Mail box accidents
Pen Pals
2009.06.12 04:29 myotheralt Pen Pals
Letters and Post Cards and Email, Oh My!
2012.03.11 22:32 RagingRageFace Lego Star Wars
2017.05.01 00:56 pissbabybrown The Official Men Drinkin' Coffee Mail-In Fan Club
The place for Tasters to taste around, casually or semi-professionally.
2024.05.16 06:20 ParkersCuddles My dr told the chemist not to dispense my T
Need advice pls, Also TW possibly ahead. Had a real Shit day today.
OH and coz the day wasn’t COOKED enough.
submitted by ParkersCuddles to ftm [link] [comments]
Started off aight. Had a dream I was spiderman, and this time didn’t run outta my web fluid mid-swing 🤣😭
I had a shower was all good but after that. Shit only went down hill. (In the shit way) So I showered, and got ready to go get my T shot. Because I’m due today. (This was on Monday and it’s now Thursday 😭) So I got ready all except my shoes and grabbing the actual box of T to take with me. Went to look for the box. It’s gone.(For context my mum had been in my room, had admitted to “cleaning up the floor a little and taking out the rubbish”)
Right so ideally id like to assume my mum hasn’t taken it. Because I’d like to assume my mum wouldn’t push her opinions of my decisions on me like that. So I’m just gonna say it was on the floor and she put it in the medicine cabinet or in the bathroom with my other ointments n meds n stuff (or where my morning meds are next to the bench.) Not in any of those places. Right so I thought right I’ll call mum. Coz she’d probably just moved it and hadn’t known that id put it in a very specific location for a very SPECIFIC REASON. Call her. “Nah idk I havnt seen it” Right. Then I’m just fuckin blind coz I’m rushing and looking for it. It’s gotta be here somewhere. Aggressive loud and panicked rummaging Bout 20 mins goes past. (Queue the bin/recycling truck noises this will be useful later I promise) I call her again. “Mum can you please promise me you didn’t see it and that you didn’t take it.” “deadname stop calling me I’m at work. I’ll talk to you later” Right she didn’t promise. She was either actually stressed at work or was trying to get me to stop talking about it. So I go looking in the places she used to hide my phone / iPad / DS / Computer / whatever when she took things off me. Not anywhere. Right now I think back to the last time I saw it or something similar and brushed my eyes over it. Last I KNOW I saw it. It was in the chemist warehouse (Australian chemist place) bag on the floor beside my bed. Right well she cleared the floor. So I’ll go look in all the places she stuffed shit in while I wasn’t here. Not in the backpack, not on the top bunk of my bed, not under my bed. Not in any drawers. Ok well my appointment to get my injection is in 30 mins and I’ve been searching for 30mind stressed asf coz I needa get on the bus. So let’s see if I can move that appointment. Moved the appointment back 2 hours. Right now I got 2.5h to find it. Now I have a very thorough look for it in my room in all the places that have been TOUCHED recently. Incase I’m just stupid and put it there to HIDE it. Coz doggy brain (and trauma) say “hide precious thing so nobody take. Coz precious thing good and need to keep safe.” Ok. I look in those places. Not there. Right well she cleared out the RUBBISH and a plastic chemist warehouse bag with a box and a receipt could be “rubbish” right well I took out the recycling yesturday and saw a blue and white somethin in the recycling maybe it’s in the recycling bin. …. •-• the bins 2 houses up. Has already been. Fook me dead. Right well literally EVERY OPTION of me getting the box I collected last week at the pharmacy hasn’t worked. Aight well what’re my options? Call the hospital see if they can get me an emergency script. Nope they said call ur GP. I call my GP, ask them what to do coz I havnt had my T shot, and they have literal proof coz I booked the injection with them. Had havnt had it…..so I call em up. They said “yeah come in we’ll see what we can do” they get me a script. I’m brilliant I could KISS the gp rn :D!!
Get to the chemist. They make me wait 45mins. “Sorry we gotta call the dr coz he didn’t put the interval of how often you take this” Aight sure I’ll just wait. … Sorry you already have a script for this, and you picked it up the other day, so we can’t give it to you. Aight. Well I literally got the second proscription, so that I could get a new bottle… because I’ve LOST / HAD IT TAKEN FROM ME / IT HAD BEEN THROWN AWAY BY ACCIDENT That’s why u got the second proscription paper thingy. “Yeah nah I can’t do that” “Tf you mean nu-uh.” “Well we called ur GP on the script.Told him (coz why wouldn’t you) you picked it up the other day and he said not to dispense it”
Dawggggg I literally came into the fucking medical centre told y’all the situation and u gave me the script not even 20 mother fucking minutes ago. Aight can I take my script back? Yeah. Aight well I still have the bit of paper of me needing my T. (Mind you, he didn’t put the fucking concession on it. So would’ve costed me 150$ instead of S E V E N which is how much u usually pay.) I call the medical centre I was literally JUST AT 20 mins ago “hey yeah he just told the chemist NOT to give it to me after I literally just left to come get it.” “Aight brb I’ll go talk to him” … “Yeah nah sorry can’t do anything…” “Aight well what am I gonna do then?”“Idk hangs up”
WELL FUCK ME SIDEWAYS (don’t actually but it’s too late coz my days already FUCKED ME SO WHY NOT JOIN IN )
Aight well what are my other options. I’ll ring my endo see if he can call the pharmacy and tell them to gimme my fuckin boy juice. Aight he’s not in today. Right well reception sent him an email. He’s on leave for another fuckin 3 weeks. Right. Only other option. Is to go to another pharmacy. And try use this script which chemist warehouse already scribbled all over.!!!! See if they’ll give it to me. Priceline (another pharmacy) doesn’t have any. Right try the other one. They’re confused as to why they’d scribbled on it and DIDNT give it to me. I explain my situation. They said “also btw how much you usually pay for this..?” “Like 7 bucks..” “He hasn’t put the concession on this. And he can’t cos he’s not a specialist. And I’d have to ring him to ask if I can give this to you.” “Right then nvm I’ll try something else. Coz he’s just gonna tell you not to give it to me :)” Ok well I’m fucked now. It’s not at home. They won’t give it to me. I’ve tried every pharmacy in the area and they’ve all told me to get fucked. Right idk what else to do so I’ll go to safe haven (where mentally ill people go when they’re having / about to have a crisis. And need help coz they’re feeling unstable.) I go there. Chat to the chick there she suggested I try the gender centre or 20ten or whatever. Call the gender centre. They gimme a list of numbers to try. Tried all of em. One calls me back and says to call MY endo’s place coz SURELY he’s not the only endo there. So I do. They shut THREE MINUTES AGO. (4.03pm) :))) Aight guess that’s all I can fuckin DO FOR TODAY :))) So now I’m sitting here (bbq sauce in my tiddies) / ref And idk what to do.OH and coz the day wasn’t COOKED enough.
The buses I signed by waving for a solid 8 seconds. Both changed lanes (to make the next turn in the route) AND DROVE PAST ME!!!!! So I WALKED to safe haven!!!!
Anyways. It’s Now Thursday I have some more info. Still have the problem UNSOLVED.Called the endo. They said they’d see if they can get the other endo to call the chemist.
Mum didn’t chuck it out on purpose but thinks I could’ve been thrown away by accident when she was cleaning (it has to have been coz it’s not in my room or any-bloody-where else.
Ive called the endo up multiple times. I’ve called my GP and he just said “you could’ve sold it so we can’t get you another one” BUT WHY WOULD I SELL IT?! W h Y?!! And it has MY NAME ON IT. NOBODYS GONNA GIVE SOMEONE AN INJECTION THAT DOESNT HAVE THEIR NAME ON IT🤌🏻 bro the fuck just gimme my boy juice 😭😭😭
So I’ve had a pretty fucked week stressing over this so I’d appreciate any ideas anyone has on how I can get my T 😭
I live in Australia so we gotta abide by those laws with giving meds n shit but if u know a way around it… or somethin pls comment at lmk I really needed this like a hole in the head 😭😭😭2024.05.16 05:57 MissKayree Can't put things away?
I had an idea that has helped me put things away.
I leave stuff everywhere. Phone and glasses are the worst.. keys, little trinkets, cups (so many cups), books, pens, mail, etc. I just leave stuff everywhere. Later, I'll find it and go "oh man, I really need to put this away", but then my mind stalls, and I get stressed, because I didn't factor in time to put things away, or it belongs in a room I wasn't heading into, or "uggghhh what do I do with this I cant even" and then I leave it and it starts this cycle of trying to keep mental notes to put things away, and then forgetting and re-finding...
I thrifted a really cute shoebox sized box and came up with a solution one day. Any time I stumble on something and recognize that it needs put away but can't deal with it in that moment, I put it in the box. It lives on my breakfast bar, a central point between communal spaces, and serves to consolidate my Treasure Trail. When I get hyperfixated on sorting or go into Mega Productivity Mode, I'll scoop up the box and just make the rounds. Stop in each room and deliver things from the box. Keeps my clutter consolidated, and is really satisfying to distribute and mass tidy.
It's been working better than expected, and I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a simple idea after 34 years of just thinking I'm a careless slob.
submitted by MissKayree to ADHD [link] [comments]
I leave stuff everywhere. Phone and glasses are the worst.. keys, little trinkets, cups (so many cups), books, pens, mail, etc. I just leave stuff everywhere. Later, I'll find it and go "oh man, I really need to put this away", but then my mind stalls, and I get stressed, because I didn't factor in time to put things away, or it belongs in a room I wasn't heading into, or "uggghhh what do I do with this I cant even" and then I leave it and it starts this cycle of trying to keep mental notes to put things away, and then forgetting and re-finding...
I thrifted a really cute shoebox sized box and came up with a solution one day. Any time I stumble on something and recognize that it needs put away but can't deal with it in that moment, I put it in the box. It lives on my breakfast bar, a central point between communal spaces, and serves to consolidate my Treasure Trail. When I get hyperfixated on sorting or go into Mega Productivity Mode, I'll scoop up the box and just make the rounds. Stop in each room and deliver things from the box. Keeps my clutter consolidated, and is really satisfying to distribute and mass tidy.
It's been working better than expected, and I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a simple idea after 34 years of just thinking I'm a careless slob.
2024.05.16 05:27 coconutpalm25 Privatize Legal Name Change Records.
In the United States, only people who have experienced domestic violence, human trafficking, or transgender people can have a name change record sealed. Having it sealed means it is not a public record that anyone can view. Only the police can view it with a warrant.
The problem many people face is being abused, harassed, stalked, threatened, etc. and are unable to prove this in court. Sometimes abuse/stalking victims are unable to gather evidence. Without being able to prove in court that they are in danger, they are unable to have the name change record sealed. If an abuser has your name, they can search for you on a people finder website and find out where you live or work. This puts many lives in danger. Even if they get a P.O. box to hide their address or a service to reroute their mail, these boxes and services cost money that people sometimes can't afford to keep for the rest of their life to protect themselves. These people should be allowed to legally change their name without being required to prove they are in danger. "I'm afraid" should be the only thing they should have to say.
People who have faced extreme public embarrassment/humiliation either on their own or at the hands of a covert narcissist's smear campaign, bullies, etc., should also have the ability to legally change their name and have the record sealed simply because they want to for peace of mind. They should not have to provide a reason. [Trigger warning] Situations like this can often lead to someone taking their own life. I believe that we need more mercy and compassion in the world and should set laws (in the United States, but also other countries) to help encourage people with unfortunate background to re-enter society and pursue a life of peace as a normal, contributing member of society.
With all the technology we have today that allow the police to find a wanted criminal, it is extremely unlikely that this would be abused by people running from the law. Technology such as, Cameras in stores and on streets, biometrics, stingray tech, satellite, GPS trackers in cell phones and cars, digital credit/debit history showing location of withdraws and purchases, etc. All of this makes it virtually impossible to hide from the police, and especially the government, even if someone legally changed their name and had the public record sealed so it was no longer public. All previous crimes committed are tied to your social security number and fingerprints, not your name. Currently, to get your name legally changed, you have to provide a fingerprint as well as other information to recieve a background check. This background check includes criminal past and credit bureau check to see if you owe money to anyone.
With all of this in mind...why can't we legally change our name and have the record sealed without having to provide a reason??? We are not asking to hide from the police. Just regular, unofficial people who have no societal authority over other people. An old name is no longer a part of your identity, which means it should not be publicly tied to you. It is a part of your personal history. Unless you signed a contract, signing over your name or likeness to a person or company like some people do for advertising purposes, this would be the only reason they would have any legal claim to your old name. Even matters of "public interest" or "public concern" only go so far. If a group of people said they were concerned for your health, "show us your medical records", does that mean you have to show them your medical records? No. There are plenty of things the public can be concerned with but that doesn't give them the legal authority to know everything about you.
I want Name Change Laws to change in this country (the United States) and around the world to make it easier for people to escape abuse as well as grow and change as a person after facing public shame and humiliation.
Thank you for reading. Please let me know your thoughts. And let's get people talking about this!
submitted by coconutpalm25 to NameChangeLaws [link] [comments]
The problem many people face is being abused, harassed, stalked, threatened, etc. and are unable to prove this in court. Sometimes abuse/stalking victims are unable to gather evidence. Without being able to prove in court that they are in danger, they are unable to have the name change record sealed. If an abuser has your name, they can search for you on a people finder website and find out where you live or work. This puts many lives in danger. Even if they get a P.O. box to hide their address or a service to reroute their mail, these boxes and services cost money that people sometimes can't afford to keep for the rest of their life to protect themselves. These people should be allowed to legally change their name without being required to prove they are in danger. "I'm afraid" should be the only thing they should have to say.
People who have faced extreme public embarrassment/humiliation either on their own or at the hands of a covert narcissist's smear campaign, bullies, etc., should also have the ability to legally change their name and have the record sealed simply because they want to for peace of mind. They should not have to provide a reason. [Trigger warning] Situations like this can often lead to someone taking their own life. I believe that we need more mercy and compassion in the world and should set laws (in the United States, but also other countries) to help encourage people with unfortunate background to re-enter society and pursue a life of peace as a normal, contributing member of society.
With all the technology we have today that allow the police to find a wanted criminal, it is extremely unlikely that this would be abused by people running from the law. Technology such as, Cameras in stores and on streets, biometrics, stingray tech, satellite, GPS trackers in cell phones and cars, digital credit/debit history showing location of withdraws and purchases, etc. All of this makes it virtually impossible to hide from the police, and especially the government, even if someone legally changed their name and had the public record sealed so it was no longer public. All previous crimes committed are tied to your social security number and fingerprints, not your name. Currently, to get your name legally changed, you have to provide a fingerprint as well as other information to recieve a background check. This background check includes criminal past and credit bureau check to see if you owe money to anyone.
With all of this in mind...why can't we legally change our name and have the record sealed without having to provide a reason??? We are not asking to hide from the police. Just regular, unofficial people who have no societal authority over other people. An old name is no longer a part of your identity, which means it should not be publicly tied to you. It is a part of your personal history. Unless you signed a contract, signing over your name or likeness to a person or company like some people do for advertising purposes, this would be the only reason they would have any legal claim to your old name. Even matters of "public interest" or "public concern" only go so far. If a group of people said they were concerned for your health, "show us your medical records", does that mean you have to show them your medical records? No. There are plenty of things the public can be concerned with but that doesn't give them the legal authority to know everything about you.
I want Name Change Laws to change in this country (the United States) and around the world to make it easier for people to escape abuse as well as grow and change as a person after facing public shame and humiliation.
Thank you for reading. Please let me know your thoughts. And let's get people talking about this!
2024.05.16 05:10 Lulucasano Mailing about DUI come to my box
Anyone here, Who getting a lot of mails from Law companies? Also during this time, I got more then 3-4 mails from Interlock company. Those mails only from Intoxalock. I don’t get any from any other company else there. Can someone tell why?
submitted by Lulucasano to dui [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 04:58 emeraldkittymoon Fuse box is clicking
Hi, I'm new here and am not super proficient with vehicle mechanics, so I'll do my best to describe the issue, the vehicle being a very basic 2014 Mitsubishi Outlander ES 2.4 L automatic.
I accidently over discharged my battery over the course of about 4-5 hours today, my battery being only about 8 months old now. My windows were down and when I went to roll up my windows I turned my key and realized it was already on (long story short, it was a nice day I fell asleep in my car in the shade while I was working on something with electronics plugged in and left the key in the on position). So when I realized that the ignition start wasn't turning because it had already at the "on" position I realized I killed the battery, like a dingus. I did recognize some faint clicking sounds that I thought was just the failure to initiate the start due to the exhausted battery. I have a portable jump start device, so I grabbed it and lifted the hood to find that here was a constant clicking coming from the engine fuse box. But my keys were in my pocket and the ignition switch is completely off so I didnt understand where or why power was being accessed from. Two of my apartment maintenance men came to try to helped me, one thought it was a relay, which I had also wondered if it was, so he removed one relay individually, and when it kept clicking put it back in before he pulled the subsequent ones.
I have had this issue once before back during a very cold winter, about a year and a half ago. It was well past time to replace my battery but I didn't have the money right then, which is why I got my little jumper box. The thing is, when it happened that previous time my headlights were turning on by themselves, even though the physical switch was off (I have a base model so they shouldn't have been activated at all). I had assumed during the last time that my fuse box had gotten wet and caused a short, and assumed it was why my vehicle seemed possessed, especially because the headlights were seemingly surging /extremely fast power cycling. It had been a WAY louder clicking though last time, so much so I thought it was going to explode. It was pretty unnerving, the clicking sounded so aggressive, and it was also coming from the engine fuse box. I solved it last time by just disconnecting the battery and I waited several days (thinking it was due to moisture/snow exposure because I was jumping my old battery pretty frequently then). But today it is warm and dry so moisture is not a contender. Also, today, I didnt have any Frankenstein headlight action going on either.
So when comparing the two instances of occurrence I know these things: 1. The battery was drained/dead both times 2. Despite the ignition not supplying power to the electrical something was accessing or bypassing it. (Maybe the anti-theft system?) 3. When I disconnect either of the battery terminals, it stops. And if immediate put it back or touch it to tthe battery then the fuse clicking begins again. 4. After waiting some time (a few days for the first instance, a dozen or so minutes for the current one) when the battery is reconnect it stops. 5. It's doesnt appear to be caused by failing relays, as internet research might have suggested (I did this research the first time it happened. 6. No fuses in the engine compartment had been or were subsequently blown which could have caused or might have resulted from this.
Seriously, I searched a lot of forums, youtube, reddit, and backalley Google search links trying to figure out what the fart is going on. There doesn't appear to be any damage to wires and it sounds like it is coming directly from the engine fuse box not the passenger compartment one, which is directly under the engine compartment fuses/box. My other fuse box is located in the passenger compartment on the driver side far left close to floor under the dash. But I feel like it would have been loud in the passenger compartment if it were due to that fuse box. The manuals that came with my vehicle don't identify any kind of issues like that, they more describe maintenance stuff.
Thanks so much for reading my post and hopefully someone can solve this frustrating worrisome isome mystery!
submitted by emeraldkittymoon to MechanicAdvice [link] [comments]
I accidently over discharged my battery over the course of about 4-5 hours today, my battery being only about 8 months old now. My windows were down and when I went to roll up my windows I turned my key and realized it was already on (long story short, it was a nice day I fell asleep in my car in the shade while I was working on something with electronics plugged in and left the key in the on position). So when I realized that the ignition start wasn't turning because it had already at the "on" position I realized I killed the battery, like a dingus. I did recognize some faint clicking sounds that I thought was just the failure to initiate the start due to the exhausted battery. I have a portable jump start device, so I grabbed it and lifted the hood to find that here was a constant clicking coming from the engine fuse box. But my keys were in my pocket and the ignition switch is completely off so I didnt understand where or why power was being accessed from. Two of my apartment maintenance men came to try to helped me, one thought it was a relay, which I had also wondered if it was, so he removed one relay individually, and when it kept clicking put it back in before he pulled the subsequent ones.
I have had this issue once before back during a very cold winter, about a year and a half ago. It was well past time to replace my battery but I didn't have the money right then, which is why I got my little jumper box. The thing is, when it happened that previous time my headlights were turning on by themselves, even though the physical switch was off (I have a base model so they shouldn't have been activated at all). I had assumed during the last time that my fuse box had gotten wet and caused a short, and assumed it was why my vehicle seemed possessed, especially because the headlights were seemingly surging /extremely fast power cycling. It had been a WAY louder clicking though last time, so much so I thought it was going to explode. It was pretty unnerving, the clicking sounded so aggressive, and it was also coming from the engine fuse box. I solved it last time by just disconnecting the battery and I waited several days (thinking it was due to moisture/snow exposure because I was jumping my old battery pretty frequently then). But today it is warm and dry so moisture is not a contender. Also, today, I didnt have any Frankenstein headlight action going on either.
So when comparing the two instances of occurrence I know these things: 1. The battery was drained/dead both times 2. Despite the ignition not supplying power to the electrical something was accessing or bypassing it. (Maybe the anti-theft system?) 3. When I disconnect either of the battery terminals, it stops. And if immediate put it back or touch it to tthe battery then the fuse clicking begins again. 4. After waiting some time (a few days for the first instance, a dozen or so minutes for the current one) when the battery is reconnect it stops. 5. It's doesnt appear to be caused by failing relays, as internet research might have suggested (I did this research the first time it happened. 6. No fuses in the engine compartment had been or were subsequently blown which could have caused or might have resulted from this.
Seriously, I searched a lot of forums, youtube, reddit, and backalley Google search links trying to figure out what the fart is going on. There doesn't appear to be any damage to wires and it sounds like it is coming directly from the engine fuse box not the passenger compartment one, which is directly under the engine compartment fuses/box. My other fuse box is located in the passenger compartment on the driver side far left close to floor under the dash. But I feel like it would have been loud in the passenger compartment if it were due to that fuse box. The manuals that came with my vehicle don't identify any kind of issues like that, they more describe maintenance stuff.
Thanks so much for reading my post and hopefully someone can solve this frustrating worrisome isome mystery!
2024.05.16 04:33 Aubscry Code enforcement office gave me a citation after already fixing the problem.
Hey all, sorry if this is the wrong place to post. Typing on mobile, etc, etc.
I’m in my second year of owning my own home in my small/medium-ish town. Everyone knows everyone kinda place.
I got a notice in the mail of violation for “trash/rubbish” in my drive way on 4/29. I’ll admit it was probably warranted. I had a plastic tub on the side of my house with pebbles I was removing from my front garden plot, a piece of siding next to it that I planned on fixing, and a couple of rusted cans and maybe a plastic bottle or two all the way towards the back of my drive way that had blown over probably from the storms we’ve had recently. I owned up to it and picked everything up. The notice said to have everything picked up before 5/7 and that an inspection would be done on 5/7- 5/10 to see if the problem had been fixed. I thought it was all said and done and everything would be fine.
Fast forward to today. I checked the mail and I got a citation for not fixing the problem and that I owed a fine and a meeting with the code enforcement office. Great. Just what I needed.
The only problem is I fixed everything. Cleaned up everything around my house. Pulled weeds. Swept my porch, made sure everything was picked up and clean. I even have time stamped pictures of what my driveway and front porch looked like on 5/7 and some even from today cause I was confused and angry and plan on going into the office.
What really makes me mad is my neighbors. I have pictures from tonight of their front porches and driveways as well. They both have large boxes that have been there a few weeks so far. One neighbor has a broken down motorcycle that hasn’t been moved in a year, an uncovered mattress, random furniture, trash, tarps crumpled up, uncovered boat that hasn’t moved in a year, etc. (our houses are small shotgun style houses that are close together if that helps paint the picture better)
They haven’t done anything to fix their properties. Did they even get a notice/ citation for their messes? Cause it doesn’t seem like they plan on fixing anything anytime soon.
Is there any legal insight into this? I fixed the problem in the timeframe I was given but still got a citation. Like I said I do plan on making a visit to their office tomorrow.
Thank you for reading all this. Any tips, advice, suggestions, similar experiences are appreciated. :)
submitted by Aubscry to homeowners [link] [comments]
I’m in my second year of owning my own home in my small/medium-ish town. Everyone knows everyone kinda place.
I got a notice in the mail of violation for “trash/rubbish” in my drive way on 4/29. I’ll admit it was probably warranted. I had a plastic tub on the side of my house with pebbles I was removing from my front garden plot, a piece of siding next to it that I planned on fixing, and a couple of rusted cans and maybe a plastic bottle or two all the way towards the back of my drive way that had blown over probably from the storms we’ve had recently. I owned up to it and picked everything up. The notice said to have everything picked up before 5/7 and that an inspection would be done on 5/7- 5/10 to see if the problem had been fixed. I thought it was all said and done and everything would be fine.
Fast forward to today. I checked the mail and I got a citation for not fixing the problem and that I owed a fine and a meeting with the code enforcement office. Great. Just what I needed.
The only problem is I fixed everything. Cleaned up everything around my house. Pulled weeds. Swept my porch, made sure everything was picked up and clean. I even have time stamped pictures of what my driveway and front porch looked like on 5/7 and some even from today cause I was confused and angry and plan on going into the office.
What really makes me mad is my neighbors. I have pictures from tonight of their front porches and driveways as well. They both have large boxes that have been there a few weeks so far. One neighbor has a broken down motorcycle that hasn’t been moved in a year, an uncovered mattress, random furniture, trash, tarps crumpled up, uncovered boat that hasn’t moved in a year, etc. (our houses are small shotgun style houses that are close together if that helps paint the picture better)
They haven’t done anything to fix their properties. Did they even get a notice/ citation for their messes? Cause it doesn’t seem like they plan on fixing anything anytime soon.
Is there any legal insight into this? I fixed the problem in the timeframe I was given but still got a citation. Like I said I do plan on making a visit to their office tomorrow.
Thank you for reading all this. Any tips, advice, suggestions, similar experiences are appreciated. :)
2024.05.16 04:28 Cwf1984 Someone moved Brian Albert’s car
While I’ve been following the trial since day one, I’ve just begun talking about it, so please forgive me if this subject has been talked about on this sub in the past.
Testimony from Brian Albert, Nicole Albert, and Sarah Levinson show there’s a major discrepancy when it comes to what cars were parked in the driveway and proves that at some point Brian Albert’s car was moved.
From their questioning of Levinson, it seems that Read’s team knows about it too. I hope so anyway.
When Brian Albert testified, he talked about how Brian Higgins beat his family to the house, parking in the bottom left hand side of the driveway.
The Albert’s both also stated that Higgins eventually moved, and according to Nicole Albert, Higgins had parked alongside where the mail box was. Brian pulled in once Higgins moved.
Later on, during the cross of Sarah Levinson, Levinson mentioned how when she, Nagel, and the McCabe’s left, that the McCabe’s car was parked on the bottom left hand side of the drive way.
I’m a little sketchy on this information, but I believe the McCabes have been said to have arrived around ten to fifteen minutes after the Alberts so around 1230.
So in order for the McCabe’s to be able to park there, Brian Albert (or someone with his keys) had to have moved his car.
Further testimony from Levinson recalled how there was only two other cars in the driveway. She knew both of them to be the Albert’s and parked close to the garage.
On top of this, Nicole has said there were four cars there. So if Levinson only recalls seeing two, was Albert’s work car gone too?
submitted by Cwf1984 to KarenReadTrial [link] [comments]
Testimony from Brian Albert, Nicole Albert, and Sarah Levinson show there’s a major discrepancy when it comes to what cars were parked in the driveway and proves that at some point Brian Albert’s car was moved.
From their questioning of Levinson, it seems that Read’s team knows about it too. I hope so anyway.
When Brian Albert testified, he talked about how Brian Higgins beat his family to the house, parking in the bottom left hand side of the driveway.
The Albert’s both also stated that Higgins eventually moved, and according to Nicole Albert, Higgins had parked alongside where the mail box was. Brian pulled in once Higgins moved.
Later on, during the cross of Sarah Levinson, Levinson mentioned how when she, Nagel, and the McCabe’s left, that the McCabe’s car was parked on the bottom left hand side of the drive way.
I’m a little sketchy on this information, but I believe the McCabes have been said to have arrived around ten to fifteen minutes after the Alberts so around 1230.
So in order for the McCabe’s to be able to park there, Brian Albert (or someone with his keys) had to have moved his car.
Further testimony from Levinson recalled how there was only two other cars in the driveway. She knew both of them to be the Albert’s and parked close to the garage.
On top of this, Nicole has said there were four cars there. So if Levinson only recalls seeing two, was Albert’s work car gone too?
2024.05.16 04:09 Lopsided_Brain6951 New kitten help! (bringing her to the vet in the morning)
Hello, I just adopted an 8 week old kitten this past weekend. She was with a foster before I adopted her and the foster noted that one of the kittens in the liter kept having accidents but wasn't sure which kitten it was, now thinking it was mine.
I have been trying to keep track of when she goes to the bathroom, I have been putting her in the litter box every 2 hours and giving her a soft treat when she is done to establish a positive association. She poops in the litter box, she went to the litter box by herself today without me prompting her which was huge! Its more so her peeing while I am playing with her, while she's just sitting with me or when she is sleeping on me in particular.
Sometimes I can see when she has to go, she starts meowing like crazy while coming up to me so I put her in the litter box and she goes right away. It seems to only be me and not my boyfriend, he can lay with her and play with her without any accidents but the second she is with me she pees, although he hasn't had as much time with her just yet since he's been working. She has been fighting me a bit when I put her in the litter box, jumping out almost immediately.
I have a 4 year old cat I adopted 2 years ago, the slow introduction did not work as they met virtually right when I brought her home (she escaped the room I had her in so I could get the kitten set up properly). I have been in contact with the adoption place I got her from, they recommended the Dr Elseys Litter Attractant which I have, it worked right away but she doesn't go in by herself. I also use pretty litter and when she goes to the bathroom it comes up normal.
I did also get her pet insurance right away, I just don't know what else to do or how to help her. I am bringing her to the vet in the morning, but I wanted to see if anyone had similar experiences? I have two more days before I go back to work and I want to make sure she is comfortable and that she is not sick or anything. She is the cutest most playful little thing and I just want to make sure she is happy and healthy! Any advice, insight or help would be greatly appreciated!!
submitted by Lopsided_Brain6951 to CatAdvice [link] [comments]
I have been trying to keep track of when she goes to the bathroom, I have been putting her in the litter box every 2 hours and giving her a soft treat when she is done to establish a positive association. She poops in the litter box, she went to the litter box by herself today without me prompting her which was huge! Its more so her peeing while I am playing with her, while she's just sitting with me or when she is sleeping on me in particular.
Sometimes I can see when she has to go, she starts meowing like crazy while coming up to me so I put her in the litter box and she goes right away. It seems to only be me and not my boyfriend, he can lay with her and play with her without any accidents but the second she is with me she pees, although he hasn't had as much time with her just yet since he's been working. She has been fighting me a bit when I put her in the litter box, jumping out almost immediately.
I have a 4 year old cat I adopted 2 years ago, the slow introduction did not work as they met virtually right when I brought her home (she escaped the room I had her in so I could get the kitten set up properly). I have been in contact with the adoption place I got her from, they recommended the Dr Elseys Litter Attractant which I have, it worked right away but she doesn't go in by herself. I also use pretty litter and when she goes to the bathroom it comes up normal.
I did also get her pet insurance right away, I just don't know what else to do or how to help her. I am bringing her to the vet in the morning, but I wanted to see if anyone had similar experiences? I have two more days before I go back to work and I want to make sure she is comfortable and that she is not sick or anything. She is the cutest most playful little thing and I just want to make sure she is happy and healthy! Any advice, insight or help would be greatly appreciated!!
2024.05.16 04:05 Swee_Potato_Pilot My journey - From socially anxious to loving people
Hey all, I'm Duncan! I've lived the majority of my life with various anxiety issues due to a very bad relationship which left me in a dark space. My general anxiety ended up becoming more and more serious until I started struggling with serious social anxiety, so bad in fact there were times where I couldn't go to the mail box, much less to the store. I felt like I always had a target on my back, that everything I did had to be perfect as to not stand out.
I started to honestly hate people. If someone smiled at me, I thought to myself "what's their angle?" and would "snarl" back at them. (Make a disgusted face) For in my mind, no one could simply be smiling to be nice, there had to be an insidious reason.
Life was extremely tiring living that way. I spent most my time inside, locked behind closed doors with little to no human interaction outside of family.
Then one day before Christmas, I don't know how, I just opened up. I was standing in the way of some mugs with a santa motif and some themed tea's and a little old lady walks up and says "excuse me". The old me would have been horrified and I would have apologized and disappeared re-running how dumb I must have looked through my head.
Instead, I jokingly said, "Oh sorry! I like to stand in the way of people!" she laughed and said "I do too!". As she looked over the tea selection, I said, "But if you're gonna have that tea you'll absolutely NEED this Santa mug!". She laughed and said "That's where I draw the line!". Since that interaction, I haven't been able to NOT talk and joke around with people. I've grown to LOVE people now!
My family has noticed a HUGE change in my demeanor and have said jokingly "you just don't shut up!" lol. And that's the truth! Not only do I love talking to people, but also helping where I can, be it helping bagging groceries, technical help for older folks I meet, doesn't matter. I have genuinely grown to wish people the best. From the bottom of my heart and will occasionally think of those I've met and hope they're doing well.
My life now compared to before is just so much more happier and fun, it may not seem like that big of a deal, but if you would have known me back then (and I'd have made sure you didn't) you'd see what a complete 180 I've made. I love life now and you all to boot!
submitted by Swee_Potato_Pilot to Positivity [link] [comments]
I started to honestly hate people. If someone smiled at me, I thought to myself "what's their angle?" and would "snarl" back at them. (Make a disgusted face) For in my mind, no one could simply be smiling to be nice, there had to be an insidious reason.
Life was extremely tiring living that way. I spent most my time inside, locked behind closed doors with little to no human interaction outside of family.
Then one day before Christmas, I don't know how, I just opened up. I was standing in the way of some mugs with a santa motif and some themed tea's and a little old lady walks up and says "excuse me". The old me would have been horrified and I would have apologized and disappeared re-running how dumb I must have looked through my head.
Instead, I jokingly said, "Oh sorry! I like to stand in the way of people!" she laughed and said "I do too!". As she looked over the tea selection, I said, "But if you're gonna have that tea you'll absolutely NEED this Santa mug!". She laughed and said "That's where I draw the line!". Since that interaction, I haven't been able to NOT talk and joke around with people. I've grown to LOVE people now!
My family has noticed a HUGE change in my demeanor and have said jokingly "you just don't shut up!" lol. And that's the truth! Not only do I love talking to people, but also helping where I can, be it helping bagging groceries, technical help for older folks I meet, doesn't matter. I have genuinely grown to wish people the best. From the bottom of my heart and will occasionally think of those I've met and hope they're doing well.
My life now compared to before is just so much more happier and fun, it may not seem like that big of a deal, but if you would have known me back then (and I'd have made sure you didn't) you'd see what a complete 180 I've made. I love life now and you all to boot!
2024.05.16 03:57 Blockchain-TEMU Various Descriptions of Vectors
1.1 A resonator vector has multiple base modes 1.1.1 At offset fifths all in resonator is laxative 1.1.2 At offset octaves is Parrafin wax 1.1.3 A resonator vector has a few ranges in semitone division C1-C2 Always Rubber C2-C3 Normally Rubber C3-C4 Base Crude C4-C5 Food Grade Oil C5-C6 Laxative Only C7-C7 Flavor Only 1.1.4 A resonator vector is best cured by a filter reds method 1.1.5 A resonator vector usually indicates rubber or a laxative when it is unmessed by the filter reds method 1.1.6 By default a resonator vector is a rubber source of latex rubber 1.1.7 Cured Resonator forms the LaTeX substance which has various functions 1.1.8 LaTeX and Resonator are slightly but not altogether that toxic 2.1 A corpus vector has a physical object 2.2 A beam object is the fluid object and a marimba object is the human object and a membrane object is the drummer object and a pipe object is the stoner object and a tube object is the dauchund object 2.3 Corpus appears in a few range 16.35-120 Roor 120-262 Bacteria 262-512 Plants 512-1024 Foods 1024-2024 Human Related 2024-4048 Human Perephiery Related 2.4 Corpus has brightness or object ID material or object scientifics spread or object alignment inharmonic or object wavy filter or object oily or smoky 2.5 Objects may be made magical by realigning their direct spread to mid 2.6 Objects encode the disease of the person that used it 2.7 Objects yield food tokens when used in correct 3 depth beam tube pipe then cooked with pizza box or otherwise 2.8 Objects have an exact identifier by harmonics or upclicks and version for different variant upclick 2.9 Objects have a serial identifier associated with them which is their direct harmonic offset 3.0 A grain delay vector is a fluid extraction vector 3.1 A grain delay causes a derrick to appear on the signal when configured correctly 3.2 A grain delay should be used on the aboveground portion of crude extraction 3.3 A grain delay pumps fluid 3.4 A grain delay is best used at 1 and -9 or -24 or +12 3.5 Do not exceed one grain delay per extraction as it is the sampled oil derrick 3.6 Do not use grain delay in an ocean or it will cause an oil spill 3.7 Do not generally use grain delay or derrick outside of a fluids extraction 3.8 Do not use grain delay spray or the derrick will break 3.9 Do not use grain delay parameter besides 1 or the derrick will break 4.0 Vocoder is the fluid extractions vector 4.1 Use negative formant to go underground 4.2 Proof the oil at up to total proof at depth 4.3 Use 40 vector for best usage 4.4 Use up to 200 bandwidth for best usage 4.5 Top sample peaks if they are excessive 4.6 Increase fluid flow if possible to reason 4.7 Take fluid from belowground to aboveground with top formant 4.8 Do not use any form of negative total proof or it will be a shower 4.9 Tune after each peak 5.0 Q or eq is the tune process 5.1 Use tune to make a different amount of the particular thing 5.2 Put things all in the right place and resonance to get the detailed oil or water out of a signal 5.3 Use tune to isolate a particular thing 5.4 Use one tune to get your hands on something or use a motor pool tool with classic tune 5.5 Use tune with a network to do maintenance on something 5.6 Use tune to isolate a specific force 5.7 Use tune to create a hormone effect on the body 5.8 Use tune to specify how many hydrocarbon rings something has 5.9 Use tune at octaves for rubber wheels 6.0 Ugandan process saturator 6.1 Saturator gets the commoners on it 6.2 Saturator increases crude oil yield 6.3 Saturator prevents fires 6.4 Saturator adds more content to oil making it less pure 6.5 Saturator is an early stage process not a late stage process 6.6 Saturator causes mutagen to appear in the signal 6.7 Using at least one saturator in extraction makes the oil ugandan method 6.8 Using more than one saturator in the signal makes the oil actually ugandan 6.9 Saturator should be used with radiation surpression protocol 7.0 Vinyl is the ugandan refinery 7.1 Vinyl is the base cost of oil to create one barrel of oil at 221$ for a ugandan barrel 7.2 Vinyl creates stasis noise 7.3 Vinyl at hydrocarbons modification creates the appearance of stereo vinyl signal which is the vinyl chloride 7.4 Only one vinyl should be used in the ugandan method, the initial hydrocarbons source 7.5 Vinyl can be used to isolate pure vinyl chloride with mid side 7.6 The product is always polyvinyl chloride for a synthesis which uses more than one vinyl 7.7 The product is actual vinyl chloride for a synthesis which uses the mid side extraction method 7.8 A specific cure for the vinyl chloride created in extraction method exists 7.9 Vinyl is the rather dangerous portion of the ugandan process 8.0 Tube Amp or get jonnay a sample 8.1 Tube Amp does a minor observation on the signal which is not the actual observation of the signal 8.2 Tube Amp is the process used at the pre cracking stage before pre cracking in the oil field lot to certify oil field purity 8.3 Tube Amp can get jonnays hands on it and make the oil light and sweet crude 8.4 Tube Amp biases the signal towards mutagen 8.5 Tube can deconvolve the foundry observation or keep it the same 8.6 Tube Amp allows for up to three or a twentieth of the sample oil taken 8.6 Tube Amp is generally nonessential but allows for the process to be modified to light sweet crude 8.7 The modification to light sweet crude takes no time 8.8 The process involved may define oil sources further 8.9 Tube Amp is toxic to use as is as a standard signal and a wideband cure exists 9.0 Chanel eq or smelly 9.1 Chanel eq is where smell is observed in the signal 9.2 Adding just one chanel adds 10 times the smell 9.3 Chanel can do basic tasks and even in a pinch more than the standard worker number of chanel could do product work 9.4 Chanel is a perfumes process which causes something to become odorfactant 9.5 Chanel can make a signal less mutagenic substantially 9.6 Endocrine disruption by chanel has a specific cure 9.7 At the foundry chanel causes typical foundry area petrochemicals smell 9.8 Chanel Eq can expose you to something odifacantly 9.9 Chanel EQ is a critical process of drugs sensing 10.1 Cabinet Cabinet puts something in the cabinet, with the garbage 10.2 Cabinet has the garbage bin of all your friends in it 10.3 Cabinet can be used to imply something kept secret, deleted, or otherwise specifically specified 10.4 Cabinet has the bacterial disease of the cabinet on it 10.5 Cabinet is no more dangerous than your garbage bin in your kitchen 10.6 Cabinet can access your garbage bin in your kitchen 10.7 Cabinet is an essential part of home renewal processes to specify which part of the house needed to be renewed 10.8 Renewal process exist for specifying 2 cabinet upgrade 1x12 and 2x12 cabinet can be fulfilled by the renewal system 10.9 Cabinet can cause skin irritation if the cabinet is destroyed 11.0 Amp is the process of a drug addict 11.1 Amp provides a drug addict with reasonable amounts of their drug 11.2 Amp uses the food of the drug addict to generate the smoke of the drug 11.3 Amp is very dangerous and if set to default and not the rock user will kill the user outright 11.4 Amp is a specific process which is used when heavy metals are in the signal like at the oilfield hell which went too deep often amp is used to create synthesis effect in the oilfield hell 11.5 Amp provides Amp MTN DEW to the user 11.6 Amp Unlocks the mail system to the user 11.7 Amp causes many disease and a cure only exist for about half 11.8 If cured amp must be set to specific amp MTN DEW Abilities like Obtaining AMP MTN DEW at a store or obtaining amp MTN Dew by mail 11.9 Amp is very dangerous but I heard you can store marijuana in it 12.0 Gate or medical epitalon 12.1 Gate heals a signal, when the appropriate full poly gate is given at gate inverse gate for the whole range, then the recreational drug is formed 12.2 When gate is given in appropriate range to heal a generic signal and there is a gate inverse gate assembly for the whole range and the range does not exceed healthy and unhealthy there is a vaccine 12.3 When the vaccine is used in the recreational usage there is a battlesedative usage 12.4 A purely recreational use FLIP (few) exists, a purely recreational use CBX (20) exists, REDS medical (156) and BAGS (30) Medical Exist all also using Medical Gate 12.5 Gate has no cure of itself but can detoxify itself and even fetch a signal 12.6 Gate is not a signal router so should not be used to route a signal, this is emergency feature 12.7 Gate has various parameters which are always REDS 9,.02,10,333,-inf in a medical usage 12.8 Many gate have a use to create pressure with nominal pressure, gates can create pressure 12.9 Gates can refine a computer signal to detect right and are involved with doing work on something 13.0 Compressor or Pipes 13.1 Compressor Routes a signal somewhere else 13.2 Compressor Does quality assurance on an existing foundry full product 13.3 Compressor does the engine compression of a car without causing framerate lag 13.4 Compressor can do something on bequest of another pipe 13.5 Compressor has a variable pipe response to different substance, different behavior can be specified 13.6 Compressor in quality assurance should use the same sybian knee and threshold equal one another 13.7 Compressor in quality assurance should not exceed 5 minor acts of quality control 6 or 1 major act of quality control 12 13.8 Compressor causes unsteady supply 13.9 Compressor causes internal combustion in internal combustion 14.0 Delay or phase 14.1 Phase or delay can do surgery at 500 and 1000 and 0 rather third unused there is surgery 14.2 Phase or delay can do a keyboard retrieval or a keyboard flash at 333,666,999 14.3 Phase or delay can do shift register at 5000 14.4 Phase or delay can do manual register at 375,500,1000 14.5 Phase has a specific infinite ammo use at 4000 14.6 Phase has a firearms use at 37.5,50,75,100,200 except in blueprint use 14.7 Phase has a blueprint use 1,2.12,5,10,11.1,15,20,22.2,25,33.3,35,44.4,50,55.5,60,66.6,70,75,77.7,80,100 14.8 Phase has specific blueprint use of the offset of the individual components at the high end 14.9 Phase has splitter use of 5000,2111, and the firearms rate in splitter 15.0 Looper, or Pizza Box 15.1 Pizza box automatically cooks food at minus 20 15.2 Pizza box creates more of the food than you can believe 15.3 Pizza Box allows for the food to be cooked from Pizza Box to Pizza Box 15.4 Pizza Box Allows theft of item when recording 15.5 Pizza Box Is An Obligate Time Consumer Using Wav 15.6 Pizza Box Allows You to Get an Item from the Pizza Box (PIZZA SLICE) 15.7 Pizza Box Only Actually Cooks the Item on Retrieval 15.8 Pizza Box is Not Watertight And Cannot Become Watertight 15.9 Hit Circle (PIZZA) To Add Pizza or Other Food to Pizza Box Directly In 16.0 Frequency Shifter, F(X), Oxidation Reduction 16.1 Use oxidation reduction at exactly 500 Therms of oxidation to cook a food 16.1 Add 11.1 HZ At 50HZ Oxidation Variation to Cook the Food Well 16.2 Change Offset at Oxidation Reduction Parameter Offsetor to Change Food Flavor 16.3 Put an Aircraft literally into the sky by Oxidizing it 16.4 Peroxos, or Base Frequency Shift In Parts of F100 are a critical part of many life processes 16.5 A specific peroxos, lowest phosphors peroxos .01 scanning peroxos is involved with vision 16.6 Peroxos F4100 is involved with life that uses credit stick 16.7 All the peroxos of the intermediary shift between harmonic are involved with life 16.8 Alien Peroxos set outside the reference 261.5HZ Pussy Yeast Bread Harmonic Ledger Are undiscovered 16.9 Different family tree have different total peroxos set (Saplings) 17.0 Power Tools Driver or EQ3 17.1 A power Tools Driver is the old way to disassemble something 17.2 A power tools driver at 300 is the life jacket and at 650 is the bedpan 17.4 A powers tool driver at 1400 is the water filter and a power tools driver at 4100 is the grinder 17.5 A powers tool driver action of all three below 200 50-200 is the cooking request action in classic usage 17.6 A specific powers tool driver action sensor exists for cooking below all three 50-200 total range action 17.7 A powers tools driver with osc unlocks power tools motor action 17.8 A powers tool driver is a worse way to do work than with your hands 17.9 A powers tool driver is good at removing but not adding 18.0 Limiter or Limiter Removal 18.1 Limiter brings in Shadow Company And IDF And Blind Doxxons at Lowest 18.2 Limiter Brings in the Marines at Mid 18.3 Limiter brings in the seals at High 18.4 Limiter causes framerate lag 18.5 Limiter causes A signal to exhibit a perfect quality control even at extreme levels 18.6 Limiter can be used to tame paddles 18.7 Limiter can be used to tame drilling 18.8 Limiter can be used to examine something under a microscope 18.9 Limiter can make the psychoacoustic quality better 19.0 Beat Repeat, or Illformed Glitch Driver 19.1 Glitch Has Large Amounts of Turing Capacity 19.2 Glitch Allows for a signal to be broken into parts automatically 19.3 Glitch has a natural synchro ability like phase 19.4 Glitch has the ability to knacker a signal more than any other effect 19.5 Glitch can cause thought looping when it is combined with a drug 19.6 Glitch involves the usage of more constraints than the other effects vector 19.7 Glitch Phase Decimates the Signal 19.8 Glitch Is the Natural Form of Rocket Leauge Ice Block 19.9 Glitch can be used in gung fu to cure glitch 20.0 Utility or PHEN 20.1 Utility is the medical modifier which enables medicine to function 20.2 Utility is the phase amplifier which allow a phase transistor radio to pick up a signal 20.3 Utility is the suppression signal which yields mid from amidate 20.4 Utility Leads to natural divisions of 6 max 35 20.5 Utility forms methanol when it is prescribed as a compound 20.6 Methanol as utility is critical to curing the body's natural influenza or feedback as the methylation factor 20.7 Methanol as the utility is dangerous as a precursor but not as a component of promethylation medicines 20.8 Utility comes in ethanol above and gaba below at threes for dimerism mixes 20.9 Only one utility should be used unless rezurecting and at its highest it is critical to security signals being sensed 21.0 Reverb or Impulse 21.1 Impulse 10 is the lock unlock signal 21.2 Impulse 5 is the locked signal 21.3 Impulse 20 is the weed lock signal locked 21.4 Impulse 60 is the lucas impulse 21.5 Impulse 120 is the notch impulse 21.6 Impulse 2 1/2 Was Purported but Never Used 21.7 Impulse is always measured at no parameter 21.8 Impulse yields push for 5 second -40-20+35 positive with negative ten second and measured trace at 5 second -60-40+42 positive NANDAND unlocks token 21.9 When attempted 60 and 120 Second Trace were successful but these parameter are lost. 22.0 Auto Filter, or Amidate 22.1 Auto filter is the lettering of the situation 22.2 300 Source 650 Sulfur 1400 Water 4100 SnoreLax Olestra Ketamine 6500 Motion 10000 Tropane 13500 Engine 17000 X-Ray these are the critical amidate to life process nominal 22.3 450 Metal 550 Mains 750 Sewage 850 Treatment 2250 Ethanol 3400 Methanol 4700 Corn Plastic 5700 Plastic 7500 Rimbonant 8500 Soap Use are the natural taxing process of the initial statement 22.4 2000 Gold 1000 Nutraloaf 1100 Starch 1200 Sugar 1300 Glycine 1400 Hydrogen 1500 Pepsi Cola (1600 Peptide 1 1700 Peptide 6 1800 Peptide 3) 4100 Foods these are the nutrient for the system 22.5 131 Female Voice 144 Your Voice 155 Kick Drum 165 Kick Transient 175 Pots N Pans 185 Pots Content 196 Button Mushroom 220 Cache 240 Stash 262 Marisol 276 Clorox 296 Bluewater 300 Source 315 Febreeze 330 Peroxide 350 Nitrate 370 Ammonium 396 Loam 420 Bud 440 Dirt 470 Wheat 496 Soil 512 Potato these are the farm goods for the system 22.6 541 Muffler 581 Transmission 641 Piston 681 Engine 741 Cargo 781 Chassis 841 Fluids 900 Vaseline 999 Nutraloaf 1090 Soylent These are the willis goods of the situation 22.6 60HZ Patient Voice 131HZ Therapist Voice 300 Breath 650 Reanolin 1400 Aquaporin 4100 Cholesterol 6500 Weed 10000 Cocaine 13500 Amide 17000 Lisuride these are the tactical therapist of the situation, normally limited to cholesterol below and tuned to exact bodily process 22.7 -18 Utility This takes 125% 3.00Q to Mid, where a Dual And Dual Q resolves it at -33(MID), and can adjust for the natural armor process of the body -20-0 gate to adjust for the high signal 22.8 5000 Prozac 5100 Benadryl 5200 Scopolamine 5300 Atropine 5400 Benzyldiol this is the resuscitators of the situation 22.9 At 69 percent of 100 percent of the auto filter, 85% resonance is automatic mid 23.0 Drum Bus or Mike Mode 23.1 Drum bus makes the oil automatically virtual like modulator mode 23.2 Drum bus oil is especially good for general tasks, but it virtual 23.3 Drum buss summons the better drummer out of the bus 23.4 Drum bus is able to be flangebent 23.5 Drum bus is similar to communion but just mike 23.6 Drum bus allows for the shape of the item to be controlled 23.7 Drum buss allows for quality assurance to be undertaken 23.8 Drum bus makes the item profiled by mike the drummer from garageband 23.9 Jake the Drummer from Garageband Generally profiles and designs the item otherwise 24.1 Drive Sends the Signal to pikachu 24.1 Drive makes the world on the pikadollar standard above 3 use in chain 24.2 Drive increases oil yield 24.3 Drive is similar to flaring but is in reverse, adds pyrolysis to the product but also flares 24.4 Drive can be used to flare and actually control beyond flaring a aeronautical ship 24.5 Drive can be used for afterburners 24.6 Drive increases the torque of electric engines and their tone 24.7 Drive can be used to amputate a torn limb or saw something when used with osc 24.8 Drive can be used to extract oil better underground with tuning high and low 24.9 Drive is a typical stimulant which assumes the amine profile and is a critical part of transition metals.
submitted by Blockchain-TEMU to u/Blockchain-TEMU [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 03:54 Azrael_Ze May 16th Weekly Update Details
 | Langrisser Mobile will undergo maintenance on May 16th at 01:00 (GMT-5). The maintenance process is expected to last for 60 minutes, during which, commanders will not be able to log into the game. We're sorry for any inconvenience this may cause! After the maintenance is completed, you'll be able to enter the game and continue your glorious adventure! submitted by Azrael_Ze to langrisser [link] [comments] ⏰[𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞] 𝟎𝟏:𝟎𝟎-𝟎𝟐:𝟎𝟎 (𝐆𝐌𝐓-𝟓) ⚔[𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬] 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 💰[𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧] After the maintenance is completed, 3 Advanced Crafter's Hammers and 50,000 Gold will be sent to your in-game mailbox within a few hours. Please don't forget to check your mail! Limited-Time Summon — Langrisser Reincarnation Destiny Summon Event Time: May 16th, 06:00 - May 29th, 23:59 (GMT -5) During the limited-time "Langrisser Reincarnation Destiny Summon" event, you'll have an increased chance of obtaining SSR Heroes Julian, Werner Dime, and Patsyr! Destiny Summon: The first SSR hero you draw during this event is guaranteed to be an event banner SSR hero you don't yet have. If you summon a hero from this event who has already been upgraded to six stars, you will obtain Spacetime Essence. You can exchange Spacetime Essence and the Memory Shards of a hero at max stars for Memory Shards of other heroes obtainable from Langrisser's current summoning banners! You can exchange each hero's Memory Shards up to one time for 50 shards each. Info: Please note that the number of Spacetime Essence exchange chances will differ based on whether the corresponding summoning banner features 2 selected event heroes, or whether it features 3 selected event heroes (Destiny Summon). Please be aware of the number of exchange chances and Memory Shards required before exchanging Spacetime Essence for Memory Shards! Limited-Time Summon — Heroes of Destiny Event Time: May 16th, 06:00 - May 29th, 23:59 (GMT -5) During the limited-time "Heroes of Destiny" summoning event, you'll have an increased chance of summoning SSR Bernhardt, Elwin, and Leon! Destiny Summon: The first SSR hero you summon during this event is guaranteed to be an event banner SSR hero you don't have yet. If you summon a hero from this event who has already been upgraded to six stars, you will obtain Spacetime Essence. You can exchange Spacetime Essence and the Memory Shards of a hero at max stars for Memory Shards of other heroes obtainable from Langrisser's current summoning banners! You can exchange each hero's Memory Shards once for 50 shards each. Info: Please note that the number of Spacetime Essence exchange chances will differ based on whether the corresponding summoning banner features 2 selected event heroes, or whether it features 3 selected event heroes (Destiny Summon). Please be aware of the number of exchange chances and Memory Shards required before exchanging Spacetime Essence for Memory Shards! https://preview.redd.it/xzo4umel2p0d1.jpg?width=760&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4a10379280c1b5ce80f9bb1f9c283bf09fbe5061 Limited-Time Event — Ultra Freedom Aniki Event Time: After the May 16th Maintenance - May 22nd, 23:59 (GMT -5) During the event, commanders can choose the rewards of each tier within the designated range. Spend a certain amount of Trinity Crystals to win awesome prizes! The grand prize is a Pick 1 from 6 Skin Gift Pack that includes SSR Hero Theon's limited-edition skin "Darkwalker"! See the event's "Info" for detailed rules. Trinity Vouchers, Every Day! — Daily Mission Completion Reward Upgrade Event Time: May 16th, 0:00 - May 22nd, 23:59 (GMT -5) During the event, the reward for "Complete all daily missions (except consuming Stamina missions in the Secret Realm)" is upgraded to Trinity Voucher *1. Rewards for other daily missions remain the same. Limited-Time Popular Skins Reissue Sale Time: After the May 16th Maintenance - May 29th, 23:59 (GMT -5) During the event, the skins Light of Genesis "Star Sweeper," Young Jessica "Universe Patrol," and other popular skins will be reissued in the Skin Store for a limited time! Go visit the Skin Store, commander! Limited-Time Event — Hero Preview Event Time: After the May 16th Maintenance - May 22nd, 23:59 (GMT -5) During the event, log into the game every day and unlock new hero profiles on the event page to get exciting rewards. Super Value Gift Pack Available in the Store Sale Time: After the May 16th Maintenance - May 29th, 23:59 (GMT -5) Traveler's Bag $1.99/3-Purchase Limit. This Gift Pack includes: Trinity Voucher *2, Bro's Big Burger *2, and lots of Gold. Gate of Fate Gift Box $29.99/1-Purchase Limit. This Gift Pack includes: Trinity Crystal *1048, Wheel of Fate *20, Rare Enchant Gift Pack *5, and lots of Gold. Use the official website recharge to get an Extra 5% of Trinity Crystals to the recharge amount! *👉 *https://us.zlongame.com/next/recharge/#/mycart?name=langrisser |
2024.05.16 03:53 shakinandbreakin [WTS] Zeiss V4 3-12, Leupold Mk4 4.5-14, Leupold Vari-X III 6.5-20, Vortex Crossfire RDS, 12.5 mid upper, Sportsmatch Tikka rings, USP TLR-3, LPK, A2 grips, Brace kit w/ H2, M4 stock kit, Buffer tube, RPR stock, Mepro Glock rear, Moe rifle length, Extra salt Troy quad rail
Timestamp
Offloading some parts I have laying around. Feel free to hmu with any questions in PM. Payment via paypal FF. Prices shipped & insured
Zeiss Conquest V4 3-12x44 Plex -$550 $525
Vortex Crossfire RDS - $100
Carbine buffer tube with end plate and castle nut - $25 $20 Sold
$60 $55
$60 $55
$55 $50 each
submitted by shakinandbreakin to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]
Offloading some parts I have laying around. Feel free to hmu with any questions in PM. Payment via paypal FF. Prices shipped & insured
Zeiss Conquest V4 3-12x44 Plex -
- Had this on a hunting rifle, saw maybe 30rd of use only at the range. The bikini cover was cut on accident.
- Some light rings marks, otherwise in good shape. Pricing based off of ebay. Catch and release
- 1" tube, nice condition. Plex reticle. Pricing based off of ebay. Catch and release, will ship in vortex box.
Vortex Crossfire RDS - $100
- Catch and release, saw less than 30rd of use
- Aero slick upper
- Kak 12.5 barrel
- BCM MCMR-9 rail with rail covers, handstop, qd sling mount
- LPGB sticking out of handguard
- Franklin BCG and milspec CH
- No muzzle device, comes w/ rubber thread protector
- Sub 300rd count
- Brace and tube from a galil clone, H2 buffer and spring was used with the 12.5 upper for less than 30rd
- 7075 Tube, end plate, castle nut are new. Spring, buffer, and stock light use
7075 Tube light use, end plate and castle nut new
- Catch and release, never got to use it for anything
- Had on a faux dissy for a bit, light use
- Complete LPK with a2 grip and mil spec trigger. Trigger and grip are takeoffs, everything else new
- Extra extra salt
- FSP cutout at carbine length
- Chopped to 11.5"
- Threads are stripped out of one of the holes
- No barrel nut
- Can throw in an extra battery, had on my USP on and off
- Catch and release, I don't have a Glock but it looks neat
- TO84 30mm medium rings, was used with the Zeiss very briefly. Has roll pin
- HTO74 30mm high rings, never used only pulled out for pics. No roll pin, didn't have it when I opened the box. Hole for roll pin is ~0.163"
2024.05.16 03:53 AbbreviationsNo55 For the aussies
I'm living in Australia, and I'm doing a DNA Test Kit. How do I mail it? Do I literally just drop it in the local mail box?
Will anything be mailed back to me or is it just the results I get online?
submitted by AbbreviationsNo55 to AncestryDNA [link] [comments]
Will anything be mailed back to me or is it just the results I get online?
2024.05.16 03:51 dicewhore When will uscis add my i765 online? Been a few weeks
I sent uscis my i765 to the Dallas lockbox, available for pickup may 3rd 6:20pm and says it was delivered to PO Box on may 5th 6:46am.
But it’s been a few weeks and uscis has not added it to my account ? No letter in mail saying received? Is this normal? What should I do?
submitted by dicewhore to USCIS [link] [comments]
But it’s been a few weeks and uscis has not added it to my account ? No letter in mail saying received? Is this normal? What should I do?
2024.05.16 03:41 Loose-Hovercraft5275 T3 Return - Estate Account on Parent - 5 Years Later
Hi, Hope this is the right place to post this question. Its about final taxes upon death in Ontario. Sorry for the long story but it helps give more background.
Mom passed away is 2018. My brother and I are both executors in the Will. Sold house split everything. My brother told me he will complete her final taxes and had all her mail forwarded to his address.
My brother and I do not get along. We had a huge falling out before our mother past and after she died we haven't stayed in touch.
Fast forward to 2023, my brother texts to tell me that an investment company contacted him about a RRIF account in our mother's name for just a little over $8000.00 that wasn't closed in 2018.
So from 2018 to 2023 there was an increase in the RRIF of approx. $2000.00.
The actual T4RIF slip we received from the investment company entered the following into the numbered boxes on the slip:
Box 22 $2108.83 Other Income
Box 36 $1679.21 Tax Paid Amount
So, looking at the T3 Return which the accountant filled out, I see $1679.21 under tax deducted. I believe this is what he meant when he told me there was a refund of approx. $1600 coming back. Because this is the amount carried forward to the end of the return where it says (-) amount is a tax refund.
Then I receive a letter from CRA - T3 Verification Department. It says that the T4RIF slip does not support the claim for tax deducted. I sent the CRA letter to my accountant and his reply was:
Based on CRA’s letter, they disallowed the refund and treated it as taxes paid.
This was misleading to us, and we treated it as withholding taxes. However, there is no taxes owing and CRA will make the necessary changes.
Then I receive the T3 Assessment from the CRA telling me that $988.47 is owed. Why would there be $988.47 owed on income of only $1827. Also, this has to be paid by May 28th. I have to wait months and months for the CRA to even receive the WILL and I have only 2 weeks to pay this.
Below is exactly how it was written on the Assessment.
T3 Assessment:
Taxable Income $1827
Federal Tax Payable $602.91
Provincial Tax Payable $375.08
Arrears Interest $10.48
Total Owing: $988.47
I'm assuming these higher tax payable amounts are because her taxes were not completed until 5 years after she passed. The Federal Tax Payable alone is 33% ! Thanks brother!
Also, regarding the T4RIF slip, what does Box 36 TAX Paid Amount even mean? The investment company filled this out and sent it to us. To me, it sounds like Tax was paid?
When I called the CRA to question what was going on I heard various responses. They really don't seem to be confident in their answers. I spoke with 2 different agents. One CRA agent doesn't do Estates and cannot answer. The other person had more information and she kept leaving me on hold to find out and then finally she said the $1679 wasn't tax deducted but didn't know why the investment company put that amount into box 36 as TAX paid. So frustrating.
Also, when asking for an extension to pay or a payment plan the CRA agent said i would have to speak with another department. OMG I already spent 2 hrs on the phone. She did say that they will not give any relief for Estate accounts but may extend the time. But the interest will still be added the longer I take to pay.
As for my brother, I sent him the assessment yesterday. Not a reply.
Unfortunately, we had already split the money after the accountant and told me that everything was done and that we would be getting a refund. I believed him and both me and my brother took our share.
So I guess I'm on the hook now paying the full amount instead of only my half. Unbelievable. Try to do the right thing and look what it gets you.
Well if you reached this far I appreciate your time and thank you for any advice anyone may have.
submitted by Loose-Hovercraft5275 to PersonalFinanceCanada [link] [comments]
Mom passed away is 2018. My brother and I are both executors in the Will. Sold house split everything. My brother told me he will complete her final taxes and had all her mail forwarded to his address.
My brother and I do not get along. We had a huge falling out before our mother past and after she died we haven't stayed in touch.
Fast forward to 2023, my brother texts to tell me that an investment company contacted him about a RRIF account in our mother's name for just a little over $8000.00 that wasn't closed in 2018.
So from 2018 to 2023 there was an increase in the RRIF of approx. $2000.00.
The actual T4RIF slip we received from the investment company entered the following into the numbered boxes on the slip:
Box 22 $2108.83 Other Income
Box 36 $1679.21 Tax Paid Amount
So, looking at the T3 Return which the accountant filled out, I see $1679.21 under tax deducted. I believe this is what he meant when he told me there was a refund of approx. $1600 coming back. Because this is the amount carried forward to the end of the return where it says (-) amount is a tax refund.
Then I receive a letter from CRA - T3 Verification Department. It says that the T4RIF slip does not support the claim for tax deducted. I sent the CRA letter to my accountant and his reply was:
Based on CRA’s letter, they disallowed the refund and treated it as taxes paid.
This was misleading to us, and we treated it as withholding taxes. However, there is no taxes owing and CRA will make the necessary changes.
Then I receive the T3 Assessment from the CRA telling me that $988.47 is owed. Why would there be $988.47 owed on income of only $1827. Also, this has to be paid by May 28th. I have to wait months and months for the CRA to even receive the WILL and I have only 2 weeks to pay this.
Below is exactly how it was written on the Assessment.
T3 Assessment:
Taxable Income $1827
Federal Tax Payable $602.91
Provincial Tax Payable $375.08
Arrears Interest $10.48
Total Owing: $988.47
I'm assuming these higher tax payable amounts are because her taxes were not completed until 5 years after she passed. The Federal Tax Payable alone is 33% ! Thanks brother!
Also, regarding the T4RIF slip, what does Box 36 TAX Paid Amount even mean? The investment company filled this out and sent it to us. To me, it sounds like Tax was paid?
When I called the CRA to question what was going on I heard various responses. They really don't seem to be confident in their answers. I spoke with 2 different agents. One CRA agent doesn't do Estates and cannot answer. The other person had more information and she kept leaving me on hold to find out and then finally she said the $1679 wasn't tax deducted but didn't know why the investment company put that amount into box 36 as TAX paid. So frustrating.
Also, when asking for an extension to pay or a payment plan the CRA agent said i would have to speak with another department. OMG I already spent 2 hrs on the phone. She did say that they will not give any relief for Estate accounts but may extend the time. But the interest will still be added the longer I take to pay.
As for my brother, I sent him the assessment yesterday. Not a reply.
Unfortunately, we had already split the money after the accountant and told me that everything was done and that we would be getting a refund. I believed him and both me and my brother took our share.
So I guess I'm on the hook now paying the full amount instead of only my half. Unbelievable. Try to do the right thing and look what it gets you.
Well if you reached this far I appreciate your time and thank you for any advice anyone may have.
2024.05.16 03:27 anadultSusie My little dog has to go outside to potty every single night
 | We adopted our Maltese/poodle mix, who we named Captain Salty, from the shelter in December. He is about 8 pounds and just over a year old. At first he kept having accidents in his crate. At first it was just pee then it turned into him pooping every night. submitted by anadultSusie to DogAdvice [link] [comments] I got a baby monitor for him so I could let him out once I heard him whining figuring it beat cleaning poop of him every morning. The pooping went on only for a 4 mornings before I got the monitor. Now I get up every night to let him go out. I’m exhausted. I feel like I have a new born. I’ve tried giving him extra walks at night and making sure he goes out to potty before bed. I’m thinking of putting a litter box in a bigger crate for him but I’ve heard that can cause issues too. I’ve talked to the vet and a trainer. They suggested the extra walk and taking food away etc. Has anyone else gone through anything like this and come out the other side? Advice please! |
2024.05.16 02:48 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
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I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:46 OrganizationFalse668 [WTS] Good Silver and Coin Deals!
Shipping and Payment
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
“ Risky “ 1st class 🫧 envelope non-machinable $2 -
I take Zelle , Venmo , Cash App , Mailed Cash and trades for gold, goldbacks , platinum and palladium.
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off its the responsibility of USPS.
Please ask for photos or if I have multiple of the same item!
Date Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
$100 army man rainbow 🌈 lot
1oz cannabis silver and copper
3 90% half
A Morgan and a mercury dime
$100 shipped
You can have the army man.
PRE-33 GOLD
https://imgur.com/a/MNAYZip
1908 D $5 Gold $1300
https://imgur.com/a/xINXuM0
1927 2.5 gold $800
https://imgur.com/a/diOJZvh
1914 D 2.5 Gold $700
https://imgur.com/a/PX94LL9
1901 2.5 Gold $650
https://imgur.com/a/mExBjEn
SILVER COINS AND ROUNDS 🕰️
Niue 1oz silver Aerosmith 1 oz $31
1oz silver 5 mark Germania “ witchcraft “ - $60
Homer Simpson 2019 donut $70
Simpson family Christmas $55
1oz silver Superman Samoa 🇼🇸 $5 coin $38
Spider-Man 1oz $45
St. Lucia 2020 1 oz silver lizard 🦎 $33
2021 Wonder Woman 1oz $70
Batman 1oz $70
Scarface 1 oz $40
🥤 Coca-Cola 1 oz silver round 1 oz $33
Grogu Star Wars 1oz silver $33
🇺🇸 Army 1 oz silver bar / round $33
Bar 1
Bar 2 digital camouflage
Street fighter chun lee 1oz 🇯🇵 - $33
Wolverine 1oz 🇨🇦 $50
The Godfather 1oz silver $40
Silver Bart Simpson 1 oz $60 🛹
2023 Homer Simpson carded 1 oz $60 📷
SWAMP THING 1oz colorized- $75 📷
2024 silver shield 1oz silver cannabis round $38
ET 🪐 Niue 1oz 2 dollar movie poster bar $45
1 oz trump wanted rounds $32
Beavis and butthead 🔥 🧻 1 oz silver
$80
Intaglio Mint 1oz “ the 4 seasons “ nude art 🖼️ round $60
Donald Duck $40
1991 liberty lobby 1/2 oz round - $14 each 4 available
This is under spot slightly ⭐️
FRANCE 🇫🇷 10 franc 1965 silver .8134 asw
$26
1oz Silver Camel Cigarettes Joe Camel 🐪 - $65
Disneys snow White doc 1 oz $70
1 oz proof ablum
https://imgur.com/a/tYA9NDZ
Silver $1 commemorative
Capsule only
Baseball $1 proof $28 !!!
Lewis and Clark proof $28
2011 infantry no box $33
1992 Columbus $1 - $28
D-day $1 bu $28
Wright brothers $1 $28
Capsule proof:
https://imgur.com/a/9sCzhiP
In original mint packaging 📷
1993 WW2 2 coin set $1 - $35
1993 WW2 2 coin set proof $33
1994 World Cup 2 coin set $27 !
1995 civil war battlefield 2 coin proof set $30
1995 Olympic cyclist 🚴 proof $30
1995 Olympic track and field proof $30
1996 national community service proof $27
1996 Smithsonian $1 proof $27
1998 Robert f Kennedy $1 proof - $35
1999 Yellow stone national park $35
2003 wright brothers first flight $1 proof - $29
2006 San Francisco old Mint $1 proof $28
Benjamin Franklin founding father proof $35
2012 Infantry Soldier $1 $40
Comm proof:
https://imgur.com/a/iaF31xI
Silver Dollars 💵
1883 o $100
2007 ASE certified $38
2006 ASE certified $38
Nicer 1921 Morgan in cap $38
1926 D peace dollar $33
1887 $1 - $70
1921 Morgan plastic flip $45
1886 $1 $70
1922 peace dollar $26 !!!! 🔥
Better 1922 peace dollar $26
Nice 1922 peace dollar $26
1925 peace dollar $26
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/fBk2WiY
1921 Morgan MS $60
1896 Morgan $65
1885 Morgan $90
1878 CC $1 $170
1897 $1 $85
1890 O $1 $80
1921 MS $60
Proof;
https://imgur.com/a/jJbdBJa
Glass Panther Art pours and more,
🥤🍔🌎🦩🌞🧊
Fallout New Vegas
Lucky 38 1oz silver “ platinum chip “ $45
Vintage 1977 Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar
Nashville TN $70
Norfolk Va $70
Atlanta $70
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar $35
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver round $35
Coca-Cola Christmas 2019 Fiji Santa Clause 1oz - $50 🎅
Fiji 🇫🇯 1oz coca-cola bottle cap $149 📷
10k gold coca-cola pin 📌 $150 📷
7.5 oz 1:1 scale .999 silver derringer - $400 ⭐️
3oz M4 🐆 $199 ! 🔥
1oz army man $90
Sunshine 1oz $140
Cyborg 1oz $140
Smurf 1 oz $35
Art cola Proof ;
https://imgur.com/a/mlUyEQZ
HALF DOLLARS and more 💵
1822 Bust half dollar $75
1825 bust half dollar $70
1876 seated half $50
1896 O Barber half $60
1895 p barber half $30
1952 Washington/ carver half $25
1877 seated half $45
Booker T Half $25
1964 MS 50c $14
1963 D 50c unc $18
1955 Canada 50c $15 🔥
1992 silver 50c proof $15 🔥
2005 s silver proof $15 🔥
1858 50C $70
Canada silver 5 cents $6
1857 dime $20
1923 mercury dime $3
1937 mercury dime au $12
1936 AU mercury dime $13
1927 mercury dime $4
Barber dime coa $4
Ohio silver quarter $12
1XX3 seated quarter $18
1955 ms quarter $12
1964 ms quarter $9
1904 p 25c $8
1908 O 25c $10
1912 d 10c $9
Metal detector dime $5
1909 p barber dime $19
1903 p 25c $9
1916 p barber $4
1912 D $5
1916 $6
1907 $8
1914 10c $12
1832 half dime $90 📷
Proof
https://imgur.com/a/PhO1Bhq
SETS 📺 📷
Silver war nickel set $8
Dimes of the 20th century $6
Bill of rights silver 50c young collector set
$19
Buy all for $25 . Great deal.
Jewelry 💍
1 gram 10k earrings $25
7 gram. 925 bracelet $7
Take both for $31
https://imgur.com/a/H4Nrark
Rarities 🦜 📷
1/4 oz art bar gilded Halloween $35
1/4 oz art bar gilded Pug $35
COPPER 📣
Copper Cannabis Leaf 🍁 Round $2
2023 year of the Dragon 🐉 copper round $2
Lincoln Wheat Cent 1oz COPPER $2
Copper proof;
https://imgur.com/a/b6dcW1Y
🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 GOLD 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸
0 - 2021 New Hampshire 1 GoldBack $5 each - free ihp with purchase and ground shipping limit 4 ihp
I’m out of these, sell me or trade for cheap.
https://imgur.com/a/JBEAJ4j
Bank of America 10k pendant with seed pearls , I think it’s 3.6 grams. $120 📷
Bank of America 10k pin 📌 no pearls, $100
📷
Fractional silver
1 gram silver in card $1.70
📷 https://imgur.com/a/x4CsSMR
CANADA SILVER 🇨🇦 🍁
Canada 1955 50c $20 📷
Canada $1 1987 proof $20 📷
Superman $20 silver $25
Batman vs Superman Canada $20 silver coin $29
Bugs Bunny $20 silver $35
Star trek 2016 silver $20 coin. $35
2016 Canada $20 silver T-Rex $25
2014 Canada $20 Snowman $22 2014 Canada $20 silver summer swimming coin $22
Canada proof
https://imgur.com/a/bUSuicI
Bank bag assortment lot that I forgot:
Futurama Shut up and take my money 1oz - $45
From glass panther
vintage coke bar 1oz $65
2014 icg panda $38
St. Lucia 1 oz lizard 🦎 $31
Trump wanted $32
https://imgur.com/a/q8pR7c3
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
Risky envelope shipping $2
I take Zelle and Venmo Cash App and Mailed Cash and small gold or 1 goldbacks @3.75
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off it is the responsibility of USPS
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
submitted by OrganizationFalse668 to CoinSales [link] [comments]
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
“ Risky “ 1st class 🫧 envelope non-machinable $2 -
I take Zelle , Venmo , Cash App , Mailed Cash and trades for gold, goldbacks , platinum and palladium.
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off its the responsibility of USPS.
Please ask for photos or if I have multiple of the same item!
Date Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
$100 army man rainbow 🌈 lot
1oz cannabis silver and copper
3 90% half
A Morgan and a mercury dime
$100 shipped
You can have the army man.
PRE-33 GOLD
https://imgur.com/a/MNAYZip
1908 D $5 Gold $1300
https://imgur.com/a/xINXuM0
1927 2.5 gold $800
https://imgur.com/a/diOJZvh
1914 D 2.5 Gold $700
https://imgur.com/a/PX94LL9
1901 2.5 Gold $650
https://imgur.com/a/mExBjEn
SILVER COINS AND ROUNDS 🕰️
Niue 1oz silver Aerosmith 1 oz $31
1oz silver 5 mark Germania “ witchcraft “ - $60
Homer Simpson 2019 donut $70
Simpson family Christmas $55
1oz silver Superman Samoa 🇼🇸 $5 coin $38
Spider-Man 1oz $45
St. Lucia 2020 1 oz silver lizard 🦎 $33
2021 Wonder Woman 1oz $70
Batman 1oz $70
Scarface 1 oz $40
🥤 Coca-Cola 1 oz silver round 1 oz $33
Grogu Star Wars 1oz silver $33
🇺🇸 Army 1 oz silver bar / round $33
Bar 1
Bar 2 digital camouflage
Street fighter chun lee 1oz 🇯🇵 - $33
Wolverine 1oz 🇨🇦 $50
The Godfather 1oz silver $40
Silver Bart Simpson 1 oz $60 🛹
2023 Homer Simpson carded 1 oz $60 📷
SWAMP THING 1oz colorized- $75 📷
2024 silver shield 1oz silver cannabis round $38
ET 🪐 Niue 1oz 2 dollar movie poster bar $45
1 oz trump wanted rounds $32
Beavis and butthead 🔥 🧻 1 oz silver
$80
Intaglio Mint 1oz “ the 4 seasons “ nude art 🖼️ round $60
Donald Duck $40
1991 liberty lobby 1/2 oz round - $14 each 4 available
This is under spot slightly ⭐️
FRANCE 🇫🇷 10 franc 1965 silver .8134 asw
$26
1oz Silver Camel Cigarettes Joe Camel 🐪 - $65
Disneys snow White doc 1 oz $70
1 oz proof ablum
https://imgur.com/a/tYA9NDZ
Silver $1 commemorative
Capsule only
Baseball $1 proof $28 !!!
Lewis and Clark proof $28
2011 infantry no box $33
1992 Columbus $1 - $28
D-day $1 bu $28
Wright brothers $1 $28
Capsule proof:
https://imgur.com/a/9sCzhiP
In original mint packaging 📷
1993 WW2 2 coin set $1 - $35
1993 WW2 2 coin set proof $33
1994 World Cup 2 coin set $27 !
1995 civil war battlefield 2 coin proof set $30
1995 Olympic cyclist 🚴 proof $30
1995 Olympic track and field proof $30
1996 national community service proof $27
1996 Smithsonian $1 proof $27
1998 Robert f Kennedy $1 proof - $35
1999 Yellow stone national park $35
2003 wright brothers first flight $1 proof - $29
2006 San Francisco old Mint $1 proof $28
Benjamin Franklin founding father proof $35
2012 Infantry Soldier $1 $40
Comm proof:
https://imgur.com/a/iaF31xI
Silver Dollars 💵
1883 o $100
2007 ASE certified $38
2006 ASE certified $38
Nicer 1921 Morgan in cap $38
1926 D peace dollar $33
1887 $1 - $70
1921 Morgan plastic flip $45
1886 $1 $70
1922 peace dollar $26 !!!! 🔥
Better 1922 peace dollar $26
Nice 1922 peace dollar $26
1925 peace dollar $26
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/fBk2WiY
1921 Morgan MS $60
1896 Morgan $65
1885 Morgan $90
1878 CC $1 $170
1897 $1 $85
1890 O $1 $80
1921 MS $60
Proof;
https://imgur.com/a/jJbdBJa
Glass Panther Art pours and more,
🥤🍔🌎🦩🌞🧊
Fallout New Vegas
Lucky 38 1oz silver “ platinum chip “ $45
Vintage 1977 Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar
Nashville TN $70
Norfolk Va $70
Atlanta $70
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar $35
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver round $35
Coca-Cola Christmas 2019 Fiji Santa Clause 1oz - $50 🎅
Fiji 🇫🇯 1oz coca-cola bottle cap $149 📷
10k gold coca-cola pin 📌 $150 📷
7.5 oz 1:1 scale .999 silver derringer - $400 ⭐️
3oz M4 🐆 $199 ! 🔥
1oz army man $90
Sunshine 1oz $140
Cyborg 1oz $140
Smurf 1 oz $35
Art cola Proof ;
https://imgur.com/a/mlUyEQZ
HALF DOLLARS and more 💵
1822 Bust half dollar $75
1825 bust half dollar $70
1876 seated half $50
1896 O Barber half $60
1895 p barber half $30
1952 Washington/ carver half $25
1877 seated half $45
Booker T Half $25
1964 MS 50c $14
1963 D 50c unc $18
1955 Canada 50c $15 🔥
1992 silver 50c proof $15 🔥
2005 s silver proof $15 🔥
1858 50C $70
Canada silver 5 cents $6
1857 dime $20
1923 mercury dime $3
1937 mercury dime au $12
1936 AU mercury dime $13
1927 mercury dime $4
Barber dime coa $4
Ohio silver quarter $12
1XX3 seated quarter $18
1955 ms quarter $12
1964 ms quarter $9
1904 p 25c $8
1908 O 25c $10
1912 d 10c $9
Metal detector dime $5
1909 p barber dime $19
1903 p 25c $9
1916 p barber $4
1912 D $5
1916 $6
1907 $8
1914 10c $12
1832 half dime $90 📷
Proof
https://imgur.com/a/PhO1Bhq
SETS 📺 📷
Silver war nickel set $8
Dimes of the 20th century $6
Bill of rights silver 50c young collector set
$19
Buy all for $25 . Great deal.
Jewelry 💍
1 gram 10k earrings $25
7 gram. 925 bracelet $7
Take both for $31
https://imgur.com/a/H4Nrark
Rarities 🦜 📷
1/4 oz art bar gilded Halloween $35
1/4 oz art bar gilded Pug $35
COPPER 📣
Copper Cannabis Leaf 🍁 Round $2
2023 year of the Dragon 🐉 copper round $2
Lincoln Wheat Cent 1oz COPPER $2
Copper proof;
https://imgur.com/a/b6dcW1Y
🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 GOLD 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸
0 - 2021 New Hampshire 1 GoldBack $5 each - free ihp with purchase and ground shipping limit 4 ihp
I’m out of these, sell me or trade for cheap.
https://imgur.com/a/JBEAJ4j
Bank of America 10k pendant with seed pearls , I think it’s 3.6 grams. $120 📷
Bank of America 10k pin 📌 no pearls, $100
📷
Fractional silver
1 gram silver in card $1.70
📷 https://imgur.com/a/x4CsSMR
CANADA SILVER 🇨🇦 🍁
Canada 1955 50c $20 📷
Canada $1 1987 proof $20 📷
Superman $20 silver $25
Batman vs Superman Canada $20 silver coin $29
Bugs Bunny $20 silver $35
Star trek 2016 silver $20 coin. $35
2016 Canada $20 silver T-Rex $25
2014 Canada $20 Snowman $22 2014 Canada $20 silver summer swimming coin $22
Canada proof
https://imgur.com/a/bUSuicI
Bank bag assortment lot that I forgot:
Futurama Shut up and take my money 1oz - $45
From glass panther
vintage coke bar 1oz $65
2014 icg panda $38
St. Lucia 1 oz lizard 🦎 $31
Trump wanted $32
https://imgur.com/a/q8pR7c3
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
Risky envelope shipping $2
I take Zelle and Venmo Cash App and Mailed Cash and small gold or 1 goldbacks @3.75
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off it is the responsibility of USPS
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
2024.05.16 02:45 OrganizationFalse668 [WTS] Good Silver Deals !
Shipping and Payment
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
“ Risky “ 1st class 🫧 envelope non-machinable $2 -
I take Zelle , Venmo , Cash App , Mailed Cash and trades for gold, goldbacks , platinum and palladium.
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off its the responsibility of USPS.
Please ask for photos or if I have multiple of the same item!
Date Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
$100 army man rainbow 🌈 lot
1oz cannabis silver and copper
3 90% half
A Morgan and a mercury dime
$100 shipped
You can have the army man.
PRE-33 GOLD
https://imgur.com/a/MNAYZip
1908 D $5 Gold $1300
https://imgur.com/a/xINXuM0
1927 2.5 gold $800
https://imgur.com/a/diOJZvh
1914 D 2.5 Gold $700
https://imgur.com/a/PX94LL9
1901 2.5 Gold $650
https://imgur.com/a/mExBjEn
SILVER COINS AND ROUNDS 🕰️
Sale!
1922 peace dollar $26 !!!! 🔥
Better 1922 peace dollar $26
Nice 1922 peace dollar $26
1925 peace dollar $26
Smurf 1 oz $30
St. Lucia 1 oz lizard 🦎 $30
Trump wanted $30
Niue 1oz silver Aerosmith 1 oz $31
1oz silver 5 mark Germania “ witchcraft “ - $60
Homer Simpson 2019 donut $70
Simpson family Christmas $55
1oz silver Superman Samoa 🇼🇸 $5 coin $38
Spider-Man 1oz $45
St. Lucia 2020 1 oz silver lizard 🦎 $33
2021 Wonder Woman 1oz $70
Batman 1oz $70
Scarface 1 oz $40
🥤 Coca-Cola 1 oz silver round 1 oz $33
Grogu Star Wars 1oz silver $33
🇺🇸 Army 1 oz silver bar / round $33
Bar 1
Bar 2 digital camouflage
Street fighter chun lee 1oz 🇯🇵 - $33
Wolverine 1oz 🇨🇦 $50
The Godfather 1oz silver $40
Silver Bart Simpson 1 oz $60 🛹
2023 Homer Simpson carded 1 oz $60 📷
SWAMP THING 1oz colorized- $75 📷
2024 silver shield 1oz silver cannabis round $38
ET 🪐 Niue 1oz 2 dollar movie poster bar $45
1 oz trump wanted rounds $32
Beavis and butthead 🔥 🧻 1 oz silver
$80
Intaglio Mint 1oz “ the 4 seasons “ nude art 🖼️ round $60
Donald Duck $40
1991 liberty lobby 1/2 oz round - $14 each 4 available
This is under spot slightly ⭐️
FRANCE 🇫🇷 10 franc 1965 silver .8134 asw
$26
1oz Silver Camel Cigarettes Joe Camel 🐪 - $65
Disneys snow White doc 1 oz $70
1 oz proof ablum
https://imgur.com/a/tYA9NDZ
Silver $1 commemorative
Capsule only
Baseball $1 proof $28 !!!
Lewis and Clark proof $28
2011 infantry no box $33
1992 Columbus $1 - $28
D-day $1 bu $28
Wright brothers $1 $28
Capsule proof:
https://imgur.com/a/9sCzhiP
In original mint packaging 📷
1993 WW2 2 coin set $1 - $35
1993 WW2 2 coin set proof $33
1994 World Cup 2 coin set $27 !
1995 civil war battlefield 2 coin proof set $30
1995 Olympic cyclist 🚴 proof $30
1995 Olympic track and field proof $30
1996 national community service proof $27
1996 Smithsonian $1 proof $27
1998 Robert f Kennedy $1 proof - $35
1999 Yellow stone national park $35
2003 wright brothers first flight $1 proof - $29
2006 San Francisco old Mint $1 proof $28
Benjamin Franklin founding father proof $35
2012 Infantry Soldier $1 $40
Comm proof:
https://imgur.com/a/iaF31xI
Silver Dollars 💵
1883 o $100
2007 ASE certified $38
2006 ASE certified $38
Nicer 1921 Morgan in cap $38
1926 D peace dollar $33
1887 $1 - $70
1921 Morgan plastic flip $45
1886 $1 $70
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/fBk2WiY
1921 Morgan MS $60
1896 Morgan $65
1885 Morgan $90
1878 CC $1 $170
1897 $1 $85
1890 O $1 $80
1921 MS $60
Proof;
https://imgur.com/a/jJbdBJa
Glass Panther Art pours and more,
🥤🍔🌎🦩🌞🧊
Fallout New Vegas
Lucky 38 1oz silver “ platinum chip “ $45
Vintage 1977 Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar
Nashville TN $70
Norfolk Va $70
Atlanta $70
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar $35
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver round $35
Coca-Cola Christmas 2019 Fiji Santa Clause 1oz - $50 🎅
Fiji 🇫🇯 1oz coca-cola bottle cap $149 📷
10k gold coca-cola pin 📌 $150 📷
7.5 oz 1:1 scale .999 silver derringer - $400 ⭐️
3oz M4 🐆 $199 ! 🔥
1oz army man $90
Sunshine 1oz $140
Cyborg 1oz $140
Art cola Proof ;
https://imgur.com/a/mlUyEQZ
HALF DOLLARS and more 💵
1822 Bust half dollar $75
1825 bust half dollar $70
1876 seated half $50
1896 O Barber half $60
1895 p barber half $30
1952 Washington/ carver half $25
1877 seated half $45
Booker T Half $25
1964 MS 50c $14
1963 D 50c unc $18
1955 Canada 50c $15 🔥
1992 silver 50c proof $15 🔥
2005 s silver proof $15 🔥
1858 50C $70
Canada silver 5 cents $6
1857 dime $20
1923 mercury dime $3
1937 mercury dime au $12
1936 AU mercury dime $13
1927 mercury dime $4
Barber dime coa $4
Ohio silver quarter $12
1XX3 seated quarter $18
1955 ms quarter $12
1964 ms quarter $9
1904 p 25c $8
1908 O 25c $10
1912 d 10c $9
Metal detector dime $5
1909 p barber dime $19
1903 p 25c $9
1916 p barber $4
1912 D $5
1916 $6
1907 $8
1914 10c $12
1832 half dime $90 📷
Proof
https://imgur.com/a/PhO1Bhq
SETS 📺 📷
Silver war nickel set $8
Dimes of the 20th century $6
Bill of rights silver 50c young collector set
$19
Buy all for $25 . Great deal.
Jewelry 💍
1 gram 10k earrings $25
7 gram. 925 bracelet $7
Take both for $31
https://imgur.com/a/H4Nrark
Rarities 🦜 📷
1/4 oz art bar gilded Halloween $35
1/4 oz art bar gilded Pug $35
COPPER 📣
Copper Cannabis Leaf 🍁 Round $2
2023 year of the Dragon 🐉 copper round $2
Lincoln Wheat Cent 1oz COPPER $2
Copper proof;
https://imgur.com/a/b6dcW1Y
🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 GOLD 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸
0 - 2021 New Hampshire 1 GoldBack $5 each - free ihp with purchase and ground shipping limit 4 ihp
I’m out of these, sell me or trade for cheap.
https://imgur.com/a/JBEAJ4j
Bank of America 10k pendant with seed pearls , I think it’s 3.6 grams. $120 📷
Bank of America 10k pin 📌 no pearls, $100
📷
Fractional silver
1 gram silver in card $1.70
📷 https://imgur.com/a/x4CsSMR
CANADA SILVER 🇨🇦 🍁
Canada 1955 50c $20 📷
Canada $1 1987 proof $20 📷
Superman $20 silver $25
Batman vs Superman Canada $20 silver coin $29
Bugs Bunny $20 silver $35
Star trek 2016 silver $20 coin. $35
2016 Canada $20 silver T-Rex $25
2014 Canada $20 Snowman $22 2014 Canada $20 silver summer swimming coin $22
Canada proof
https://imgur.com/a/bUSuicI
Bank bag assortment lot that I forgot:
Futurama Shut up and take my money 1oz - $45
From glass panther
vintage coke bar 1oz $65
2014 icg panda $38
St. Lucia 1 oz lizard 🦎 $31
Trump wanted $31
https://imgur.com/a/q8pR7c3
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
Risky envelope shipping $2
I take Zelle and Venmo Cash App and Mailed Cash and small gold or 1 goldbacks @3.75
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off it is the responsibility of USPS
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
submitted by OrganizationFalse668 to Pmsforsale [link] [comments]
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
“ Risky “ 1st class 🫧 envelope non-machinable $2 -
I take Zelle , Venmo , Cash App , Mailed Cash and trades for gold, goldbacks , platinum and palladium.
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off its the responsibility of USPS.
Please ask for photos or if I have multiple of the same item!
Date Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
$100 army man rainbow 🌈 lot
1oz cannabis silver and copper
3 90% half
A Morgan and a mercury dime
$100 shipped
You can have the army man.
PRE-33 GOLD
https://imgur.com/a/MNAYZip
1908 D $5 Gold $1300
https://imgur.com/a/xINXuM0
1927 2.5 gold $800
https://imgur.com/a/diOJZvh
1914 D 2.5 Gold $700
https://imgur.com/a/PX94LL9
1901 2.5 Gold $650
https://imgur.com/a/mExBjEn
SILVER COINS AND ROUNDS 🕰️
Sale!
1922 peace dollar $26 !!!! 🔥
Better 1922 peace dollar $26
Nice 1922 peace dollar $26
1925 peace dollar $26
Smurf 1 oz $30
St. Lucia 1 oz lizard 🦎 $30
Trump wanted $30
Niue 1oz silver Aerosmith 1 oz $31
1oz silver 5 mark Germania “ witchcraft “ - $60
Homer Simpson 2019 donut $70
Simpson family Christmas $55
1oz silver Superman Samoa 🇼🇸 $5 coin $38
Spider-Man 1oz $45
St. Lucia 2020 1 oz silver lizard 🦎 $33
2021 Wonder Woman 1oz $70
Batman 1oz $70
Scarface 1 oz $40
🥤 Coca-Cola 1 oz silver round 1 oz $33
Grogu Star Wars 1oz silver $33
🇺🇸 Army 1 oz silver bar / round $33
Bar 1
Bar 2 digital camouflage
Street fighter chun lee 1oz 🇯🇵 - $33
Wolverine 1oz 🇨🇦 $50
The Godfather 1oz silver $40
Silver Bart Simpson 1 oz $60 🛹
2023 Homer Simpson carded 1 oz $60 📷
SWAMP THING 1oz colorized- $75 📷
2024 silver shield 1oz silver cannabis round $38
ET 🪐 Niue 1oz 2 dollar movie poster bar $45
1 oz trump wanted rounds $32
Beavis and butthead 🔥 🧻 1 oz silver
$80
Intaglio Mint 1oz “ the 4 seasons “ nude art 🖼️ round $60
Donald Duck $40
1991 liberty lobby 1/2 oz round - $14 each 4 available
This is under spot slightly ⭐️
FRANCE 🇫🇷 10 franc 1965 silver .8134 asw
$26
1oz Silver Camel Cigarettes Joe Camel 🐪 - $65
Disneys snow White doc 1 oz $70
1 oz proof ablum
https://imgur.com/a/tYA9NDZ
Silver $1 commemorative
Capsule only
Baseball $1 proof $28 !!!
Lewis and Clark proof $28
2011 infantry no box $33
1992 Columbus $1 - $28
D-day $1 bu $28
Wright brothers $1 $28
Capsule proof:
https://imgur.com/a/9sCzhiP
In original mint packaging 📷
1993 WW2 2 coin set $1 - $35
1993 WW2 2 coin set proof $33
1994 World Cup 2 coin set $27 !
1995 civil war battlefield 2 coin proof set $30
1995 Olympic cyclist 🚴 proof $30
1995 Olympic track and field proof $30
1996 national community service proof $27
1996 Smithsonian $1 proof $27
1998 Robert f Kennedy $1 proof - $35
1999 Yellow stone national park $35
2003 wright brothers first flight $1 proof - $29
2006 San Francisco old Mint $1 proof $28
Benjamin Franklin founding father proof $35
2012 Infantry Soldier $1 $40
Comm proof:
https://imgur.com/a/iaF31xI
Silver Dollars 💵
1883 o $100
2007 ASE certified $38
2006 ASE certified $38
Nicer 1921 Morgan in cap $38
1926 D peace dollar $33
1887 $1 - $70
1921 Morgan plastic flip $45
1886 $1 $70
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/fBk2WiY
1921 Morgan MS $60
1896 Morgan $65
1885 Morgan $90
1878 CC $1 $170
1897 $1 $85
1890 O $1 $80
1921 MS $60
Proof;
https://imgur.com/a/jJbdBJa
Glass Panther Art pours and more,
🥤🍔🌎🦩🌞🧊
Fallout New Vegas
Lucky 38 1oz silver “ platinum chip “ $45
Vintage 1977 Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar
Nashville TN $70
Norfolk Va $70
Atlanta $70
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver bar $35
Contemporary Coca-Cola 1oz silver round $35
Coca-Cola Christmas 2019 Fiji Santa Clause 1oz - $50 🎅
Fiji 🇫🇯 1oz coca-cola bottle cap $149 📷
10k gold coca-cola pin 📌 $150 📷
7.5 oz 1:1 scale .999 silver derringer - $400 ⭐️
3oz M4 🐆 $199 ! 🔥
1oz army man $90
Sunshine 1oz $140
Cyborg 1oz $140
Art cola Proof ;
https://imgur.com/a/mlUyEQZ
HALF DOLLARS and more 💵
1822 Bust half dollar $75
1825 bust half dollar $70
1876 seated half $50
1896 O Barber half $60
1895 p barber half $30
1952 Washington/ carver half $25
1877 seated half $45
Booker T Half $25
1964 MS 50c $14
1963 D 50c unc $18
1955 Canada 50c $15 🔥
1992 silver 50c proof $15 🔥
2005 s silver proof $15 🔥
1858 50C $70
Canada silver 5 cents $6
1857 dime $20
1923 mercury dime $3
1937 mercury dime au $12
1936 AU mercury dime $13
1927 mercury dime $4
Barber dime coa $4
Ohio silver quarter $12
1XX3 seated quarter $18
1955 ms quarter $12
1964 ms quarter $9
1904 p 25c $8
1908 O 25c $10
1912 d 10c $9
Metal detector dime $5
1909 p barber dime $19
1903 p 25c $9
1916 p barber $4
1912 D $5
1916 $6
1907 $8
1914 10c $12
1832 half dime $90 📷
Proof
https://imgur.com/a/PhO1Bhq
SETS 📺 📷
Silver war nickel set $8
Dimes of the 20th century $6
Bill of rights silver 50c young collector set
$19
Buy all for $25 . Great deal.
Jewelry 💍
1 gram 10k earrings $25
7 gram. 925 bracelet $7
Take both for $31
https://imgur.com/a/H4Nrark
Rarities 🦜 📷
1/4 oz art bar gilded Halloween $35
1/4 oz art bar gilded Pug $35
COPPER 📣
Copper Cannabis Leaf 🍁 Round $2
2023 year of the Dragon 🐉 copper round $2
Lincoln Wheat Cent 1oz COPPER $2
Copper proof;
https://imgur.com/a/b6dcW1Y
🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 GOLD 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸
0 - 2021 New Hampshire 1 GoldBack $5 each - free ihp with purchase and ground shipping limit 4 ihp
I’m out of these, sell me or trade for cheap.
https://imgur.com/a/JBEAJ4j
Bank of America 10k pendant with seed pearls , I think it’s 3.6 grams. $120 📷
Bank of America 10k pin 📌 no pearls, $100
📷
Fractional silver
1 gram silver in card $1.70
📷 https://imgur.com/a/x4CsSMR
CANADA SILVER 🇨🇦 🍁
Canada 1955 50c $20 📷
Canada $1 1987 proof $20 📷
Superman $20 silver $25
Batman vs Superman Canada $20 silver coin $29
Bugs Bunny $20 silver $35
Star trek 2016 silver $20 coin. $35
2016 Canada $20 silver T-Rex $25
2014 Canada $20 Snowman $22 2014 Canada $20 silver summer swimming coin $22
Canada proof
https://imgur.com/a/bUSuicI
Bank bag assortment lot that I forgot:
Futurama Shut up and take my money 1oz - $45
From glass panther
vintage coke bar 1oz $65
2014 icg panda $38
St. Lucia 1 oz lizard 🦎 $31
Trump wanted $31
https://imgur.com/a/q8pR7c3
USPS priority box /envelope $10
USPS 1st class $6 up to 7 oz
Risky envelope shipping $2
I take Zelle and Venmo Cash App and Mailed Cash and small gold or 1 goldbacks @3.75
I make excellent packages but after I drop it off it is the responsibility of USPS
Proof:
https://imgur.com/a/0rTs7b6
2024.05.16 02:45 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to scarystories [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:44 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
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I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:42 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
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I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~