. But it's now or never.
To any past/present/future Funhaus employee who might see this, thank you so much for all you've done for people over the past decade plus of entertaining. If I can oblige just a few more moments of your time, I wanted to speak directly to each of you as a final expression of my adoration and thankfulness.
u/fh_James - It's truly fitting that the first and final shots of film posted to the Funhaus channel are of you. It took me a while to truly understand how much of the backbone of the channel you were. Throughout the years, you always challenged the way I thought about comedy and how to make things funny. You were constantly one-upping yourself with the way you crafted your humor. This, coupled with your deep sincerity, loyalty, and strength of character always made me think you'd be the "last one out". Thank you so much for all of your work on Funhaus, thank you for Talking Stalkings, for Arizona Circle, and for everything else. Thank you for answering my tweet about a limited-time "Sonic Makeup line" that allowed me to enshrine myself in some small way in Funhaus lore. Your ending stream speech touched my heart deeply, and I hope that you are able to take some time to yourself before find the next big thing. (Obviously, steaks.) I still have hope that one day I'll be afforded the opportunity to work with you on something.
u/FH_Elyse - Thank you for bringing such a genuine warmth along with sharp, witty comedy to the channel. Funhaus would truly not be 1/10th what it was without your contributions. The characters, the off-scene work (the pony-tail clip is still hall of fame), and everything in between. I'm so happy you've branched out into doing creative writing work, and I hope you continue to find success there. I also want to thank you for being the only reason I could convince my wife to ever watch a Funhaus video. She adores you and thinks you're so funny. Having you come on finally allowed me to share a small part of Funhaus with her and for that I'll be forever grateful. I'd also be remiss to not include one of my favorite anecdotes. After you joined, we were talking and I mentioned that you and James were married, and my wife asked, "Which one is he again?" I pulled up a picture and she replies, "Oh, the hot one. That's my girl."
u/FHJacob - Funhaus's badboy the OG "editor". Thank you for all the years of hardwork you put into making the "Funhaus" style a thing of beauty. I was so happy when you started doing on-screen videos. Your absolute unabashed passion for different nerdy endeavors is truly infectious. The ending to Star Boys was incredible and watching you and Rahul quote the entirety of three movies at once another will always be something I treasure. One day, I hope you can school me on some Gundam lore.
u/FHBruce - I know you've moved on, but not only were you an integral part of my formative Funhaus experiences, but there's something I've always wanted to tell you. In your "Goodbye" video, there's a section where everyone is describing your management style and how you led the team during your run at FH. When that video dropped I immediately sent my manager at the time the section where Omar is talking about your leadership. That whole portion of the video I have maintained is how I think everyone should talk about their leaders, and is something that I strive to work towards in my own personal job currently. I know that is but the smallest window into your management style, but it's pushed me to be a better overall leader. So thank you.
u/rufhaus - Autumn, I'm not positive if you were ever technically "Funhaus" but I loved your stint on Inside Gaming and Sugar Pine 7, and I think you've more than enshrined yourself in the eternal codex of this channel. Very happy to continue to see you thriving, and obviously much congratulations to both you and Bruce for your child. I'm glad we all got to experience your talent throughout the years.
u/FH_Omar - Speaking of you Omar, thank you so much for everything you've done over the years at FH. I still remember the "Where in the World is Omar" bits on Open Haus, and learning that you were super into heavy music. I was like, "This dude has dope kicks AND can crowd kill. Let's absolutely go." I mentioned above that you talking about Bruce in his goodbye video was inspirational. In having watched all of the current "goodbye" content, and the way that everyone has talked about you since, I hope it's not too out of line to say that I think you've probably embodied those exact same principles in your leadership. Again, I have only what I'm seeing externally to go on, but from the way people talk about you, to the emotions you've worn on your sleeves during the shutdown, I believe that you're an awesome person to work for and with.
u/SirLarr - Lawrence, I should take a moment to apologize for ambushing you with what I'm sure was a very confusing story to hear at children's museum. "Hey dude you remind me of my dead friend so that's part of why I got into Funhaus," is maybe the worst first sentence I've ever spoken to someone in real life. So again, I'm terribly sorry. But I also want to say how awesome it was to watch all the stuff you did over the years at Funhaus. I know from still watching your content now that there's some level of grime that covers those years and they aren't the fondest to look back on. But I do think things like Time 2 Hakk, Quintessential Gamer, Hard Nettin' were such touchstones of Funhaus content that will live on forever. From an outside perspective, it seems like you're doing well, and I'm excited to keep seeing you on BYTT and IGv3(4?).
u/RyanRyanReddit - Ryan, my dude. I literally don't know if I could even adequately describe just how much you've made me laugh just by literally being you. I have a file in my notes app called "Real Life Stories" where I have a few words that trigger a specific memory from my life about some absurd happenstance that I found myself in. I feel like every time you tell a story, you're pulling from your own file like that but it's five thousand times longer and more interesting than mine. You're a supremely talented and funny dude and I'm so glad you were brought into Funhaus and ended up staying as long as you did. I hope to see you on Survivor 47/8/9! (I think I have Charlie for this season.)
u/hohnjolland - John, the perfect musical addition to the team. I'm so thankful for all of your awesome tunes, sick edits, and willingness to dive into the bit over the years. You brought an different vibe / flair to the videos you were in that always had me thinking, "Why is this dude the coolest person in the room." I've got my sub to Pour Choices Kitchen locked and loaded, and it has somewhat got me considering picking back up my own mantle "Chef Dude Jour" again. I hope that PCK is successful or you're able to explore other avenues as well. Also, I'm the guy from Gastonia that was in the chat. DM the location of that fish place in Lincolnton.
u/FH_Jon - Jon Deux. Man. I still remember when you first started appearing on videos. The chaotic energy, the commitment to bits, you've got some absolutely all-time classic FH moments under your belt. I'm super thankful that you got to be part of this crew and share your weirdness (complimentary) with the world. I know you put up the video a few months ago about your mental health, and I hope that things have gotten better. As someone who also struggles with depression, I know how devastating that can be sometimes. I truly wish the best for you man. Thanks for all the laughs.
u/linzbot - We're approaching territory where people were onboarding right as I fell off, but literally every single video I've seen since the announcement, not to mention your contributions to the streams has filled me with joy. I'm so glad you made the transition from Cow Chop to Funhaus, and, if there's nothing else I can say in adulation, it's that you blessed us with the absolutely perfect sign-off to something that meant so much to all of us. I had to pause at least a dozen times watching that documentary to cry, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. A truly stellar capstone to a truly stellar run.
u/mc_lotta / u/snackary__ / u/HandsomeMaster2 - It would be somewhat disingenuous of me to applaud the entirety of y'all's run at Funhaus because I, foolishly, missed so much of it. But what I do remember is how this trio absolutely crushed Inside Gaming, and how excited I was when I heard everyone had made the jump over to FH. Charlotte, your sardonic quips and joke delivery have always made me laugh. Patrick, I watched the entirety of the Demo Wheel run and I was amazed at how incredible a foil to James you were. Then, I watched a smattering of other content and realized you're the perfect foil in nearly every video. I'm so excited to see that both of you and Jacob have started up your goblin activities. Zach, I'm sorry I missed your true FH run. I was supremely stoked (and unfortunately subsequently saddened) as a fellow games industry person to see you rocking out on CoD socials. Hope you're doing well.
u/Gargarbinks - Brian! Screw it. Inside Gaming is basically Funhaus, so I'm including you here too. I've been watching you deliver gaming news for ages and I'm so thankful that you were part of this entire journey. Loved seeing you on Inside Games (legally distinct entity) and I hope the games industry never loses you. If anything, I know at least one other person who will freak out if Dragon Quest X makes it's way westward.
u/MadMattBT - No idea if you still peruse these parts or use Reddit anymore, but I just wanted to say, in addition to all the amazing work you put in as an editor, as well as the absolutely CLASSIC appearances as Hitman, thanks for being open about your faith and ideals while working at Funhaus. As someone who is also a Christian, it's always nice to see people who are comfortable enough in their beliefs to not only poke fun at themselves, but also embrace other viewpoints.
u/harmonygrits - Really getting into the archives now, Joel, I know your run on FH was short(ish), but I really did enjoy whenever you'd be involved with a video. The whimsical, but also oddly parental like vibe you brought to videos (despite your most well known meme maybe being liking something called "Unicum") were always a delight. Since then you've showcased your skills in for other content creators, and even now you've been giving away your fount of knowledge for free in some very interesting Medium articles. The industry itself might be in a worrisome state, but there's hope that people such as yourself will find a better path forward.
u/Spooleo - Spoole. The original "Goodbye" video. Thanks so much for all the laughs during that opening era of Funhaus. I'm not sure I ever agreed with the 1 Dollar 1 Hour premise, but it certainly made for some entertaining videos. And hey, your current gig ain't so bad itself, yeah?
u/charalanahzard - I was so supremely stoked when you first started showing up in videos because you fell so naturally into the format it was uncanny. I had enjoyed your games industry coverage up till then, so I thought I was getting the best of both worlds. So supremely thankful for your time at Funhaus and even now continuing the Deadly Premonition dreams alive and well on your stream. Not to mention the slate of podcast content you've been producing for some time now. As someone who is also hopeful to one day write for games, your journey has been inspiring. I hope to see your book come out as well! (If that's your goal!)
u/RahulKohli13 - Dunno if you consider yourself a Funhaus "member" or not, but given how much joy you've brought me through your involvement with their videos, it wouldn't feel right to not include you. Boyfriend videos, Sundered, Talking Stalkings, and everything in between, I couldn't be more thrilled that you were part of this journey. Also, selfishly, I miss you posting on Twitter. Those last few years were just great fun, but I understand why you left. I try to watch everything you're in. Mike Flannagan has an eternal fan because I just wanted to see more Rahul Kohli. You even reinvigorated my love and passion for football. YNWA. (I assume we just never talk about this season again, yeah?)
u/mandodoesstuff - Mando! Your Funhaus run is definitely in my personal time away from the channel, but one thing that consistently happened during that period was I would see clips with you in them and I would always, always laugh. I thought you were incredible during Last Laugh Season 2, and I've caught some of your RTP rebrand and subsequent Zazlav diss tracks. You're an incredibly funny and talented dude and I'm absolutely following Midnight Snack to see where the next thing takes you. (Yes, y'all should make a Patreon.)
u/filmDstryr / u/thenasacova / u/adambrouillard - So I couldn't find any of y'all's actual Reddit accounts, but these are your handles elsewhere so maybe this will work? For some reason the three of you are tied together in my mind as all having started at relatively the same time and were always the "Oh, there's Dan/Don/Bones!" excitement when you'd show up in a video. Dan, I loved your stuff on Filmhaus and Board as Hell, and I hope that Funhaus Avenue... I mean "Fhave" takes off. (Yes, I made that joke on Twitter already). Don, I still randomly quote "Michael Transactions" till this day. Just all-time incredible character work. Bones, I'll never get your insanely cool random nickname that's only used at Funhaus. To all three of you, thank you for your tireless efforts across all your time at the company, and for helping create some of my fondest memories.
u/therickreveche / u/ekombokom / u/HeyYoItsGabz - Rick, Justin, Gabs; first, I'm not positive if any of these accounts are actually y'all, so I apologize that I couldn't sleuth down your official accounts. Second, I completely missed the entirety of y'all's FH run and that sucks. Rick, I saw your work on the finale stream with the climax of what I assume to be an astoundingly good FH Wrestling show that I fully plan on watching in it's entirety. But I know that each of you contributed your talents, time, and effort to creating content on the channel and for that I'm forever grateful. I'm sure that as I (re)watch everything it will make me feel even more foolish for the time I missed out on.
I think that's every on camera person from the entire run. I've been writing for *checks clock* five hours now, so I'm going to feel like a real chump if there's some sort of glaring omission from this list. I also had originally wanted to see if I could track down a list of all the editors, interns, and other employees throughout the years that were either never on camera or only on there briefly, but I couldn't find a cohesive enough list that felt "right", so I'll just dedicate this final paragraph to everyone else that has ever contributed to this behemoth undertaking. No matter how "small" a part you may have played, it all worked toward a common pursuit that has impacted millions of people's lives over the course of a decade. I'm so thankful for everyone who ever walked through those doors and sat down to work on Funhaus.
Okay, this was even longer than I anticipated it being. If anyone has read this far, I just want to say... please get off the toilet. I'm sure your legs are asleep. If you're still taking a dump go see a doctor immediately, that's not normal. See ya!
submitted by kliqIMB to funhaus [link] [comments]
Even now, I'm trying to really formulate how to begin what all I want to convey. I guess I can start on a day that's come to, in a very cosmic coincidence sort of way, represent some of the worst times in my life. April 25th. In this particular case, let's go back over a decade, before "Funhaus" had started, to April 25th, 2012.
It was getting late. My best friend—let's call him Ryu—and I had just finished playing some Naruto: Ultimate Ninja Storm on 360. I had invited him to come hang out at the place I was living at the time (both of our boss's basement) since he'd been in a bad place recently. His ex-gf had called me earlier that day and asked me to do a wellness check on him. They had broken up recently and he wasn't taking it well. We were chatting about where we were going to try and grab a late bite when I saw some movement outside of the front door. Before I had time to process what was happening, several armed figures entered his house. He was pinned to the couch, and I felt a searing pain flash across my face as I was punched in the mouth, lifted from the couch, and slammed to the ground; jettisoning my shoes in the process. We were handcuffed as they searched the house. I thought it was a home invasion. I fully accepted that I was going to die if they were going to try and move us. Luckily for me, a few moments before I was planning on trying to make a run for it, a detective came in and led me outside. I was met by a dozen cop cars, SWAT vans, and other law enforcement vehicles. Turns out, his ex-gf had called the cops and swatted us with a false rape claim. I was booked for "obstruction of justice" and spent a few hours in the county drunk tank before my parents could come post my bail. As I was leaving the jail, I caught a glimpse of my friend sitting in his cell waiting to be processed. The light completely gone from his eyes; soul darkened. I knew in that moment I had lost him forever. Three months later he committed suicide in his car.
A few years later, I was working a retail job. I had gotten the gig from a friend—we'll call him Sky—who also knew Ryu. In fact, Sky had trained Ryu at a previous company, and then Ryu trained me. Sky went onto to this new company, and Ryu followed shortly after. Unfortunately, due to his arrest, Ryu was let go from his position. I was now picking up where he left off. Following in the footsteps of the only person I had ever considered an "older brother". One morning, Sky says he's found this hilarious new YouTube channel. It's these guys. They used to be called Inside Gaming, but they went rogue from Machinima and started something new with Rooster Teeth. It was called "Funhaus" and they did comedy gameplays. I was vaguely aware of all the words he said. I knew RvB but hadn't kept up with it. I knew all the AH personalities because I was (and still am) hopelessly addicted to achievements. But until this point, the only real YouTube stuff I kept up with was Extra Creditz. It just wasn't something I really consumed in that way. That was all about to change.
Funhaus was an instant rabbit hole for me. I think it was about six months after the channel launched that I was introduced and I cleared the back catalog in two weeks max. The humor, the gameplay, the way everyone riffed on one another. It was the first time I actually listed to an entire episode of a podcast. I was fully bought in. It also didn't hurt that both Sky and I agreed that Lawrence reminded us so much of Ryu that it was almost uncanny. From the weeb tendencies, to the bombastic pontificating, to the frame of glasses he wore. It wasn't a perfect facsimile, but only being a few years removed from the incident it was an oddly comforting form of catharsis. And so, I began my daily ritual of watching the newest Funhaus video. Monday's in particular I remember opening the store and eating my chicken biscuit every morning while watching the newest Demo Disk. I would often get asked by my teammates, "What are you watching?" and they'd have to politely sit through a short dissertation on Funhaus and why it was the funniest thing on YouTube. There was one such conversation that always stood out to me that went something like this,
Co-Worker: "You know kliq, I see you in here on your lunch break every single day watching a video on your phone. About half of the time you can't even breathe you're laughing so hard. So I looked over your shoulder the other day and it's just three white dudes playing a video game? How can it be that funny?" Me: "Lemme show you something."
I pulled up the gameplay of James yelling at FIFA 2006 and I had converted another fan.
The years from 2015-2019 are some of my favorite Funhaus memories. Not in a "I hate Future Funhaus" way, but just as sort of going through my mid-20s and starting to become a person. I know it became a common joke to talk about the parasocial nature of YouTube channels around this time, so pardon me for this bit of cringe, but in a very real way I felt like I had discovered several long-lost older brothers (and one sister). I knew that I didn't actually know these people. But the caricatures they played while performing for the camera became a very impactful part of my life. Much in the same way that a good character in a book or a TV show can resonate with you in ways you wouldn't expect, the Funhaus crew informed a lot of my sensibilities. They taught me about comedy, they gave me different perspectives through which to the view the world, and, in a very real way, helped me navigate away from some of the online cesspools that I would have otherwise probably succumbed to. It was during this time that I also met the crew. I went to a PAX East Panel where I was front-row for the "De-pah-ted" gag over and over. Afterwards, we went to world's oddest meet-up location (a children's science museum) where everyone queued up to meet each person individually. Everyone was incredibly kind and funny. The next year the meet-up was smaller, but I trudged through the snow to stand in around the upper floor of a mall to chat with Lawrence and Peake. The next day Lawrence was MCing a competition and I won some free swag after beating some people in Jenga. (We never did figure out how to eliminate multiple people.) This was also around the time that I finally signed up for RT First, specifically to watch Arizona Circle on repeat.
It's around here that my Funhaus story takes a turn and it's really the reason I feel most compelled to apologize profusely to everyone that worked there. The pandemic hit me hard. In 2018, I was laid off from a job and spent six months unemployed with absolutely nothing. I was paying my rent on my credit card (among other things), and would buy my friends groceries on my cards to have them pay me cash so I could pay the minimums. I had to move across the country for a new job and I left everyone I ever knew behind except my wife. But for those first two years, I knew I had Funhaus to keep my spirits afloat. Then the lockdown. I fell behind on everything. I still remember the last video I watched all the way through. It was the murder mystery yacht video where everyone dressed up. For whatever reason, I just... stopped. Before I knew it, I was six months behind in my videos and then everything happened with Adam and I sort of just floated away.
I kept telling myself I would come back. I kept saying I could still catch up. But suddenly it was 2021, and then 2022, and I still hadn't watched a single video. I would see Reddit posts about how "I miss the old days" and "What's with this new cast", but whenever I would see a clip, I would laugh as hard as I always had. For whatever reason, I just couldn't come back and watch episodes. Toward the end of 2022, I was experiencing the lowest point I had in nearly a decade. I was extremely depressed and could barely focus on life. I decided then that I was going to restart at the beginning. I was going to watch the entire Funhaus catalog for a big, grandiose project that I would publish for their 8th anniversary in 2023. I made it about six months deep into the catalog before I succumbed to more despair. I had to take time off of work. Then, on April 25th 2023, I was laid off from my job. (I told you this day sucked.)
Fast forward to this year, and I'm realizing that I'm watching some of my absolute favorite people in the world present their last versions of themselves on stream on the one-year anniversary of me realizing I was jobless again. I cried all the way through that stream. James's speech at the end had me in absolute shambles. I almost still can't reconcile that this is all ending. I know that some people reading will probably think it's gauche to compare Funhaus ending with the death of a best friend and losing my own job, and I wouldn't necessarily hold that against them. It's funny how certain things link themselves in our minds. One of the hardest things to reconcile about losing Ryu was that I wouldn't be able to do certain things with him anymore. We couldn't watch the newest cours of anime, we couldn't talk about the fact that Bayonetta actually got a sequel, or that I finally managed to finish all of the Final Fantasy XI achievements before he did. In the same way, that feeling of missing out on the unknown future is what breaks me down to my core. It is highly likely that we'll never see all of those incredible people in the same room together in the same way, and the world is worse off because of it. That really applies to Rooster Teeth as a whole as well. I've always been more of a Funhaus fan that RT in general, but I really can't understate how incredible the talent at Funhaus always was.
I'm sure everyone wanted to, over the years, work at Funhaus because they liked the cast, or they thought being a YouTuber was a glamorous job. Some might even go so far as to say it was their dream to work there. I am one of those people. But, I literally mean it was my dream. For as long as I can remember, I have had extremely vivid dreams of just working at Funhaus. Not necessarily being on camera, not even like doing a gameplay. I mean I would dream about sitting down at a computer and getting instructions on how to edit a video. Or, I'd be interviewing for a position to intern/help out. I'd be in different offices throughout the years, answering emails, creating production schedules, just interfacing with everyone as if they were my co-workers. In fact, just this past Saturday I had one of these dreams. Probably from realizing that the 10th was everyone's actual last day. But I showed up, and talked to James about an edit on the "final video". We compared notes, and then him, Bruce, and Patrick all walked out together singing a Tenacious D song as they shut the doors to the studio. (Look, I didn't say they always made sense.)
Again, I know there's a certain level of, "You don't actually know these people," at play here. And I'll readily admit that we don't know each other from... uh.... Eve. But, that never mattered to me. Sure, I always thought, maybe if I could get a job there and prove myself that a natural camaraderie would develop like any good workplace. But that didn't matter to me as much as just being part of something. I ardently believe that the Funhaus crew are some of the most talented entertainers to ever put their likeness to video. In the same way, that someone might want to act alongside Tom Cruise or be in a Steven Spielberg movie, I wanted to work with Funhaus. In 2021, when I turned 30, I wrote down a list of "30 people in my 30s" that I had aspirations to do something with in terms of media creation. Despite not having watched them in some time, Funhaus was still top of my list.
So, I'm sorry. I'm truly deeply sorry. I'm sorry that I fell of watching the videos. (The grand tragic irony is that when I heard the news about the shutdown, I started watching the newest videos and was laughing just like old times.) That I wasn't there in the trenches when things were roughest. That I wasn't able to, in the only way a random viewer can, support the channel and the people within, in the same way y'all had (unknowingly) done for me for years prior. I know that a single view probably doesn't make a difference in the grand scheme of how thing shook out. But I can't help but feel some complicity in the declining view count. I know people move on from projects, or they morph over time, but I truly wished I could've tuned into the channel decades from now and still heard the comforting voices that had become so familiar.
I don't really have a great way to end this section of the post. If you've read through all of this it probably means you're either taking massive dump and you're hitting your second flush right now, or some of these sentiments resonate with you too. In either case, I thank you for affording me the opportunity to express my thoughts and feelings here. I'm honestly not sure how fluid this will end up being, and my editor brain is telling me I should re-write about 90% of it. But it's now or never.
To any past/present/future Funhaus employee who might see this, thank you so much for all you've done for people over the past decade plus of entertaining. If I can oblige just a few more moments of your time, I wanted to speak directly to each of you as a final expression of my adoration and thankfulness.
u/fh_James - It's truly fitting that the first and final shots of film posted to the Funhaus channel are of you. It took me a while to truly understand how much of the backbone of the channel you were. Throughout the years, you always challenged the way I thought about comedy and how to make things funny. You were constantly one-upping yourself with the way you crafted your humor. This, coupled with your deep sincerity, loyalty, and strength of character always made me think you'd be the "last one out". Thank you so much for all of your work on Funhaus, thank you for Talking Stalkings, for Arizona Circle, and for everything else. Thank you for answering my tweet about a limited-time "Sonic Makeup line" that allowed me to enshrine myself in some small way in Funhaus lore. Your ending stream speech touched my heart deeply, and I hope that you are able to take some time to yourself before find the next big thing. (Obviously, steaks.) I still have hope that one day I'll be afforded the opportunity to work with you on something.
u/FH_Elyse - Thank you for bringing such a genuine warmth along with sharp, witty comedy to the channel. Funhaus would truly not be 1/10th what it was without your contributions. The characters, the off-scene work (the pony-tail clip is still hall of fame), and everything in between. I'm so happy you've branched out into doing creative writing work, and I hope you continue to find success there. I also want to thank you for being the only reason I could convince my wife to ever watch a Funhaus video. She adores you and thinks you're so funny. Having you come on finally allowed me to share a small part of Funhaus with her and for that I'll be forever grateful. I'd also be remiss to not include one of my favorite anecdotes. After you joined, we were talking and I mentioned that you and James were married, and my wife asked, "Which one is he again?" I pulled up a picture and she replies, "Oh, the hot one. That's my girl."
u/FHJacob - Funhaus's badboy the OG "editor". Thank you for all the years of hardwork you put into making the "Funhaus" style a thing of beauty. I was so happy when you started doing on-screen videos. Your absolute unabashed passion for different nerdy endeavors is truly infectious. The ending to Star Boys was incredible and watching you and Rahul quote the entirety of three movies at once another will always be something I treasure. One day, I hope you can school me on some Gundam lore.
u/FHBruce - I know you've moved on, but not only were you an integral part of my formative Funhaus experiences, but there's something I've always wanted to tell you. In your "Goodbye" video, there's a section where everyone is describing your management style and how you led the team during your run at FH. When that video dropped I immediately sent my manager at the time the section where Omar is talking about your leadership. That whole portion of the video I have maintained is how I think everyone should talk about their leaders, and is something that I strive to work towards in my own personal job currently. I know that is but the smallest window into your management style, but it's pushed me to be a better overall leader. So thank you.
u/rufhaus - Autumn, I'm not positive if you were ever technically "Funhaus" but I loved your stint on Inside Gaming and Sugar Pine 7, and I think you've more than enshrined yourself in the eternal codex of this channel. Very happy to continue to see you thriving, and obviously much congratulations to both you and Bruce for your child. I'm glad we all got to experience your talent throughout the years.
u/FH_Omar - Speaking of you Omar, thank you so much for everything you've done over the years at FH. I still remember the "Where in the World is Omar" bits on Open Haus, and learning that you were super into heavy music. I was like, "This dude has dope kicks AND can crowd kill. Let's absolutely go." I mentioned above that you talking about Bruce in his goodbye video was inspirational. In having watched all of the current "goodbye" content, and the way that everyone has talked about you since, I hope it's not too out of line to say that I think you've probably embodied those exact same principles in your leadership. Again, I have only what I'm seeing externally to go on, but from the way people talk about you, to the emotions you've worn on your sleeves during the shutdown, I believe that you're an awesome person to work for and with.
u/SirLarr - Lawrence, I should take a moment to apologize for ambushing you with what I'm sure was a very confusing story to hear at children's museum. "Hey dude you remind me of my dead friend so that's part of why I got into Funhaus," is maybe the worst first sentence I've ever spoken to someone in real life. So again, I'm terribly sorry. But I also want to say how awesome it was to watch all the stuff you did over the years at Funhaus. I know from still watching your content now that there's some level of grime that covers those years and they aren't the fondest to look back on. But I do think things like Time 2 Hakk, Quintessential Gamer, Hard Nettin' were such touchstones of Funhaus content that will live on forever. From an outside perspective, it seems like you're doing well, and I'm excited to keep seeing you on BYTT and IGv3(4?).
u/RyanRyanReddit - Ryan, my dude. I literally don't know if I could even adequately describe just how much you've made me laugh just by literally being you. I have a file in my notes app called "Real Life Stories" where I have a few words that trigger a specific memory from my life about some absurd happenstance that I found myself in. I feel like every time you tell a story, you're pulling from your own file like that but it's five thousand times longer and more interesting than mine. You're a supremely talented and funny dude and I'm so glad you were brought into Funhaus and ended up staying as long as you did. I hope to see you on Survivor 47/8/9! (I think I have Charlie for this season.)
u/hohnjolland - John, the perfect musical addition to the team. I'm so thankful for all of your awesome tunes, sick edits, and willingness to dive into the bit over the years. You brought an different vibe / flair to the videos you were in that always had me thinking, "Why is this dude the coolest person in the room." I've got my sub to Pour Choices Kitchen locked and loaded, and it has somewhat got me considering picking back up my own mantle "Chef Dude Jour" again. I hope that PCK is successful or you're able to explore other avenues as well. Also, I'm the guy from Gastonia that was in the chat. DM the location of that fish place in Lincolnton.
u/FH_Jon - Jon Deux. Man. I still remember when you first started appearing on videos. The chaotic energy, the commitment to bits, you've got some absolutely all-time classic FH moments under your belt. I'm super thankful that you got to be part of this crew and share your weirdness (complimentary) with the world. I know you put up the video a few months ago about your mental health, and I hope that things have gotten better. As someone who also struggles with depression, I know how devastating that can be sometimes. I truly wish the best for you man. Thanks for all the laughs.
u/linzbot - We're approaching territory where people were onboarding right as I fell off, but literally every single video I've seen since the announcement, not to mention your contributions to the streams has filled me with joy. I'm so glad you made the transition from Cow Chop to Funhaus, and, if there's nothing else I can say in adulation, it's that you blessed us with the absolutely perfect sign-off to something that meant so much to all of us. I had to pause at least a dozen times watching that documentary to cry, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. A truly stellar capstone to a truly stellar run.
u/mc_lotta / u/snackary__ / u/HandsomeMaster2 - It would be somewhat disingenuous of me to applaud the entirety of y'all's run at Funhaus because I, foolishly, missed so much of it. But what I do remember is how this trio absolutely crushed Inside Gaming, and how excited I was when I heard everyone had made the jump over to FH. Charlotte, your sardonic quips and joke delivery have always made me laugh. Patrick, I watched the entirety of the Demo Wheel run and I was amazed at how incredible a foil to James you were. Then, I watched a smattering of other content and realized you're the perfect foil in nearly every video. I'm so excited to see that both of you and Jacob have started up your goblin activities. Zach, I'm sorry I missed your true FH run. I was supremely stoked (and unfortunately subsequently saddened) as a fellow games industry person to see you rocking out on CoD socials. Hope you're doing well.
u/Gargarbinks - Brian! Screw it. Inside Gaming is basically Funhaus, so I'm including you here too. I've been watching you deliver gaming news for ages and I'm so thankful that you were part of this entire journey. Loved seeing you on Inside Games (legally distinct entity) and I hope the games industry never loses you. If anything, I know at least one other person who will freak out if Dragon Quest X makes it's way westward.
u/MadMattBT - No idea if you still peruse these parts or use Reddit anymore, but I just wanted to say, in addition to all the amazing work you put in as an editor, as well as the absolutely CLASSIC appearances as Hitman, thanks for being open about your faith and ideals while working at Funhaus. As someone who is also a Christian, it's always nice to see people who are comfortable enough in their beliefs to not only poke fun at themselves, but also embrace other viewpoints.
u/harmonygrits - Really getting into the archives now, Joel, I know your run on FH was short(ish), but I really did enjoy whenever you'd be involved with a video. The whimsical, but also oddly parental like vibe you brought to videos (despite your most well known meme maybe being liking something called "Unicum") were always a delight. Since then you've showcased your skills in for other content creators, and even now you've been giving away your fount of knowledge for free in some very interesting Medium articles. The industry itself might be in a worrisome state, but there's hope that people such as yourself will find a better path forward.
u/Spooleo - Spoole. The original "Goodbye" video. Thanks so much for all the laughs during that opening era of Funhaus. I'm not sure I ever agreed with the 1 Dollar 1 Hour premise, but it certainly made for some entertaining videos. And hey, your current gig ain't so bad itself, yeah?
u/charalanahzard - I was so supremely stoked when you first started showing up in videos because you fell so naturally into the format it was uncanny. I had enjoyed your games industry coverage up till then, so I thought I was getting the best of both worlds. So supremely thankful for your time at Funhaus and even now continuing the Deadly Premonition dreams alive and well on your stream. Not to mention the slate of podcast content you've been producing for some time now. As someone who is also hopeful to one day write for games, your journey has been inspiring. I hope to see your book come out as well! (If that's your goal!)
u/RahulKohli13 - Dunno if you consider yourself a Funhaus "member" or not, but given how much joy you've brought me through your involvement with their videos, it wouldn't feel right to not include you. Boyfriend videos, Sundered, Talking Stalkings, and everything in between, I couldn't be more thrilled that you were part of this journey. Also, selfishly, I miss you posting on Twitter. Those last few years were just great fun, but I understand why you left. I try to watch everything you're in. Mike Flannagan has an eternal fan because I just wanted to see more Rahul Kohli. You even reinvigorated my love and passion for football. YNWA. (I assume we just never talk about this season again, yeah?)
u/mandodoesstuff - Mando! Your Funhaus run is definitely in my personal time away from the channel, but one thing that consistently happened during that period was I would see clips with you in them and I would always, always laugh. I thought you were incredible during Last Laugh Season 2, and I've caught some of your RTP rebrand and subsequent Zazlav diss tracks. You're an incredibly funny and talented dude and I'm absolutely following Midnight Snack to see where the next thing takes you. (Yes, y'all should make a Patreon.)
u/filmDstryr / u/thenasacova / u/adambrouillard - So I couldn't find any of y'all's actual Reddit accounts, but these are your handles elsewhere so maybe this will work? For some reason the three of you are tied together in my mind as all having started at relatively the same time and were always the "Oh, there's Dan/Don/Bones!" excitement when you'd show up in a video. Dan, I loved your stuff on Filmhaus and Board as Hell, and I hope that Funhaus Avenue... I mean "Fhave" takes off. (Yes, I made that joke on Twitter already). Don, I still randomly quote "Michael Transactions" till this day. Just all-time incredible character work. Bones, I'll never get your insanely cool random nickname that's only used at Funhaus. To all three of you, thank you for your tireless efforts across all your time at the company, and for helping create some of my fondest memories.
u/therickreveche / u/ekombokom / u/HeyYoItsGabz - Rick, Justin, Gabs; first, I'm not positive if any of these accounts are actually y'all, so I apologize that I couldn't sleuth down your official accounts. Second, I completely missed the entirety of y'all's FH run and that sucks. Rick, I saw your work on the finale stream with the climax of what I assume to be an astoundingly good FH Wrestling show that I fully plan on watching in it's entirety. But I know that each of you contributed your talents, time, and effort to creating content on the channel and for that I'm forever grateful. I'm sure that as I (re)watch everything it will make me feel even more foolish for the time I missed out on.
I think that's every on camera person from the entire run. I've been writing for *checks clock* five hours now, so I'm going to feel like a real chump if there's some sort of glaring omission from this list. I also had originally wanted to see if I could track down a list of all the editors, interns, and other employees throughout the years that were either never on camera or only on there briefly, but I couldn't find a cohesive enough list that felt "right", so I'll just dedicate this final paragraph to everyone else that has ever contributed to this behemoth undertaking. No matter how "small" a part you may have played, it all worked toward a common pursuit that has impacted millions of people's lives over the course of a decade. I'm so thankful for everyone who ever walked through those doors and sat down to work on Funhaus.
Okay, this was even longer than I anticipated it being. If anyone has read this far, I just want to say... please get off the toilet. I'm sure your legs are asleep. If you're still taking a dump go see a doctor immediately, that's not normal. See ya!
2024.05.14 19:57 Erwinblackthorn Review: Tales of the EdgeWorlds Volume 1
Today’s review is for Tales of the EdgeWorlds Volume 1 by Shawn Frost. I was given an ARC copy back in July of 2023, but didn’t finish reading it until recently because I bogged myself down with too many activities, and something this long takes me a while. I will go through the things I liked about it, the things I hated, and wrap it up with a score from 1-10. My scoring system goes through 5 key components, with each one going over the creative aspect and the technical aspect. I will explain that part when we get to scoring later on, so let’s plow on through.
This is a collection, about 266 pages long, and is meant to be the first installment of a comedy series. Shawn runs a Youtube channel where he covers lolcows and does gaming streams, so comedy should come naturally to him. As a volume, this holds 4 short stories, each one holding about 8 chapters, with each story running for about 20k words. Technically, we can say it’s 4 novelettes, but as I explain the situation, you’ll see why they are so long. The plot may seem complex but the main characters go through the same situations: the dimensional merge occurred, between all of our creative properties and C-197, with a group of rambunctious penguins doing mercenary work.
Sadly, it’s not really the Chris-Chan version of a dimensional merge, so we do not see Sonichu or any of that wacky world… yet. It's volume 1, so it's too early to say it's not open to the possibilities. The style runs close to internet memes and those old Newgrounds cartoons, with the focus aimed at action scenes and descriptions of the creative world around their setups. But, as you read through the massive amount of descriptions and banter, you'll realize that very little happens in each story. I would say each one is very simple and with a low reading level needed to get through them, which is a double-edged sword in this case.
I say this because the writing tries too hard to claim a joke was made when it wasn’t really a “ha-ha” joke to begin with. It’s more like “ah… humor is detectable somewhere in these pages” kind of comedy. It relates to the offensive animals of Fritz the Cat, where the comedy comes from the absurdity of a setup, rather than a punchline that is found. Unfortunately, because the satire is absent and it focuses too much on the premise, the result becomes more like my favorite episode of Heil Honey I’m Home, minus Hitler and his annoying neighbors. The banter bogs down the pacing, turning each chapter into a short, yet overly long, sample of a scene, chained together by constantly shifting points of view.
Thankfully, this simple way of approaching a story allows a casual reader to speed on by. Things are easy to follow and characters are easy to remember. The main cast of Edgy, Jeff, Todd, and Hylus are separated by their brand of chaotic addictions. Addiction to drugs, addiction to hentai, addiction to video games, addiction to murder; all greatly expressed in what are meant to be running gags that resemble a sitcom cast. The ship they travel around in, from job to job, can easily be imagined as a "That '70s Show basement" version of the ship in The Orville, as each story goes to different planets where they meet different aliens.
There is enough in each story to understand what is going on, with the stories more as an exploration of lore than an exploration of character or theme. The lack of focus, as well as the indifferent prose, harms the way each tale is told. I would never say these are bad ideas or bad concepts, just bad ways to get them across. High concept, low composition. I would say the main value is from the promise of more to come than what is presented in the pages.
Time for the rating, which will be given between 0-2. 1 point goes to the technical aspect and 1 point goes to the creative side of things. Flaws within a point will reduce it into smaller decimals, but a single aspect is not able to entirely kill a story on its own. If it’s all technical or all creative, a story will be treated as mediocre. Even if I like something, it is still possible to get a 5/10, meaning it’s not suitable for the average reader who is more accepting of a 7 or an 8.
Plot: 1.5 Things happen and people go places in the form of a violent travelog. The pacing bogs down the destination with tourist traps.
Characters: 1.5 The characters play their roles well, even though their roles don’t play well with the plot. Their banter and quirks fall flat in parts.
Prose: 1 With clear points between A and B, wet and sloppy ideas are delivered dry and brittle. With each paragraph shoving lore down the reader’s throat, it can become death by a thousand detours.
Theme: 1 There is a great message about how chaos and anarchy transforms people into primitive animals. Unfortunately, the author couldn’t find it in the infinite vastness of subspace.
Setting : 2 It is a world you want to know more about and look forward to the next bit of info. Creative, exotic, to the proper point of chaotic, yet still comprehensible. Everything about this book is in the setting.
Final verdict: 7/10
The book is niche, it takes a while to heat up, and even then it’s as appealing as a mystery flavor hot pocket. If you’re into absurdity, you will enjoy it. I just wish the absurdity had some life behind it. There is room for expansion and I hope that opportunity is taken.
submitted by Erwinblackthorn to TDLH [link] [comments]
This is a collection, about 266 pages long, and is meant to be the first installment of a comedy series. Shawn runs a Youtube channel where he covers lolcows and does gaming streams, so comedy should come naturally to him. As a volume, this holds 4 short stories, each one holding about 8 chapters, with each story running for about 20k words. Technically, we can say it’s 4 novelettes, but as I explain the situation, you’ll see why they are so long. The plot may seem complex but the main characters go through the same situations: the dimensional merge occurred, between all of our creative properties and C-197, with a group of rambunctious penguins doing mercenary work.
Sadly, it’s not really the Chris-Chan version of a dimensional merge, so we do not see Sonichu or any of that wacky world… yet. It's volume 1, so it's too early to say it's not open to the possibilities. The style runs close to internet memes and those old Newgrounds cartoons, with the focus aimed at action scenes and descriptions of the creative world around their setups. But, as you read through the massive amount of descriptions and banter, you'll realize that very little happens in each story. I would say each one is very simple and with a low reading level needed to get through them, which is a double-edged sword in this case.
I say this because the writing tries too hard to claim a joke was made when it wasn’t really a “ha-ha” joke to begin with. It’s more like “ah… humor is detectable somewhere in these pages” kind of comedy. It relates to the offensive animals of Fritz the Cat, where the comedy comes from the absurdity of a setup, rather than a punchline that is found. Unfortunately, because the satire is absent and it focuses too much on the premise, the result becomes more like my favorite episode of Heil Honey I’m Home, minus Hitler and his annoying neighbors. The banter bogs down the pacing, turning each chapter into a short, yet overly long, sample of a scene, chained together by constantly shifting points of view.
Thankfully, this simple way of approaching a story allows a casual reader to speed on by. Things are easy to follow and characters are easy to remember. The main cast of Edgy, Jeff, Todd, and Hylus are separated by their brand of chaotic addictions. Addiction to drugs, addiction to hentai, addiction to video games, addiction to murder; all greatly expressed in what are meant to be running gags that resemble a sitcom cast. The ship they travel around in, from job to job, can easily be imagined as a "That '70s Show basement" version of the ship in The Orville, as each story goes to different planets where they meet different aliens.
There is enough in each story to understand what is going on, with the stories more as an exploration of lore than an exploration of character or theme. The lack of focus, as well as the indifferent prose, harms the way each tale is told. I would never say these are bad ideas or bad concepts, just bad ways to get them across. High concept, low composition. I would say the main value is from the promise of more to come than what is presented in the pages.
Time for the rating, which will be given between 0-2. 1 point goes to the technical aspect and 1 point goes to the creative side of things. Flaws within a point will reduce it into smaller decimals, but a single aspect is not able to entirely kill a story on its own. If it’s all technical or all creative, a story will be treated as mediocre. Even if I like something, it is still possible to get a 5/10, meaning it’s not suitable for the average reader who is more accepting of a 7 or an 8.
Plot: 1.5 Things happen and people go places in the form of a violent travelog. The pacing bogs down the destination with tourist traps.
Characters: 1.5 The characters play their roles well, even though their roles don’t play well with the plot. Their banter and quirks fall flat in parts.
Prose: 1 With clear points between A and B, wet and sloppy ideas are delivered dry and brittle. With each paragraph shoving lore down the reader’s throat, it can become death by a thousand detours.
Theme: 1 There is a great message about how chaos and anarchy transforms people into primitive animals. Unfortunately, the author couldn’t find it in the infinite vastness of subspace.
Setting : 2 It is a world you want to know more about and look forward to the next bit of info. Creative, exotic, to the proper point of chaotic, yet still comprehensible. Everything about this book is in the setting.
Final verdict: 7/10
The book is niche, it takes a while to heat up, and even then it’s as appealing as a mystery flavor hot pocket. If you’re into absurdity, you will enjoy it. I just wish the absurdity had some life behind it. There is room for expansion and I hope that opportunity is taken.
2024.05.14 14:01 Zappingsbrew A post talking about 400 words
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2024.05.14 06:00 Choice_Evidence1983 [New Update]: My family forgot to invite me to my grandparents funeral, but they are convinced I was there.
I am NOT OOP. OOP is u/justathrowaway282641
Originally posted to TwoHotTakes + her own page
Previous BoRU #1, BoRU #2, BoRU #3, BoRU #4, BoRU #5, BoRU #6
Editor’s Note: removed all relevant comments from older posts to make space for new updates. To see all older relevant comments, check out the previous BoRUs above
NEW UPDATE MARKED WITH ----
[New Update]: My family forgot to invite me to my grandparents funeral, but they are convinced I was there.
Trigger Warnings: death of loved ones, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, harassment
RECAP
Original Post: November 14, 2023**
I’m 30s F and caused a major blowup in my family and now none of them are talking to me. For background, my hometown is tiny (500pop) and when I went 2 hrs away to “the city” (15,000pop) for college, I loved it. I ended up staying after graduation, got married, and am happy here for a decade. I visit my home town every few weeks or so, call/text my family near daily, and thought we were all good. My family’s pretty small. Just my brother, mom, step dad, dad, step mom, and an aunt and uncle (mom’s siblings, never married, no kids). My mother's grandparents moved to my home town when I was in high school and were just down the street from us. My family has always been pretty drama free (aside from my parent’s divorce when I was a kid) and we’ve been happy. The step-parents were blended in perfectly and we share holidays and celebrations together. We’re all super close and just the perfect little group.
Ever since I moved away, the topic of “when am I moving back?” is constant, and I’ve always laughed it off. My home town has nothing. You have to drive 30 minutes for milk and bread. 60-90 minute one-way commutes to work. And floods shut down the main road every Easter. I love the town, but I love here more. I have parks, stores, community events, a library! The “city” is great. My family grumbles that I need to move back, but I refuse. I've been trying to encourage them to come here, especially since it's not an hour drive to the nearest medical facility.
Now to the meat and potatoes: both my grandparents passed over COVID times. They were both old and their health had been failing for a while so it was only a matter of time. Thankfully they didn’t catch it, but it made visiting them impossible and we survived mostly through FaceTime. They both passed in their sleep months apart. Both were cremated and kept securely under the kitchen sink for safe keeping while the pandemic blew over. That was 2021.
Well, I just found out my family held a funeral for them and scattered the ashes in my uncle’s maple grove over the summer. No one said a word to me about it. I’ve visited numerous times before and after and not one word. I only found out because my great uncle from California posted on Facebook a few weeks ago that he is entering hospice and was so thankful his health stayed strong enough for him to see his little sister (my grandma) to her final resting place. I was confused and called my mom. She was all “Yeah, the funeral we had in July, remember?” Ya’ll, I visited them for the 4th of July. They did the funeral the 8th. Not a word about it to me. They had planned this for months. Long enough to arrange for my infirm great uncle to be brought over from the other side of the country. Apparently, they talked about it “all the time”.
Everyone is convinced I was at the funeral. They SWEAR I was there. I can prove I wasn’t because Google’s got my location history. My hubby is baffled because he was supposedly there, too, but he had to work every weekend in June and July. Time clock doesn’t lie. My family straight up forgot about me. I’m hurt. I’m sad. And they’re pissed at me “for lying”. They think I’m causing drama over nothing. Nothing I say can convince them I wasn’t there. My family is united in this. And they’ve all put me “on read” until I admit I’m wrong. They think I’ve gone nuts. Either there’s a doppelganger of me attending events, or my family doesn’t want to admit they screwed up. I’m not backing down.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and my family’s been vague posting on Facebook about “forgetful kids” and mental health. It’s so freaking weird and I don’t know if I’m in bizzaro world or what’s going on. My mom’s best friend reached out and said I should just admit I was wrong and apologize, that I’m causing my mom so much unnecessary stress. I asked her if she’s checked everyone’s home for CO2. She hung up on me. (We checked our CO2, and our testers are running just fine.) I have reached out to a few people in my home town to check in on my folks, and they all say they're fine. I even spoke with the local volunteer fire fighter group to see if they could check for gas leaks. Not sure if they were able to.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve shown them the proof I wasn’t there, but they know I’m tech savvy and just assume I’ve Photoshopped it. Hubby says we need a break, and we’re going to be staying home this holiday season.
Edit: I don't know the update rules, so I'll post updates to my profile should anyone want them.
Update #1: November 27, 2023
Not sure how to do updates on posts, so figured I'd post anything on my profile. Folks have private messaged me and this will be easier I think?
It's 11/27 and Thanksgiving just happened. Hubby and I stayed home. We got a small turkey and made our own little thanksgiving. It was nice. We ate around noon, then watched a movie, and later sat outside with a bottle of wine to watch the sun set behind the trees and neighbor houses.
We usually take the day before off, drive to my folks, stay the night, and help with the Thanksgiving Day cooking. So it wasn't until Wednesday night that my mom broke the silence. Mom called and asked when I was showing up, and I told her we were staying home this year, but for them to have a happy Thanksgiving, and to give the rest of the family my love. She was quiet for a long time after I said that, and I think she eventually mumbled an "okay", or something, and hung up. It wasn't an angry hang up. Just a hang up. On Thanksgiving day, I sent a group "Happy Thanksgiving!" gif to our family group chat. I received a few "happy Thanksgiving"'s back. No one's said anything else. There's been no posts on Facebook.
Update #2: December 12, 2023
So, I think I mentioned in one of my comments that my dad and I usually talk on the phone every Sunday morning. We're both early risers so we'd chat over our morning coffees and watch the sunrise. Him and I haven't really spoken since this all went down and it's been tough. I'm used to talking to him, you know?
Well, I was sitting outside in my usual spot, watching the sun rise and freezing my butt off, and he called me. I'm not entirely sure how to describe the emotions I felt. It was a mix of panic, hope, terror, happiness, and dread. I ended up answering because I just had to know what he wanted. It was an awkward conversation. He didn't address the current "drama", but instead tiptoed around the situation with all the grace of an cow on stilts. For instance, a simple "How are you doing?" Type question was answered with a "Not good." And the whole conversation would stall out for a bit because he knew why I wasn't doing well. So we ended up talking about the weather, the various winter birds we'd seen in our feeders, and the Christmas decorations around town. Things like that.
Eventually he asked if we were coming out for Christmas, and sounded sad when I told him we weren't. He asked if him and step mom could come visit us instead, and I told him it wasn't a good idea this year. That hubby and I were going to spend a quiet holiday together. I let him know he should be receiving some gifts at his PO Box any day now, so to please pick them up from the post office and put them under the family tree for everyone. He said he'd ship ours to us as well.
And that was pretty much it. No crazy drama to report. The only posts on Facebook have been the usual Christmas excitement ones, countdowns, photos of Santa, silly gift ideas, photos of company Christmas parties.
On a personal note: Hubby and I are doing alright. Our health is good, our spirits high, and we're as solid as ever. We each got Christmas bonus' at our jobs, so we're excited about that. They're not large, but we're happy to have them. We have also done advent calendars for the first time ever. I got him a Lego one, and he got me a hot chocolate one. We're going to do the calendars again next year. Maybe make a tradition out of it.
Everyone please have a safe and happy holidays.
Inheritance: December 16, 2023
I've received a lot - A LOT - of messages and private DMs urging me to check into inheritance and such. I'm really touched a lot of Internet strangers are worried about me and I wanted to ensure everyone that inheritance is most likely not an issue here. I'd almost be relieved if it was, because then it would at least make some sense. Money does weird things to people, you know?
No one in my family is wealthy by any means. After my grandparents' passed, their small estate was used to pay for their end of life expenses and remaining assets split up. Everyone directly related got an equal split (so excluded my dad and the step parents). I don't remember the exact amount I received, but it was around $5k if I recall. My brother gave me his share, too, so I could finish paying off my college debt while the interest freeze was active.
The great uncle from California has kids and grand kids, and great grandkids of his own, and also isn't wealthy. I think one of his kids makes good money doing something in finance, but I'm not entirely sure. I can't imagine he left us anything, as we hardly knew him. My mom, aunt, and uncle only met him a few times in their lives, and my brother and I even less. Grandma and him were close, but I don't think he liked my grandpa much.
Christmas: December 25, 2023
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I've received a lot of support through my posts and I'm really grateful. Writing these updates have had a therapeutic effect.
Yesterday was Sunday, but I didn't answer my dad when he called. I just really didn't feel up to a pointless chat, so let it go to voicemail. He tried to reach me a few times throughout the day, but I didn't answer.
Our bestie last minute invited us over to his house for Christmas day lunch (today), so husband and I were busy all Christmas Eve making cookies, peanut brittle, and homemade suckers/hard candies for his kids. Mom tried to reach out as well, but I also ignored her calls.
We had a BLAST at lunch! Our friend's kids are a lot of fun to be around. They got some techy presents from their grandparents (Quest vr headset and steam decks, lucky little rascals) Friend and his wife aren't good with tech, while hubby and I are, so we helped get them set up while our friend played a good host to his folks and inlaws. The grandparents didn't realize that a Steam deck required a Steam account, so we got the kids all their own accounts set up, added them to our steam friends lists, and gifted them some games. We also bought them a few VR games for their headset, and they were off to the races with Beat Saber in no time.
As for my folks: My brother texted and asked if we could talk sometime tomorrow. I think me ignoring mom and dad has caused some kind of upset. Which they deserve.
Brother’s call: December 26, 2023
Spoke with my brother over the phone this morning.
For starters, he apologized for everything. Him and I are good (for now). For a bit of background, my brother and I are only 2 years apart. There weren't a lot of kids around growing up, so the two of us were often stuck doing stuff together. So we have a lot of shared interests and passions. He's been pretty silent on this whole matter, but still "part of the group", if you know what I mean. I think the thought of losing him out of my life was probably the most painful, because he's always been there. He was my rock until I met my husband. He's definitely a Mama's boy, though, so anything mom wanted, he made sure she got. I'm happy to have him back.
Without further ado, here's the story from the horse's mouth:
Mom apparently had a cancer scare late last year (which no one told me about, go figure), and dad had a stint put in his heart back in January (which I did know about). This "sense of mortality" has apparently lit a fire under Mom's ass to get me back home. But since I wasn't reacting to her passive aggressive hinting, she and step mom decided to go full crazy. My great uncle's health was bad, and he'd been asking about funeral arrangements for his sister (my grandma) for a while, so the moms decided to plan it. And use the event as a giant middle finger to me. They kept all the planning pretty hush-hush between the two of them, so no one on our side of the family actually knew about the funeral until like 2 weeks before. The moms said they'd invited hubby and I. No one thought anything about it. No one thought to mention, confirm, or check with me.
The plan was to scatter the ashes, say a few words, and maybe head to town for lunch. It was a small affair. The mom's didn't even tell the family that our great uncle was coming for it. Like I said, it was a small thing. Barely a footnote. No one thought it was odd because we're pretty chill people.
4th of July happens. Hubby and I are out. No one thought to mention it, as we were all busy celebrating and having a great time. Any time the topic of "this weekend" would start, the conversation would be quickly shifted by one of the moms. We went back home.
8th of July happens. Great uncle rolls into town with a few of his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids, and it's a surprise to everyone (but the moms). Everyone drives to the maple grove and the moms have brought a ton of food and stuff. It's a full blown party. No one on my side noticed I wasn't there, because there were so many extra faces outside the usual group. They did the spreading of the ashes, they said their words, they ate, they had a great time. It wasn't until our great uncle left, and all his side left with him, that they realized I wasn't there. And hadn't been there.
And this is where the crazy went up a notch. My brother says the moms were happy no one noticed I wasn't there. And that this was proof to everyone that I needed to move back because I was so easily forgotten about. Because none of them thought to reach out, right? They basically did a ton of guilt tripping manipulation bullshit and it made everyone upset at me for not showing up. Somehow it was my fault for being excluded. So suddenly everyone was on their side with "sticking it to me".
But then a few months went by, and tempers cooled, and then I guess the horror of it set in. Followed by the shame, but by then they were "in too deep". How do you undo something like this? And since I hadn't brought it up, I guess they figured they would all just stay quiet about it and hope I never asked about a funeral.
That's when I discovered the situation from my great uncle's Facebook and called my mom, who panicked and went with the stupidest solution. Claiming I was there. Don't I remember?
I ended up talking with a few friends from high school, mentioning the situation, and word got back to those in town. So suddenly town gossip and little old church ladies got involved. Was I, or wasn't I at the funeral? Did my family forget to invite me to the funeral of the only grandparents I'd ever know? Or am I just causing a ruckus? My brother said they all just went with mom's answer. Of course they wouldn't forget me. Of course I was there. Of course they're good people. And it just snowballed.
The family expected me to eventually fold. I'm usually a nonconfrontational person, so me sticking to my guns was unexpected. And then I missed Thanksgiving. And now Christmas. With no sign of backing down. And I guess the realization that I could just stop being part of their lives is setting in and my parents are panicking. He's tried just getting them to apologize and explain, but stubbornness prevails. They want to rug sweep, but I'm not letting them.
My brother is upset with everything that's happened. He's realized just how crappy it all has been and he wants nothing to do with it anymore. But since he lives with my mom, he can't "get away from it".
He has asked if he can come stay with us for a little bit. I spoke with hubby, and he's in agreement with me that my brother can come crash in our spare bedroom for as long as he wants. Brother works remotely, so it's no trouble for him to pick up and go. I believe he's making the trip today or tomorrow. Not entirely sure, but I expect crap to hit the fan when he arrives.
On a side note, hubby's stoked that my brother and I made up. The two usually game together, but haven't due to "the situation". He's downstairs right now setting up his man cave in preparation for my brother's arrival. I'm happy to see him so excited.
Brother's Here: December 27, 2023
My brother rolled in late last night. He'd obviously been crying and when I opened the door, he just held me and sobbed. I'd never seen him like that before and soon both of us were just standing in the doorway crying into one another. He kept apologizing. Over and over again. Said he wasn't sure why he went with it. Just kept saying sorry. Hubby got him all set up in the spare bedroom while brother and I talked. My brother's a wreck. He's always been a big guy, but he's lost a lot of weight and his clothes just hang off him. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was on drugs. We talked for a little bit before bed and he re-explained everything for my husband. I'd told hubby the story, but it was just so weird that hearing it again helped.
This morning my brother was up at dawn making some coffee and getting his work day going. Hubby's off all week (lucky) so hubby made us working folk some pancakes and bacon. So far everything's peaceful. We've decided not to answer any calls from our family. They've been made aware that he arrived safely, and that we are going to spend the New Years together, and that we're not answering any calls until January 1st. They may text if they wish. I'm sure they're losing their minds. Serves them right.
Everyone, have a safe and happy new years! Don't drink and drive!
Happy 2024!: January 2, 2024
I hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable holidays, and may the new year be full of joy and happiness!
Not too much of an update. Things here have been quiet. My brother's settled in nicely and he's a great housemate. Our place isn't very big, but we have full basement and a nice outside patio/porch area so it doesn't feel crowded at all with the extra addition. He's a quiet and clean guy. No hassle at all. He got some fresh clothes from the Walmart, a haircut, and trimmed his beard, so he's more "presentable" now. He's a lady killer when he gets cleaned up. He's made nice with the (very nosy, but kind) retired couple next door and is adapting to "city living" nicely.
Folks back home have been mostly well behaved. There's been a few texts back and forth, as we're not answering calls. Mom mainly wants to know when brother's coming back, but he's keen on staying here for a while. Mom said I can't "keep him" and I told her he's a grown ass man and can do what he wants. Brother says he has her blocked after she ORDERED him to return home.
Brother has tentatively asked if he could stay long term, should he decide to, or at least longer than a usual visitor would stay. Which we're fine with. He has a good paying job and could afford an apartment, but he's never lived on his own and I would guess he has some anxiety about it. Should that be the case, he'll start paying us some rent and we'd probably adjust to give him the basement as his own space.
Had to change the locks: January 17, 2024
My brother is officially staying with us for the long haul. Hubby and him spent all Sunday organizing the basement and shifting things around so he now has his own area to be comfortable in. He's pretty handy and has also started fixing little things around our house. Our windows and doors have never closed and locked/unlocked smoother. He even fixed one of the closets we never use because we can never get the darn door open. Sadly, he also had to change the locks on our house and get us all new keys.
This is because while hubby and I were out this Saturday, the moms showed up. They'd been calling and texting us all week, but we weren't really answering them, so I guess the two decided to drive over and hash it out in person. They have emergency keys to my place, and just let themselves in. Brother told them to leave, they argued, and my nosy (but kind) neighbors called the police when they noticed the commotion. So, we get a call from neighbor's wife, return home to some cops in our yard, all the neighbors out "vacuuming their trees", and my nosy (but kind) neighbors standing on my porch with my brother behind them, doing their best Gandalf "You shall not pass" impression.
Had to talk with the cops, explain that we were having a family dispute and word vomited. I don't really remember what all I said, and was shaking a lot. Our local cops are really great. Fantastic guys and gals in blue, and took it all in stride. It's really cold here, so one had me join him in his cruiser with the heat on, and gave me a bottle of water to calm down while we talked. They asked if we wanted the moms trespassed but I wasn't sure if that counted as a criminal charge so just asked the cops if they could just make them leave, which the cops did with no fuss. I think the moms were shocked we were taking this so seriously. They didn't fight or scream at us. Just left quietly.
My dad promised me he'd make sure his wife left us alone. "Or else". He said he'd also have a stern talk with my mom. Him and I talked Sunday morning, and he seemed absolutely at the end of his rope. Husband jokingly told my dad he could move in, too. To which he declined.
Not sure where to go from here, but we're getting some ring cameras installed once they arrive. And everyone but my dad is blocked. Hopefully they all just leave us alone.
Nothing New To Report: February 2, 2024
Had a lot of DMs for updates, but don't have much anything to report on. The moms are behaving themselves. All's quiet on the western front. Felt weird ignoring or copy/pasting "no updates" to everyone, so here's what we've been doing, should anyone care.
Dad got a new bird/squirrel feeder from Amazon (looks like a little picnic table for a child's dolly but has a mesh top for the bird seed. I think it's supposed to be for chickens?) It's totes adorbs. To his horror, it also works as a Cooper hawk feeder, so now he's "fortifying his defenses" and putting up some trellises around it. He'll have to wait till warmer weather before planting anything to grow on them.
We had some ring cameras installed and put in a motion-activated camera that double functions as a light bulb. It goes in the light fixture outside the front door and is pretty cool. Video quality isn't all that great, but it's a nice addition I guess. It does overlook the bird feeders, so I've been watching it on my lunch breaks on the days I have to go into the office.
Hubby and brother are feuding. They started a coop farm in Stardew Valley a few days ago and they both want to romance Leah. My husband confided in me that he's also been romancing Sebastian as a backup. I'm not sure why he's keeping this a secret, but he's pretty smug about it.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
fractal_frog I hope your dad can outsmart the hawks!
My dad came out for a visit over the weekend. We had a good time and the weather was lovely for some grilling and beers. It was really nice to see him again and he seemed healthy and in good spirits.
Here's his report from back home: Step mom (dad's wife) has started to realize she's screwed up. I credit her change of mindset to the fact that my dad sat her down and laid it out for her: she leaves his kids alone, or she's getting divorce papers. That apparently shut her up right quick, because they had a prenup done when they married and I'm not sure the details of it, but it wouldn't end favorably for her. She hasn't worked in years, so I imagine she'd be eligible for alimony? But I'm not versed in any of that legal mumbojumbo. Dad didn't seem too worried about it, so I'm not gonna worry about it.
Step dad was pissed the police were involved in the last "mom visit" (despite no one getting arrested or anything) and was in a "the kids are out of control and need to be reigned back in" mindset. When my dad pointed out that "the kids" in question were all in their mid-30s, it took some of the steam out of stepdad's sails. According to my dad, even my mom looked a little surprised when he said that. So, part of me is wondering if a good chunk of this whole thing is my mom not truly realizing that her kids were grown, and no longer children she could make demands of. Both of the moms have left us alone. I expected my mom to continue to kick up a fuss, but I think the cops spooked her.
There was a wonderful suggestion by a comment or to get their pastor involved, which I passed along to my dad. Dad has since spoken to their pastor about everything. He's a young guy, relatively new to their church, and joked that his first month on the job he had to do 3 funerals in a row and his new "flock" were just dying to get away from him, so he's got a sense of humor which is nice. The new pastor agreed to sit down with everyone and help the family hash it all out in a true "Come to Jesus" type moment next month, so that maybe we could celebrate Easter together as our first holiday as a family. Dad said the pastor was aware our family was having some troubles, but unsure of exactly what was going on, and since he was new, the pastor didn't want to pry. He has also agreed to do a small service down at my uncle's maple grove later in the summer, as it usually floods and is a muddy mess all spring. According to my dad, my aunt and uncle are so over all the drama and just ready to move on, so I expect hugs and apologies from them when we next meet.
Stardew Valley Update: My brother was victorious in the grand fight for Leah. It was a hard battle. Well fought. When my husband exposed his plans to woo Sebastian all this time, it was quite the betrayal. Dramatics aside, their farm is really cute and I'm so happy they're enjoying the game!
Update 4/1 - Final one I think - April 1, 2024
Happy April Fools everyone! I hope you all check your caramel apples for stray onions before taking a bite! I also hope your Easter weekend was a delightful one.
It is with great joy that I tell you all about our most recent update! Possibly even a conclusion to this whole ordeal.
The entire family (aunt, uncle, moms, dads, brother, me, husband) and pastor met at my dad's house and we all sat down to hash the situation out. As expected from what my dad said, my aunt and uncle greeted us all with apologies and hugs, which was nice. My uncle usually helps host the Easter egg hunts with the church and he brought our Easter baskets to give to us in case us kids weren't sticking around the for the weekend. I'm not sure why but seeing it made me tear up and feel stupid, because it was just a basket of candy but it meant a lot to me for some reason.
The pastor led us in a prayer and talked about forgiveness and such. He then asked us all to talk one at a time about how we're feeling and what we want the end result of today to be. No one was allowed to interrupt so everyone got to talk. It was nice. The consensus for the group was that most everyone wanted things to go back to "normal". The only ones who had any variance off this was my mom and step dad. They both wanted all us kids to move back to the area.
The pastor asked them why they wanted us back, and neither could give a good reason other than "because family", and the pastor asked us if we were thriving where we were. And we said we were. He asked if we were happy there. Which we were. He then asked my mom and step dad if they wanted us to give up our happiness to make them happy.
And Mom broke down and said no. We all had a good cry. The pastor then asked about the funeral and lies that led up to it and followed it and how it made us all feel and what we wished we'd done differently if we had the chance. It was all very emotional, but in a good way, you know? Everyone apologized and admitted they f-ed up and did a really crappy thing.
We all talked for a long, long time and the pastor was a great mediator. Eventually we all reached some sort of resolution and I think we're good now. Emotions are still high and a little raw in areas, but we stayed for Easter weekend and had a nice time. We're going to keep moving forward slowly and try to repair the relationship, but I believe we're well and truly out of the woods.
As for my brother, he's still staying with us, and mom will stop trying to guilt trip him back home. He's thinking about renting a small apartment in our area but we're not pushing him to make a decision. He knows he's welcome to stay as long as he wants. I think he wants to try dating (he's had a few girlfriends but never anything serious) and is embarrassed to bring any girls around our place, lol. He's been going to a few random classes/bookclubs at the local library for something free to do and hitting it off with all the little old ladies who attend, and they keep trying to hook him up with girls his age who they know. He has been on a few lunches/coffee dates with a couple girls, but I think he's too embarrassed by the attention to give it a real try at "dating" any of them. He's happy, though, which is all I could ask for.
I'm not sure if there will be any more updates, as I think it's all be resolved about as much as it can be at the moment. I wanted to thank you all for your words of advice and giving me a place to vent and scream into the void. Please be kind to one another and to yourselves. Thank you.
Relevant Comments
emjkr: What a nice and hopeful update, I’m really glad you stuck to your guns when everyone threw sanity out the window!
But, could your mother explain how she thought this would work out in her favour?
Things as wonderful as the moment. Still doing baby steps with The Moms. We're texting and talking on the phones more, which is nice. Very civil.
Dad "accidentally" bought a bunch of hand crafted bird feeders at a craft fair. By accidentally, I mean: he had a little too much fun in the beer tent, went for a stroll while step mom wasn't looking, and stumbled upon a guy's booth and bought "one of each". He wouldn't tell me how MANY "one of each" was, but he cackled like a witch when I asked. Step mom said she's forcing him to give a few to me, so I'm expecting a delivery or a Dad-visit any day now.
My brother is officially "going steady" with a girl. We've met her a few times and she seems like a real sweetheart. She's our age and has a little boy (5-6 years old, I haven't asked) from a previous relationship (The dad's not in the picture from what I can gather). She's the granddaughter of one of his Book Club members, so the old ladies made good match makers in the end. The relationship is still very new and I'm routing for them.
No new Stardew Valley updates. Work has been a little crazy lately and I haven't been able to play much of anything, and brother has been distracted by his new lady friend. So, husband finally started Baldur's Gate 3, and fell for Gale's "magic trick" so now those two are a thing. I expect him to be sufficiently distracted from reality for the next few weeks.
submitted by Choice_Evidence1983 to BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]
Originally posted to TwoHotTakes + her own page
Previous BoRU #1, BoRU #2, BoRU #3, BoRU #4, BoRU #5, BoRU #6
Editor’s Note: removed all relevant comments from older posts to make space for new updates. To see all older relevant comments, check out the previous BoRUs above
NEW UPDATE MARKED WITH ----
[New Update]: My family forgot to invite me to my grandparents funeral, but they are convinced I was there.
Trigger Warnings: death of loved ones, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, harassment
Original Post: November 14, 2023**
I’m 30s F and caused a major blowup in my family and now none of them are talking to me. For background, my hometown is tiny (500pop) and when I went 2 hrs away to “the city” (15,000pop) for college, I loved it. I ended up staying after graduation, got married, and am happy here for a decade. I visit my home town every few weeks or so, call/text my family near daily, and thought we were all good. My family’s pretty small. Just my brother, mom, step dad, dad, step mom, and an aunt and uncle (mom’s siblings, never married, no kids). My mother's grandparents moved to my home town when I was in high school and were just down the street from us. My family has always been pretty drama free (aside from my parent’s divorce when I was a kid) and we’ve been happy. The step-parents were blended in perfectly and we share holidays and celebrations together. We’re all super close and just the perfect little group.
Ever since I moved away, the topic of “when am I moving back?” is constant, and I’ve always laughed it off. My home town has nothing. You have to drive 30 minutes for milk and bread. 60-90 minute one-way commutes to work. And floods shut down the main road every Easter. I love the town, but I love here more. I have parks, stores, community events, a library! The “city” is great. My family grumbles that I need to move back, but I refuse. I've been trying to encourage them to come here, especially since it's not an hour drive to the nearest medical facility.
Now to the meat and potatoes: both my grandparents passed over COVID times. They were both old and their health had been failing for a while so it was only a matter of time. Thankfully they didn’t catch it, but it made visiting them impossible and we survived mostly through FaceTime. They both passed in their sleep months apart. Both were cremated and kept securely under the kitchen sink for safe keeping while the pandemic blew over. That was 2021.
Well, I just found out my family held a funeral for them and scattered the ashes in my uncle’s maple grove over the summer. No one said a word to me about it. I’ve visited numerous times before and after and not one word. I only found out because my great uncle from California posted on Facebook a few weeks ago that he is entering hospice and was so thankful his health stayed strong enough for him to see his little sister (my grandma) to her final resting place. I was confused and called my mom. She was all “Yeah, the funeral we had in July, remember?” Ya’ll, I visited them for the 4th of July. They did the funeral the 8th. Not a word about it to me. They had planned this for months. Long enough to arrange for my infirm great uncle to be brought over from the other side of the country. Apparently, they talked about it “all the time”.
Everyone is convinced I was at the funeral. They SWEAR I was there. I can prove I wasn’t because Google’s got my location history. My hubby is baffled because he was supposedly there, too, but he had to work every weekend in June and July. Time clock doesn’t lie. My family straight up forgot about me. I’m hurt. I’m sad. And they’re pissed at me “for lying”. They think I’m causing drama over nothing. Nothing I say can convince them I wasn’t there. My family is united in this. And they’ve all put me “on read” until I admit I’m wrong. They think I’ve gone nuts. Either there’s a doppelganger of me attending events, or my family doesn’t want to admit they screwed up. I’m not backing down.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and my family’s been vague posting on Facebook about “forgetful kids” and mental health. It’s so freaking weird and I don’t know if I’m in bizzaro world or what’s going on. My mom’s best friend reached out and said I should just admit I was wrong and apologize, that I’m causing my mom so much unnecessary stress. I asked her if she’s checked everyone’s home for CO2. She hung up on me. (We checked our CO2, and our testers are running just fine.) I have reached out to a few people in my home town to check in on my folks, and they all say they're fine. I even spoke with the local volunteer fire fighter group to see if they could check for gas leaks. Not sure if they were able to.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve shown them the proof I wasn’t there, but they know I’m tech savvy and just assume I’ve Photoshopped it. Hubby says we need a break, and we’re going to be staying home this holiday season.
Edit: I don't know the update rules, so I'll post updates to my profile should anyone want them.
Update #1: November 27, 2023
Not sure how to do updates on posts, so figured I'd post anything on my profile. Folks have private messaged me and this will be easier I think?
It's 11/27 and Thanksgiving just happened. Hubby and I stayed home. We got a small turkey and made our own little thanksgiving. It was nice. We ate around noon, then watched a movie, and later sat outside with a bottle of wine to watch the sun set behind the trees and neighbor houses.
We usually take the day before off, drive to my folks, stay the night, and help with the Thanksgiving Day cooking. So it wasn't until Wednesday night that my mom broke the silence. Mom called and asked when I was showing up, and I told her we were staying home this year, but for them to have a happy Thanksgiving, and to give the rest of the family my love. She was quiet for a long time after I said that, and I think she eventually mumbled an "okay", or something, and hung up. It wasn't an angry hang up. Just a hang up. On Thanksgiving day, I sent a group "Happy Thanksgiving!" gif to our family group chat. I received a few "happy Thanksgiving"'s back. No one's said anything else. There's been no posts on Facebook.
Update #2: December 12, 2023
So, I think I mentioned in one of my comments that my dad and I usually talk on the phone every Sunday morning. We're both early risers so we'd chat over our morning coffees and watch the sunrise. Him and I haven't really spoken since this all went down and it's been tough. I'm used to talking to him, you know?
Well, I was sitting outside in my usual spot, watching the sun rise and freezing my butt off, and he called me. I'm not entirely sure how to describe the emotions I felt. It was a mix of panic, hope, terror, happiness, and dread. I ended up answering because I just had to know what he wanted. It was an awkward conversation. He didn't address the current "drama", but instead tiptoed around the situation with all the grace of an cow on stilts. For instance, a simple "How are you doing?" Type question was answered with a "Not good." And the whole conversation would stall out for a bit because he knew why I wasn't doing well. So we ended up talking about the weather, the various winter birds we'd seen in our feeders, and the Christmas decorations around town. Things like that.
Eventually he asked if we were coming out for Christmas, and sounded sad when I told him we weren't. He asked if him and step mom could come visit us instead, and I told him it wasn't a good idea this year. That hubby and I were going to spend a quiet holiday together. I let him know he should be receiving some gifts at his PO Box any day now, so to please pick them up from the post office and put them under the family tree for everyone. He said he'd ship ours to us as well.
And that was pretty much it. No crazy drama to report. The only posts on Facebook have been the usual Christmas excitement ones, countdowns, photos of Santa, silly gift ideas, photos of company Christmas parties.
On a personal note: Hubby and I are doing alright. Our health is good, our spirits high, and we're as solid as ever. We each got Christmas bonus' at our jobs, so we're excited about that. They're not large, but we're happy to have them. We have also done advent calendars for the first time ever. I got him a Lego one, and he got me a hot chocolate one. We're going to do the calendars again next year. Maybe make a tradition out of it.
Everyone please have a safe and happy holidays.
Inheritance: December 16, 2023
I've received a lot - A LOT - of messages and private DMs urging me to check into inheritance and such. I'm really touched a lot of Internet strangers are worried about me and I wanted to ensure everyone that inheritance is most likely not an issue here. I'd almost be relieved if it was, because then it would at least make some sense. Money does weird things to people, you know?
No one in my family is wealthy by any means. After my grandparents' passed, their small estate was used to pay for their end of life expenses and remaining assets split up. Everyone directly related got an equal split (so excluded my dad and the step parents). I don't remember the exact amount I received, but it was around $5k if I recall. My brother gave me his share, too, so I could finish paying off my college debt while the interest freeze was active.
The great uncle from California has kids and grand kids, and great grandkids of his own, and also isn't wealthy. I think one of his kids makes good money doing something in finance, but I'm not entirely sure. I can't imagine he left us anything, as we hardly knew him. My mom, aunt, and uncle only met him a few times in their lives, and my brother and I even less. Grandma and him were close, but I don't think he liked my grandpa much.
Christmas: December 25, 2023
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I've received a lot of support through my posts and I'm really grateful. Writing these updates have had a therapeutic effect.
Yesterday was Sunday, but I didn't answer my dad when he called. I just really didn't feel up to a pointless chat, so let it go to voicemail. He tried to reach me a few times throughout the day, but I didn't answer.
Our bestie last minute invited us over to his house for Christmas day lunch (today), so husband and I were busy all Christmas Eve making cookies, peanut brittle, and homemade suckers/hard candies for his kids. Mom tried to reach out as well, but I also ignored her calls.
We had a BLAST at lunch! Our friend's kids are a lot of fun to be around. They got some techy presents from their grandparents (Quest vr headset and steam decks, lucky little rascals) Friend and his wife aren't good with tech, while hubby and I are, so we helped get them set up while our friend played a good host to his folks and inlaws. The grandparents didn't realize that a Steam deck required a Steam account, so we got the kids all their own accounts set up, added them to our steam friends lists, and gifted them some games. We also bought them a few VR games for their headset, and they were off to the races with Beat Saber in no time.
As for my folks: My brother texted and asked if we could talk sometime tomorrow. I think me ignoring mom and dad has caused some kind of upset. Which they deserve.
Brother’s call: December 26, 2023
Spoke with my brother over the phone this morning.
For starters, he apologized for everything. Him and I are good (for now). For a bit of background, my brother and I are only 2 years apart. There weren't a lot of kids around growing up, so the two of us were often stuck doing stuff together. So we have a lot of shared interests and passions. He's been pretty silent on this whole matter, but still "part of the group", if you know what I mean. I think the thought of losing him out of my life was probably the most painful, because he's always been there. He was my rock until I met my husband. He's definitely a Mama's boy, though, so anything mom wanted, he made sure she got. I'm happy to have him back.
Without further ado, here's the story from the horse's mouth:
Mom apparently had a cancer scare late last year (which no one told me about, go figure), and dad had a stint put in his heart back in January (which I did know about). This "sense of mortality" has apparently lit a fire under Mom's ass to get me back home. But since I wasn't reacting to her passive aggressive hinting, she and step mom decided to go full crazy. My great uncle's health was bad, and he'd been asking about funeral arrangements for his sister (my grandma) for a while, so the moms decided to plan it. And use the event as a giant middle finger to me. They kept all the planning pretty hush-hush between the two of them, so no one on our side of the family actually knew about the funeral until like 2 weeks before. The moms said they'd invited hubby and I. No one thought anything about it. No one thought to mention, confirm, or check with me.
The plan was to scatter the ashes, say a few words, and maybe head to town for lunch. It was a small affair. The mom's didn't even tell the family that our great uncle was coming for it. Like I said, it was a small thing. Barely a footnote. No one thought it was odd because we're pretty chill people.
4th of July happens. Hubby and I are out. No one thought to mention it, as we were all busy celebrating and having a great time. Any time the topic of "this weekend" would start, the conversation would be quickly shifted by one of the moms. We went back home.
8th of July happens. Great uncle rolls into town with a few of his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids, and it's a surprise to everyone (but the moms). Everyone drives to the maple grove and the moms have brought a ton of food and stuff. It's a full blown party. No one on my side noticed I wasn't there, because there were so many extra faces outside the usual group. They did the spreading of the ashes, they said their words, they ate, they had a great time. It wasn't until our great uncle left, and all his side left with him, that they realized I wasn't there. And hadn't been there.
And this is where the crazy went up a notch. My brother says the moms were happy no one noticed I wasn't there. And that this was proof to everyone that I needed to move back because I was so easily forgotten about. Because none of them thought to reach out, right? They basically did a ton of guilt tripping manipulation bullshit and it made everyone upset at me for not showing up. Somehow it was my fault for being excluded. So suddenly everyone was on their side with "sticking it to me".
But then a few months went by, and tempers cooled, and then I guess the horror of it set in. Followed by the shame, but by then they were "in too deep". How do you undo something like this? And since I hadn't brought it up, I guess they figured they would all just stay quiet about it and hope I never asked about a funeral.
That's when I discovered the situation from my great uncle's Facebook and called my mom, who panicked and went with the stupidest solution. Claiming I was there. Don't I remember?
I ended up talking with a few friends from high school, mentioning the situation, and word got back to those in town. So suddenly town gossip and little old church ladies got involved. Was I, or wasn't I at the funeral? Did my family forget to invite me to the funeral of the only grandparents I'd ever know? Or am I just causing a ruckus? My brother said they all just went with mom's answer. Of course they wouldn't forget me. Of course I was there. Of course they're good people. And it just snowballed.
The family expected me to eventually fold. I'm usually a nonconfrontational person, so me sticking to my guns was unexpected. And then I missed Thanksgiving. And now Christmas. With no sign of backing down. And I guess the realization that I could just stop being part of their lives is setting in and my parents are panicking. He's tried just getting them to apologize and explain, but stubbornness prevails. They want to rug sweep, but I'm not letting them.
My brother is upset with everything that's happened. He's realized just how crappy it all has been and he wants nothing to do with it anymore. But since he lives with my mom, he can't "get away from it".
He has asked if he can come stay with us for a little bit. I spoke with hubby, and he's in agreement with me that my brother can come crash in our spare bedroom for as long as he wants. Brother works remotely, so it's no trouble for him to pick up and go. I believe he's making the trip today or tomorrow. Not entirely sure, but I expect crap to hit the fan when he arrives.
On a side note, hubby's stoked that my brother and I made up. The two usually game together, but haven't due to "the situation". He's downstairs right now setting up his man cave in preparation for my brother's arrival. I'm happy to see him so excited.
Brother's Here: December 27, 2023
My brother rolled in late last night. He'd obviously been crying and when I opened the door, he just held me and sobbed. I'd never seen him like that before and soon both of us were just standing in the doorway crying into one another. He kept apologizing. Over and over again. Said he wasn't sure why he went with it. Just kept saying sorry. Hubby got him all set up in the spare bedroom while brother and I talked. My brother's a wreck. He's always been a big guy, but he's lost a lot of weight and his clothes just hang off him. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was on drugs. We talked for a little bit before bed and he re-explained everything for my husband. I'd told hubby the story, but it was just so weird that hearing it again helped.
This morning my brother was up at dawn making some coffee and getting his work day going. Hubby's off all week (lucky) so hubby made us working folk some pancakes and bacon. So far everything's peaceful. We've decided not to answer any calls from our family. They've been made aware that he arrived safely, and that we are going to spend the New Years together, and that we're not answering any calls until January 1st. They may text if they wish. I'm sure they're losing their minds. Serves them right.
Everyone, have a safe and happy new years! Don't drink and drive!
Happy 2024!: January 2, 2024
I hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable holidays, and may the new year be full of joy and happiness!
Not too much of an update. Things here have been quiet. My brother's settled in nicely and he's a great housemate. Our place isn't very big, but we have full basement and a nice outside patio/porch area so it doesn't feel crowded at all with the extra addition. He's a quiet and clean guy. No hassle at all. He got some fresh clothes from the Walmart, a haircut, and trimmed his beard, so he's more "presentable" now. He's a lady killer when he gets cleaned up. He's made nice with the (very nosy, but kind) retired couple next door and is adapting to "city living" nicely.
Folks back home have been mostly well behaved. There's been a few texts back and forth, as we're not answering calls. Mom mainly wants to know when brother's coming back, but he's keen on staying here for a while. Mom said I can't "keep him" and I told her he's a grown ass man and can do what he wants. Brother says he has her blocked after she ORDERED him to return home.
Brother has tentatively asked if he could stay long term, should he decide to, or at least longer than a usual visitor would stay. Which we're fine with. He has a good paying job and could afford an apartment, but he's never lived on his own and I would guess he has some anxiety about it. Should that be the case, he'll start paying us some rent and we'd probably adjust to give him the basement as his own space.
Had to change the locks: January 17, 2024
My brother is officially staying with us for the long haul. Hubby and him spent all Sunday organizing the basement and shifting things around so he now has his own area to be comfortable in. He's pretty handy and has also started fixing little things around our house. Our windows and doors have never closed and locked/unlocked smoother. He even fixed one of the closets we never use because we can never get the darn door open. Sadly, he also had to change the locks on our house and get us all new keys.
This is because while hubby and I were out this Saturday, the moms showed up. They'd been calling and texting us all week, but we weren't really answering them, so I guess the two decided to drive over and hash it out in person. They have emergency keys to my place, and just let themselves in. Brother told them to leave, they argued, and my nosy (but kind) neighbors called the police when they noticed the commotion. So, we get a call from neighbor's wife, return home to some cops in our yard, all the neighbors out "vacuuming their trees", and my nosy (but kind) neighbors standing on my porch with my brother behind them, doing their best Gandalf "You shall not pass" impression.
Had to talk with the cops, explain that we were having a family dispute and word vomited. I don't really remember what all I said, and was shaking a lot. Our local cops are really great. Fantastic guys and gals in blue, and took it all in stride. It's really cold here, so one had me join him in his cruiser with the heat on, and gave me a bottle of water to calm down while we talked. They asked if we wanted the moms trespassed but I wasn't sure if that counted as a criminal charge so just asked the cops if they could just make them leave, which the cops did with no fuss. I think the moms were shocked we were taking this so seriously. They didn't fight or scream at us. Just left quietly.
My dad promised me he'd make sure his wife left us alone. "Or else". He said he'd also have a stern talk with my mom. Him and I talked Sunday morning, and he seemed absolutely at the end of his rope. Husband jokingly told my dad he could move in, too. To which he declined.
Not sure where to go from here, but we're getting some ring cameras installed once they arrive. And everyone but my dad is blocked. Hopefully they all just leave us alone.
Nothing New To Report: February 2, 2024
Had a lot of DMs for updates, but don't have much anything to report on. The moms are behaving themselves. All's quiet on the western front. Felt weird ignoring or copy/pasting "no updates" to everyone, so here's what we've been doing, should anyone care.
Dad got a new bird/squirrel feeder from Amazon (looks like a little picnic table for a child's dolly but has a mesh top for the bird seed. I think it's supposed to be for chickens?) It's totes adorbs. To his horror, it also works as a Cooper hawk feeder, so now he's "fortifying his defenses" and putting up some trellises around it. He'll have to wait till warmer weather before planting anything to grow on them.
We had some ring cameras installed and put in a motion-activated camera that double functions as a light bulb. It goes in the light fixture outside the front door and is pretty cool. Video quality isn't all that great, but it's a nice addition I guess. It does overlook the bird feeders, so I've been watching it on my lunch breaks on the days I have to go into the office.
Hubby and brother are feuding. They started a coop farm in Stardew Valley a few days ago and they both want to romance Leah. My husband confided in me that he's also been romancing Sebastian as a backup. I'm not sure why he's keeping this a secret, but he's pretty smug about it.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
fractal_frog I hope your dad can outsmart the hawks!
OOP: He'll be able to, I just know it. He's used to dealing with the wildlife and having hawks about, but he just wasn't expecting one to snag a meal right from his new feeder.MissOP: keep the updates coming. the moms are so close to folding it's just a little bit more. LMAO also, the bro mance between your husband and brother is so cute. lol Honestly, I think your husband making sure he has a side piece of Sebastian is absolutely the play.
I told him it was "technically" still a bird feeder. Just....for bigger birds. Which he thought was funny. He said he might make a little "no hawks allowed" sign to put up next to it.
OOP: So far still no word from the moms, but I hope you're right. I would love an apology and for us to begin moving past this. But I NEED that apology. I feel selfish saying that, but I refuse to "be the bigger person" on this. I just won't.Update: February 27, 2024
As for my brother and husband, yeah, they're basically soul mates. The two hit it off immediately when they first met, and they've been thick as thieves for years.
My dad came out for a visit over the weekend. We had a good time and the weather was lovely for some grilling and beers. It was really nice to see him again and he seemed healthy and in good spirits.
Here's his report from back home: Step mom (dad's wife) has started to realize she's screwed up. I credit her change of mindset to the fact that my dad sat her down and laid it out for her: she leaves his kids alone, or she's getting divorce papers. That apparently shut her up right quick, because they had a prenup done when they married and I'm not sure the details of it, but it wouldn't end favorably for her. She hasn't worked in years, so I imagine she'd be eligible for alimony? But I'm not versed in any of that legal mumbojumbo. Dad didn't seem too worried about it, so I'm not gonna worry about it.
Step dad was pissed the police were involved in the last "mom visit" (despite no one getting arrested or anything) and was in a "the kids are out of control and need to be reigned back in" mindset. When my dad pointed out that "the kids" in question were all in their mid-30s, it took some of the steam out of stepdad's sails. According to my dad, even my mom looked a little surprised when he said that. So, part of me is wondering if a good chunk of this whole thing is my mom not truly realizing that her kids were grown, and no longer children she could make demands of. Both of the moms have left us alone. I expected my mom to continue to kick up a fuss, but I think the cops spooked her.
There was a wonderful suggestion by a comment or to get their pastor involved, which I passed along to my dad. Dad has since spoken to their pastor about everything. He's a young guy, relatively new to their church, and joked that his first month on the job he had to do 3 funerals in a row and his new "flock" were just dying to get away from him, so he's got a sense of humor which is nice. The new pastor agreed to sit down with everyone and help the family hash it all out in a true "Come to Jesus" type moment next month, so that maybe we could celebrate Easter together as our first holiday as a family. Dad said the pastor was aware our family was having some troubles, but unsure of exactly what was going on, and since he was new, the pastor didn't want to pry. He has also agreed to do a small service down at my uncle's maple grove later in the summer, as it usually floods and is a muddy mess all spring. According to my dad, my aunt and uncle are so over all the drama and just ready to move on, so I expect hugs and apologies from them when we next meet.
Stardew Valley Update: My brother was victorious in the grand fight for Leah. It was a hard battle. Well fought. When my husband exposed his plans to woo Sebastian all this time, it was quite the betrayal. Dramatics aside, their farm is really cute and I'm so happy they're enjoying the game!
Update 4/1 - Final one I think - April 1, 2024
Happy April Fools everyone! I hope you all check your caramel apples for stray onions before taking a bite! I also hope your Easter weekend was a delightful one.
It is with great joy that I tell you all about our most recent update! Possibly even a conclusion to this whole ordeal.
The entire family (aunt, uncle, moms, dads, brother, me, husband) and pastor met at my dad's house and we all sat down to hash the situation out. As expected from what my dad said, my aunt and uncle greeted us all with apologies and hugs, which was nice. My uncle usually helps host the Easter egg hunts with the church and he brought our Easter baskets to give to us in case us kids weren't sticking around the for the weekend. I'm not sure why but seeing it made me tear up and feel stupid, because it was just a basket of candy but it meant a lot to me for some reason.
The pastor led us in a prayer and talked about forgiveness and such. He then asked us all to talk one at a time about how we're feeling and what we want the end result of today to be. No one was allowed to interrupt so everyone got to talk. It was nice. The consensus for the group was that most everyone wanted things to go back to "normal". The only ones who had any variance off this was my mom and step dad. They both wanted all us kids to move back to the area.
The pastor asked them why they wanted us back, and neither could give a good reason other than "because family", and the pastor asked us if we were thriving where we were. And we said we were. He asked if we were happy there. Which we were. He then asked my mom and step dad if they wanted us to give up our happiness to make them happy.
And Mom broke down and said no. We all had a good cry. The pastor then asked about the funeral and lies that led up to it and followed it and how it made us all feel and what we wished we'd done differently if we had the chance. It was all very emotional, but in a good way, you know? Everyone apologized and admitted they f-ed up and did a really crappy thing.
We all talked for a long, long time and the pastor was a great mediator. Eventually we all reached some sort of resolution and I think we're good now. Emotions are still high and a little raw in areas, but we stayed for Easter weekend and had a nice time. We're going to keep moving forward slowly and try to repair the relationship, but I believe we're well and truly out of the woods.
As for my brother, he's still staying with us, and mom will stop trying to guilt trip him back home. He's thinking about renting a small apartment in our area but we're not pushing him to make a decision. He knows he's welcome to stay as long as he wants. I think he wants to try dating (he's had a few girlfriends but never anything serious) and is embarrassed to bring any girls around our place, lol. He's been going to a few random classes/bookclubs at the local library for something free to do and hitting it off with all the little old ladies who attend, and they keep trying to hook him up with girls his age who they know. He has been on a few lunches/coffee dates with a couple girls, but I think he's too embarrassed by the attention to give it a real try at "dating" any of them. He's happy, though, which is all I could ask for.
I'm not sure if there will be any more updates, as I think it's all be resolved about as much as it can be at the moment. I wanted to thank you all for your words of advice and giving me a place to vent and scream into the void. Please be kind to one another and to yourselves. Thank you.
Relevant Comments
emjkr: What a nice and hopeful update, I’m really glad you stuck to your guns when everyone threw sanity out the window!
But, could your mother explain how she thought this would work out in her favour?
OOP: I don't think mom thought too far ahead. I believe she assumed it would all just magically work out the way she wanted it to. She said she wasn't sure what she was expecting to happen (which I think was a lie, but I wasn't going to push it).mak_zaddy: This was a great update! But ummmmmm no stardew valley update? What gives? Has Sebastian been woo’ed? How’s Leah? What’s happening?
OOP: Sebastian has indeed been wooed (and whoohooed) There's kids and cows and chickens. The two are still having a wonderful time at the game. They're working on completing the community center but it's slow going as they aren't trying to speedrun and just doing things as they want. I believe they're thinking about going into the desert mines once they complete that bundle, but they're both super chicken shit about it!-my-cabbages: I don't really understand what you had to apologize for ... but I'm glad you're happy and the situation seems to be settling down
OOP: There wasn't much of an apology on my end, as everyone agreed I had done nothing wrong. Mine was more of a "I'm sorry you didn't feel as though I would listen." Type apology, which I don't really believe is a proper apology because apologies like that push the blame back on another. I mostly expressed my feelings and the shock of it all, and how betrayed I felt.
----NEW UPDATE----
Small, happy update: May 7, 2024 (1 month later)Things as wonderful as the moment. Still doing baby steps with The Moms. We're texting and talking on the phones more, which is nice. Very civil.
Dad "accidentally" bought a bunch of hand crafted bird feeders at a craft fair. By accidentally, I mean: he had a little too much fun in the beer tent, went for a stroll while step mom wasn't looking, and stumbled upon a guy's booth and bought "one of each". He wouldn't tell me how MANY "one of each" was, but he cackled like a witch when I asked. Step mom said she's forcing him to give a few to me, so I'm expecting a delivery or a Dad-visit any day now.
My brother is officially "going steady" with a girl. We've met her a few times and she seems like a real sweetheart. She's our age and has a little boy (5-6 years old, I haven't asked) from a previous relationship (The dad's not in the picture from what I can gather). She's the granddaughter of one of his Book Club members, so the old ladies made good match makers in the end. The relationship is still very new and I'm routing for them.
No new Stardew Valley updates. Work has been a little crazy lately and I haven't been able to play much of anything, and brother has been distracted by his new lady friend. So, husband finally started Baldur's Gate 3, and fell for Gale's "magic trick" so now those two are a thing. I expect him to be sufficiently distracted from reality for the next few weeks.
DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP
2024.05.13 23:43 patientpatronus AITA for distancing myself from my close friend after getting into a relationship?
There is a lot of context needed in this situation so please bare with me. Lately, I (25F) haven’t heard much from a friend who’s been in my life since college, so 7 ish years. We’ll call her B (25F). On our last year of college I got into a very toxic relationship where he wouldn’t let me see friends, go out, etc. if he wasn’t there too. This put a strain on all of my relationships, family included, besides my friendship with B. She was consistently supportive of me and was able to stay my close friend while sharing her grievances, which I made very hard for those around me because when you’re in that kind of relationship, your blind. She ended up moving out of our college town into my hometown after graduation. I wasn’t able to get out of the relationship and move back to my hometown until about a year later. I come to find out that B had been struggling in my hometown and had a hard time making friends or being happy. I was able to move into an awesome apartment with another friend who was actually the one to give me the courage to leave him. This was very exciting to me because I was able to introduce B to the lot of my friends from home that I adore. After that, me and B were both single and drinking a lot, sleeping around somewhat, and staying out late. B meets this guy named A who she fell for instantly. He didn’t want to be serious with her but they hung out constantly. She spent almost every night with him and despite him telling her that he only liked her as a friend and F-buddy, she was in love with him. She would drunk call/text every weekend, and started getting black out drunk a lot. When they broke up things got much worse. She would call me that she lost her car, didn’t remember getting home, even peed on her neighbors door and almost got kicked out of her apartment building for it. She had even threatened to kill herself once or twice. This has taken a severe toll on our friendship. These instances I always dropped everything to help her. I have become exhausted over the years and simply fed up. Fast forward a year and a half or so, two years after my last relationship, the one that was very toxic. I’d since become fed up with the antics so I started going home early when we hung out, distancing myself etc. every so often she’d “sober up” after a mental breakdown, somewhat get back on track, and then black out drunk again waking up at a random guys house. I recently met my now boyfriend about 4 months ago (28M) at my job. This guy really swept me off my feet. We will refer to him as X. It started off very casual but I was clearly very taken. B told me almost immediately after I told her it was getting serious between me and X that a girl she works with used to date X and that he ghosted her after telling her he loved her and that he’d buy her a house, all this really bad stuff. This rubbed me very odd because he seemed very sure about what he wanted out of a relationship and I felt we were on the same page about almost everything. I decided in the end not to bring it up to him, because I didn’t think the mistakes of anyone’s past dating history should affect the present, especially because he didn’t show me any red flags. He eventually shared it with me anyway and that he felt awful about how he acted in past relationships and how he has grown since then. I’d come to find out that this relationship B had told me about was over 4 years ago. She also constantly told me to “be careful” and to “keep a guard up” things like that because she swore he wasn’t a good guy and not the one for me. Note that she, at that point, had never met him and not once told me she was happy for me or seemed excited etc. This is all in the middle of severe mood swings, binge drinking and mental health episodes. She even almost didn’t come to my birthday dinner because she was too hungover and sad, and tried to make the night all about her and was a Debby downer the rest of the evening. B told me that another new work friend of hers that went to high school with X said he was an asshole in high school too, and that I should really rethink this entire thing. My roommate N also went to high school with X and explained to me that B’s work friend was a little off putting growing up, didn’t have many friends and since they went to a very large school, they didn’t even know each other. This was also very odd to me. I told B that these random bits about X’s past are not appreciated and did not affect how I felt about him. After all this I really started distancing myself from B. We hung out here and there, during the day mostly to avoid having to deal with her drinking. She’d come into my work with her new work friends to start their nights off before getting black out with them, buying bags of cocaine even, etc. This past episode was my final straw. She went back to her hometown to visit family and texted me something very cryptic. It was “we need to talk. It’s very important and will have to wait until I get back from my trip, which is in 4 days.” I felt like I maybe did something wrong, and I was concerned so I told her how I felt and she did not respond. After some time I texted again saying that I’m stressed and asked her to explain. She ignored that completely and instead texted to tell me she’s having another mental breakdown and was at the clinic. I told her I am there for her if she needs to talk and what not. She gets back home and we hang out twice and she did not bring up our “little talk”. I finally bit the bullet and confronted her and asked what it was about and she told me “not to worry about it”. I sent her a lengthy text telling her that I am needing to put up boundaries because I found what she did manipulative. I didn’t say the world manipulative explicitly because in the past when she’s been confronted, she shuts down completely and will block you out for weeks on end until you apologize. She ended up apologizing for that and didn’t mean to trigger me, since my toxic ex used to say things like “we need to talk. But it’ll wait til we’re at home” and then I’d freak out until he got home and it would be something stupid, he just wanted me to be stressed out for a while. After this I stopped reaching out. I saw her while I was out with X and friends of his, and we talked for a bit before me and X went home for the night. The next day she texted me “are we still doing something later or na?” And I didn’t recall making any plans so I said so. She just liked the message and I haven’t heard from her since, really. She’s had a really hard time in her life. She lost her mother during her teenage years and I know Mother’s Day is a very hard day for her. I really care about B, but her behavior lately is making me not want to be around her at all. I sent her that I was thinking about her and her mom on Mother’s Day and did not hear back(even though she texted my mom for Mother’s Day). Then I started seeing online that she’s liking posts with the topic “I hate that one friend who drops everyone when they get into a relationship, it’s the most disgusting type of friend”. Multiple posts like that, and I know they’re about me. It made me feel really guilty for not hanging out with B anymore. I ask my other friends if the amount I see X bothers them, and the answer is always no. That I should be able to see my significant other who I’m falling in love with as much as we’d both like to. It’s not like it was with my toxic ex at all. It just seems to me like B is thinking it’s going to be the same way as it was. She’s fully ignoring me now, and even though I’m not reaching out either, I still feel like the asshole. AITA?
submitted by patientpatronus to AITAH [link] [comments]
2024.05.13 23:42 patientpatronus AITA for distancing myself from my close friend after getting into a relationship?
There is a lot of context needed in this situation so please bare with me. Lately, I (25F) haven’t heard much from a friend who’s been in my life since college, so 7 ish years. We’ll call her B (25F). On our last year of college I got into a very toxic relationship where he wouldn’t let me see friends, go out, etc. if he wasn’t there too. This put a strain on all of my relationships, family included, besides my friendship with B. She was consistently supportive of me and was able to stay my close friend while sharing her grievances, which I made very hard for those around me because when you’re in that kind of relationship, your blind. She ended up moving out of our college town into my hometown after graduation. I wasn’t able to get out of the relationship and move back to my hometown until about a year later. I come to find out that B had been struggling in my hometown and had a hard time making friends or being happy. I was able to move into an awesome apartment with another friend who was actually the one to give me the courage to leave him. This was very exciting to me because I was able to introduce B to the lot of my friends from home that I adore. After that, me and B were both single and drinking a lot, sleeping around somewhat, and staying out late. B meets this guy named A who she fell for instantly. He didn’t want to be serious with her but they hung out constantly. She spent almost every night with him and despite him telling her that he only liked her as a friend and F-buddy, she was in love with him. She would drunk call/text every weekend, and started getting black out drunk a lot. When they broke up things got much worse. She would call me that she lost her car, didn’t remember getting home, even peed on her neighbors door and almost got kicked out of her apartment building for it. She had even threatened to kill herself once or twice. This has taken a severe toll on our friendship. These instances I always dropped everything to help her. I have become exhausted over the years and simply fed up. Fast forward a year and a half or so, two years after my last relationship, the one that was very toxic. I’d since become fed up with the antics so I started going home early when we hung out, distancing myself etc. every so often she’d “sober up” after a mental breakdown, somewhat get back on track, and then black out drunk again waking up at a random guys house. I recently met my now boyfriend about 4 months ago (28M) at my job. This guy really swept me off my feet. We will refer to him as X. It started off very casual but I was clearly very taken. B told me almost immediately after I told her it was getting serious between me and X that a girl she works with used to date X and that he ghosted her after telling her he loved her and that he’d buy her a house, all this really bad stuff. This rubbed me very odd because he seemed very sure about what he wanted out of a relationship and I felt we were on the same page about almost everything. I decided in the end not to bring it up to him, because I didn’t think the mistakes of anyone’s past dating history should affect the present, especially because he didn’t show me any red flags. He eventually shared it with me anyway and that he felt awful about how he acted in past relationships and how he has grown since then. I’d come to find out that this relationship B had told me about was over 4 years ago. She also constantly told me to “be careful” and to “keep a guard up” things like that because she swore he wasn’t a good guy and not the one for me. Note that she, at that point, had never met him and not once told me she was happy for me or seemed excited etc. This is all in the middle of severe mood swings, binge drinking and mental health episodes. She even almost didn’t come to my birthday dinner because she was too hungover and sad, and tried to make the night all about her and was a Debby downer the rest of the evening. B told me that another new work friend of hers that went to high school with X said he was an asshole in high school too, and that I should really rethink this entire thing. My roommate N also went to high school with X and explained to me that B’s work friend was a little off putting growing up, didn’t have many friends and since they went to a very large school, they didn’t even know each other. This was also very odd to me. I told B that these random bits about X’s past are not appreciated and did not affect how I felt about him. After all this I really started distancing myself from B. We hung out here and there, during the day mostly to avoid having to deal with her drinking. She’d come into my work with her new work friends to start their nights off before getting black out with them, buying bags of cocaine even, etc. This past episode was my final straw. She went back to her hometown to visit family and texted me something very cryptic. It was “we need to talk. It’s very important and will have to wait until I get back from my trip, which is in 4 days.” I felt like I maybe did something wrong, and I was concerned so I told her how I felt and she did not respond. After some time I texted again saying that I’m stressed and asked her to explain. She ignored that completely and instead texted to tell me she’s having another mental breakdown and was at the clinic. I told her I am there for her if she needs to talk and what not. She gets back home and we hang out twice and she did not bring up our “little talk”. I finally bit the bullet and confronted her and asked what it was about and she told me “not to worry about it”. I sent her a lengthy text telling her that I am needing to put up boundaries because I found what she did manipulative. I didn’t say the world manipulative explicitly because in the past when she’s been confronted, she shuts down completely and will block you out for weeks on end until you apologize. She ended up apologizing for that and didn’t mean to trigger me, since my toxic ex used to say things like “we need to talk. But it’ll wait til we’re at home” and then I’d freak out until he got home and it would be something stupid, he just wanted me to be stressed out for a while. After this I stopped reaching out. I saw her while I was out with X and friends of his, and we talked for a bit before me and X went home for the night. The next day she texted me “are we still doing something later or na?” And I didn’t recall making any plans so I said so. She just liked the message and I haven’t heard from her since, really. She’s had a really hard time in her life. She lost her mother during her teenage years and I know Mother’s Day is a very hard day for her. I really care about B, but her behavior lately is making me not want to be around her at all. I sent her that I was thinking about her and her mom on Mother’s Day and did not hear back(even though she texted my mom for Mother’s Day). Then I started seeing online that she’s liking posts with the topic “I hate that one friend who drops everyone when they get into a relationship, it’s the most disgusting type of friend”. Multiple posts like that, and I know they’re about me. It made me feel really guilty for not hanging out with B anymore. I ask my other friends if the amount I see X bothers them, and the answer is always no. That I should be able to see my significant other who I’m falling in love with as much as we’d both like to. It’s not like it was with my toxic ex at all. It just seems to me like B is thinking it’s going to be the same way as it was. She’s fully ignoring me now, and even though I’m not reaching out either, I still feel like the asshole. AITA?
submitted by patientpatronus to AITAH [link] [comments]
2024.05.13 20:47 Philothea0821 Reflection on Readings - Ascension of Our Lord (Year B)
First Reading - Acts 1:1-11
In the first book,\)a\) O Theoph′ilus, I have dealt with all that Jesus began to do and teach, 2 until the day when he was taken up, after he had given commandment through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. 3 To them he presented himself alive after his passion by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days, and speaking of the kingdom of God. 4 And while staying\)b\) with them he charged them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, “you heard from me, 5 for John baptized with water, but before many days you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”
6 So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7 He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has fixed by his own authority. 8 But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samar′ia and to the end of the earth.” 9 And when he had said this, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. 10 And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, 11 and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
Responsorial Psalm - Ps 47:2-3, 6-7, 8-9
Second Reading - Eph 1:17-23
that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, 18 having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, 19 and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power in us who believe, according to the working of his great might 20 which he accomplished in Christ when he raised him from the dead and made him sit at his right hand in the heavenly places, 21 far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in that which is to come; 22 and he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, 23 which is his body, the fulness of him who fills all in all.
Gospel - Mk 16:15-20
And he said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation. 16 He who believes and is baptized will be saved; but he who does not believe will be condemned. 17 And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; 18 they will pick up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.”
19 So then the Lord Jesus, after he had spoken to them, was taken up into heaven, and sat down at the right hand of God. 20 And they went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that attended it. Amen.
The Easter Season is coming to a close! This past weekend was the Solemnity of the Ascension of Our Lord and next weekend is Pentecost!
I want to focus first on the Gospel message today: “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation."
Jesus tells this really to every single one of us. Every week at the end of Mass, Catholics here the words "The mass is now over, let us go forth in peace glorifying the world by our light." Some Protestants to try and escape the binding loosing/authority to forgive sins given to the apostles, they try to say "Oh, Jesus only meant that in terms of spreading the Gospel." WHAT!? No. Jesus tells us to preach the Gospel to all of creation! Jesus came to save everyone and so everyone needs to here the Gospel for it is only through Jesus Christ, only through the Gospel, only through the Church that one can be saved!
Now, focusing on the angels' words from Acts:
To date, by my research the Catholic Church has
Yes, we do not do them to be saved, but rather because we are saved! We do them out of love for Christ and His people!
Christ might have departed from us physically, but He is still hard at work through His Church, His body. He sent us the Holy Spirit to be an advocate for the Church, as well as gave us the apostles to carry on Christ's mission through their teachings and other works.
Let us pray:
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
God, Our Father in Heaven, You gave us Your Son, Jesus Christ to come into this world to die for our sins. You gave us Your Spirit to guide us always calling us to you. Give us the grace of Your Son, the Bread of Life, in the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist to give us not only bodily strength but spiritual strength to all those who often grow tired from doing your sacred work. You gave us dominion over all the birds of the sky, fish of the sea, and creatures that crawl about the land, help us to cherish your creation that you have given to us as stewards. Help us to recognize that, as stewards of not only Your creation, but Your Word, that our work is not only looking upwards, but outwards. We are all your children created in your image. Help us to see you in the elderly woman alone on the park bench, the homeless man begging on the street, the criminal behind bars, and many more. How could we ever imagine others seeing You in us if we cannot see You in them?
We ask you today to heal the battle wounds that Your Most Holy Church has suffered. Eradicate all sources of corruption and evil in your Virgin Bride. Help us to aid those who have suffered ill at the hands of those who claim to be your servants. We ask Your mercy upon these people who abuse Your Name and give us the grace to be able to forgive them, particularly if we ourselves have been hurt. If we have been a source of pain to others, fill our hearts with Your charity so we can turn away from that evil and love our neighbor as You have loved Your Son.
We ask this in the name of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, Your only Begotten Son and the Holy Spirit who together with you and the Son is both adored and glorified. Amen.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
submitted by Philothea0821 to Christianity [link] [comments]
In the first book,\)a\) O Theoph′ilus, I have dealt with all that Jesus began to do and teach, 2 until the day when he was taken up, after he had given commandment through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. 3 To them he presented himself alive after his passion by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days, and speaking of the kingdom of God. 4 And while staying\)b\) with them he charged them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, “you heard from me, 5 for John baptized with water, but before many days you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”
6 So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7 He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has fixed by his own authority. 8 But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samar′ia and to the end of the earth.” 9 And when he had said this, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. 10 And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, 11 and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
Responsorial Psalm - Ps 47:2-3, 6-7, 8-9
Second Reading - Eph 1:17-23
that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, 18 having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, 19 and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power in us who believe, according to the working of his great might 20 which he accomplished in Christ when he raised him from the dead and made him sit at his right hand in the heavenly places, 21 far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in that which is to come; 22 and he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, 23 which is his body, the fulness of him who fills all in all.
Gospel - Mk 16:15-20
And he said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation. 16 He who believes and is baptized will be saved; but he who does not believe will be condemned. 17 And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; 18 they will pick up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.”
19 So then the Lord Jesus, after he had spoken to them, was taken up into heaven, and sat down at the right hand of God. 20 And they went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that attended it. Amen.
I want to focus first on the Gospel message today: “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation."
Jesus tells this really to every single one of us. Every week at the end of Mass, Catholics here the words "The mass is now over, let us go forth in peace glorifying the world by our light." Some Protestants to try and escape the binding loosing/authority to forgive sins given to the apostles, they try to say "Oh, Jesus only meant that in terms of spreading the Gospel." WHAT!? No. Jesus tells us to preach the Gospel to all of creation! Jesus came to save everyone and so everyone needs to here the Gospel for it is only through Jesus Christ, only through the Gospel, only through the Church that one can be saved!
Now, focusing on the angels' words from Acts:
“Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”Right before this, the apostles say "Jesus. How could you possibly go? You still need to restore the Kingdom of God!" Jesus tells them. "You are going to be doing it. Not me." Then the angels speak these words remining us that our work is not Heaven, but on Earth. We need to be the ones teaching the gospel, caring for the sick, tending the poor, visiting the imprisoned, etc.
To date, by my research the Catholic Church has
- 18000 clinics
- 16000 elderly/special needs homes
- 5500 hospitals (accounts for 1 out of 6 hospital beds)
- 200000 schools across elementary, middle, high, and university levels
- managed 2692 food distribution sites
- provided $116,000,000 in disaster relief
- built more than 34000 permanent housing units
Yes, we do not do them to be saved, but rather because we are saved! We do them out of love for Christ and His people!
Christ might have departed from us physically, but He is still hard at work through His Church, His body. He sent us the Holy Spirit to be an advocate for the Church, as well as gave us the apostles to carry on Christ's mission through their teachings and other works.
Let us pray:
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
God, Our Father in Heaven, You gave us Your Son, Jesus Christ to come into this world to die for our sins. You gave us Your Spirit to guide us always calling us to you. Give us the grace of Your Son, the Bread of Life, in the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist to give us not only bodily strength but spiritual strength to all those who often grow tired from doing your sacred work. You gave us dominion over all the birds of the sky, fish of the sea, and creatures that crawl about the land, help us to cherish your creation that you have given to us as stewards. Help us to recognize that, as stewards of not only Your creation, but Your Word, that our work is not only looking upwards, but outwards. We are all your children created in your image. Help us to see you in the elderly woman alone on the park bench, the homeless man begging on the street, the criminal behind bars, and many more. How could we ever imagine others seeing You in us if we cannot see You in them?
We ask you today to heal the battle wounds that Your Most Holy Church has suffered. Eradicate all sources of corruption and evil in your Virgin Bride. Help us to aid those who have suffered ill at the hands of those who claim to be your servants. We ask Your mercy upon these people who abuse Your Name and give us the grace to be able to forgive them, particularly if we ourselves have been hurt. If we have been a source of pain to others, fill our hearts with Your charity so we can turn away from that evil and love our neighbor as You have loved Your Son.
We ask this in the name of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, Your only Begotten Son and the Holy Spirit who together with you and the Son is both adored and glorified. Amen.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
2024.05.13 19:04 LiseEclaire [Leveling up the World] - Nobility Arc - Chapter 935
Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))
At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Nobility Arc - Arc 5
Previously on Leveling up the World...
DOMAIN INVASION
DOMAIN INVASION
DOMAIN INVASION
Rectangles kept on flashing in front of Dallion’s eyes. The emperor’s attempts to kick him out of his domain were increasing. The first wave had been merely a test to probe the defenses. Since no immediate response had followed, Jeremy had pushed on with more settlements, wedging them within Dallion’s territory.
Both attacks were performed in perfect coordination. It was obvious that the emperor was leading Archduchess Priscord, who in turn had decided that the risk was worth the potential reward.
As Dallion flew from his domain in the north in the direction of the Academy, he concentrated on a top-down view of his domain. It wasn’t so much looking as a general feeling of the dimensions changing. Moving settlements about had trained him to have a full sense of his territory.
Circles of nothing kept on eating into his domain as settlements with reasonably large populations invaded. Dallion could tell that they were soldier forts full of Priscord’s troops. The moment they got anywhere close to a settlement of his, they would rush out and attack outright. So far, they had captured three minor towns with minimal resistance.
DOMAIN INVASION
You have increased your domain
The TOWN of GRIFFIN FORT has become part of your domain
Another pair of rectangles popped up. Euryale had sprung into action, taking on one of the invading forts.
For a moment Dallion hesitated whether to get involved as well. If he made a push in the same area, he could well strand several of the invading forts, potentially commencing a counterattack.
No, the wiser part within him said. There would be time for that later. For the moment, all his focus had to be on the Academy.
Summoning three clay cylinders, Dallion cast three aether echoes and sent them to scout the general area he where remembered the Academy being. Adzorg had done a good job suggesting that as a target. In theory, the emperor could move its location like any other settlement. However, that wasn’t entirely true for the Academy buildings. Having them remain so long at their original location had caused the magic lines of the area to thicken like roots taking hold. Moving the buildings would rip a large part of them out, severely limiting a lot of the spells that the mages took for granted. In a worst-case scenario, a series of wild vortexes could appear, turning the Academy into the vortex fields. The archbishop was probably aware of that, which was why he hadn’t attempted to glass them with his magic rockets until now. That left the morsel ripe for the taking.
Veil, any trouble? Dallion asked through his domain.
You bet. Nothing we can’t handle, the overseer replied. She’s using hunting troops.
Actual hunters?
Nah, just the common riff-raff that we were volunteered to way back. Level twenty, all of them.
That was somewhat strange. Provided that the emperor was still in possession of the skill altar, one would have assumed that he’d boost the skill level of all his troops. Or maybe that was on purpose. After all, Priscord’s troops remained loyal to her, not the emperor himself.
“Be ready, Gleam.” Dallion summoned the shardfly near him.
You know they must have added a few extra illusions since our last visit, the creature said.
I see them, Aquilequia said in a smug manner. Being a great dragon, even when reduced to level one, had more advantages than the achievement had let on.
Dallion could feel the anger and bloodlust erupt from Gleam. It was the shardfly’s nature to face something strong, especially a dragon. Thankfully, she was loyal enough to keep herself from doing anything rash. After all, Dallion had promised her a go at the emperor’s great dragon in the near future.
It’s right over—
Before Aquilequia could finish, a purple beam of light erupted from below. Shattering the area illusion hiding it, it struck one of Dallion’s aether echoes, evaporating it on the spot.
Instinctively, Dallion thrust his harpsisword in the direction, sending a spark infused spiral attack. Dozens of aether barriers emerged in an attempt to block the attack. All they did was shatter one after the other, barely diminishing its power.
Careful, dear boy! Adzorg warned. There are buildings you don’t want to destroy.
“I know.” Dallion split into fifty instances.
In sync, Dallion’s remaining two aether echoes performed a series of line attacks, scarring the ground below them. Chasms, several feel wide and hundreds of feet deep, covered the terrain, breaking any illusions along their path. In the cases when buildings were destroyed, Dallion would ignore the instance, choosing one more appropriate.
“Aqui, can you consume threads?” Dallion asked.
Not directly. The dragon glided closer. Why?
“No reason to waste a good opportunity.”
COMBAT INITIATED
A purple rectangle flashed, then disappeared. It was immediately followed by a cluster of purple rays. Over half of Dallion’s instances were instantly vaporized, along with another one of his aether echoes. Alien was clearly not pulling any punches, making full use of the imperial rune golems entrusted to him. Curiously enough, there didn’t seem to be any bladerers or battle mages.
“Stop!” Dallion shouted, mixing his music skill with magic.
There seemed to be a momentary pause. The new set of rays quickly made it clear that his attack wasn’t as effective as he thought.
They’re not letting any mages take part? Dallion wondered.
There might be a whole range of reasons, Adzorg explained. My guess would be that Alien is keeping them close at hand.
Even the skilled ones?
Choosing to push the archmage into action, Dallion landed on the ground on a cluster of magic concentration. Based on the intensity, there could be no doubt that a building of moderate importance had stood there in the near past.
“Aqui!” he shouted. “Better learn this fast!”
He reached into the ground and grabbed the threads of magic flowing through it. With measured strength and perfect precision, he pulled them out as if he were taking out a weed, careful not to have any threads snap. Once he had pulled enough of them, he tore them out with one brisk action. Losing their contact with the rest of the mesh, the magic threads merged together, forming a ball of pure magic.
“Eat this,” Dallion offered, bursting into another set of instances. It was a good thing too, for one ray vaporized that particular instance of him.
Damn it, Dallion thought. The golems were adapting to his actions.
The dragon sniffed the ball of magic like a cat. Her indecision might have been described as adorable if it didn’t occur at the worst possible time. There was an option to have Gem assist, but that might prove rather risky. Aquilauia’s nature tended to be on the vicious side, same as Gleam.
“Aqui.” Dallion gently pushed her using his music skill.
Able to see the strands of music, the dragon still felt compelled to hurry up, gobbling the ball of magic in one bite.
AQUILEQUIA has assimilated the MAGIC cluster.
A purple rectangle flashed. Sadly, there was no mention of level increase. Even for a level one, the dragon required a lot more to advance. That wasn’t the point, though.
Shards of hardened aether rained all over the ground, as Dallion’s last aether copy cast a myriad of spells, providing him and the dragon with cover.
“Did you understand the principle?” Dallion asked as he pulled out another cluster of magic threads from the ground.
Yes. The dragon attempted a pout as she devoured the next ball of magic offered. I got it.
And just to prove it, she then sunk her teeth into the ground, draining an even larger amount.
AQUILEQUIA has assimilated the MAGIC cluster.
“You know what to do,” Dallion said, splitting into instances again. “Gleam, watch over her.”
Do I have to? The shardfly sighed like an older sister being denied a night out to look over her infant sibling. Even so, she did flutter close to the dragonlet, as did Dallion’s aether echo.
Dallion performed another spiral attack. He’d already discovered a number of buildings, yet not the one he needed. Fortunately, the Learning Hall also wasn’t among the revealed areas. As far as he could tell, he’d stumbled on one of the academy’s libraries and the senior mage cluster. The latter had been transformed into a battle mage training area, with most of the previous occupants having gone rogue or finding refuge among influential provincial nobles.
It’s always the rats that run first, Dallion thought as he summoned his new armadil shield.
“Gem,” he said. “Guard my back. Lux, help him.” A dartbow wrapped in blue flames emerged as well.
Alright, boss. The aetherfish said, floating the shield to cover Dallion’s back.
Lux followed, chirping instructions in his typically cheerful fashion.
I’d almost forgotten what this was like, Dallion said to himself. Sadly, there wasn’t much time to reminisce. While the human mages were focusing all their effort on casting defensive spells, the golems were attacking in full force. At any single point several cast rays of destruction indiscriminately in Dallion’s direction, while dozens more were charging straight at him, as if that would make any difference. Done was the time when he would be intimidated by a twenty-foot entity made of stone with speed and reaction in the high eighties.
Music spark attack, Dallion thought as he slashed the air with his harpsisword. Strands of music shot out, drilling through anything they came in contact with. Just for good measure, Dallion followed up by a line strike with his aura sword, casting twenty spells as he did.
Use a bit more instances, Adzorg suggested. Even when observing near perfection, the old man had something to criticize about. You still could be a target for rockets.
AQUILEQUIA has assimilated the MAGIC cluster, increasing her level to 2.
“Good work girl,” Dallion praised as rune golems disintegrated by the dozens.
MULTI KILL
(+2 Body, +2 Perception)
Killing twenty in one strike isn’t anything special. Killing twenty entities with an awakened level of eighty, is.
A kill achievement? For some reason that made Dallion think of his grandfather. He, too, had killed off dozens of similar levels. Did that mean he had earned that achievement as well during the Order of the Twelve Suns massacre?
Careful, boss! Lux chirped.
A wave of destruction came out from beneath the ground, vaporizing all but five of Dallion’s instances.
Instantly, Dallion split again, and just in time as more waves followed from beneath the ground.
MAJOR WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 50%
Even with all his effort, Dallion had still suffered a partial hit. A ray of purple had effectively severed both his feet. The pain was tremendous, though severely dulled by his high body level, as if he was having a tooth pulled with partial anesthetic.
An immediate soothing sensation followed, as the firebird moved the dartblade to where his legs were, transforming it into a pair of metal bowls.
“Is everyone alright?” Dallion looked about with his instances.
There was no trace of his echo, though Aquilequia and Gleam seemed unharmed, located on the only patch of land that remained unaffected.
Nymphs aren’t the only ones who can play tricks, the shardfly said. Looks like you lost a few inches.
Smiling at her humor, Dallion performed a series of spiral attacks directly below.
The ground tore, revealing hundreds of partial golems buried there. The designs seemed ancient—something that must have been constructed during the first days of the Academy.
“You really were planning things out forward, weren’t you?” Dallion said out loud. Even back before Jeremy had openly rebelled he had set things up so nothing he had created would fall in enemy hands. The capital, the Academy, and Moons know what else were nothing but expendable pawns that had served their purpose.
The realization sent chills throughout Dallion’s body. If the emperor was willing to use them here, he’d be willing to destroy every structure of the Academy, people included.
“Damn it!” A hundred instances of Dallion darted straight down. Unsummoning both his blades, he reached forward in an attempt to come in contact with the ground as fast as possible.
AREA AWAKENING
Next
submitted by LiseEclaire to redditserials [link] [comments]
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Nobility Arc - Arc 5
Previously on Leveling up the World...
DOMAIN INVASION
DOMAIN INVASION
Rectangles kept on flashing in front of Dallion’s eyes. The emperor’s attempts to kick him out of his domain were increasing. The first wave had been merely a test to probe the defenses. Since no immediate response had followed, Jeremy had pushed on with more settlements, wedging them within Dallion’s territory.
Both attacks were performed in perfect coordination. It was obvious that the emperor was leading Archduchess Priscord, who in turn had decided that the risk was worth the potential reward.
As Dallion flew from his domain in the north in the direction of the Academy, he concentrated on a top-down view of his domain. It wasn’t so much looking as a general feeling of the dimensions changing. Moving settlements about had trained him to have a full sense of his territory.
Circles of nothing kept on eating into his domain as settlements with reasonably large populations invaded. Dallion could tell that they were soldier forts full of Priscord’s troops. The moment they got anywhere close to a settlement of his, they would rush out and attack outright. So far, they had captured three minor towns with minimal resistance.
DOMAIN INVASION
You have increased your domain
The TOWN of GRIFFIN FORT has become part of your domain
Another pair of rectangles popped up. Euryale had sprung into action, taking on one of the invading forts.
For a moment Dallion hesitated whether to get involved as well. If he made a push in the same area, he could well strand several of the invading forts, potentially commencing a counterattack.
No, the wiser part within him said. There would be time for that later. For the moment, all his focus had to be on the Academy.
Summoning three clay cylinders, Dallion cast three aether echoes and sent them to scout the general area he where remembered the Academy being. Adzorg had done a good job suggesting that as a target. In theory, the emperor could move its location like any other settlement. However, that wasn’t entirely true for the Academy buildings. Having them remain so long at their original location had caused the magic lines of the area to thicken like roots taking hold. Moving the buildings would rip a large part of them out, severely limiting a lot of the spells that the mages took for granted. In a worst-case scenario, a series of wild vortexes could appear, turning the Academy into the vortex fields. The archbishop was probably aware of that, which was why he hadn’t attempted to glass them with his magic rockets until now. That left the morsel ripe for the taking.
Veil, any trouble? Dallion asked through his domain.
You bet. Nothing we can’t handle, the overseer replied. She’s using hunting troops.
Actual hunters?
Nah, just the common riff-raff that we were volunteered to way back. Level twenty, all of them.
That was somewhat strange. Provided that the emperor was still in possession of the skill altar, one would have assumed that he’d boost the skill level of all his troops. Or maybe that was on purpose. After all, Priscord’s troops remained loyal to her, not the emperor himself.
“Be ready, Gleam.” Dallion summoned the shardfly near him.
You know they must have added a few extra illusions since our last visit, the creature said.
I see them, Aquilequia said in a smug manner. Being a great dragon, even when reduced to level one, had more advantages than the achievement had let on.
Dallion could feel the anger and bloodlust erupt from Gleam. It was the shardfly’s nature to face something strong, especially a dragon. Thankfully, she was loyal enough to keep herself from doing anything rash. After all, Dallion had promised her a go at the emperor’s great dragon in the near future.
It’s right over—
Before Aquilequia could finish, a purple beam of light erupted from below. Shattering the area illusion hiding it, it struck one of Dallion’s aether echoes, evaporating it on the spot.
Instinctively, Dallion thrust his harpsisword in the direction, sending a spark infused spiral attack. Dozens of aether barriers emerged in an attempt to block the attack. All they did was shatter one after the other, barely diminishing its power.
Careful, dear boy! Adzorg warned. There are buildings you don’t want to destroy.
“I know.” Dallion split into fifty instances.
In sync, Dallion’s remaining two aether echoes performed a series of line attacks, scarring the ground below them. Chasms, several feel wide and hundreds of feet deep, covered the terrain, breaking any illusions along their path. In the cases when buildings were destroyed, Dallion would ignore the instance, choosing one more appropriate.
“Aqui, can you consume threads?” Dallion asked.
Not directly. The dragon glided closer. Why?
“No reason to waste a good opportunity.”
COMBAT INITIATED
A purple rectangle flashed, then disappeared. It was immediately followed by a cluster of purple rays. Over half of Dallion’s instances were instantly vaporized, along with another one of his aether echoes. Alien was clearly not pulling any punches, making full use of the imperial rune golems entrusted to him. Curiously enough, there didn’t seem to be any bladerers or battle mages.
“Stop!” Dallion shouted, mixing his music skill with magic.
There seemed to be a momentary pause. The new set of rays quickly made it clear that his attack wasn’t as effective as he thought.
They’re not letting any mages take part? Dallion wondered.
There might be a whole range of reasons, Adzorg explained. My guess would be that Alien is keeping them close at hand.
Even the skilled ones?
Choosing to push the archmage into action, Dallion landed on the ground on a cluster of magic concentration. Based on the intensity, there could be no doubt that a building of moderate importance had stood there in the near past.
“Aqui!” he shouted. “Better learn this fast!”
He reached into the ground and grabbed the threads of magic flowing through it. With measured strength and perfect precision, he pulled them out as if he were taking out a weed, careful not to have any threads snap. Once he had pulled enough of them, he tore them out with one brisk action. Losing their contact with the rest of the mesh, the magic threads merged together, forming a ball of pure magic.
“Eat this,” Dallion offered, bursting into another set of instances. It was a good thing too, for one ray vaporized that particular instance of him.
Damn it, Dallion thought. The golems were adapting to his actions.
The dragon sniffed the ball of magic like a cat. Her indecision might have been described as adorable if it didn’t occur at the worst possible time. There was an option to have Gem assist, but that might prove rather risky. Aquilauia’s nature tended to be on the vicious side, same as Gleam.
“Aqui.” Dallion gently pushed her using his music skill.
Able to see the strands of music, the dragon still felt compelled to hurry up, gobbling the ball of magic in one bite.
AQUILEQUIA has assimilated the MAGIC cluster.
A purple rectangle flashed. Sadly, there was no mention of level increase. Even for a level one, the dragon required a lot more to advance. That wasn’t the point, though.
Shards of hardened aether rained all over the ground, as Dallion’s last aether copy cast a myriad of spells, providing him and the dragon with cover.
“Did you understand the principle?” Dallion asked as he pulled out another cluster of magic threads from the ground.
Yes. The dragon attempted a pout as she devoured the next ball of magic offered. I got it.
And just to prove it, she then sunk her teeth into the ground, draining an even larger amount.
AQUILEQUIA has assimilated the MAGIC cluster.
“You know what to do,” Dallion said, splitting into instances again. “Gleam, watch over her.”
Do I have to? The shardfly sighed like an older sister being denied a night out to look over her infant sibling. Even so, she did flutter close to the dragonlet, as did Dallion’s aether echo.
Dallion performed another spiral attack. He’d already discovered a number of buildings, yet not the one he needed. Fortunately, the Learning Hall also wasn’t among the revealed areas. As far as he could tell, he’d stumbled on one of the academy’s libraries and the senior mage cluster. The latter had been transformed into a battle mage training area, with most of the previous occupants having gone rogue or finding refuge among influential provincial nobles.
It’s always the rats that run first, Dallion thought as he summoned his new armadil shield.
“Gem,” he said. “Guard my back. Lux, help him.” A dartbow wrapped in blue flames emerged as well.
Alright, boss. The aetherfish said, floating the shield to cover Dallion’s back.
Lux followed, chirping instructions in his typically cheerful fashion.
I’d almost forgotten what this was like, Dallion said to himself. Sadly, there wasn’t much time to reminisce. While the human mages were focusing all their effort on casting defensive spells, the golems were attacking in full force. At any single point several cast rays of destruction indiscriminately in Dallion’s direction, while dozens more were charging straight at him, as if that would make any difference. Done was the time when he would be intimidated by a twenty-foot entity made of stone with speed and reaction in the high eighties.
Music spark attack, Dallion thought as he slashed the air with his harpsisword. Strands of music shot out, drilling through anything they came in contact with. Just for good measure, Dallion followed up by a line strike with his aura sword, casting twenty spells as he did.
Use a bit more instances, Adzorg suggested. Even when observing near perfection, the old man had something to criticize about. You still could be a target for rockets.
AQUILEQUIA has assimilated the MAGIC cluster, increasing her level to 2.
“Good work girl,” Dallion praised as rune golems disintegrated by the dozens.
MULTI KILL
(+2 Body, +2 Perception)
Killing twenty in one strike isn’t anything special. Killing twenty entities with an awakened level of eighty, is.
A kill achievement? For some reason that made Dallion think of his grandfather. He, too, had killed off dozens of similar levels. Did that mean he had earned that achievement as well during the Order of the Twelve Suns massacre?
Careful, boss! Lux chirped.
A wave of destruction came out from beneath the ground, vaporizing all but five of Dallion’s instances.
Instantly, Dallion split again, and just in time as more waves followed from beneath the ground.
MAJOR WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 50%
Even with all his effort, Dallion had still suffered a partial hit. A ray of purple had effectively severed both his feet. The pain was tremendous, though severely dulled by his high body level, as if he was having a tooth pulled with partial anesthetic.
An immediate soothing sensation followed, as the firebird moved the dartblade to where his legs were, transforming it into a pair of metal bowls.
“Is everyone alright?” Dallion looked about with his instances.
There was no trace of his echo, though Aquilequia and Gleam seemed unharmed, located on the only patch of land that remained unaffected.
Nymphs aren’t the only ones who can play tricks, the shardfly said. Looks like you lost a few inches.
Smiling at her humor, Dallion performed a series of spiral attacks directly below.
The ground tore, revealing hundreds of partial golems buried there. The designs seemed ancient—something that must have been constructed during the first days of the Academy.
“You really were planning things out forward, weren’t you?” Dallion said out loud. Even back before Jeremy had openly rebelled he had set things up so nothing he had created would fall in enemy hands. The capital, the Academy, and Moons know what else were nothing but expendable pawns that had served their purpose.
The realization sent chills throughout Dallion’s body. If the emperor was willing to use them here, he’d be willing to destroy every structure of the Academy, people included.
“Damn it!” A hundred instances of Dallion darted straight down. Unsummoning both his blades, he reached forward in an attempt to come in contact with the ground as fast as possible.
AREA AWAKENING
2024.05.13 15:05 MegMcLain I know what I saw…
I’ll start by saying I don’t really believe in ghosts. At best, I’m agnostic, cause I don’t even know what a ghost would look like, so who knows.
When I was 8 (I’m now 40) my mom remarried and we moved to a house next to a cemetery. I could see the closest graves out my bedroom window. I didn’t mind, cause I didn’t believe in ghosts, and it was a beautiful, quiet landscape. One day when I was about 11, I saw an old man in my backyard trimming the brush at the back of our lawn. I adore old men, and just thought it was a neighbor being kind, so I shot him a smile from my bedroom desk where I was doing my homework. He smiled back and waved, and I went back to my work. The next day at school my history teacher (he was from wales, and was my favorite teacher ever, cause he picked up on the fact I had a British sense of humor, so we bonded) asked me to stay after class. He knew I lived next to the cemetery, and handed me a local news article about the groundskeeper having died a week earlier. He assumed I had known the guy, and wanted to offer his condolences. The photo with the obituary was of the man I had seen in my backyard the day before. I have never figured out what the hell had happened. I thought maybe the paper got the date of his death wrong, or maybe the guy had a twin brother who mistook our brush for part of the cemetery while taking over his brother’s job. No clue. But I know what I saw. It was that same man, looking perfectly fine, trimming our brush.
Still no clue what that was.
submitted by MegMcLain to YourGhostStories [link] [comments]
When I was 8 (I’m now 40) my mom remarried and we moved to a house next to a cemetery. I could see the closest graves out my bedroom window. I didn’t mind, cause I didn’t believe in ghosts, and it was a beautiful, quiet landscape. One day when I was about 11, I saw an old man in my backyard trimming the brush at the back of our lawn. I adore old men, and just thought it was a neighbor being kind, so I shot him a smile from my bedroom desk where I was doing my homework. He smiled back and waved, and I went back to my work. The next day at school my history teacher (he was from wales, and was my favorite teacher ever, cause he picked up on the fact I had a British sense of humor, so we bonded) asked me to stay after class. He knew I lived next to the cemetery, and handed me a local news article about the groundskeeper having died a week earlier. He assumed I had known the guy, and wanted to offer his condolences. The photo with the obituary was of the man I had seen in my backyard the day before. I have never figured out what the hell had happened. I thought maybe the paper got the date of his death wrong, or maybe the guy had a twin brother who mistook our brush for part of the cemetery while taking over his brother’s job. No clue. But I know what I saw. It was that same man, looking perfectly fine, trimming our brush.
Still no clue what that was.
2024.05.13 02:53 FreddyF2 Learning About The Persian Court and Coinage During the Achaemenid Period via Professor Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones Book - Cliff Notes and Fun Facts
I've collected Persian coins for 20+ years (Achaemenid, Parthian, Persis, Sasanian), but there aren't a lot of great volumes I've come across that strike that balance of informative and entertaining. Most reference works are dry, provide little historical context, but instead choose to focus on how to identify coins, mint locations, oddities, countermarks, that sort of thing.
Context though, I feel is everything and they never taught any concentrated Persian history at my University, so I missed out big time. Professor Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones put out a book last year I've been reading called Persians: The Age of the Great Kings. What he effectively covers is the Achaemenid Period (think Cyrus, Darius, Cambyses, Xerxes, etc.) but he also discusses at length how day-to-day life looked.
I though to share some pretty interesting insights that I hadn't realized or the relevancy of them hadn't clicked.
Relevant to Coinage
submitted by FreddyF2 to AncientCoins [link] [comments]
Context though, I feel is everything and they never taught any concentrated Persian history at my University, so I missed out big time. Professor Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones put out a book last year I've been reading called Persians: The Age of the Great Kings. What he effectively covers is the Achaemenid Period (think Cyrus, Darius, Cambyses, Xerxes, etc.) but he also discusses at length how day-to-day life looked.
I though to share some pretty interesting insights that I hadn't realized or the relevancy of them hadn't clicked.
Relevant to Coinage
- It really burst my bubble to realize that coinage during the Achaemenid period wasn't intended to replace the barter system. To the contrary, Persians actually preferred to use barter in the areas they traditionally inhabited and populated. They continued doing so long after coinage was introduced. However they did adopt coinage in order to be able to trade with other neighboring civilizations, including the Greeks. Siglos were of exceptionally high silver purity so that they could be trusted by other civilizations as fair exchange for their respective coinage. i.e. When accepting payment in Siglos, you knew they were as pure if not more than an Athenian Owl, so you were okay with receiving payment in them when a Persian bought from you.
- This explains something I've never got the answer to over the years. Why was the Persian central authority so chill with the idea of allowing Satraps, especially far flung ones in the west, to mint their own style of coins with the faces of local rulers and gods on them? It's because they didn't really care about coinage so much as they did wanting to make sure commerce continued to flow smoothly. There was no point in reinforcing Persian rule through changing the local coinage, unless it was to prove a political point. i.e. Sidon's Double Shekel. This also meant most of the transactions concerning coinage were taking place at the fringes of the empire, not necessarily the middle.
- Gold Darics were probably not used to buy things, they were most likely used as ceremonial tokens of tribute. If you're a local ruler and you get a visit from the King and please him, you might be presented with one. They're sort of what $500 and $1,000 bills are now, they're real currency, but they have much more collector and prestige value than to be used at face value. What makes that cool is that someone who handled a double daric or daric, but have been someone noteworthy in society. Makes sense as to why we find them in such great condition all the time. Minimal circulation. I wonder which famous person handled the Daric I own!?
- When Persians arrived in what is modern day Iran, they were wandering nomadic people with no desire to build cities. They moved south into the Iranian plateau in waves of migration, each tribe having its own leader / Khan.
- When they arrived, there wasn't much going on in the area! The Kingdom of Elam was the only real city state that wasn't nomadic in nature. The Persians struck up a really strong bond with the Elamites, trading livestock and goods with them during years of especially devastating crop harvest losses for the Elamites. Given the Persians were nomadic, they moved with the weather and were well versed in how to continue moving around and keeping livestock safe from natural disasters. The capital of Elam's Kingdom was the city of Susa.
- The Medes existed in the area, had their own nomadic tradition and were fierce battle hardened folk. They were especially good with training war hardy horses, making them natural equestrians and with the use of small bows, very effective militarily.
- The Medes were trading partners with the Persians, but mainly their overlords. They left the Persians alone as long as they coughed up the right amount of tribute each year. Things changed though when the Medes looked at Babylon and wanted to conquer it. The Median ruler at the time, went a bit too far - overtaxing his subjects to pay for the war and pushing neighboring states to cough up resources to fund the grand enterprise. This didn't work out well for him, because Cyrus, from a prominent Persian family, decided to challenge the Median King after the Median King's nobles indicated that they wanted no part of this long protracted war with Babylon. It worked.
- Cyrus evidently was the product of a Median member of nobility, his mother, while his father was a Persian Khan. This allowed him to lay claim to the Median throne and so he began his time lording over the Medians with a certain level of acceptance of Kingship.
- Persian children, specifically boys were effectively raised almost exclusively by the women in the community until the age of six at which point they were transferred to their father to learn things that men were expected to do, i.e. military service. You barely if ever see your Dad. Are doted on by adoring women and then all of a sudden, you're learning how to ride a horse. It would have been a real tough transition for a young kid.
- Cambyses, Cyrus' son, unlike everything we are usually told was not a tyrannical leader, nor was he 'mad' like other Greek historical accounts indicate. There is plenty of evidence that he treated Kingship as a sacred duty. Including Egyptian accounts of his being respectful to their Apis Bull, participating in religious ceremonies to honor others and being a shrewd political operator.
- What they don't teach you is that Darius was not a particularly honorable fellow. He was quiver bearer to Cyrus, then spear bearer to Cambyses, but historical accounts point to him not only being from a very ambitious Persian clan family, but he wasn't connected to the Cyrus and Cambyses bloodline at all. Darius appears to more likely than not have poisoned Cambyses, then conspired with other Persian Nobles to murder Cambyses brother once he tried to assume the throne. Darius wasn't a particularly benevolent ruler. He had to deal with and put down a TON of rebellions, given subjects saw him as a usurper and not from the same blood line as Cyrus and Cambyses. He solved that problem through brutal crackdowns and marrying Cyrus and Cambyses wives, among other methods.
- Slavery was very much a thing in the Persian Empire but NOT like the Romans. Slaves existed but were not a majority of the population. They weren't treated well, as most slaves aren't anyway in antiquity, Persians even had breeding programs to multiply slave populations. They did menial labor and helped build monumental structures, but they were effectively prisoners of war that had been captured and were skill less. Skilled workers even of conquered territories usually maintained their independence and were contracted by the empire to build and design things.
- Persians like the Mayans were incredibly organized with respect to logistics and record keeping. The Persepolis Fortification Archive tablets are a trove of 10,000+ tablets that were found at Persepolis and discuss how local rulers put in charge to act on the Kings behalf had power, but they had to report almost everything to the crown. Those tablets consisted of receipts, legal documents for proceedings, letters between individuals, and even bureaucratic infighting communications blaming each other when something went wrong or a messenger wasn't on time. That was relevant because they had the closest thing to the pony express anyone had ever seen. Even Romans and Greeks, who we are taught were the height of sophistication and organization conceded that the extent of organization of Persian messengers, roadways and infrastructure to move information and goods, was insanely efficient and unparalleled.
- Kings didn't change their nomadic habits. The entire royal court moved with the seasons to different parts of the empire that had more favorable climate. What that meant was that 100,000 people were on the move every few months with the King, in a massive moving band of people. There was no such thing as centralized control geographically, the court and King was almost always on the move, everyone came with, wives, children, scribes, animal herders, cooks, slaves, tents (LOTS of tents) and it was all carefully coordinated to make sure it was as efficient as possible.
2024.05.13 00:37 Independent_Pen7176 I am a 29F who is at the end of her rope—A LIFE STORY. PART ONE
This is long and confusing, so I will try my best to keep things chronological and concise. I think I need to tell someone my story, because I hope it will help someone somehow. Maybe it will help me. Maybe it will help a stranger. Maybe it will die in the history of the internet and live on after I am gone. If anything, I have this saved on my computer so maybe if I am struck down with dementia someone can read this to me a la The Notebook (I think that was the plot…I don’t remember). This is assuming I make it to old age and want to remember my personal journey. I don’t know. If you get through this post and want to comment, okay. But if your comment is ‘go tell this to a therapist’, know that your concern is truly appreciated and think of this as me practicing what to say and how to say it.
This is not a “woe is me” story. I am realistic enough to look back and think I had somethings good, but I am also honest enough with myself to know I have seen some crazy shit.
NOTE: My memory of the following has a lot of holes, but I think I have most of the ages/years down, well enough. Hopefully you, the reader, can follow along well enough.
FOR REFERENCE:
I grew up poor, in a sense. We grew up in a rural “city” notorious for violence (drugs, prostitution, murders, etc.). My mom was a young, single parent and was a stripper up until I was 4yo (obviously I did not know that is what she was doing for work; I just knew she wasn’t home some nights and we would stay with my grandmother). I remember living with a constant fear that she would die. I had three siblings (an older sister, an older brother, and a younger brother—the older brother lived with his father most of the time).
Just before I turned four, my mom was arrested and I lived with my grandmother (maternal, obviously) for about four years, along with my older sister and younger brother. To this day it is still unclear why my mom was arrested, but I have 90% of the story. My mom’s older brother killed a man. (There is no disputing this; he called his mom [my grandma] and my mom and they met him after the murder.) Some people in the family said that my mom drove the victim’s car, hid it, and burned it; some people say my mom burned the getaway car my uncle drove. My mom said she refused to testify in court. (About what? I don’t know. No one in my family likes to talk about it.) Regardless, my mom was sentenced to eight years in prison (she would only serve 3 or 4 years), so I, along with my older sister and younger brother, would live with my grandma and step-grandfather (who was ~15 years younger than my grandma). My grandma would not take us to visit our mother until two years into her sentence. (My mom said that my grandma wanted her to confess to the murder because ‘a woman with children would get a lighter sentence’ and that my grandma ‘did not want to lose her only son’. I don’t know if this is true, but my grandmother wasted every last dime trying to get her son out, which would never happen.) My grandma’s house was a dilapidated trailer: there was no AC/heating, there were holes in the floor covered with plywood, and the walls in the shower were covered in duct tape. I was too little to be embarrassed by the squalor we lived in, but when I think back on it now, I understand why I never had friends over. (Our town was small, and my friends’ parents probably wouldn’t feel comfortable sending their children over, understandably.)
Despite everything, I had a happy few years there. I LOVED my grandma and grandpa, and being so young, I eventually forgot about my mom. My grandma read cheap paperbacks all the time, so I got into reading. We didn’t have money for books and at the time my county didn’t even have a bookstore, but I would save the fifty cents I got for snack money everyday and order books from the paper Scholastic magazines I got from school. (I didn’t even know to be embarrassed handing the teacher my order form and paying for $13 of books with a plastic bag of nickels and dimes.) To this day, I think reading saved my life. It gave me a world to escape into.
My grandma had a dark past. She was from a different state and one of five kids. (Two brothers died in a house fire when they were kids, one sister was hit and killed by a car as a teenager, and the other sister was sent to live in a mental institution as a teenager.) My grandma refused to talk about her family, and I had never met them. (All this information would come to light years after her death, and I would eventually meet her “crazy” sister once—I was nine and she came to my grandma’s house and showed me a dead baby bird she had in a coin wallet she kept in her purse, and I believe she is dead now.) My grandma was an alcoholic and homewrecker, by all accounts, and would disappear for months, sometimes years at a time, while her own children were growing up.. She had three children and the father of those children is debatable. My uncle (the one who killed a guy) would rape his sisters (this is confirmed), and when my grandma found out she sent him to a boy’s facility (think juvie). It has been hinted that after this my grandma would pimp out her preteen daughter at bars to older men (this is my aunt—-the middle child—who was pretty distant, understandably, in my younger years).
~~~~~~~~~~~Writing interrupted. My mom just called me to see what I was doing. I lied and said I was working on my book (isn’t this Reddit post a book, though? Where’s the lie?) in a ‘not now’ manner, and she quickly got off the phone. I refuse to tell her happy Mother’s Day. Now let’s get back to the story.
This backstory of my grandma’s was obviously unknown to me as a child. I had seen her drink twice in my years with her. I thought she was fucking Mother Theresa. She took us (her grandkids) to a Pentecostal church faithfully and had a seemingly good relationship with the ‘brothers and sisters’ of the church. I hated church as a kid and am the only one to have never been baptized. My grandma, however, was not Pentecostal. She wore pants, cussed, all that jazz, and she never enforced the religion on us. But we had to go to church, and if I spent the entire sermon reading a Junie B. Jones book, she would not correct me. She asked us if we wanted to be baptized and when I said ‘no’ it was no big deal. (To this day, I am not sure why we went to church. I think she wants a spiritual relationship with God and some type of exposure to the atmosphere for us. But sometimes we would go five times a week and I hated it.)
When I was about 7yo I started to feel ‘embarrassed’ about my home life. I wouldn’t say I was bullied, but no one wanted to play with me. I wasn’t the ‘stinky kid’ and I wasn’t the ‘weird kid’, but I was definitely the ‘smart kid’ and I still think that it alienated me. I had one friend, who I had made in Pre-K, but she even seemed to be gravitating towards the ‘popular crowd’. (Cliques start young, huh?) Luckily, when I was 8yo a new girl came to my school. She had been home-schooled and came from a Pentecostal family but had moved to town and was living with her mom and two brothers while her parents went through a nasty divorce (that would drag out for eight years.) Let’s call her ‘Ruth’. At the time, my only friend started hanging out with Ruth at recess. I was jealous that I was left alone and hate Ruth whole-heartedly. Ruth, as it turned out, was jealous of me and hated me too. Needless to say, after two months of mean-mugging each other we became the best of friends. If reading saved my life, Ruth was this reason I was alive in the first place.
INTERMISSION: ABOUT RUTH
Thinking back on it now, Ruth was the first love of my life. Her father was an extremely wealthy businessman who lived in a big city two hours away from our town (I would only meet him three times). Her mother was a teacher who was renting a house in our town and although there were financial struggles throughout the divorce, Ruth’s mom was solidly middle-class. (I remember going to her house for the first time, complete with a ‘breakfast room’, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a pool, a ‘dining room’ lined with encyclopedias, they had a COMPUTER with INTERNET, she even had a horse!—It was all so fancy for my hick brain.) Ruth could also say words like ‘slut’ and ‘ho’ and ‘freak (in place of FUCK)’, which were cuss words at my house. Her mom would just always say “Ruth MIDDLE-NAME, I rebuke that in the name of Jesus” and Ruth would laugh it off.
Needless to say, Ruth’s house was the tits and I would ride the school bus home with her every Friday afternoon and stay until her mom dropped me off after Sunday morning service. But Ruth definitely lacked a lot of things.
Ruth’s mom was weird. She was an ‘older mom’ and had a nice house that was never clean and she never cooked. Her kids lived off take-out, frozen pizzas, and TV dinners—-which was cool as hell to 8yo me. She was not there much, spending most of her time at Women’s Church Conferences or working. Her mother was a religious-nut. I say that with caution because she is a lovely and important figure in my life, but I would wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and her mother would always be convulsing on the living room floor, speaking in tongues, praying. This was typical behavior. I think her mom let me hang out with her because I, too, ‘grew up Pentecostal’....but we know that’s not really the case, huh? Obviously two 8yo girls don’t sit around and talk about God all day. Ruth believed in her faith, but she NEVER asked if I believed in it or tried to convert me. We were happy and accepting of one another.
Ruth had two older brothers, one who was ~6 years older and another that was ~3 years older. The oldest was mean, and Ruth and him fought like cats and dogs. And I am talking they would draw blood. Ruth’s oldest brother definitely gave off I-am-going-to-be-atheist-to-piss-off-my-mom and brooding-dark-may-grow-up-to-be-a-criminal-vibes. His mom constantly said he was possessed by a demon and needed to turn to God. I remember that, although I was not scared of him, he seemed uncomfortable around me from the beginning. He did not speak with me much and spent most of his time in his room playing video games. He was obsessed with guns and knives and the back of his bedroom door was obliterated from him getting angry and taking it out on the door with his knives. It was strange because his mom kept trophies from his younger years for all the statewide Bible Competitions he won. (He knew the bible better than anyone I have ever met.) It was all a big red flag, looking back. But, for the most part, when I was around he disappeared. He was in high school when I first started coming around and would move out in a couple of years. The other brother, the middle child who I will call ‘David’, was awesome. He spent most of his time building computers in his room, but would smile and say hi to me in the hall when I was over. He had a Mitch Hedberg sense of humor. He wasn’t super attractive, but he was cute and all the girls at church thought so too. (My grandma did not go to their church, but I attended Sunday morning service with Ruth thousands of times and knew their youth group pretty well.) In high school, he would have a lucrative side-hustle fixing people’s computers, iPods, and smartphones and would buy Ruth and I candy and snacks all the time. Remember, we are talking 2002-2010 era, and he had the ‘emo’ hair, skateboarded, and was a nerdy-comedian type who could build computers—he had it going on. He was my first childhood crush, but he definitely saw Ruth and I as adoring and annoying little sisters.
Ruth herself was not very interested when it came to schoolwork. She definitely was not the homeschool-child-prodigy stereotype. But she knew how to play multiple musical instruments and was an insanely talented artist. Over the course of our friendship I developed a love for art and music—she made me into a creative person when I had always been a very analytical person. (Today, I am a fairly skilled artist and I play guitar.) But I had an effect on her too. I was a very clean person and cleaning had always been a coping mechanism for me. (My grandma always said ‘Being poor is no excuse for being dirty’.) In the early days I would go to Ruth’s messy house and I would convince her we should clean her room ‘for fun’. I didn’t like messy places, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I would explain to her that cleaning was something I liked. I got her hooked on cleaning, because we would end up detailing the disgusting kitchen ‘for fun’ every weekend and she started keeping her room in meticulous order, although the rest of her family lived like slobs. (And yes, dear reader, cleaning and joking around with her are some of my favorite memories. I remember detailing the inside of the kitchen fridge with her in vivid memory.) I also got her hooked on reading and interested in schoolwork. Needless to say, she gave me the confidence to be more creative and I taught her how to put a little bit more structure in her artsy-chaotic world. I was feeling true happiness.
~~~~~Writing NOTE: There are some events/details in here which bleed into the next section but seemed best placed here. The next section will pick up when I am 8/9yo and my mom is released from prison.
submitted by Independent_Pen7176 to lifestory [link] [comments]
This is not a “woe is me” story. I am realistic enough to look back and think I had somethings good, but I am also honest enough with myself to know I have seen some crazy shit.
NOTE: My memory of the following has a lot of holes, but I think I have most of the ages/years down, well enough. Hopefully you, the reader, can follow along well enough.
FOR REFERENCE:
- My mom’s children from oldest to youngest: sister #1, brother #1, ME, brother #2 (eight years later would come sister #2 and brother #3)
- My grandma’s children from oldest to youngest: uncle, aunt, MY MOM
- Ruth: my best friend, the youngest of 3 kids (had two older brothers)
I grew up poor, in a sense. We grew up in a rural “city” notorious for violence (drugs, prostitution, murders, etc.). My mom was a young, single parent and was a stripper up until I was 4yo (obviously I did not know that is what she was doing for work; I just knew she wasn’t home some nights and we would stay with my grandmother). I remember living with a constant fear that she would die. I had three siblings (an older sister, an older brother, and a younger brother—the older brother lived with his father most of the time).
Just before I turned four, my mom was arrested and I lived with my grandmother (maternal, obviously) for about four years, along with my older sister and younger brother. To this day it is still unclear why my mom was arrested, but I have 90% of the story. My mom’s older brother killed a man. (There is no disputing this; he called his mom [my grandma] and my mom and they met him after the murder.) Some people in the family said that my mom drove the victim’s car, hid it, and burned it; some people say my mom burned the getaway car my uncle drove. My mom said she refused to testify in court. (About what? I don’t know. No one in my family likes to talk about it.) Regardless, my mom was sentenced to eight years in prison (she would only serve 3 or 4 years), so I, along with my older sister and younger brother, would live with my grandma and step-grandfather (who was ~15 years younger than my grandma). My grandma would not take us to visit our mother until two years into her sentence. (My mom said that my grandma wanted her to confess to the murder because ‘a woman with children would get a lighter sentence’ and that my grandma ‘did not want to lose her only son’. I don’t know if this is true, but my grandmother wasted every last dime trying to get her son out, which would never happen.) My grandma’s house was a dilapidated trailer: there was no AC/heating, there were holes in the floor covered with plywood, and the walls in the shower were covered in duct tape. I was too little to be embarrassed by the squalor we lived in, but when I think back on it now, I understand why I never had friends over. (Our town was small, and my friends’ parents probably wouldn’t feel comfortable sending their children over, understandably.)
Despite everything, I had a happy few years there. I LOVED my grandma and grandpa, and being so young, I eventually forgot about my mom. My grandma read cheap paperbacks all the time, so I got into reading. We didn’t have money for books and at the time my county didn’t even have a bookstore, but I would save the fifty cents I got for snack money everyday and order books from the paper Scholastic magazines I got from school. (I didn’t even know to be embarrassed handing the teacher my order form and paying for $13 of books with a plastic bag of nickels and dimes.) To this day, I think reading saved my life. It gave me a world to escape into.
My grandma had a dark past. She was from a different state and one of five kids. (Two brothers died in a house fire when they were kids, one sister was hit and killed by a car as a teenager, and the other sister was sent to live in a mental institution as a teenager.) My grandma refused to talk about her family, and I had never met them. (All this information would come to light years after her death, and I would eventually meet her “crazy” sister once—I was nine and she came to my grandma’s house and showed me a dead baby bird she had in a coin wallet she kept in her purse, and I believe she is dead now.) My grandma was an alcoholic and homewrecker, by all accounts, and would disappear for months, sometimes years at a time, while her own children were growing up.. She had three children and the father of those children is debatable. My uncle (the one who killed a guy) would rape his sisters (this is confirmed), and when my grandma found out she sent him to a boy’s facility (think juvie). It has been hinted that after this my grandma would pimp out her preteen daughter at bars to older men (this is my aunt—-the middle child—who was pretty distant, understandably, in my younger years).
~~~~~~~~~~~Writing interrupted. My mom just called me to see what I was doing. I lied and said I was working on my book (isn’t this Reddit post a book, though? Where’s the lie?) in a ‘not now’ manner, and she quickly got off the phone. I refuse to tell her happy Mother’s Day. Now let’s get back to the story.
This backstory of my grandma’s was obviously unknown to me as a child. I had seen her drink twice in my years with her. I thought she was fucking Mother Theresa. She took us (her grandkids) to a Pentecostal church faithfully and had a seemingly good relationship with the ‘brothers and sisters’ of the church. I hated church as a kid and am the only one to have never been baptized. My grandma, however, was not Pentecostal. She wore pants, cussed, all that jazz, and she never enforced the religion on us. But we had to go to church, and if I spent the entire sermon reading a Junie B. Jones book, she would not correct me. She asked us if we wanted to be baptized and when I said ‘no’ it was no big deal. (To this day, I am not sure why we went to church. I think she wants a spiritual relationship with God and some type of exposure to the atmosphere for us. But sometimes we would go five times a week and I hated it.)
When I was about 7yo I started to feel ‘embarrassed’ about my home life. I wouldn’t say I was bullied, but no one wanted to play with me. I wasn’t the ‘stinky kid’ and I wasn’t the ‘weird kid’, but I was definitely the ‘smart kid’ and I still think that it alienated me. I had one friend, who I had made in Pre-K, but she even seemed to be gravitating towards the ‘popular crowd’. (Cliques start young, huh?) Luckily, when I was 8yo a new girl came to my school. She had been home-schooled and came from a Pentecostal family but had moved to town and was living with her mom and two brothers while her parents went through a nasty divorce (that would drag out for eight years.) Let’s call her ‘Ruth’. At the time, my only friend started hanging out with Ruth at recess. I was jealous that I was left alone and hate Ruth whole-heartedly. Ruth, as it turned out, was jealous of me and hated me too. Needless to say, after two months of mean-mugging each other we became the best of friends. If reading saved my life, Ruth was this reason I was alive in the first place.
INTERMISSION: ABOUT RUTH
Thinking back on it now, Ruth was the first love of my life. Her father was an extremely wealthy businessman who lived in a big city two hours away from our town (I would only meet him three times). Her mother was a teacher who was renting a house in our town and although there were financial struggles throughout the divorce, Ruth’s mom was solidly middle-class. (I remember going to her house for the first time, complete with a ‘breakfast room’, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a pool, a ‘dining room’ lined with encyclopedias, they had a COMPUTER with INTERNET, she even had a horse!—It was all so fancy for my hick brain.) Ruth could also say words like ‘slut’ and ‘ho’ and ‘freak (in place of FUCK)’, which were cuss words at my house. Her mom would just always say “Ruth MIDDLE-NAME, I rebuke that in the name of Jesus” and Ruth would laugh it off.
Needless to say, Ruth’s house was the tits and I would ride the school bus home with her every Friday afternoon and stay until her mom dropped me off after Sunday morning service. But Ruth definitely lacked a lot of things.
Ruth’s mom was weird. She was an ‘older mom’ and had a nice house that was never clean and she never cooked. Her kids lived off take-out, frozen pizzas, and TV dinners—-which was cool as hell to 8yo me. She was not there much, spending most of her time at Women’s Church Conferences or working. Her mother was a religious-nut. I say that with caution because she is a lovely and important figure in my life, but I would wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and her mother would always be convulsing on the living room floor, speaking in tongues, praying. This was typical behavior. I think her mom let me hang out with her because I, too, ‘grew up Pentecostal’....but we know that’s not really the case, huh? Obviously two 8yo girls don’t sit around and talk about God all day. Ruth believed in her faith, but she NEVER asked if I believed in it or tried to convert me. We were happy and accepting of one another.
Ruth had two older brothers, one who was ~6 years older and another that was ~3 years older. The oldest was mean, and Ruth and him fought like cats and dogs. And I am talking they would draw blood. Ruth’s oldest brother definitely gave off I-am-going-to-be-atheist-to-piss-off-my-mom and brooding-dark-may-grow-up-to-be-a-criminal-vibes. His mom constantly said he was possessed by a demon and needed to turn to God. I remember that, although I was not scared of him, he seemed uncomfortable around me from the beginning. He did not speak with me much and spent most of his time in his room playing video games. He was obsessed with guns and knives and the back of his bedroom door was obliterated from him getting angry and taking it out on the door with his knives. It was strange because his mom kept trophies from his younger years for all the statewide Bible Competitions he won. (He knew the bible better than anyone I have ever met.) It was all a big red flag, looking back. But, for the most part, when I was around he disappeared. He was in high school when I first started coming around and would move out in a couple of years. The other brother, the middle child who I will call ‘David’, was awesome. He spent most of his time building computers in his room, but would smile and say hi to me in the hall when I was over. He had a Mitch Hedberg sense of humor. He wasn’t super attractive, but he was cute and all the girls at church thought so too. (My grandma did not go to their church, but I attended Sunday morning service with Ruth thousands of times and knew their youth group pretty well.) In high school, he would have a lucrative side-hustle fixing people’s computers, iPods, and smartphones and would buy Ruth and I candy and snacks all the time. Remember, we are talking 2002-2010 era, and he had the ‘emo’ hair, skateboarded, and was a nerdy-comedian type who could build computers—he had it going on. He was my first childhood crush, but he definitely saw Ruth and I as adoring and annoying little sisters.
Ruth herself was not very interested when it came to schoolwork. She definitely was not the homeschool-child-prodigy stereotype. But she knew how to play multiple musical instruments and was an insanely talented artist. Over the course of our friendship I developed a love for art and music—she made me into a creative person when I had always been a very analytical person. (Today, I am a fairly skilled artist and I play guitar.) But I had an effect on her too. I was a very clean person and cleaning had always been a coping mechanism for me. (My grandma always said ‘Being poor is no excuse for being dirty’.) In the early days I would go to Ruth’s messy house and I would convince her we should clean her room ‘for fun’. I didn’t like messy places, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I would explain to her that cleaning was something I liked. I got her hooked on cleaning, because we would end up detailing the disgusting kitchen ‘for fun’ every weekend and she started keeping her room in meticulous order, although the rest of her family lived like slobs. (And yes, dear reader, cleaning and joking around with her are some of my favorite memories. I remember detailing the inside of the kitchen fridge with her in vivid memory.) I also got her hooked on reading and interested in schoolwork. Needless to say, she gave me the confidence to be more creative and I taught her how to put a little bit more structure in her artsy-chaotic world. I was feeling true happiness.
~~~~~Writing NOTE: There are some events/details in here which bleed into the next section but seemed best placed here. The next section will pick up when I am 8/9yo and my mom is released from prison.
2024.05.12 20:08 Fun-Plane7612 Mackenzie Season 1 Episode 1 - The Move (My AU)
 | It was a late morning, the sun shining down towards the house of the Border Collies, in Queenstown, New Zealand. Walking towards the car was a 6-year-old Border Collie, named Mackenzie, who was also wearing a backpack that was slightly still zipped open. After Mackenzie walked out of the house, his father, a black and white border collie, was behind him. Turning to Mackenzie as he got to the porch. submitted by Fun-Plane7612 to bluey [link] [comments] “Head to the car Mack, I’ll only be a minute.” Mackenzie’s dad told him. Mackenzie nodded his head. “Okay.” Mackenzie said as he walked to the car. As he walked over he saw his mom, a red merle border collie with a brown and white coat, buckling his younger brother into his car seat. His younger brother was a 4 year old border collie who looked just like him. The same coat color and coat pattern, the same folded ear, and even the same chest fur. The only two differences between the two just so happened to be the color of his younger brother’s legs was the opposite in color scheme, and his younger brother’s tail was all white rather than black and white. “And, Done.” Mackenzie’s mom said upon buckling the last buckle. “We are ready for take off Little Mack.” “Sweet as, Mum!” Little Mack said. His real name was actually Kayden, but most of his family called him Little Mack due to his uncanny resemblance to his older brother. Mackenzie’s mom turned to look at Mackenzie and kneeled down to his height. “Are you ready to go Mackenzie?” She asked him. Mackenzie turned to look at the house next to theirs, and stared for a moment before looking back at his mom. “Can I tell Eli goodbye?” Mackenzie asked. Mackenzie’s mom smiled and patted his head. “Of course you can.” She told him. Mackenzie smiled and walked over to the neighbor’s house, knocking on the door. It took a few seconds before the door opened and on the other side was a young Samoyed/Pomeranian mix around Mackenzie’s age. This was Eli, the next door neighbor and Mackenzie’s best friend. Both of their tails began wagging upon seeing each other. “Mackenzie!” Eli said as he hugged him. Mackenzie smiled and hugged back. They released the hug after a couple of seconds. “Stay here, I got something for you.” Eli turned back into the house and ran out of Mackenzie’s sight, Mackenzie standing at the door and looking around. Eli came back after a few minutes holding a light gray bilby with a light blue belly that had white polka dots, along with a right purple eye and a left blue. “Here, I want you to have this.” Eli said as he gave the bilby to Mackenzie. “You’re giving me Bandido?” Mackenzie asked. Eli nodded. “So Billy’s not lonely.” Eli told him. “Are….are you sure?” Mackenzie asked him. “Yeah. I’m sure. I know you’ll take good care of him.” Eli said with a tail wag. “Besides, there are bilbies in Australia, Billy and Bandido will be around their family.” Mackenzie looked at Bandido before putting him in his backpack, with Billy, a purple stuffed Bilby with a yellow underbelly and a purple butterfly on the belly. Mackenzie zipped up the backpack and placed it back onto his back. “Thank you Eli. I’m gonna miss you.” Mackenzie told him. “I’m gonna miss you too.” Eli said before Mackenzie’s dad walked to the car after closing the door to the house. He then hugged Mackenzie again, his tail wagging slower this time. “Thanks for being my friend.” Mackenzie hugged back once again, knowing this will be the last time they see each other. “Goodbye Eli.” Mackenzie said before letting go. “Goodbye Mackenzie.” Eli said, letting go as well. Mackenzie walked to the car, getting in the back with his brother and his sister, who was a blue merle border collie with the same patterns as her mother, but she had a red merle spot over her right eye. Along with her left ear being folded rather than her right like her brothers. This was Mackenzie’s younger sister, Minnie, the middle child. As Mackenzie got strapped into his car seat, he took one last look at Eli, who stood on the porch waving at him, and Mackenzie waved back as Mackenzie’s dad began to drive off. On the road, Little Mack and Minnie were bombarding their mom and dad with a plethora of questions about Australia, which Mackenzie’s dad did his best to answer in both an honest and humorous way. Mackenzie on the other hand was mostly silent, looking at the window for most of the ride. Mackenzie’s dad took notice from the rear view. After answering another question from Little Mack, Mackenzie’s dad turned his attention to Mackenzie. “Are you okay Mackenzie?” Mackenzie’s dad asked him. Mackenzie was silent for a moment. “I’m gonna miss our old home.” Mackenzie admitted. Mackenzie’s dad gave him a sympathetic look on his face. "I understand, buddy. It's natural to feel that way. But you know, change can bring some pretty amazing adventures too." Mackenzie’s dad told him. “Like in Indiana Bones?” Mackenzie asked. Mackenzie's dad chuckled. "Sure, kinda like Indiana Bones. Except instead of hunting for ancient artifacts, we'll be exploring new places and making new friends." Mackenzie pondered that for a moment, his gaze drifting back to the passing scenery outside. "Do you think we'll find a cool place like our old treehouse?" "Who knows, Mack. Maybe we'll find something even cooler," his dad replied with a smile, glancing at Mackenzie through the rearview mirror. "But wherever we end up, we'll make it our own little adventure." Mackenzie nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in his seat, feeling a bit more hopeful about the journey ahead. “Dad?” Little Mack called. “Yeah mate?” Mackenzie’s dad answered. “What’s Indiana Bones?” Little Mack asked. Mackenzie, Mackenzie’s Dad, and Mackenzie’s Mom all looked at him with varying degrees of shock. “Hunter?” Mackenzie’s mom lightly scolded him. “Sorry Queen, I forgot to show him before I packed the movies.” Mackenzie’s dad, ‘Hunter’ replied. “Mackenzie, mind telling Little Mack about it?” “Okay, so there’s this Malamute named Dr. Henry Walton Bones Jr. But he’s also called Indiana Bones…” As Mackenzie recited Indiana Bones, Queen turned to Hunter. “You know, you could have just had him watch the movies on your phone.” Queen informed him in a whisper. “I could have, but I think he’d be more entertained watching them on the plane.” Hunter replied. Queen smirked. “Smart move.” Queen told him. The car ride to the airport only felt like a couple of minutes for Mackenzie and Little Mack as Mackenzie rattled off what Indiana Bones was all about. On the plane ride from New Zealand to Australia, Hunter gave Little Mack his phone to watch the Indiana Bones Films on. And when they arrived to Australia and began to drive to their new home, Mackenzie and Little Mack were talking about the Indiana Bones movies. Minnie on the other hand was watching the movies as well, not having the chance to due to falling asleep on the plane. “-but I didn’t really like the 5th movie.” Little Mack said. Mackenzie shrugged. “I can’t really remember that movie as good, but I think they were all good.” Mackenzie said. Hunter put the car in park and looked back at Little Mack. “Quick Question, which movie’s your favorite?” Hunter asked Little Mack. “I like the second movie the best.” Little Mack answered. “Ah bugger.” Hunter cursed as he slipped Queen 5 dollars. Hunter unlocked the car and everyone got out, and looked at the new house. While this house looked much bigger than the one they lived in back in New Zealand, not everyone had the same reaction to the house. Little Mack, Minnie and Queen were in awe, Mackenzie on the other hand seemed to look a bit sad while looking at the house. Hunter looked at Mackenzie and saw the look on his face. He felt a pang of guilt hit him before looking at Queen. “Hey hon, mind showing Kayden and Minnie their rooms? Mackenzie and I are about to go on a little adventure.” Hunter told her. Queen nodded, understanding Hunter’s intent, and ushered Little Mack and Minnie towards the house. “Alright, you two, let’s go check out your new rooms!” Queen said cheerfully, leading them inside. Little Mack and Minnie eagerly followed, their tails wagging with excitement as they ran into the house. As they ran inside, Hunter went to the trunk of his car and reached inside to pull out a slouch hat and a notepad. Mackenzie was confused as to what he was doing. “Dad, what are we doing?” Mackenzie asked. “We’re going on an adventure, like in Indiana Bones.” Hunter told him, placing the slouch hat onto Mackenzie’s head. “We’re gonna be exploring the new neighborhood and you’re can draw the map.” Mackenzie’s tail started wagging. “Really?” Mackenzie asked. Hunter kneeled beside him and placed the paper in front of them. “Really. I’ll help you start off kiddo.” Hunter said as he gave him drew an X in the top right corner of the paper. “This will be us. Whenever we come across something you wanna see again, just draw it on the map, sounds easy enough?” Mackenzie nodded enthusiastically, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes. "Yeah, sounds awesome!" Hunter grinned, ruffling Mackenzie's fur. "Great! Let's go explore our new neighborhood and see what treasures we can find." With the slouch hat snugly on Mackenzie's head and the notepad in his paws, the two set off down the sidewalk. The first locations they go to were the neighbors houses. A family of labradors, A single chow chow and her daughter, and a Family of Heelers. Hunter got acquainted with the adults as Mackenzie got acquainted with the kids his age. During the conversation, Mackenzie drew out the houses on the makeshift map, marking dots from his dad’s house. After a couple of moments, Hunter and Mackenzie began to depart, saying goodbye to their new neighbors to explore some more. As they continued their exploration, Mackenzie and Hunter stumbled upon a nearby park. Mackenzie's eyes lit up with excitement at the sight of the playground equipment and open grassy fields. "Dad, can we check out the park?" Mackenzie asked eagerly. "Absolutely!" Hunter replied with a smile. "Remember, mark it on the map so we can find our way back." Mackenzie nodded and quickly added a drawing of the park to their map before they ventured inside. They spent the next hour playing on the swings, racing on the monkey bars, and going down the slide. Mackenzie decided to mark this on the map as well before looking up and seeing some kind of pathway in the trees. Mackenzie tilted his head before looking at his father. “Hey dad, where does this lead to?” Mackenzie asked. Hunter looked down the path and patted Mackenzie on his back. “Not too sure. Wanna check it out?” Hunter said. Mackenzie slightly backed up a bit. His curiosity warring with a hint of apprehension. He glanced up at his dad, who offered an encouraging smile. "It's okay if you're not sure, buddy," Hunter reassured him, kneeling down to his level. "Exploring is all about discovering new things, but it's also important to listen to your instincts. If you're feeling unsure, we can always save it for another day." Mackenzie looked at Hunter for a moment, and then looked at the path before making up his mind. “Okay, lets explore the path. Just stay close to me, okay?” Hunter asked. Mackenzie nodded his head. With Mackenzie's decision made, the two set off down the winding path, Mackenzie keeping close to his dad's side. As they walked, Mackenzie felt a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside him. The path seemed to twist and turn through the dense trees, dappling the ground with patches of sunlight. The rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds filled the air around them. "Dad, do you think we're gonna find anything cool?" Mackenzie asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. “Maybe.” Hunter said with a shrug. “Keep your eyes peeled just in case.” It took a couple of moments of walking before they came across a creek. Mackenzie’s eyes went wide with wonder upon seeing it. “Whoa.” He said. Hunter chuckled as he walked into the creek. “Hey Mackenzie, check this out.” Hunter said. Mackenzie walked into the creek as well and Hunter pointed to the water at their toes, where they could see tadpoles nibbling at their toes. “Whoa….they’re so small.” Mackenzie said as he watched them. Hunter smiled, watching Mackenzie's fascination with the tadpoles. "Yep, those little guys are tadpoles. They'll eventually turn into frogs one day." Mackenzie crouched down by the edge of the creek, his eyes glued to the tiny creatures swimming around in the water. "Do you think we can catch one?" Hunter chuckled. "We can certainly try." They spent the next little while attempting to catch tadpoles with their hands, Mackenzie's laughter echoing through the trees as he chased the elusive creatures. Eventually, they managed to catch one in their cupped hands, and Mackenzie's eyes lit up with triumph. "I caught one, Dad!" he exclaimed, carefully cradling the tadpole in his palms. Hunter grinned proudly. "Great job, buddy! Now, let's release it back into the water so it can grow into a frog." Mackenzie nodded and released the tadpole back into the pond. The tadpole swam off and Mackenzie waved to it. “Bye bye tadpole.” He said, his tail momentarily stopped wagging. Hunter put his arm around Mackenzie's shoulders. "Pretty cool, huh?" he said softly. Mackenzie nodded, a small smile gracing his face. "Yeah, it was." The two of them explored around the creek even more, finding insects and even more animals. As the sun began to lower, Hunter and Mackenzie had exited the creek and were lying down in a field currently looking up at the orange-lit sky. As they looked up at the sky, Mackenzie looked at Hunter with a troubled look on his face. “Dad?” Mackenzie asked. “Yeah?” Hunter asked him. “Did we have to move?” Mackenzie asked. Hunter seemed to froze a bit at the question before letting out a sigh. "It wasn't an easy decision, kiddo. I wasn’t to sure about this decision myself. I mean, you took your first steps in that house, leaving all of that behind was a very big choice." Hunter began, his voice gentle. "But sometimes in life, we have to make changes, even if they're hard." "You see, Mackenzie, change can be scary. It's natural to feel sad or uncertain when we leave behind the familiar," Hunter continued, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. "But sometimes, change brings us new opportunities and adventures we never even dreamed of. It's like exploring a new path in the woods – you never know what wonders you might find." Mackenzie listened intently, his eyes reflecting the colors of the sunset above. He pondered his father's words, mulling over the idea of embracing change despite the discomfort it may bring. "But what about Eli and our old house?" Mackenzie asked softly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. Hunter's heart squeezed at the mention of Mackenzie's best friend and their old home. He lightly sat up, looking up at the sky. "I know it's hard, Mack," he said softly, "but just because we're moving doesn't mean we'll forget the memories we made. We'll always carry them with us, like little treasures in our hearts. And who knows, maybe one day we'll visit Queenstown again and reminisce about all the good times." Mackenzie stood up and walked over to his father and gave him a hug. He didn’t say anything, he just hugged his dad. Hunter wrapped his arms around Mackenzie, holding him close. They stayed like that for a moment, the only sound being the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. "I love you, Mackenzie," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I love you too, Dad." “Remember, no matter where we go, we're in this together, okay?" Hunter told him, patting his back as Mackenzie let go of the hug. As nightfall occurred, it was time for them to head back home. Mackenzie looked at the path that lead to the creek before taking his dad’s hand. “Can we come back to the Creek tomorrow?” Mackenzie asked. Hunter smiled. “I don’t see why not. Might have to be a short trip because of how much we have to unpack.” Hunter said before grabbing Mackenzie’s hand drawn map. “Now lets see how accurate this map is. Hmm…which way is North?” Mackenzie and Hunter began to walk off back to their new home. “I think I’m gonna like it here.” Mackenzie said as they walked. [Flash Forward] The sun was shining brightly downward onto the creek, illuminating the water with a warm golden glow. The gentle ripples of the creek danced under the caress of the sunlight, creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadow on the surface. Tall eucalyptus trees lined the banks, their leaves swaying in the soft breeze, casting dappled patterns of shade onto the water below. Mackenzie, now an adult with long hair on the side of his head combined with a ponytail, was looking at the pond he had explored with his father so many years ago. He stood on the same spot where he had once caught tadpoles and shared heartfelt conversations with his dad. His tail wagged as he crouched down to see how many tadpoles where in it this time, then he heard his mom call out to him. “Mackenzie!” Queen called to him from the waterfall. Mackenzie turned to look at her and smiled. “Yeah mum?” Mackenzie asked. “Hunter and Huntley found a wallaby, wanna come see it?” Queen asked. Mackenzie smiled and started to climb up the waterfall. “Sure thing. Let’s go.” Mackenzie answered as he and Queen started to walk that way. “Dad! Hurry, you’re gonna miss it!” A child’s voice said from a distance. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Mackenzie said with a smile. A/N: Welp, it's official. I've reach the point of no return when it comes to Bluey, and now it's everyone else's problem. Hope you guys like it, if you didn't.....too bad but tell me how to improve. I also hope this is allowed, I read the rules and there's nothing saying it's not allowed, but I didn't see anyone else doing this so, fingers crossed. Also, this is adult Mackenzie, not that he'll make a bunch of appearances: https://preview.redd.it/9wpv8fb9d10d1.png?width=2531&format=png&auto=webp&s=9c07738d002252e1c766757c418b5cc3fe629bce |
2024.05.12 16:02 Val_Royeaux Experience with 27 Shaw and T by 27 Shaw Spas
27 Shaw
Address: 27 Shaw Blvd, San Antonio, PasigOf the two spas mentioned in the title, I first visited 27 Shaw. This was only the second time I visited a spa like this, I availed the Explorer service which was their sensual massage package. Price was 1300, card POS was temporarily unavailable.
The Facility
They give you 2 towels and a bathrobe initially, they come in two sizes, one standard bath towel and another that’s not a lot bigger than a face towel. They gave me 2 of the latter until I requested a larger one. Any additional towels incur a 50 pesos fee to be paid once you hand over your locker key fob in the counter. Better to leave one towel in the locker and use the other before the massage, as it will get wet, very wet. My green-ass self brought both inside and had to request 2 additional towels throughout my time there.I arrived a few hours before my massage to spend more time in the wet room. It was shortly after opening, so there were only single digits of us.
The wet room had a shower room, sauna, steam room, a hot pool, and a water dispenser with a never ending flow of clean cups.
There’s a hot pool, not as hot as the coolest hot pool in Ace Water Spa. It’s towels off, so if you’re shy bring a swim trunk, I’ve seen some do. There’s a section of the pool that’s directly underneath a sun well, so you get to view the sky as you lay down and just relax. People seemed to just chill around and chat in the pool, which was quite wholesome.
You’re advised to take a shower before dipping in the pool. The shower cubicle is quite large, enough to fit 9 people if you’re ever inclined to do so. The divider between cubicles is translucent glass, so if someone leans over with their hands you’ll clearly see the hands. The shampoo and body soap dispenser is unlabeled so you won’t know which is which. I never figured the difference and suspect they’re both body wash. It was here where I first heard signs of action, moaning and clapping in the next shower cubicle.
Besides that, the sauna was decent, decently lit, lovely smell of wood, nothing much to say about it, just remember to pour water on the rocks. Also the wood floor and benches creak a lot.
Then there’s the stram room. The steam room is separated into two sections. Before the actual steam room, there’s a very dimly lit section with 2 curtain-less showers. After that there’s a door that leads to the actual steam room. It’s a dark, foggy L shaped room with one single source of light, which is under a short bench. You will not be able to recognize people’s faces here at all, only their overall silhouettes.\
Pre Massage
Not much happened before my massage just chilling between the facilities. Around half an hour before it a guy gestured to me when we were alone in the steam room. He reached over my dick as he placed my hand on his. He seemed to have just come out of a massage as his skin was oily and his dick already rock hard. A few rubs later he put his hand behind my head which I immediately knew what he wanted. I leaned over and started licking his dick and balls. After a while, he maneuvered me to kneel over as he stood up. His hands manhandling my head like a toy. Before long, he pushed my head in, held it there, and moaned hard. I could feel the hot liquid shooting up my throat, immediately followed by its bitter taste. He slapped my face with it a few times then he says needs to take a shower. We cleaned up, parted ways, and before long I went to my massage.One thing to note about the steam room. It’s quite hot and humid when there’s only a few people inside, and counterintuitively gets cooler with a lot of people. It’s due to the frequent opening and closing of the doors when lots of people are going in and out of it so the steam just gets lost. So, if you’re just into the steam room’s steam, you might want to visit early when there’s only a few people there.
The Massage
The massage area was on the second floor, the stairs situated just before the locker room when entering the place. There’s a powder room and lounge in this floor that I didn’t get to visit, maybe next time. The walls between each massage room don’t go up to the ceiling, so sound can very easily travel between rooms.I stripped down and waited for my therapist, who was a few minutes late. Can’t blame him, they only get at least 10 minutes break between sessions when the spa is fully booked. Eventually he arrived, we exchanged pleasantries, and he lightly explained the procedure he’s going to do. He asked if it was my first time, I think it’s their SOP as my neighboring cubicles were also asked the same question.
The massage itself was terrific. He quickly put pressure on my back, and after that hopped on my back and started dry humping me. Personally not a big fan of dry humps but that’s just me. He proceeded to do some rub my back and legs. I was walking the whole day from window shopping before so I didn’t realize how sore my heels were, which the massage gave me some relief. It was like this for a while until he started pouring oil on my body. LOTS of oil. Which is around the time of the procedure where he’d actually start grabbing my dick. He’d do this interspersedly with some leg or back rubs. Then eventually, he focused on my ass and started to gradually open it up, up until he put in a finger and start fingering me. So the routine now goes: dick rubbing, fingering, and back of leg massage. Sometimes it’s both dick rubbing and fingering. He’d also hop on my back and whisper in my ear: “Masarap ba, ah?” It was so over the top I almost found it humorous, and I just played along. Just before I switched to have my back on the bed, he lifted one of my legs and fingered me again, then did it again a second time on the other leg.
Around the 45 minute mark he had me roll over and switch to lay on my back. It was here where he’d just lift both my legs and both finger me and rub my dick. He’d then let me rub it myself but I told him I wasn’t seeking to ejaculate just yet. So he just gave me a head massage. I guess the massage was supposed to end when the client eventually finishes. We had a nice chat while he was rubbing my head and shoulders. He even recommended a therapist on their new branch if I ever find myself visiting there.
Unlike Infinity Spa which was the first spa I visited, the therapist did not ask for extra service. He only mentioned the tipping box in the reception area. He also gave me a new towel, though I preferred to use my old one since I was covered in oil, I also didn’t wear the bathrobe when leaving the massage room fearing it will also be stained in oil later when I clean up.
Post Massage
The massage ended, and I headed back downstairs. At this point the people inside the spa dramatically increased. I skipped the showers as there was a considerable line waiting for vacant cubicles. So I headed for the steam room to chill. Immediately after opening the door, I hear moaning. I maneuver through the room, lo and behold, 5 guys standing in the corner just having at it. Even more guys are just standing or sitting around them, either just watching or masturbating while they watch. The group soon broke off so I sat on an empty spot. I spotted 3 guys next to me rubbing each other’s junks. It was subtle but the movement was barely visible under the low light, their actions confirmed by their constant moaning and hissing. I just watched them while I rubbed my own.I eventually moved to the sauna, and as soon as I enter a guy just got off another’s crotch and let out a loud woo, then continued to let out sounds of delight as if he just ate the finest meal he's ever had. Again, I just sit on a spot, close my eyes and relax.
Throughout the rest of the evening, I witnessed two full blown threesomes in the steam room with a guy being railed on both holes. Both times a crowd formed around them, some just looking, some masturbating, and a few actually went on to touch the participants, either by rubbing the participants' junks, squeezing or licking their nipples, or outright kissing them; Then there was a guy being fucked standing with their legs up, back against the wall in the steam room shower. The shower was better lit than the steam room, so the bottom made eye contact to the various bystanders watching them, he's stick out his togue to some of us as he moaned loudly; Then there was a guy blowing 3 other guys in the steam room while he kneeled naked on the floor, his toned body perfectly outlined by the sole light of the room.
I even spotted a friend I chat with online having a go with some guys in the showers. He doesn't know what I look like so I didn't attempt to say hello, but his socials activity that night seemed to confirm that it was him that I met. It's his special night out so rather not mention it with him.
There’s plenty other scenes but these were the most memorable.
At some point I got tired, I showered to the best of my abilities, got dressed, paid the towel fees, scanned the therapist’s GCash QR code to tip him, and went off to have dinner.
The overall clientele that day was quite diverse, most seemed to be 20-30, leaning on the higher range. Body types also wildly varied, from twinks to hunks to chubs. I saw all body types get some action that day so perhaps body preferences were equally diverse.
8/10
T by 27 Shaw
Address: 118 Timog Avenue, Diliman, Quezon CItyThe Facility
A nonspecific amount of days later, I found myself having a bunch of time to kill, and near Timog Quezon, the site of their newest spa. So I headed over, only availing their Sage package, which doesn’t have a massage and only has wet room access. I didn’t know specifically how many hours I had to kill so I deferred from getting an 80 minute massage.This spa was visibly bigger than the main spa. The locker room has a dedicated attendants room with all their tools inside. There’s bigger toilets, they’re even bigger than the gigantic shower cubicles, then there’s a dedicated urinal room with no doors; there’s a bigger sauna, bigger steam room, one cold pool and one huge hot pool, and an area called The Labyrinth with stone benches and showers scattered throughout this very dimly if at all lit area. The cold pool had a lovely waterfall like installment, it’s not as strong as the weakest water shower in Ace Water Spa, but it was still nice. The hot pool had sections and corners, and it was very brightly lit. And instead of a water dispenser, they had water fountains with no cup dispensers instead. The showers seemed to be installed incorrectly, as some showers were hot when turned to the right, while some to the left. The water was scalding hot too so it was not a mistake you could easily wave off.
The Experience
Not much happened here in terms of physical action. There were a lot more people here at the same hour compared to my visit to the main spa. Most of them seemed to know each other which was quite a wholesome sight.I had to head back to my phone multiple times due to the personal reason why I didn’t book a massage. I have an iPhone on the Globe network, and the signal in the locker room was abysmal, zero bars sometimes, which made me leave the area and head to the lounge for some stable internet.
Speaking of the lounge, I visited the lounge this time, and they served complementary tea, water, and cookies. It was a large, nicely furnished room on the second floor with a balcony outside that has a stone garden overlooking the street outside. There’s a steel mesh thing installed as the facade of the building so cars downstairs wouldn’t really be able to see clearly inside. Some people just sit and chill inside, while I saw one person who seems to do some work on a laptop in his bathrobes. Gotta respect the hustle.
The new spa is still not technically fully opened, some services are not yet offered and some facilities with those services still sitting idle.
In the end I liked the facilities of T by 27 Shaw better, it felt like it had more thought put into it thanks to learning from the lessons of the main spa, wrong shower installation aside. I’ve heard that the masseurs of T by 27 Shaw all came from the main spa, so I’d expect the same kind of service 27 Shaw has. I’ll try to visit and book a massage next time.
9/10
2024.05.12 15:01 ibid-11962 Murtagh and Murtagh: The book and the character [Post Murtagh Christopher Paolini Q&A Wrap Up #4]
As discussed in the first post, this is my ongoing compilation of the remaining questions Christopher has answered online between August 1st 2023 and April 30th 2024 which I've not already covered in other compilations.
As always, questions are sorted by topic, and each Q&A is annotated with a bracketed source number. Links to every source used and to the other parts of this compilation will be provided in a comment below.
The previous post focused on In-Universe Lore. We will now switch to out-of-universe questions, starting with Murtagh. This installment will cover the essence of Murtagh, both the book and the character. The next post will cover additional Murtagh-related questions.
submitted by ibid-11962 to Eragon [link] [comments]
As always, questions are sorted by topic, and each Q&A is annotated with a bracketed source number. Links to every source used and to the other parts of this compilation will be provided in a comment below.
The previous post focused on In-Universe Lore. We will now switch to out-of-universe questions, starting with Murtagh. This installment will cover the essence of Murtagh, both the book and the character. The next post will cover additional Murtagh-related questions.
Murtagh the Book
Idea for the bookWhat was your biggest inspiration to return to this universe and write Murtagh? Was it always in the works? Yeah, so, boy, it's a little convoluted. Ultimately, you can blame the existence of Murtagh on a couple of things. So, starting in 2017 or so, I was feeling a little frustrated in my life for various reasons. And so I decided that I was going to say yes to every appearance opportunity that came my way, just as a way of getting myself out of the house, living life, traveling, seeing stuff, meeting people, etc. So I said yes to going to a bunch of conventions and then sort of out of nowhere, Barnes and Noble asked if I would be their Author in Residence for 2019. They asked in 2018. And so I said yes. And what that meant was I was going to be traveling to a different B&N bookstore every month for the entire year of 2019. Now shortly after I said yes, my mom actually came to me and she said, "Christopher, you're going to be doing that, that's going to be a lot of work. Sure would be nice if you had something new published for 2019." And at this time, I was deep into revisions on To Sleep in a Sea of Stars, which was a massive, massive book. But I thought that hey, that's a great idea. So I took like a month or two and I wrote and revised what became The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm: Tales from Alagaësia, short stories set in the World of Eragon. The first story in there, The Fork story, was based off a tweet that a fan sent me. And again, I think it was 2016 or 2017. And they said, "Hey, Christopher, can you tell us anything about what Murtagh and Thorn are doing after the end of the Inheritance Cycle?" And it was way too late for me past my bedtime. And I said something like, "Murtagh just enchanted a fork to be more deadly than any sword and won a fight with it, and Thorn isn't very happy with him." And I couldn't stop thinking about that, so that became the basis for the Fork story. And then once I wrote it, I couldn't stop thinking about sort of where that story would lead for Murtagh and the world of Alagaësia. I finished To Sleep in a Sea of Stars and I finished revising Fractal Noise. I actually delivered Fractal Noise to Tor all the way back end of 2021, or fairly in 2021. And then I was like, "Okay, it's time for dragons." And I was looking at writing the long awaited Book Five. Though the more I looked at it, because there's a time jump between Inheritance and Book Five, I realized that I was having to do too much explaining of all the things that had happened leading up to Book Five. It was just gonna be deadly dull. So then I went back to those thoughts I'd had of Murtagh and the Fork story and I was like, "well, wait a minute, what if I wrote a book about Murtagh? I've always wanted to. This might be a good reason and good time and a good opportunity." And so I took it. And that's ultimately how Murtagh came about. Books come about through many different ways. Also, on a very practical side of things, last year was the 20th anniversary of the release of Eragon. And so that was also an extra motivation. I was going to write Murtagh anyway, but it was like, okay, not just going to write it. Let's make sure that it's done in time so it could come out on the 20th anniversary, which of course it did. [34]Coming back
I was looking at Book Five and I was doing the groundwork for it. Then I realized because it's further down the timeline than Murtagh that I was having to do a huge amount of explaining and setting the groundwork for people to understand how we got to the point of where we were in that book. Then I thought well maybe it'd be a good idea to take a step back and tell one of these earlier stories so people understand what's going on. [28]
I was starting to do some plotting for the next book in the World of Eragon, and I realized that there was too much setup needed. There was too much explaining, too much exposition. So I thought, well, what if what if I took a step back and actually told the story that I'm trying to summarize. And I'd already dipped my toes in, and was already thinking along those lines of, "What are the implications of that short story? Does it lead to something larger?" And of course it does. [1]
How long did it take to write Murtagh? Three and a half months. And then another six months of editing. That's mainly because it takes a few weeks every time my editor looks at it, and then it comes back to me, and then it takes another few weeks. It takes time. But the reason I was able to write it so quickly was because I had a very clear outline, which I learned to create over time. If I don't have an outline, writing doesn't go so well. And if I do have it, it's easy and fast. I wrote that outline quickly, which took no more than two weeks. That's because I already had the beginning in my head – because that was the story of The Fork . And I already knew what the ending would be. So if you have that then you have 80%. And then you still have about 20% left to figure out the middle, and that was the hardest part. I refuse to write a book where I don't know the ending. [23]
How much of it was brand new ideas that came to you now, and how much did you pull from old notes, unused ideas, and pulling it all together? Well, it evolved. I've always had ideas for more full-size books set in the world of Eragon, and a book about Murtagh was one of those. I had a couple of general ideas that I wanted to play with, such as Murtagh and Thorn grappling with their past, grappling with other threats and developments in the world. But the specifics of that only really came about starting in, I want to say, 2018, and even a little bit earlier when I originally got the idea of the short story, The Fork in The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm, which was from Murtagh’s point of view– Well, it was about Murtagh, not his point of view. But that served as the inciting incident and the key for the actual events of this book, and then everything in it drew from old notes, and then, also, I had new stuff as well. [6]
You'll see a lot in Murtagh that I'm drawing from what I've already established and then building off the feel of it. [12]
You talked about how act three was something that came to you early on in the process, and you wanted to reach that point. How do you work with your writing process? Do you start with that scene that comes to you first and then work backward? How do you play around with that? Every book is different, but I refuse to write a book unless I have the beginning and the end clearly in mind. And in this case, I already had the beginning because it was retelling the short story, “The Fork,” from Murtagh’s point of view now. That was the inciting incident in some ways. Technically, the inciting incident actually occurred at the end of Inheritance, but for this book, this is the beginning. Then, I knew where I wanted to end, like, last scene, last chapter. I had that right from the very beginning because I knew that would be emotional and affecting and all of that. Then, it was a question of what type of story I was trying to tell and how that would relate to Murtagh’s personal issues. So, my original conception was like an Edgar Rice Burroughs-style adventure into the unknown, and then the more I did on it, I was like, “Well, there's more to it than just simple adventure. A lot more. So, how do I serve that?” So, I work up a pretty detailed outline before I write the first draft, write the first draft, and then I sit back and say, “Okay, how well did I do in accomplishing what I was trying to accomplish and what do I need to change or focus on?” [6]
Why did you choose to write a story about Murtagh? Do you ask your readers which characters resonate with them, or do you make your own plans? I certainly like to know who is popular with my readers. This is how I know that Murtagh has been a real favorite for years. But that doesn't affect what I write. The fact that Murtagh is a favorite did not lead to the book of the same name. That was mainly because Murtagh's journey wasn't complete after Inheritance. [23]
We see the growth of Murtagh and Thorn's relationship in this book. How did you prepare yourself to explore the relationship between them? Before I start a book, I essentially do what I consider my homework. I take a notebook and I start writing by hand and I have a conversation with myself about who the characters are and what their stories are and what their journey is going to be. And I did that with Murtagh and Thorn specifically because it was very important to me that their relationship felt different than Eragon and Saphira's relationship. And I didn't get it perfectly the first draft. I'd say I got about 80% there. And then worked on it some more once I had a better understanding of what their dynamic was, and then I could go back to the beginning and it's like, okay, this is how they interact. Let's really focus on that. And that was just the core. It is Murtagh's story in a lot of ways, but it's also Thorn's. And that just was very, very important. But thinking about their different experiences, of course, was the key to figuring out how they were interacting. [32]
I’m not sure that if asked, I would have ever guessed your next Inheritance Cycle book would be about Murtagh. What inspired you to dig into this particular character as an author? In many ways, the Inheritance Cycle is the story of three (somewhat) brothers. Eragon, his cousin Roran, and Eragon’s half-brother, Murtagh. They’re each equally important to the story. However, since the series is primarily from Eragon’s point-of-view, readers never really got to experience Murtagh’s journey, which I think is a shame. [15]
Murtagh is one of the main characters of the Inheritance Cycle. There's Eragon, there's Arya, there's Roran, there's Nasuada, and there's Murtagh. But we really don't see a whole lot of Murtagh after the first book. He's taken away, he's imprisoned and we only see him appearing essentially as a villain. And I felt that there was a real missed opportunity there, or there was an opportunity to rectify that and show what actually was going on during that time. [34]
It's been so many years. What keeps you in the world of Eragon? I grew up with it. Yeah, but I grew up in Steinhagen. I'm okay with visiting every 10 years. Well, to be fair, it's been 12 years since the last big one came out. Oh, that's a good point. Yeah, that's a good point. But the main thing is I have stories that I want to tell and I'm passionate about those stories. And that's what drew me back to the world. I decided I had a story that I cared about and was passionate about and I wanted to devote the time and energy to make sure that readers got to experience it as well. [2]Evolving Scope and Writing Style
Even though it's been many years since it ended, what was it like for you getting back into that headspace and going back to that world? The world itself was very familiar. I had no difficulty diving right back into it. The biggest difference is that this isn't from Eragon’s point of view, so writing from Murtagh’s point of view introduces some differences to the experience. Which was nice for me and I think it will hopefully be nice for readers, as well. But it's an interesting mixture of intense nostalgia, intense familiarity, and yet a sense of newness, as well. Like if you've ever returned home after a long trip, college or wherever, and everything is super familiar, but maybe seems just a little different. [6]
Do you feel ownership of these characters still? The Inheritance Cycle has been with people for so many years. Do you think they belong to the people now? No they're mine because I can do what I want with them. But they have their own existence in the minds of the readers. I have a personal relationship with the books I read and the characters in those books. I'll just pick a book at random, Dune for example. My emotions and interactions with that book are probably very different than someone else's and different from Frank Herbert's when he wrote it. I know people have very deep emotional connections and experiences with Eragon and Saphira and the other characters, and that's out of my control. It is a wonderful thing at the end of the day that someone loves something that you've created so much. Absolutely. That's the goal, that's the dream, that's what you hope as a creator. But it makes me feel a sense of responsibility writing a new story. I definitely felt this with Murtagh, of wanting to do justice to those feelings that people have toward those characters. [28]
Did you always plan to tell more stories within the world of Eragon? Of course. In fact, I deliberately left a couple of dangling threads in Brisingr and Inheritance specifically to form the basis for future books. I love this world, and I hope to write many more stories in it over the years. Murtagh is the first of these. [8]
Did you always know you were gonna go back? Yes, and in fact, I started laying the groundwork in my third book for future stories, specifically so that later on, it didn't feel like I was pulling stuff out of a hat to extend work in the world. [33]
One of the fun things has been watching your writing go from Eragon: Very clean and it's a quick book about these characters end up on this journey and there's a fight at the end, and there's a really cool dragon. It's very clear what you're trying to do. And I think it was incredibly successful, or we wouldn't be here today. And then by Brisingr, it's a mess, and everybody's everywhere, and the world is this huge, complicated, lovable place with all these people that you adore. But watching the way you've grown from that, and then to take the steps into this very mature handling of Alagaësia in this book, it feels like I've read a career of writing enhancement. And it's been really exceptional. I actually wish I could read the books without being so familiar with them, for that very reason. I kind of want to see how they change over time. And it's interesting you mentioned Brisingr versus this one and even Inheritance, which is I kind of wanted to dial it back with this one. It's much more of a character study. It's much more focused on Murtagh and Thorn. We spend a lot of time alone with them, actually, over the course of the book. And there isn't any one character that's with them through the whole story. Which I think is reflective of Eragon, again, in his first book. And it's still a large book. It's still a 700-page book. And yet, for all of that, it is much more focused. I actually think, now some readers may disagree with me on this, but personally I think a lot more happens in this book than Eragon, and it's not actually that much longer in terms of word count, but it still feels to me like a lot more happens in this book than Eragon. [11]
[Terry Brooks:] I started out writing big books like you, I was writing 700-800 page books in the beginning. But I quickly shifted over when I realized that I could write the same book at half the size, and it would sell for the same amount. That's one thing I couldn't do with Murtagh, because I really needed to match the style of the series. [1]
How has your writing style evolved? I'm a much better writer than I was when I started and I also have more of an understanding of the difficulties of life, which was helpful when writing a character like Murtagh who has encountered a lot of difficulties. Also, I'm much more methodical in how I approach a book. I do a lot of planning and that allows me to write the book quickly and efficiently. [20]
I did not always succeed with the Inheritance Cycle because I learned as I went along, but there's a lot of words that I did not and would not use in the books because they were out of place. In fact, it's funny, I have a friend of mine who's Italian. A fellow author, and she read To Sleep in a Sea of Stars in English, which was the first book of mine she'd read in English. She's also been reading Murtagh in English, and she's having more difficulty with Murtagh than with To Sleep in a Sea of Stars. I was curious because there's a lot of technical terminology in To Sleep in the Sea of Stars and so I asked her about this, and we kind of burrowed down and figured out what the issue was, which is that technical words in English a lot of times tend to be of Latin origin, Latin or Greek. For an Italian reader and speaker, that's easy to understand. Whereas in Murtagh, the vocabulary is much more Germanic and Anglo-Saxon, and as a result, much more difficult for a native speaker of a Romance language. [28]
I really love the spruced up language throughout the book; Murtagh was brought up and educated in the capital, I think the book from his perspective having an excellent use of vocabulary is only fitting. That was the idea. Glad you liked it. [T]
A third of the way through Murtagh and I can’t stand th’ word short’n’ng in dialogue. Don't read Dolores Claiborne, then, lol. [R]
Murtagh the Character
Murtagh's ChildhoodThis series deals a lot with fathers and absent fathers and difficult fathers. And since you wrote the series, you've become a father yourself. And so looking back on that series, how has your fatherhood that you have now obtained changed the way that you look back on the way that you created the father figures of Alagaësia? That's a really interesting question. It didn't really change too much, but it did change one thing in particular. In Murtagh, without getting too spoilery, there's a moment that Murtagh is having a flashback recollection of his own father and his mother. I think you know the scene I'm talking about. And writing that I was really sort of drawing off of what I have seen with my children and how they behave and play and how they sort of view and interact with the adults around them. That helped me. But as far as like Murtagh's feelings toward his father or Eragon's feelings toward his father, those were already established. Those characters are already established. So I wouldn't say that being a father has necessarily changed at a huge amount. Because fortunately, I have a good relationship with my father. And so far, my kids have a good relationship with me, except when they're trying to stay up too late. So it's not reflecting what I have in my life. I'm just trying to follow the logic of who those characters are and what their relationships are. [11]Daddy Energy
This time you also deep dive into Murtagh's relationship with his biological father Morzan, and his true father and mentor Tornac. Being a father yourself now has changed the way you feel about their stories? Strangely enough, no. The only thing that changed is there is a scene I don't want to spoil but I'm sure you will remember. Those who've read the book will know. It's a flashback scene. To a moment when Murtagh was very young himself. And there were some things I've seen in my children and the way they behave that sort of guided how I wrote that scene and how I imagined young Murtagh would have perceived what was happening. But in general, no, the father-son relationship, if anything probably draws more from my experience with my father and myself versus myself with my children. So would you say that Tornac has a little bit of your father? Ehhh... I don't know about that. But I did like writing that relationship. Yeah, Tornac and Murtagh's relationship is very beautiful. And sad as well! Well that is the theme of Murtagh's life. [17]
I think also there's probably something to be said for the fact that you are older now, you're a father now, so how you experience Murtagh as a character is maybe different for you as well. Is that a fair characterization? I think so. I don't think I could have written this book 10 years ago. Not the way I did. [34]
One of the relationships that I feel like you didn't explore as much in the Eragon series but did become a little bit more important here in Murtagh is mothers. What was the process of exploring Selena and getting to bring a scene with her into the series for the first time? It was a lot of fun. It was great having Selena appear. Obviously it's a hazy memory on Murtagh's point point of view, but she sort of looms large over the story as a whole in the book. And rightly so, because he perhaps unfairly blames her for some of his circumstances, and he has to come to terms with that. And there's another character in the book who perhaps is forcing herself into a mothering position during the story and Murtagh has grapple with that as well. [11]
There are so many experiences that Eragon got through because either he was the first rider, and so people were treating him with a kindness that they wouldn't show a normal person, or we got that Eragon will persevere through anything and he just kind of shows up and gets it done. Murtagh experiences so many of the same situations and his approach is to replace like Eragon's perseverance with a kindness that was so unexpected from a character with his history. And so this book shows Murtagh's got like a really kind heart deep at the center of him. And he goes through some really awful stuff. But he keeps that kind heart. And I guess, how did you approach writing the soft interior of this man that you've really put through so much at the end of the day? But maintaining that really kind core that allows him to accomplish what he accomplished? That, again, was something that was a bit iterative. I wrote the book really thinking that the theme was him and Thorn grappling with their status in society? Are they going to remain outcasts, exiles? Are they going to reintegrate? What is their role in the world, and how do they feel about it? And after my editor read it, she said, "Yes, that's there. By the way, did you notice how he acts around children?" I said, "Well, yes?" She said, "Take another look at that." And it tied into so many important things for Murtagh that that really added a whole other layer. There's a certain innocence/naivete to Eragon that can sometimes lead him to be very successful at what he does, but also be a little bit, I don't want to say cruel, he's willing to kill and do things just like Murtagh is, but he's also innocent to a certain degree, at least to start with. And it leads to a different approach and a different outcome. Whereas Murtagh has had such dark experiences in his life, he approaches it very differently. [11]Asking for Help
Was the theme of inheritance in Murtagh intentional? Like with the relationships with the children and imparting either like a gift of a fork or wisdom on to or even a sense of caring on to a younger generation, was that intentional to bring over from the Inheritance Cycle or was that found kind of naturally? It was just what this particular story needed. Murtagh has already grown up. He's not an adolescent. He is a grown man. But this particular transformation that he needs to go through is not complete. And all the stuff with the children and the young people in the story. It's a nice tie-in, that theme of inheritance. But I wasn't aiming for that. [11]
I loved that each and every single one of those little side quests included younger people in a way that made Murtagh so protective of them. He has daddy energy. And the funny thing is, that's not because I'm now a dad. I do want to put that out there. In fact, the funny thing is I didn't intentionally make that a theme in the book. And I very much was focusing on the relationship that he and Thorn have with sort of a larger society. Do they belong, do they not belong? Do they rejoin society, do they not rejoin society? And after I sent the first draft to my editor, she came back to me and she said, "By the way, do you realize?" she pointed out the daddy energy, essentially. She didn't quite use those words, but it was the same thing. And she said, "you have this trend going through, think about it, think about how it relates to his character." And she was absolutely right. Just a few touches extra, really brought a lot to who he is. But I wouldn't say that was because I was a father. It was definitely an outgrowth of who Murtagh is as a character. [32]
[Murtagh's approach to life] actually gets him into deep trouble in this book, because he refuses to accept help when he should have looked for help and stays in a place he shouldn't stay in when he knows he shouldn't stay and thus ends up in deep trouble. [There's a] moment fairly late in the book when he finally thinks that he should have reached out to Eragon, and he knows Eragon would have helped him. And he hates it. He does, but even then, he would accept it. Like, he's in the most dire depths of despair. And at that point, he starts rebuilding and accepting help. Uvek, Alín, he starts actually accepting help. And that's why, by the very end of the book, he actually is willing to participate in society, so to speak, and Thorn as well. [11]Murtagh's Choices and Fate
Why does everyone kick Murtagh's ass throughout the book? Okay, I've seen a couple of people say that online, I'm actually going to take issue with that: he wins all of his fights. Except for when he is sort of tricked at one part of the book. But if you look at it, he really does win all of his fights. But with help Well, with some help here and there. Part of it too is he no longer has the help of Eldunarí that Galbatorix gave him. And so I think even though he knows that, subconsciously he goes into some of these fights thinking that he still has that power behind him and he has to kind of discover that "Oh, crap, I'm still stronger than a normal person and I do have a dragon with me, but I'm not invincible." And it takes him a little while to sort of get that beaten into his head. And I have to say at the beginning he's like too proud to ask for help. But then he evolves. Not just proud, I think resentful also. And that is kind of a large part of what the story is about. Will he and Thorn bend the knee enough of their ego to rejoin society and will society even accept them? [17]
Murtagh’s line of choice is “By my will, I make my way.” and I can see that reflected in your own journey from an outsider’s point of view. Is that something you would relate to? Yeah, I think that’s fair to say that’s a statement I relate to. But Murtagh is also a much more solitary person than I am. He doesn’t have the support structure that I do and so I’ve been very aware throughout my whole life, my whole career, how fortunate I am to have the support that I have had from my friends and family. My editor, my agent, my parents. I wouldn’t be where I am now. Aside from that, yes, I made certain decisions that started the ball rolling. But the fact that I was able to make those decisions and have the support to make those decisions is due to the environment, I would say. [28]Anti-Hero
What is your vision of fate? I go back and forth on that. I think as many of my characters do that it's important to believe that we have some agency in the world. Even if things are predestined, if you feel as if things are predestined, you'll give up. Whether that's predestined or not, I don't know. But I like to believe that I have a sense of control over my life and even if there is a destiny that can't be escaped, we at least have a choice of how to face it. But I don't think that our lives are written in stone or that things can't be improved or changed. If that were the case, humanity would never have bettered its lot over the centuries. And I think that there's a unfortunate thread in modern thinking that kind of says that the situation you're born in and the life circumstances you find yourself is completely out of your control and as a result you cannot rise above that and you should blame those who are supposedly to blame for that situation. And whether or not that's true, I just think it's a very unhelpful way to think about life, because then you feel helpless. You feel like someone else is responsible for your situation and therefore, they're the ones with the power in life. And I always feel that we are the ones in charge of our own thoughts and feelings. The only thing you can control is yourself, ideally at least. And we are the agents of change in our own lives, even in the smallest ways. So that sort of learned helplessness is just a deadly, deadly way of thinking. And it leads people to becoming very angry I think. And that's not good for them or society. Murtagh, of course chose to disregard Umaroth's advice and go where the land is brittle. But even if he puts himself, or even if you put him through so much, he still chose and decides what's the outcome of his ventures. That is the consequence of freedom. You have to let people make stupid decisions. Democracy, freedom, whatever, you have to trust that it's better in the long run for people to have the chance to make stupid decisions. That just because you know better, you shouldn't be the ones telling them ultimately what they can or can't do, as long as it's not harming other people. What do you think will be the most important of lessons Murtagh learned during his sojourn in Nal Gorgoth? I would rather not say. I think that that would be me preaching to the readers. I'll let readers decide what they think the most valuable lesson is from that experience. [19]
Each time Murtagh is confronted with reminders and challenges, his responses to them feel very true to his character. How did you stay true to the decisions that Murtagh would make when confronted with these things? And in what ways, if any, did that inform the arc you wanted him to follow throughout the book? Well, I appreciate that you felt that those choices were true to who Murtagh is. I think when writing a character, at least for me, I create a mental framework for who the person is and how they would react. And then the story, especially if they're the main character, is tailored around that. I tailored the encounters and the choices and what happened specifically to who Murtagh and Thorn are and what their issues are. And that is the story. At least the way I built the story. There is no other story. If I weren't addressing their issues, this story wouldn't even happen. [34]
Could tell us a little bit of what it was like to write Murtagh's point of view, and how that was different from your approach to writing Eragon, especially having stepped outside of the world for so long. He's a lot less open and much more damaged, of course, and a lot angrier and a lot more resentful. And his relationship with Thorn is a lot rockier, a lot pricklier, one might say. But being older myself and having gone through some ups and downs in life, as we all do, writing Murtagh was more interesting as a result. But Murtagh also has a hard time in the book, necessarily so, I would argue, since I wrote it. But that took quite a bit of emotional energy as well, writing that. So really enjoyed it. I would love to write Murtagh again, especially since I think that he is in a much better place by the end of the book, even though he still has a lot to work through, he's taken the first big step in a lot of ways. And that's what this book was about, was him and Thorn taking that step, or deciding to take the step. Or being forced into taking the step really at certain points. Yeah, but it is his choice ultimately, and as it always is. [32]
People have strong opinions on Murtagh across the Internets. We want to know whether or not you would describe Murtagh as an anti-hero or an antagonist Well, he's heading in that direction. I think he was definitely an anti-hero for most of the inheritance cycle, and he's now tipped over into, troubled, but a genuine protagonist by the end of Murtagh. [32]Murtagh and Eragon as Mirrors
Yes, you can call him an anti-hero. Murtagh is an outcast with a complex life history. He has been both friend and enemy to Eragon through circumstances largely beyond his control. And for the first time in this book we see the world through his eyes. [18]
Murtagh's character evolves from antagonist to a kind of complex anti-hero in the new book. What were your motivations behind this evolution? He's not a villain, in the sense that he didn't choose evil for the most part, although he's made some questionable choices at times. So that was interesting to evolve. And I didn't want to push him further down the road of villainy, so to speak, because that just feels obvious and lazy to me. So I wanted to give him and Thorn a chance to find a path to redemption. There's also something to be said about the person who has to do everything because they're being brainwashed. That's the other thing. A lot of it he was forced to do. He still did it, and he had some choices along the way, but for the most part he was coerced, and that has to be taken to taken into account. [34]
One of my favorite things about the book is that Murtagh, kind of like how Angela and Bachel are almost like evil twins, Murtagh goes through some of the same beats that Eragon gets in his book. I'm so glad you noticed, and I didn't even do it on purpose. When I was going through editing I started working up a whole list of things I was like these are mirrored experiences to some of the things that happened with Eragon. I didn't fight it, I actually embraced it. [11]
The problems that Murtagh and Thorn face seem to be mirrored of the problems that Eragon and Saphira had to face. Did you write it that way on purpose, and if so, why? Well, yes and no. Murtagh and Thorn could actually have been in the shoes of Eragon and Saphira. In another time, or if someone had made a different decision, it would have been Murtagh and Thorn who became famous Dragon Riders and Eragon and Saphira would have been cast out. They are very much the same and yet so different. It only makes sense that some of the problems they are now experiencing are the same ones Eragon and Saphira had to overcome. [23]
Murtagh is what Eragon would have been if he hadn't grown up in a loving environment. He has a much more difficult character than Eragon, much more prickly. Although he gets angry easily, he is a good person who hates injustice. Perhaps because he is a victim of it himself. He is much more aware than Eragon about how the world works. [4]
Murtagh and Thorn were once, albeit reluctantly, on the evil side of the force. Are these two characters negative incarnations of Eragon and Saphira? To a degree, but they're also very much their own people, given how different their life experiences have been compared to Eragon and Saphira. And they're aware of that difference. It's something Murtagh reflects on several times throughout the book. However, even if Murtagh and Thorn had been raised in the same circumstances as Eragon and Saphira, I think they would still be very different. Thorn has a much more trenchant sense of humor than Saphira, and even at the best of times, Murtagh would always have a greater tendency toward brooding than Eragon. [22]
I saw a parallel in Murtagh's life, a symmetry with his and that of Eragon. So we know that Eragon was raised as a humble farmer, whereas Murtagh was raised in court. But now Eragon plays a major role in the world, he has all the comfort he needs, he no longer lives in a thrifty environment. Whereas Murtagh is said to travel the world without a roof over his head, at the beginning of the book at least. And I was wondering regarding these circumstances, what does this exchange of places mean to you? I was thinking very carefully about the parallels between Murtagh's experience and Eragon's. And sometimes while I was writing the book, I found parallels emerging that I didn't originally expect. For example, when they leave Gil'ead, Thorn kind of grabs Murtagh and they have an involuntary flight where Murtagh is trying to get Thorn to land and Thorn won't listen to him. That's very similar to when the first time Eragon and Saphira flew together after leaving Palancar Valley right when the Ra'zac showed up. So there are lots of things over the course of the story that have sort of echoes with Eragon's experience. Some of that was intentional, some of that was purely coincidental, but I thought it made for an interesting contrast. [19]
Murtagh definitely has a harder lot in life than Eragon. His father didn't love him and even tried to kill him, leaving a scar. A painful life. And Eragon’s father took a blade to save his own son…. Eragon and Murtagh/Brom and Morzan are opposites in more ways than one. [T]
What was the hardest challenge in writing from the perspective of Murtagh after writing from the perspective of Eragon for so long? Figuring out how his voice differed from Eragon's, and how Thorn differed from Saphira, and their relationship differed from Eragon and Saphira's. And then also I went back and looked at Murtagh's dialogue from Eragon, and boy was I pretentious back then. And I didn't want to write him exactly the way I'd written him in the first book, and balancing that and also figuring out his relationship with Thorn, that was the challenge. [34]
Murtagh is not as easy to get along with as Eragon. He is angry with his situation and resentful. Both he and Thorn have all these different feelings going through them, which makes it interesting for a writer to write about them. [23]
Click here to continue to part 5: More Murtagh Questions
2024.05.12 12:10 LiteratureFluid4233 Is threatening to breakup manipulative?
I 23f am dating 40 M . He is super sweet 90% of the time. I really like him and adore his witty humor, amazing cooking skills , smile and affinity for the same hobbies as me. In fact we bonded over our shared love of the outdoors. Now my issue is he has extreme and concerning anger outbursts. Usually not towards me mostly road rage cursing but recently we had a bad argument thats made me question if maybe he’s taking advantage of my age and trying to groom me into a very abusive relationship. Now , he has gotten mad soooo many times before but it was minor and I kind of gentle talked him into calming down, since I used to nanny I basically calm him down like a angry 3 yr old. Ie. “Okay okay let’s use our words” “You are feeling some big emotions let us talk and figure it out together “. We were talking about a movie which dipped into politics and he got the angriest I’ve ever seen him, he cursed me out, yelled , insulted me with names and only calmed down/apologized after i lost my cool and started cursing and yelling back. This whole thing disturbed me because I am not a yeller , pointing back to the nanny thing I have gotten really good at having patience and communication, the fact he triggered me to the point I yelled very much bothers me and we had a talk after where I told him I don’t tolerate yelling at me and if he ever does that again we will break up and I will leave and he will never see me again. This caused him to agree and promise he won’t (but also I’m not gullible so I took this with a grain of salt tbh). Afterwards he accused me of being manipulative by using breakup to leverage my way and that I could’ve made the request without the ultimatum. Now some back story , he was previously married and his ex wife was very aggressive and hit him (he showed me picture evidence of the bruises and the court proceedings bc i was curious about it) which is why they divorced . I guess I’m wondering if she was his victim and became aggressive after he started pulling the bs or if he’s traumatized by her and now has emotional regulation issues. My logical side is telling me run but my emotions are telling me to help him work through whatever he is going through. I truly don’t think that being truthful saying another incident like that would cause us to breakup is manipulative. I feel I was just being honest and boundary setting. But I am mostly asking because I’m not sure if my age/immaturity/emotions are skewing my view of the situation. Also before everyone says it yes I know the age gap is crazy .
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2024.05.12 07:02 bryan-e-combs "What's it like having three kids?"
Becoming a father is the easily the best thing that's ever happened to me, but it's not always easy. Below is my attempt at trying to normalize the challenges of being a father:
"What's it like having three kids?", or "The Soccer Shitgoblin"
People ask me sometimes what it’s like having three children. Most of the time, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Sometimes, it’s… challenging. Other times, it can be hard to put into words. So here’s a recent example:
This happened to me a couple of days ago. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. As much as my wife and I love our three boys, parenting can be such an utterly relentless job. Having brief periods of respite can work wonders for the soul. My oldest had soccer practice on a Thursday evening. My middle and youngest children expressed interest in coming. I warned them, “It’s going to rain. Are you sure you want to come?”
The two youngest children nodded their head in agreement so vigorously, I’d need to take them to a physical therapist next week. I told my wife I’d be happy to take all the kids so she’d have the tiniest modicum of downtime. Pretty simple, right?
Or so I thought.
As the four of us leave our house, the sky is gray and menacing. It’s not a question of whether or not it’s going to rain, it’s a question of how bad it’s going to be. At least the fields are only a mile or so from my house, so it’s a quick drive. I’m a pretty laid back parent. I really embrace the “Don’t sweat the small stuff” mantra. As I’m parking, the only guidance I give my oldest is to carry the soccer ball through the parking lot. He’s gotten really into soccer lately, so he can barely contain himself to start practicing.
No sooner had he gotten out of the car (actually, it was before he had even gotten out), he starts bouncing the ball between his hands and loses control. It rolls in front of the largest pick up truck ever manufactured. The driver slams on his brakes, with a quite unnecessary flair for drama, and shoots me the nastiest stinkeye, as if my “lack of supervision” (despite my best efforts) is the moral equivalent of me having just murdered his mother.
I contritely wave my hand and scoop up the ball. This epitome of human compassion lays on the horn and flashes me a single-finger salute. My six year old asks me what the gesture means, and I mumble something incomprehensible as we cross the street. Never mind the Herculean effort of getting three children, the twenty five pound diaper bag full of water cups, snacks, books, and other forms of entertainment, and three lawn chairs out of the car, without having any of the children get run over by a car.
We get to the sidelines, and my eight year old joins his team on the field. As I’m setting up the chairs, my two year old and six year old get into a kerfuffle over whether Bluey is a boy or a girl. (She’s a girl). I give them the opportunity to gain experience in conflict resolution while I pull out a coloring book for one and a sticker book for the other.
About eight seconds after we sit down, it starts to drizzle. No, drizzle is too strong of a word. It is a light sprinkle. You would get more wet crossing the street in a thick fog. “Dad,” says my six year old. “It’s raining.”
“I know, bud. I told you it was going to rain.”
“No, you didn’t.”
I sigh. “It’s pretty light. Let’s just keep playing with the books, and if it gets much worse, we can take refuge in the car.”
“Dad,” said the youngest. “Wnasdlkjasdioasjdosadnsklj.” At least, I think that’s what he said. He has a speech delay, so it was either that, or “Wet. It’s raining, and I’m getting wet.”
“I know, sweetie. It’s just water, you’ll be okay.” Then, something magical happened. My two youngest children joined forces, combining their hatred of a light drizzle into a force of nature that was completely unstoppable.
My protests of “Do you guys remember when I told you it was going to rain, and you wanted to come anyway?” were met with a profound indifference that can only be rivaled by that indescribable feeling of apathy an exhausted father meets at the end of a day that compels him to say, “Fuck it,” and skip brushing his children’s yet again..
The rain does not abate, but my boys get distracted by a pair of airplanes flying overhead. C'est la vie.
For awhile, practice actually goes fairly well. Small and Middle behave themselves, have fun with their books, and I get to be engaged and watch my oldest work on passing and shooting.
With about ten minutes left in practice, my six year old taps me on the shoulder with the cutest smile, says, “Dad, I have to go poop.”
“Can you hold it? We’ll be home in 15 minutes.” His answer is immediately apparent with his body, which exhibits a unique amalgamation of the pathognomonic “potty dance” of which all parents are well-versed combined with a writhing ballet reminiscent of an exorcism.
No, he can’t hold it.
Communication with my eight year old is precluded by his presence on the far corner of the soccer field. I scoop up the two year old and jog, hand in hand, with my six year old, to the port a potty. The six year old waddles like a duck on the precipice of defecation, which is not too far from the truth.
I don’t believe in miracles, but making it to the port a potty in time was nearly a road to Damascus moment for me. My relief was short-lived, as entering that forlorn cave was like stumbling upon a crime scene. A ripe feculent aroma assaulted my nose before I had even stepped inside. Flies were buzzing through the air, trumpeting a warning sign: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
By some stroke of luck, the toilet seat happened to be clean. To his credit, my six year old ripped his pants down and hopped up to the plate. Willing myself to be impervious to the abject horror of my surroundings, I focused on stopping the two-year old from running his finger through a strip of something on the bottom of the porta potty that I can only hope was mud.
I glanced at my watch. Practice would be over in six minutes. We had to hurry - I refused to leave my eight year old on the field at the end of practice without a parent at his side.
With four minutes to spare, my son looked up at me and said, “Dad, I’m done.” Victory!
Or was it?
I reached under the plastic toilet paper holder and found, lo and behold, an empty cylinder. Fine. It’s not ideal, but I can scoop up his pants and we can get cleaned up at home ten minutes from now.
But as he stands up and turns his back to me for the customary ass check, I am greeted by a monster so horrifying, Tolkien’s balrog would flee in terror. The fierce brown demon smote me to my core, threatening eternal damnation of my very soul. It was a foul material whose consistency was a mixture of peanut butter and steel. No, I couldn’t just leave it there until we got home. I love my children, and I could not do that to them.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Lock me out, and don’t open the door until you hear my voice again.”
I scramble to my car with the two year old. There’s a box of tissues in the glovebox. I suffer a brief moment of guilt as I ask myself if it’s acceptable for me to toss a few tissues into the porta potty. But then the image of my son’s shitgoblin screeches to the forefront of my mind, and I snatch the box of tissues.
As the two year old and I navigate the parking lot, I check my watch. Three minutes until practice is over. I can’t be late getting back to the field. Perhaps it’s my own unresolved trauma from objectively minor incidents from 30 years ago, but I won’t subject that same fate to my son - to a child, being left behind is terrifying.
Once across the parking lot, I’m scampering through the grass with my two year old. The rain has picked up some, and the ground has turned into an ice rink. Not in temperature, mind you - just in regards to the complete absence of any traction. In my haste, the ground betrays me. I slip in the mud, and I’m tossed to the ground, where I figuratively eat shit. Given the scene that awaits me in the porta potty, I’m grateful that it’s only figurative shit involved at this point.
I suffer no serious injuries from my slide, but my two year old gets so scared, he promptly initiates a reenactment of the shower murder scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. At least 40% of the people there probably think I’m kidnapping him.
We get to the porta potty, and I knock on the door. “Hey, bud. It’s Dad. Can you let me in?” I ask with a knock.
“Dad who?” asks my six year old.
God dammit.
“Please let me in. We need to hurry up - your brother’s almost done with practice.”
“But he’s two!” says Medium. “Two year olds can play soccer?” Ah, the classic switcheroo. In any other circumstance, I’d be proud of his sense of humor. But not now.
“Hilarious. Please let me in - we really need to go.”
He unlocks the door, and I pounce in.
In my absence, the shitgoblin has started to make a break for it, heading straight to the floor. Of course, this means the path he took was down my son’s leg. I pull out a tissue and start wiping. Somehow, despite the poop being runny enough to drip down my son’s leg, wiping it is like trying to make a sculpture out of stone with a Kleenex.
Hope nearly abandons me, but I persevere. “Wiping” is not an adequate word to describe my mortal combat with the shitgoblin. It’s more like I’m a lion, feinting first left - then right - scratching at his throat, using the tissues as feeble armor for my fingernails. The armor rips and tears, and the shitgoblin begins to devour my hand.
The absurdity of the situation is not lost on me. I want to throw in the towel on fatherhood, but I refuse. I remind myself to not sweat the small stuff, so I decide to make light of the situation - mainly because, if I don’t laugh, I’m going to start crying soon.
About a week before this happened, we went to the zoo and saw an orangutan hurl his poop at us. The boys thought it was hilarious, of course. So as I’m chucking shreds of shitgoblin-covered tissues into the porta potty basin, I start making sounds like I’m a monkey. Not subtle, subdued sounds, but loud, over-the-top, ridiculous sounds. If someone walked by the porta potty at that time, I’m certain they would have thought that a wild monkey had found his way in.
My two year old starts laughing. It’s an adorable little laugh, and I can not resist its infectious nature, though I try. At first, I smile. My smile spreads ear to ear, and I start laughing. It really brightens my mood, and the stress of my present predicament melts away.
As we’re just about finished cleaning up, the laughter spreads to my six year old. He is typically a quiet, reserved introvert, but when he has feelings, they’re big feelings, and this time is no exception. His chuckle starts at the tip of his lips, dives down into his throat, and erupts into a fit of belly laughter.
As he guffaws, a splurt of shitgoblin viscera explodes from my son’s butthole, showering most of my body with the vile substance.
At that moment, there is a knock at the porta potty door. I pride myself on being the master of my emotions, but this situation is beyond the pale. “Occupied!” I scream, like a rabid racoon.
“Dad?” asks my eight year old. His voice is small and frightened. My heart sinks. I feel like I’ve failed as a father. “Are you in there?”
I glance at my watch. Practice ended four minutes ago.
Fuck.
“Yeah, sweetie. I’m sorry - we’ve got a bit of a, uh, situation in here. We’ll be right out.”
My answer seems to satisfy him, and I cross my fingers that I haven’t further perpetuated the intergenerational trauma of the abandoned children of suburbia.
I do my best to salvage my middle son’s dignity, but the cause is forlorn. By this point, I am completely disgusting. I feel queasy in my own skin. I tentatively depress the nozzle for the hand sanitizer and am pleasantly surprised that it’s not empty. Unfortunately, my hands work faster than my brain, and before I know it, I’ve spread the mixture of shitgoblin-Purell all over myself.
Finally, I say, “Fuck it.” Out loud. I assemble the crew, and we high tail it to the car, a line of four people holding hands to stave off the dangers of traffic. When we get home, we’re all just going to hop into the shower.
Two of the boys need help getting buckled into their car seats, and as the shitgoblin leaps from my fingers to their seatbelts, an apathy more profound than any I’ve ever felt overwhelms me. I simply don’t care. If we can just get home, I don’t care. I can clean out the car tomorrow.
The drive home is uneventful. As we burst into the house, I ask the two oldest to run upstairs and hop in the shower. My beautiful wife, glass of Cabernet in hand, smiles.
“Thank you so much for taking them. I didn’t do the dishes - I’ll take care of them tomorrow. I just… needed a break.” A tiny part of me wants to resent her, but the part of me that loves her with all my being and wouldn’t wish my hour of hell on my worst enemy is grateful that I spared her from this fate.
“Don’t worry about it - I’m glad you got at least a small break.”
“So - how did it go?”
I respond in the only way I can - by cackling maniacally. I laugh long and hard, until my face and chest and ribs hurt.
“Mama,” says the two year old. “Fuck it.”
THE END
submitted by bryan-e-combs to daddit [link] [comments]
People ask me sometimes what it’s like having three children. Most of the time, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Sometimes, it’s… challenging. Other times, it can be hard to put into words. So here’s a recent example:
This happened to me a couple of days ago. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. As much as my wife and I love our three boys, parenting can be such an utterly relentless job. Having brief periods of respite can work wonders for the soul. My oldest had soccer practice on a Thursday evening. My middle and youngest children expressed interest in coming. I warned them, “It’s going to rain. Are you sure you want to come?”
The two youngest children nodded their head in agreement so vigorously, I’d need to take them to a physical therapist next week. I told my wife I’d be happy to take all the kids so she’d have the tiniest modicum of downtime. Pretty simple, right?
Or so I thought.
As the four of us leave our house, the sky is gray and menacing. It’s not a question of whether or not it’s going to rain, it’s a question of how bad it’s going to be. At least the fields are only a mile or so from my house, so it’s a quick drive. I’m a pretty laid back parent. I really embrace the “Don’t sweat the small stuff” mantra. As I’m parking, the only guidance I give my oldest is to carry the soccer ball through the parking lot. He’s gotten really into soccer lately, so he can barely contain himself to start practicing.
No sooner had he gotten out of the car (actually, it was before he had even gotten out), he starts bouncing the ball between his hands and loses control. It rolls in front of the largest pick up truck ever manufactured. The driver slams on his brakes, with a quite unnecessary flair for drama, and shoots me the nastiest stinkeye, as if my “lack of supervision” (despite my best efforts) is the moral equivalent of me having just murdered his mother.
I contritely wave my hand and scoop up the ball. This epitome of human compassion lays on the horn and flashes me a single-finger salute. My six year old asks me what the gesture means, and I mumble something incomprehensible as we cross the street. Never mind the Herculean effort of getting three children, the twenty five pound diaper bag full of water cups, snacks, books, and other forms of entertainment, and three lawn chairs out of the car, without having any of the children get run over by a car.
We get to the sidelines, and my eight year old joins his team on the field. As I’m setting up the chairs, my two year old and six year old get into a kerfuffle over whether Bluey is a boy or a girl. (She’s a girl). I give them the opportunity to gain experience in conflict resolution while I pull out a coloring book for one and a sticker book for the other.
About eight seconds after we sit down, it starts to drizzle. No, drizzle is too strong of a word. It is a light sprinkle. You would get more wet crossing the street in a thick fog. “Dad,” says my six year old. “It’s raining.”
“I know, bud. I told you it was going to rain.”
“No, you didn’t.”
I sigh. “It’s pretty light. Let’s just keep playing with the books, and if it gets much worse, we can take refuge in the car.”
“Dad,” said the youngest. “Wnasdlkjasdioasjdosadnsklj.” At least, I think that’s what he said. He has a speech delay, so it was either that, or “Wet. It’s raining, and I’m getting wet.”
“I know, sweetie. It’s just water, you’ll be okay.” Then, something magical happened. My two youngest children joined forces, combining their hatred of a light drizzle into a force of nature that was completely unstoppable.
My protests of “Do you guys remember when I told you it was going to rain, and you wanted to come anyway?” were met with a profound indifference that can only be rivaled by that indescribable feeling of apathy an exhausted father meets at the end of a day that compels him to say, “Fuck it,” and skip brushing his children’s yet again..
The rain does not abate, but my boys get distracted by a pair of airplanes flying overhead. C'est la vie.
For awhile, practice actually goes fairly well. Small and Middle behave themselves, have fun with their books, and I get to be engaged and watch my oldest work on passing and shooting.
With about ten minutes left in practice, my six year old taps me on the shoulder with the cutest smile, says, “Dad, I have to go poop.”
“Can you hold it? We’ll be home in 15 minutes.” His answer is immediately apparent with his body, which exhibits a unique amalgamation of the pathognomonic “potty dance” of which all parents are well-versed combined with a writhing ballet reminiscent of an exorcism.
No, he can’t hold it.
Communication with my eight year old is precluded by his presence on the far corner of the soccer field. I scoop up the two year old and jog, hand in hand, with my six year old, to the port a potty. The six year old waddles like a duck on the precipice of defecation, which is not too far from the truth.
I don’t believe in miracles, but making it to the port a potty in time was nearly a road to Damascus moment for me. My relief was short-lived, as entering that forlorn cave was like stumbling upon a crime scene. A ripe feculent aroma assaulted my nose before I had even stepped inside. Flies were buzzing through the air, trumpeting a warning sign: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
By some stroke of luck, the toilet seat happened to be clean. To his credit, my six year old ripped his pants down and hopped up to the plate. Willing myself to be impervious to the abject horror of my surroundings, I focused on stopping the two-year old from running his finger through a strip of something on the bottom of the porta potty that I can only hope was mud.
I glanced at my watch. Practice would be over in six minutes. We had to hurry - I refused to leave my eight year old on the field at the end of practice without a parent at his side.
With four minutes to spare, my son looked up at me and said, “Dad, I’m done.” Victory!
Or was it?
I reached under the plastic toilet paper holder and found, lo and behold, an empty cylinder. Fine. It’s not ideal, but I can scoop up his pants and we can get cleaned up at home ten minutes from now.
But as he stands up and turns his back to me for the customary ass check, I am greeted by a monster so horrifying, Tolkien’s balrog would flee in terror. The fierce brown demon smote me to my core, threatening eternal damnation of my very soul. It was a foul material whose consistency was a mixture of peanut butter and steel. No, I couldn’t just leave it there until we got home. I love my children, and I could not do that to them.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Lock me out, and don’t open the door until you hear my voice again.”
I scramble to my car with the two year old. There’s a box of tissues in the glovebox. I suffer a brief moment of guilt as I ask myself if it’s acceptable for me to toss a few tissues into the porta potty. But then the image of my son’s shitgoblin screeches to the forefront of my mind, and I snatch the box of tissues.
As the two year old and I navigate the parking lot, I check my watch. Three minutes until practice is over. I can’t be late getting back to the field. Perhaps it’s my own unresolved trauma from objectively minor incidents from 30 years ago, but I won’t subject that same fate to my son - to a child, being left behind is terrifying.
Once across the parking lot, I’m scampering through the grass with my two year old. The rain has picked up some, and the ground has turned into an ice rink. Not in temperature, mind you - just in regards to the complete absence of any traction. In my haste, the ground betrays me. I slip in the mud, and I’m tossed to the ground, where I figuratively eat shit. Given the scene that awaits me in the porta potty, I’m grateful that it’s only figurative shit involved at this point.
I suffer no serious injuries from my slide, but my two year old gets so scared, he promptly initiates a reenactment of the shower murder scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. At least 40% of the people there probably think I’m kidnapping him.
We get to the porta potty, and I knock on the door. “Hey, bud. It’s Dad. Can you let me in?” I ask with a knock.
“Dad who?” asks my six year old.
God dammit.
“Please let me in. We need to hurry up - your brother’s almost done with practice.”
“But he’s two!” says Medium. “Two year olds can play soccer?” Ah, the classic switcheroo. In any other circumstance, I’d be proud of his sense of humor. But not now.
“Hilarious. Please let me in - we really need to go.”
He unlocks the door, and I pounce in.
In my absence, the shitgoblin has started to make a break for it, heading straight to the floor. Of course, this means the path he took was down my son’s leg. I pull out a tissue and start wiping. Somehow, despite the poop being runny enough to drip down my son’s leg, wiping it is like trying to make a sculpture out of stone with a Kleenex.
Hope nearly abandons me, but I persevere. “Wiping” is not an adequate word to describe my mortal combat with the shitgoblin. It’s more like I’m a lion, feinting first left - then right - scratching at his throat, using the tissues as feeble armor for my fingernails. The armor rips and tears, and the shitgoblin begins to devour my hand.
The absurdity of the situation is not lost on me. I want to throw in the towel on fatherhood, but I refuse. I remind myself to not sweat the small stuff, so I decide to make light of the situation - mainly because, if I don’t laugh, I’m going to start crying soon.
About a week before this happened, we went to the zoo and saw an orangutan hurl his poop at us. The boys thought it was hilarious, of course. So as I’m chucking shreds of shitgoblin-covered tissues into the porta potty basin, I start making sounds like I’m a monkey. Not subtle, subdued sounds, but loud, over-the-top, ridiculous sounds. If someone walked by the porta potty at that time, I’m certain they would have thought that a wild monkey had found his way in.
My two year old starts laughing. It’s an adorable little laugh, and I can not resist its infectious nature, though I try. At first, I smile. My smile spreads ear to ear, and I start laughing. It really brightens my mood, and the stress of my present predicament melts away.
As we’re just about finished cleaning up, the laughter spreads to my six year old. He is typically a quiet, reserved introvert, but when he has feelings, they’re big feelings, and this time is no exception. His chuckle starts at the tip of his lips, dives down into his throat, and erupts into a fit of belly laughter.
As he guffaws, a splurt of shitgoblin viscera explodes from my son’s butthole, showering most of my body with the vile substance.
At that moment, there is a knock at the porta potty door. I pride myself on being the master of my emotions, but this situation is beyond the pale. “Occupied!” I scream, like a rabid racoon.
“Dad?” asks my eight year old. His voice is small and frightened. My heart sinks. I feel like I’ve failed as a father. “Are you in there?”
I glance at my watch. Practice ended four minutes ago.
Fuck.
“Yeah, sweetie. I’m sorry - we’ve got a bit of a, uh, situation in here. We’ll be right out.”
My answer seems to satisfy him, and I cross my fingers that I haven’t further perpetuated the intergenerational trauma of the abandoned children of suburbia.
I do my best to salvage my middle son’s dignity, but the cause is forlorn. By this point, I am completely disgusting. I feel queasy in my own skin. I tentatively depress the nozzle for the hand sanitizer and am pleasantly surprised that it’s not empty. Unfortunately, my hands work faster than my brain, and before I know it, I’ve spread the mixture of shitgoblin-Purell all over myself.
Finally, I say, “Fuck it.” Out loud. I assemble the crew, and we high tail it to the car, a line of four people holding hands to stave off the dangers of traffic. When we get home, we’re all just going to hop into the shower.
Two of the boys need help getting buckled into their car seats, and as the shitgoblin leaps from my fingers to their seatbelts, an apathy more profound than any I’ve ever felt overwhelms me. I simply don’t care. If we can just get home, I don’t care. I can clean out the car tomorrow.
The drive home is uneventful. As we burst into the house, I ask the two oldest to run upstairs and hop in the shower. My beautiful wife, glass of Cabernet in hand, smiles.
“Thank you so much for taking them. I didn’t do the dishes - I’ll take care of them tomorrow. I just… needed a break.” A tiny part of me wants to resent her, but the part of me that loves her with all my being and wouldn’t wish my hour of hell on my worst enemy is grateful that I spared her from this fate.
“Don’t worry about it - I’m glad you got at least a small break.”
“So - how did it go?”
I respond in the only way I can - by cackling maniacally. I laugh long and hard, until my face and chest and ribs hurt.
“Mama,” says the two year old. “Fuck it.”
THE END
2024.05.11 21:13 SanderSo47 Directors at the Box Office: Wes Craven
 | https://preview.redd.it/5jhcjegtjuzc1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=71a26f361e87730152e07e12f1bc76322db0b023 submitted by SanderSo47 to boxoffice [link] [comments] Here's a new edition of "Directors at the Box Office", which seeks to explore the directors' trajectory at the box office and analyze their hits and bombs. I already talked about a few, and as I promised, it's Wes Craven's turn. Craven earned a master's degree in philosophy and writing from Johns Hopkins University. He subsequently bought a 16mm film camera and began making short movies. His friend Steve Chapin informed him of a messenger position at a New York City film production co, where his brother, future folk-rock star Harry Chapin worked. He started in the industry as a sound editor, before transitioning as a porn director. He said he made "many hardcore X-rated films" under pseudonyms. And then he transitioned into directing for the big screen. From a box office perspective, how reliable was he to deliver a box office hit? That's the point of this post. To analyze his career. It should be noted that as he started his career in the 1970s, some of the domestic grosses here will be adjusted by inflation. The table with his highest grossing films, however, will be left in its unadjusted form, as the worldwide grosses are more difficult to adjust.The Last House on the Left (1972)"Mari, seventeen, is dying. Even for her, the worst is yet to come."His directorial debut. The film stars Sandra Peabody, Lucy Grantham, David Hess, Fred J. Lincoln, Jeramie Rain, and Marc Sheffler. The plot follows Mari Collingwood, a teenager who is abducted, raped, and tortured by a family of violent fugitives led by Krug Stillo on her seventeenth birthday. When her parents discover what happened to her, they seek vengeance against the family, who have taken shelter at their home. Craven, who had no money at the time, was put on the job of synchronizing dailies for Sean S. Cunningham's Together. They became friends, and Hallmark Releasing gave them $90,000 to make another film. Craven considered a hardcore film, but decided to tone it down a bit. The idea for this film came from Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring, and Craven wanted to make a film in which the violence would be shown in detail onscreen, as he felt that many popular films of the era, such as Westerns, glamorized violence and the "vigilante hero", and gave the public a misleading representation of death in the wake of the Vietnam War. The film attracted negative media attention for its heavy graphic content, and there were calls for some theaters to drop the film. But you know, bad buzz is still buzz and that translated to a pretty good run in theaters, earning up to $3 million in its initial run. Even to this day, the film is polarizing due to its violence and themes. But Craven just made his name well known.
The Hills Have Eyes (1977)"A nice American family. They didn't want to kill. But they didn't want to die."His second film. The film stars Susan Lanier, Michael Berryman and Dee Wallace. The film follows the Carters, a suburban family targeted by a family of cannibal savages after becoming stranded in the Nevada desert. Craven wanted to make a non-horror, but he found that his investors only wanted films with graphic content. At the New York Public Library, Craven checked the library's forensics department, and learned of the legend of Sawney Bean - the alleged head of a 48-person Scottish clan responsible for the murder and cannibalization of more than one thousand people. He drew influences from this, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and The Grapes of Wrath. Craven also had to cut a lot of scenes to avoid getting an X rating. The film once again drew negative attention for its violence. But it made over $25 million at the box office, which was an even bigger success than House. It subsequently earned a cult following.
Deadly Blessing (1981)"Pray you're not blessed."His third film. It stars Ernest Borgnine, Maren Jensen, Susan Buckner, and Sharon Stone, and tells the story of a strange figure committing murder in a contemporary community that is not far from another community that believes in ancient evil and curses. It received negative reviews, but it was another box office success for Craven.
Swamp Thing (1982)"Science transformed him into a monster. Love changed him even more!"His fourth film. Based on the DC Comics character created by Len Wein and Bernie Wrightson, it stars Louis Jourdan and Adrienne Barbeau. It tells the story of scientist Alec Holland who is transformed into the monster known as Swamp Thing through laboratory sabotage orchestrated by the evil Anton Arcane. Later, he helps a woman named Alice Cable and battles the man responsible for it all, the ruthless Arcane. The film made $2.5 million domestically, despite mixed reviews.
A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)"If Nancy doesn't wake up screaming, she won't wake up at all."His fifth film. It stars Heather Langenkamp, John Saxon, Ronee Blakley, Johnny Depp, and Robert Englund. The film's plot concerns a group of teenagers who are targeted by Freddy Krueger, an undead child killer who can murder people through their dreams, as retribution against their parents who burned him alive. The film was inspired by several newspaper articles printed in the Los Angeles Times in the 1970s about Hmong refugees, who, after fleeing to the United States because of war and genocide in Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam, suffered disturbing nightmares and refused to sleep. Some of the men died in their sleep soon after. This, along with the song "Dream Weaver" by Gary Wright, motivated Craven to craft a horror film focused on people dying through their sleep. The film's villain, Freddy Krueger, is drawn from Craven's early life. One night, a young Craven saw an elderly man walking on the sidepath outside the window of his home. The man stopped to glance at a startled Craven and walked off. This served as the inspiration for Krueger. Initially, Fred Krueger was intended to be a child molester, but Craven eventually characterized him as a child murderer to avoid being accused of exploiting a spate of highly publicized child molestation cases that occurred in California around the time of the film's production. He settled on the name Freddy Krueger, which was based on a childhood bully of his. The process of writing the film went smoothly, the real problem was finding a studio. Craven sent it to most studios, and all rejected it. The first studio to show interest was Disney, but Craven declined their offer as they wanted a more toned-down kid-friendly PG-13 flick. When Paramount and Universal also turned it down, Craven decided to go to the independent studio New Line Cinema. The studio only distributed films, but they agreed in financing the film. As they lacked the financial resources for the production, New Line had to turn to external financiers. Despite opening in just 165 theaters, the film earned $1.2 million in its opening weekend, making it clear that it would be an immediate box office success. It eventually closed with $25 million domestically, and $57 million worldwide. It received critical acclaim, and has been referred as one of the best and most influential slashers ever made. Freddy Krueger would soon be hailed as one of the most emblematic figures of horror, and Craven quickly earned a reputation as a horror legend. But most importantly, it was the beginning of New Line Cinema as a studio, which is why it's referred as "the house that Freddy built." The film would later spawn a franchise, although Craven wouldn't direct any of the "sequels." Why the quotation marks? We'll get to that later on.
The Hills Have Eyes Part II (1985)"So you think you're lucky to be alive."His sixth film. The sequel to The Hills Have Eyes, it stars Tamara Stafford, Kevin Spirtas, John Bloom, Michael Berryman, Penny Johnson, Janus Blythe, John Laughlin, Willard E. Pugh, Peter Frechette and Robert Houston. It follows a group of bikers who become stranded in the desert and find themselves fighting off a family of inbred cannibals who live off the land. The film was shot on a very low budget, and it simply ended prematurely because they ran out of funds. There are no box office numbers available, but it received awful reviews. Deadly Friend (1986)"There's no one alive who'll play with the girl next door."His seventh film. Based on the novel Friend by Diana Henstell, it stars Matthew Laborteaux, Kristy Swanson, Michael Sharrett, Anne Twomey, Richard Marcus, and Anne Ramsey. Its plot follows a teenage computer prodigy who implants a robot's processor into the brain of his teenage neighbor after she is pronounced brain dead; the experiment proves successful, but she swiftly begins a killing spree in their neighborhood. Craven wanted to make a PG-rated science fiction film, with a similar tone to Starman, hoping to prove that he could make something that wasn't horror-themed. An unfinished version of the film was screened to a test audience of Craven's fanbase, and it was poorly received for its lack of violence and gore like his previous films. So WB decided to rewrite the film, adding more scenes with tons of gore. This made the final film appear tonally jumbled, and it went from easy PG to struggling to not get an X rating. The film was poorly received for its story and inconsistent tone. It also marked a huge flop at the box office, not even hitting $10 million. Craven lost interest in the film after WB inserted their own version, and he has since disowned the film.
The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988)"Don't bury me, I'm not dead!"His eighth film. It stars Bill Pullman, and is loosely based on the life of ethnobotanist Wade Davis, recounting his experiences in Haiti investigating the story of Clairvius Narcisse, who was allegedly poisoned, buried alive, and revived with a herbal brew which produced what was called a zombie. The film received mixed reactions, but it was a much needed box office success for Craven.
Shocker (1989)"No more Mr. Nice Guy."His ninth film. It stars Michael Murphy, Peter Berg, Cami Cooper, and Mitch Pileggi, and follows a serial killer who uses electricity to come back from the dead and carry out his vengeance on the football player who turned him in to the police. Another mixed bag for Craven, but it was still profitable.
The People Under the Stairs (1991)"In every neighborhood, there's one house that adults whisper about and children cross the street to avoid."His tenth film. It stars Brandon Adams, Everett McGill, Wendy Robie, and A. J. Langer. The plot follows a young boy and two adult robbers who become trapped in a house belonging to a neighborhood's crooked landlords after breaking in to steal their collection of gold coins as the boy learns a dark secret about them and what also lurks in their house. After a slate of mixed performers, the film received Craven's best reviews since Elm Street. To the surprise of Universal, it was also a box office success.
Wes Craven's New Nightmare (1994)"This time, the terror doesn't stop at the screen."His 11th film. The installment in the A Nightmare on Elm Street franchise, it stars Robert Englund, Heather Langenkamp, Miko Hughes and John Saxon. The film is not part of the same continuity as previous films, and it portrays Freddy Krueger as a fictional movie villain who invades the real world and haunts the cast and crew involved in the making of the films about him. While Craven co-wrote the franchise's third installment, Dream Warriors, he wasn't that involved with the rest of the franchise. He wanted to make a deliberately more cerebral film than recent entries to the franchise, as he considered them as being cartoonish, and not faithful to his original themes. Specifically, he wanted Freddy to resemble his original vision: far darker and less comical. To reinforce this, the character's make-up and outfit were enhanced, with one of the most prominent differences being that he now wears a long blue/black trenchcoat. In addition, the signature glove was redesigned for a more organic look, with the fingers resembling bones and having muscle textures in between. The film received high praise, and was considered as the best film in the franchise since the original (it was Englund's favorite). But the franchise has been bleeding interest at the box office, and New Nightmare unfortunately had to suffer. It was profitable, but it became the lowest grossing film in the franchise.
Vampire in Brooklyn (1995)"A comic tale of horror and seduction."His 12th film. It stars Eddie Murphy, Angela Bassett, Allen Payne, Kadeem Hardison, John Witherspoon, Zakes Mokae, and Joanna Cassidy. It follows a Caribbean vampire who seduces a Brooklyn police officer who has no idea that she is half-vampire. The film had awful reviews, and despite the presence of a huge star like Eddie Murphy, it disappointed at the box office. Craven really needed a hit.
Scream (1996)"Someone has taken their love of scary movies one step too far."His 13th film. It stars David Arquette, Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, Matthew Lillard, Rose McGowan, Skeet Ulrich and Drew Barrymore. Set in the fictional town of Woodsboro, California, Scream's plot follows high school student Sidney Prescott and her friends, who, on the anniversary of her mother's murder, become the targets of a costumed serial killer known as Ghostface. As he was trying to make it in the industry, Kevin Williamson watched a Turning Point documentary about serial killer Danny Rolling which he said left him unsettled. Williamson later noticed an open window, armed himself with a knife, and called his friend for support. The pair began discussing horror characters that had resonated with them such as Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees. This experience prompted Williamson to start developing a concept wherein a girl is haunted by a caller. He started writing a film titled Scary Movie, and even left an outline for possible sequels. The concept was part of an era where there was debate over the influence of cinematic violence on audience, with Williamson coming up with a brilliant line "movies don't create psychos, movies make psychos more creative." It was inspired by many 1980s slashers, even though the genre was on decline by that point. His characters were intentionally designed to be knowledgeable about these horror films and their typical elements, with the intention of creating a unique killer who was not only aware of horror film clichés but also exploited them for his own advantage. While Williamson struggled with his previous films, this script was part of a bidding war with the studios, to the point that Oliver Stone himself wanted to direct it. Miramax (through Dimension Films) bought the script, and Williamson made some rewrites to scale back the violence. Bob Weinstein also wanted to change the name, as he believed the audiences would think the film is a comedy. The studio considered Danny Boyle, Tom McLoughlin, Sam Raimi, Robert Rodriguez, George A. Romero, Quentin Tarantino, and Anthony Waller as prime candidates to direct the film, but they all preferred to view the film as a comedy. Wes Craven was considered, but the studio believed he couldn't direct a satire. Craven also wasn't planning on directing it, as he wanted to focus on more mainstream films to salvage his career. Craven's assistant Julie Plec (who would collaborate with Williamson on The Vampire Diaries) convinced him in helming the project. By signing, Craven decided to get back some of the gore that was missing in the previous drafts. A huge contrast to the horror films of the era was that the film had established actors as the leads, as Craven and Williamson wanted to prove that no character was safe. Drew Barrymore had already starred in a few recognizable names, Neve Campbell was on the hit show Party of Five, Rose McGowan was known for Encino Man and The Doom Generation, David Arquette, Matthew Lillard and Skeet Ulrich were recognizable supporting characters, and Courteney Cox obviously was known for Friends. Vince Vaughn and Natasha Lyonne were the preferred choices for Billy and Tatum, but external problems caused them to drop out. After viewing the dailies raw footage, the Weinsteins criticized the quality of Craven's work as "workmanlike at best", believing it lacked tension and had an inconsistent tone. The Weinsteins also disliked the mask design, and said Barrymore lacked sex appeal because of the pageboy hairstyle she had chosen. While filming the final fight, Campbell's stuntwoman accidentally stabbed Ulrich with an umbrella tip, missing the protective vest he was wearing and hitting the site of an open heart surgery Ulrich had as a child. During post-production, Harvey Weinstein decided to name the film as Scream based on the Michael and Janet Jackson song. In a surprising move, the Weinsteins decided to release the film during the holiday season as counter-programming, offering teenagers an alternative to more traditional holiday fare. The decision was unpopular with the cast and crew, with Williamson expecting the film to fail. The film opened with $6.4 million and finishing in fourth place, leading analysts to consider the film as a bomb. But the film just kept growing. Buoyed by positive word of mouth, the Weinsteins increased marketing and the film managed to increase in its second and third weekends. It closed with $103 million domestically and $173 million worldwide, becoming the highest grossing slasher film ever and Craven's highest grossing film ever. The film received critical acclaim for its characters and writing, and has since been deemed as one of the most influential horror films of all time. It rekindled interest in horror, resurrected Craven's career and launched the careers of Williamson and the cast.
Scream 2 (1997)"Someone has taken their love of sequels one step too far."His 14th film. The sequel to Scream, it stars David Arquette, Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Jamie Kennedy, Laurie Metcalf, Jerry O'Connell, Elise Neal, Timothy Olyphant, Jada Pinkett, and Liev Schreiber. The film takes place two years after the first film and again follows the character of Sidney Prescott, along with other survivors of the Woodsboro massacre, at the fictional Windsor College in Ohio where they are targeted by a copycat killer using the guise of Ghostface. As Williamson already had plans for sequels, the idea was for Sidney to attend college while being stalked by a copycat Ghostface killer. As filming began, Williamson's script had four killers: Derek, Hallie, Cotton Weary, and Nancy Loomis. But after Williamson transferred his script to the production, it was leaked onto the Internet in full, revealing the identity of the killers and a large amount of the involved plot. This resulted in the production continuing to film with only a partial script while Williamson conducted extensive rewrites, changing much of the film's finale, the identities of the film's killers and drastically altering the roles of other characters such as Randy Meeks and Joel. With a short deadline, Williamson couldn't fully compromise on the final script, forcing Craven to fill in the gaps himself. So the film was one of the very first cases where the Internet leaked major aspects of a film. As the Weinsteins wanted the film ready for December, it was able to capitalize on the audience's word of mouth to the original. It opened with $32 million in its first weekend, almost five times as big as the original, and the biggest December debut. It didn't hold as great as the original due to the competition, such as Titanic, but it still made $172.3 million worldwide, almost matching the original's gross. It also received very positive reviews, and so a profitable franchise was already underway.
Music of the Heart (1999)"She gave them a gift they could never imagine. They gave the system a fight it would never forget."His 15th film. The film stars Meryl Streep, Aidan Quinn, Angela Bassett, Gloria Estefan, Jane Leeves, Kieran Culkin and Jay O. Sanders. The film is a dramatization of the true story of Roberta Guaspari, who co-founded the Opus 118 Harlem School of Music and fought for music education funding in New York City public schools. After seeing the documentary Small Wonders, Craven was inspired to make a full-length film about Guaspari. Madonna was originally signed to play the role of Guaspari, but left the project before filming began, citing "creative differences" with Craven. When she left, Madonna had already studied for many months to play the violin. Streep learned to play Bach's Concerto for 2 Violins for the film. The project marked a huge departure for Craven; it was his first and only film to be rated PG, and his only one to not be horror or thriller. It received generally positive reviews, but it bombed at the box office. It received 2 Oscar nominations for Best Actress and Best Original Song, the only Craven film to get any noms.
Scream 3 (2000)"The most terrifying scream is always the last."His 16th film. The third installment in the Scream franchise, it stars David Arquette, Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox Arquette, Parker Posey, Patrick Dempsey, Scott Foley, Lance Henriksen, Matt Keeslar, Jenny McCarthy, Emily Mortimer, Deon Richmond, and Patrick Warburton. The film's story takes place one year after the previous film's events and follows Sidney Prescott, who has gone into self-imposed isolation following the events of the previous two films but is drawn to Hollywood after a new Ghostface begins killing the cast of the film within a film Stab 3. The plans for a sequel were already underway since Williamson sold the script, although Williamson still didn't write a script yet. When the Weinsteins approached him to write the film, Williamson was already busy with many projects (including his directorial debut), and was unavailable to perform his duties. He only made a 20-page outline wherein Ghostface would return just as production on a fictional film Stab 3 would be filmed. His plan was to show the killers were part of a Stab fan club (this idea would later be adapted into his show, The Following). With Williamson not available, Ehren Kruger was tasked in writing. Shortly before production began on the film, the Columbine High School massacre took place, and many parties began looking for reasoning behind the shooters' actions and there came an increased scrutiny on the role of the media in society, including video games and film, and the influence it could have on an audience. With production of Scream 3 not yet underway, there were considerations about whether the film should be made at that time, aware of the potential for negative attention but the studio decided to press forward, albeit with changes. The Weinsteins demanded to scale back on the gore and emphasize its satiric humor, as well as moving the setting to Hollywood. At one point in the production, the studio went as far as demanding that the film feature no blood or on-screen violence at all, a drastic departure for the series, but Craven directly intervened. One of the aspects changed was that the killer would be revealed to be Stu Macher, having survived the original film. The Weinsteins changed it after Columbine, as they didn't want to associate violence and murder with a high school setting. The film opened with $34.7 million, a franchise record and the biggest February debut ever. But it had weak legs, although it still made a very profitable $161.8 million worldwide. While the previous films were well-received, this film received negative reviews, who lambasted the film for becoming the very own thing it satirizes.
Cursed (2005)"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."His 17th film. It stars Christina Ricci, Joshua Jackson, Jesse Eisenberg, Judy Greer, Scott Baio, Milo Ventimiglia, Shannon Elizabeth and Mýa, and follows two orphaned siblings attacked by a werewolf loose in Los Angeles. Kevin Williamson started working on a script that followed the exploits of a New York City serial killer who discovers that his lethal tendencies are due to his lycanthrope nature. When one of his projects was scrapped, Craven decided to direct, teaming them up again for another Scream reunion. But it wasn't planned like that. Craven was making a film, Pulse, when Bob Weinstein abruptly pulled the movie from the schedule ten days before shooting and cut through all the slow lanes, wanting Craven to get to Cursed as soon as possible. Craven was reportedly not pleased so Weinstein doubled his pay in order for him to direct the film. The director deemed the script too tonally similar to his film Vampire in Brooklyn, but felt pressured by the studio, leading him to ultimately sign on. The film started filming in January 2003, hoping to get the film released in August. In June, they only had six days left for filming. Suddenly, Dimension Films decided to put the movie on hold because top executives at the company weren't happy with the film's ending or how the special effects were progressing, specifically the look of the film's lead lupine. Rick Baker was preparing the final transformation effects when production stopped and asked Weinstein to let his team finish the work in order for it to be ready for the reshoot, but he refused. Patrick Lussier was brought in for massive rewrites, and the film didn't return to production until November. Baker was fired, and the prosthetic make-up was replaced with CGI. Skeet Ulrich filmed his scene as one of the leads, but chose to drop out following the reshoots as he disliked the new direction. It was also heavily edited to get the R rating down to PG-13. The budget was originally $35 million, yet some reports suggest it ballooned all the way to $100 million, making it one of the most expensive horror films ever. With that budget, it was clear it was not going to be a box office success. It flopped with just $29 million worldwide, and was panned by critics. Craven himself dislikes the final product, and a director's cut was never an option because his original ending was never filmed.
Red Eye (2005)"Fear takes flight."His 18th film. It stars Rachel McAdams, Cillian Murphy, and Brian Cox. The story follows a hotel manager ensnared in an assassination plot by a terrorist while aboard a red-eye flight to Miami. The film received Craven's best reviews in years, and was a box office success, earning almost $100 million. While he is fine with people loving it, Cillian Murphy is not really fond of the film, "I love Rachel McAdams and we had fun making it but I don’t think it's a good movie. It’s a good B movie."
My Soul to Take (2010)"Only one has the power to save their souls."His 19th film. It stars Max Thieriot, Denzel Whitaker, Raul Esparza, and Shareeka Epps. It follows Adam "Bug" Hellerman, who is one of seven teenagers chosen to die following the anniversary of a serial killer's death. This was Craven's first film in almost two decades where he would be directing, producing and writing. But that didn't pan out to a success: it was a critical and commercial dud.
Scream 4 (2011)"New decade. New rules."His 20th and final film. The fourth installment in the Scream franchise, it stars David Arquette, Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, Emma Roberts, Hayden Panettiere, Anthony Anderson, Alison Brie, Adam Brody, Rory Culkin, Marielle Jaffe, Erik Knudsen, Mary McDonnell, Marley Shelton, Nico Tortorella, and Roger L. Jackson. The film takes place on the fifteenth anniversary of the original Woodsboro murders from Scream and involves Sidney Prescott returning to the town after ten years, where Ghostface once again begins killing students from Woodsboro High. In 2010, Williamson and Craven confirmed their plans for a new film. Craven said that endless sequels, the modern spew of remakes, film studios, and directors are the butts of parodies in the film. The main characters have to figure out where the horror genre is in current days to figure out the modern events happening to and around them. This was the first film in the franchise to use CGI, with the knife's blade added in post-production. Even though the franchise was profitable, it seemed like its glory days were long behind it by the time it hit theaters. The film disappointed in its opening weekend with just $18 million, and closed with a weak $97 million worlwide, far less than the previous films. It also received mixed reviews, particularly for its writing and new characters. It was the last film directed by Craven before his death in 2015.
MOVIES (FROM HIGHEST GROSSING TO LEAST GROSSING)
The VerdictQuite inconsistent, but a very iconic figure in the horror genre. You know you made it big when your creations include Elm Street and Scream. Craven often struggled with difficult productions (you can blame the Weinsteins for that), but he still managed to make competent and scary films, even if some are better than others. Some even see critical re-appraisal as time passes; even Scream 3 and Scream 4 have their fans. We don't know what he would've done with the franchise after the fourth film, but he made it clear he was exhausted by having to film without finished scripts. Rest in Peace to a horror legend.Hope you liked this edition. You can find this and more in the wiki for this section. The next director will be Clint Eastwood. I think I'll have to make two posts, given that he directed 42 films. I asked you to choose who else should be in the run and the comment with the most upvotes would be chosen. Well, we'll later talk about... Ang Lee. A legendary Asian director. This is the schedule for the following four:
And that theme is: controversial directors. I'm talking directors who have attained a polarizing response to their films (like Zack Snyder), or the directors themselves are also controversial figures in real life (like Oliver Stone). Basically, a director that has as many fans as haters. |