My [26F] boyfriends [30M] kinks make me uncomfortable. Does this mean we are not compatible and should probably break up? Btw we’ve been together for 4 years and he’s the only relationship I’ve had.
My boyfriend has a kink for women in clothing and public play. It feels weird to say, but he likes it when girls are in skimpy clothing, in a bikini and doing anything sexy in public. Most of the porn he looks at is women on the beach clothed or unclothed.
This has resulted in me feeling uncomfortable going to places like the beach with him. A lot of girls wear thongs to the beach and this is a big kink of his. I definitely have some insecurity from other things he has done; he messaged nsfw and non nsfw posters on Reddit in the past trying to get attention from them, he has admitted that he does look at girls on the beach and other things.
I love going to the beach, but I feel weird being there while he ogles other women. I always wear a thong when going to the beach, so him being right next to me and looking at other girls makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable and unattractive. I have talked about it in the past and it doesn't seem like he is able to stop himself from looking. Is it time to admit that we just are not compatible and move on.

Re-installed Skyrim and trying to get Physics and everything work. Problem is, I am not getting any physics when using CBPC, but I do with HDT-SMP.
Here is the screenshots of all the steps and configures I have done, also ensuring proper priority handling.
https://imgur.com/a/uHHoqLS
I've build the body, I have made sure to have meshes and build morphs, I have made sure to select physics based clothing, but the issue also happens when no clothes.
​
I have reinstalled, done the presets, done the Nemesis stuff, etc. I am not sure what I am missing thats preventing any bounce, clothed or unclothed.

Day 34. I remember I was at my school, we seemed to be in a gymnasium getting biology classes. I remember seeing the teacher and the teacher’s assistant, who was a robot but spoke and looked human. (I remember interacting with her before in a different dream) Across from us was a board where she gave us instructions.
Behind the teachers, there was the school store, it had a stretched giant cat mouth outside the front as if trying to engulf the store from the outside, a design choice.
The store would only be present before school ends. There worked a lady that got angry easily. And everyday it somehow gets replaced with a class or another thing there.
I remember in the dream, I was first at the store then I got to class.
Then class started, I remember because it was dark, I took off my outer layers of clothing wanting to cuddle with it. I wasn’t unclothed here.
The teacher went up and wrote something and told us to use an equation to solve something. The board was in front of me but faced the other way so I tried to get up and see it.
I then saw the equation but i didn’t wanna be up there for too long so I forgot it straightaway.
But because it was dark I forgot to put on my sweatshirt, and as I stood there I realized I had no pants or anything below. Fearing that someone would see me, I quickly went back to my seat. It was quite dark so likely I was able to get away.
Several students had already solved it by the time I had tried to write the equation down. The teacher walked around saying who got it right or wrong.
She walked to my desk and said I got it right. She walked away. Then she came back and told me it was wrong because I only wrote the equation and haven’t solved it. Welp :(
Biology class was actually quite difficult and I struggled to understand the human facial anatomy. We had to add some bones, but because the diagram took me so long the teacher marked it out for me. She complimented my drawing, I then recognized that it’s the same drawing from a sketch I did outside of my dream. Over it she drew a bone that was horizontal in the face. I’ve never in my life seen anything like that.
Scene two.
We were at a police station or somewhere. People all spoke Russian there. My dad speaks Russian too so he was able to translate for me.
He told me to grab something, anything. I think it’s for acting. I grabbed the closest item near me, a sheet of white print paper. Held it like it was a gun and yelled “Get on the f-king ground!”
Everyone was confused, I was stared at. I explained that my dad told me to do anything, so honestly I was confused too and felt ashamed. It was kinda funny. Someone spoke in english saying that I was supposed to give them cigarettes, from that brown paper bag someone prepared.
So I said okay, I then took out the cigarettes and handed them to every person there, while I handed it out I saw a lady stare at me in displeasure (I remember her from a different dream as well) At some point I saw something round, yellow and dome shaped in my hand but I didn’t let it bother me. Someone else spoke, “that’s not a cigarette”, I looked down and saw a dome sponge cake. Another person said that they were preparing those from cakes, and forgot to filte separate them out.
Notes: I tried to portray my dream as accurate as possible and here’s the result I guess.

I'm nowhere near knowledgable in terms of legalese and proper citations, so I will quote the definitions of terms the best I can, if someone could correct me in my formatting, it would be greatly appreciated.
There's a lot of talk recently about the new bill brought by the Kansas State senate, SB 394, specifically Section (h)(3):

"Harmful to minors" means the same as defined in K.S.A. 21-6402, and amendments thereto

When cross-referencing K.S.A. 21-6402, many have brought concern over the wording of (d)(2)(C)(8):

"sexual conduct" means acts of masturbation, homosexuality, sexual intercourse or physical contact with a person's clothed or unclothed genitals or pubic area or buttocks or with a human female's breast; and

The term "acts of [...] homosexuality" has many people concerned about the potential of censorship of queer ideas from minors, however, when you read the initial portion of the subsection, (d)(2), it states:

"Harmful to minors" means that quality of any description, exhibition, presentation or repressentation, in whatever form, of nudity, sexual conduct, sexual excitement, [...]

This would mean that subsection (d)(2)(C)(8) (and the later (C)(9)) server as a simple legal clarification of the term? And doesn't the wording of (C)(8) imply that said "acts of [...] homosexuality" have to have a sexual purpose, specifically "...with a person's clothed or unclothed genitals or pubic area or buttocks or with a human female's breast;"?
Edit: And even besides all of this, if all this panic regarding this were to have a basis in reality, wouldn't there already be a precedent of queer people being charged with a class B nonperson misdemeanor (as stated in section (b) of K.S.A. 21-6402), due to the fact that K.S.A. 21-6402 is a codified statute in the law and has been for years?

20F here, I believe I'm doing really good for myself and it has also been reaffirmed to me enough times already especially in recent times. Overall? No issues with my face and figure, at least with clothing on.
However , I did struggle with weight gain as a teen and even though I've successfully worked through it, I've been left with quite a lot of stretch marks on my mid-lower body on top of scars. Sure it may not look like Wolverine went full on berserker on my skin but when I see other girls who don't struggle with that it damn well feels like he did lol. On top of that I also have a mild case of a skin condition called keratosis pilaris on my upper back and back of my forearms and although I've been trying my best to treat it , it doesn't want to go away.
Anyway , my general perspective is that I'm setting standards that my unclothed skin can't reach , basically like a false advertisement.
Feeling like when I eventually get with a guy and he catches glimpse of my body , he'll also think of catching the next bus ride back home or straight up do.
Obviously a guy who's not shallow and genuinely interested in you wouldn't do that and that's most definitely someone I would get with but then again I totally understand having standards for your partners.
Just want to know if even its really that big of a deal or I'm just making it one that's all.

By His Eminence Metropolitan Seraphim of Kastoria
In the Bishopric of the Holy Metropolis of Kastoria there is an icon of the Master Christ which dates to the 15th century and is known as "The Bethlehemite".
This title does not only come from the famous Bethlehem of Judea, the birthplace of Jesus Christ, but this title appears even in the famous Great Canon of Saint Andrew the Bishop of Crete, which is chanted according to ancient order on the Fifth Thursday of Great Lent.

Seeing Christ's healing temple opened, and how health streams from Him to Adam, the devil suffered and was stricken. Then he wailed as if in mortal danger and to his friends raised a bitter howl: 'What shall I do to the Son of Mary? The Bethlehemite is killing me, Who is everywhere present and fills all things.' 

This Canon, which according to Saint Andrew gives us the ways of compunction, has the following characteristics:

1. It shows us sin. In our Orthodox tradition, as Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos and Agiou Vlasiou writes, sin does not simply have a moral sense, but it is chiefly theological. Basil the Great calls it the alienation of the soul.

The God-bearer John the Damascene characterizes it as the departure from the good, that is, it is the presence of darkness and the lack of light. Other Fathers of the Church call it the unnatural state of the soul. Communion between man and God is natural, and the absence of this communion is the presence of darkness and thus sin.
It is the "other law", according to Saint Paul, the darkening of the mind and the unclothing of the abundant grace of the Holy Spirit. The clothing of the garments of skin, even, is nothing other than corruption and mortality. This was committed by Adam as a fruit of his false theosis, as was again stated by Saint John the Damascene.

1. The Great Canon presents us all with repentance. This means the awareness of the change of the natural state of the soul, that is, the awareness of sin and thus the return to God. Which is why they call repentance the safe road, despite the obstacles, which lead to purification and further on to illumination and theosis.

It is characterized as a moment of grace within the heart of man when the life-giving grace of God comes to man, and reveals to man the dreadful situation which dominates the inner world of our soul and prepares it to return to God. This is not a formal confession, as we unconsciously do during the days of our great feasts, but a complete change. It is a turn in a different direction in order to get rid of the passions.
Self-awareness will help us in our repentance, as well as humility and primarily the mercy of God. This is why David characteristically said: "Your mercy, O Lord, will follow me all the days of my life."

1. The third thing Saint Andrew shows us in his Great Canon is the philanthropy of God. God is "good and the lover of mankind", the "fullness of love, compassion and philanthropy". He is the One who waits and persists till the last moment the return of His deluded sheep. He is the One who forgives and rewards even till "the eleventh hour".

To Him do we resort and we ask of Him His mercy and His grace. And if we are clergy of every grade, if we are rulers or ruled, whatever position we possess in society, we need to live this repentance and return with humility and tears to God, and with the sacred hymnographer we also repeat:

I have sinned, offended and rejected Thy commandment, for I have advanced in sins and added wounds to my sores. But in Thy compassion have mercy on me, O God of our Fathers. 

Source

By His Eminence Metropolitan Seraphim of Kastoria
In the Bishopric of the Holy Metropolis of Kastoria there is an icon of the Master Christ which dates to the 15th century and is known as "The Bethlehemite".
This title does not only come from the famous Bethlehem of Judea, the birthplace of Jesus Christ, but this title appears even in the famous Great Canon of Saint Andrew the Bishop of Crete, which is chanted according to ancient order on the Fifth Thursday of Great Lent.

Seeing Christ's healing temple opened, and how health streams from Him to Adam, the devil suffered and was stricken. Then he wailed as if in mortal danger and to his friends raised a bitter howl: 'What shall I do to the Son of Mary? The Bethlehemite is killing me, Who is everywhere present and fills all things.' 

This Canon, which according to Saint Andrew gives us the ways of compunction, has the following characteristics:

1. It shows us sin. In our Orthodox tradition, as Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos and Agiou Vlasiou writes, sin does not simply have a moral sense, but it is chiefly theological. Basil the Great calls it the alienation of the soul.

The God-bearer John the Damascene characterizes it as the departure from the good, that is, it is the presence of darkness and the lack of light. Other Fathers of the Church call it the unnatural state of the soul. Communion between man and God is natural, and the absence of this communion is the presence of darkness and thus sin.
It is the "other law", according to Saint Paul, the darkening of the mind and the unclothing of the abundant grace of the Holy Spirit. The clothing of the garments of skin, even, is nothing other than corruption and mortality. This was committed by Adam as a fruit of his false theosis, as was again stated by Saint John the Damascene.

1. The Great Canon presents us all with repentance. This means the awareness of the change of the natural state of the soul, that is, the awareness of sin and thus the return to God. Which is why they call repentance the safe road, despite the obstacles, which lead to purification and further on to illumination and theosis.

It is characterized as a moment of grace within the heart of man when the life-giving grace of God comes to man, and reveals to man the dreadful situation which dominates the inner world of our soul and prepares it to return to God. This is not a formal confession, as we unconsciously do during the days of our great feasts, but a complete change. It is a turn in a different direction in order to get rid of the passions.
Self-awareness will help us in our repentance, as well as humility and primarily the mercy of God. This is why David characteristically said: "Your mercy, O Lord, will follow me all the days of my life."

1. The third thing Saint Andrew shows us in his Great Canon is the philanthropy of God. God is "good and the lover of mankind", the "fullness of love, compassion and philanthropy". He is the One who waits and persists till the last moment the return of His deluded sheep. He is the One who forgives and rewards even till "the eleventh hour".

To Him do we resort and we ask of Him His mercy and His grace. And if we are clergy of every grade, if we are rulers or ruled, whatever position we possess in society, we need to live this repentance and return with humility and tears to God, and with the sacred hymnographer we also repeat:

I have sinned, offended and rejected Thy commandment, for I have advanced in sins and added wounds to my sores. But in Thy compassion have mercy on me, O God of our Fathers. 

Source

Hi, friends! Many words have many different meanings depending on context, so here is a glossary of how we in Eitra and Emi use words in our panels. These definitions may not be yours or the most standard, but they're the ones we found that best get the points across that we are trying to get. This glossary is not meant to tell you how to use these words or claim right or wrong ways.
Note: We use the words we use because we find that they are easiest to translate and easiest to understand culturally. Different cultures and different subsets of cultures use the same words in vastly different ways, and some definitions have changed in some cultures and not in others, so these kinds of distinctions are important. We are trying to reach the greatest crowd we can, and readability is a priority, even if some people don't prefer some definitions.

• ABDL - Adult Baby, Diaper Lover. A headspace kink involving playing with infantile themes, usually using some or all of the following: vulnerability, helplessness, sensory items, bathroom control, food control, diaper-wearing, and exposure to cute things. A fetish for ADULTS, where no actual minors should be present.
  
• Age-play - A fetish around the theme of pretending to be an age and acting out stereotypes related to the age. May be acting like someone older or younger.
  
• Autoandrophilia - A fetish involving a person pretending to be male, and specifically sexually attracted to the fantasy or idea that they are a male and have male primary and secondary sex characteristics.
  
• Autogynephilia - A fetish involving a person pretending to be female, and specifically sexually attracted to the fantasy or idea that they are a female and have female primary and secondary sex characteristics.
  
• BDSM: A 6-part acronym: Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism. BDSM is a type of fetish that usually involves all or most of these themes. The fetish tends to involve one or more people submitting to, receiving intense stimulation from, and being disciplined and/or bound by one or more other people.
  
• Bondage - Being tied or wrapped up. Could be for aesthetics, function, suspension, partial or full incapacitation, etc.
  
• Bottom - A person who is recieving action in a scene. (For penetrative sex, this would be a person receiving penetration).
  
• Breast - The fat tissue and/or mammary glands located on the pectoral muscles, regardless of if this tissue is developed (adult female breasts) or not (standard male breasts). We will generally use this to refer to developed breasts, though, and may specify "chest" to refer to undeveloped breasts or a chest area that mostly or completely lacks breast tissue and fat, like after a full mastectomy.
  
• Breathplay - Fetish involving changing the way a person can breath, either by covering their breathing holes (nose and mouth), putting pressure on the throat or chest to restrict breathing, or exposure to unbreathable things (like water) or things that smell bad (like bad smells).
  
• Choking - Can be used synonmously with "Breathplay", but might be used to specifically refer to strangulation (external pressure on the throat).
  
• Cis: A person who is comfortable being or being perceived as their sex (even if they do not approve of the cultural stereotypes and tropes assigned to or forced on their sex).
  
• Clitoris - An organ in the female body that sits in front of the vagina, with lobes that wrap around the vaginal entrance and a small lobe that pokes out in the vulva.
  
• CNC: Consensual Non-Consent. This is a fetish in which one or more people pretend to not be consenting to the situation. This can range from the receiver teasing/challenging the giver, to the receiver fighting the giver away a little bit, to the receiver requiring themselves to be completely incapacitated.
  
• Consent - The choice to do something. (Informed consent: The choice to do something with the knowledge of exactly what it is and what it entails and what the risks are).
  
• Dominant - A person who is directly guiding a situation.
  
• Female - The initial biological reproductive pathway evolved around the production of ovum, regardless of if that person can actually produce or gestate ovum. Generally dictated by a male SRY gene being not present or present and never active during initial development.
  
• Fetish - We tend to use this interchangeably with "kink", but it's not supposed to be. Generally, we refer to this as a theme that stimulates the senses in a pleasing and adult manner. (Adult here meaning complex in a way that requires a developed brain, not inherently sexual).
  
• Gender - A personal identity regarding percieved sex (the sex you would like to be seen as), or a social identity based on the roles, aesthetics, and stereotypes generally assigned to sexes in a particular culture.
  
• Headspace - Deeply putting your thoughts into one direction, such as if you were pretending to be someone, trying to focus on how they would think and feel.
  
• Intersex - Also known as Disorder of Sexual Development. A condition in which the initial sex devolpement of a person malfunctioned. This is not a third sex, multi-sex, or a non-sex. The person has a sex, either male or female depending on initial SRY gene presence or behaviour, but the development for the body to end up producing either healthy sperm or ovum failed due to the sex-designation signals getting mixed up or not working. Usually correlates with health problems, either minor or serious, since the sex genes of the body play a role in a good deal of body development.
  
• Kink - We tend to use this interchangeably with "fetish", but it's not supposed to be. Generally, we refer to this as a particular thing that stimulates the senses in a pleasing and adult manner. (Adult here meaning complex in a way that requires a developed brain, not inherently sexual).
  
• Male - The initial biological reproductive pathway evolved around the production of sperm, regardless of if that person can actually produce sperm. Generally dictated by a male SRY gene being present and active during initial development.
  
• Man - A person who is comfortable being perceived as male or fitting the gender generally assigned to males (even if they do not approve of the cultural stereotypes and tropes assigned to or forced on their sex). Masochist/masochism - A person who enjoys giving intense stimulation (doesn't have to be pain).
  
• Penis - The external male genital and urethral organ located in front of the testicles. Includes shaft, head, and foreskin.
  
• Pet-play - A fetish or headspace kink around the theme of pretending to be a particular animal and acting out stereotypes related to the animal. No actual animals are involved.
  
• Prostate - An organ in the male reproductive system located near the rectum that releases some of the fluids that go into semen. Since it needs to know when you ejaculate so it can know when to release these fluids, it is wrapped in orgasm nerves, and stimulation of it can be a trigger for orgasm. -Rape - Having sex with someone when they don't consent. Usually refers to specifically penetrative sex or actions that specifically involve stimulating the genitals. Can be done to males or females.
  
• Sadist/sadism - A person who enjoys receiving intense stimulation (doesn't have to be pain).
  
• Sensual - Stimulating the overall senses.
  
• Sex (noun- "A person's sex") The biological reproductive pathway of a body. That is, the way the entire body initially develops regarding the goal of reproductive ability and the maintenance of the gonads (ovaries or testes). (Regardless of if the development completes, malfunctioned, or if that specific person wants to reproduce, since even if the gonad does not function, your entire body still developed toward its maintenance. Also regardless of any alterations someone has made to their visible sex via transition or other means, since those don't cause the person's body to be able to produce or independently maintain the opposite sex). (We also use "male-bodied/female-bodied" to refer to sexes distinguished from the gender, and in lieu of the terms "Assigned male/female at birth/ AMAB/AFAB" out of respect for the DSD/Intersex community).
  
• Sex (verb- "To have sex")- The act of at least two people in which both know the act is occurring, and in which at least one of their genitals is stimulated by the other. (So, jerking off to porn of someone online doesn't count unless they know about it and are actively engaging with you).
  
• Sex (Perceived) - The sex (n) that someone can reasonably presume you are by looking at you (clothed or unclothed). (Regardless of if you actually are that sex).
  
• Sex (Altered) - The result to your natal sex (n) after you've taken actions to attempt to change it. The altered natal sex won't be identical to the unaltered opposite sex, and will come with specific needs and concerns and health risks. (Despite the differences, though, you should still culturally be respected as the gender with which you identify in any way that isn't relevant to your specific sex).
  
• Sexual - Stimulating the sexual senses specifically (sexual is sensual, not all sensual is sexual).
  
• Strangulation - Breathplay that specifically involves external pressure to the throat or chest.
  
• Submissive - A person who is indirectly guiding a situation (via letting the other person guide, and deciding to follow or not follow the guidance).
  
• Top- A person who is giving action in a scene. (For penetrative sex, this would be a person penetrating).
  
• Trans - A person who does not want to be perceived as their sex to some extent. Could be due to traits inherent to that sex, correlating their sex with trauma, the gender assigned to their sex, or another reason.
  
• Vagina - The muscle-lined organ of the female reproductive system located inside the vulva. It appears externally as a hole, but is actually a complicated system of muscles and nerves that provides a connection between the cervix and the external body.
  
• Vers - Regarding tops and bottoms, this is someone who prefers to do both (both being the actor in a scene and the receiver of action).
  
• Vulva - The external parts of the female genitals. Generally includes the vaginal (vagina's) opening, the labia, the external nub of the clitoris, and the urethral opening.
  
• Woman - A person who is comfortable being perceived as female or fitting the gender generally assigned to females (even if they do not approve of the cultural stereotypes and tropes assigned to or forced on their sex).
  

And you receivers—and you are all receivers—assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
I don't want your debt. It weighs on me. Because what would you do out of a feeling of indebtedness?
Why do you doubt that you are my equal in all the things that actually matter?
I made a list when I was single, of all of the qualities I would want in a partner. These aren't hard-and-fast principles (because we all make mistakes), but general values and qualities I hoped for in a partner. That I prayed for in a partner. This is a 12-step exercise to help you examine the qualities you wish to attract in a partner by having the qualities yourself.
You are every single one of them.
I'm sorry I don't look at you and see your value in dollar signs. I value your work ethic and desire to work for us and our future though. You're going to have to be okay with that if you want to marry me. But I don't want to marry you if your indebtedness is what spurs your loyalty.
You feel unworthy and you aren't. You ask why my family and friends haven't asked me whether I am dating 'below' me. Because I'm not. Nobody would ever question it because they see the way I look at you. They see the way you cherish me.
There are things far more valuable than money. I had to pursue the career I did as a single mother. Not because I'm ambitious and not because I didn't f-k up in my lifetime. I would argue that I had more support to be able to do this because I was a single mother, and baby--you got shafted in a lot of ways when you were younger.
I didn't understand how much I could love someone until I loved you. And I love you absolutely. I feel bolder because you have my back--and I refuse to allow anyone or anything to divide us. We are well matched, you can't deny this.
I worry that when you talk about feeling indebted that you aren't with me for the right reasons. So I refuse your indebtedness. Between friends, strangers, co-workers--that might fly. But not me, snowpea. There is too much love and mutual support between us for that. If you must look at it transactionally--look at it as an investment. You are worth it and I would go through all of the past year again, willingly, because in the end I have you.
I feel gratitude toward you; not debt. And I hope that someday you'll see all of the things you have given to me that have nothing to do with your paycheck. I know you are anxious. And I know you doubt yourself (I have that character trait too). Have faith that we will have everything we need in due time.
You are a gift And you have been everything I needed since you came into my life. You are my best friend. My #1 hype man. My protector--my lover. All of the things I doubt in myself, I feel I can do with you, for you, and for us. I believe in you and have faith in you, babes.
And on a side note--I don't initiate with you because I am simply physically turned on. It isn't just sex to me and never has been with you. At first it was a gift, because I already loved you and it seemed like it would heal something that you were struggling with. And you are attractive, no matter how much you deny it. I think your eyes caught me first (I even thought you were handsome in our platonic years). It's an expression of love for me and one of my favorite things is to be wrapped in your arms--whether clothed or unclothed.
Any rate, I hope you slept well. I prayed for you tonight, as I do every night. And thank you for telling me what you've been struggling with. You are enough--always. But I hope I'm not too much for you to accept.
I release you of your debt and I will love you no matter what you do with that freedom.
I love you, I respect you, and I'll protect you from yourself if I have to.
\m/

I am not attracted penis or vagina at all, but I do like boobs and how an ass looks in clothes (guy or girl) I do not like the way it looks unclothed.

Following on from my previous post about being naked/looking at your body.
(♀️ for reference)
I try not to look in the mirror at all. Like clothed or unclothed it doesn't matter. There's a mirror above the sink and whenever I'm brushing my teeth I always look down and there's a mirror in my bedroom and I've positioned it so it only shows me from the chest down. I've got no selfies on my phone or on any social media.
My step dad offered to put a spare mirror on my door but I said no cos I'd see myself and he asked why and do I think I'm ugly or something. I'm like ".... 🤷🏼‍♀️"
I project an image of what I wish I looked like and looking in the mirror would just break that illusion.
I've thought about posting on am I ugly but that would include taking a picture of myself.

Following on from my previous post about being naked.
(♀️ for reference)
I try not to look in the mirror at all. Like clothed or unclothed it doesn't matter. There's a mirror above the sink and whenever I'm brushing my teeth I always look down and there's a mirror in my bedroom and I've positioned it so it only shows me from the chest down. I've got no selfies on my phone or on any social media.
My step dad offered to put a spare mirror on my door but I said no cos I'd see myself and he asked why and do I think I'm ugly or something. I'm like ".... 🤷🏼‍♀️"
I project an image of what I wish I looked like and looking in the mirror would just break that illusion.
I've thought about posting on am I ugly but that would include taking a picture of myself.

In the planet wide city of Vitoriosa, one month before Sanguinalia, as every year, the recruitment letters for the imperial guard were sent out. In the next week, all of the planet’s citizens of 22 standard cycles waited tensely, their one cycle of possible conscription from where none of the lower classes ever returned. Chloe Alosi opened the envelope, not that she needed to. She knew what it was, and the fate of those who destroyed it, or even those for whom it was simply lost in the post, was execution. She had a little under a month to say goodbye to her friends before she would be shipped out, never to see her two children or any others of her building again. She was the only one recruited she knew; it would be a new world for her. But that was the future, she still had a month of work at the smelting plant before then.
//////
Named to celebrate a victory in the neighbouring system, the system of Vitoriosa was founded as recently as M40, and rapidly industrialised into a bursting hiveworld. Its nearest planet to the sun is an Agri-world that grows wheat baked into hard, tasteless biscuits. The second planet, the system capital, was a sprawling city thousands of levels tall, provided masses of industry and manpower from mined asteroids throughout the system. Its four ice moons are used to grow a dull mushroom, that goes with a vitamin tablet and recycled product to form the majority of the planet’s diet, one can of mixed mushroom and recyc with four biscuits the size of a small sheet of paper combined, and two min-vit tablets per day. With a population of over one trillion, the world can easily endure sending one hundred million Vitorian soldiers to the guard, every year, without fail, and they do, five hundred regiments of two hundred thousand soldiers. For reasons of pure accountancy bookkeeping, they are requested to be sent to the toughest warzones, and any soldiers left alive after two years are sent to a penal regiment, to enable their number to be reused. The troopers are chosen as a random single percent of the population aged 22 cycles at the one day of annual recruitment. Their high-ranking officers, the illegitimate offspring of the planet’s nobility, they however get to return home and be accepted as full sons and daughters of their house, teaching the next generation of officers.
//////
Chloe Alosi celebrated Sanguinalia as she normally did, coming home from her reduced staff shift and celebrating with a usual dinner. Public transport was closed for the day as it always was, beside one use, and this time, she would be using it. She celebrated, drank, hugged, kissed and cried with her friends and her two children, before the ominous sound of the bus horn outside called her to go. She picked up the small bag of toothbrush, underwear and a handful of personal effects she had prepared and walked out to join the guard.
//////
The duty of creating a regiment fell to a randomly selected noble family. However, to the matriarch of the Rapinette family, it seemed well timed to scupper her business interests. As indeed it was likely planned to have been. Fortunately, however, she was better placed than most to raise an officer corps. She would need four hundred officers from noble houses, but her many years of both happy and unhappy marriages would provide plenty of recruits as she scanned the list supplied by her servitor-maid. Although hard financial times a hundred years prior had led to her strangling a few of her potential sources of wider illegitimate family and casting out the babies to the streets, and an attempt on her life had led to her killing six of her staff and her second eldest son only a few years prior, between her eight other legitimate children and the grandchildren of her own affairs she could easily muster at least the four hundred officers needed especially thanks to her preparedness, and her fourth son’s extremely promiscuous nature. She could easily spare two hundred and fill the senior roles and allow minor houses to offer with payment their own, rather than demand them and pay herself. She looked down the list, and looked to see who the commander would be, simply whoever was highest on the list but not important to the business. Karmenu Roncali. She remembered Roncali as one of the maids, who had been a favourite of her younger brother. The child was indeed useful, and she had been wise to wait. But she also remembered what had come next, enjoying the power at a primal level as the maid was found drowned in a bath she had been enjoying with her lover, it seeming a good time to get rid of him as well. She scanned down the slate, marking off those overseers who were too important in their factories, leaving two hundred eligible recruits as she passed the dataslate to another and returned to her wine. Other houses would pay a pretty penny for the chance to get their officers in or give them free. She didn’t much care. With any luck that would recoup the cost of the regiment, and even a regiment recruited and equipped cheap was still relatively expensive.
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Chloe Alosi was crammed with thousands of others in the hall as she snaked amongst the mass towards the door. They were all eclectically dressed, some in party-style dresses or silly costumes, some clearly having been interrupted in more personal scenarios, some like her in exercise wear or office wear and some in work uniforms as she felt a hand press tight against her in the throng of the crowd. She turned around to try and hit the woman responsible, but it was too densely packed for her to raise her arms as she glared backwards, carried along in the motion of the crowd of men and women packed together. Eventually she reached the barrier system, taking the small chip given to her and stepping into the booth, alone, same as the one from when she had left education at 16. She placed the chip in the reader, her hand on the pad and looked to the camera. It recorded her for the wall of heroes and reprogrammed the chip to display her identity and currently non-existent service record. The computer beeped to report to 23-3, and opened the far gates as she walked through them and followed the signs, passing several clusters of rooms towards the 23rd battalion zone. Once she arrives, there was a room with five large blocks of one hundred spots on it, and she was directed to stand on the next available one in the third section, midway back. Slowly the hall filled up with five hundred freshly conscripted troopers, block one and three women, and the other three men. A training officer, in an officer’s uniform stood at the front and shouted, amplified by a megaphone.
“Attention all soldiers. as of this moment, you are under military discipline. Disobedience means death.” There was silence. The man spoke again. “When an overseer gives you an order, you say ‘Yes, overseer’.”
“Yes, overseer!” they all responded as he urged them to go louder,
“Uniform will be issued to all units in turn, until then, we train in whatever you arrived in,” he said as he gestured to a board, to learn ranks. This had been covered when they were in education, as had some basic drill, but it was there as a reminder.
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The dominating factor in the equipment selected for the Vitoriosa regiments, is price. Though the planet manufactures large amounts of high-quality military equipment, it is expensive, and the family tasked to raise a regiment must pay for all of its uniforms and equipment. There is a minimum standard set, after one family tried to send an unarmed and unclothed unit to the imperial guard, both in terms of average soldiers, and of elite soldiers. However, some foundings like that of the Calleja family in m41.678 showed that even a regiment extremely well equipped is likely to be lost in combat at an alarming rate, that regiment in particular being wiped out inside two days fighting against Aeldari forces. In addition, D’Amato showed in his influential paper ‘Advice on the cost-benefit of regimental equipment’, that the cheapest legal regiment, whilst less effective against rebels, pirates, and t’au forces, was around equally effective against chaos forces, eldar and necrons, albeit not very effective in any case, and much more effective cost per unit than tyranid and Ork threats. As such, most regiments are fielded as the bare minimum regiment, and the optimisation of this standardised production has both made the houses producing such military equipment very rich, and the costs of deviating have markedly increased.
Regulations on the minimum perfectly match the issued uniform to the basic troops. This consists of a pair of trainers in the white colour of the fabric used with orange sections, and a bodysuit with two stripes up the sides of the legs in orange. There is an orange belt around the waist, and two bands at the end of the short sleeves, with two squares on the suit chest with name and company designation. No armour is provided, ostensibly to improve movement, no helmet to increase vision and awareness and the earpiece issued to each soldier has no microphone, as they do not need to issue orders, and those privates who do, should be within audible range of their charges. However, all of these are really to save costs and many uniforms are returned and reconditioned rather than new uniforms. Each soldier has their electronic identity chip sewn into the collar of their suit, allowing easy identification, and its nickname of the ‘suicide suit’ is very much deserved. The material used is a strange fabric that is relatively absorption resistant, ensuring that most blood does not permanently stain the suit more than a little.
Elite troopers get a better, more padded suit that is totally void sealed, with sound mufflers, and a large covering helmet with faceplate and a heads-up display, which allows them to see name and rank information on passing troops. It is all powered by the larger backpack, which contains the power for the display, their vox units, and their weapons, namely a hotshot marksman rifle of immense power and rate of fire closer to a hellgun. They are provided armour over the upper torso, though this is primarily to, in consort with the sacrificial protection of a body inside, protect the backpack and its expensive equipment. They also carry knives, smoke, frag, and krak grenades, a number of heavier, primarily melta weapons, and hotshot marksman rifles.
By contrast, the overriding factor in the weapons of the regular soldiers is cost. A cheap power cell firing a large volume of lower power shots, in a polycarbonate frame and with the minimum of parts, to keep down costs. Each soldier is also issued two magazines that clip to the belt, and stealing additional from the dead is common. Besides the lasguns, there are no other weapons issued, although across campaigns various knives and other melee weapons are often acquired, and turned a blind eye towards, along with looted heavier infantry arms.
Any officer who is from the ranks is equipped the same as they were as a trooper, although they must swap their lasguns for a pistol of the regular or hotshot variety. However, high born officers are a different story, uniformed in boots, trousers and a military jacked, in white with large black areas on the sides and down the centre of the chest and arms, orange detailing present only in logos and some other details. These officers are also armed with pistols and have access to bulky eyepieces to read chips, as well as dataslates and the other accoutrements of command. They do not go into the field and lead personal charges, they sit in a room, trench or tent with some numbers.
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On the first day, they had been sorted into the one group to receive extra training, the extra fitness group. Chloe Alosi had spent a long time exhausted through training and waking up at 4 to do two hours of physical fitness had not helped. She was exhausted all the time. But she didn’t dare complain, not after the first day. One girl, who hadn’t paid attention to the draft papers, had arrived in heels, and refused to run either in them, or barefoot. She had been given one chance to reconsider, refused, and been shot for insubordination. That had shaken them into line well. As the instructors said, death by the enemy was possible, but by execution was certain. After three days, they had been sent to receive uniforms, and her sports clothes and shoes had been handed in to be recycled and sold again on the open market. She walked to the next station, a machine that pressed to her stomach and gave her a brief strange internal sensation, before she moved on again, and received her uniform, the white and orange trainers and bodysuit. As she did, she passed the style area, where those who wished to have hair shaved or cut shorter did so before she found her spot and removed her piercings, also to be sold on for the profit of the regiment raising family. She clipped the computer chip inside the right collar, and pulled on the tight uniform, the so called ‘suicide suit’. She lined up the heartbeat monitor to her thigh as she straightened the suit out. At least hers was new, she had seen others who had repaired old suits, and she imagined it was unnerving to wear a garment which had been patched over the heart, and whose previous occupant had been dumped out and recycled with the suit steam cleaned to be free of the previous victim’s guts, as Chloe zipped up her own fresh suit. It didn’t fit very well, the six sizes of tall, medium and short in small and large, not well matched to a girl who was halfway between small, short and medium large. The uniforms stretched over time, apparently. Not that it made her any more comfortable now.
The letter station was next, affixing her surname and unit number onto the small chest patches, as she walked out of the area a soldier, assigned to the 4-3 squad, 3rd company, 23 battalion, 4th group. Beside it was a small badge, the logo of the 337th regiment, her regiment. She put in her earpiece, Chloe looked in the shiny white walls, the surface reflective. Private third-class Alosi, 337th 4-433 4-3 looked back. Weapon issue was next, and then they would be ready to be shipped out.
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Given the threats they face and their conscript nature, morale is an issue for the poorly trained and equipped privates of the Vitoriosa regiments, far more than a commissar can fix. Whilst the frontline is a little of a wild west in terms of styles, the large numbers of local volunteers given the execute authority over privates often acts to smoot things over, with commissars tending to cluster around the high-born officers, those likely to sacrifice lowborn troops unwisely to save themselves. However, most battles place execution casualties at around one in two hundred killed, rising to one in sixty in the vanguard of some units.
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Gregor Balzano had been training as one of the so-called elites for three months, since he volunteered for the unit. He was about to take one of the final tests, elimination. He was one of the elites, a thicker uniform and an armour plate over the upper torso, if only to protect the electronic backpack from heavier rounds. This test was simple, and one of the most highly anticipated. In the room, one of the conscripts who had failed some test or other was told to move around and search for a box similar to one shown outside in a dark and smoky area of the facility. But there was no box. Instead, an elite soldier was to sneak in, and eliminate them silently, and with no blood. This would also sort out those who were not killers. Gregor had never killed before, and this would be a brutal, personal way to break that duck. He stalked through the shadows, hearing where the target was. His display showed his lack of a rifle, his grenade counts on his belt. It also displayed a small dot on the screen in front, where his eyes pointed. As they reached the vicinity of his wandering target, they read the chip. Pompea Gasan was searching for this box, wandering nonchalantly but relatively alert, two small traps placed to scare her into a facsimile of what a base guard would be. ‘Innocent’ didn’t come into the equation; he may not have killed before but he followed his training. This girl had not volunteered, she was lesser than him. Then she had compounded her weakness by failing some test or other. Gregor took two steps up behind and murdered her without hesitation. The sound-meter only picked up a small spike, no louder than clearing a throat, a near perfect kill.
Having dumped the body for recycling, Gregor wandered out back towards his barracks. He stood over a railing, watching the company below practice its shooting. They were terrible shots, even with the terrible weapons they were issued. One of them caught his eye, a girl brushing back a curl of loose fiery orange hair as she took aim, lying on the mat, her ill-fitting tight uniform showing her rather nicely. He checked the chip. Chloe Alosi. Pretty for a lesser girl, he would see if he could have fun with her before she became another of the hundreds of lesser men and women slaughtered every moment of battle.
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The regiments are organised in squads of 20, with 16 privates third class split into groups of five led by privates second class, one of whom was a private first class and unit leader, with five such squads in a company, which in turn contained a command group of an overseer, a communications private and three sub-overseers. Beside the communication soldier, they all have execute authority over any privates. Each company is of a single sex, but five such companies form a battalion in any combination, which has the standard command team, of company commander, company communications private, company logistics, company casualty, company co-ordination, and company elite commander, the last officer commanding five, fifteen strong elite teams. 400 battalions of five such companies, organised further into 5 army groups of 84 battalions, with groups assigned tasks at the regiment commander level. In each group, there are sixty frontline battalions, the remaining 20 regular battalions have no elite section, but are used as a reserve, for logistics and as casualty replacements, with their elites concentrated in four elite battalions, each battalion numbered thus 1 through to 84. The battalion commander is the lowest highborn officer, with that rank the limit of what was possible for a combat promotion of a volunteer, and in the rarest and most extreme circumstances, a conscript. However, they would not be issued new uniform, and were thus instantly recognisable and easily replaced. Commanding the unit is the same team of roles as for the company battalion and group level, but instead of the four reporting staff privates at battalion and nineteen at group level, there were now a reserve battalion reporting directly to each and in charge of their unit. Every lowborn, however, is trained as a private, and expected to carry out that role if required, even those working as staff or technical experts. 200,000 men and women stand ready in the 337th Vitoriosa infantry, to die for the emperor.
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Colonel Karmenu Roncali stood on the dias with his command staff and the senior army group officers. In front of him, the 337th regiment stood ready, two hundred thousand ready to die for the emperor. He lifted the microphone, millions of citizens watching on television. He raised the microphone to speak as he swelled with pride. His regiment, and his shot to establish his own noble house, as he had always dreamed. He had kissed his wife goodbye that very morning, and now she would be watching. In two years, he would return, and they would be happy together.
PTC (Private third class) Chloe Alosi wasn’t listening as she stood to attention in her cluster of five. She was back left, the five arranged like a dice. In the centre, the unit leader, PSC (private, second class) Elisa Ginies stood tall, the taller woman assigned their leader more or less at random, based on some tests whose results they didn’t really know or understand and marked with a small orange bar halfway down the short sleeves of her uniform. The rest were all the same rank as her. To her right, Alyssa Biasini’s curls brushed over her shoulders, the perfect military bearing obvious from a side-eye glance as she stood bolt upright and arrow straight, a model private. In front of her, the seductive curves of Kailey Scalpello, who had already drawn in a number of the men from fourth battalion as the textbook pretty blonde used her looks to get all kinds of favours from those around her. Lastly, Hannah Maurin, on the far corner, the big burly woman barely fitting her uniform but invaluable as one of the strongest women in the unit, her multiple piercings removed but her short blue hair kept from before she joined. Supposedly, she had fought in some sort of underground fight club, but she wasn’t talking about it, and had wiped the floor in hand-to-hand training. Alosi looked back up the dias as the speech ended, and she prepared to march off. In time with the whole parade, she raised her right arm horizontal in front of her, fingers outstretched as she rotated her wrist three times and brought her hand up for a salute.
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Most military commanders of Vitoriosa command from the ‘officers textbook of practical combat’, often known simply as ‘the book’. This contains two sections, a short pamphlet issued to all soldiers and dealing with what the common soldier needs, and a much larger second section, of the rules and guidelines for an officer, generally based on battalion and above level. This is mainly directions on the assignment of troops to certain objectives, and ideas on force economy and cost benefit engagements. The most common sections are often known by heart, especially short rules such as the tunnel/bunker complex assault calculation and the general advance covering barrage information. With the book, most officers conduct the war in a similar manner, aiding uniformity.
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Chloe Alosi looked from the window as she saw the vast emptiness of space for the first time, lucky enough to be assigned here for the arrival. There was a little blue speck about the size of a marble, a whole planet. The ship shuddered. It did that occasionally, but she had become used to it. She looked to her squadmates on guard with her. The five disparate characters about to have an amazing adventure together.
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Message to Lord general Griem.
The Vitoriosa 337th infantry have arrived in system for deployment. 200,000 men and women stand ready to die for the emperor wherever you command. I also wish to express my personal anticipation at the upcoming campaign and serving beside you.
Colonel Karmenu Roncarli, 337th Vitoriosa.
Victory, for the Emperor!

I’ve been struggling with my earthy life. I so badly want to go to my heavenly home instead of being here. Today I prayed that the Lord may take me home, away from everything in this world. I’m tired and weary of this all. But then I felt bad for saying that. I realized that he has blessed me with a life, and how crazy is it that I want to so easily abandon this one. I trust in my Heavenly Father, and I trust that he has a reason for me to still be here. Glory be to God, the one who is Holy.
He has put 2 Corinthians 5:1-10 in front of me, and reassured me with his hope and faith. Maybe this can help anyone else who is struggling with the same thoughts.
2 Corinthians 5:1-10
Awaiting the New Body
5 For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. 2 Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, 3 because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. 4 For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. 5 Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.
6 Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7 For we live by faith, not by sight. 8 We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9 So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. 10 For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.

After about an hour he got himself under better control, and saw that he was far from the city. All around him stretched the bleak emptiness of salt marshes, while the narrow road ahead led to Innsmouth—that ancient, half-deserted town which Arkham people were so curiously unwilling to visit. Though the northward pull had not diminished, he resisted it as he had resisted the other pull, and finally found that he could almost balance the one against the other. Plodding back to town and getting some coffee at a soda fountain, he dragged himself into the public library and browsed aimlessly among the lighter magazines. Once he met some friends who remarked how oddly sunburned he looked, but he did not tell them of his walk. At three o’clock he took some lunch at a restaurant, noting meanwhile that the pull had either lessened or divided itself. After that he killed the time at a cheap cinema show, seeing the inane performance over and over again without paying any attention to it. About nine at night he drifted homeward and stumbled into the ancient house. Joe Mazurewicz was whining unintelligible prayers, and Gilman hastened up to his own garret chamber without pausing to see if Elwood was in. It was when he turned on the feeble electric light that the shock came. At once he saw there was something on the table which did not belong there, and a second look left no room for doubt. Lying on its side—for it could not stand up alone—was the exotic spiky figure which in his monstrous dream he had broken off the fantastic balustrade. No detail was missing. The ridged, barrel-shaped centre, the thin, radiating arms, the knobs at each end, and the flat, slightly outward-curving starfish-arms spreading from those knobs—all were there. In the electric light the colour seemed to be a kind of iridescent grey veined with green, and Gilman could see amidst his horror and bewilderment that one of the knobs ended in a jagged break corresponding to its former point of attachment to the dream-railing. Only his tendency toward a dazed stupor prevented him from screaming aloud. This fusion of dream and reality was too much to bear. Still dazed, he clutched at the spiky thing and staggered downstairs to Landlord Dombrowski’s quarters. The whining prayers of the superstitious loomfixer were still sounding through the mouldy halls, but Gilman did not mind them now. The landlord was in, and greeted him pleasantly. No, he had not seen that thing before and did not know anything about it. But his wife had said she found a funny tin thing in one of the beds when she fixed the rooms at noon, and maybe that was it. Dombrowski called her, and she waddled in. Yes, that was the thing. She had found it in the young gentleman’s bed—on the side next the wall. It had looked very queer to her, but of course the young gentleman had lots of queer things in his room—books and curios and pictures and markings on paper. She certainly knew nothing about it. So Gilman climbed upstairs again in a mental turmoil, convinced that he was either still dreaming or that his somnambulism had run to incredible extremes and led him to depredations in unknown places. Where had he got this outré thing? He did not recall seeing it in any museum in Arkham. It must have been somewhere, though; and the sight of it as he snatched it in his sleep must have caused the odd dream-picture of the balustraded terrace. Next day he would make some very guarded inquiries—and perhaps see the nerve specialist. Meanwhile he would try to keep track of his somnambulism. As he went upstairs and across the garret hall he sprinkled about some flour which he had borrowed—with a frank admission as to its purpose—from the landlord. He had stopped at Elwood’s door on the way, but had found all dark within. Entering his room, he placed the spiky thing on the table, and lay down in complete mental and physical exhaustion without pausing to undress. From the closed loft above the slanting ceiling he thought he heard a faint scratching and padding, but he was too disorganised even to mind it. That cryptical pull from the north was getting very strong again, though it seemed now to come from a lower place in the sky. In the dazzling violet light of dream the old woman and the fanged, furry thing came again and with a greater distinctness than on any former occasion. This time they actually reached him, and he felt the crone’s withered claws clutching at him. He was pulled out of bed and into empty space, and for a moment he heard a rhythmic roaring and saw the twilight amorphousness of the vague abysses seething around him. But that moment was very brief, for presently he was in a crude, windowless little space with rough beams and planks rising to a peak just above his head, and with a curious slanting floor underfoot. Propped level on that floor were low cases full of books of every degree of antiquity and disintegration, and in the centre were a table and bench, both apparently fastened in place. Small objects of unknown shape and nature were ranged on the tops of the cases, and in the flaming violet light Gilman thought he saw a counterpart of the spiky image which had puzzled him so horribly. On the left the floor fell abruptly away, leaving a black triangular gulf out of which, after a second’s dry rattling, there presently climbed the hateful little furry thing with the yellow fangs and bearded human face. The evilly grinning beldame still clutched him, and beyond the table stood a figure he had never seen before—a tall, lean man of dead black colouration but without the slightest sign of negroid features; wholly devoid of either hair or beard, and wearing as his only garment a shapeless robe of some heavy black fabric. His feet were indistinguishable because of the table and bench, but he must have been shod, since there was a clicking whenever he changed position. The man did not speak, and bore no trace of expression on his small, regular features. He merely pointed to a book of prodigious size which lay open on the table, while the beldame thrust a huge grey quill into Gilman’s right hand. Over everything was a pall of intensely maddening fear, and the climax was reached when the furry thing ran up the dreamer’s clothing to his shoulders and then down his left arm, finally biting him sharply in the wrist just below his cuff. As the blood spurted from this wound Gilman lapsed into a faint. He awaked on the morning of the 22nd with a pain in his left wrist, and saw that his cuff was brown with dried blood. His recollections were very confused, but the scene with the black man in the unknown space stood out vividly. The rats must have bitten him as he slept, giving rise to the climax of that frightful dream. Opening the door, he saw that the flour on the corridor floor was undisturbed except for the huge prints of the loutish fellow who roomed at the other end of the garret. So he had not been sleep-walking this time. But something would have to be done about those rats. He would speak to the landlord about them. Again he tried to stop up the hole at the base of the slanting wall, wedging in a candlestick which seemed of about the right size. His ears were ringing horribly, as if with the residual echoes of some horrible noise heard in dreams. As he bathed and changed clothes he tried to recall what he had dreamed after the scene in the violet-litten space, but nothing definite would crystallise in his mind. That scene itself must have corresponded to the sealed loft overhead, which had begun to attack his imagination so violently, but later impressions were faint and hazy. There were suggestions of the vague, twilight abysses, and of still vaster, blacker abysses beyond them—abysses in which all fixed suggestions of form were absent. He had been taken there by the bubble-congeries and the little polyhedron which always dogged him; but they, like himself, had changed to wisps of milky, barely luminous mist in this farther void of ultimate blackness. Something else had gone on ahead—a larger wisp which now and then condensed into nameless approximations of form—and he thought that their progress had not been in a straight line, but rather along the alien curves and spirals of some ethereal vortex which obeyed laws unknown to the physics and mathematics of any conceivable cosmos. Eventually there had been a hint of vast, leaping shadows, of a monstrous, half-acoustic pulsing, and of the thin, monotonous piping of an unseen flute—but that was all. Gilman decided he had picked up that last conception from what he had read in the Necronomicon about the mindless entity Azathoth, which rules all time and space from a curiously environed black throne at the centre of Chaos. When the blood was washed away the wrist wound proved very slight, and Gilman puzzled over the location of the two tiny punctures. It occurred to him that there was no blood on the bedspread where he had lain—which was very curious in view of the amount on his skin and cuff. Had he been sleep-walking within his room, and had the rat bitten him as he sat in some chair or paused in some less rational position? He looked in every corner for brownish drops or stains, but did not find any. He had better, he thought, sprinkle flour within the room as well as outside the door—though after all no further proof of his sleep-walking was needed. He knew he did walk—and the thing to do now was to stop it. He must ask Frank Elwood for help. This morning the strange pulls from space seemed lessened, though they were replaced by another sensation even more inexplicable. It was a vague, insistent impulse to fly away from his present situation, but held not a hint of the specific direction in which he wished to fly. As he picked up the strange spiky image on the table he thought the older northward pull grew a trifle stronger; but even so, it was wholly overruled by the newer and more bewildering urge. He took the spiky image down to Elwood’s room, steeling himself against the whines of the loomfixer which welled up from the ground floor. Elwood was in, thank heaven, and appeared to be stirring about. There was time for a little conversation before leaving for breakfast and college, so Gilman hurriedly poured forth an account of his recent dreams and fears. His host was very sympathetic, and agreed that something ought to be done. He was shocked by his guest’s drawn, haggard aspect, and noticed the queer, abnormal-looking sunburn which others had remarked during the past week. There was not much, though, that he could say. He had not seen Gilman on any sleep-walking expedition, and had no idea what the curious image could be. He had, though, heard the French-Canadian who lodged just under Gilman talking to Mazurewicz one evening. They were telling each other how badly they dreaded the coming of Walpurgis-Night, now only a few days off; and were exchanging pitying comments about the poor, doomed young gentleman. Desrochers, the fellow under Gilman’s room, had spoken of nocturnal footsteps both shod and unshod, and of the violet light he saw one night when he had stolen fearfully up to peer through Gilman’s keyhole. He had not dared to peer, he told Mazurewicz, after he had glimpsed that light through the cracks around the door. There had been soft talking, too—and as he began to describe it his voice had sunk to an inaudible whisper. Elwood could not imagine what had set these superstitious creatures gossiping, but supposed their imaginations had been roused by Gilman’s late hours and somnolent walking and talking on the one hand, and by the nearness of traditionally feared May-Eve on the other hand. That Gilman talked in his sleep was plain, and it was obviously from Desrochers’ keyhole-listenings that the delusive notion of the violet dream-light had got abroad. These simple people were quick to imagine they had seen any odd thing they had heard about. As for a plan of action—Gilman had better move down to Elwood’s room and avoid sleeping alone. Elwood would, if awake, rouse him whenever he began to talk or rise in his sleep. Very soon, too, he must see the specialist. Meanwhile they would take the spiky image around to the various museums and to certain professors; seeking identification and stating that it had been found in a public rubbish-can. Also, Dombrowski must attend to the poisoning of those rats in the walls. Braced up by Elwood’s companionship, Gilman attended classes that day. Strange urges still tugged at him, but he could sidetrack them with considerable success. During a free period he shewed the queer image to several professors, all of whom were intensely interested, though none of them could shed any light upon its nature or origin. That night he slept on a couch which Elwood had had the landlord bring to the second-story room, and for the first time in weeks was wholly free from disquieting dreams. But the feverishness still hung on, and the whines of the loomfixer were an unnerving influence. During the next few days Gilman enjoyed an almost perfect immunity from morbid manifestations. He had, Elwood said, shewed no tendency to talk or rise in his sleep; and meanwhile the landlord was putting rat-poison everywhere. The only disturbing element was the talk among the superstitious foreigners, whose imaginations had become highly excited. Mazurewicz was always trying to make him get a crucifix, and finally forced one upon him which he said had been blessed by the good Father Iwanicki. Desrochers, too, had something to say—in fact, he insisted that cautious steps had sounded in the now vacant room above him on the first and second nights of Gilman’s absence from it. Paul Choynski thought he heard sounds in the halls and on the stairs at night, and claimed that his door had been softly tried, while Mrs. Dombrowski vowed she had seen Brown Jenkin for the first time since All-Hallows. But such naive reports could mean very little, and Gilman let the cheap metal crucifix hang idly from a knob on his host’s dresser. For three days Gilman and Elwood canvassed the local museums in an effort to identify the strange spiky image, but always without success. In every quarter, however, interest was intense; for the utter alienage of the thing was a tremendous challenge to scientific curiosity. One of the small radiating arms was broken off and subjected to chemical analysis, and the result is still talked about in college circles. Professor Ellery found platinum, iron, and tellurium in the strange alloy; but mixed with these were at least three other apparent elements of high atomic weight which chemistry was absolutely powerless to classify. Not only did they fail to correspond with any known element, but they did not even fit the vacant places reserved for probable elements in the periodic system. The mystery remains unsolved to this day, though the image is on exhibition at the museum of Miskatonic University. On the morning of April 27 a fresh rat-hole appeared in the room where Gilman was a guest, but Dombrowski tinned it up during the day. The poison was not having much effect, for scratchings and scurryings in the walls were virtually undiminished. Elwood was out late that night, and Gilman waited up for him. He did not wish to go to sleep in a room alone—especially since he thought he had glimpsed in the evening twilight the repellent old woman whose image had become so horribly transferred to his dreams. He wondered who she was, and what had been near her rattling the tin can in a rubbish-heap at the mouth of a squalid courtyard. The crone had seemed to notice him and leer evilly at him—though perhaps this was merely his imagination. The next day both youths felt very tired, and knew they would sleep like logs when night came. In the evening they drowsily discussed the mathematical studies which had so completely and perhaps harmfully engrossed Gilman, and speculated about the linkage with ancient magic and folklore which seemed so darkly probable. They spoke of old Keziah Mason, and Elwood agreed that Gilman had good scientific grounds for thinking she might have stumbled on strange and significant information. The hidden cults to which these witches belonged often guarded and handed down surprising secrets from elder, forgotten aeons; and it was by no means impossible that Keziah had actually mastered the art of passing through dimensional gates. Tradition emphasises the uselessness of material barriers in halting a witch’s motions; and who can say what underlies the old tales of broomstick rides through the night? Whether a modern student could ever gain similar powers from mathematical research alone, was still to be seen. Success, Gilman added, might lead to dangerous and unthinkable situations; for who could foretell the conditions pervading an adjacent but normally inaccessible dimension? On the other hand, the picturesque possibilities were enormous. Time could not exist in certain belts of space, and by entering and remaining in such a belt one might preserve one’s life and age indefinitely; never suffering organic metabolism or deterioration except for slight amounts incurred during visits to one’s own or similar planes. One might, for example, pass into a timeless dimension and emerge at some remote period of the earth’s history as young as before. Whether anybody had ever managed to do this, one could hardly conjecture with any degree of authority. Old legends are hazy and ambiguous, and in historic times all attempts at crossing forbidden gaps seem complicated by strange and terrible alliances with beings and messengers from outside. There was the immemorial figure of the deputy or messenger of hidden and terrible powers—the “Black Man” of the witch-cult, and the “Nyarlathotep” of the Necronomicon. There was, too, the baffling problem of the lesser messengers or intermediaries—the quasi-animals and queer hybrids which legend depicts as witches’ familiars. As Gilman and Elwood retired, too sleepy to argue further, they heard Joe Mazurewicz reel into the house half-drunk, and shuddered at the desperate wildness of his whining prayers. That night Gilman saw the violet light again. In his dream he had heard a scratching and gnawing in the partitions, and thought that someone fumbled clumsily at the latch. Then he saw the old woman and the small furry thing advancing toward him over the carpeted floor. The beldame’s face was alight with inhuman exultation, and the little yellow-toothed morbidity tittered mockingly as it pointed at the heavily sleeping form of Elwood on the other couch across the room. A paralysis of fear stifled all attempts to cry out. As once before, the hideous crone seized Gilman by the shoulders, yanking him out of bed and into empty space. Again the infinitude of the shrieking twilight abysses flashed past him, but in another second he thought he was in a dark, muddy, unknown alley of foetid odours, with the rotting walls of ancient houses towering up on every hand. Ahead was the robed black man he had seen in the peaked space in the other dream, while from a lesser distance the old woman was beckoning and grimacing imperiously. Brown Jenkin was rubbing itself with a kind of affectionate playfulness around the ankles of the black man, which the deep mud largely concealed. There was a dark open doorway on the right, to which the black man silently pointed. Into this the grimacing crone started, dragging Gilman after her by his pajama sleeve. There were evil-smelling staircases which creaked ominously, and on which the old woman seemed to radiate a faint violet light; and finally a door leading off a landing. The crone fumbled with the latch and pushed the door open, motioning to Gilman to wait and disappearing inside the black aperture. The youth’s oversensitive ears caught a hideous strangled cry, and presently the beldame came out of the room bearing a small, senseless form which she thrust at the dreamer as if ordering him to carry it. The sight of this form, and the expression on its face, broke the spell. Still too dazed to cry out, he plunged recklessly down the noisome staircase and into the mud outside; halting only when seized and choked by the waiting black man. As consciousness departed he heard the faint, shrill tittering of the fanged, rat-like abnormality. On the morning of the 29th Gilman awaked into a maelstrom of horror. The instant he opened his eyes he knew something was terribly wrong, for he was back in his old garret room with the slanting wall and ceiling, sprawled on the now unmade bed. His throat was aching inexplicably, and as he struggled to a sitting posture he saw with growing fright that his feet and pajama-bottoms were brown with caked mud. For the moment his recollections were hopelessly hazy, but he knew at least that he must have been sleep-walking. Elwood had been lost too deeply in slumber to hear and stop him. On the floor were confused muddy prints, but oddly enough they did not extend all the way to the door. The more Gilman looked at them, the more peculiar they seemed; for in addition to those he could recognise as his there were some smaller, almost round markings—such as the legs of a large chair or table might make, except that most of them tended to be divided into halves. There were also some curious muddy rat-tracks leading out of a fresh hole and back into it again. Utter bewilderment and the fear of madness racked Gilman as he staggered to the door and saw that there were no muddy prints outside. The more he remembered of his hideous dream the more terrified he felt, and it added to his desperation to hear Joe Mazurewicz chanting mournfully two floors below. Descending to Elwood’s room he roused his still-sleeping host and began telling of how he had found himself, but Elwood could form no idea of what might really have happened. Where Gilman could have been, how he got back to his room without making tracks in the hall, and how the muddy, furniture-like prints came to be mixed with his in the garret chamber, were wholly beyond conjecture. Then there were those dark, livid marks on his throat, as if he had tried to strangle himself. He put his hands up to them, but found that they did not even approximately fit. While they were talking Desrochers dropped in to say that he had heard a terrific clattering overhead in the dark small hours. No, there had been no one on the stairs after midnight—though just before midnight he had heard faint footfalls in the garret, and cautiously descending steps he did not like. It was, he added, a very bad time of year for Arkham. The young gentleman had better be sure to wear the crucifix Joe Mazurewicz had given him. Even the daytime was not safe, for after dawn there had been strange sounds in the house—especially a thin, childish wail hastily choked off. Gilman mechanically attended classes that morning, but was wholly unable to fix his mind on his studies. A mood of hideous apprehension and expectancy had seized him, and he seemed to be awaiting the fall of some annihilating blow. At noon he lunched at the University Spa, picking up a paper from the next seat as he waited for dessert. But he never ate that dessert; for an item on the paper’s first page left him limp, wild-eyed, and able only to pay his check and stagger back to Elwood’s room. There had been a strange kidnapping the night before in Orne’s Gangway, and the two-year-old child of a clod-like laundry worker named Anastasia Wolejko had completely vanished from sight. The mother, it appeared, had feared the event for some time; but the reasons she assigned for her fear were so grotesque that no one took them seriously. She had, she said, seen Brown Jenkin about the place now and then ever since early in March, and knew from its grimaces and titterings that little Ladislas must be marked for sacrifice at the awful Sabbat on Walpurgis-Night. She had asked her neighbour Mary Czanek to sleep in the room and try to protect the child, but Mary had not dared. She could not tell the police, for they never believed such things. Children had been taken that way every year ever since she could remember. And her friend Pete Stowacki would not help because he wanted the child out of the way anyhow. But what threw Gilman into a cold perspiration was the report of a pair of revellers who had been walking past the mouth of the gangway just after midnight. They admitted they had been drunk, but both vowed they had seen a crazily dressed trio furtively entering the dark passageway. There had, they said, been a huge robed negro, a little old woman in rags, and a young white man in his night-clothes. The old woman had been dragging the youth, while around the feet of the negro a tame rat was rubbing and weaving in the brown mud. Gilman sat in a daze all the afternoon, and Elwood—who had meanwhile seen the papers and formed terrible conjectures from them—found him thus when he came home. This time neither could doubt but that something hideously serious was closing in around them. Between the phantasms of nightmare and the realities of the objective world a monstrous and unthinkable relationship was crystallising, and only stupendous vigilance could avert still more direful developments. Gilman must see a specialist sooner or later, but not just now, when all the papers were full of this kidnapping business. Just what had really happened was maddeningly obscure, and for a moment both Gilman and Elwood exchanged whispered theories of the wildest kind. Had Gilman unconsciously succeeded better than he knew in his studies of space and its dimensions? Had he actually slipped outside our sphere to points unguessed and unimaginable? Where—if anywhere—had he been on those nights of daemoniac alienage? The roaring twilight abysses—the green hillside—the blistering terrace—the pulls from the stars—the ultimate black vortex—the black man—the muddy alley and the stairs—the old witch and the fanged, furry horror—the bubble-congeries and the little polyhedron—the strange sunburn—the wrist wound—the unexplained image—the muddy feet—the throat-marks—the tales and fears of the superstitious foreigners—what did all this mean? To what extent could the laws of sanity apply to such a case? There was no sleep for either of them that night, but next day they both cut classes and drowsed. This was April 30th, and with the dusk would come the hellish Sabbat-time which all the foreigners and the superstitious old folk feared. Mazurewicz came home at six o’clock and said people at the mill were whispering that the Walpurgis-revels would be held in the dark ravine beyond Meadow Hill where the old white stone stands in a place queerly void of all plant-life. Some of them had even told the police and advised them to look there for the missing Wolejko child, but they did not believe anything would be done. Joe insisted that the poor young gentleman wear his nickel-chained crucifix, and Gilman put it on and dropped it inside his shirt to humour the fellow. Late at night the two youths sat drowsing in their chairs, lulled by the rhythmical praying of the loomfixer on the floor below. Gilman listened as he nodded, his preternaturally sharpened hearing seeming to strain for some subtle, dreaded murmur beyond the noises in the ancient house. Unwholesome recollections of things in the Necronomicon and the Black Book welled up, and he found himself swaying to infandous rhythms said to pertain to the blackest ceremonies of the Sabbat and to have an origin outside the time and space we comprehend. Presently he realised what he was listening for—the hellish chant of the celebrants in the distant black valley. How did he know so much about what they expected? How did he know the time when Nahab and her acolyte were due to bear the brimming bowl which would follow the black cock and the black goat? He saw that Elwood had dropped asleep, and tried to call out and waken him. Something, however, closed his throat. He was not his own master. Had he signed the black man’s book after all? Then his fevered, abnormal hearing caught the distant, windborne notes. Over miles of hill and field and alley they came, but he recognised them none the less. The fires must be lit, and the dancers must be starting in. How could he keep himself from going? What was it that had enmeshed him? Mathematics—folklore—the house—old Keziah—Brown Jenkin . . . and now he saw that there was a fresh rat-hole in the wall near his couch. Above the distant chanting and the nearer praying of Joe Mazurewicz came another sound—a stealthy, determined scratching in the partitions. He hoped the electric lights would not go out. Then he saw the fanged, bearded little face in the rat-hole—the accursed little face which he at last realised bore such a shocking, mocking resemblance to old Keziah’s—and heard the faint fumbling at the door. The screaming twilight abysses flashed before him, and he felt himself helpless in the formless grasp of the iridescent bubble-congeries. Ahead raced the small, kaleidoscopic polyhedron, and all through the churning void there was a heightening and acceleration of the vague tonal pattern which seemed to foreshadow some unutterable and unendurable climax. He seemed to know what was coming—the monstrous burst of Walpurgis-rhythm in whose cosmic timbre would be concentrated all the primal, ultimate space-time seethings which lie behind the massed spheres of matter and sometimes break forth in measured reverberations that penetrate faintly to every layer of entity and give hideous significance throughout the worlds to certain dreaded periods. But all this vanished in a second. He was again in the cramped, violet-litten peaked space with the slanting floor, the low cases of ancient books, the bench and table, the queer objects, and the triangular gulf at one side. On the table lay a small white figure—an infant boy, unclothed and unconscious—while on the other side stood the monstrous, leering old woman with a gleaming, grotesque-hafted knife in her right hand, and a queerly proportioned pale metal bowl covered with curiously chased designs and having delicate lateral handles in her left. She was intoning some croaking ritual in a language which Gilman could not understand, but which seemed like something guardedly quoted in the Necronomicon. As the scene grew clear he saw the ancient crone bend forward and extend the empty bowl across the table—and unable to control his own motions, he reached far forward and took it in both hands, noticing as he did so its comparative lightness. At the same moment the disgusting form of Brown Jenkin scrambled up over the brink of the triangular black gulf on his left. The crone now motioned him to hold the bowl in a certain position while she raised the huge, grotesque knife above the small white victim as high as her right hand could reach. The fanged, furry thing began tittering a continuation of the unknown ritual, while the witch croaked loathsome responses. Gilman felt a gnawing, poignant abhorrence shoot through his mental and emotional paralysis, and the light metal bowl shook in his grasp. A second later the downward motion of the knife broke the spell completely, and he dropped the bowl with a resounding bell-like clangour while his hands darted out frantically to stop the monstrous deed. In an instant he had edged up the slanting floor around the end of the table and wrenched the knife from the old woman’s claws; sending it clattering over the brink of the narrow triangular gulf. In another instant, however, matters were reversed; for those murderous claws had locked themselves tightly around his own throat, while the wrinkled face was twisted with insane fury. He felt the chain of the cheap crucifix grinding into his neck, and in his peril wondered how the sight of the object itself would affect the evil creature. Her strength was altogether superhuman, but as she continued her choking he reached feebly in his shirt and drew out the metal symbol, snapping the chain and pulling it free. At sight of the device the witch seemed struck with panic, and her grip relaxed long enough to give Gilman a chance to break it entirely. He pulled the steel-like claws from his neck, and would have dragged the beldame over the edge of the gulf had not the claws received a fresh access of strength and closed in again. This time he resolved to reply in kind, and his own hands reached out for the creature’s throat. Before she saw what he was doing he had the chain of the crucifix twisted about her neck, and a moment later he had tightened it enough to cut off her breath. During her last struggle he felt something bite at his ankle, and saw that Brown Jenkin had come to her aid. With one savage kick he sent the morbidity over the edge of the gulf and heard it whimper on some level far below. Whether he had killed the ancient crone he did not know, but he let her rest on the floor where she had fallen. Then, as he turned away, he saw on the table a sight which nearly snapped the last thread of his reason. Brown Jenkin, tough of sinew and with four tiny hands of daemoniac dexterity, had been busy while the witch was throttling him, and his efforts had been in vain. What he had prevented the knife from doing to the victim’s chest, the yellow fangs of the furry blasphemy had done to a wrist—and the bowl so lately on the floor stood full beside the small lifeless body. In his dream-delirium Gilman heard the hellish, alien-rhythmed chant of the Sabbat coming from an infinite distance, and knew the black man must be there. Confused memories mixed themselves with his mathematics, and he believed his subconscious mind held the angles which he needed to guide him back to the normal world—alone and unaided for the first time. He felt sure he was in the immemorially sealed loft above his own room, but whether he could ever escape through the slanting floor or the long-stopped egress he doubted greatly. Besides, would not an escape from a dream-loft bring him merely into a dream-house—an abnormal projection of the actual place he sought? He was wholly bewildered as to the relation betwixt dream and reality in all his experiences. The passage through the vague abysses would be frightful, for the Walpurgis-rhythm would be vibrating, and at last he would have to hear that hitherto veiled cosmic pulsing which he so mortally dreaded. Even now he could detect a low, monstrous shaking whose tempo he suspected all too well. At Sabbat-time it always mounted and reached through to the worlds to summon the initiate to nameless rites. Half the chants of the Sabbat were patterned on this faintly overheard pulsing which no earthly ear could endure in its unveiled spatial fulness. Gilman wondered, too, whether he could trust his instinct to take him back to the right part of space. How could he be sure he would not land on that green-litten hillside of a far planet, on the tessellated terrace above the city of tentacled monsters somewhere beyond the galaxy, or in the spiral black vortices of that ultimate void of Chaos wherein reigns the mindless daemon-sultan Azathoth? Just before he made the plunge the violet light went out and left him in utter blackness. The witch—old Keziah—Nahab—that must have meant her death. And mixed with the distant chant of the Sabbat and the whimpers of Brown Jenkin in the gulf below he thought he heard another and wilder whine from unknown depths. Joe Mazurewicz—the prayers against the Crawling Chaos now turning to an inexplicably triumphant shriek—worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of febrile dream—Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Goat with a Thousand Young. . . . They found Gilman on the floor of his queerly angled old garret room long before dawn, for the terrible cry had brought Desrochers and Choynski and Dombrowski and Mazurewicz at once, and had even wakened the soundly sleeping Elwood in his chair. He was alive, and with open, staring eyes, but seemed largely unconscious. On his throat were the marks of murderous hands, and on his left ankle was a distressing rat-bite. His clothing was badly rumpled, and Joe’s crucifix was missing. Elwood trembled, afraid even to speculate on what new form his friend’s sleep-walking had taken. Mazurewicz seemed half-dazed because of a “sign” he said he had had in response to his prayers, and he crossed himself frantically when the squealing and whimpering of a rat sounded from beyond the slanting partition. When the dreamer was settled on his couch in Elwood’s room they sent for Dr. Malkowski—a local practitioner who would repeat no tales where they might prove embarrassing—and he gave Gilman two hypodermic injections which caused him to relax in something like natural drowsiness. During the day the patient regained consciousness at times and whispered his newest dream disjointedly to Elwood. It was a painful process, and at its very start brought out a fresh and disconcerting fact. Gilman—whose ears had so lately possessed an abnormal sensitiveness—was now stone deaf. Dr. Malkowski, summoned again in haste, told Elwood that both ear-drums were ruptured, as if by the impact of some stupendous sound intense beyond all human conception or endurance. How such a sound could have been heard in the last few hours without arousing all the Miskatonic Valley was more than the honest physician could say. Elwood wrote his part of the colloquy on paper, so that a fairly easy communication was maintained. Neither knew what to make of the whole chaotic business, and decided it would be better if they thought as little as possible about it. Both, though, agreed that they must leave this ancient and accursed house as soon as it could be arranged. Evening papers spoke of a police raid on some curious revellers in a ravine beyond Meadow Hill just before dawn, and mentioned that the white stone there was an object of age-long superstitious regard. Nobody had been caught, but among the scattering fugitives had been glimpsed a huge negro. In another column it was stated that no trace of the missing child Ladislas Wolejko had been found. The crowning horror came that very night. Elwood will never forget it, and was forced to stay out of college the rest of the term because of the resulting nervous breakdown. He had thought he heard rats in the partitions all the evening, but paid little attention to them. Then, long after both he and Gilman had retired, the atrocious shrieking began. Elwood jumped up, turned on the lights, and rushed over to his guest’s couch. The occupant was emitting sounds of veritably inhuman nature, as if racked by some torment beyond description. He was writhing under the bedclothes, and a great red stain was beginning to appear on the blankets.

North Star Project

Fredrick R. Lee

N.P.S-Missing_Persons
(Rowan), (January) (24), (2023)

Background/Origin

When dealing with mysterious deaths and disappearances, a sense of melancholy & frustration are often felt. It cannot be understated how often the friends, family, and searchers of the disappeared are left in limbo. When all efforts to find the missing are fruitless, any sense of control or certainty also fades. While tragic in their own right, people vanishing without a trace or dying under suspect circumstances are all too familiar. If only the smallest clues would present themselves, can any sense of relief, no matter how brief, be felt, and perhaps could lead to closure? But what happens when the clues are abundant, yet lead to no answers? What happens when seemingly smoking guns are dismissed by investigators? Such is the unfortunate fate of Frederick “Fred” R. (Riley) Lee of Buckland, Alaska.

Characteristics

Missing Since: 6:00 am on June 14th, 2022
DOB: June 1981
Location Missing: Body found on Kincaid Beach
Last Seen Date: June 14, 2022
Last Seen Location: Holiday Gas on Spenard Road, Anchorage
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Race: Native Alaskan
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: dark brown/ black
Weight: (N/A)
Height: (N/A)
Glasses: None
Scars: (N/A)
Tattoos: (N/A)
Wearing When Disappeared: Black hoodie, Navy baseball hat, Blue jeans and Black shoes.
Any Other Relevant Information: He had no card on him, no ID, and no phone -Bessie N Donald Hadley
Do they have a private investigator searching for them? If so, who?: (N/A)
Did the Feds stop searching?: Yes
Investigating agencies?: None.

Background & Incident Report:

Working as a Heavy machine operator, a miner at Red Dog mine, and a volleyball coach. Fred Lee, very much a family man, Fred was a provider for his wife Nancy Stalker Lee, and their four children. “He cherished his children and his wife so much,” said Bessie Hadley, his younger sister. “He took care of my mom, also.”
On June 11th, He and his wife flew from Buckland to Anchorage for the funeral of Fred’s brother, William Lee. Dissatisfied and uncomfortable with their accommodations at the Spenard Motel, they changed reservations to the nearby Chelsea Inn, to spend the remaining time in a more comfortable location. The couple had arranged to board a flight back to Buckland at 9 am on June 14th. At 4 am that morning, Fred and Nancy decided to split up. Nancy got a taxi to retrieve her lost phone from an uncle’s house. Fred had packed his backpack and decided to head to the DMV on foot, in hopes to renew his expired ID before the Flight. Sometime around 6 am, Fred was spotted asking for directions at the Holiday gas station on Spenard road. Unfortunately, this is the last confirmed sighting of Fred alive. When Fred missed the check-in for his flight, Nancy and the family became concerned and started canvassing the area.
The next day, His body was found in an out-of-the-way spot in Kincaid Beach; roughly a ten-minute stroll from the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. According to the first responders, he was found naked, with black eyes, multiple scratches/lacerations on his back, a broken nose, and bumps on his head. His possessions were not found at the scene.

UPDATE AS OF FEBRUARY OF 2024:

The following link is the transcript of a podcast that contains additional information of this case, a summarization of the following is in the works. Check it out here

Federal Theories

(What did the cops say happened? Official statements, etc..)
At first, police were eager to investigate the death of Fred Lee as normally as they would any other case. However, this enthusiasm was shut down within 1 week of the discovery; officially ruling Fred’s Death as “non-criminal” on June 21st. They remained silent to the public regarding this case for well over a month. It was not until a small but determined group of protestors gathered outside the Anchorage Police Department; pressuring them into making a statement on August 3rd.
According to the Anchorage Police Department, (which will henceforth be referred to as “the APD”), Fred Lee's death was non-criminal. Specifically, the press release held by APD cites ”Acute ketoacidosis and bronchopneumonia due to acute toxic effects of methamphetamine.” They would conclude this correspondence with the following statement: “Because this is a non-criminal death, we have no further information to share.” This would mean he suffered complications from untreated diabetes and pneumonia from smoking meth, on the day he mysteriously disappeared. This, of course, does nothing to address the multiple injuries Fred had mysteriously sustained; this serves; to say nothing about the not-so-subtle character assassination. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this case was the rushed way the APD handled this case and their continued claims of “medical causes” served only to gaslight the community. When the average civilian can see the many inconsistencies professionals insist aren’t there, then the community itself can fracture in the face of such a lack of integrity. As of the time of writing, the APD has not commented as to the conditions of Lee’s body, the whereabouts of his belongings, or how or why he ended up in a place he was unfamiliar with.

Sightings (pictures, videos) If Applicable.

One instance of the APD's dereliction of duty is the seeming lack of attention given to an exciting lead. Stephen Fisher is a frequent visitor to Kincaid beach and was nearby on the date Fred disappeared. According to him, he was following his routine walk on the Tony Knowles trail when he heard a commotion. Fisher commented on hearing aggressive voices on the bluff directly above the trail. He was unable to get a good look and had initially assumed it was a man fending off a wild animal, he decided to stay and listen when he thought he could discern another voice responding. Fischer reports having waited there for roughly 10 minutes; while he could hear it stop and start a few times, he didn’t hear exactly what was said. After some twenty minutes, Fisher reports hearing one of the voices lapse from English into a Native Alaskan language (although fisher was unable to tell which one). Fisher would soon depart the scene to his turnaround point. 45 minutes later, he would return to the same spot he heard the commotion, and there met a woman who claims she saw an injured man. After calling the police, Fisher would go to the body in an attempt to perform CPR, where he found that Mr. Lee was already deceased and Rigor Mortis had already set in. Fisher was confused as to the state of the body, commenting on the even cuts on Lee’s back while his legs and feet appeared uninjured. Fisher, the woman, and another man stayed on the scene to make statements, however, nothing beyond cursory statements were taken from them by the police. Fisher waited on what he thought would be an inevitable call from investigators but was left vexed when it never came. He tried contacting the APD himself to give a statement several times but was met with either silence or apparent hostility. Stephen Fisher would later contact Shaylin Thomas, the eldest daughter of the late Fred Lee. They are both in agreement that there is definitely foul play involved. These days, Stephen Fisher still makes his rounds down the Tony Knowles trail, but he stops every time he gets to the spot where Fred was found.

Personal Theories

(Rowan Emperor)
There is a general dearth of useful information when it comes to Fred’s death. Whether that info is privileged or simply unavailable, there is a lot of evidence that could potentially crack the case. One such angle to speculate on would be at the Holiday gas station. That was the last place Fred was seen alive, and he was asking for directions to the DMV. Why would Fred abandon his family to die on a trail? I suspect that someone was willing to give him a ride. As Fred was in pain and stressed, it would be a very tempting offer to ride with a stranger to the DMV. Such a person with ulterior motives would find an opportunity. Perhaps then, this person would later torture and rob the poor man. This would explain the disappearance of his possessions, and his injuries. Said injuries, however, as they are described seem to be superficial. There is no doubt in my mind that the circumstances of Fred Lee’s death came about in a horrific manner, but maybe the APD was half right about the cause of death. It is known that acute ketoacidosis is often exacerbated by stress, therefore when he was robbed and abandoned, it triggered a medical problem and killed him. Of course, this doesn't explain why his body seemed to be placed there. Nor why the APD would only seek to find the cause of death and wipe their hands of how and why he went to Kincaid beach. Perhaps then, there is CCTV footage of Fred getting into a car at holiday gas. Perhaps there is a broader investigation that the APD has deliberately obfuscated, in an effort to hide their intent from any suspects. Alas, this line of thought does not serve to resolve his death, but only plants more doubt. Only time will tell then if these theories prove to be true.

Personal Theories (Project Supervisor Friendly)

When examining cases like these, there is a sense of genuine confusion, fear, and a lack of understanding regarding some of the actions taken by the AKST. This particular case is no exception. While I refrain from stating specifics, it seems evident, especially with newly surfaced information, that this was not simply a noncriminal death. As outlined in the transcript found in the incident report section, while Fred was missing, a transfer of $1,000 from Fred’s account into another person's account occurred. It's plausible that the individual who stole the money may also be responsible for robbing Fred of his clothing. However, it's essential to note that speculation alone does not constitute a call to action. As always, correlation does not imply causation, but we must consider these factors.
"In investigations, details matter." - Lee Child
It appears there is a possibility that Lee was unintentionally murdered, his body then dumped on the beach and unclothed to avoid detection of DNA evidence by the police. There could be a more significant criminal presence than initially believed, with the police possibly downplaying the event as noncriminal to deter further criminal activity. Alternatively, it's possible that they simply failed to fulfill their duties. Perhaps Fred intended to purchase meth, (of which is doubted.) and the transaction went wrong, explaining its presence in his system. However, there are too many variables, and the case is too old to draw any definitive conclusions. At this time, all we can do is hope for new developments or closure for the family. I apologize for not being able to provide more information. If you seek further insights, feel free to reach out to me via our Discord channel.

Citations/Sources

Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). A Buckland man was found dead and naked on an Anchorage beach. Police say his death isn’t suspicious, but his family disagrees. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/07/25/a-buckland-man-was-found-dead-and-naked-on-an-anchorage-beach-police-say-his-death-isnt-suspicious-but-his-family-disagrees/
Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). Family: Police didn’t listen to witness account leading up to discovery of Buckland man’s body. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/08/06/family-says-police-didnt-listen-to-witness-account-of-prelude-to-buckland-mans-death/
APD (n.d.). Update 8/3/22 Death Investigation: Kincaid Chalet/Beach Area. Anchoragepolice.com. https://www.anchoragepolice.com/news/death-investigation-kincaid-chaletbeach-area
Grove, C. (n.d.). Anchorage police say death of Buckland man found naked on beach was noncriminal, but family wants a closer look. Alaska Public Media. https://alaskapublic.org/2022/08/11/anchorage-police-say-death-of-buckland-man-found-naked-on-beach-was-noncriminal-but-family-wants-a-closer-look/

North Star Project

Fredrick R. Lee

N.P.S-Missing_Persons
(Rowan), (January) (24), (2023)

Background/Origin

When dealing with mysterious deaths and disappearances, a sense of melancholy & frustration are often felt. It cannot be understated how often the friends, family, and searchers of the disappeared are left in limbo. When all efforts to find the missing are fruitless, any sense of control or certainty also fades. While tragic in their own right, people vanishing without a trace or dying under suspect circumstances are all too familiar. If only the smallest clues would present themselves, can any sense of relief, no matter how brief, be felt, and perhaps could lead to closure? But what happens when the clues are abundant, yet lead to no answers? What happens when seemingly smoking guns are dismissed by investigators? Such is the unfortunate fate of Frederick “Fred” R. (Riley) Lee of Buckland, Alaska.

Characteristics

Missing Since: 6:00 am on June 14th, 2022
DOB: June 1981
Location Missing: Body found on Kincaid Beach
Last Seen Date: June 14, 2022
Last Seen Location: Holiday Gas on Spenard Road, Anchorage
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Race: Native Alaskan
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: dark brown/ black
Weight: (N/A)
Height: (N/A)
Glasses: None
Scars: (N/A)
Tattoos: (N/A)
Wearing When Disappeared: Black hoodie, Navy baseball hat, Blue jeans and Black shoes.
Any Other Relevant Information: He had no card on him, no ID, and no phone -Bessie N Donald Hadley
Do they have a private investigator searching for them? If so, who?: (N/A)
Did the Feds stop searching?: Yes
Investigating agencies?: None.

Background & Incident Report:

Working as a Heavy machine operator, a miner at Red Dog mine, and a volleyball coach. Fred Lee, very much a family man, Fred was a provider for his wife Nancy Stalker Lee, and their four children. “He cherished his children and his wife so much,” said Bessie Hadley, his younger sister. “He took care of my mom, also.”
On June 11th, He and his wife flew from Buckland to Anchorage for the funeral of Fred’s brother, William Lee. Dissatisfied and uncomfortable with their accommodations at the Spenard Motel, they changed reservations to the nearby Chelsea Inn, to spend the remaining time in a more comfortable location. The couple had arranged to board a flight back to Buckland at 9 am on June 14th. At 4 am that morning, Fred and Nancy decided to split up. Nancy got a taxi to retrieve her lost phone from an uncle’s house. Fred had packed his backpack and decided to head to the DMV on foot, in hopes to renew his expired ID before the Flight. Sometime around 6 am, Fred was spotted asking for directions at the Holiday gas station on Spenard road. Unfortunately, this is the last confirmed sighting of Fred alive. When Fred missed the check-in for his flight, Nancy and the family became concerned and started canvassing the area.
The next day, His body was found in an out-of-the-way spot in Kincaid Beach; roughly a ten-minute stroll from the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. According to the first responders, he was found naked, with black eyes, multiple scratches/lacerations on his back, a broken nose, and bumps on his head. His possessions were not found at the scene.

UPDATE AS OF FEBRUARY OF 2024:

The following link is the transcript of a podcast that contains additional information of this case, a summarization of the following is in the works. Check it out here

Federal Theories

(What did the cops say happened? Official statements, etc..)
At first, police were eager to investigate the death of Fred Lee as normally as they would any other case. However, this enthusiasm was shut down within 1 week of the discovery; officially ruling Fred’s Death as “non-criminal” on June 21st. They remained silent to the public regarding this case for well over a month. It was not until a small but determined group of protestors gathered outside the Anchorage Police Department; pressuring them into making a statement on August 3rd.
According to the Anchorage Police Department, (which will henceforth be referred to as “the APD”), Fred Lee's death was non-criminal. Specifically, the press release held by APD cites ”Acute ketoacidosis and bronchopneumonia due to acute toxic effects of methamphetamine.” They would conclude this correspondence with the following statement: “Because this is a non-criminal death, we have no further information to share.” This would mean he suffered complications from untreated diabetes and pneumonia from smoking meth, on the day he mysteriously disappeared. This, of course, does nothing to address the multiple injuries Fred had mysteriously sustained; this serves; to say nothing about the not-so-subtle character assassination. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this case was the rushed way the APD handled this case and their continued claims of “medical causes” served only to gaslight the community. When the average civilian can see the many inconsistencies professionals insist aren’t there, then the community itself can fracture in the face of such a lack of integrity. As of the time of writing, the APD has not commented as to the conditions of Lee’s body, the whereabouts of his belongings, or how or why he ended up in a place he was unfamiliar with.

Sightings (pictures, videos) If Applicable.

One instance of the APD's dereliction of duty is the seeming lack of attention given to an exciting lead. Stephen Fisher is a frequent visitor to Kincaid beach and was nearby on the date Fred disappeared. According to him, he was following his routine walk on the Tony Knowles trail when he heard a commotion. Fisher commented on hearing aggressive voices on the bluff directly above the trail. He was unable to get a good look and had initially assumed it was a man fending off a wild animal, he decided to stay and listen when he thought he could discern another voice responding. Fischer reports having waited there for roughly 10 minutes; while he could hear it stop and start a few times, he didn’t hear exactly what was said. After some twenty minutes, Fisher reports hearing one of the voices lapse from English into a Native Alaskan language (although fisher was unable to tell which one). Fisher would soon depart the scene to his turnaround point. 45 minutes later, he would return to the same spot he heard the commotion, and there met a woman who claims she saw an injured man. After calling the police, Fisher would go to the body in an attempt to perform CPR, where he found that Mr. Lee was already deceased and Rigor Mortis had already set in. Fisher was confused as to the state of the body, commenting on the even cuts on Lee’s back while his legs and feet appeared uninjured. Fisher, the woman, and another man stayed on the scene to make statements, however, nothing beyond cursory statements were taken from them by the police. Fisher waited on what he thought would be an inevitable call from investigators but was left vexed when it never came. He tried contacting the APD himself to give a statement several times but was met with either silence or apparent hostility. Stephen Fisher would later contact Shaylin Thomas, the eldest daughter of the late Fred Lee. They are both in agreement that there is definitely foul play involved. These days, Stephen Fisher still makes his rounds down the Tony Knowles trail, but he stops every time he gets to the spot where Fred was found.

Personal Theories

(Rowan Emperor)
There is a general dearth of useful information when it comes to Fred’s death. Whether that info is privileged or simply unavailable, there is a lot of evidence that could potentially crack the case. One such angle to speculate on would be at the Holiday gas station. That was the last place Fred was seen alive, and he was asking for directions to the DMV. Why would Fred abandon his family to die on a trail? I suspect that someone was willing to give him a ride. As Fred was in pain and stressed, it would be a very tempting offer to ride with a stranger to the DMV. Such a person with ulterior motives would find an opportunity. Perhaps then, this person would later torture and rob the poor man. This would explain the disappearance of his possessions, and his injuries. Said injuries, however, as they are described seem to be superficial. There is no doubt in my mind that the circumstances of Fred Lee’s death came about in a horrific manner, but maybe the APD was half right about the cause of death. It is known that acute ketoacidosis is often exacerbated by stress, therefore when he was robbed and abandoned, it triggered a medical problem and killed him. Of course, this doesn't explain why his body seemed to be placed there. Nor why the APD would only seek to find the cause of death and wipe their hands of how and why he went to Kincaid beach. Perhaps then, there is CCTV footage of Fred getting into a car at holiday gas. Perhaps there is a broader investigation that the APD has deliberately obfuscated, in an effort to hide their intent from any suspects. Alas, this line of thought does not serve to resolve his death, but only plants more doubt. Only time will tell then if these theories prove to be true.

Personal Theories (Project Supervisor Friendly)

When examining cases like these, there is a sense of genuine confusion, fear, and a lack of understanding regarding some of the actions taken by the AKST. This particular case is no exception. While I refrain from stating specifics, it seems evident, especially with newly surfaced information, that this was not simply a noncriminal death. As outlined in the transcript found in the incident report section, while Fred was missing, a transfer of $1,000 from Fred’s account into another person's account occurred. It's plausible that the individual who stole the money may also be responsible for robbing Fred of his clothing. However, it's essential to note that speculation alone does not constitute a call to action. As always, correlation does not imply causation, but we must consider these factors.
"In investigations, details matter." - Lee Child
It appears there is a possibility that Lee was unintentionally murdered, his body then dumped on the beach and unclothed to avoid detection of DNA evidence by the police. There could be a more significant criminal presence than initially believed, with the police possibly downplaying the event as noncriminal to deter further criminal activity. Alternatively, it's possible that they simply failed to fulfill their duties. Perhaps Fred intended to purchase meth, (of which is doubted.) and the transaction went wrong, explaining its presence in his system. However, there are too many variables, and the case is too old to draw any definitive conclusions. At this time, all we can do is hope for new developments or closure for the family. I apologize for not being able to provide more information. If you seek further insights, feel free to reach out to me via our Discord channel.

Citations/Sources

Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). A Buckland man was found dead and naked on an Anchorage beach. Police say his death isn’t suspicious, but his family disagrees. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/07/25/a-buckland-man-was-found-dead-and-naked-on-an-anchorage-beach-police-say-his-death-isnt-suspicious-but-his-family-disagrees/
Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). Family: Police didn’t listen to witness account leading up to discovery of Buckland man’s body. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/08/06/family-says-police-didnt-listen-to-witness-account-of-prelude-to-buckland-mans-death/
APD (n.d.). Update 8/3/22 Death Investigation: Kincaid Chalet/Beach Area. Anchoragepolice.com. https://www.anchoragepolice.com/news/death-investigation-kincaid-chaletbeach-area
Grove, C. (n.d.). Anchorage police say death of Buckland man found naked on beach was noncriminal, but family wants a closer look. Alaska Public Media. https://alaskapublic.org/2022/08/11/anchorage-police-say-death-of-buckland-man-found-naked-on-beach-was-noncriminal-but-family-wants-a-closer-look/

North Star Project

Fredrick R. Lee

N.P.S-Missing_Persons
(Rowan), (January) (24), (2023)

Background/Origin

When dealing with mysterious deaths and disappearances, a sense of melancholy & frustration are often felt. It cannot be understated how often the friends, family, and searchers of the disappeared are left in limbo. When all efforts to find the missing are fruitless, any sense of control or certainty also fades. While tragic in their own right, people vanishing without a trace or dying under suspect circumstances are all too familiar. If only the smallest clues would present themselves, can any sense of relief, no matter how brief, be felt, and perhaps could lead to closure? But what happens when the clues are abundant, yet lead to no answers? What happens when seemingly smoking guns are dismissed by investigators? Such is the unfortunate fate of Frederick “Fred” R. (Riley) Lee of Buckland, Alaska.

Characteristics

Missing Since: 6:00 am on June 14th, 2022
DOB: June 1981
Location Missing: Body found on Kincaid Beach
Last Seen Date: June 14, 2022
Last Seen Location: Holiday Gas on Spenard Road, Anchorage
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Race: Native Alaskan
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: dark brown/ black
Weight: (N/A)
Height: (N/A)
Glasses: None
Scars: (N/A)
Tattoos: (N/A)
Wearing When Disappeared: Black hoodie, Navy baseball hat, Blue jeans and Black shoes.
Any Other Relevant Information: He had no card on him, no ID, and no phone -Bessie N Donald Hadley
Do they have a private investigator searching for them? If so, who?: (N/A)
Did the Feds stop searching?: Yes
Investigating agencies?: None.

Background & Incident Report:

Working as a Heavy machine operator, a miner at Red Dog mine, and a volleyball coach. Fred Lee, very much a family man, Fred was a provider for his wife Nancy Stalker Lee, and their four children. “He cherished his children and his wife so much,” said Bessie Hadley, his younger sister. “He took care of my mom, also.”
On June 11th, He and his wife flew from Buckland to Anchorage for the funeral of Fred’s brother, William Lee. Dissatisfied and uncomfortable with their accommodations at the Spenard Motel, they changed reservations to the nearby Chelsea Inn, to spend the remaining time in a more comfortable location. The couple had arranged to board a flight back to Buckland at 9 am on June 14th. At 4 am that morning, Fred and Nancy decided to split up. Nancy got a taxi to retrieve her lost phone from an uncle’s house. Fred had packed his backpack and decided to head to the DMV on foot, in hopes to renew his expired ID before the Flight. Sometime around 6 am, Fred was spotted asking for directions at the Holiday gas station on Spenard road. Unfortunately, this is the last confirmed sighting of Fred alive. When Fred missed the check-in for his flight, Nancy and the family became concerned and started canvassing the area.
The next day, His body was found in an out-of-the-way spot in Kincaid Beach; roughly a ten-minute stroll from the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. According to the first responders, he was found naked, with black eyes, multiple scratches/lacerations on his back, a broken nose, and bumps on his head. His possessions were not found at the scene.

UPDATE AS OF FEBRUARY OF 2024:

The following link is the transcript of a podcast that contains additional information of this case, a summarization of the following is in the works. Check it out here

Federal Theories

(What did the cops say happened? Official statements, etc..)
At first, police were eager to investigate the death of Fred Lee as normally as they would any other case. However, this enthusiasm was shut down within 1 week of the discovery; officially ruling Fred’s Death as “non-criminal” on June 21st. They remained silent to the public regarding this case for well over a month. It was not until a small but determined group of protestors gathered outside the Anchorage Police Department; pressuring them into making a statement on August 3rd.
According to the Anchorage Police Department, (which will henceforth be referred to as “the APD”), Fred Lee's death was non-criminal. Specifically, the press release held by APD cites ”Acute ketoacidosis and bronchopneumonia due to acute toxic effects of methamphetamine.” They would conclude this correspondence with the following statement: “Because this is a non-criminal death, we have no further information to share.” This would mean he suffered complications from untreated diabetes and pneumonia from smoking meth, on the day he mysteriously disappeared. This, of course, does nothing to address the multiple injuries Fred had mysteriously sustained; this serves; to say nothing about the not-so-subtle character assassination. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this case was the rushed way the APD handled this case and their continued claims of “medical causes” served only to gaslight the community. When the average civilian can see the many inconsistencies professionals insist aren’t there, then the community itself can fracture in the face of such a lack of integrity. As of the time of writing, the APD has not commented as to the conditions of Lee’s body, the whereabouts of his belongings, or how or why he ended up in a place he was unfamiliar with.

Sightings (pictures, videos) If Applicable.

One instance of the APD's dereliction of duty is the seeming lack of attention given to an exciting lead. Stephen Fisher is a frequent visitor to Kincaid beach and was nearby on the date Fred disappeared. According to him, he was following his routine walk on the Tony Knowles trail when he heard a commotion. Fisher commented on hearing aggressive voices on the bluff directly above the trail. He was unable to get a good look and had initially assumed it was a man fending off a wild animal, he decided to stay and listen when he thought he could discern another voice responding. Fischer reports having waited there for roughly 10 minutes; while he could hear it stop and start a few times, he didn’t hear exactly what was said. After some twenty minutes, Fisher reports hearing one of the voices lapse from English into a Native Alaskan language (although fisher was unable to tell which one). Fisher would soon depart the scene to his turnaround point. 45 minutes later, he would return to the same spot he heard the commotion, and there met a woman who claims she saw an injured man. After calling the police, Fisher would go to the body in an attempt to perform CPR, where he found that Mr. Lee was already deceased and Rigor Mortis had already set in. Fisher was confused as to the state of the body, commenting on the even cuts on Lee’s back while his legs and feet appeared uninjured. Fisher, the woman, and another man stayed on the scene to make statements, however, nothing beyond cursory statements were taken from them by the police. Fisher waited on what he thought would be an inevitable call from investigators but was left vexed when it never came. He tried contacting the APD himself to give a statement several times but was met with either silence or apparent hostility. Stephen Fisher would later contact Shaylin Thomas, the eldest daughter of the late Fred Lee. They are both in agreement that there is definitely foul play involved. These days, Stephen Fisher still makes his rounds down the Tony Knowles trail, but he stops every time he gets to the spot where Fred was found.

Personal Theories

(Rowan Emperor)
There is a general dearth of useful information when it comes to Fred’s death. Whether that info is privileged or simply unavailable, there is a lot of evidence that could potentially crack the case. One such angle to speculate on would be at the Holiday gas station. That was the last place Fred was seen alive, and he was asking for directions to the DMV. Why would Fred abandon his family to die on a trail? I suspect that someone was willing to give him a ride. As Fred was in pain and stressed, it would be a very tempting offer to ride with a stranger to the DMV. Such a person with ulterior motives would find an opportunity. Perhaps then, this person would later torture and rob the poor man. This would explain the disappearance of his possessions, and his injuries. Said injuries, however, as they are described seem to be superficial. There is no doubt in my mind that the circumstances of Fred Lee’s death came about in a horrific manner, but maybe the APD was half right about the cause of death. It is known that acute ketoacidosis is often exacerbated by stress, therefore when he was robbed and abandoned, it triggered a medical problem and killed him. Of course, this doesn't explain why his body seemed to be placed there. Nor why the APD would only seek to find the cause of death and wipe their hands of how and why he went to Kincaid beach. Perhaps then, there is CCTV footage of Fred getting into a car at holiday gas. Perhaps there is a broader investigation that the APD has deliberately obfuscated, in an effort to hide their intent from any suspects. Alas, this line of thought does not serve to resolve his death, but only plants more doubt. Only time will tell then if these theories prove to be true.

Personal Theories (Project Supervisor Friendly)

When examining cases like these, there is a sense of genuine confusion, fear, and a lack of understanding regarding some of the actions taken by the AKST. This particular case is no exception. While I refrain from stating specifics, it seems evident, especially with newly surfaced information, that this was not simply a noncriminal death. As outlined in the transcript found in the incident report section, while Fred was missing, a transfer of $1,000 from Fred’s account into another person's account occurred. It's plausible that the individual who stole the money may also be responsible for robbing Fred of his clothing. However, it's essential to note that speculation alone does not constitute a call to action. As always, correlation does not imply causation, but we must consider these factors.
"In investigations, details matter." - Lee Child
It appears there is a possibility that Lee was unintentionally murdered, his body then dumped on the beach and unclothed to avoid detection of DNA evidence by the police. There could be a more significant criminal presence than initially believed, with the police possibly downplaying the event as noncriminal to deter further criminal activity. Alternatively, it's possible that they simply failed to fulfill their duties. Perhaps Fred intended to purchase meth, (of which is doubted.) and the transaction went wrong, explaining its presence in his system. However, there are too many variables, and the case is too old to draw any definitive conclusions. At this time, all we can do is hope for new developments or closure for the family. I apologize for not being able to provide more information. If you seek further insights, feel free to reach out to me via our Discord channel.

Citations/Sources

Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). A Buckland man was found dead and naked on an Anchorage beach. Police say his death isn’t suspicious, but his family disagrees. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/07/25/a-buckland-man-was-found-dead-and-naked-on-an-anchorage-beach-police-say-his-death-isnt-suspicious-but-his-family-disagrees/
Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). Family: Police didn’t listen to witness account leading up to discovery of Buckland man’s body. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/08/06/family-says-police-didnt-listen-to-witness-account-of-prelude-to-buckland-mans-death/
APD (n.d.). Update 8/3/22 Death Investigation: Kincaid Chalet/Beach Area. Anchoragepolice.com. https://www.anchoragepolice.com/news/death-investigation-kincaid-chaletbeach-area
Grove, C. (n.d.). Anchorage police say death of Buckland man found naked on beach was noncriminal, but family wants a closer look. Alaska Public Media. https://alaskapublic.org/2022/08/11/anchorage-police-say-death-of-buckland-man-found-naked-on-beach-was-noncriminal-but-family-wants-a-closer-look/

North Star Project

Fredrick R. Lee

N.P.S-Missing_Persons
(Rowan), (January) (24), (2023)

Background/Origin

When dealing with mysterious deaths and disappearances, a sense of melancholy & frustration are often felt. It cannot be understated how often the friends, family, and searchers of the disappeared are left in limbo. When all efforts to find the missing are fruitless, any sense of control or certainty also fades. While tragic in their own right, people vanishing without a trace or dying under suspect circumstances are all too familiar. If only the smallest clues would present themselves, can any sense of relief, no matter how brief, be felt, and perhaps could lead to closure? But what happens when the clues are abundant, yet lead to no answers? What happens when seemingly smoking guns are dismissed by investigators? Such is the unfortunate fate of Frederick “Fred” R. (Riley) Lee of Buckland, Alaska.

Characteristics

Missing Since: 6:00 am on June 14th, 2022
DOB: June 1981
Location Missing: Body found on Kincaid Beach
Last Seen Date: June 14, 2022
Last Seen Location: Holiday Gas on Spenard Road, Anchorage
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Race: Native Alaskan
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: dark brown/ black
Weight: (N/A)
Height: (N/A)
Glasses: None
Scars: (N/A)
Tattoos: (N/A)
Wearing When Disappeared: Black hoodie, Navy baseball hat, Blue jeans and Black shoes.
Any Other Relevant Information: He had no card on him, no ID, and no phone -Bessie N Donald Hadley
Do they have a private investigator searching for them? If so, who?: (N/A)
Did the Feds stop searching?: Yes
Investigating agencies?: None.

Background & Incident Report:

Working as a Heavy machine operator, a miner at Red Dog mine, and a volleyball coach, Fred Lee represents the salt of the earth. Very much a family man, Fred was a provider and mentor for his wife Nancy Stalker Lee, and their four children. “He cherished his children and his wife so much,” said Bessie Hadley, his younger sister. “He took care of my mom, also.”
On June 11th, He and his wife flew from Buckland to Anchorage for the funeral of Fred’s brother, William Lee. Dissatisfied with their accommodations at Spenard Motel, they changed reservations to the nearby Chelsea Inn, to spend the remaining time in a more comfortable location. The couple had arranged to board a flight back to Buckland at 9 am on June 14th. At 4 am that morning, Fred and Nancy decided to split up. Nancy got a taxi to retrieve her lost phone from an uncle’s house. Fred had packed his backpack and decided to head to the DMV on foot, in hopes to renew his expired ID before the Flight. Sometime around 6 am, Fred was spotted asking for directions at the Holiday gas station on Spenard road. Unfortunately, this is the last confirmed sighting of Fred alive. When Fred missed the check-in for his flight, Nancy and the family became concerned and started canvassing the area.
The next day, His body was found in an out-of-the-way spot in Kincaid Beach; roughly a ten-minute stroll from the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. According to the first responders, he was found naked, with black eyes, multiple scratches on his back, a broken nose, and bumps on his head. His possessions were not found at the scene.

UPDATE AS OF FEBRUARY OF 2024:

The following link is the transcript of a podcast that contains additional information of this case, a summarization of the following is in the works. Check it out here

Federal Theories

(What did the cops say happened? Official statements, etc..)
At first, police were eager to investigate the death of Fred Lee as normally as they would any other case. However, this enthusiasm was shut down within 1 week of the discovery; officially ruling Fred’s Death as “non-criminal” on June 21st. They remained silent to the public regarding this case for well over a month. It was not until a small but determined group of protestors gathered outside the Anchorage Police Department; pressuring them into making a statement on August 3rd.
According to the Anchorage Police Department, (which will henceforth be referred to as “the APD”), Fred Lee's death was non-criminal. Specifically, the press release held by APD cites ”Acute ketoacidosis and bronchopneumonia due to acute toxic effects of methamphetamine.” They would conclude this correspondence with the following statement: “Because this is a non-criminal death, we have no further information to share.” This would mean he suffered complications from untreated diabetes and pneumonia from smoking meth, on the day he mysteriously disappeared. This, of course, does nothing to address the multiple injuries Fred had mysteriously sustained; this serves; to say nothing about the not-so-subtle character assassination. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this case was the rushed way the APD handled this case and their continued claims of “medical causes” served only to gaslight the community. When the average civilian can see the many inconsistencies professionals insist aren’t there, then the community itself can fracture in the face of such a lack of integrity. As of the time of writing, the APD has not commented as to the conditions of Lee’s body, the whereabouts of his belongings, or how or why he ended up in a place he was unfamiliar with.

Sightings (pictures, videos) If Applicable.

One glaring instance of the APD's dereliction of duty is the seeming lack of attention given to an exciting lead. Stephen Fisher is a frequent visitor to Kincaid beach and was nearby on the date Fred disappeared. According to him, he was following his routine walk on the Tony Knowles trail when he heard a commotion. Fisher commented on hearing aggressive voices on the bluff directly above the trail. He was unable to get a good look and had initially assumed it was a man fending off a wild animal, he decided to stay and listen when he thought he could discern another voice responding. Fischer reports having waited there for roughly 10 minutes; while he could hear it stop and start a few times, he didn’t hear exactly what was said. After some twenty minutes, Fisher reports hearing one of the voices lapse from English into a Native Alaskan language (although fisher was unable to tell which one). Fisher would soon depart the scene to his turnaround point. 45 minutes later, he would return to the same spot he heard the commotion, and there met a woman who claims she saw an injured man. After calling the police, Fisher would go to the body in an attempt to perform CPR, where he found that Mr. Lee was already deceased and Rigor Mortis had already set in. Fisher was confused as to the state of the body, commenting on the even cuts on Lee’s back while his legs appeared uninjured. Fisher, the woman, and another man stayed on the scene to make statements, however, nothing beyond cursory statements were taken from them by the police. Fisher waited on what he thought would be an inevitable call from investigators but was left vexed when it never came. He tried contacting the APD himself to give a statement several times but was met with either silence or apparent hostility. Stephen Fisher would later contact Shaylin Thomas, the eldest daughter of the late Fred Lee. They are both in agreement that there is definitely foul play involved. These days, Stephen Fisher still makes his rounds down the Tony Knowles trail, but he stops every time he gets to the spot where Fred was found.

Personal Theories

(Rowan Emperor)
There is a general dearth of useful information when it comes to Fred’s death. Whether that info is privileged or simply unavailable, there is a lot of evidence that could potentially crack the case. One such angle to speculate on would be at the Holiday gas station. That was the last place Fred was seen alive, and he was asking for directions to the DMV. Why would Fred abandon his family to die on a trail? I suspect that someone was willing to give him a ride. As Fred was in pain and stressed, it would be a very tempting offer to ride with a stranger to the DMV. Such a person with ulterior motives would find an opportunity. Perhaps then, this person would later torture and rob the poor man. This would explain the disappearance of his possessions, and his injuries. Said injuries, however, as they are described seem to be superficial. There is no doubt in my mind that the circumstances of Fred Lee’s death came about in a horrific manner, but maybe the APD was half right about the cause of death. It is known that acute ketoacidosis is often exacerbated by stress, therefore when he was robbed and abandoned, it triggered a medical problem and killed him. Of course, this doesn't explain why his body seemed to be placed there. Nor why the APD would only seek to find the cause of death and wipe their hands of how and why he went to Kincaid beach. Perhaps then, there is CCTV footage of Fred getting into a car at holiday gas. Perhaps there is a broader investigation that the APD has deliberately obfuscated, in an effort to hide their intent from any suspects. Alas, this line of thought does not serve to resolve his death, but only plants more doubt. Only time will tell then if these theories prove to be true.

Personal Theories (Project Supervisor Friendly)

When examining cases like these, there is a sense of genuine confusion, fear, and a lack of understanding regarding some of the actions taken by the AKST. This particular case is no exception. While I refrain from stating specifics, it seems evident, especially with newly surfaced information, that this was not simply a noncriminal death. As outlined in the transcript found in the incident report section, while Fred was missing, a transfer of $1,000 from Fred’s account into another person's account occurred. It's plausible that the individual who stole the money may also be responsible for robbing Fred of his clothing. However, it's essential to note that speculation alone does not constitute a call to action. As always, correlation does not imply causation, but we must consider these factors.
"In investigations, details matter." - Lee Child
It appears there is a possibility that Lee was unintentionally murdered, his body then dumped on the beach and unclothed to avoid detection of DNA evidence by the police. There could be a more significant criminal presence than initially believed, with the police possibly downplaying the event as noncriminal to deter further criminal activity. Alternatively, it's possible that they simply failed to fulfill their duties. Perhaps Fred intended to purchase meth, (of which is doubted.) and the transaction went wrong, explaining its presence in his system. However, there are too many variables, and the case is too old to draw any definitive conclusions. At this time, all we can do is hope for new developments or closure for the family. I apologize for not being able to provide more information. If you seek further insights, feel free to reach out to me via our Discord channel.

Citations/Sources

Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). A Buckland man was found dead and naked on an Anchorage beach. Police say his death isn’t suspicious, but his family disagrees. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/07/25/a-buckland-man-was-found-dead-and-naked-on-an-anchorage-beach-police-say-his-death-isnt-suspicious-but-his-family-disagrees/
Theriault Boots, M. (n.d.). Family: Police didn’t listen to witness account leading up to discovery of Buckland man’s body. Anchorage Daily News. https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/anchorage/2022/08/06/family-says-police-didnt-listen-to-witness-account-of-prelude-to-buckland-mans-death/
APD (n.d.). Update 8/3/22 Death Investigation: Kincaid Chalet/Beach Area. Anchoragepolice.com. https://www.anchoragepolice.com/news/death-investigation-kincaid-chaletbeach-area
Grove, C. (n.d.). Anchorage police say death of Buckland man found naked on beach was noncriminal, but family wants a closer look. Alaska Public Media. https://alaskapublic.org/2022/08/11/anchorage-police-say-death-of-buckland-man-found-naked-on-beach-was-noncriminal-but-family-wants-a-closer-look/

unclothed: divested or stripped of clothing
See tree for unclothed: https://treegledictionary.org/define/unclothed