Story frame worksheet

Six Word Stories

2010.01.09 19:30 passwordispassword3 Six Word Stories

‎"For sale: baby shoes, never worn." - Ernest Hemingway A story told in only six words - Hemingway called this his best work. Can you do better?
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2010.12.24 02:05 haight-ashbury vertical comics

Vertical is a subreddit dedicated to the posting of vertical comics.
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2012.01.14 00:00 grahvity Entire Movies Summarized Using Just 3 Frames

🎬 Entire Movies Summarized Using Just 3 Screenshots 🎬
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2024.05.17 00:29 ReachIll41 Capturing the Magic: Why Professional Photography is Your Secret Weapon for an NYC Proposal

Capturing the Magic: Why Professional Photography is Your Secret Weapon for an NYC Proposal
Congratulations! You've chosen the perfect NYC location to pop the question, and excitement is surely bubbling over. But amidst the planning, there's one crucial detail that shouldn't be overlooked: capturing those precious moments for a lifetime. Sure, you could snap a selfie, but for an NYC proposal that truly shines, consider enlisting the expertise of a professional photographer (or videographer!). Here's why having a pro behind the lens is your secret weapon for an unforgettable "Yes" moment.
https://preview.redd.it/j81zikwa7v0d1.png?width=1887&format=png&auto=webp&s=b9e5dfda9f21ea0727f26d1e2ca484a0afee1dc9
Preserving the Fleeting Joy: A Timeless Keepsake
Let's be honest, proposals are a whirlwind of emotions. There's nervous anticipation, overflowing joy, and maybe even a few happy tears. In the midst of this beautiful chaos, it's easy to miss the finer details – the nervous tremor in your hand as you present the ring, the look of pure happiness on your partner's face as they say "Yes." A professional photographer captures these fleeting moments, transforming them into a timeless keepsake you can cherish forever.
Beyond the Snapshot: A Story Told Through Images (or Video!)
Professional photographers don't just capture a single image; they tell a story. They'll capture the anticipation leading up to the proposal, the raw emotions as you get down on one knee, and the pure joy of the "Yes" moment. They'll document the excitement of your celebration, the breathtaking backdrop of your chosen location, and all the little details that make your proposal unique. Whether you choose still photography or opt for a heartwarming video, these captured moments will transport you back to that special day, allowing you to relive the magic for years to come.
NYC: A Masterpiece Deserves a Masterful Eye
NYC is a photographer's playground, with its iconic landmarks, vibrant streetscapes, and unexpected pockets of charm. A professional photographer knows how to navigate the city's diverse environments, capturing the essence of your chosen location and using it to enhance your proposal story. They'll utilize lighting to create a romantic atmosphere, find the perfect angles to showcase the city's beauty, and ensure you and your partner look your absolute best in those all-important proposal photos.
Candid Captures: The Power of Authentic Emotions
Professional photographers are masters of capturing genuine emotion. They'll blend seamlessly into the background, allowing you to feel comfortable and relaxed throughout the proposal. This allows them to capture the raw, unscripted moments of joy and surprise that make your proposal truly special. These candid shots will be far more meaningful than staged poses, reminding you of the genuine emotions that filled the air on your special day.
Finding the Perfect Match: A Photographer Who Captures Your Vision
With countless talented photographers in NYC, finding the right one is key. Research photographers with experience in proposal photography, taking note of their style and portfolio. Do they specialize in classic or photojournalistic styles? Do their photos capture the emotions and energy you envision for your proposal? Schedule consultations to discuss your vision, ask questions, and ensure you feel comfortable and confident with their approach.
Your NYC Proposal: A Perfectly Framed Memory
Investing in professional photography isn't just about capturing the moment; it's about creating a lasting legacy of your love story. These photos and videos will become treasured keepsakes, allowing you to relive the magic of your NYC proposal and share it with loved ones for years to come.
But wait, there's more! Planning a seamless NYC proposal involves more than just capturing the moment. For a stress-free and unforgettable experience, you'll also need to consider the logistics and how to embrace the city's unpredictable charm. Head back to our comprehensive guide: "Unforgettable NYC Proposals: A Guide with Romantic Locations & Pro Tips" for expert advice on navigating the city and ensuring your proposal goes off without a hitch. There, you'll find tips on planning logistics, handling unexpected situations, and making your NYC proposal an experience you'll never forget! So, get ready to capture the magic, tell your love story through stunning visuals, and create a proposal worthy of the iconic NYC backdrop.
submitted by ReachIll41 to u/ReachIll41 [link] [comments]


2024.05.17 00:19 Binks-sake-4-u Did you know…

Did you know…
That Sanji’s character ghost, history, was revealed as early as Jaya, well before the actions of Whole cake island?
In Jaya we learned that Sanji was not actually from the East, but the North blue, and thanks to Bellamy we’re left to do the mental math of realizing that he could possibly be royalty. During Chapter 228 of Skypeia Saga we get a full spill of Mont Blac Nolan from his great great great great…oh from his ancestor Mont Blac Cricket who coincidentally hates the blood that runs in his veins. Just like a certain love-sick cook. Cricket continues with his proclamation of hatred, which was a suicide mission mind you, finishing with the statement “ This is my battle with the man who ruined my life, but before I die I intend to set the record straight.” Now fast forward to Whole cake and Sanji pushes everyone away claiming this is his fight alone, and by the end sets the record straight with his father. It’s a beautiful bit of story foreshadowing that even as you reread the arc is perfectly executed. During the final statement of Mont Blanc Cricket in the panel Sanji is the dominant frame. He’s up front to us the readers while everyone else is in the background. Still makes me wonder how people can say that Oda doesn’t plan all the marvelous things within the story.
Thanks for indulging me and enjoy your day or night.
submitted by Binks-sake-4-u to OnePiece [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 23:39 NESpahtenJosh Spartan Raymond James Stadium Course Map

Spartan Raymond James Stadium Course Map submitted by NESpahtenJosh to ObstacleCourseRacing [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 23:36 Educational-Mix-5050 Help Needed: Upgrading to GB internet and Ubiquiti advice

Hi, I am completely new to networking and running cable so bear with me. I have a 2,900 sq ft 2 story home built in early 2000s (3 story including unfinished basement) and am looking to run some CAT6 for a few outdoor soffit cameras, indoor APs, wiring for a future living room media center located on the 1st floor, and multiple CAT6 runs in the basement. A lot of the home (mostly 2nd story) was already wired with CAT5E when we purchased it. There is a network closet with a switch and router on the 2nd story where all the CAT5E and Coax was ran (8 CAT5E wires). My plan is have an ubiquiti access point on all floors (ceiling mount) and then replace the current 2nd story switch and router with a cloud key and a mall Ubiquiti switch. I eventually plan on having a rack setup in the basement after all the basement CAT6 is ran and the basement is framed/ finished (won't happen for another couple of years). I am soon switching over to fiber internet (2GBps) and do not want to use my ISPs modem/router since I want to use ubiquiti. The tech from my ISP supplied me with a 40 ft simplex SC/APC fiber patch cable that I am planning to run from the 2nd story network closet down to the basement through conduit. They will make the connection to the outside fiber. I had a chance to briefly talk to a tech from the internet company and they said they could install a "pass through" in my network closet if I did not want to use their equipment. I looked it up online and it looks like it is maybe an ONT. From what I've researched the fiber cable they supplied me with will not work on the ubiquiti SFP Port and I need to ask for a GPON SFP? I would like to be able to use the 2GBps internet I'm paying for so it looks like I would need to use a ubiquiti switch with SFP+. I also want to utilize the already existing network closet upstairs, but later would like to expand by adding a rack in the basement one day where all the basement CAT6 runs will connect to another switch. I want everything to be on the same network.
My questions:
1) Am I correct about needing a GPON SFP from my internet service provider to transition from SC/APC fiber to a ubiquiti SFP port? What happens if my ISP cannot supply me with one? Can I still use Ubiquiti?
2) If my ISP is able to provide a GPON SFP, but is not able to provide a SFP+ am I wasting money paying for 2 GBps fiber?
3) does my setup of having a smaller ubiquiti switch upstairs and planning for a bigger one in the basement one day sound okay? Anything I need to think about? I'm assuming I will need to connect the two switches together. so how would I connect them? Could I use a fiber cable connecting between the SFP ports or using CAT6?
For the CAT6 runs I plan on using conduit and will be running more wires than needed based off advice I've read.
I may be completely off with my thinking as all this is new to me so I apologize if I am completely wrong on everything I just wrote lol.
Thank you for your help.
submitted by Educational-Mix-5050 to HomeNetworking [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 23:35 StNikolai Had my first bad boomer run in

Went to the movies the other night to see the new planet of the apes movie. While the trailers were going on the three boomers next to me were talking full volume. Now I don’t expect people to be silent during the trailers (even though it still bothers me) but I let it go.
The lights go down and the opening starts and I still hear a bit of chatter but I figure that was them finishing their conversation. The first frame of the movie is some exposition. The man boomer starts READING THE TEXT OUT LOUD AND ASKING QUESTIONS I assume to his wife. WHO ANSWERS THEM.
I was like nope I’m going to shut this down before they feel like they can do this the whole time. I lean over and say “would you please not talk during the movie.” The woman next to me gives me a confused look but then I see her lean over to the other two boomers she’s with and points at me while saying “he says to stop talking.”
Fine they stop for maybe 10-15 minutes and then the chitter chatter starts again at a very low volume. I kind of accept my fate that I’ll be annoyed through the whole movie and keep thinking if i say something again or go grab an employee to back me up. I end up doing neither until the final moments of the movie. No spoilers but during the resolution of the film, important moment in any movie, they’re back to talking full volume. I’m livid at this point because I was really invested in the story. So i lean over and loudly shush them. The woman closest to me looks disgusted for a second then shushes me back and says “oh you go shush yourself!”
At this point my hearts racing cuz I am not a confrontational person, just really passionate about not having people talk during movies lol. I know this is nothing compared to some of what yall have experienced I was just stunned at the audacity. If I ever bothered someone in public and they asked me to stop whatever it was that bothered them I would just sink into myself so self conscious and feeling bad and embarrassed. Rant over lol.
submitted by StNikolai to BoomersBeingFools [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 23:27 game-boi-sp Writing Stories in the Second Person, Present Tense For Interactivity with Readers

Thinking a lot about interaction with my readers, and really inviting them in to the world and story.
First and third person very common, but second person, present feels a lot less common. I grew up enjoying the choose-your-own-adventure stories, so that may be why my mind gravitates towards it, and framing the story almost as an experience for your reader.
Curious if anyone else is thinking about their stories this way, how it's working for you, and thinking about these interactive elements of story to create experiences with your readers.
Thank you!
submitted by game-boi-sp to writing [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 23:19 karenvideoeditor The Serial Killer

[EU] My book series Trackers; several years before the books take place
You do not need to be familiar with the Trackers universe to enjoy this short story. While it is set within the same universe, it stands alone as its own narrative.
***
Katherine walked down the hallway of the seventh floor in the building housing Sacramento’s FBI branch, following the directions she’d been given by the secretary downstairs. Finding the office she was looking for, she knocked on the door, though it was propped open, and walked over to the man sitting at the desk.
“Hi, Katherine Colebrook,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“SAC Ted Hemmingway,” the FBI agent replied, standing up and shaking her hand firmly. He looked more like an FBI agent than most agents Katherine knew, which was saying something. He had a tall, solid frame, but thinning blonde hair covered his head, on its way to being a comb-over, hinting at his actual age. “How was your flight?”
“Uneventful. The perfect kind,” she replied.
“Good. So, I know you come highly recommended as someone who gets cases moving, but to be frank, I’ve never worked with a psychic. Don’t have much faith in them. I prefer old-fashioned detective work.”
“I get paid either way,” Katherine responded without skipping a beat.
Katherine had dealt with many like him before. It annoyed her, but she didn’t spend too much time dwelling on it. She assumed it had something to do with the fact that they’d been able to explain lycanthropy and vampirism and fae with recent scientific studies, but psychics were still being researched and therefore still a debated topic. Plus, they weren’t very plentiful in law enforcement, so it was rare to have the opportunity to work with one.
Hemmingway blinked at her curt response once as she took a seat before he nodded. “All right. Well this is the case file,” he said, handing a file folder over to her and sitting down behind his desk. “It was recommended by a colleague of mine that we call you in when the tally hit three victims. But as of last night, it’s four. And the two trackers that went after it were killed. It was one murder per night, so we’re thinking a newly turned wolf. The bodies are found mutilated, and the clothes were torn off.” Katherine looked over the paperwork as the agent continued to speak. “Any suspects we had were tested with silver and all have been cleared. This isn’t just a series of attacks, though; this is a serial killer.”
“You’re thinking a personal vendetta against these men, from the humiliating display of the bodies?” Katherine asked, glancing up to the agent briefly.
“Yeah. There doesn’t seem to be a connection between the victims though, so the theory is the killer’s targeting men that fit a profile.”
“What profile would that be?” Katherine asked, flipping through the file.
“White, middle-aged, wealthy.”
Katherine cocked an eyebrow at him. “Wealthy?” she echoed.
“It’s all in the bios,” he replied. “One was a lawyer, one was an accountant, two were well-off businessmen.”
Katherine nodded slowly. “All right. Who’s the lead on the case?”
Hemmingway brought his eyebrows together. “That’d be me.”
“So where’s the rest of the information?” Katherine asked.
“The rest?”
“Research. I’m sure you’ve had agents pouring over the victims’ lives to find a link between them,” she said.
Hemmingway pursed his lips for a moment before he nodded. “I’ve got a few guys still digging. They’re working out of an office two floors up.”
“I’d like to see what they’ve come up with so far,” Katherine told him.
The FBI agent sighed, standing up. “I thought you were supposed to be psychic,” he muttered, half to himself walking around his desk.
“Being psychic tells me things about the people I’m around,” she responded, slightly miffed at the comment. She followed him out of the room, the folder tucked under her arm. “Tells me you’ve been cheating on your wife for the past year.” Hemmingway stumbled to a stop, darting his eyes back toward Katherine as she continued speaking as if he hadn’t locked a heavy glare on her. “Not much about this killer. At least not yet. I’m psychic; I’m not god. And I have no interest in your marital extracurriculars. Can you please take me to your agents?”
Hemmingway hesitated, probably considering a threat of reporting her for invasion of privacy, before brushing it off and continuing down the hall to the elevators. The doors opened immediately and he selected the fifth floor.
Once they arrived, he knocked on the door before opening it, drawing the gazes of several agents spread around the room. “This is Ms. Colebrook. She’s here to consult on the case,” Hemmingway spoke, shutting the door and walking over to one of the men sitting at the table covered in boxes of files and papers. “This is Agent Lester Marconi,” he told Katherine, prompting a small wave from the agent. “He’s in charge of the research we’ve been putting together on the victims. That’s Agent Kirk Vaughn,” he continued, pointing, “and that’s Agent Stacy Genovese.”
“I was hoping to get a better look at some of the crime scene photos,” Katherine spoke, looking over the papers on the table. She walked over to a corkboard on the wall where she saw photos of the victims with their information underneath, as well as a smattering of newspaper articles.
“Those are right here,” Marconi spoke up, picking up four folders and handing them over to Katherine.
The tracker opened the first folder on an empty area of a table, spreading out the grisly photographs, looking over them with a cool detachment. She pursed her lips, staring at one of them, before opening the second folder and leafing through it. She pulled up a chair and sat down, shaking her head slowly. “This isn’t a wolf,” she said quietly.
“What?” Marconi asked, his expression becoming wary but curious.
“Just look at this,” Katherine told him, pointing at a close-up photograph of one of the wounds. “It’s all shreds, sure, but…. This isn’t a werewolf.”
“How can you tell?” Hemmingway asked.
“Experience,” she answered. “It’s understandable your other trackers mistook it for a wolf attack, but I’ve seen plenty of werewolf attacks and I’ve seen plenty of vampire attacks, and this is a vampire. I’m sure you’ve got experts to show these photos to. They’ll confirm it.”
“Why the hell would a vampire do something like this?” Marconi asked. He walked over and took a seat next to Katherine, examining the photos. “There was an immense amount of blood at the scene. No indication that any was missing.”
“Because the characteristic of primary importance here is serial killer, not vampire,” Katherine told him. “The vampire was just the weapon. The serial killer was who murdered them. And presumably that’s what the killer was counting on. It seemed obvious that the killer was a werewolf from the damage, so you didn’t consider a vampire angle.”
“So our serial killer happened to be a vampire, is what you’re saying,” Hemmingway said skeptically.
Katherine hesitated thoughtfully. “Considering the anger and recklessness involved here, there’s a good chance that this vampire’s sire matches the profile of your victims.”
“They were turned against their will, and now they’re going after humans that remind them of the one that turned them,” Marconi stated.
“It’s a good theory.” Katherine stood up. “I’ll be happy to investigate this further, but I think you’d be better off with trackers that are local, that know the area. Now that they know they’re going after a vampire, they’ll be prepared, and they should be fine.”
“That sounds good. Sorry to drag you all the way out here for no reason,” Hemmingway said, making his way toward the door. “I could’ve just emailed you the photos, I suppose.”
“I get paid either way,” Katherine said with a shrug, walking out of the room behind him, glancing at her watch.
Marconi headed out into the hallway after her. “Hey.” Katherine turned around. “Could I get your card? I’d like to have a way to get in touch with you if I ever run into a case where I need help with wound identification again.”
“Sure,” she replied, taking out the small metal case from her pocket that housed her business cards, handing one over to him. “Call for a consult on any case, day or night.”
“I will, thanks so much. If I can ask, how is it that you’re so much more experienced with tracking?” Marconi asked. “I mean, you look pretty young, and most trackers go for their certification after five years of apprenticing, and three is the minimum. How long have you been doing this?”
Katherine gave him a morose smile. “Too long,” she muttered. At that, she turned and walked away, leaving Marconi to stare after her, taking out her cell phone to call her daughter and let her know the job had ended early.
submitted by karenvideoeditor to storiesbykaren [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 23:05 Billy_BlueBallz Newbie Framing/Shot Problem (please be gentle lol)

Hey all, I’m new to the group, and also new to production in general. So my situation might be slightly unique: I’m starting to shoot some skits with a few local actors/actresses, but I’m also am going to be in the videos as well. For now just tripoding a few cameras. I do some story boarding, and also look at other videos, and stills for the angles, and shots I want, but my big problem is that when I go to actually set up the shot I can never seem to get the framing how I want it. So two questions:
1) Is this and common problem for new producers, and directors?
2) any tips, and tricks to help, improve with this?
Thanks in advance!
submitted by Billy_BlueBallz to Filmmakers [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 23:02 Violet-Flowersss Maxi-Challenge 6: Results

Maxi-Challenge 6: Results
Welcome back queens from our first ball! You had a tall order this challenge, and several of you did very well. Let’s not delay the results any longer!
Tracy Martel, you are safe
Absynthe, Mistress Anna Conda, Liz Onya, Raven Starfire, B*tch, and Miz Erie, you all represent the tops and bottoms of this challenge. Now, on to the critiques.
Absynthe: Absynthe, I love simple looks when they’re done right, and each and every one of your looks did simplicity right. I especially appreciate that you weaved a theme through all three looks. For your first look, I love that you went with a more recent trend. I can totally see Kim K wearing this in an “unexpected” paparazzi pic. At first, I was skeptical of the skirt, because tighter skirts or pants were more the style, but I actually appreciate that you didn’t directly copy a Kim K look. My only real critique is the shoes. I think the black laces, especially on clear shoes, takes away from the simplicity in the rest of the look and brings down the athleisurewear vibe. I would have preferred a sneaker or basic heel. I also kind of wish you had used a different lip, not only to break up a set, but also because big ass lips were more on trend for this style. Still, I really like this look as a whole. Now, your second look, I really really love. I instantly got this was a 60s look, yet it feels fresh to me. The dress is the perfect silhouette, and the squares you created are so crisp. The largest black square has a little blotch of gray that I immediately noticed, and I wish you had fixed it. But, that’s really the only thing here I can critique. I think my favorite part of this look is the mug, these eyes are just so right for a 60s look. Every choice your made with this second look is great. The third look is really the best in terms of simplicity done right. There’s not much going on, but all the details are so good and beautiful. I love the little belt below the waist, it helps convey the Greek/Roman feel you were going for. With the rest of the editing, there’s some small (small) issues. On the right side of the dress, there’s a gliterry piece sticking out that I think came from merging pieces together. I also feel like the shawl is oversaturated for this look. In a different look, it would be fine, but with the softness of the dress and overall feel of the look, that bright bright red doesn’t quite fit. Don’t think I didn’t notice that all the metals match this time though - I did and I appreciate it. Putting the small editing issues aside, this look is very beautiful and regal. In fact, all three looks are really great and beautiful. Great work Absynthe!
Mistress Anna Conda: Mistress, all three of your looks have a great concept, but fall short in terms of execution. For the first one, before you added a description, I really had no idea what decade or century you were going for. With the description, I kind of see the 2010s, but that should have been conveyed clearer. The wig is the main aspect thats makes this look feel older than the 2010s. And, I don’t love that you lightened it. The original color would have matched the pants, and if you didn’t want them to match, the wig should be a color thats more different than the pants. I appreciate that you recolored the necklaces to match the earrings, but I wish you had done the opposite, because the gold necklaces blend into the top, making it look even messier. The pants totally give 2010s, and the color is really nice. However, they don’t look like jeans, they look like leggings. Adding stitching or denim patterning would’ve made them look more like jeans. Its a nice look, I like the attitude and idea, but the small details are off and it missed the main goal of the challenge. Of your three looks, I think this second look is my least favorite. For one thing, this jumpsuit for a disco look is about the most expected choice ever. The recoloring is really nice, the teal and orange combo is really pretty. But, the balance is off. There is a lottt of teal and not a lot of orange. What’s really brining this look down, though, is the wig. To be frank, it looks like a dead bush with some green spores. If there was a reference, I wish you had provided it because I couldn’t find it online. I see the idea you had, and it could’ve been cute, but the colors really need to be changed. As a whole, I think this look is suffering from a lack of creativity and needs to be amped up. The third look is the best out of the three. Its very cute, and clearly reads as 1890s. She looks like a mix of little bo peep and mary poppins. The combination of pieces is really smooth, and the top and bottom come together to make a nice, cohesive dress. The only editing issue you have is on the top. Where the pink and blue meet, theres a rough, shaky black line. I think you were trying to make them look layers, but it just looks odd, and because of the fold that stretches across the shirt, that prevents the two different colors from looking like layers. Not to beat a dead horse, but another issue with the top is the stark difference in fabrics. The skirt is a very soft, almost matte material while the top is shiny and plasticy. They don’t look like they’d be a part of the same dress, ruining the illusion. The wig, hat, and gloves were a nice touch though and help elevate the look a bit. This look is mostly accurate for the 1980s, but what’s not right for the time period is the waist. The dress you’ve created is very unflattering, in that it completely eliminates your waist. Corsets were still popular in the 1890s, so at the very least, there should be a semblance of an hourglass figure. All three looks are nice, but not particularly stunning, mainly because of the details.
Liz Onya: Liz, each and every one of your looks is so great, and I can clearly tell you put a lot of thought and effort into every one. This first look of yours is so beautiful. I actually had to look up Akaska because I’ve never seen the movie, and all the references are so right. I especially like the headpiece, its very accurate to hers. My favorite part of this look is the smoke at the bottom, it really helps sell the mysterious vampire mystery. However… this is not a 2000s look. It kind of feels like a cope out. While the movie was made in the 2000s, the vampire your imitating is ancient Egyptian, and therefore dressed in a way thats meant to imitate ancient fashion. While others did imitate movie characters, their movie characters were from the 2000s canonically and therefore dressed in 2000s fashion. Vampires definitely were a big part of the 2000s, but if you had done Twilight instead, that would’ve fit the 2000s better because the fashion in that movie was from the 2000s. There’s no issues with your look, its gorgeous, but it does not fit the challenge prompt. Your second look is my favorite of the three, and dare I say, my favorite out of all the 1900s look. I could immediately tell this was from the 1980s, and I think you did the 80s in such a fun, new way. I love art, and I love when its incorporated into to fasion. The recoloring on the dress is just amazing. I love how it looks like its literally made of painted paper, and the shakiness of the lines works really well here because its accurate to the reference you provided. Even though it is very accurate to the reference, you still managed to make it your own by combining two references and through the wig and makeup choices. The body paint is fantastic, and even the white line on the wig looks like paint, a detail I love. The wig helps reinforce that this is an 80s look, and its blocky shape works perfectly with all the shapes throughout the dress. I don’t have a single negative thing to say about this look, incredible work. With your third look, I love love love that you went with a more obscure reference, and gave us a little history lesson. The editing really turns this into a stunning look. It easily could have been too basic if you left the dress as it is in the game, but that pool of blood at the bottom really amps up the horror here. The way you intertwined your fingers into the victims hair is so great and such an important detail. With the head, I do wish that the victims skin tone was different because at first glance it looks like your holding your own head. Using a different body type helped create a difference, but a different skin tone would have really hit it home. As for the victims body, I was really confused on what it was until I zoomed in on my laptop. All the dark blood all over the body makes it blend into the pool of blood, so its not clear that its a body. Less blood or a lighter outfit would have made it clearer. You do get extra credit for creating two 1800s looks, though. As for your head, the blood splatter on the face was such a great detail to add in there, I really love it. I would have liked a different mug, though. She looks almost surprised or sad - like shes not the one who just murdered a woman. A fiercer, meaner mug would’ve been better. The hair is great, it looks like the 1890s, but unkept and messy, adding the story. Overall, this look is so hauntingly beautiful, and tells such a great visual story. You just keep wowing me every challenge, Liz!
Raven Starfire: Raven, out of the three looks, I feel like you put the most thought and attention into the 1800s look, and let the others fall to the wayside. For your 2000s look… I’m really not loving it. You resubmitted it (which is fine) and I wish you hadn’t because I think the first submission was better. The blonde hair does not look good, the color is all wrong, and because it is so long, it completely ruins the rest of the look. The dark brown hair was a lot more complimentary and I felt it was a nice way for you to put your own spin on a Mean Girls look. The mismatched pinks really bother me, the jacket and the skirt aren’t the same shade and you could’ve easily fixed that. I’m not loving the top skirt combo otherwise either, the jacket is athleisurewear while the skirt is preppy. I think there was a lot more you could’ve done to make this look more cohesive and more unique; as-is, it reads as a knock-off mean girl. For the second look, I actually asked my mom if this look was accurate for the 80s (because she grew up then) and she confirmed that this is accurate for a boss bitch from the 80s. The makeup is great, she confirmed there were a lot of pastels in the 80s, and I like the expression the eye and lip combo makes. While all the pieces in the outfit are time-period accurate, I don’t love the look as a whole. Starting with the wig, I, for one, am not a fan of this wig already, but I think there were ways you could have improved it. But since you mentioned the big hair of the 80s, I really wish you had gone with a different wig entirely that was even bigger. I’ve seen my mom’s high school photos, and her hair takes up about 70% of the frame, so I would've loved to have seen you go really big. The same thing goes for the shoulder pads, I barely even noticed this top had them, which I wouldn’t care about if you hadn't mentioned big shoulder pads. The pattern on the top totally gives 80s, but I wish you had used a lower level of it, one that didn’t have the weird harness on it. If you wanted to keep the harness, I think it would've been nicer if it matched the skirt so the skirt color was tied into the shirt somehow. That also would’ve made the harness feel more like an intentional choice. I appreciate that you matched the shoes so exactly to the skirt, buttt I think white would’ve stood out more and tied into the gloves. This look is very accurate for the 80s, but I’m just not in love with it. Now, your 1800s look, I totally am in love with. It totally feels like its from the 1800s while still being unique and creative. The layering on the skirt is absolutely beautiful, I especially really appreciate the lace edges, it helps bring all the layers together into a cohesive look. The ruffles, the gloves, the pleats, its all so beautiful. Something was bothering me about the skirt, and it took me a little while to figure out what, but I realized the waist is not angled correctly. The figures of the queens in the game are angled to the right, so waistlines should be angled that same way. The waistline you created is angled head-on, and since the rest of the queen’s body and dress is not, it looks off. If that detail was fixed, this dress would be perfect. As for the mug, I love these eyes for this look. I’m not in love with the lips, though - the bright coral color doesn’t match the rest of the burnt tones in this look. I think a softer pink or orange lip would’ve worked better. But, these small issues don’t distract from the overall look too much, making for a stunning and beautiful look overall. If the other two looks were as great as the third look, you would be in the top, but the third look isnt enough to save you from the bottom on its own.
Btch: Btch, throughout all your looks, I can tell you really focused on refinement and cohesiveness. The first look is fine. It is not particularly inventive or creative, but it is cohesive. Even the small details go together. I especially appreciate how the zippers on the skirt match the jacket zippers, as do the silver hair accessories. The skirt color perfectly matches the fur on the jacket, which is great. Originally, my biggest issue was that you used the “Legally Drag” top to do an Elle Woods look, but then you deleted that reference pic. In doing so, you also deleted the decade you were referencing, which was in the challenge prompt. I still know you were going for the early 2000s, because I can’t erase my memory and you originally said so, but without the reference, it doesn’t totally give early 2000s. Elle Woods was over the top with how much pink she wore, that’s why she stood out - its not like that was an early 2000s trend. I don’t feel like this outfit is particularly inventive, even without the reference pic. I am grateful, though, that you took my note about using sets and didn’t use the matching hair or skirt for this top. The hair was a nice way to put your own spin on this style, and it gives early 2000s, I just wish you had incorporated your own twist into this look more. I also think the skirt you resubmitted with works a lot better for this look than the original skirt you had. Overall, the look is cohesive and solid, but not particularly creative or unique. This second look of yours is super cute, and I’m glad you took the time to recolor and resubmit it. Changing the green for the red helped simplify and refine the look- its a small change with a big effect. I am a little tired of seeing this top used for 90s looks, but the recoloring and pants help make it feel fresher. The hair is super cute for this look, but its reminds me more of Black Panthers from the 60s/70s than the 90s. It just makes me really want a Black Panter look, and sad that you didn’t give that to me. A beanie or bucket hat would’ve fit the 90s more. The shoes are cute, but they don’t really mesh with the rest of the outfit because there’s not cheetah print anywhere else. I like the little ankle bracelets, and the red cheetah print is cute, but a solid color shoe would’ve worked better. They also could’ve worked if cheetah print was incorporated somewhere else in the outfit. Its a very cute, fun look, but a tad basic. On the flip side, this third look of yours is super fun and unexpected! I adore that you went for a masculine look. I’m not always crazy about masc looks in this game, but when it’s done right, they’re so good. And this is done soooo right. Those rich brown tones look so good, and that mug is so sexy. With your editing, the hat got a little fuzzy. The ribbon around the hat could be clearer; it kind of blends into the hat. Similarly, while I appreciate that you went back to change the colors of the bows on the shoes, since they are so dark now, they just look like a blur from afar. Additionally, I really wish you had edited the hat onto a more masculine wig. The beautiful hair and sparkling earrings ruin the hot man fantasy I desperately want. I know I’ve been harsh on your editing before, and I hope that’s not why you chose not to fully edit this look. I really wouldn’t care that you didn’t fully edit if the hair didn’t pull me out of the fantasy so much. The rest of the outfit is really great and beautiful, the shining light against the dark outfit is just stunning. This look very much feels like the 1800s, but I can’t judge its accuracy to a decade because you didn’t specify a decade, which was in the challenge prompt. The inspo pic you provided shows looks from a lot of different years, and they vary, so I would’ve liked to know which decade you were trying to emulate. Otherwise, I really enjoy this look, it’s a nice twist that I didn’t expect from you!
Miz Erie: Miz, you had some great ideas for this challenge, but the execution of each look fell a little short. Your first look is cute. A bit basic, but cute. The hair i really like, I could very much see someone in an early 2000s movie with this hair. Lots of denim was definitely a trend in the early 2000s, and I’m glad you brought that. What was not a trend in the early 2000s was big top little bottoms. That’s a more recent trend. Even putting that aside, I still don’t love the tiny skirt with the giant jacket. I really want some baggy pants to balance the look more. The recoloring on the skirt is really nice, it matches the jacket without blending in. I also like the recoloring of the shoes, they feel very early 2000s and pull in the pink from the top and thong. The mug is really nice too, these lips are perfect for this look are totally give early 2000s frosted lips. I am assuming you went for an early 2000s look though because you did not specify that, which was in the challenge prompt. For your second look, I’m very happy that you specified that this was showgirl look and not a flapper look, and provided some reference pics. The top, bottom and shoes look good together and definitely give 1920s showgirl. I get what you were trying to do with the headpiece when looking at your reference photos, but I don’t feel like it works. It doesn’t look fun or sparkly like the one in the photo do, and the harsh spikes bring down the playfulness in the rest the outfit. The Eyevie or So Raven wig would have matched the reference pics more and fit the rest of the outfit better. Part of my dislike for the headpiece may be because of the mug. She’s supposed to be a showgirl, but she looks so depressed, its making me sad. I just don’t understand why you went for such a sad face. For the rest of the outfit, while the top and bottom match colors and look good together in that regard, the nakedness of the top against the bottom doesn’t fully work for me. The skirt is a little slutty with the leg sticking out, but its waist is solid. She either needs to be wearing less clothes or more clothes. The shoes work really well, they’re subtle but the gold details are a nice touch. The idea is nice, but these issues bring the whole look down. Your third look is the best, but theres still some issues with it. I love the idea behind your 1850s look, and parts of it are really beautiful, but the execution fell short in a few ways. The combination of the top and dress is really nice, they come together to make a cohesive dress perfectly. There’s a slight editing issue with the wig though. On the left shoulder, one strand of hair is all choppy. The hanging bow ribbons are also choppy around the edges. I like that you changed the earrings on this wig, but they’re not actually connected to the ears. They’re just floating in the wig. The recoloring and editing on the dress is perfect, but I have a few other issues with it. The darkness in the middle looks unflattering, especially when the bust has that same pattern, but lighter. The gradient on the skirt should have been reversed. While the pattern is very pretty, its a lot to have it all over. If the bust was solid, it would make the dress less busy, and make the patterning stand out more. The pattern on the bows especially doesn’t help with the busyness; the pattern is too small on them to really be effective so they just look blurry and weird. Another issue I have with this look is that the wig doesn’t work for this dress. I know the top and wig are part of a set (which I don’t love that you used them together), but the simplicity of the wig and the fact that its hanging down doesn’t work with the fullness of the dress. An updo would’ve worked better, and been more accurate for the time period. The idea was really great, and the execution was almost there, but these issues make the look feel unfinished, and the same goes for the other two looks as well.
Absynthe, your simple looks really wowed me. You are safe. You used the Golden Fig on yourself, but since you are high/safe, it has no effect.
Liz, challenge after challenge, you just keep amazing me. Condragulations, you are the winner of this challenge!
B*tch, you are safe.
Raven, your 1800s look was stunning, but the other two were not. I’m sorry my love but you are up for elimination.
Miz Erie, your ideas were great, but your execution was not. You… are safe.
That means, Mistress Anna Conda, I’m sorry my love but you are up for elimination. Now, it is time for you and Raven to looksync for your life!
submitted by Violet-Flowersss to MissFiggysDragRace [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 22:29 s4ddo Am I the only one with relatively neutral overall thoughts on Lempicka?

Wondering if anyone else here felt similarly neutral, since most Redditors seem to either really love or really hate it?
Disclaimer: I won't pretend I'm an experienced reviewer in any way, but I didn't want to add "imo" or "I think" or "to me" every other sentence. I don't follow Broadway super closely and wasn't aware of anyone with ties to the show, incl performers.
Unfortunately one of the weakest aspects was the book, which seems like it'd be hard to fix at this point. The story idea could have lead to something great but I didn't like the flow between some scenes and some of the dialogue seemed strange or forced. I really wish we had gotten to know Rafaela more in terms of her background and why she thought the way she thought, why she did the things she did. I know some people didn't like the score but I personally thought it was exciting and there were some parts of certain songs were memorable to me. The lyrics, on the other hand, didn't particularly impress me.
I was quite moved by Eden Espinosa (Lempicka)'s acting, and her acting was one of the best parts of the show for me. The relationship between Eden and Andrew felt real and I really felt the chemistry between Eden and Amber as well. Unfortunately some of Eden's notes were noticeably flat and I found myself worrying if she'd be able to hit some of the high belted notes. Amber Iman (Rafaela)'s voice sounded so effortless, luxurious, and rich, and Andrew Samonsky (Tadeusz)'s singing was a smooth delight as well so the inconsistency of Eden's singing stood out. I did like Eden's vocal quality for the most part besides the pitch issue so I'm still holding out high hopes for a quality soundtrack.
George Abud (Marinetti) is clearly very talented and did well with what he had but Marinetti's impression was really hurt by the abrupt-seeming character arc. I was happy to hear Natalie Joy Johnson (Suzy)'s strong voice and her solo was great, even if some of her character's lines seemed excessive. Beth Leavel (the Baroness)'s acting felt so real and moving and I just wish she had had more time on stage and was able to sing more, especially earlier in the show. My only real complaint regarding casting is the daughter, who really slapped me awake from the authentic and immersive experience the rest of the cast was creating.
Some of the choreo was great, but some of it seemed random / odd and at times the arm and leg movements didn't seem to connect with each other well-- am I just missing some overarching reference to machines? It also would have been nice to see the main characters dance but maybe the actors aren't strong dancers or the choreographer felt like that would be a weird choice. Some of the choreography the ensemble was given was too distracting though compared to what the named characters were doing, although it was great to see an ensemble with such stage presence and clean movements.
Most of the costumes for the named characters were impressive but I didn't love the ensemble's costumes in certain scenes. I thought hair and makeup were both great. One small thing is that the Baron's glasses kept reflecting bright light into my eyes during one scene toward the end for some reason, was that just me or did other people have that issue too? I don't know any real details behind lighting techniques but I really enjoyed the colors of the lighting, and I loved how the animated light details that were part of the set (railings?) seemed to add magic to the bedroom scene. Some of the sets were forgettable or seemed out-of-place with regard to what was going on in the show but there were some really interesting ones as well. I also ended up liking their choice to have so many painting-less paintings even though it seemed weird at first watching people interact with empty frames.
TLDR; the show had a lot of strengths but also a lot of weaknesses so I have a slightly positive overall view of the show. I really wish they were given more time to run, as I would have loved to see it again in the future in hopes that it would have improved. I'm also sad they had SUCH a short run, since it's a new original musical and I'd take more of those over the surplus of the money-making musicals that are based on songs from other artists. But I guess that's just showbiz!
submitted by s4ddo to Broadway [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 22:27 lonelythesaurus The haters

This message is really for Norm and Kristin… I personally loved the John Brown episodes. I loved the length, the content, all of it. My son is majoring in history, and as I listened each week he and I would talk about what I heard. Of course, I didn’t teach him anything, but he’s so passionate about history it was fun to have that to talk about. In fact, he reminded me we saw his portrait at the National Portrait Museum in DC in February… I just didn’t know who he was at the time.
I also really enjoyed Kristen’s shorter topics. I’m in search of a Carry Nation photo to frame and put above my bar.
I hope other people will listen, even if the topic might not interest them at first (because of course the incredible story of John Brown would be boring to some people….) If they don’t listen, that’s ok too.
submitted by lonelythesaurus to letsgo2courtpodcast [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 22:06 ConfusedTenant117 Landlord had renovations done, my property was damaged.

Hey Redditors, First time poster
If this is in the wrong place, let me know and Ill remove it.
I was hoping some people here might be able to shine some light on my options here since I'm a relatively new renter and not sure what to do in this situation.
I currently rent with a roommate in a downstairs 'apartment' of a house that was crudely turned into a Duplex;
He has been renting this place to us as a 2 bedroom unit although my room for the lack of a better term would probably be considered a 'storage room' more then an actual bedroom;
Ive looked into what would legally be considered a bedroom. I have a door, the space is probably fine in terms of size, up until very recently it didnt have a ceiling (which we will get into), and there is no windows in the room at all. Not sure if this information matters, but I want to be as thorough as possible.
Here is where the story begins;
The tenants upstairs have been complaining almost weekly very recently about issues with the water pressure upstairs. We have been living here with them for close to 3 years and it hasnt been a problem until around the beginning of 2024.
Our landlord had sent in atleast 5 different contractors/plumbers/etc... to come take a look but none have given a definitive answer or solution. After a few more conversations, they want to expand the pipe coming to the house to see if that can solve the issues for water pressure and that they would be in contact about the work soon. That line runs right through my room so I would need to pull everything out.
A couple weeks goes by, we hear nothing...
Suddenly, the landord emails me and my roommate on Sunday March 28th, 2024 around 5pm that he has scheduled for work to start on Monday March 29th, 2024 in the morning (no forewarning at all). When we asked about timelines he told us he will be putting a ceiling in my room after the other work is done for the pipe and the work would be 3-4days.
So when I get home that evening, I pull all my things out of my room and into the living room. Only things left in my room are things that cant really be moved anywhere else or cant fit through the door. (Dresser, desk, and I put the bed frame up on its side and out of the way.)
They dont show up Monday or Tuesday at all. They finally show up Wednesday May 1st, 2024 to start the work. They are pretty much done work, just waiting on an electrician now (so he says) and I've been keeping track of things as they had been working and this is the sum up of events;
As you could probably guess, I'm not too happy about a lot of this so I decided to message my landlord yesterday evening and let him know some of my frustrations. Providing pictures and reasoning behind my concerns and offering to make myself available to speak about this either in person or over the phone, which ever is preferred.
He comes back and messages my roommate (not me directly) and says he will not be contacting me and said that my message was a 'threat' AND he is going to be charging us $150 starting in July because of the new house 'improvements'.
Honestly, I could get into alot of different things. Like the mould thats been all over the bathroom and part of the house since we moved in... or even the state of the house when we did initially move in was absolutely unacceptable. But that is a story for a different time and too much to get into here.
Ive attached pictures here of the message I sent to the landlord (censored to protect identities) and some of the pictures of the damage that I also sent to him.
So I am confused on what my plan of actions should be here. He didnt 'improve' anything in ours unit, he put a ceiling in my room and thats about it. There is still water pressure issues and only the guys upstairs got a new bathroom. I dont even think my room is a 'legal' bedroom but I'm not confident.
Do my messages seem threatening? I tried to be very articulate and firm about what my concerns are and that I am willing to speak about it. Does he have the right to just increase our rent like that? Does anyone have any suggestions? is this even worth pursuing?
submitted by ConfusedTenant117 to OntarioLandlord [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 22:04 MattHix63 What happened to Stories?

I haven’t made a video in a while. I just edited a bunch of clips and now want to combine them to make a longer video.
However, now I do not have the “Stories” option in the app. There is now a button that says “Edit”. When I tap that, it gives me an option to “Make a Video”. Perfect. But not really.
When I select the edited clips and they move to the video editing, they revert to the original unedited clip. None of the trimming or key frames etc are there. However if I go look back in my Album, the clips are all correct.
What am I doing wrong?
submitted by MattHix63 to Insta360 [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 21:44 SativaSapphira Timberland has gone down the toilet.

Every summer, I buy my toddler a new pair of Timberland sandals for summer time because they are the best. I normally buy the Adventure seeker sandals in various colors. He grows out of a pair every year so this year, I bought these sandals for my 4 year old back in February. We were having crazy nice weather in Iowa so I wanted to be proactive and get my kids' spring/summer attire asap if all the nice weather was going to continue. Well it didn't. It was super short lived. So in the shoe box they sat for the next few months. Fast forward to last Monday when it was finally warm enough outside for my son to wear these sandals for the first time, so I sent him to preschool in them. It rained for a little while that afternoon, then became sunny again and the kids were able to have recess outside. An hour after I dropped him off, I get a call from his preschool teacher telling me that one of the kids found pieces of the bottoms of my sons shoes all over on the playground. I couldn't believe what I was hearing Bc I had just taken them out of the box that morning.. There's no way. I paid $50 for those sandals! When I picked him up, to my horror, the entire bottom of both sandals were in fact missing and the shoes themselves were literally falling apart. See pics. Enraged, I contacted the shoe store who sold them to me, they tell me I've missed the window for their return policy and advised me to call Timberland as they were the ones constructing the sandals. So I did and long story short, after 2 hours on the phone, a weeks worth waiting to hear back after I sent them in to be looked at, i received a call from a customer service rep at Timberland stating that, upon investigation, the separation of the sole from the shoe was due to me "improperly storing the shoes in their box for longer than recommended timeframe, then immediately exposing them to wet conditions straight out of the box, which lead to the process of hydrolysis and was not a manufacturer defect, but an operator error. They refused to do anything about it basically saying it was my fault they fell apart when in fact, they were just cheaply constructed, using poor quality materials. Never in my life have I ever heard of such a thing as "keeping shoes in their box beyond recommended time frame" like, you've got to be kidding me!? I immediately jumped on Trust Pilot to see what others had to say... and the comments on there were quite shocking. Very similar complaints to mine. Pretty sad especially coming from a company that prides themselves on using 'high quality materials' to construct their shoes. Well, definitely Not the case here.... not anymore at least. What happened to these guys?? The fact that Timberland can treat their customers like this is beyond me. I use to have a very high opinion of Timberland... but not after this. What a complete waste. I will never buy from Timberland again.
submitted by SativaSapphira to Timberland [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 21:18 honeyricecakes Questions about selling an FJ / what it might be worth?

Hi FJ community!
I'm here with a couple of questions because sadly I need to sell my FJ, but I have some questions about what it might be worth given its condition.
For context, the car was my late father's that I inherited, and while I love the car so much it no longer its my lifestyle or budget considering the amount of work it needs to pass inspection this year. I've never bought or sold a car before, let alone one that people constantly tell me is "worth something" or "a collector's item" and I don't know how real that is / don't want to be duped out of money that might be on the table. It was my dad's favorite thing and it's hard to finally part with it, so I just know he'd want me to be smart about this. Any advice y'all could give me from the perspective of FJ lovers / FJ owners would be much appreciated!
Specs are down below for specifics but the long story short is that the car has frame rust damage that I don't want to pay to weld considering I don't drive the car much anymore. Google is telling me that to sell a vehicle that isn't passing inspection, I should post it on Craigslist as "a non road worthy vehicle" and essentially part with it for parts, but I'm concerned about pricing it wrong or doing that if there's a better way.
Given the specs below, does anyone have a gut feeling about how much this should be selling for? If it's not much, that's okay, but I could really use the money and don't want to make a mistake here. Also if anyone has any tips for selling a car in this condition, I'd appreciate the advice! Without my dad I'm flying blind with Google and there's a lot of conflicting info out there.
Specs:
Model: 2007 FJ, maroon with white top and roof rack Mileage: At/around 215,000, it's at the shop so I don't recall the exact number Interior Condition: Decent but could use detail cleaning, no actual 'damage' past normal wear and tear Normal Maintenance Needs: Likely needs some new brakes, rotors I'm not sure of Exterior Condition: Dented back bumper, but not significant just on one corner. The rest of the car body is fine, but the real damage is to the frame which has "significant" rust. I got one section welded and patched last year that got me through, but the mechanics tell me sections of the back bumper area are "rusted out" as well as part of the frame towards the front of the car. They said it's something that could "probably be welded" but at this point would probably cost more than I want to pay considering I drive the car maybe twice a month since moving to a city. (I do take the car out weekly to get things moving, but as far as real / highway drive time that's 2x a month now)
Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read and respond, I appreciate it!
tldr; Need to sell a 2007 FJ with frame rust damage and high mileage but not sure how to go about pricing that or doing that.... any advice welcome!
submitted by honeyricecakes to FJCruiser [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 21:02 icarebear2 i don’t think i want to be here anymore

multiple content warnings, i’m sorry, this will be long, this isn’t even everything and it’s a damn book i am 19. i was 11 when i had to grow up. my parents decided to divorce after months of fighting, letting us know a week before my 12th birthday. you know, the classic divorce story. my dad moved out and my mom started dating people. it moved so fast. we moved to a different area, even though we had just moved into a new house a year earlier, leaving my childhood hometown behind. my mom was trying to pursue school so we were living on student aid and stamps. (i have 3 siblings, so there were 5 of us) i started middle school in that area and was doing pretty well off. then my mom got pretty serious with someone i’m going to call SOB, he doesn’t deserve a name. my mom and SOB were dating for two months before that thing proposed to my mom. we met him once before he was labeled our step dad. my mom sat us down and told us we’d be moving to idaho to be closer to her family. come to find out, the whole reason for going there was because SOB is an ex convict and he couldn’t leave idaho because that’s were his parole was.
we were told at the time that he was framed for kidnapping and he had a whole story crafted to back it up. being a kid and needing my mom, i didn’t ask or dig about it. so we moved to idaho. i started school there and immediately got death threats. i got called a hoe relentlessly for seemingly being pretty. eventually things calmed down and i had friends, but that place was tiny and once people have formed an opinion of you, there’s no changing it, so it was hard to get around.
SOB was awful to my younger brother. we’ll call this brother zayn. zayn has bad adhd and has always struggled with school. he’s one of the smartest people i know, but getting assignments in is not his forte. so as a result he’s never had the highest grades. SOB hated the fact that my brother wasn’t doing great and would literally stand there and scream at him to get his work done. there was one time that i was in my room and i started to hear my brother screaming so immediately i’m upstairs to help him, SOB was literally chasing my brother around our house with a damn bat screaming at him like a demon was coming out. i yelled at him to leave my brother alone and things just got darker after that. me and my brother were scum to him and he ran our house like the hunger games. my other little brother and my older sister were prized jewels, they got everything they wanted and more, and SOB would rub it in our faces. he even gave my dog away, i went days worrying about her and looking because i thought she had ran away, to find out that some other person had my dog now and i wouldn’t ever get her back.
fasting forward a little, SOB violated his parole by going on a trip that wasn’t fully approved and got put back in jail right before christmas. my mom completely threw herself into trying to get him out. me and my sister noticed that my mom hadn’t gotten a single thing to be santa for my brothers, so we scraped up the money we had to get gifts so my brothers wouldn’t lose their christmas spirit seeing that santa didn’t come when things were already so bad as it was. i love that i was able to do this for them, the smiles on their faces, i will never forget that christmas.
after a long time of having a very absent mother, she was able to get SOB out of jail. he came back even worse of a monster then when he left. he sexually assaulted my mom, committed all kinds of fraud, basically stole all of my papa’s retirement money, the list goes on. my mom decided she wanted a divorce and when he found out, he went crazy. he locked all of us out of our house and threw our things on the lawn. it rained, i lost so many things, a one of a kind paper mache venitian mask i had gotten on a trip with my dad to italy included.
it’s 2020 by now and we went on a trip to Texas, to meet the person my dad was dating. on the trip, I very much learned that she was not for my dad. but, all reasoning was in vain. my dad proposed, and we had literally just met her. so that was that my dad was engaged now and focused on trying to move them out to him and getting a new house. my mom decided at that time that she wanted to move too so we had a choice, move to my dads and go back to the area i grew up in, or go with my mom to another ranch town in idaho. i chose my dads. my brothers came with, but my sister stayed with my grandparents where we lived in idaho so she could graduate.
things were fine for a bit. my mom was dating a lot and even got engaged. then she told us about this other guy she had been seeing, who had given her a 500 mile ride home from somewhere. immediately suspicious, especially because she wouldn’t drop a name. come to find out other guy was SOB. SOB proposes to her again and she’s got two engagement rings from two different people. everyone was like, what the actual shit are you doing. my mom was in a very cooky state of mind, broke things off with the other guy, and stayed with SOB. there was a weekend in september that my cousin had something going on so my extended family and everything was all there and we decided there needed to be some kind of intervention. to keep things short, it didn’t go well. my mom ended up leaving and she told me and my sister that she didn’t want to be our mom anymore. found out through facebook a couple days later that my mom and SOB were married.
then came the everlasting fun of a custody battle. my step mom had gotten into my dads head saying he needed to take full custody. now i wasn’t the biggest fan of my mom at the time, but that didn’t mean i never wanted to see her. my parents hated each other. there were a few times in exchanges that the cops ended up being called.
for a while my dad had pretty bad anger issues. low blood sugar, overstimulation, bad smells, anything could set him off. i just so happened to have a very large target on my back so i got the brunt of everything. i wouldn’t let him yell at my brothers and this resulted in me getting the lashings, but i would do it all again if that meant protecting my brothers. he wasn’t angry all the time, there were a lot of good days, but it was definitely pretty tortuous for a while. a lot of the problem, which i knew would happen to begin with, was my step mom. she is one of the laziest people i’ve ever known, which is the complete opposite of my dad. my dad likes to do things, he’s always active. so he was frustrated because he would want to do things with his wife there, and she would almost always refuse, so she could have a quiet day in bed. my step mom had also convinced herself that i was stealing from her. she ransacked my room multiple times, to no avail. she took my car keys ‘until she could prove i was taking things from her’ and i only got them back because they were sick of giving me rides places. she actually ended up stealing some of my things trying to claim they were hers, so she hid them and i haven’t seen them since.
so yeah i got yelled at a lot, accused of being a thief, and my relationship with my mom was shit + the joys of high school. i have been doing musical theater my whole life. when i first got to my new high school i was so excited because, although i wasn’t able to audition for the productions companies that year, the teacher told me i was a shoe in for the next year. she ended up leaving and we got a new teacher, if you can even call her that. so it’s my junior year, the first year with her, and it wasn’t bad, i got some good parts and did really well. i ended up getting nominated for an award for one of my performances and it was at this time, i don’t know what happened, but she did not like me anymore. she told me that she accepted the nomination for me, but i found out not too long later that she never accepted it and i was in favor to win so the judges were very puzzled by it. she accepted my friends nominations and kinda rubbed it in my face that i never got anything back. like’ awe are you sad because you didn’t hear anything from the judges? well so and so over here did😈’
the summer after that year i cut my hair pretty short. i wouldn’t say i’m not ‘girly’ but i definitely have a more masculine ‘bro’ persona comparatively. so now it’s my senior year, it matters a lot more at this point to try for good parts because it’s my last run. to keep it simple, my teacher wouldn’t cast me because i was too masculine, not even as a guy ?? idk make it make sense. i got one part my entire senior year, and i know it’s not because i’m bad. but i wrote and produced my own show that ended up being 100x the quality of the shows she produced, so i did get redemption. long story short, it really sucks to watch the peers your just as good as continue to succeed, while you get kicked out of the room for being distracting when you haven’t said a word. the reason they didn’t like me ? i’m good at improv, i kid you not i was told i was too creative and it bothered them. i know my presence scared the teachers there because i’m not a classic conformist theater kid that does anything and everything the teacher says.
anyways, so after years of trying to rekindle a relationship with my mom, fighting with an ass teacher and getting yelled at almost daily, a lot of worth questioning, and a flurry of weed later, i graduated.
both of my brothers in this time attempted to end their lives and were in facilities for a bit. i decided at that time to move in with my mom to hopefully help our relationship. it did a lot. me and my mom are best friends now. but it hasn’t been because of nothing. SOB had become the most controlling narcissistic asshole and my mom was just acting having any feelings for him so he wouldn’t take everything away from her. he monitored everything my mom did. he hit my mom in an intimate moment, and almost beat zayn, but i covered him and ended up slicing my arm open on our fireplace, once again i would do this 100 times over to protect my brother. i decided i wanted to dig everything up on him that i could. what i found was mortifying. i won’t go into too much detail, but there were a lot of charges, multiple of them being SA of a child. i vowed at that moment that i would do anything it takes to get him back behind bars. he’s actively on the offender list and he works across the street from a preschool, not on my fukin watch ass hat.
i will never forget the true terror on my moms face that that man caused. it got to the point where my mom would get really scared if she started crying because she knew he’d freak out at her if he noticed. i came back to my locked room, that i have the only key to, with holes in my walls in weird places, and in my bathroom too. a couple days before, my brother found a camera in his room, so i knew what it was and that SOB was spying on me. i taped them all up and came to stay at my bfs house and have been here since. after months of his treacherous cycle my mom had enough and left to a safe house, she’s there now. the divorce is going though but from some reason the stupid system denied my mom a protective order against him. he has full access to our house and things right now, and he’s trying to make 90,000 so he can baile his way out of the insurance fraud case against him that could get him back in jail in june. i’m so worried he’s selling my things because he so would. everything i have left is in that house and it’s all at his whim now.
when i moved in with my mom, i started a job at a fancy high end restaurant because i knew it would be good money. i’ve had problems with this my entire life, but ever since starting my job there, i have experienced countless creeps who have sexualized me in more ways then i thought possible. it’s made me feel so worthless. it’s people i work with and people who come in. drunk guys from the bar are the worst, and they’re all filthy rich so they don’t care about a thing in the world. i need to quit but i don’t know where else to go
my dad has now decided as of like two weeks ago, that he will be moving to florida. i never anticipated him moving across the country and leaving the last place i could call home. he also started therapy a couple months ago and his anger issues are pretty much nonexistent at this point. so i got my dad back but now he’s leaving again. i always hoped that as i got older, my family would always be pretty close, close enough that i could seem them once a week if i wanted. it’s really killing me because i was so close to that, to getting my family back. my sister has been in france the last couple years and she’s coming back in a couple weeks. my dad will be moving almost immediately after. we finally got to a point where my mom is free, my dad is happy, we’re all healing, and now my family will be broken up more then ever before by distance. my parents don’t hate each other anymore, my sister is coming home, we would all be able to spend time together again, never more.
so i’m at this point now, where i’ve been fighting for my family, taking every hit with hope in my heart for something i was so close to having, for 7 years i’ve been hoping. and just like that, the light at the end of this very long, cold and dark tunnel fades, and i’m left once again, in the cold dark nothingness that is hoping for a better day, that will never come.
so i’m left questioning, is overcoming another mountain worth it if there’s a whole range of painful climbing ahead of me? i’m so tired, my whole body hurts every day, my mind and soul are toiled with the pain of my lifetime, everyone in my family is moving on with their own paths and it’s only a matter of time before i’m only hearing from them every once in a while. i don’t want to do life, the world is so messed up right now and i don’t see it getting better. there’s too much pain and i can’t handle it. nothing seems worth hoping let alone living for anymore. i bid you adieu and wish you all the best 💗
submitted by icarebear2 to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 20:35 ghskdheu46829 A Comparison of 2 Different Games: How the edit is highlighting the pros and cons of ______'s and ______'s games right before the Finale

Kenzie and Charlie
I've seen some people recently asking for why many of us are thinking Kenzie's edit is so much better than Charlie's, especially in this final stretch before the finale. I believe these recent episodes are highlighting the strengths of Kenzie's game and the flaws of Charlie's game, both basically to the maximum, and here's a deeper analysis.
As others have said, considering Kenzie's game she's playing, there is absolutely zero reason for her to get this big of edit. They are HAMMERING home her social game literally every single episode atp, and it just would feel truly bizarre to me if they focus this much on her social game for it to mean nothing.
Personally for me, a pro tip I have learned with edgic is that if the edit consistently focuses on a certain player's social game, usually in a positive context as well, it's going to be extremely important. Kenzie's and Ben's relationship and her social game with him is so focused upon, that many of us have to feel it means something significant, and considering that Ben literally plays second fiddle to Kenzie in his own sob story packages, many of us are assuming it means more for Kenzie. Obviously the result could be something else, but many of us are thinking there's not really all that many options for it to mean anything other than Kenzie's social game being so clutch it plays a role in her primarily socially driven victory.
As for Charlie, yes he absolutely has a good edit, but as the season has progressed, many of us (myself included) feel his content is basically just essential to the season since his role in the strategy is essential to the game. Similarly, as Kenzie and her content feels as positively highlighted as possible, it really feels like the edit highlighting the negatives of Charlie's game as much as possible. From the ominous foreshadowing of Charlie saying that working with Maria and Q just one more vote could taint his image, and then basically making the Q vote look as messy as possible, they're absolutely making his positioning look as flawed as possible. The Q vote EASILY could have been framed as a triumph for Charlie, but instead the edit highlighted Charlie's incorrect reads all episode and showing that he could have basically idoled himself out if Maria's reads were any better lol.
It just feels to me that the edit is highlighting Kenzie's pros and Charlie's cons. Now, some will probably say that could point to Kenzie being a decoy, I'd be more inclined to agree if they had these edits earlier on. Usually, in the final few episodes before the finale, the winner is being highlighted in an extremely positive light. Usually there are no real decoys in the penultimate episodes, and the winner is usually shown in the best possible light. There obviously are exceptions, but I do feel this is primarily the case. And again, I can't get past how much The Q vote could have been framed as an absolute triumph for Charlie, but instead they really did undermine him as much as possible.
TLDR: In these final few episodes before the finale (which matters most to me) they're highlighting all the strengths of Kenzie's game when it's absolutely not necessary whatsoever, while showing all the negatives of Charlie's game, similarly feeling not necessary whatsoever
submitted by ghskdheu46829 to Edgic [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 20:33 Dogeisdank Star Wars Horror Fan Film.

Hello! I’m looking for a writer to help me conceptualize my idea for a Fan Film. We have a budget actors and costumes lined up, I am just terrible at dialogue.
LOGLINE: When presented with the opportunity to escape his life of crime in exchange for the delivery of highly dangerous information, smuggler David Cuaron (placeholder name) undertakes one last mission to finally prove his place in the universe; however, the operation quickly derails when he realizes that it’s far more terrifying than he could have possibly imagined.
I want to create a cautionary tale about the dangers of ambition, and how ego can deceive our will into believing that we are able to achieve beyond our capability. For the film, this comes in the form of our central character’s choices—at the start, he’s presented with two choices: to take a deal that will lead him to a peaceful life of humility, or to take a deal that will lead him to wealth, prosperity, and greatness. The contents of these transfers are not revealed to him, only the reward…and David fails to see beyond the blindness of his pride as he chooses prosperity over humility. He not only underestimates the danger of this choice, but also overestimates his own ability, and he quickly comes to realize that he’s in over his head when he’s hunted by a force unlike anything he has ever encountered before.
The Empire.
In many ways, this project began as a pitch to create a horror film within the Star Wars universe, and while the genre has shifted a bit, those elements still remain in how the stormtroopers are framed. We feel that the terror and fear of The Empire within the context of the grander universe is rarely showcased adequately, and we feel that we have an opportunity to lean into that element in a way that we don’t get to see often.
With this framing in mind, the bulk of the story is David’s ambition to reach his ship without being caught by the troopers. This comes with a multitude of beat potential—we want to create this feeling of dread and hopelessness as he progresses, with the troopers shot like these larger-than-life, unreal, unstoppable forces. This idea of a ticking clock as the troops continue to pour in the closer he gets, all while he becomes increasingly desperate and frantic. Several close encounters, near-death moments, intense and dreadful action.
With the ability of his will, he’s able to fight his way to the end, covered in wounds and injury—we want the audience to feel constantly paranoid, allow them to long for his survival almost as desperately as he longs for his own, carry them to the finish line with him, allow them the unbelievable relief that he has prevailed, until…he is stabbed through the chest by an Inquisitor, and all of his hopes and dreams escape from his eyes in an instant.
End
submitted by Dogeisdank to ProduceMyScript [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 20:18 Mudgrave_Flioronston [F4 Life Story #3] This frame with Doctor Doom being detained in the United Nations building is so funny

[F4 Life Story #3] This frame with Doctor Doom being detained in the United Nations building is so funny submitted by Mudgrave_Flioronston to Marvel [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 20:14 This_Conversation493 The Tempest Discussion

So, I finally got around to watching a production of The Tempest (The Globe's 2013 version starring Roger Allam, FYI), and I made some reflections on it that I wanted to write down.
Feel free to respond to any points and get a discussion going!
  1. Are we expected to root for Prospero from the beginning? Or, given historical context and the Romance genre's tragedy-comedy fusion, does Shakespeare expect our first impression to be that he's some tragic antihero? After all, the premise of the play is essentially that of a revenge tragedy, and early 17th century Britbongs weren't keen on magicians, as I understand it. Shakespeare also shows us Prospero's darkness with the opening tempest scene and the later comment on the storm, "Hell is empty, And all the devils are here" (1.2.252-3), plus his tormenting Alonso's party with the harpy vision in Act 3 Scene 3. Moreover, it's hard to root for Prospero in getting his dukedom back, since he freely admits to having been negligent and irresponsible, devoting his time to his magical studies.
  2. Relatedly, are we meant to take Prospero's framing of how he lost Milan in Act 1 Scene 2 at face value, or should we be critical of Prospero's authority to shape our perception of the play? After all, Prospero repeatedly lies and messes with other people's understanding of reality - his accusations against Ferdinand (1.2.541 onwards), his evasion of Ariel bringing up the promise he made to free him (1.2.290-354), getting Ariel to lie to Alonso and say his son is dead (3.3.93-4), etc. Moreover, Prospero's magic is fundamentally a power to conjure illusions and the play's story is him using misdirection and manipulation to get what he wants. Elsewhere in his work, Shakespeare seems ambivalent about usurpation - Claudius and Duke Frederick are evil, while Henry IV and Henry VII are the good guys - so I feel that, in principle, he could be leaning either way.
  3. Is the play just.... not very good and a really boring story? I've seen it argued pretty widely that the problem with The Tempest is there's no real conflict or struggle, in a narrative sense. Prospero has a goal of retrieving his dukedom and he just... does it, apparently without facing any real threats or hindrances. People usually identify the fundamental problem as being his magic - when Prospero wants something done, it's just "Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel. Come" and then Ariel does it "to the syllable". In the place of narrative conflict, there's spectacle. I feel particularly conflicted here because I loved reading The Tempest, but it just left me cold seeing it performed. Did I watch a dud production, or does it just not work on stage?
  4. Relatedly, Prospero's conversion to the path of forgiveness just felt unconvincing. It doesn't happen until literally the start of the final scene of the entire play, and the only reason he changes tune is because Ariel tells him how sad Alonso and his men look...? But Prospero literally watched the prior harpy episode first-hand, and seeing his magic distress Alonso's men didn't put pity in him or temper his wrath then. I guess since then he's had the entire "We are such stuff" monologue in Act 4, and thinking about mortality and impermanence has him questioning if revenge and strife are worth it...? But he immediately follows that monologue by using another vision to torment Caliban and co and declares "At this hour Lies at my mercy all mine enemies", so I have no idea what Prospero's thought process is.
  5. Likewise, the big confrontation at the end felt really anticlimactic. Especially since there's literally no confrontation between Prospero and Antonio, the person he most had it in for. Antonio literally gets a single line in Act 5 and it's just him making fun of Caliban, so what gives?
  6. For a final (potentially) weak plot point, the Caliban/Stephano/Trinculo rebellion is... frustrating. For one thing, why does Caliban want Stephano in power to replace Prospero - "I prithee, be my god" (2.2.155) - given that he's so adamant earlier that "This island’s mine by Sycorax, my mother" (1.2.396)? As I see it, there are three possible explanations, none of which feel convincing. First, you could explain it by Caliban being genuinely convinced Stephano's a god for his "celestial liquor"? But that's just not believable, since Caliban has met a literal wizard with magical powers he claims could control a god (1.2.448-9) yet whom he recognises to be a mortal human, so why is he suddenly so oafish as to be persuaded by Stephano's alcohol? That leads to the second sub-idea: Caliban got drunk, so he's not thinking straight. But the humour of this entire subplot is Caliban being sharper and more rational than the motley crew he's assembled to lead the rebellion, hence the eloquent, artful "The isle is full of noises" monologue and the pitiable scene of him trying to get Stephano and Trinculo to stay focused in Prospero's cell in Act 4 Scene 1. So, third and final explanation, maybe Caliban is pretending to worship Stephano as part of his own Prospero-esque manipulative scheme to get his homeland back? But, for one thing, he seems sincere when he laments "What a thrice-double ass Was I to take this drunkard for a god" (5.1.352-3). (Unless he's pretending in order to get mercy from Prospero?) For another thing, it doesn't feel like Shakespeare wanted me to think this hard and read between the lines with this subplot. It just feels like a silly bit of comic relief and that makes it frustrating.
  7. Finally, what's the deal with Caliban? I'm aware I'm opening a conversation here that many Shakespeare Redditors loathe, but is Caliban meant to be a human victim of colonisation, and are the references to him being a "monster" just abuse? Or is he a literal monster? My main gripe with the latter, more traditional reading, is that it seems to deprive The Tempest of one of the principal virtue's of Shakespeare's work, namely his penchant for complex, realistic, morally ambiguous characters. If Caliban is just an innately depraved beast who gets no humanisation beyond a brief, pretty soliloquy, then it makes him feel very flat. Going back to point 6, maybe this just the shallower comedy side of the play shining through? It also ties back to point 1 and whether or not Prospero is truly a "hero" in any conventional sense. Are there just good guys and bad guys in The Tempest? Or is it more mature than that?
submitted by This_Conversation493 to shakespeare [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 20:06 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 3)

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?
submitted by Flagg1991 to MrCreepyPasta [link] [comments]


2024.05.16 20:04 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 3)

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?
submitted by Flagg1991 to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]


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