Porch swings for dummies
AITAH
2024.06.09 14:12 Smooth-Housing1979 AITAH
Aitah for cheating on my wife when I thought she cheated on me?
I'm M57 and my wife, let's call her Jane for privacy reasons is F45. Jane and I had been married for twelve years, within our first year of being married we had two beautiful boys, twins, Jake and Sam.
Jane and I met at an annual work party during Christmas time. She was the new hire who didn't have many friends or anyone to talk to. I started paying her more attention, by the end of the night we hit things off pretty well. We started dating a month or two after, casual dating nothing more. It started getting more serious as time went on, one thing led to another and I was down on one knee and she said yes.
Jane grew up on the farms with her dad and brothers so we decided it would be nice to have the ceremony in one of her old barns. We did it up nicely with lights and decorations. I felt like the luckiest man alive. Soon came Jake and Sam. As we weren't expecting twins it was definitely a shock, nonetheless we loved them both. I felt like such a proud father, taking them on strolls in the pram to walks in the park, soon enough I was taking them to soccer games and movie theatres.
After about six years after our boys were born, I noticed a shift in Jane's mood. She no longer liked getting into it when the boys were asleep. She was never home, which was odd to the fact she worked less hours than me. She was always at a yoga class or a friends tea party. All these excuses she had made up made me feel like something more was going on.
I tried ignoring it and focusing on work, as the last thing I'd want it to be was cheating and breaking our family up. I didn't want to believe she could do such a thing. On November 1st, she told me she'd be home early, it was our anniversary. She had a day out with her friends in the local garden centre. I started getting worried when it hit 6pm. Who can look at plants and drink coffee for 9 hours? Not Jane, she gets bored of activities an hour or less in. I assumed maybe she's picking up a nice bottle of wine or something after, but the selection isn't big in the town we live, surely it wouldn't take her long.
I left her some calls, messages even sat on the front porch waiting for hours. It wasn't until Jake came out saying he had a nightmare to when I went back inside. I ended up falling asleep with Jake as I read him a bedtime story. The next morning when I woke up, Jane was in our bed, her clothes scattered all over the room like she was trying to play the floor is lava with her cashmere jumper and denim trousers.
Confused, as anyone would be, I headed to her side and gently shook her away. I'm not the sort of man to start arguments, nor do I like them. I'm not a fan of conflict. I felt as if accusing her of cheating was the worst thing I could ever possibly do. Yet I went ahead and asked her to which she declined and yelled at me for even thinking it.
I felt horrible about myself, like I had just lost her with that question. After that I started relying on work to get me by, it was something to distract my thoughts. Jane became more distant, even if she was home, she'd either be on her phone or the laptop, both to which she changed the passwords on. I'd never be the one to snoop at her phone. The only reason we had each other's phone passwords was for emergency, and well the laptop was actually mine for work. It was my at home computer when covid happened. I don't use it as much now, just a couple games online when I'm bored, yet Jane took it over, changed the passwords and reset the whole thing.
It didn't really matter to me as I never used it, it just made my stomach drop. What if she was hiding something from me? I felt guilty asking myself that question every time she did something odd. Whether it was telling me to sleep on the sofa or to work longer hours. There was a change in her and it wasn't just me that noticed it, Jake and Sam did too. They were too young to understand why mommy didn't want to hang out with them anymore.
I decided to stop trying with Jane, to focus my work hours on work, get a baby sitter for the weekdays and on weekends I'd always take my boys out to fancy restaurants and fun things they'd enjoy. Jane didnt like that. She didn't like it when Sam said the two of them prefer me.
It started an argument between Jane and I, the first conversation we had in months. She told me it was my fault, that she knew I was trying to be their favourite to get back at me.
I didn't know what she meant, infact I was done, our marriage was over, but I needed to salvage it for the kids. My parents divorced when I was ten. It's a horrible experience for anyone of any age. My dad acted like it was my fault. He'd always send me off to mom's house then when I come back he'd act like I wasn't even there. Mom however, tried winning my love with money. Buying me the latest xbox games, consoles, a new phone. Whatever it was, she got it for me. I never asked, never asked her for anything, she'd just show up and shove it in my face as she stood at the door to dad's house with me before passover.
I didn't want my boys feeling upset, angry, thinking its their fault, I needed to stay with Jane till they were old enough to be able to manage their emotions.
Then came along another woman. It had been three years since I asked Jane if she was cheating. For privacy reasons, I'll change her name. F50, her name was Lucy. She was our new neighbour, moved in with her elderly mother. I met her first in the local library as I was picking up some books for myself. She was there signing in for a book card. I introduced myself, told her she's welcome to the block, a formal and nice welcoming. I seen her every Thursday at the library, she'd either be writing, reading or just looking at the bookshelves. Over time we started having some conversations. She knew I was married with kids. The longer this friendship went on, I opened up to her about Jane and I. Something I hadn't told anyone.
She was really supportive, was really there for me. It was comforting to say the less. As time went on, we started hooking up, going on dates and seeing each other on days that weren't only Thursdays.
Lucy was a kindhearted person, she even had her mother take care of my kids for free on weekdays. I felt bad when she said she'd do it free of charge, that she missed when her kids were young. We made a deal, I'd cook her my famous pasta bolognase and she'd mind my kids. Occasionally Lucy would bring Sam and Jake out when her mother was feeling too tired. She'd bring them to the zoo, the ice rink or even out for a day of shopping. I really started to fall in love with her, I don't know if I should have felt guilty about her, having a wife. But I didn't. I felt as if our marriage was over without the documents to show.
Things were going good till one day I was in a rush for work, Lucy had the keys to my house, only for emergency. I would never of taken her home.
I told her to just go inside, the kids lunches are already packed and to just drive them to school. She did what I said however one thing neither of us expected was Jane to be home. As my wife answered the door, I couldn't even imagine what Lucy felt. She said she was the new baby sitter. When I came home that night, I dropped in some pastries to Lucy and her mother then headed home. Jane sat at the kitchen table, a portion of bolognase infront of her, untouched, steaming hot.
She didn't speak for minutes, it felt like hours. I knew I had to tell her, tell her everything.
I began with knowing she cheated on me, how it made me feel, the kids feel. She watched, with zero emotion on her face. Her hand swinging her wine glass around before she'd take a sip.
She laughed, and laughed. She didn't stop. Infact as she stood up, she threw the boiling hot plate at me, to which I had dodged.
She didn't cheat, infact there was a reason she was distant. My wife was graped numerous times in three days by her coworker. My best friend, M52, John. John had too became distant, I guess I thought he was busy.
I fell back, kneeling on the floor as I heard the kids waking up upstairs. My wife stood still, tears in her eyes as she yelled, how I cheated on her when she was graped.
I felt miserable, there's no work in the dictionary that could muster up how I genuinely felt in that moment. Jane and I filed for divorce two months later. She didn't want the boys. I took them. She wanted far from me, from this house. She moved in with her dad back at the farm while Lucy and her mother moved in with me and the boys.
AITAH?
(Edit: a lot of people are being negative in the comments of this story. I would like to of clarify that this is not my story, I am sent these, I copy and paste. English is also not my first language so I apologise, I am learning better now)
submitted by Smooth-Housing1979 to AITAH [link] [comments]
I'm M57 and my wife, let's call her Jane for privacy reasons is F45. Jane and I had been married for twelve years, within our first year of being married we had two beautiful boys, twins, Jake and Sam.
Jane and I met at an annual work party during Christmas time. She was the new hire who didn't have many friends or anyone to talk to. I started paying her more attention, by the end of the night we hit things off pretty well. We started dating a month or two after, casual dating nothing more. It started getting more serious as time went on, one thing led to another and I was down on one knee and she said yes.
Jane grew up on the farms with her dad and brothers so we decided it would be nice to have the ceremony in one of her old barns. We did it up nicely with lights and decorations. I felt like the luckiest man alive. Soon came Jake and Sam. As we weren't expecting twins it was definitely a shock, nonetheless we loved them both. I felt like such a proud father, taking them on strolls in the pram to walks in the park, soon enough I was taking them to soccer games and movie theatres.
After about six years after our boys were born, I noticed a shift in Jane's mood. She no longer liked getting into it when the boys were asleep. She was never home, which was odd to the fact she worked less hours than me. She was always at a yoga class or a friends tea party. All these excuses she had made up made me feel like something more was going on.
I tried ignoring it and focusing on work, as the last thing I'd want it to be was cheating and breaking our family up. I didn't want to believe she could do such a thing. On November 1st, she told me she'd be home early, it was our anniversary. She had a day out with her friends in the local garden centre. I started getting worried when it hit 6pm. Who can look at plants and drink coffee for 9 hours? Not Jane, she gets bored of activities an hour or less in. I assumed maybe she's picking up a nice bottle of wine or something after, but the selection isn't big in the town we live, surely it wouldn't take her long.
I left her some calls, messages even sat on the front porch waiting for hours. It wasn't until Jake came out saying he had a nightmare to when I went back inside. I ended up falling asleep with Jake as I read him a bedtime story. The next morning when I woke up, Jane was in our bed, her clothes scattered all over the room like she was trying to play the floor is lava with her cashmere jumper and denim trousers.
Confused, as anyone would be, I headed to her side and gently shook her away. I'm not the sort of man to start arguments, nor do I like them. I'm not a fan of conflict. I felt as if accusing her of cheating was the worst thing I could ever possibly do. Yet I went ahead and asked her to which she declined and yelled at me for even thinking it.
I felt horrible about myself, like I had just lost her with that question. After that I started relying on work to get me by, it was something to distract my thoughts. Jane became more distant, even if she was home, she'd either be on her phone or the laptop, both to which she changed the passwords on. I'd never be the one to snoop at her phone. The only reason we had each other's phone passwords was for emergency, and well the laptop was actually mine for work. It was my at home computer when covid happened. I don't use it as much now, just a couple games online when I'm bored, yet Jane took it over, changed the passwords and reset the whole thing.
It didn't really matter to me as I never used it, it just made my stomach drop. What if she was hiding something from me? I felt guilty asking myself that question every time she did something odd. Whether it was telling me to sleep on the sofa or to work longer hours. There was a change in her and it wasn't just me that noticed it, Jake and Sam did too. They were too young to understand why mommy didn't want to hang out with them anymore.
I decided to stop trying with Jane, to focus my work hours on work, get a baby sitter for the weekdays and on weekends I'd always take my boys out to fancy restaurants and fun things they'd enjoy. Jane didnt like that. She didn't like it when Sam said the two of them prefer me.
It started an argument between Jane and I, the first conversation we had in months. She told me it was my fault, that she knew I was trying to be their favourite to get back at me.
I didn't know what she meant, infact I was done, our marriage was over, but I needed to salvage it for the kids. My parents divorced when I was ten. It's a horrible experience for anyone of any age. My dad acted like it was my fault. He'd always send me off to mom's house then when I come back he'd act like I wasn't even there. Mom however, tried winning my love with money. Buying me the latest xbox games, consoles, a new phone. Whatever it was, she got it for me. I never asked, never asked her for anything, she'd just show up and shove it in my face as she stood at the door to dad's house with me before passover.
I didn't want my boys feeling upset, angry, thinking its their fault, I needed to stay with Jane till they were old enough to be able to manage their emotions.
Then came along another woman. It had been three years since I asked Jane if she was cheating. For privacy reasons, I'll change her name. F50, her name was Lucy. She was our new neighbour, moved in with her elderly mother. I met her first in the local library as I was picking up some books for myself. She was there signing in for a book card. I introduced myself, told her she's welcome to the block, a formal and nice welcoming. I seen her every Thursday at the library, she'd either be writing, reading or just looking at the bookshelves. Over time we started having some conversations. She knew I was married with kids. The longer this friendship went on, I opened up to her about Jane and I. Something I hadn't told anyone.
She was really supportive, was really there for me. It was comforting to say the less. As time went on, we started hooking up, going on dates and seeing each other on days that weren't only Thursdays.
Lucy was a kindhearted person, she even had her mother take care of my kids for free on weekdays. I felt bad when she said she'd do it free of charge, that she missed when her kids were young. We made a deal, I'd cook her my famous pasta bolognase and she'd mind my kids. Occasionally Lucy would bring Sam and Jake out when her mother was feeling too tired. She'd bring them to the zoo, the ice rink or even out for a day of shopping. I really started to fall in love with her, I don't know if I should have felt guilty about her, having a wife. But I didn't. I felt as if our marriage was over without the documents to show.
Things were going good till one day I was in a rush for work, Lucy had the keys to my house, only for emergency. I would never of taken her home.
I told her to just go inside, the kids lunches are already packed and to just drive them to school. She did what I said however one thing neither of us expected was Jane to be home. As my wife answered the door, I couldn't even imagine what Lucy felt. She said she was the new baby sitter. When I came home that night, I dropped in some pastries to Lucy and her mother then headed home. Jane sat at the kitchen table, a portion of bolognase infront of her, untouched, steaming hot.
She didn't speak for minutes, it felt like hours. I knew I had to tell her, tell her everything.
I began with knowing she cheated on me, how it made me feel, the kids feel. She watched, with zero emotion on her face. Her hand swinging her wine glass around before she'd take a sip.
She laughed, and laughed. She didn't stop. Infact as she stood up, she threw the boiling hot plate at me, to which I had dodged.
She didn't cheat, infact there was a reason she was distant. My wife was graped numerous times in three days by her coworker. My best friend, M52, John. John had too became distant, I guess I thought he was busy.
I fell back, kneeling on the floor as I heard the kids waking up upstairs. My wife stood still, tears in her eyes as she yelled, how I cheated on her when she was graped.
I felt miserable, there's no work in the dictionary that could muster up how I genuinely felt in that moment. Jane and I filed for divorce two months later. She didn't want the boys. I took them. She wanted far from me, from this house. She moved in with her dad back at the farm while Lucy and her mother moved in with me and the boys.
AITAH?
(Edit: a lot of people are being negative in the comments of this story. I would like to of clarify that this is not my story, I am sent these, I copy and paste. English is also not my first language so I apologise, I am learning better now)
2024.06.08 21:47 jak_rott Only Just A Dream
Raindrops on porches lit by twelve outdoor torches
Kisses on foreheads on porch swings with roses
Sights and gazes of stars with all their mazes
Falling in love with each new passing phases
Dream on dream on how could this all be so true
Knock knock knock
Time to get ready for school
submitted by jak_rott to Poem [link] [comments]
Kisses on foreheads on porch swings with roses
Sights and gazes of stars with all their mazes
Falling in love with each new passing phases
Dream on dream on how could this all be so true
Knock knock knock
Time to get ready for school
2024.06.08 19:14 zenpathfinder [WTS] [WTT] Gold, Gold Nuggets, & Vintage and Fancy Silver Served on a Silver Platter (below spot) - Great deals today!
I am not gonna give my password to anyone ever!! 2FA IS ENABLED!! I hope you all do the same.
PROOF & ALBUM - https://imgur.com/a/wUNpI2F
Offers accepted on multiple items.
Open to trades for ASE and 20 franc gold!
More pics available via chat. Just ask.
BIN it and Win it. First to BIN gets it. Otherwise I decide the order in which I respond to chats.
/--------------------------
LUNAR SKULL SILVER ROUNDS - PRICE DROP
https://imgur.com/drjZiTt
https://imgur.com/YPjwHnQ
The Lunar Skulls below are very low mintage and are sold for over $100 each on feebay. The proof coins are limited to 500 and the burnished are limited to 2000. Amazingly cool artwork and if you collect the lunar series stuff, you will love this really cool twist on the subject.
Any blemishes are on the capsules, the coins are very BU. Happy to send more pics if needed.
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $48
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $48
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $48
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $48
1x - 2015 Year of the Goat Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Ghana - $48
BIN ALL 5 Lunar Skulls for $225
/--------------------------
GOLD
1x - 1987 1/10 oz Gold Panda - https://imgur.com/cBKabBK - https://imgur.com/PYioKet - $245
1x - 2022 1/10 oz Gold Philharmonic - https://imgur.com/zozxsNe - https://imgur.com/Xnbt9hx - $245
/--------------------------
VINTAGE & FANCY SILVER
1x - 3.52oz Crazy Train Bullion Kit-Kat, amazing piece by an amazing artist who has since passed away - https://imgur.com/yYJHVdH - https://imgur.com/reRmMdH - $185
1x - 1oz GlassPanther Shut up and take my money pocket piece - https://imgur.com/TlQ1XIZ - $40
1x - 5oz Barbarian w/ Flail poured bar - https://imgur.com/aof1wHo - $160
1x - 10oz Scottsdale Archangel Michael Bar in original package - https://imgur.com/6GtqDGK - https://imgur.com/zme5Lor - $340
/--------------------------
BELOW SPOT SILVER SALE
1x - International Sterling Platter 10.75ozt (9.93ozt ASW) BELOW SPOT - https://imgur.com/vv37fYt - https://imgur.com/1RKSpC5 - https://imgur.com/RV8ZaZ5 - $265
/--------------------------
SOLD STUFF
SOLD1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Martin Luther King - https://imgur.com/n5zyIDi SOLD
SOLD1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Babe Ruth - https://imgur.com/n5zyIDi SOLD
SOLD1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Labor Day 1973 - https://imgur.com/B8AMc0I SOLD
SOLD1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Fathers Day Owl 1973 - https://imgur.com/B8AMc0I SOLD
SOLD1x - 3oz Monarch Precious Metals Skull pour. They don't make 'em in this size any more - https://imgur.com/EP1cIVh SOLD
SOLD1x - 100g Hand Pourd Kit-Kat bar with amazing pour lines and toning - https://imgur.com/PVi5ACT - https://imgur.com/ixefu4Q SOLD
SOLD -1x - Gold Nuggets from Oregon 9 nuggies, some real beautiful pickers, very pure 17.53g - https://imgur.com/dASO02f SOLD
SOLD1x - 2022 1/4 oz Gold Philharmonic in capsule - https://imgur.com/AifaF8Q - https://imgur.com/TQJYudg SOLD
SOLD5x - Vintage Silver 1oz bars & Rounds SOLD
/--------------------------
PAYMENT - Zelle or Venmo (NO NOTES), Paypal F&F, fiat cash, checks, money orders. Checks and Money orders need to fully clear first before I ship anything.
SHIPPING - $5-9. Insurance at your request, charged at cost. I pack and ship like I like to receive it. Nicely secured, padded, and no jingling. I hand deliver to post office for scanning and will provide tracking.
RESPONSIBILITY - It ends when the package shows delivered in tracking. If you have a problem with porch pirates I recommend signature confirmation, which I can provide at cost. All items verified on a Sigma at my LCS. I stand behind what I sell 100%.
SECURITY - All my proof pictures will contain my ZENPATHFINDER silver round name badge that u/UnresolvedEgo made. I love it. You should consider a name badge of your own if you sell. I am no dummy and any "mod" that says I am banned and they need my password to see my chats gets a nice teabagging pic and is reported. I will always use my custom name tag to provide proof via chat, just ask. I have 2FA on my account.
submitted by zenpathfinder to Pmsforsale [link] [comments]
PROOF & ALBUM - https://imgur.com/a/wUNpI2F
Offers accepted on multiple items.
Open to trades for ASE and 20 franc gold!
More pics available via chat. Just ask.
BIN it and Win it. First to BIN gets it. Otherwise I decide the order in which I respond to chats.
/--------------------------
LUNAR SKULL SILVER ROUNDS - PRICE DROP
https://imgur.com/drjZiTt
https://imgur.com/YPjwHnQ
The Lunar Skulls below are very low mintage and are sold for over $100 each on feebay. The proof coins are limited to 500 and the burnished are limited to 2000. Amazingly cool artwork and if you collect the lunar series stuff, you will love this really cool twist on the subject.
Any blemishes are on the capsules, the coins are very BU. Happy to send more pics if needed.
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $48
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $48
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $48
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $48
1x - 2015 Year of the Goat Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Ghana - $48
BIN ALL 5 Lunar Skulls for $225
/--------------------------
GOLD
1x - 1987 1/10 oz Gold Panda - https://imgur.com/cBKabBK - https://imgur.com/PYioKet - $245
1x - 2022 1/10 oz Gold Philharmonic - https://imgur.com/zozxsNe - https://imgur.com/Xnbt9hx - $245
/--------------------------
VINTAGE & FANCY SILVER
1x - 3.52oz Crazy Train Bullion Kit-Kat, amazing piece by an amazing artist who has since passed away - https://imgur.com/yYJHVdH - https://imgur.com/reRmMdH - $185
1x - 1oz GlassPanther Shut up and take my money pocket piece - https://imgur.com/TlQ1XIZ - $40
1x - 5oz Barbarian w/ Flail poured bar - https://imgur.com/aof1wHo - $160
1x - 10oz Scottsdale Archangel Michael Bar in original package - https://imgur.com/6GtqDGK - https://imgur.com/zme5Lor - $340
/--------------------------
BELOW SPOT SILVER SALE
1x - International Sterling Platter 10.75ozt (9.93ozt ASW) BELOW SPOT - https://imgur.com/vv37fYt - https://imgur.com/1RKSpC5 - https://imgur.com/RV8ZaZ5 - $265
/--------------------------
SOLD STUFF
SOLD
SOLD
SOLD
SOLD
SOLD
SOLD
SOLD -
SOLD
SOLD
/--------------------------
PAYMENT - Zelle or Venmo (NO NOTES), Paypal F&F, fiat cash, checks, money orders. Checks and Money orders need to fully clear first before I ship anything.
SHIPPING - $5-9. Insurance at your request, charged at cost. I pack and ship like I like to receive it. Nicely secured, padded, and no jingling. I hand deliver to post office for scanning and will provide tracking.
RESPONSIBILITY - It ends when the package shows delivered in tracking. If you have a problem with porch pirates I recommend signature confirmation, which I can provide at cost. All items verified on a Sigma at my LCS. I stand behind what I sell 100%.
SECURITY - All my proof pictures will contain my ZENPATHFINDER silver round name badge that u/UnresolvedEgo made. I love it. You should consider a name badge of your own if you sell. I am no dummy and any "mod" that says I am banned and they need my password to see my chats gets a nice teabagging pic and is reported. I will always use my custom name tag to provide proof via chat, just ask. I have 2FA on my account.
2024.06.08 15:40 Solupotsongana Sunny Smiles Daycare (pt. 2)
I stopped at the threshold of the door, other kids hopelessly trotting beside me. I peered into the facility. It was a range of nauseating shades of both neon and pastel colors that melded together like fire and ice. While I could see the general outlines of shapes like yellow circles, green squares, and vague silhouettes of toys and chairs, I couldn’t make out any fine details, or even really where everything was. Every time I blinked things looked slightly shifted. I turned to glean a look at the outside world one last time, before crossing the threshold and entering the daycare.
Immediately I knew that something was off. The air was different. It was dry, and thick and itchy. I immediately began to scratch at my throat as more tears pricked my eyes at the stinging atmosphere. The place smelled of sickening saccharine, like the inside of several cheap perfume and candle stores. It was so thick I could taste it and began to cover my nose to hide it from the stench. The whole thing was an assault on the senses.
The walls were almost all made of murky windows, none of which I could see out of effectively. The back wall, which presumably led to the massive dome, had a variety of neon and pastel shapes on a grassy field and blue sky. A large, ever-watchful sun lay at the top of the wall, functioning as a clock. The floor was made out of thick, green carpet. Just from the way I stepped on it, I could tell it would be uncomfortable to sit on. A variety of beanbags and toys were strewn about the room. I headed over to the far wall, where two long rows of multi-colored cubbies were located. One was slightly too high for me to reach, while the other was on the ground. Since I didn’t want my stuff to get stolen on the first day, I went to place it on the top row, standing on my tippy toes to reach it, but I was just barely tall enough to place the bag in the cubby. I ended up crawling down to reach the lower level of cubbies, placing the bag in the cubby taking a few of the surrounding toys, and hiding my pack behind them.
I turned around quickly at a long, groaning sound from behind me. The massive crimson doors began to close like the lid on a crypt. The two silver-haired women were shutting it from the outside.
“Children, form yourselves in a semi-circle at the center of the room,” another silver-haired lady said, standing in the center of the room. Kids from all corners obeyed. Some, the fresher-faced among us, moved with vigor you’d expect of four-year-old children. Others though, ambled over, aching under the burden of movement. They were hunched over, lowering their necks to the floor and scratching at them, creating the illusion of a raw collar of flesh like a leash on a dog. I scanned the sea of 60+ kids, looking for the red hair and verdant eyes that saved my life a moment ago. I found her, sitting at the farthest end of the arc, eyes trained on the floor. I sat down next to her, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Thanks” I whispered my gratitude. She curtly nodded her head but did not respond verbally.
“Children,” the woman began, her stiff tone matching her stance. Four more women had gathered around the speaker, all with wiry silver hair and sharp blue eyes.
“I will now outline the procedures and regulations of this fine facility. We have rules, and any attempt to undermine them will be met with swift retribution. Is that understood?” The children around me snapped from their trance to affirm with enthusiastic head nods. Even the girl beside me fervently nodded. I followed suit.
“Rule one, no one is to talk to anyone about what goes on inside this facility. Any attempt to do so will result in immediate punishment. You will all sign a document later today affirming this, a legally binding contract. Failure or refusal to sign this will result in severe punishment.” Everyone nodded.
“Rule two, everything you have here is a privilege and can be taken from you. This is the consequence of bad behavior.” Everyone nodded, as if on cue.
“Rule three, when asked a question about yourself, you will answer. Failure to do so will result in punishment. Because of the few who are misbehaving, unfortunately, all of you will have to feel the consequences. Normally, the schedule would include a designated playtime, naptime, and sugary snacks would be provided. However, those privileges are removed at the moment on account of some who refuse to cooperate. It doesn’t bother us, and you can make it stop at any time. All you need to do is get those of you who remain tight-lipped to answer our questions, and the discomfort you feel will fade away.” This time, the newer kids, including myself, started to doubt and question. The deal that they offered us seemed too good to be true, comfort for a few honest answers to stupid questions was an easy choice to make. Despite this though, a voice deep within me, experience, nagged at me not to place my faith in them. I couldn’t rationalize it, but I knew I was right in my hesitation to believe them. So often does the serpent lie in flowery bouquets of divine promises, and I was sick of being bit.
Other kids, though, wandered headfirst into the mouth of the snake, turning on each other quickly and sending venomous looks and words toward the many mute kids. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything and sat quietly, twiddling my thumbs.
The silver-haired women didn’t intervene, letting the anger boil and the bickering build to a point where fights were close to breaking out, kids borderline screaming for the silent to speak their peace, but to no avail. Finally, a thunderous, cutting shout snuffed out the fighting. It was a noise with no discernable source because it certainly wasn’t human. It was mechanical, like a plane flying fast and low to the ground. All the same, everyone turned to face the silver-haired woman, and she continued to talk. No one, aside from a few of the fresher-faced, questioned the noise.
“Rule 4, we will have a daily lesson lasting 30 to 45 minutes. These lessons have real, practical applications, and you all would do well to observe. At no point will we teach you false information, and any attempts to undermine the lesson should not be taken seriously, and will be met with punishment.” More nods.
“Rule 5, your comfort and healthcare are things we wish to understand. If at any point there is some intricacy you would like us to be made aware of, such as your favorite color or something that is making you uncomfortable, notify any one of us and it will be taken care of. That is all for now. We will start by playing a game that will let us all get to know you. We will ask questions. Make your choice, and choose wisely,” she finished.
“Now, the game is simple. We will ask one of you a question, and you will answer. Then, you will ask one of your peers the same question, until everyone has answered. Then we will begin the process again. If someone does not answer the question, they will need to place a mark on the star chart under your name,” she said. She pointed over to the wall, where a large colorful smiley face rested on the wall. There were five tiers. Stars dotted the lower four tiers, but none were in the fifth tier.
“Let’s start with you there,” she pointed straight at me, of course.
“What is your name?” The question brought me that familiar numbing, and I knew now that I needed to act fast before I was compelled to say my name. I looked over to the girl, who now had turned to me, and was subtly shaking her head.
My mind scrambled to think of a lie I could tell, reaching for my favorite tv show I had watched two nights back.
“A-Alvin,” I said, color returning to my face in the form of a scarlet blush. I pictured the colorful world of singing chipmunks in my mind, trying to distract myself from the woman's gaze.
“Alvin,” the woman repeated, eyes narrowing. I nodded.
“Very well, Alvin. Please ask a friend the same question, and then go place a star on the chart,”
I pointed to the kid in front of me, passing on the question to him. Then I got up, stepped over and around my peers, and went over to the chart. Next to it stood a cabinet with a glass bowl of golden star stickers.
“Write your name on the star, so we know it’s yours”, the woman called over. I turned to face her, greeted by her devilish gaze.
“I can’t,” I said. I didn’t know how to spell.
“I’ll show you then,” she said, rising to her feet. She quickly strode over towards me. She stood uncomfortably close, towering over me. Once again, she grabbed the spot on my arm now with an uncomfortable welt, and gripped it tightly. She placed a pencil in my hand and began puppeteering my arm to write the word. She started with a sloppy-looking c, followed by an a, l, v, I, and n.
“Now, Alvin, what does that spell?” She asked, her tone deathly serious, her molten stare melting my brain. I could hear my bones begin to creak under the strain of her grip as it tightened, but I didn’t register any pain.
“A-A-Alvin,” I said, stuttering.
“If you don’t tell me your name, young man, the shadows will come to life and eat you. Now, what is your name?” She asked again with growing annoyance.
“Shadows?” I asked, my eyes widening with fear. I could feel that the serpent’s tongue had caught my ear.
“Yes. Shadows, the monsters under your bed. They will come up to you, in your sleep, and they will rip and tear at your flesh, eating you piece by piece, chunk by chunk. Then, they will take your face and wear it as your own, and use it to kill your parents. You’ll be a murderer, even in death, and the devil himself will swallow what little of you is left whole,” she said. “Unless, you give us your name. Without your name, the shadows won’t know who you are, and they won’t be able to find you, and that is a promise” she finished. By this point, the whole of the kids had turned to look at me and the silver-haired woman. Their faces were pale, anemic, the same wide-eyed sickly fear that I’m sure was on my face.
Without missing a beat, the woman took the star with my name on it and placed it on the first tier of the chart.
I won’t bore you with the details of what happened for the rest of the day, because it was honestly pretty mundane. They had everyone learn a basic lesson about shapes and colors, offered some mild but inoffensive food that I didn’t eat at the behest of my polka-dot friend, and just let us do what we wanted for the rest of the day. It was a pretty normal experience. But it didn’t feel that way. Even in our free time, all the children were silent as a grave. No one talked or complained or even cried.
I had asked them about the air, why it was so itchy.
“It’s always like that buddy,” they had said. The closer the clock got to 4, the pick-up time, the closer I moved to the door. I was the first one out when they opened the doors from the outside, the two women outside still standing watch. I had never seen them come in.
But none of that mattered because now, my dad was here. I saw him standing there, nervously tapping his foot, arms crossed. An anxious look was on his face, but only for a moment, and when he saw me a smile returned to it. He ran to meet me and scooped me up into a hug.
“Hi buddy! How was your day?” he asked, a highness in his voice tipping off excitement, worry, and relief. I wanted to tell him everything, all of it, but words that were not my own came out instead. “Great! It was great!” I shouted. The words ‘Rule One’ flashed behind my eyes.
It was exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” He said, nearly brought to tears. “I’m so glad you came around bud!”
I turned back to look at the daycare. All of the women, both in and out of the daycare, had their eyes on me.
In the daycare itself, I saw that many kids hadn’t moved at all. Instead, they watched, their eyes reflecting the light of the outside world. They looked hungry, starved of sunshine and fresh air. None of them moved though. Polka-dot girl was one of them. I saw her withered face snatching feverish glances at the world outside the daycare’s neon walls.
My dad followed my eyes into the daycare, then to the women in white.
“Shouldn’t they be leaving? Are that many parents usually late?” he asked.
“Many parents are not as attentive as you are,” she said, a comforting smile accompanying her words.
My father smiled, satisfaction sweeping away any concern he felt for the children in the daycare.
“I could never forget this one, he is the light of my life,". He gave me a gruff kiss, his stubble scratching at my cheek.
“It shows. He is a wonderful child,” the woman’s eyes shifted onto me, her smile taking on a more malicious tint as her eyes narrowed. My father didn’t seem to notice.
The car ride home is uncomfortably stuffed with questions contrasted by one-word answers. It was all I was capable of without breaking the rule. My father would occasionally peek his face out from behind the seat to check in on me with dewy eyes and a reassuring smile, but I could tell he lacked an understanding of my predicament. His senses were clogged with saccharin optimism, and I don’t blame him in any way. What was happening sounded like something out of a movie, some online conspiracy thread, or political vendetta against the government raising your kid.
The sun started to set, fought off by the rising moon which blanketed the sky in streaking orange banners of conflict. The trees darkened, and the refreshing shade they once offered now turned to foreboding darkness. A thin shroud of mist blanketed the ground. I curled into myself, seeking a reprieve from the woman’s words. Shadows cast by everyday normalities metamorphosed into devils right before the frightened eye of my mind. Even the car’s interior felt vulnerable to the supernatural forces I had matched myself against. Certainly, my father couldn’t protect me. He had failed me before, and the built-in security one should feel around a parent had eroded away from the past year of deceitful assurances.
As crazy as it sounds, the only place I knew I could count on was the daycare. The ones who confirmed the insane, childish notions of monsters in the darkness, seemed prophets of deific wisdom, warning unknowing mortals of their serendipitous ignorance.
After what felt like hours, we arrived back at our home. Dad climbed out of the car, grabbing his and my things, and hoisted me out of the carseat, before setting me on the ground. I looked up at the large house we lived in, taking in it’s features for seemingly the first time. It had a triangular shape, with a pointed roof. Ivy coiled the sides like the side of a castle, and the deep gray paint that once shown proudly was now lost it’s luster, marked by faded streaks. Large black windows reflected the gold of dusk like pools of sunlight. The house cast a long misshapen shadow across the lawn, the tip reaching the end of our driveway.
“C’mon bud, let’s get inside,” he said, striding off towards the stairs. I did my best to follow behind him, but I was neither agile nor graceful in the dim light of dusk, and quickly fell behind. It didn’t help that every few steps I stopped to check behind me.
My father began to whistle, absent-mindedly picking up the tune the birds around us carried. He climbed the cement stairs two at a time, stopping at the large mahogany door to find his keys. I hurried across the driveway and made my way up the path, reaching the first of the stairs. Gripping onto the iron railing I hoisted myself up, fighting to keep the dizzying thought of heights at bay. I repeated the process, each time glancing over my shoulder. I was on the third stair when I heard the pop of the lock, the jingle of keys and the squeaky hinge of the door opening. I looked up the stairs to see my father stepping in the house, taking off his shoes, before he turned, and started to close the door.
“Wait!” I gasped, picking up the pace as I practically threw myself up the fourth stair, abandoning the railing and going on all fours like a ragged animal.
“Oh, Cal I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what happened there, Imust have thought you were inside already,” Dad said, swinging the door open. He stepped out onto the porch and down the stairs, grabbing me up and over his shoulder. I was panting, my breath lost to the stairs. I looked on over the dewy fields of grass constituting the lawns of our neighbors, hoping to find the source of the tune that was still playing. I almost screamed when I found it. Singing a monotone, harsh tune stood a woman in white on the sidewalk parallel to ours across the street. It was the same whistle my father had, like a bird. No, like someone trying to sound like a bird. High pitched and erratic, but with the cadence of a human. She had her eyes on me, on our house, her lips twisted into a toothy grin. She made no sound, but I could hear her. I began to aggressively scratch my throat. We made it into the house, where my father set me down, and began to close the door.
“Look!” I said, peeking my head out through the windows bordering the door.
“What bud?” Dad asked, opening the door and following my gaze.
The fog had intensified, a misty maelstrom swirling around the street, swallowing the woman.
“I’ve never seen fog move like that either bud,” he said, closing and locking the door. Even in the fog, I could still see her silhouette, her whistle running through my ears like a sharp wind.
I ran through the house, frantically searching for my Pointer. I had left it in the living room underneath the beige upholstered couch. It was a blue metal rod with a cartoonish gloved hand that pointed upwards. Because I was so short, it was the only way I could reach the light switches. Starting in the living room, and working my way through the house, I turned on all the lights in the house on the base floor. I didn’t have the nerve to head upstairs alone. The haunting tune of the woman still rang in my ears, only it had gotten louder and more intense. I realized that it wasn’t my imagination, my father was still singing that tune. He stood stiff in the kitchen, chopping something foul-smelling, probably some kind of disgusting vegetable. His eyes looked unfocused like TV static.
“Please stop,” I said from the other room.
“Stop what?” he asked. I attempted to whistle, but instead blew air and saliva with a funny face.
“Whistling?” he asked, amused. I nodded my head.
“Why?” he asked again.
“It hurts my ears,” I said.
“It does? Are you okay bud? You haven’t looked right since yesterday. Are you sick?” He set the knife down on the counter, and moved towards me quickly, bending down and taking my face in his hands. A sharp clarity returned to his eyes, combing my features for any indication of illness or distress. He moved down, placing his ear to my chest, listening for any indication of labored breathing.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just don’t like the whistlering”.
“Whistling,” he corrected, lifting his head to once again look at me, searching for answers.
“You would tell me if something was wrong, right?” he asked, his gruff voice softening.
“Yeah,” I said, looking away. All I could do was lie. He closed his hand into a fist before extending his pinkie.
“Pinkie promise?” he asked. I nodded, holding out my pinkie.
“Alright,” he said, intertwining my pinkie with his.
“Let’s get you settled in okay? We are having macaroni and brussels sprouts.”
Ugh, brussels sprouts. I hated them, the smell and the taste. He hadn’t made them since I had thrown up all over the table after eating a few.
I followed him over to the high chair in the kitchen. It looked like something you would see in a rundown war base in Vietnam, splattered in food and heavily mangled. I was a picky eater, to say the least, and it was only made worse by ignorant, stubborn nannies playing the old “here comes the airplane” gambit. My dad hadn’t had time to replace it yet. He took me under the arms and lifted me into that beat-up old thing. I struggled to get comfortable, the feathered cushion worn down from many battles that had taken place in the chair. It didn’t help that it was far too small for me, I had outgrown it a few months ago and could sit at the regular chairs. He missed a lot of things while at work, and I think knowing that would only make him feel worse, so I went along with it.
My dad went to the rough granite counter and picked through the cabinets, gathering two plates, a plastic bowl, silver forks and spoons, and napkins. He set them down, unfolding and scrunching a napkin into a makeshift bib and tucking it into my shirt. He set down the porcelain plate and pink plastic bowl, before serving the macaroni onto the plate, and scooped the rancid sprouts into the bowl.
I grimaced at the sight of them, my mouth dry at the putrid smell, so strong I could taste it.
My father sat at the opposite end of the table.
“Now I know you aren’t the biggest fan, but we all have to try things we don’t like. And who knows, maybe you’ll come to love brussel sprouts,” he said. It was such a dad thing to say.
The meal carried on, mostly in silence, I avoided the sprouts like an awkward topic of conversation. My father took note of this of course.
“Bud, you haven’t touched your brussel sprouts,” he said, blowing air through his nose. Heavy breathing was always a sign that his frustration was rising. He must have had a long day at work.
I groaned, unable to stop myself from voicing my repugnance. I could tell he wasn’t having it, so with a heavy hand, I speared a sprout on my fork and tentatively took a bite. It took every bit of me not to gag immediately and spit out the rotten thing. It took even more to chew it, slippery and charred, before forcing it down my throat. I looked back at my father, whose face wore a look of charmed satisfaction, like a kid who burnt the feelers of an ant. He was looking at me, but it was like it wasn’t him who was seeing me. He started tapping his silverware on the white tablecloth, muffling the impact of metal on wood, but not enough to keep the melody he crudely played from reaching my ears. It was the whistle of the woman in white.
The lingering taste from the sprout intensified, going for my throat like a hand. It was pungent, itchy, so itchy. I began to claw at my neck once again, the familiar action bringing me back to that daycare with the air that seared my flesh with a molten prickling, like firecrackers stuffed beneath my skin now going off. I began to cough, choking on the taste and smell. I slammed my heels into the chair, my free arm banging furiously against the table, driving it down with such force that the porcelain shattered beneath my hand, leaving cuts in my flesh. My head flew back on its own, hacking and croaking and wheezing with so much force that the chair followed its lead and tipped with me. I hit the ground, hard, blurriness lidding my eyes. The back of my head throbbed with sharp pain. I reached back and felt my hand grazing flesh, the hot stickiness of blood now coating my fingers. My hair was coated in it too, I must have hit the ground much harder than I thought.
“Calvin??!? Calvin!!!” My father rushed to me, jaw agape at the gruesome scene. He fumbled with his pocket as he ran to the kitchen, snatching a roll of paper towels with one hand as he dialed 911 in the other.
“Hello?! My son fell… he hit his head, and his throat? He’s bleeding, and I think he might be having a seizure!” he continued on. “Calvin stop it!” He yelled, trying to wrestle my hand off of my throat. It moved with strength and will that wasn’t my own. He grabbed my forearm, wrenching at it. As soon as his skin touched mine, an explosive pain blazed through my entire body. I felt in that instance what I imagine a nail feels when struck by a hammer, like lightning ruptured through me. An ear-splitting scream erupted out of me, my arm now swelling with purple welts the size of grapefruits. They expanded and contracted, pulsing hypnotically. I heard my bones not just break, but splinter under a force no human could muster.
I can’t recall much of it after that. All I remember was the buzzing neon lights of the ambulance, the wispy voices of horrified nurses, and my father shakily telling the police that he had no idea what had happened.
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Immediately I knew that something was off. The air was different. It was dry, and thick and itchy. I immediately began to scratch at my throat as more tears pricked my eyes at the stinging atmosphere. The place smelled of sickening saccharine, like the inside of several cheap perfume and candle stores. It was so thick I could taste it and began to cover my nose to hide it from the stench. The whole thing was an assault on the senses.
The walls were almost all made of murky windows, none of which I could see out of effectively. The back wall, which presumably led to the massive dome, had a variety of neon and pastel shapes on a grassy field and blue sky. A large, ever-watchful sun lay at the top of the wall, functioning as a clock. The floor was made out of thick, green carpet. Just from the way I stepped on it, I could tell it would be uncomfortable to sit on. A variety of beanbags and toys were strewn about the room. I headed over to the far wall, where two long rows of multi-colored cubbies were located. One was slightly too high for me to reach, while the other was on the ground. Since I didn’t want my stuff to get stolen on the first day, I went to place it on the top row, standing on my tippy toes to reach it, but I was just barely tall enough to place the bag in the cubby. I ended up crawling down to reach the lower level of cubbies, placing the bag in the cubby taking a few of the surrounding toys, and hiding my pack behind them.
I turned around quickly at a long, groaning sound from behind me. The massive crimson doors began to close like the lid on a crypt. The two silver-haired women were shutting it from the outside.
“Children, form yourselves in a semi-circle at the center of the room,” another silver-haired lady said, standing in the center of the room. Kids from all corners obeyed. Some, the fresher-faced among us, moved with vigor you’d expect of four-year-old children. Others though, ambled over, aching under the burden of movement. They were hunched over, lowering their necks to the floor and scratching at them, creating the illusion of a raw collar of flesh like a leash on a dog. I scanned the sea of 60+ kids, looking for the red hair and verdant eyes that saved my life a moment ago. I found her, sitting at the farthest end of the arc, eyes trained on the floor. I sat down next to her, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Thanks” I whispered my gratitude. She curtly nodded her head but did not respond verbally.
“Children,” the woman began, her stiff tone matching her stance. Four more women had gathered around the speaker, all with wiry silver hair and sharp blue eyes.
“I will now outline the procedures and regulations of this fine facility. We have rules, and any attempt to undermine them will be met with swift retribution. Is that understood?” The children around me snapped from their trance to affirm with enthusiastic head nods. Even the girl beside me fervently nodded. I followed suit.
“Rule one, no one is to talk to anyone about what goes on inside this facility. Any attempt to do so will result in immediate punishment. You will all sign a document later today affirming this, a legally binding contract. Failure or refusal to sign this will result in severe punishment.” Everyone nodded.
“Rule two, everything you have here is a privilege and can be taken from you. This is the consequence of bad behavior.” Everyone nodded, as if on cue.
“Rule three, when asked a question about yourself, you will answer. Failure to do so will result in punishment. Because of the few who are misbehaving, unfortunately, all of you will have to feel the consequences. Normally, the schedule would include a designated playtime, naptime, and sugary snacks would be provided. However, those privileges are removed at the moment on account of some who refuse to cooperate. It doesn’t bother us, and you can make it stop at any time. All you need to do is get those of you who remain tight-lipped to answer our questions, and the discomfort you feel will fade away.” This time, the newer kids, including myself, started to doubt and question. The deal that they offered us seemed too good to be true, comfort for a few honest answers to stupid questions was an easy choice to make. Despite this though, a voice deep within me, experience, nagged at me not to place my faith in them. I couldn’t rationalize it, but I knew I was right in my hesitation to believe them. So often does the serpent lie in flowery bouquets of divine promises, and I was sick of being bit.
Other kids, though, wandered headfirst into the mouth of the snake, turning on each other quickly and sending venomous looks and words toward the many mute kids. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything and sat quietly, twiddling my thumbs.
The silver-haired women didn’t intervene, letting the anger boil and the bickering build to a point where fights were close to breaking out, kids borderline screaming for the silent to speak their peace, but to no avail. Finally, a thunderous, cutting shout snuffed out the fighting. It was a noise with no discernable source because it certainly wasn’t human. It was mechanical, like a plane flying fast and low to the ground. All the same, everyone turned to face the silver-haired woman, and she continued to talk. No one, aside from a few of the fresher-faced, questioned the noise.
“Rule 4, we will have a daily lesson lasting 30 to 45 minutes. These lessons have real, practical applications, and you all would do well to observe. At no point will we teach you false information, and any attempts to undermine the lesson should not be taken seriously, and will be met with punishment.” More nods.
“Rule 5, your comfort and healthcare are things we wish to understand. If at any point there is some intricacy you would like us to be made aware of, such as your favorite color or something that is making you uncomfortable, notify any one of us and it will be taken care of. That is all for now. We will start by playing a game that will let us all get to know you. We will ask questions. Make your choice, and choose wisely,” she finished.
“Now, the game is simple. We will ask one of you a question, and you will answer. Then, you will ask one of your peers the same question, until everyone has answered. Then we will begin the process again. If someone does not answer the question, they will need to place a mark on the star chart under your name,” she said. She pointed over to the wall, where a large colorful smiley face rested on the wall. There were five tiers. Stars dotted the lower four tiers, but none were in the fifth tier.
“Let’s start with you there,” she pointed straight at me, of course.
“What is your name?” The question brought me that familiar numbing, and I knew now that I needed to act fast before I was compelled to say my name. I looked over to the girl, who now had turned to me, and was subtly shaking her head.
My mind scrambled to think of a lie I could tell, reaching for my favorite tv show I had watched two nights back.
“A-Alvin,” I said, color returning to my face in the form of a scarlet blush. I pictured the colorful world of singing chipmunks in my mind, trying to distract myself from the woman's gaze.
“Alvin,” the woman repeated, eyes narrowing. I nodded.
“Very well, Alvin. Please ask a friend the same question, and then go place a star on the chart,”
I pointed to the kid in front of me, passing on the question to him. Then I got up, stepped over and around my peers, and went over to the chart. Next to it stood a cabinet with a glass bowl of golden star stickers.
“Write your name on the star, so we know it’s yours”, the woman called over. I turned to face her, greeted by her devilish gaze.
“I can’t,” I said. I didn’t know how to spell.
“I’ll show you then,” she said, rising to her feet. She quickly strode over towards me. She stood uncomfortably close, towering over me. Once again, she grabbed the spot on my arm now with an uncomfortable welt, and gripped it tightly. She placed a pencil in my hand and began puppeteering my arm to write the word. She started with a sloppy-looking c, followed by an a, l, v, I, and n.
“Now, Alvin, what does that spell?” She asked, her tone deathly serious, her molten stare melting my brain. I could hear my bones begin to creak under the strain of her grip as it tightened, but I didn’t register any pain.
“A-A-Alvin,” I said, stuttering.
“If you don’t tell me your name, young man, the shadows will come to life and eat you. Now, what is your name?” She asked again with growing annoyance.
“Shadows?” I asked, my eyes widening with fear. I could feel that the serpent’s tongue had caught my ear.
“Yes. Shadows, the monsters under your bed. They will come up to you, in your sleep, and they will rip and tear at your flesh, eating you piece by piece, chunk by chunk. Then, they will take your face and wear it as your own, and use it to kill your parents. You’ll be a murderer, even in death, and the devil himself will swallow what little of you is left whole,” she said. “Unless, you give us your name. Without your name, the shadows won’t know who you are, and they won’t be able to find you, and that is a promise” she finished. By this point, the whole of the kids had turned to look at me and the silver-haired woman. Their faces were pale, anemic, the same wide-eyed sickly fear that I’m sure was on my face.
Without missing a beat, the woman took the star with my name on it and placed it on the first tier of the chart.
I won’t bore you with the details of what happened for the rest of the day, because it was honestly pretty mundane. They had everyone learn a basic lesson about shapes and colors, offered some mild but inoffensive food that I didn’t eat at the behest of my polka-dot friend, and just let us do what we wanted for the rest of the day. It was a pretty normal experience. But it didn’t feel that way. Even in our free time, all the children were silent as a grave. No one talked or complained or even cried.
I had asked them about the air, why it was so itchy.
“It’s always like that buddy,” they had said. The closer the clock got to 4, the pick-up time, the closer I moved to the door. I was the first one out when they opened the doors from the outside, the two women outside still standing watch. I had never seen them come in.
But none of that mattered because now, my dad was here. I saw him standing there, nervously tapping his foot, arms crossed. An anxious look was on his face, but only for a moment, and when he saw me a smile returned to it. He ran to meet me and scooped me up into a hug.
“Hi buddy! How was your day?” he asked, a highness in his voice tipping off excitement, worry, and relief. I wanted to tell him everything, all of it, but words that were not my own came out instead. “Great! It was great!” I shouted. The words ‘Rule One’ flashed behind my eyes.
It was exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” He said, nearly brought to tears. “I’m so glad you came around bud!”
I turned back to look at the daycare. All of the women, both in and out of the daycare, had their eyes on me.
In the daycare itself, I saw that many kids hadn’t moved at all. Instead, they watched, their eyes reflecting the light of the outside world. They looked hungry, starved of sunshine and fresh air. None of them moved though. Polka-dot girl was one of them. I saw her withered face snatching feverish glances at the world outside the daycare’s neon walls.
My dad followed my eyes into the daycare, then to the women in white.
“Shouldn’t they be leaving? Are that many parents usually late?” he asked.
“Many parents are not as attentive as you are,” she said, a comforting smile accompanying her words.
My father smiled, satisfaction sweeping away any concern he felt for the children in the daycare.
“I could never forget this one, he is the light of my life,". He gave me a gruff kiss, his stubble scratching at my cheek.
“It shows. He is a wonderful child,” the woman’s eyes shifted onto me, her smile taking on a more malicious tint as her eyes narrowed. My father didn’t seem to notice.
The car ride home is uncomfortably stuffed with questions contrasted by one-word answers. It was all I was capable of without breaking the rule. My father would occasionally peek his face out from behind the seat to check in on me with dewy eyes and a reassuring smile, but I could tell he lacked an understanding of my predicament. His senses were clogged with saccharin optimism, and I don’t blame him in any way. What was happening sounded like something out of a movie, some online conspiracy thread, or political vendetta against the government raising your kid.
The sun started to set, fought off by the rising moon which blanketed the sky in streaking orange banners of conflict. The trees darkened, and the refreshing shade they once offered now turned to foreboding darkness. A thin shroud of mist blanketed the ground. I curled into myself, seeking a reprieve from the woman’s words. Shadows cast by everyday normalities metamorphosed into devils right before the frightened eye of my mind. Even the car’s interior felt vulnerable to the supernatural forces I had matched myself against. Certainly, my father couldn’t protect me. He had failed me before, and the built-in security one should feel around a parent had eroded away from the past year of deceitful assurances.
As crazy as it sounds, the only place I knew I could count on was the daycare. The ones who confirmed the insane, childish notions of monsters in the darkness, seemed prophets of deific wisdom, warning unknowing mortals of their serendipitous ignorance.
After what felt like hours, we arrived back at our home. Dad climbed out of the car, grabbing his and my things, and hoisted me out of the carseat, before setting me on the ground. I looked up at the large house we lived in, taking in it’s features for seemingly the first time. It had a triangular shape, with a pointed roof. Ivy coiled the sides like the side of a castle, and the deep gray paint that once shown proudly was now lost it’s luster, marked by faded streaks. Large black windows reflected the gold of dusk like pools of sunlight. The house cast a long misshapen shadow across the lawn, the tip reaching the end of our driveway.
“C’mon bud, let’s get inside,” he said, striding off towards the stairs. I did my best to follow behind him, but I was neither agile nor graceful in the dim light of dusk, and quickly fell behind. It didn’t help that every few steps I stopped to check behind me.
My father began to whistle, absent-mindedly picking up the tune the birds around us carried. He climbed the cement stairs two at a time, stopping at the large mahogany door to find his keys. I hurried across the driveway and made my way up the path, reaching the first of the stairs. Gripping onto the iron railing I hoisted myself up, fighting to keep the dizzying thought of heights at bay. I repeated the process, each time glancing over my shoulder. I was on the third stair when I heard the pop of the lock, the jingle of keys and the squeaky hinge of the door opening. I looked up the stairs to see my father stepping in the house, taking off his shoes, before he turned, and started to close the door.
“Wait!” I gasped, picking up the pace as I practically threw myself up the fourth stair, abandoning the railing and going on all fours like a ragged animal.
“Oh, Cal I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what happened there, Imust have thought you were inside already,” Dad said, swinging the door open. He stepped out onto the porch and down the stairs, grabbing me up and over his shoulder. I was panting, my breath lost to the stairs. I looked on over the dewy fields of grass constituting the lawns of our neighbors, hoping to find the source of the tune that was still playing. I almost screamed when I found it. Singing a monotone, harsh tune stood a woman in white on the sidewalk parallel to ours across the street. It was the same whistle my father had, like a bird. No, like someone trying to sound like a bird. High pitched and erratic, but with the cadence of a human. She had her eyes on me, on our house, her lips twisted into a toothy grin. She made no sound, but I could hear her. I began to aggressively scratch my throat. We made it into the house, where my father set me down, and began to close the door.
“Look!” I said, peeking my head out through the windows bordering the door.
“What bud?” Dad asked, opening the door and following my gaze.
The fog had intensified, a misty maelstrom swirling around the street, swallowing the woman.
“I’ve never seen fog move like that either bud,” he said, closing and locking the door. Even in the fog, I could still see her silhouette, her whistle running through my ears like a sharp wind.
I ran through the house, frantically searching for my Pointer. I had left it in the living room underneath the beige upholstered couch. It was a blue metal rod with a cartoonish gloved hand that pointed upwards. Because I was so short, it was the only way I could reach the light switches. Starting in the living room, and working my way through the house, I turned on all the lights in the house on the base floor. I didn’t have the nerve to head upstairs alone. The haunting tune of the woman still rang in my ears, only it had gotten louder and more intense. I realized that it wasn’t my imagination, my father was still singing that tune. He stood stiff in the kitchen, chopping something foul-smelling, probably some kind of disgusting vegetable. His eyes looked unfocused like TV static.
“Please stop,” I said from the other room.
“Stop what?” he asked. I attempted to whistle, but instead blew air and saliva with a funny face.
“Whistling?” he asked, amused. I nodded my head.
“Why?” he asked again.
“It hurts my ears,” I said.
“It does? Are you okay bud? You haven’t looked right since yesterday. Are you sick?” He set the knife down on the counter, and moved towards me quickly, bending down and taking my face in his hands. A sharp clarity returned to his eyes, combing my features for any indication of illness or distress. He moved down, placing his ear to my chest, listening for any indication of labored breathing.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just don’t like the whistlering”.
“Whistling,” he corrected, lifting his head to once again look at me, searching for answers.
“You would tell me if something was wrong, right?” he asked, his gruff voice softening.
“Yeah,” I said, looking away. All I could do was lie. He closed his hand into a fist before extending his pinkie.
“Pinkie promise?” he asked. I nodded, holding out my pinkie.
“Alright,” he said, intertwining my pinkie with his.
“Let’s get you settled in okay? We are having macaroni and brussels sprouts.”
Ugh, brussels sprouts. I hated them, the smell and the taste. He hadn’t made them since I had thrown up all over the table after eating a few.
I followed him over to the high chair in the kitchen. It looked like something you would see in a rundown war base in Vietnam, splattered in food and heavily mangled. I was a picky eater, to say the least, and it was only made worse by ignorant, stubborn nannies playing the old “here comes the airplane” gambit. My dad hadn’t had time to replace it yet. He took me under the arms and lifted me into that beat-up old thing. I struggled to get comfortable, the feathered cushion worn down from many battles that had taken place in the chair. It didn’t help that it was far too small for me, I had outgrown it a few months ago and could sit at the regular chairs. He missed a lot of things while at work, and I think knowing that would only make him feel worse, so I went along with it.
My dad went to the rough granite counter and picked through the cabinets, gathering two plates, a plastic bowl, silver forks and spoons, and napkins. He set them down, unfolding and scrunching a napkin into a makeshift bib and tucking it into my shirt. He set down the porcelain plate and pink plastic bowl, before serving the macaroni onto the plate, and scooped the rancid sprouts into the bowl.
I grimaced at the sight of them, my mouth dry at the putrid smell, so strong I could taste it.
My father sat at the opposite end of the table.
“Now I know you aren’t the biggest fan, but we all have to try things we don’t like. And who knows, maybe you’ll come to love brussel sprouts,” he said. It was such a dad thing to say.
The meal carried on, mostly in silence, I avoided the sprouts like an awkward topic of conversation. My father took note of this of course.
“Bud, you haven’t touched your brussel sprouts,” he said, blowing air through his nose. Heavy breathing was always a sign that his frustration was rising. He must have had a long day at work.
I groaned, unable to stop myself from voicing my repugnance. I could tell he wasn’t having it, so with a heavy hand, I speared a sprout on my fork and tentatively took a bite. It took every bit of me not to gag immediately and spit out the rotten thing. It took even more to chew it, slippery and charred, before forcing it down my throat. I looked back at my father, whose face wore a look of charmed satisfaction, like a kid who burnt the feelers of an ant. He was looking at me, but it was like it wasn’t him who was seeing me. He started tapping his silverware on the white tablecloth, muffling the impact of metal on wood, but not enough to keep the melody he crudely played from reaching my ears. It was the whistle of the woman in white.
The lingering taste from the sprout intensified, going for my throat like a hand. It was pungent, itchy, so itchy. I began to claw at my neck once again, the familiar action bringing me back to that daycare with the air that seared my flesh with a molten prickling, like firecrackers stuffed beneath my skin now going off. I began to cough, choking on the taste and smell. I slammed my heels into the chair, my free arm banging furiously against the table, driving it down with such force that the porcelain shattered beneath my hand, leaving cuts in my flesh. My head flew back on its own, hacking and croaking and wheezing with so much force that the chair followed its lead and tipped with me. I hit the ground, hard, blurriness lidding my eyes. The back of my head throbbed with sharp pain. I reached back and felt my hand grazing flesh, the hot stickiness of blood now coating my fingers. My hair was coated in it too, I must have hit the ground much harder than I thought.
“Calvin??!? Calvin!!!” My father rushed to me, jaw agape at the gruesome scene. He fumbled with his pocket as he ran to the kitchen, snatching a roll of paper towels with one hand as he dialed 911 in the other.
“Hello?! My son fell… he hit his head, and his throat? He’s bleeding, and I think he might be having a seizure!” he continued on. “Calvin stop it!” He yelled, trying to wrestle my hand off of my throat. It moved with strength and will that wasn’t my own. He grabbed my forearm, wrenching at it. As soon as his skin touched mine, an explosive pain blazed through my entire body. I felt in that instance what I imagine a nail feels when struck by a hammer, like lightning ruptured through me. An ear-splitting scream erupted out of me, my arm now swelling with purple welts the size of grapefruits. They expanded and contracted, pulsing hypnotically. I heard my bones not just break, but splinter under a force no human could muster.
I can’t recall much of it after that. All I remember was the buzzing neon lights of the ambulance, the wispy voices of horrified nurses, and my father shakily telling the police that he had no idea what had happened.
2024.06.08 05:02 xtremexavier15 TMA 18
Boys: Justin, Ripper, Topher
Girls: Anne Maria, Jasmine, MK
Episode 18: The Aftermath III: Cutting to the Chase
In place of the standard introductory recap, the episode was opened by the now-familiar theme of the TDA Aftermath show. The logo formed and gleamed in the artificial light, and the 'D' popped forward with its usual camera-shutter sound effect.
Clip 1
"We're ready! Uno, dos, tres!!!" Izzy chanted and eagerly pushed the plunger down.
Almost immediately, a chaotic series of explosions were set off all around the base. They were accompanied by hectic and disjointed notes in the background music, and the host and other four Gaffers were shown cringing with their fingers in their ears. Eventually the explosions stopped, the dust settled, and everyone except Izzy leaned past the paint-splattered wall with curious expressions.
The camera then showed Izzy's paint pattern from another angle – it took the shape of the host's own grinning face.
The 'D' retreated briefly, then popped back out again before the next clip was shown.
Clip 2
"Don't worry. You'll be the hottest cave girl here!" Chase told his girlfriend.
"I don't want to wear animal skins, but your compliment is already lifting my spirits up," Millie smiled back and pecked his cheek with a kiss.
The 'D' repeated its standard motion, retreating briefly before popping back out as a transition to the next clip.
Clip 3
“Relationship with Chase aside, I don’t really think you’re that cute,” Millie said to Justin. “Why else did I not want to kiss you in that challenge?”
For a fourth and final time, the logo's 'D' performed its transitional sequence.
Clip 4
"This challenge was built for me!" Chase boasted in the make-up trailer. “No puzzles or tricks. Just me dribbling a ball and slam dunking! Swish!"
The 'D' was shown again, now as a signal of the recap's end.
(Theme Song)
The Aftermath intro sequence played again, fading this time into the show's stage as the crowd cheered wildly. "Hey everyone!" Damien greeted from the center couch, Priya on his left and the filled-up Peanut Gallery to Priya's left. "We're back for another Total Drama Action Aftermath Show! I'm Damien," the nervous wreck waved at the camera as it came in for a close-up.
"And I'm Priya," the reality TV fan added with a smile as the shot panned over to her. "A lot has happened since last time.”
“We've lost some serious competitors,” Damien said. “There's Izzy," the shot cut to the screen hanging above the hosts where the wild child's smiling portrait was displayed while the crowd applauded.
"What happened to her was mind-blowing!" Priya interjected.
"Then we got Millie," Damien added to more applause as the author's face moved Izzy’s out of the way. "She was doing so well too."
"And we can't forget Chase!" Priya said, the audience cheering once more as the hanging screen's picture changed to that of the daredevil. "All will be with us here today!"
"Not to mention our friends from last season," Damien added as the camera moved back to the hosts, "and the ones who already lost this time." The camera panned to the Peanut Gallery, where Rodney, Katie, Sadie, Brick, Trent, and Sky sat in front; Sam, Gwen, Eva, Geoff, Scott, and Izzy sat in back; and all smiled and waved for the camera and cheering audience.
“Even though we lost Izzy again, she's already been a guest, so she won't take the hot seat today!” Priya reminded everybody.
“So for the first time, we'll only be interviewing two people this episode,” Damien added.
"You know," Priya leaned towards the camera and audience, "Damien and I have been having a bit of a squabble over what you guys want to see increase ratings."
Damien frowned. "I know that this is a reality show and everyone wants to know what went down, but the people that competed on TDA have already been tortured by Chris!” he claimed. “Add in losing out on a million bucks and they should be able to come here and feel safe to speak their minds."
“No one goes on a reality show to feel safe, Damien,” Priya argued. “This isn't a cushy talk show. With the lighting on these shows, who needs to win a million bucks when you look like a million bucks?”
“I'm not sure everyone would agree with you there, Priya,” Damien said back.
“Our lighting isn't all that good, but I'm not going to make a big stink about it,” Priya muttered. “The point is, this isn't a therapy session where people come to talk about their problems. And even so, I'm not gonna make them feel any better about them.”
Priya's comment earned a scoff from her boyfriend. “I'm just doing what our producers tell me to do. And I take my job seriously.”
“We're supposed to get the goods from people,” Damien added. “How are they supposed to open up to us when they might get hit over the head with a hammer?! Or an anvil?!”
They looked over at the still intact anvil swinging slightly. “The anvil is pretty cool!” Priya claimed happily before getting serious. “All this is the point of the segment. To get the truth! And we've got something even better for today!”
“You know, you've become a total Chris clone!” Damien stated in disapproval. “Sadistic and cocky!”
“I'm gonna ignore that for now,” Priya talked over him cheerfully as the audience cheered. “Our show is thrilling! And we have not one, but two guests tonight. And because they've had their moments of awesome during the show, they're getting something extra.”
“Millie and Chase have been voted out by some behind-the-scenes stunts!” Damien protested. “No way are they getting tortured!”
"Before you get to the interviews, I have to interrupt!" Scott exclaimed as he stood up and got looks from those seated around him. He still had a sling on his right arm. "There's no way that I am not the only one who has seen this!"
"Seen what exactly?" Priya asked.
"Izzy's elimination!" Scott exclaimed. "Didn't anybody notice something a little cuckoo?"
Priya and Damien shared an odd look before turning it on Scott. "Just play the clip so I can point out the obvious to you."
"If you say so," Priya said in confusion. The camera moved up to the hanging television, which quickly switched from static to the over-the-shoulder view of the Gaffers’ votes.
"No, not that clip!” Scott objected. “The clip where the final Gilded Chris was handed out!"
"You should've been more specific," Priya reminded the dirt farmer. "Roll the clip."
The camera panned back up to the other screen just as it cut from static to the footage in question.
Chris took another look at his envelope. “And the final Gilded Chris goes to… MK."
The music took a sudden, loud twist as everyone gasped while MK caught her prize with an expected smirk.
The clip paused at that instant, and the shot cut to Scott looking up at it with an expected look on his face. "See?" he said. He received only blank looks from the hosts, and groaned. "Fine, I'll point out the obvious," he said while walking over to the central couch and bent down in front of the display on the table.
The camera focused back on the paused clip, showing three of the Gaffers in mid-gasp – all except MK, whose smirk was quickly circled.
"There it is!" Scott exclaimed as the scene cut back to the studio. "MK was expecting it!"
"I remember MK voting for me," Izzy spoke up. "Why else would she not be satisfied?"
"Because obviously, MK should've been the one eliminated that episode," Scott explained. "She should have been just as surprised as the rest of you, Izzy!"
A short dramatic score accompanied the accusation, and the audience gasped.
"Whoa," Damien said in surprise. "Scott may have figured out something juicy! So what do you think happened?" he said to the dirt boy.
“Well, first of all-” Scott opened his mouth.
"Hold up!” Izzy interrupted. “I'm not going to let you say that Chase voted for me on purpose. I can't see him working with MK in order to get rid of me."
"But what else could it be?" Priya asked. "Maybe MK manipulating him?"
"I wouldn't be shocked by that," Izzy replied, "but if she told Chase a lie just to get rid of me, I think Chase would've said something about it once I was voted off."
"Hmm. Good point," Priya thought about it.
"Plus, I'm pretty sure Chase would have said something in a confessional, and as far as I've been told, he’s said nothing about the sort," Damien pointed out.
"As I was going to say," Scott said with a hint of annoyance, "I don't think Chase intentionally voted for you and you intentionally voted for Ripper. I’d say that MK found a way to rig the voting devices so that you’d get the most votes no matter what."
Everyone gasped at that claim. "I say a lot of wild things, but I have to agree with Scott here," Izzy said. "The votes were definitely rigged!"
"Thank you," Scott replied.
"Sorry, but that seems out of the ordinary to me," Priya said. "Wouldn't the producers have done something if MK fudged with the votes?"
"Yeah," Damien chimed in. "They punished Chef for making a deal with a contestant."
"Then maybe the producers didn't know about it and it wasn't caught on camera!” Scott pointed. “Back in the first season, I sure as heck didn't have the game rigged for me! The same can be applied for MK."
"Uh, dude, they film us half the time,” Geoff spoke up. “They're obviously looking over everybody's shoulder when it comes to voting."
"But it's the only thing that makes sense here!" Scott exclaimed. "Why is Izzy the only one here that believes me?"
"Whoa there," Damien said suddenly. "You can cool down now."
"Yeah," Priya said, "you're starting to look insane. We’ll look into the episodes closely if it suits you well."
"This is something that I’m not making up just to trick you, you know," Scott finished and walked back to the peanut gallery.
"Well, that was interesting," Priya said awkwardly.
"But on the upside, it means we don't have to fill up this episode’s run time with useless filler," Damien added.
"And now we can get to the first interview!" Priya said with a confident smile. "But before we see what's in store for Chase, let's see what he's been through already!"
The shot cut back up to the hanging screen where Chase's portrait was displayed once again. "Chase started this season the same way he starts everyday," Damien said.
"Eager and ready for action!" Priya finished as the screen transitioned to a clip of Chase swinging on a vine in the war challenge.
"Sadly, it couldn't score him the win," Damien said over Chase performing well in the surfing challenge.
"His relationship with Millie gave his fans even more reason to root for him," Priya added as the couple eating sandwiches was replayed, "even though they ended up on different teams."
"Unfortunately, Chase's time in the spotlight was cut short after he received the majority of the votes," Damien's comment played over the scene of Chase's elimination.
"So sad!" Priya said as the screen cut to static and the camera pulled back, then panned back down to the hosts. "But at least he didn't get robbed out of the game, right?!" she asked the crowd, who responded with applause. "Our first guest is a sports master, can outrun seven contestants, and is no stranger to over-salting other people's eggs. Everyone give a warm welcome to Chase!"
The crowd went wild as the Aftermath theme played, but nobody appeared at the backstage camera.
"Ahem," Priya loudly cleared her throat. "Chase, everyone!" The Aftermath theme played again but nobody came out, leaving the hosts and Peanut Gallery to exchange confused looks with one another.
The scene cut backstage as a young white man with blonde hair knocked on an open door. "You're on," he said as he looked at the clipboard in his hands.
The camera pulled back to show Chase and Millie sitting on the couch together.
"I can do this," Chase smiled confidently. "I've been on TV before. I can definitely handle an interview." He stood up, and the author smiled up at him.
"You'll do great," Millie said reassuringly.
"I know I will!" Chase nodded, and the Aftermath theme played once again as he made a beeline for the exit.
Chase walked out on stage with a smile and a wave towards the cheering audience. After a moment, he turned and walked towards the guest couch.
"Damien! Priya! It's cool to see you two again!" he told the hosts, shaking Priya's hand and fist bumping Damien.
"It's so great to have you here!" Priya replied.
"Yeah," Damien added. "It's not like we wanted to see you eliminated," he explained as they all sat back down, "but we are glad that you're not being a bad sport over your elimination.”
“How are you feeling now, after everything that's happened in the game?" Priya wondered.
"It's hard to know where to begin," Chase answered with a light laugh.
Damien laughed as well. "Just speak your mind."
"Well, I was doing pretty good for myself," Chase said. "I got along well with the contestants and hardly made any enemies at all. Up until my elimination, I don't even remember being in the bottom two. Izzy, sorry again about your elimination!"
“Water under the bridge,” Izzy said with a smile. “It wasn't your fault!”
"When you put it like that, you almost had it easy on the film lot," Damien chuckled.
"And it's no surprise why you were eliminated. You were too skilled for them!" Priya quipped, and the audience laughed.
“I'm not a god or anything,” Chase claimed, “but I wouldn't be surprised if someone hired me to be a stuntman for a movie.”
"I wonder if you'll be able to keep that cool attitude when you're in the hot seat while playing 'Truth or Electrocution'!" Priya told the boy before winking knowingly at the camera.
The same theme as 'Truth or Hammer' and 'Truth or Anvil' played over a receding shot of the same golden statue of the Lady of Justice. The audience applauded wildly, and the sequence came to an end with the statue getting destroyed by a bolt of lightning.
Chase looked towards the backstage curtain, and the camera panned over to show a rather large wooden electric chair with a pumpkin-headed test dummy seated in it. The same male intern from earlier pressed a button on a remote, which lowered the helmet onto the pumpkin. After a surge of electricity and a dramatic twist in the background music, the pumpkin exploded to the shock of the audience.
"Can I sit this one out?" Chase asked cautiously, turning his eyes back to the hostess. “I'm all for danger, but I'm above electrocuting myself!”
"Yeah, this is totally going overboard, Priya," Damien added. "You cannot think that electrocuting people on live TV is a good idea!"
Priya shrugged apathetically. "Sorry, but the producers were bent on doing this. Don't worry," he told the athletic boy. "They've assured me the chair is totally safe. It's on low voltage!"
"Okay then..." Chase muttered as he walked over to the chair.
"Are you seriously going to go through with this?" Damien asked in disbelief. "You don't have to do everything the producers say!"
"I do not have anything to hide," Chase told him as the blond intern from earlier strapped him into the chair.
Priya giggled. "That's the spirit!" A few chuckles came from the audience, and she continued. "So Chase, tell us: who are you mad at the most right now? Is it Anne Maria, Justin, and Topher for being the ones to actually vote for you? Or maybe even MK, for not warning you about you being targeted?" The crowd gasped at the last remark.
Chase was shown to be flabbergasted. "So MK knew that I was going to get eliminated? That's why she convinced me to vote for Topher. So the votes would sway away from Justin! That girl is so ratty!" he ranted.
"Okay then," Priya laughed a bit. "What about the others? You've got to be mad at the three for even targeting you."
"Them I'm not upset at!" Chase answered. “They just had to vote for someone, and Ripper had immunity while I didn't!"
"How correct you are," Priya said. "In fact, we have a clip that partly explains your elimination!" She looked up at the hanging screen as it started to play footage from the superhero episode.
"I'm happy that Anne Maria won the first challenge and all," Topher said, "but I want either Chase or Ripper to win the second part. That way, we can vote out the non-immune player.”
The scene paused there. "So if you won the superhero challenge alongside Anne Maria, you wouldn't be here right now," Damien said.
"Yeah, but I guess it is kinda my punishment for how I got Izzy eliminated," Chase said as the camera cut back to him.
"Well," Priya stated forcefully, "you did vote her out, but I'm not holding that against you. Enough about that. I think it's time we finally get to know you well."
Chase raised an eyebrow, and Priya continued. "Remember, if you don't answer this question truthfully, you get electrocuted."
"I got it," Chase nodded.
Priya smirked. "Glad to hear it! Now Chase, tell the truth. Who inspired you to be who you are today? Pranking and looking for danger, to be precise."
Chase was stunned by the question, but he sucked it up and answered "Well, I have an uncle named Nick. He's 30, and he used to be a daredevil before switching to selling skateboards as a job."
"And what does that have to do with you?" Priya wondered.
"I'm getting to that," Chase told her. "After he got that job, he told me stories about his own endeavors, and all of them influenced me to take up his old mantle as the family's stuntman. If he was here, he'd go into depth about it all."
"You know,” Damien spoke up, “I thought this might happen so I did some stuff ahead of time. Just give me some time to get prepared. “I'll be back in a couple minutes."
As Damien got up and walked off stage, the Aftermath theme started playing and Priya shot an uncertain look at the camera. "I guess this is where we’ll be taking a short break! Don't turn off your TV just yet!"
(Commercial Break)
The logo's 'D' transitioned the scene to Priya announcing "It's time for 'That's Gonna Leave a Mark'!" as the segment's intro sequence played and the audience cheered.
Both the montage of pain and it's campy theme music started soon after, the footage beginning with Topher combing his hair until his brush got stuck in his couf. That was followed by a clip of Izzy getting hit in the forehead by a monocle.
Next up was Chris throwing the ball to Justin, only to end up hitting his groin and making him fall over. Several more nutshots were shown next: Ripper trying to move across the lasers, only for a beam to hit in-between his legs; Chase rolling along the roof after the cast ziplined away from the water tower and getting stopped by a poorly-placed metal chimney; the Grips’ cheering after winning the heist challenge, only for Topher to get hit in the nuts by a boom mic; and Ripper getting hit in the jewels during the sports challenge via the badminton birdie.
The next clip featured the blond intern, walking through a grassy area until a pillar from the caveman duels fell on him. During the caveman challenge, the Gaffer team symbol fell on Jasmine, and the Grip symbol whacked Millie during her confessional. After Ripper dropped his rock onto MK's foot, MK was then crushed by a falling large rock.
As the teams ran to their get-away cars in the bank heist, Jasmine got her leg stuck in an oddly placed bear trap. Ripper was making his confessional only to be knocked unconscious by an intern.
Chef drove the golf cart with the rack of ribs towards the fake tar pit for the reward, only to rear-end another golf cart driven by Sasquatchanakwa. The yeti got out and started bashing Chef's cart with a golf club, then made a gesture with his fingers that had to be blurred out.
The music came to an end and the audience laughed and cheered. The camera panned back down to the hosts as Damien took his seat back on the couch.
"What was that about?" Priya asked in a hushed tone.
"I wanted to prove that we can care about the viewers and our friends," Damien whispered before looking at the camera. "And now, I'd like to introduce a surprise guest," a drumroll began in the background as Damien looked at the curtain past the Peanut Gallery, "Chase's uncle!"
The drumroll led into the Aftermath theme as a middle-aged man walked out on stage. His hair was an afro and he wore a yellow jacket with blue jeans.
"Uncle Nick!" Chase said excitedly, still strapped into the electric chair.
"Hey Chase!" Nick smiled as he strolled right past the host couch and stopped in front of Chase. "Question, why are you in an electric chair?"
Chase looked at his bonds, then back at his uncle. "Because they didn't let me out during the commercials."
"We'll have someone get you out of there," Priya said as the blond intern approached the chair. The moment the straps were undone and the helmet lifted, Chase and his uncle shared a hug.
"It's so nice to see you again," Chase said.
"I missed you as well," Nick replied.
"Why don't you two have a seat? We don't have time for a lot of questions," Damien added as the pair sat on the couches, "so maybe you can explain how you inspired Chase to be who he is, right Nick?"
"Well, I used to do stunts that were extraordinary, and even though I'd get injured, I had fun risking my life and surviving to leave a legacy on the world,” Nick recapped, “but as I entered college, I knew that I had to retire and move on with my life, but that didn't mean that I couldn't tell stories to my nephew.”
"He told me every single stunt that he pulled and he even gave me one of his skateboards so I could practice down at the skatepark," Chase added. "My uncle may have left me to take up the family's mantle of daredevil, but I owe everything to him for making me discover my purpose in life."
"I just met you, but you're a pretty great uncle!" Damien said to Nick.
"Thank you. I want my nephew to be happy just like his parents," Nick confirmed.
An 'aww' was uttered forth from the audience. "Good on you for bringing Nick out here, Damien!" Priya said.
"No problem," Damien smiled. "But I think it's about time to introduce our last guest, don't you?"
"Definitely," Priya answered and looked at the camera. "Our next guest is easily the most studious person on the show," the hostess said as the camera panned back up to the hanging screen, which now showed an image of Millie.
"Yeah, and while she may not look it," Damien said over Millie writing in her book while sitting on her bunk, "she’s a strong player and contributor to her team," Millie was shown preventing Trent from falling over and trying to crack open the safe. "Heck, she can even step up as a leader at times!" A few short clips of Millie taking charge during the war challenge played.
"Too bad for her that she wasn't able to get further, though," Priya added while Millie fell into the tar pit. "Despite being a major part of her team and even winning a reward trip with her grandfather," Millie was shown holding a megaphone and producing moans to scare the Gaffers and getting declared the winner of the hospital drama, "she got voted out right before the merge for lacking any kind of connections to her team." Millie's elimination was replayed in part, and the hanging screen cut back to static.
Damien smiled for the camera. "Our next guest spends most of her days focusing on a journal, got shoved off a diving board, and is a pretty good getaway driver, it's Millie!"
The crowd went wild as the Aftermath theme began to play, and Millie trotted out on stage, giving the electric chair a quick look before turning her attention to the crowd. She waved at the audience then walked over to the hosts with a smile on her face.
"Hey guys!" Millie greeted, waving at the hosts before sitting down on the guest couch and waving at Chase and his uncle on the couch behind her. "Thanks for having me here!"
"Great to have you," Damien said.
"Totally," Priya added. "I was loving what you had to offer this season. Too bad you got cut so short!"
“Yeah, but I still have my dignity and pride,” Millie said to them.
“And that’s more important to you than winning money that could make your finances better?” Priya wondered with disappointment.
“I do not have any financial problems, Priya,” Millie told her. “And I’m starting to think that something happened between you two. Do you want to talk about that?"
"Hey, we're the hosts of this show," Priya refused. "We ask the questions and you give the answers."
"I’m good at answering questions," Millie said confidently. “Hit me with your best shot.”
"Then you won't mind taking a seat over there," Priya pointed over to the electric chair which had reappeared on-stage again.
"Umm...sure?" Millie answered hesitantly.
"All you have to do is be honest!" Geoff called out before the shot cut back to the blond intern strapping Millie into the chair.
“I’m not going to lie at all,” Millie promised. “Unless I want a high voltage surprise flowing through my bones.”
"Okay Millie, first question," Priya began. "Who do you blame for your elimination?"
"I'd say Justin," Millie said quickly. “It's pretty clear that he somehow convinced Anne Maria to vote for me. And it was easy for Topher to vote for me as well.”
Priya frowned when no shock came. "How do you feel about Anne Maria even voting for you despite you two becoming friends?"
"I don't hold anything against her," Millie explained. “I am a little bit upset that she fell for Justin's looks, but I probably would if I was in her position.”
“Even though you and Anne Maria have boyfriends?" Priya asked teasingly.
"We resisted Justin during all of our time competing in the season," Millie said. “What makes you think that I'd fall in love with Justin beyond shallowness?”
"I was just asking a question," Priya muttered.
“And I want to move on to the next one,” Millie urged.
“Okay. Do you think that Jasmine switching over to the Gaffers resulted in your downfall?” Damien asked.
Millie sighed. "Kind of. The two of us are good friends, and she supported me throughout the season. Had she not swapped teams, then maybe I'd have a better chance of staying in the game."
"So you expected her to protect you from the votes?" Priya wondered.
"I'm not the strongest player in the game, but that doesn't mean that I'll depend on people to shield me," Millie said with a bit of anger.
Having enough, Damien grabbed Priya by the arm. “We've talked about this after the end of the last episode,” Damien scolded. “You said that you were going to tone down your antics, and so far, I'm not seeing that at all. In fact, I don't even know who you are now.”
Priya took her hand away. “Um, I'm the best and only girlfriend that you have right now.”
“Not anymore!” Damien huffed. “It's over!”
“We don't have time for a short break!” Priya replied.
“No, I was talking about us! Our relationship is finished!” Damien declared, causing the audience to gasp while Priya was blank faced.
Millie was also shown to be stunned as well. “I'd hate to get in-between this problem, but can you two continue the show?”
“I will,” Damien took a deep breath, “but don't expect me to be on good terms with Priya for now.”
“Same with me as well,” Priya responded in a standoffish tone. "And with that out of the way, it's time to talk about something a bit more interesting," she said with a playful smile.
Millie raised a confused eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously.
"Well," Priya said knowingly, "we've gotten a lot of viewer requests to talk about what you said on that reward trip you took a few weeks ago."
"That was private!" Millie said in sudden alarm. "You can't show it on live TV!"
"Sorry, Millie, but it's already on the Total Drama website," Damien told her apologetically.
"And as far as the producers are concerned, it's fair game for it to be shown!" Priya said.
"But I didn't think anybody was going to see it," Millie continued in sadness as she slumped further back into the electric chair.
"Well it's too late for that," Priya told her. "Almost everyone at home has seen it, so it's time to show it to the few left who haven't." The camera quick-panned over to the guest couches where Chase was giving Nick a questioning look and receiving a shrug in return.
The camera moved up to the hanging screen as it cut from static to the footage of Millie and her grandfather inside the limousine of losers.
"I have a lot to talk to you about ever since I competed in the first season," Millie said to her grandfather.
Her grandfather smiled proudly. "Spill the details. I can tell you had a ball, but don't blame me if I start to doze off more than I do while writing best selling books."
"I'm not that boring!" Millie laughed cutely. "So it all started when I was dropped off on the dock. I mostly focused on writing my book, but there was a certain boy that caught my eye."
“And who could that young man be?” Millie's grandfather wondered.
“That person is Chase,” Millie answered. “I'll start off with his flaws first.”
“Flaws?” Millie's grandfather raised an eyebrow.
“Well, at first, Chase was inconsiderate, cocky, and had a tendency to show off a lot,” Millie said. “And this is not to bash him at all.”
“Right now, he sounds like a bum to me,” her grandfather said with doubt.
“But there's more to him than that,” Millie continued. “He's funny, friendly, and a well-meaning person, and as we got to know each other, he helped me be less uptight and rule-abiding.”
“And did Chase improve himself for you at all?” Millie's grandfather asked.
“Yes he did, granddad,” Millie responded. “He became more caring and thoughtful, and after he wrote me haikus, we finally started to date. I know he doesn't meet the family's expectations, and he can still be reckless at times, but I really love him, and he does as well.”
Her grandfather was touched to hear the words coming from her granddaughter's mouth. “Millie, I had no idea you two had a healthy relationship going on, and with how nice this boy is, you have my blessing to date him,” he said.
“Really? You and my parents are not going to forbid me from dating Chase?” Millie asked with shock.
“We would if he wasn't treating a lovely lady like you right,” Millie's grandfather said. “Enjoy your relationship with him. I’ll put in a good word for Chase when I tell your parents.”
Millie smiled and gave her grandfather a hug. “I love you, granddad.”
“I love you too, Millie,” Millie's grandfather returned the hug. “Now let's enjoy ourselves on our spa night. That facial is calling my name.”
The footage cut to static, and the camera pulled back and panned down to Chase and his uncle.
“So that's what you wanted to show to us?” Chase asked the hosts. “Personal information?”
“Don't blame us for wanting to spice up the show,” Priya giggled.
“Okay, can someone get me out of this thing?!” Millie demanded, and the blond intern came over to unstrap her while the helmet was lifted off. After he left, Millie got to her feet. “What is your deal, Priya? You're normally kind-hearted, and now you're being super nasty!”
"Tell me something I don't know!" Damien sighed.
"I was able to tolerate this until you decided to show my conversation with my granddad to the world just to embarrass me!" Millie reprimanded.
"This is a reality show. People are bound to get embarrassed," Priya countered. "Can you back me up on this, Chase?"
Chase was also shown to be upset as well. "Sorry, but you are acting like a full-blown jerk now, Priya," he added. “Even if I wanted to know what Millie's family thinks of me, I would not be nosy about it.”
“And I thought you learned that from last season after you tried to figure out the haiku,” Millie scolded.
“This is just all for fun,” Priya pouted. “Don't take it personally.”
"You know what I think would be more enjoyable?" Damien interjected as he walked over to the two guests and whispered something in their ears.
"Since you're a big fan of Truth or Electrocution, we think you should take a turn!" Millie grinned before she, Chase and Damien ran over to grab Priya.
“Hey!” Priya protested while the Peanut Gallery was entertained by the event going on.
Priya was thrown onto the chair, and after the helmet got dropped on her head, the intern strapped her tight while the audience were guffawing about.
"Now it's our turn to ask the questions," Damien said deviously.
"No problem," Priya said with fake confidence. "I'm really honest."
"Priya, is all the secret revealing, narcissism, and apathy really the new you? Or is this just what you think the producers want from you?" Millie asked.
Priya pursed her lips. "This is me completely." She was promptly electrocuted, earning a gasp from the audience. "Okay, I’m just acting like this so that the show doesn’t get canceled and we don’t lose our jobs."
"I've got one! How do you really feel about Damien and all of us?" Chase asked next.
"Alright! I still care about Damien a lot. I’m really sorry about how I acted. I lost control of myself, and I wasn’t surprised that Damien dumped me. I let the show become my fullest priority, and it made me do some underhanded stuff. Can you all forgive me?" Priya looked sadly at the people in front of her.
"Don't worry, Priya," Damien reassured her. "We understand now, and we all forgive you. In fact, I take back us being broken up. I don’t know what I’d do without the girl I hooked up with back on the island."
The audience awwed as Priya smiled gratefully. "Thanks!"
"So are you going to apologize for showing my private conversation to everyone?" Millie asked.
"Millie, I’m also sorry for that as well," Priya apologized. "I know the producers already put it up online, but I had no right to show it to everybody just for ratings. Your relationship with Chase is your own business, and I really promise to not invade you like that again."
“I can see that you’re being sincere,” Chase said. “Thanks for not lying.”
"So you promise to be yourself from now on and not pull any strings?" Damien asked Priya.
"Double promise," Priya nodded. "I am not going to stoop to Chris’ levels anytime soon."
“Yeah, the last thing we’d need right now is a female Chris,” Millie added as Chase agreed with her.
The Aftermath theme began as the scene cut back to Damien and Priya, the latter already out of her bonds. "Well, I guess that's it for tonight," Damien told the audience as he helped his slightly-singed girlfriend to her feet.
"Join Chris and the cast next time," Priya said as the crowd began to clap and cheer again, "for another totally suspense-filled episode of Total! Drama! Action!" The shot pulled back from the stage, and the two hosts shared a kiss.
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
Priya and Damien were shown to be happily kissing each other on the host couch. After a few moments, the camera panned to the guest couch, where Millie and Chase were watching awkwardly.
"Do they even know that we're still here?" Chase asked.
"I don't think it matters to them," Millie said.
"How about we go to the guest room for some alone time?" Chase said with a knowing wink.
“You don't need to ask me twice,” Millie smiled teasingly before they ran off together.
Eva - 15th
Geoff - 15th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 13th
Sky - 12th
Brick - 11th
Scott - 10th
Izzy - 9th
Millie - 8th
MERGE
Chase - 7th
Boys: Justin, Ripper, Topher
Girls: Anne Maria, Jasmine, MK
submitted by xtremexavier15 to u/xtremexavier15 [link] [comments]
Girls: Anne Maria, Jasmine, MK
Episode 18: The Aftermath III: Cutting to the Chase
In place of the standard introductory recap, the episode was opened by the now-familiar theme of the TDA Aftermath show. The logo formed and gleamed in the artificial light, and the 'D' popped forward with its usual camera-shutter sound effect.
Clip 1
"We're ready! Uno, dos, tres!!!" Izzy chanted and eagerly pushed the plunger down.
Almost immediately, a chaotic series of explosions were set off all around the base. They were accompanied by hectic and disjointed notes in the background music, and the host and other four Gaffers were shown cringing with their fingers in their ears. Eventually the explosions stopped, the dust settled, and everyone except Izzy leaned past the paint-splattered wall with curious expressions.
The camera then showed Izzy's paint pattern from another angle – it took the shape of the host's own grinning face.
The 'D' retreated briefly, then popped back out again before the next clip was shown.
Clip 2
"Don't worry. You'll be the hottest cave girl here!" Chase told his girlfriend.
"I don't want to wear animal skins, but your compliment is already lifting my spirits up," Millie smiled back and pecked his cheek with a kiss.
The 'D' repeated its standard motion, retreating briefly before popping back out as a transition to the next clip.
Clip 3
“Relationship with Chase aside, I don’t really think you’re that cute,” Millie said to Justin. “Why else did I not want to kiss you in that challenge?”
For a fourth and final time, the logo's 'D' performed its transitional sequence.
Clip 4
"This challenge was built for me!" Chase boasted in the make-up trailer. “No puzzles or tricks. Just me dribbling a ball and slam dunking! Swish!"
The 'D' was shown again, now as a signal of the recap's end.
(Theme Song)
The Aftermath intro sequence played again, fading this time into the show's stage as the crowd cheered wildly. "Hey everyone!" Damien greeted from the center couch, Priya on his left and the filled-up Peanut Gallery to Priya's left. "We're back for another Total Drama Action Aftermath Show! I'm Damien," the nervous wreck waved at the camera as it came in for a close-up.
"And I'm Priya," the reality TV fan added with a smile as the shot panned over to her. "A lot has happened since last time.”
“We've lost some serious competitors,” Damien said. “There's Izzy," the shot cut to the screen hanging above the hosts where the wild child's smiling portrait was displayed while the crowd applauded.
"What happened to her was mind-blowing!" Priya interjected.
"Then we got Millie," Damien added to more applause as the author's face moved Izzy’s out of the way. "She was doing so well too."
"And we can't forget Chase!" Priya said, the audience cheering once more as the hanging screen's picture changed to that of the daredevil. "All will be with us here today!"
"Not to mention our friends from last season," Damien added as the camera moved back to the hosts, "and the ones who already lost this time." The camera panned to the Peanut Gallery, where Rodney, Katie, Sadie, Brick, Trent, and Sky sat in front; Sam, Gwen, Eva, Geoff, Scott, and Izzy sat in back; and all smiled and waved for the camera and cheering audience.
“Even though we lost Izzy again, she's already been a guest, so she won't take the hot seat today!” Priya reminded everybody.
“So for the first time, we'll only be interviewing two people this episode,” Damien added.
"You know," Priya leaned towards the camera and audience, "Damien and I have been having a bit of a squabble over what you guys want to see increase ratings."
Damien frowned. "I know that this is a reality show and everyone wants to know what went down, but the people that competed on TDA have already been tortured by Chris!” he claimed. “Add in losing out on a million bucks and they should be able to come here and feel safe to speak their minds."
“No one goes on a reality show to feel safe, Damien,” Priya argued. “This isn't a cushy talk show. With the lighting on these shows, who needs to win a million bucks when you look like a million bucks?”
“I'm not sure everyone would agree with you there, Priya,” Damien said back.
“Our lighting isn't all that good, but I'm not going to make a big stink about it,” Priya muttered. “The point is, this isn't a therapy session where people come to talk about their problems. And even so, I'm not gonna make them feel any better about them.”
Priya's comment earned a scoff from her boyfriend. “I'm just doing what our producers tell me to do. And I take my job seriously.”
“We're supposed to get the goods from people,” Damien added. “How are they supposed to open up to us when they might get hit over the head with a hammer?! Or an anvil?!”
They looked over at the still intact anvil swinging slightly. “The anvil is pretty cool!” Priya claimed happily before getting serious. “All this is the point of the segment. To get the truth! And we've got something even better for today!”
“You know, you've become a total Chris clone!” Damien stated in disapproval. “Sadistic and cocky!”
“I'm gonna ignore that for now,” Priya talked over him cheerfully as the audience cheered. “Our show is thrilling! And we have not one, but two guests tonight. And because they've had their moments of awesome during the show, they're getting something extra.”
“Millie and Chase have been voted out by some behind-the-scenes stunts!” Damien protested. “No way are they getting tortured!”
"Before you get to the interviews, I have to interrupt!" Scott exclaimed as he stood up and got looks from those seated around him. He still had a sling on his right arm. "There's no way that I am not the only one who has seen this!"
"Seen what exactly?" Priya asked.
"Izzy's elimination!" Scott exclaimed. "Didn't anybody notice something a little cuckoo?"
Priya and Damien shared an odd look before turning it on Scott. "Just play the clip so I can point out the obvious to you."
"If you say so," Priya said in confusion. The camera moved up to the hanging television, which quickly switched from static to the over-the-shoulder view of the Gaffers’ votes.
"No, not that clip!” Scott objected. “The clip where the final Gilded Chris was handed out!"
"You should've been more specific," Priya reminded the dirt farmer. "Roll the clip."
The camera panned back up to the other screen just as it cut from static to the footage in question.
Chris took another look at his envelope. “And the final Gilded Chris goes to… MK."
The music took a sudden, loud twist as everyone gasped while MK caught her prize with an expected smirk.
The clip paused at that instant, and the shot cut to Scott looking up at it with an expected look on his face. "See?" he said. He received only blank looks from the hosts, and groaned. "Fine, I'll point out the obvious," he said while walking over to the central couch and bent down in front of the display on the table.
The camera focused back on the paused clip, showing three of the Gaffers in mid-gasp – all except MK, whose smirk was quickly circled.
"There it is!" Scott exclaimed as the scene cut back to the studio. "MK was expecting it!"
"I remember MK voting for me," Izzy spoke up. "Why else would she not be satisfied?"
"Because obviously, MK should've been the one eliminated that episode," Scott explained. "She should have been just as surprised as the rest of you, Izzy!"
A short dramatic score accompanied the accusation, and the audience gasped.
"Whoa," Damien said in surprise. "Scott may have figured out something juicy! So what do you think happened?" he said to the dirt boy.
“Well, first of all-” Scott opened his mouth.
"Hold up!” Izzy interrupted. “I'm not going to let you say that Chase voted for me on purpose. I can't see him working with MK in order to get rid of me."
"But what else could it be?" Priya asked. "Maybe MK manipulating him?"
"I wouldn't be shocked by that," Izzy replied, "but if she told Chase a lie just to get rid of me, I think Chase would've said something about it once I was voted off."
"Hmm. Good point," Priya thought about it.
"Plus, I'm pretty sure Chase would have said something in a confessional, and as far as I've been told, he’s said nothing about the sort," Damien pointed out.
"As I was going to say," Scott said with a hint of annoyance, "I don't think Chase intentionally voted for you and you intentionally voted for Ripper. I’d say that MK found a way to rig the voting devices so that you’d get the most votes no matter what."
Everyone gasped at that claim. "I say a lot of wild things, but I have to agree with Scott here," Izzy said. "The votes were definitely rigged!"
"Thank you," Scott replied.
"Sorry, but that seems out of the ordinary to me," Priya said. "Wouldn't the producers have done something if MK fudged with the votes?"
"Yeah," Damien chimed in. "They punished Chef for making a deal with a contestant."
"Then maybe the producers didn't know about it and it wasn't caught on camera!” Scott pointed. “Back in the first season, I sure as heck didn't have the game rigged for me! The same can be applied for MK."
"Uh, dude, they film us half the time,” Geoff spoke up. “They're obviously looking over everybody's shoulder when it comes to voting."
"But it's the only thing that makes sense here!" Scott exclaimed. "Why is Izzy the only one here that believes me?"
"Whoa there," Damien said suddenly. "You can cool down now."
"Yeah," Priya said, "you're starting to look insane. We’ll look into the episodes closely if it suits you well."
"This is something that I’m not making up just to trick you, you know," Scott finished and walked back to the peanut gallery.
"Well, that was interesting," Priya said awkwardly.
"But on the upside, it means we don't have to fill up this episode’s run time with useless filler," Damien added.
"And now we can get to the first interview!" Priya said with a confident smile. "But before we see what's in store for Chase, let's see what he's been through already!"
The shot cut back up to the hanging screen where Chase's portrait was displayed once again. "Chase started this season the same way he starts everyday," Damien said.
"Eager and ready for action!" Priya finished as the screen transitioned to a clip of Chase swinging on a vine in the war challenge.
"Sadly, it couldn't score him the win," Damien said over Chase performing well in the surfing challenge.
"His relationship with Millie gave his fans even more reason to root for him," Priya added as the couple eating sandwiches was replayed, "even though they ended up on different teams."
"Unfortunately, Chase's time in the spotlight was cut short after he received the majority of the votes," Damien's comment played over the scene of Chase's elimination.
"So sad!" Priya said as the screen cut to static and the camera pulled back, then panned back down to the hosts. "But at least he didn't get robbed out of the game, right?!" she asked the crowd, who responded with applause. "Our first guest is a sports master, can outrun seven contestants, and is no stranger to over-salting other people's eggs. Everyone give a warm welcome to Chase!"
The crowd went wild as the Aftermath theme played, but nobody appeared at the backstage camera.
"Ahem," Priya loudly cleared her throat. "Chase, everyone!" The Aftermath theme played again but nobody came out, leaving the hosts and Peanut Gallery to exchange confused looks with one another.
The scene cut backstage as a young white man with blonde hair knocked on an open door. "You're on," he said as he looked at the clipboard in his hands.
The camera pulled back to show Chase and Millie sitting on the couch together.
"I can do this," Chase smiled confidently. "I've been on TV before. I can definitely handle an interview." He stood up, and the author smiled up at him.
"You'll do great," Millie said reassuringly.
"I know I will!" Chase nodded, and the Aftermath theme played once again as he made a beeline for the exit.
Chase walked out on stage with a smile and a wave towards the cheering audience. After a moment, he turned and walked towards the guest couch.
"Damien! Priya! It's cool to see you two again!" he told the hosts, shaking Priya's hand and fist bumping Damien.
"It's so great to have you here!" Priya replied.
"Yeah," Damien added. "It's not like we wanted to see you eliminated," he explained as they all sat back down, "but we are glad that you're not being a bad sport over your elimination.”
“How are you feeling now, after everything that's happened in the game?" Priya wondered.
"It's hard to know where to begin," Chase answered with a light laugh.
Damien laughed as well. "Just speak your mind."
"Well, I was doing pretty good for myself," Chase said. "I got along well with the contestants and hardly made any enemies at all. Up until my elimination, I don't even remember being in the bottom two. Izzy, sorry again about your elimination!"
“Water under the bridge,” Izzy said with a smile. “It wasn't your fault!”
"When you put it like that, you almost had it easy on the film lot," Damien chuckled.
"And it's no surprise why you were eliminated. You were too skilled for them!" Priya quipped, and the audience laughed.
“I'm not a god or anything,” Chase claimed, “but I wouldn't be surprised if someone hired me to be a stuntman for a movie.”
"I wonder if you'll be able to keep that cool attitude when you're in the hot seat while playing 'Truth or Electrocution'!" Priya told the boy before winking knowingly at the camera.
The same theme as 'Truth or Hammer' and 'Truth or Anvil' played over a receding shot of the same golden statue of the Lady of Justice. The audience applauded wildly, and the sequence came to an end with the statue getting destroyed by a bolt of lightning.
Chase looked towards the backstage curtain, and the camera panned over to show a rather large wooden electric chair with a pumpkin-headed test dummy seated in it. The same male intern from earlier pressed a button on a remote, which lowered the helmet onto the pumpkin. After a surge of electricity and a dramatic twist in the background music, the pumpkin exploded to the shock of the audience.
"Can I sit this one out?" Chase asked cautiously, turning his eyes back to the hostess. “I'm all for danger, but I'm above electrocuting myself!”
"Yeah, this is totally going overboard, Priya," Damien added. "You cannot think that electrocuting people on live TV is a good idea!"
Priya shrugged apathetically. "Sorry, but the producers were bent on doing this. Don't worry," he told the athletic boy. "They've assured me the chair is totally safe. It's on low voltage!"
"Okay then..." Chase muttered as he walked over to the chair.
"Are you seriously going to go through with this?" Damien asked in disbelief. "You don't have to do everything the producers say!"
"I do not have anything to hide," Chase told him as the blond intern from earlier strapped him into the chair.
Priya giggled. "That's the spirit!" A few chuckles came from the audience, and she continued. "So Chase, tell us: who are you mad at the most right now? Is it Anne Maria, Justin, and Topher for being the ones to actually vote for you? Or maybe even MK, for not warning you about you being targeted?" The crowd gasped at the last remark.
Chase was shown to be flabbergasted. "So MK knew that I was going to get eliminated? That's why she convinced me to vote for Topher. So the votes would sway away from Justin! That girl is so ratty!" he ranted.
"Okay then," Priya laughed a bit. "What about the others? You've got to be mad at the three for even targeting you."
"Them I'm not upset at!" Chase answered. “They just had to vote for someone, and Ripper had immunity while I didn't!"
"How correct you are," Priya said. "In fact, we have a clip that partly explains your elimination!" She looked up at the hanging screen as it started to play footage from the superhero episode.
"I'm happy that Anne Maria won the first challenge and all," Topher said, "but I want either Chase or Ripper to win the second part. That way, we can vote out the non-immune player.”
The scene paused there. "So if you won the superhero challenge alongside Anne Maria, you wouldn't be here right now," Damien said.
"Yeah, but I guess it is kinda my punishment for how I got Izzy eliminated," Chase said as the camera cut back to him.
"Well," Priya stated forcefully, "you did vote her out, but I'm not holding that against you. Enough about that. I think it's time we finally get to know you well."
Chase raised an eyebrow, and Priya continued. "Remember, if you don't answer this question truthfully, you get electrocuted."
"I got it," Chase nodded.
Priya smirked. "Glad to hear it! Now Chase, tell the truth. Who inspired you to be who you are today? Pranking and looking for danger, to be precise."
Chase was stunned by the question, but he sucked it up and answered "Well, I have an uncle named Nick. He's 30, and he used to be a daredevil before switching to selling skateboards as a job."
"And what does that have to do with you?" Priya wondered.
"I'm getting to that," Chase told her. "After he got that job, he told me stories about his own endeavors, and all of them influenced me to take up his old mantle as the family's stuntman. If he was here, he'd go into depth about it all."
"You know,” Damien spoke up, “I thought this might happen so I did some stuff ahead of time. Just give me some time to get prepared. “I'll be back in a couple minutes."
As Damien got up and walked off stage, the Aftermath theme started playing and Priya shot an uncertain look at the camera. "I guess this is where we’ll be taking a short break! Don't turn off your TV just yet!"
(Commercial Break)
The logo's 'D' transitioned the scene to Priya announcing "It's time for 'That's Gonna Leave a Mark'!" as the segment's intro sequence played and the audience cheered.
Both the montage of pain and it's campy theme music started soon after, the footage beginning with Topher combing his hair until his brush got stuck in his couf. That was followed by a clip of Izzy getting hit in the forehead by a monocle.
Next up was Chris throwing the ball to Justin, only to end up hitting his groin and making him fall over. Several more nutshots were shown next: Ripper trying to move across the lasers, only for a beam to hit in-between his legs; Chase rolling along the roof after the cast ziplined away from the water tower and getting stopped by a poorly-placed metal chimney; the Grips’ cheering after winning the heist challenge, only for Topher to get hit in the nuts by a boom mic; and Ripper getting hit in the jewels during the sports challenge via the badminton birdie.
The next clip featured the blond intern, walking through a grassy area until a pillar from the caveman duels fell on him. During the caveman challenge, the Gaffer team symbol fell on Jasmine, and the Grip symbol whacked Millie during her confessional. After Ripper dropped his rock onto MK's foot, MK was then crushed by a falling large rock.
As the teams ran to their get-away cars in the bank heist, Jasmine got her leg stuck in an oddly placed bear trap. Ripper was making his confessional only to be knocked unconscious by an intern.
Chef drove the golf cart with the rack of ribs towards the fake tar pit for the reward, only to rear-end another golf cart driven by Sasquatchanakwa. The yeti got out and started bashing Chef's cart with a golf club, then made a gesture with his fingers that had to be blurred out.
The music came to an end and the audience laughed and cheered. The camera panned back down to the hosts as Damien took his seat back on the couch.
"What was that about?" Priya asked in a hushed tone.
"I wanted to prove that we can care about the viewers and our friends," Damien whispered before looking at the camera. "And now, I'd like to introduce a surprise guest," a drumroll began in the background as Damien looked at the curtain past the Peanut Gallery, "Chase's uncle!"
The drumroll led into the Aftermath theme as a middle-aged man walked out on stage. His hair was an afro and he wore a yellow jacket with blue jeans.
"Uncle Nick!" Chase said excitedly, still strapped into the electric chair.
"Hey Chase!" Nick smiled as he strolled right past the host couch and stopped in front of Chase. "Question, why are you in an electric chair?"
Chase looked at his bonds, then back at his uncle. "Because they didn't let me out during the commercials."
"We'll have someone get you out of there," Priya said as the blond intern approached the chair. The moment the straps were undone and the helmet lifted, Chase and his uncle shared a hug.
"It's so nice to see you again," Chase said.
"I missed you as well," Nick replied.
"Why don't you two have a seat? We don't have time for a lot of questions," Damien added as the pair sat on the couches, "so maybe you can explain how you inspired Chase to be who he is, right Nick?"
"Well, I used to do stunts that were extraordinary, and even though I'd get injured, I had fun risking my life and surviving to leave a legacy on the world,” Nick recapped, “but as I entered college, I knew that I had to retire and move on with my life, but that didn't mean that I couldn't tell stories to my nephew.”
"He told me every single stunt that he pulled and he even gave me one of his skateboards so I could practice down at the skatepark," Chase added. "My uncle may have left me to take up the family's mantle of daredevil, but I owe everything to him for making me discover my purpose in life."
"I just met you, but you're a pretty great uncle!" Damien said to Nick.
"Thank you. I want my nephew to be happy just like his parents," Nick confirmed.
An 'aww' was uttered forth from the audience. "Good on you for bringing Nick out here, Damien!" Priya said.
"No problem," Damien smiled. "But I think it's about time to introduce our last guest, don't you?"
"Definitely," Priya answered and looked at the camera. "Our next guest is easily the most studious person on the show," the hostess said as the camera panned back up to the hanging screen, which now showed an image of Millie.
"Yeah, and while she may not look it," Damien said over Millie writing in her book while sitting on her bunk, "she’s a strong player and contributor to her team," Millie was shown preventing Trent from falling over and trying to crack open the safe. "Heck, she can even step up as a leader at times!" A few short clips of Millie taking charge during the war challenge played.
"Too bad for her that she wasn't able to get further, though," Priya added while Millie fell into the tar pit. "Despite being a major part of her team and even winning a reward trip with her grandfather," Millie was shown holding a megaphone and producing moans to scare the Gaffers and getting declared the winner of the hospital drama, "she got voted out right before the merge for lacking any kind of connections to her team." Millie's elimination was replayed in part, and the hanging screen cut back to static.
Damien smiled for the camera. "Our next guest spends most of her days focusing on a journal, got shoved off a diving board, and is a pretty good getaway driver, it's Millie!"
The crowd went wild as the Aftermath theme began to play, and Millie trotted out on stage, giving the electric chair a quick look before turning her attention to the crowd. She waved at the audience then walked over to the hosts with a smile on her face.
"Hey guys!" Millie greeted, waving at the hosts before sitting down on the guest couch and waving at Chase and his uncle on the couch behind her. "Thanks for having me here!"
"Great to have you," Damien said.
"Totally," Priya added. "I was loving what you had to offer this season. Too bad you got cut so short!"
“Yeah, but I still have my dignity and pride,” Millie said to them.
“And that’s more important to you than winning money that could make your finances better?” Priya wondered with disappointment.
“I do not have any financial problems, Priya,” Millie told her. “And I’m starting to think that something happened between you two. Do you want to talk about that?"
"Hey, we're the hosts of this show," Priya refused. "We ask the questions and you give the answers."
"I’m good at answering questions," Millie said confidently. “Hit me with your best shot.”
"Then you won't mind taking a seat over there," Priya pointed over to the electric chair which had reappeared on-stage again.
"Umm...sure?" Millie answered hesitantly.
"All you have to do is be honest!" Geoff called out before the shot cut back to the blond intern strapping Millie into the chair.
“I’m not going to lie at all,” Millie promised. “Unless I want a high voltage surprise flowing through my bones.”
"Okay Millie, first question," Priya began. "Who do you blame for your elimination?"
"I'd say Justin," Millie said quickly. “It's pretty clear that he somehow convinced Anne Maria to vote for me. And it was easy for Topher to vote for me as well.”
Priya frowned when no shock came. "How do you feel about Anne Maria even voting for you despite you two becoming friends?"
"I don't hold anything against her," Millie explained. “I am a little bit upset that she fell for Justin's looks, but I probably would if I was in her position.”
“Even though you and Anne Maria have boyfriends?" Priya asked teasingly.
"We resisted Justin during all of our time competing in the season," Millie said. “What makes you think that I'd fall in love with Justin beyond shallowness?”
"I was just asking a question," Priya muttered.
“And I want to move on to the next one,” Millie urged.
“Okay. Do you think that Jasmine switching over to the Gaffers resulted in your downfall?” Damien asked.
Millie sighed. "Kind of. The two of us are good friends, and she supported me throughout the season. Had she not swapped teams, then maybe I'd have a better chance of staying in the game."
"So you expected her to protect you from the votes?" Priya wondered.
"I'm not the strongest player in the game, but that doesn't mean that I'll depend on people to shield me," Millie said with a bit of anger.
Having enough, Damien grabbed Priya by the arm. “We've talked about this after the end of the last episode,” Damien scolded. “You said that you were going to tone down your antics, and so far, I'm not seeing that at all. In fact, I don't even know who you are now.”
Priya took her hand away. “Um, I'm the best and only girlfriend that you have right now.”
“Not anymore!” Damien huffed. “It's over!”
“We don't have time for a short break!” Priya replied.
“No, I was talking about us! Our relationship is finished!” Damien declared, causing the audience to gasp while Priya was blank faced.
Millie was also shown to be stunned as well. “I'd hate to get in-between this problem, but can you two continue the show?”
“I will,” Damien took a deep breath, “but don't expect me to be on good terms with Priya for now.”
“Same with me as well,” Priya responded in a standoffish tone. "And with that out of the way, it's time to talk about something a bit more interesting," she said with a playful smile.
Millie raised a confused eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously.
"Well," Priya said knowingly, "we've gotten a lot of viewer requests to talk about what you said on that reward trip you took a few weeks ago."
"That was private!" Millie said in sudden alarm. "You can't show it on live TV!"
"Sorry, Millie, but it's already on the Total Drama website," Damien told her apologetically.
"And as far as the producers are concerned, it's fair game for it to be shown!" Priya said.
"But I didn't think anybody was going to see it," Millie continued in sadness as she slumped further back into the electric chair.
"Well it's too late for that," Priya told her. "Almost everyone at home has seen it, so it's time to show it to the few left who haven't." The camera quick-panned over to the guest couches where Chase was giving Nick a questioning look and receiving a shrug in return.
The camera moved up to the hanging screen as it cut from static to the footage of Millie and her grandfather inside the limousine of losers.
"I have a lot to talk to you about ever since I competed in the first season," Millie said to her grandfather.
Her grandfather smiled proudly. "Spill the details. I can tell you had a ball, but don't blame me if I start to doze off more than I do while writing best selling books."
"I'm not that boring!" Millie laughed cutely. "So it all started when I was dropped off on the dock. I mostly focused on writing my book, but there was a certain boy that caught my eye."
“And who could that young man be?” Millie's grandfather wondered.
“That person is Chase,” Millie answered. “I'll start off with his flaws first.”
“Flaws?” Millie's grandfather raised an eyebrow.
“Well, at first, Chase was inconsiderate, cocky, and had a tendency to show off a lot,” Millie said. “And this is not to bash him at all.”
“Right now, he sounds like a bum to me,” her grandfather said with doubt.
“But there's more to him than that,” Millie continued. “He's funny, friendly, and a well-meaning person, and as we got to know each other, he helped me be less uptight and rule-abiding.”
“And did Chase improve himself for you at all?” Millie's grandfather asked.
“Yes he did, granddad,” Millie responded. “He became more caring and thoughtful, and after he wrote me haikus, we finally started to date. I know he doesn't meet the family's expectations, and he can still be reckless at times, but I really love him, and he does as well.”
Her grandfather was touched to hear the words coming from her granddaughter's mouth. “Millie, I had no idea you two had a healthy relationship going on, and with how nice this boy is, you have my blessing to date him,” he said.
“Really? You and my parents are not going to forbid me from dating Chase?” Millie asked with shock.
“We would if he wasn't treating a lovely lady like you right,” Millie's grandfather said. “Enjoy your relationship with him. I’ll put in a good word for Chase when I tell your parents.”
Millie smiled and gave her grandfather a hug. “I love you, granddad.”
“I love you too, Millie,” Millie's grandfather returned the hug. “Now let's enjoy ourselves on our spa night. That facial is calling my name.”
The footage cut to static, and the camera pulled back and panned down to Chase and his uncle.
“So that's what you wanted to show to us?” Chase asked the hosts. “Personal information?”
“Don't blame us for wanting to spice up the show,” Priya giggled.
“Okay, can someone get me out of this thing?!” Millie demanded, and the blond intern came over to unstrap her while the helmet was lifted off. After he left, Millie got to her feet. “What is your deal, Priya? You're normally kind-hearted, and now you're being super nasty!”
"Tell me something I don't know!" Damien sighed.
"I was able to tolerate this until you decided to show my conversation with my granddad to the world just to embarrass me!" Millie reprimanded.
"This is a reality show. People are bound to get embarrassed," Priya countered. "Can you back me up on this, Chase?"
Chase was also shown to be upset as well. "Sorry, but you are acting like a full-blown jerk now, Priya," he added. “Even if I wanted to know what Millie's family thinks of me, I would not be nosy about it.”
“And I thought you learned that from last season after you tried to figure out the haiku,” Millie scolded.
“This is just all for fun,” Priya pouted. “Don't take it personally.”
"You know what I think would be more enjoyable?" Damien interjected as he walked over to the two guests and whispered something in their ears.
"Since you're a big fan of Truth or Electrocution, we think you should take a turn!" Millie grinned before she, Chase and Damien ran over to grab Priya.
“Hey!” Priya protested while the Peanut Gallery was entertained by the event going on.
Priya was thrown onto the chair, and after the helmet got dropped on her head, the intern strapped her tight while the audience were guffawing about.
"Now it's our turn to ask the questions," Damien said deviously.
"No problem," Priya said with fake confidence. "I'm really honest."
"Priya, is all the secret revealing, narcissism, and apathy really the new you? Or is this just what you think the producers want from you?" Millie asked.
Priya pursed her lips. "This is me completely." She was promptly electrocuted, earning a gasp from the audience. "Okay, I’m just acting like this so that the show doesn’t get canceled and we don’t lose our jobs."
"I've got one! How do you really feel about Damien and all of us?" Chase asked next.
"Alright! I still care about Damien a lot. I’m really sorry about how I acted. I lost control of myself, and I wasn’t surprised that Damien dumped me. I let the show become my fullest priority, and it made me do some underhanded stuff. Can you all forgive me?" Priya looked sadly at the people in front of her.
"Don't worry, Priya," Damien reassured her. "We understand now, and we all forgive you. In fact, I take back us being broken up. I don’t know what I’d do without the girl I hooked up with back on the island."
The audience awwed as Priya smiled gratefully. "Thanks!"
"So are you going to apologize for showing my private conversation to everyone?" Millie asked.
"Millie, I’m also sorry for that as well," Priya apologized. "I know the producers already put it up online, but I had no right to show it to everybody just for ratings. Your relationship with Chase is your own business, and I really promise to not invade you like that again."
“I can see that you’re being sincere,” Chase said. “Thanks for not lying.”
"So you promise to be yourself from now on and not pull any strings?" Damien asked Priya.
"Double promise," Priya nodded. "I am not going to stoop to Chris’ levels anytime soon."
“Yeah, the last thing we’d need right now is a female Chris,” Millie added as Chase agreed with her.
The Aftermath theme began as the scene cut back to Damien and Priya, the latter already out of her bonds. "Well, I guess that's it for tonight," Damien told the audience as he helped his slightly-singed girlfriend to her feet.
"Join Chris and the cast next time," Priya said as the crowd began to clap and cheer again, "for another totally suspense-filled episode of Total! Drama! Action!" The shot pulled back from the stage, and the two hosts shared a kiss.
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
Priya and Damien were shown to be happily kissing each other on the host couch. After a few moments, the camera panned to the guest couch, where Millie and Chase were watching awkwardly.
"Do they even know that we're still here?" Chase asked.
"I don't think it matters to them," Millie said.
"How about we go to the guest room for some alone time?" Chase said with a knowing wink.
“You don't need to ask me twice,” Millie smiled teasingly before they ran off together.
Eva - 15th
Geoff - 15th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 13th
Sky - 12th
Brick - 11th
Scott - 10th
Izzy - 9th
Millie - 8th
MERGE
Chase - 7th
Boys: Justin, Ripper, Topher
Girls: Anne Maria, Jasmine, MK
2024.06.07 19:42 LawyerVet36 The Chaos Begins - Saturday Morning
It's been a couple days since my last post because it took me so long to get everything down that happened just between the time I woke up and lunch on Saturday. I'd like to tell you that the rest of the weekend went by with less going on but that's just not so. Oh, and since it's Friday I can tell you that things just keep getting stranger, but I'm not going to jump ahead. Here's the first half of Saturday, I'm working on the second half.
Saturday Morning
I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing and immediately noticed that the sun was high enough that light was pouring through my windows. Since I normally wake up before the sun rises, I was a little disoriented as I grabbed my phone and fumbled to answer it.
It was Emily, letting me know she’d be at my apartment in 30 minutes and asking if I wanted her to pick anything up. I told her I was fine but that if she wanted anything other than black coffee, she should stop on the way, I’d pay her back. She thanked me, said she’d swing by the grocery store on the way, and hung up.
I looked at my phone and saw it was around 7:45. I ran the dogs downstairs quickly so they could do their business. The first thing I noticed was that Craig was gone, but his replacement was standing by the door. I realized that having a guard outside my door was going to be too obvious and made a mental note to talk to John about how to handle the security more discreetly.
Running back upstairs, I quickly showered and got dressed. Dropping a pod in the coffee maker, I scrolled through my missed calls while the cup filled. Emily was going to have her hands full if things kept up at this pace. I noticed that the calls continued until almost 2 am and that several were from my oldest brother (half-brother), including the last one.
Just a little before 8:30, I heard a knock on the door. I assumed it was Emily but was surprised to see the security guy standing there. “Good morning, sir. There is a young lady downstairs who says she’s related to you and supposed to be here. I asked her to wait for a moment while I confirmed. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid you didn’t answer when I called, and we don’t have a calendar for you or a list of approved guests.”
I hadn’t even thought about security when I told Emily to come by. “That’s totally my fault. I’m not used to this at all yet. That’s my niece Emily. She’ll be working for me over the summer. Please make sure I get your number before you leave so I can put it in my phone. You can go ahead and send her up.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll do so right away.” He turned and went back downstairs. I left the door open, and a moment later Emily walked in looking confused.
“Ummm, Alex, who was that?”
I took the grocery bags from Emily and put them on the counter. Grabbing another mug from the cabinet, I made a second cup of coffee and told Emily to fix it any way she wanted. She pulled out the cream and sugar along with a box of pastries. I realized I was hungrier than I thought and grabbed one as I answered.
“That was our security. They’ll be here for at least the immediate future or until things settle down. They know who you are now and that you’re working for me for the summer.”
Emily seemed to accept that and finished fixing her coffee before grabbing a pastry of her own.
I explained that I was going to be meeting Mark for breakfast but that Sam was going to stop by and keep her company this morning while she was getting settled in and that I’d be back right after we were done.
I handed her my phone and gave her the passcode. I told her I wanted her to go through all the calls and write down the numbers and how many times each had called. If there wasn’t a contact or caller ID with it, then to reverse search the number and see if any of them came up. I also told her to go through all the voicemails and write down who called and what their message was.
I asked her to delete the ones that were just “call me back” messages but save the rest in case I needed to listen to them. After we finished our coffee and pastries, I helped her gather her stuff and the pastries so we could head downstairs to the office.
John was already there to relieve the other guy and recognized Emily from yesterday, and I could tell she remembered him too. He smiled at her, and she offered up a pastry. He thanked her but declined and asked if I had a schedule for the day yet. I explained I’d be meeting the Chief of Police in about 30 minutes and then returning to the office.
He said he’d like to get about 30 minutes of my time at some point to discuss some security plans, and I promised we’d sit down before lunch.
Unlocking the office, I took Emily’s bag and the groceries from her before asking her to run back upstairs and grab Charlie and Cooper so they wouldn’t be sitting alone while we were in the office. We set up in the conference room, I realized we’d probably need to get some more office furniture soon. She walked back in with the dogs a second later, they were clearly thrilled to be out of the apartment.
I explained we’d be ordering more furniture and a computer for her shortly. My office was clean, organized (mostly), and functional but pretty basic. I only had my desk, some chairs in the foyer for people waiting to meet, and a conference room for larger meetings, closings, etc.
Emily would have to work in the conference room until we could set up another office for her. There were two other vacant offices and a break room. It had been way more space than I needed before, but now I imagined that would change. Just as I was starting to worry about having enough room for a foundation, assistant, etc., I remembered that the entire building was mine, not just the office I was “renting”, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Setting her up with the laptop, I told her where the office supplies were and promised I’d be back shortly, but that I’d be leaving my phone with her, so I wouldn’t be reachable. Then I remembered John and realized she could get hold of him if there was an emergency.
John was in the foyer, and I got his cell number and passed it on to her. I was getting ready to leave when she looked embarrassed for a second and started to speak but then stopped herself. I asked her what was up, and she hesitated before asking quietly if I was going to see if maybe her mom could get out of jail today.
CRAP, I had completely forgotten about Debbie. I told her to hold on one second and grabbed my phone. I had about 10 minutes to get to Carol’s and needed to talk to Dad first. Fortunately, he answered when I called and sounded a lot less stressed than he did yesterday.
“Hey Dad, good morning. Have you got just a minute? We need to talk about Debbie.”
I could almost hear his eyes roll through the phone. “Sure, I guess we need to get her out. Do you want me to handle it?” he asked. I sighed with relief. I was afraid he was going to dig his heels in and want her to stay in jail for the weekend. “No, Dad, I’m meeting Mark in 5 minutes. I should be able to take care of it. I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to hustle to not be late.”
“No problem, son. I’ll be having a conversation with her as soon as she gets out. Tell Mark I said hi.”
I rushed the phone back to Emily and told her I’d work on getting her mom out. She looked relieved as I hurried out the door. Carol’s was only a couple of streets up, but it got packed on the weekend. It had been in that location for almost 70 years, with the third generation now behind the counter and the fourth getting ready to be.
I got there right at 9, and the line was around the block with peppily dressed weekenders waiting to eat, staring at their phones and ignoring their families waiting right next to them. Mark was already inside at his usual table (being chief had its privileges), but even if Mark hadn’t been sitting in his usual booth, he would have been easy to spot. At nearly 6’ 4” and built like an Abram’s tank, he was sure to stand out in any crowd.
Grabbing a seat, I let out a big sigh and relaxed. Mark quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “What’s up with you? I’ve never seen you look so tense.”
“How long have we got, Mark?” I asked with a wry chuckle.
Mark looked a little concerned and said, “All day and night if we need it, spill it.”
“Ok, but before we get into it, I need to ask you a professional question. We’re not going to press charges against Debbie. The night in jail should have been the wake-up call she needed, and if not, my dad’s going to deliver one when he sees her. Are you planning on charging her?”
Mark didn’t even answer; he just picked up his phone and called his duty desk. “Hey Steven, go ahead and cut Debbie Walker loose on my say. Put the papers on my desk, and I’ll sign off when I come back in. Make sure she knows she might still face charges from the DA and that she’d be wise to stay in town.”… “Nope, that’s it, thanks – I’ll stop in on my way home. Hope it’s a quiet today. See ya’.”
“There, one problem off your plate?”
I grinned. “Thanks, Mark. I don’t know if the problem is off my plate, but I know she’s out of your jail and that’s a start. Let’s get our order in, and then I’ve got the story of a lifetime for you.”
For the next 10 minutes, I gave Mark a 30,000-foot view of what had happened yesterday. He sat there quietly listening, only occasionally asking a question. When I got into the numbers, he stopped me and asked me to repeat myself.
I told him how surreal it was and that none of this had really sunk in yet. I mentioned Michael and Debbie getting turned away from the meeting by the security that JA had lined up and told him that the firm had insisted they keep security on me until things cooled down.
Mark nodded and asked if I had let them do that. I said I had reluctantly agreed, and Mark asked if they were here now. I pointed John out; he was standing outside the door and said that JA told me he’s a deputy from a nearby county. Mark’s eyes narrowed, and I saw him nod slightly. I asked him if he knew John.
“Oh yeah, I know him, and while I guess technically he is a deputy of sorts, he runs one of the top private security firms within 300 miles. He’s as good as you can get.” I asked how he knew him, and Mark simply said, “We served together,” and left it at that. “If he’s out here personally, then someone he respects, or someone important, must have asked him to handle your detail.”
“I’m supposed to talk to him when we get done here. He wants to discuss the security plan, but I’m not sure I’d call one guy a detail.”
“Do you mind if I join you?” asked Mark. “I’d like to know what he’s thinking and be ready to brief my officers if necessary.”
“Uh, sure…. Thank you.” I was aware that security was a concern; in addition to the family issues, there was a risk (even if it was small) of kidnapping, blackmail, increased potential for robbery, etc., but I was surprised that JA hadn’t been more direct about who he’d hired. Maybe he had more concerns than he wanted to share.
Breakfast came out right about then, delivered by Sandy, a pretty girl in her early thirties that I’d known most of my life. She was a few years younger than me with a bright smile and a positive energy that made people light up when they saw her. After college, she’d gone to work for one of the largest restaurant operators in the U.S. She’d spent nearly ten years there before leaving as a regional director to return home last year. Her grandparents had started Carol’s, and today Sandy and her cousin ran it. The rumor mill was that they had plans to expand, and that’s what had brought her home.
“Morning Chief… Hey Alex,” she said as she put the plates down. She paused for a moment before she put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Alex, I’m so sorry about Joe. He came in here almost every day. I loved spending time talking to him – when I was working here in high school, he’d tell stories about the old downtown and loved to remind me that he was one of the first people through the door back when my grandparents first opened. I remember mentioning him to my grandmother back then, and she laughed and started talking about him and those dogs. You know no one ever had the heart to tell him he shouldn’t bring them in with him. I hope you’ll bring Charlie by to see me soon. I miss his big head.”
I promised I’d bring him by this week. She refilled our coffees and was walking away when she turned back and said, “I’ll look forward to seeing him, and you!”
Mark laughed behind his coffee cup and took it as an opportunity to give me a hard time. “Watch out, buddy… that girl might have eyes for you!” I protested, but I was wondering what she had meant by that too. Not that it matters, I’m committed to finding out if Sam and I are right for one another. We have a lot of history, but each of us has changed a lot in the last 18 years, and even though we’re both excited about reconnecting, I don’t think either of us is ready to rush into anything.
I filled Mark in on my date with Sam last night and her reaction to the news, which I’d best describe as “cautiously supportive,” and told him she might be at the office right now sitting with Emily, who was going to be working with me for the summer.
We talked a bit more about what Joe had done. He had some questions about the land and asked if I knew which properties were involved. I told him what I knew, which was still pretty limited at that point (I don’t know a lot more now; there’s a lot to take in).
At about that time, Mark’s phone rang. He answered it and got serious real fast as he listened. “Ok, I understand. I’m with Alex right now. Call JA and tell him what happened. Alex and I will head out there in a bit.”
“Finish up, buddy – there’s no rush, but it looks like there was trouble at your uncle’s place again early this morning. This time, the security guard got hurt. He’s just banged up, maybe a concussion. I’ve got officers on-site, and the sheriff is sending over a detective. Whoever did it got scared off before he got into the house.”
We finished eating, and I grabbed the check before Mark could. He told me he’d let me get this one since my family was causing him so much trouble but not to get used to it. Paying at the register, I turned to leave and caught Sandy looking at me. When she saw me catch her, she just smiled and waved. Caught off guard, I waved back.
On the way out, we stopped, and John and Mark shook hands and smiled. “Mark, good to see you doing well! I heard you’d made Chief and figured there was no way we were going to pry you away after that!” It looks like Mark was holding out a little too.
“Yep, the Valley is home. I don’t like the idea of uprooting. It looks like you might be here for a while too; things aren’t calming down just yet. Alex and I have to head out to his uncle’s place. Someone attacked the security guard last night but ran off before going in. You’re welcome to ride with us unless you want to follow.”
John took the information in calmly and nodded. “I’ll follow behind you. I’m sure Alex will be fine riding with the chief of police, and of course, one of the best…”
Mark cut him off. “That’s enough of that; let’s just roll.”
I told Mark I needed to borrow his phone and called my cell. “Emily, hey it’s Alex. How is it going there?” Emily said that she’d gone through all the voicemails and that there were a few I definitely needed to hear. She sounded shaken up but said that Sam was also there. I asked her to hand the phone to Sam. Once she was on, I explained that we were on our way to Joe’s place and told her there had been an incident. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell is going on?” I could hear the aggravation in her voice.
I explained I’d be back as soon as I could but that I had to go check out Joe’s place, and if she needed me, she should call Mark’s cell. She told me to be safe and said she’d stay with Emily until we got back. I made one other quick call to the Verizon store near my office to add 2 lines to my account. One for Emily and a new one for me. Emily’s phone was on her father’s plan, and I didn’t want them to see her calls and texts. I asked them to get them ready quickly, and that I’d be by in the next hour to pick them up.
Handing the phone back to Mark, I noticed how serious he was looking. “Alex, this is serious. I’m not sure that this is related to the will, but I wouldn’t bet against it. You need to have a very real conversation with John. I’m probably going to agree with his security recommendations. This is about more than just your security; it’s also about the people around you.”
I sat quietly for a moment. “I got you. When we get back, we’ll all sit down, and you guys can tell me what you want to do. You have my full support.” I paused, “Mark, I’m really sorry about this. I’m sorry you’re spending your Saturday doing this. I’m sorry your officers had to deal with Debbie, and I’m sorry someone got hurt.” Mark’s face softened as much as it could. “Even if this wasn’t my job, you’re my closest friend, and I’m not letting anything happen to you. Let’s just make sure no one else gets hurt either.”
We pulled up to Joe’s place, and the EMT was still there along with the police and sheriff’s deputies. The security guard was sitting on the back of the ambulance, holding a cold pack on the back of his head and speaking with the police. Mark jumped out of the car and went over to their huddle.
I hung back and went to speak to John. “You and Mark and I can work on detailing how to handle security when we get back to my office. I realize this may be unrelated to the will, but I also know it’s not worth taking risks while we figure things out.”
John nodded. “It’s highly unlikely that it’s unrelated, Alex. I’m not a big believer in coincidence.” We moved toward the ambulance where everyone was gathered. As we got closer, Mark stepped toward us as they continued talking to the guard.
“Evidently, the guard had left his car to check the perimeter when he stumbled onto the intruder trying to jimmy the lock on the back door of the house. He was more surprised than the burglar, who spun around and dropped him before he could even say anything.
“When he came to, the burglar was gone. He followed his tracks to where he parked, but there was no sign. We do have footage from the 360-degree camera on his security vehicle, and we’re hoping to get a good look at the car as soon as they upload a copy to us. We’ve gotten his statement and a rough description of the suspect. They’re going to take him for a CT scan as a precaution, but he appears to be fine other than a nasty cut on his head.”
John interrupted, “Before he leaves, can I ask him a couple of questions?”
Mark agreed and walked him over to the ambulance while I turned to walk the property. I didn’t see anything damaged other than a terra cotta pot on the back porch that had likely been used to knock out the guard, but I still wanted to check the garage.
When I got there, I knew there was a problem. Years of living there made it obvious that something had happened. The door was closed, but I could see that the lock was broken. Using my foot to push it open further, I walked inside, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the filtered light.
The Jag had been searched, with the contents of the glove box thrown around carelessly. The trunk was open, and the tool kit and spare tire had been dumped on the ground. The same was true for Joe’s truck.
Heading upstairs, I saw that my old room had been ransacked as well. My uncle hadn’t really touched anything after I moved out. I recognized a few personal belongings that hadn’t just been tossed on the ground; they’d been utterly destroyed.
I went back downstairs and straight to Mark and John. I told them what I’d found and mentioned how some of my personal belongings had been specifically destroyed. John was standing nearby and exchanged looks with Mark, who said, “This was personal. We’re going to treat this as another issue related to the will. That means this was probably someone in the family; anyone else wouldn’t have known to destroy your things.”
John nodded. “I’ll contact my operations team to bring in additional personnel. I’m going to have someone on your office and home 24/7 as well as someone with you. We’ll also be installing cameras at both properties. Do you have access to the entire building?”
“No, just my offices and apartment, but the building evidently belongs to his estate, and I guess to me. I’ll contact JA and see if he has keys.”
“Ok, I think the security guards should be fine for this property. The guard said there were replacements on the way. Incidentally, JA had already told me that whatever I deemed necessary to keep you safe would be paid for by the estate until it settles. We can discuss longer-term planning after that.” I appreciated John’s reassurances about the cost. I lived comfortably but didn’t have the money to pay for all this security.
Something else occurred to me. “Guys, something else about this is bothering me. Whoever was here was looking for something and obviously didn’t find it since they were trying to get into the house when they got interrupted.” I paused, then continued, “I don’t think it’s valuables or another copy of the will. They searched glove boxes, trunks, and my old room. I don’t know what they’re after, but it must be important.”
“We probably won’t figure that out until we catch whoever it is,” Mark said. “Do you want to go into Joe’s place now?”
“I guess I should do a quick walk-through, but I really need to get back to Emily and Sam.” Unlocking the door to the house, I did a quick scan. I could see glass on the floor from Aunt Debbie’s “visit,” and in the den, I could see the hammer marks on the safe (seriously???).
I told John that I’d probably be moving out here soon and that he might as well start taking a look at security measures for this place as well. I asked Mark when I could get back the things Debbie had gathered up (they were in evidence), and he said as soon as the DA confirmed that they weren’t planning on charging her, they’d release them and I could pick them up for JA.
I didn’t see anything else out of place, so I locked up the house, and we were getting ready to go when two additional cars from the guard’s agency pulled up. John stepped over to speak with them while Mark told his officers and the deputies we were leaving but that he’d check in later.
We pulled out just as the ambulance was taking the guard to the hospital for evaluation. When we hit town, I got Mark to stop so I could run in and grab the phones before we went back to my office. They had them sitting on the counter waiting for me, so I was in and out.
At this point, it was getting close to noon, and breakfast seemed like it was hours ago. We pulled up at the office and went inside to find Sam and Emily sitting at the conference room table laughing. When they saw us come through the door, they both jumped up and started asking questions. After a brief recap of what had happened that morning, I handed Emily her work phone, gave everyone my new number, and asked them to keep it private.
Emily said she’d listened to all the messages on my old phone and that there were a few I needed to hear but a couple that really worried her. Mark asked her to play them for us.
The first one was from my cousin David: “You’re a damn asshole, Alex. Kissing up to that old man so the rest of us don’t get shit. I’m going to kick your ass next time I see you! This isn’t over.”
David’s a hothead, but I really wasn’t concerned about his threats, although both Mark and John were taking notes.
The next one was more of a concern though. It was my half-brother Michael, the one that had shown up late for the meeting. He’d been raised by his mother and hadn’t spent much time with our father growing up, or any of us. He was over 20 years older than me and had been in and out of trouble his whole life. I always had the feeling he blamed us for his relationship with Dad. He’d left the message late on Friday night.
“I’m done getting screwed by this family. I’m just as much a Russell as the rest of you bastards. You took what was rightly mine, but you’re not going to take everything. I know there’s more, and I’m going to get it. If you get in my way, I promise it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Mark and John exchanged looks, and I knew they were taking this call seriously. Emily was going through the rest of the messages; some were from clients, some were from family telling me that they knew how much I meant to Joe and him to me, and that they were happy for me. My Aunt Patricia called almost a dozen times, begging me to call her.
There were a few other callers that I suspect had heard the rumors, but I had no idea who they were and would figure out how to handle them later.
As Emily was wrapping up, Mark’s phone rang. He answered and listened for a minute. “Ok, listen, just a hunch, but run Michael Russell’s name and see what cars are registered to him. I’ll hold.” After a moment, he said, “Yep – it was a good hunch. Put out a BOLO and tell the Sheriff’s office we’re going to want to have a talk with him. Call me if you find him.”
Getting off the phone, Mark shared that, “We’ve got footage of a car leaving the area right around the time the guard was attacked. There was a partial plate visible from one of the camera angles on the guard’s car. I had them run Michael’s DMV records, and they came back with a match. We’ll pick him up as soon as we see him. If we can connect him with the attack, he’ll be facing charges.”
Looking over at me, he said, “Alex, I don’t have to tell you this isn’t like the situation with Debbie. If Michael attacked that guard he’s going to be prosecuted.”
Emily’s face fell, and she looked down as if she wanted to hide. Mark saw her reaction, and realized that he’d forgotten Debbie was Emily’s mom. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, your mom just made a silly mistake. I don’t know if you’ve talked to your dad yet, but he’s probably already picked her up. Either way, it has nothing to do with you. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I had forgotten to tell Emily that Debbie was being released, and her face immediately lit up. “No, I didn’t hear from Dad. We’re not really talking right now, but I’ll call Mom in a bit!” she said excitedly.
This whole time Sam had been sitting quietly, taking it all in. I had no idea what she was thinking and frankly wasn't sure I wanted to know.
I hadn’t even had lunch yet, and I’d gotten Aunt Debbie out of jail, a guard had been attacked at my uncle’s house, my brother was a suspect in a serious assault, and for some reason, Emily’s father wasn’t speaking to her.
Add to that, I have no idea what Michael is talking about or what he’s looking for. I'll have to tell you more about him soon.
There were obviously a lot more issues in the family than I ever knew. I was going to have to start figuring things out, and fast.
submitted by LawyerVet36 to InTheValley [link] [comments]
Saturday Morning
I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing and immediately noticed that the sun was high enough that light was pouring through my windows. Since I normally wake up before the sun rises, I was a little disoriented as I grabbed my phone and fumbled to answer it.
It was Emily, letting me know she’d be at my apartment in 30 minutes and asking if I wanted her to pick anything up. I told her I was fine but that if she wanted anything other than black coffee, she should stop on the way, I’d pay her back. She thanked me, said she’d swing by the grocery store on the way, and hung up.
I looked at my phone and saw it was around 7:45. I ran the dogs downstairs quickly so they could do their business. The first thing I noticed was that Craig was gone, but his replacement was standing by the door. I realized that having a guard outside my door was going to be too obvious and made a mental note to talk to John about how to handle the security more discreetly.
Running back upstairs, I quickly showered and got dressed. Dropping a pod in the coffee maker, I scrolled through my missed calls while the cup filled. Emily was going to have her hands full if things kept up at this pace. I noticed that the calls continued until almost 2 am and that several were from my oldest brother (half-brother), including the last one.
Just a little before 8:30, I heard a knock on the door. I assumed it was Emily but was surprised to see the security guy standing there. “Good morning, sir. There is a young lady downstairs who says she’s related to you and supposed to be here. I asked her to wait for a moment while I confirmed. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid you didn’t answer when I called, and we don’t have a calendar for you or a list of approved guests.”
I hadn’t even thought about security when I told Emily to come by. “That’s totally my fault. I’m not used to this at all yet. That’s my niece Emily. She’ll be working for me over the summer. Please make sure I get your number before you leave so I can put it in my phone. You can go ahead and send her up.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll do so right away.” He turned and went back downstairs. I left the door open, and a moment later Emily walked in looking confused.
“Ummm, Alex, who was that?”
I took the grocery bags from Emily and put them on the counter. Grabbing another mug from the cabinet, I made a second cup of coffee and told Emily to fix it any way she wanted. She pulled out the cream and sugar along with a box of pastries. I realized I was hungrier than I thought and grabbed one as I answered.
“That was our security. They’ll be here for at least the immediate future or until things settle down. They know who you are now and that you’re working for me for the summer.”
Emily seemed to accept that and finished fixing her coffee before grabbing a pastry of her own.
I explained that I was going to be meeting Mark for breakfast but that Sam was going to stop by and keep her company this morning while she was getting settled in and that I’d be back right after we were done.
I handed her my phone and gave her the passcode. I told her I wanted her to go through all the calls and write down the numbers and how many times each had called. If there wasn’t a contact or caller ID with it, then to reverse search the number and see if any of them came up. I also told her to go through all the voicemails and write down who called and what their message was.
I asked her to delete the ones that were just “call me back” messages but save the rest in case I needed to listen to them. After we finished our coffee and pastries, I helped her gather her stuff and the pastries so we could head downstairs to the office.
John was already there to relieve the other guy and recognized Emily from yesterday, and I could tell she remembered him too. He smiled at her, and she offered up a pastry. He thanked her but declined and asked if I had a schedule for the day yet. I explained I’d be meeting the Chief of Police in about 30 minutes and then returning to the office.
He said he’d like to get about 30 minutes of my time at some point to discuss some security plans, and I promised we’d sit down before lunch.
Unlocking the office, I took Emily’s bag and the groceries from her before asking her to run back upstairs and grab Charlie and Cooper so they wouldn’t be sitting alone while we were in the office. We set up in the conference room, I realized we’d probably need to get some more office furniture soon. She walked back in with the dogs a second later, they were clearly thrilled to be out of the apartment.
I explained we’d be ordering more furniture and a computer for her shortly. My office was clean, organized (mostly), and functional but pretty basic. I only had my desk, some chairs in the foyer for people waiting to meet, and a conference room for larger meetings, closings, etc.
Emily would have to work in the conference room until we could set up another office for her. There were two other vacant offices and a break room. It had been way more space than I needed before, but now I imagined that would change. Just as I was starting to worry about having enough room for a foundation, assistant, etc., I remembered that the entire building was mine, not just the office I was “renting”, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Setting her up with the laptop, I told her where the office supplies were and promised I’d be back shortly, but that I’d be leaving my phone with her, so I wouldn’t be reachable. Then I remembered John and realized she could get hold of him if there was an emergency.
John was in the foyer, and I got his cell number and passed it on to her. I was getting ready to leave when she looked embarrassed for a second and started to speak but then stopped herself. I asked her what was up, and she hesitated before asking quietly if I was going to see if maybe her mom could get out of jail today.
CRAP, I had completely forgotten about Debbie. I told her to hold on one second and grabbed my phone. I had about 10 minutes to get to Carol’s and needed to talk to Dad first. Fortunately, he answered when I called and sounded a lot less stressed than he did yesterday.
“Hey Dad, good morning. Have you got just a minute? We need to talk about Debbie.”
I could almost hear his eyes roll through the phone. “Sure, I guess we need to get her out. Do you want me to handle it?” he asked. I sighed with relief. I was afraid he was going to dig his heels in and want her to stay in jail for the weekend. “No, Dad, I’m meeting Mark in 5 minutes. I should be able to take care of it. I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to hustle to not be late.”
“No problem, son. I’ll be having a conversation with her as soon as she gets out. Tell Mark I said hi.”
I rushed the phone back to Emily and told her I’d work on getting her mom out. She looked relieved as I hurried out the door. Carol’s was only a couple of streets up, but it got packed on the weekend. It had been in that location for almost 70 years, with the third generation now behind the counter and the fourth getting ready to be.
I got there right at 9, and the line was around the block with peppily dressed weekenders waiting to eat, staring at their phones and ignoring their families waiting right next to them. Mark was already inside at his usual table (being chief had its privileges), but even if Mark hadn’t been sitting in his usual booth, he would have been easy to spot. At nearly 6’ 4” and built like an Abram’s tank, he was sure to stand out in any crowd.
Grabbing a seat, I let out a big sigh and relaxed. Mark quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “What’s up with you? I’ve never seen you look so tense.”
“How long have we got, Mark?” I asked with a wry chuckle.
Mark looked a little concerned and said, “All day and night if we need it, spill it.”
“Ok, but before we get into it, I need to ask you a professional question. We’re not going to press charges against Debbie. The night in jail should have been the wake-up call she needed, and if not, my dad’s going to deliver one when he sees her. Are you planning on charging her?”
Mark didn’t even answer; he just picked up his phone and called his duty desk. “Hey Steven, go ahead and cut Debbie Walker loose on my say. Put the papers on my desk, and I’ll sign off when I come back in. Make sure she knows she might still face charges from the DA and that she’d be wise to stay in town.”… “Nope, that’s it, thanks – I’ll stop in on my way home. Hope it’s a quiet today. See ya’.”
“There, one problem off your plate?”
I grinned. “Thanks, Mark. I don’t know if the problem is off my plate, but I know she’s out of your jail and that’s a start. Let’s get our order in, and then I’ve got the story of a lifetime for you.”
For the next 10 minutes, I gave Mark a 30,000-foot view of what had happened yesterday. He sat there quietly listening, only occasionally asking a question. When I got into the numbers, he stopped me and asked me to repeat myself.
I told him how surreal it was and that none of this had really sunk in yet. I mentioned Michael and Debbie getting turned away from the meeting by the security that JA had lined up and told him that the firm had insisted they keep security on me until things cooled down.
Mark nodded and asked if I had let them do that. I said I had reluctantly agreed, and Mark asked if they were here now. I pointed John out; he was standing outside the door and said that JA told me he’s a deputy from a nearby county. Mark’s eyes narrowed, and I saw him nod slightly. I asked him if he knew John.
“Oh yeah, I know him, and while I guess technically he is a deputy of sorts, he runs one of the top private security firms within 300 miles. He’s as good as you can get.” I asked how he knew him, and Mark simply said, “We served together,” and left it at that. “If he’s out here personally, then someone he respects, or someone important, must have asked him to handle your detail.”
“I’m supposed to talk to him when we get done here. He wants to discuss the security plan, but I’m not sure I’d call one guy a detail.”
“Do you mind if I join you?” asked Mark. “I’d like to know what he’s thinking and be ready to brief my officers if necessary.”
“Uh, sure…. Thank you.” I was aware that security was a concern; in addition to the family issues, there was a risk (even if it was small) of kidnapping, blackmail, increased potential for robbery, etc., but I was surprised that JA hadn’t been more direct about who he’d hired. Maybe he had more concerns than he wanted to share.
Breakfast came out right about then, delivered by Sandy, a pretty girl in her early thirties that I’d known most of my life. She was a few years younger than me with a bright smile and a positive energy that made people light up when they saw her. After college, she’d gone to work for one of the largest restaurant operators in the U.S. She’d spent nearly ten years there before leaving as a regional director to return home last year. Her grandparents had started Carol’s, and today Sandy and her cousin ran it. The rumor mill was that they had plans to expand, and that’s what had brought her home.
“Morning Chief… Hey Alex,” she said as she put the plates down. She paused for a moment before she put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Alex, I’m so sorry about Joe. He came in here almost every day. I loved spending time talking to him – when I was working here in high school, he’d tell stories about the old downtown and loved to remind me that he was one of the first people through the door back when my grandparents first opened. I remember mentioning him to my grandmother back then, and she laughed and started talking about him and those dogs. You know no one ever had the heart to tell him he shouldn’t bring them in with him. I hope you’ll bring Charlie by to see me soon. I miss his big head.”
I promised I’d bring him by this week. She refilled our coffees and was walking away when she turned back and said, “I’ll look forward to seeing him, and you!”
Mark laughed behind his coffee cup and took it as an opportunity to give me a hard time. “Watch out, buddy… that girl might have eyes for you!” I protested, but I was wondering what she had meant by that too. Not that it matters, I’m committed to finding out if Sam and I are right for one another. We have a lot of history, but each of us has changed a lot in the last 18 years, and even though we’re both excited about reconnecting, I don’t think either of us is ready to rush into anything.
I filled Mark in on my date with Sam last night and her reaction to the news, which I’d best describe as “cautiously supportive,” and told him she might be at the office right now sitting with Emily, who was going to be working with me for the summer.
We talked a bit more about what Joe had done. He had some questions about the land and asked if I knew which properties were involved. I told him what I knew, which was still pretty limited at that point (I don’t know a lot more now; there’s a lot to take in).
At about that time, Mark’s phone rang. He answered it and got serious real fast as he listened. “Ok, I understand. I’m with Alex right now. Call JA and tell him what happened. Alex and I will head out there in a bit.”
“Finish up, buddy – there’s no rush, but it looks like there was trouble at your uncle’s place again early this morning. This time, the security guard got hurt. He’s just banged up, maybe a concussion. I’ve got officers on-site, and the sheriff is sending over a detective. Whoever did it got scared off before he got into the house.”
We finished eating, and I grabbed the check before Mark could. He told me he’d let me get this one since my family was causing him so much trouble but not to get used to it. Paying at the register, I turned to leave and caught Sandy looking at me. When she saw me catch her, she just smiled and waved. Caught off guard, I waved back.
On the way out, we stopped, and John and Mark shook hands and smiled. “Mark, good to see you doing well! I heard you’d made Chief and figured there was no way we were going to pry you away after that!” It looks like Mark was holding out a little too.
“Yep, the Valley is home. I don’t like the idea of uprooting. It looks like you might be here for a while too; things aren’t calming down just yet. Alex and I have to head out to his uncle’s place. Someone attacked the security guard last night but ran off before going in. You’re welcome to ride with us unless you want to follow.”
John took the information in calmly and nodded. “I’ll follow behind you. I’m sure Alex will be fine riding with the chief of police, and of course, one of the best…”
Mark cut him off. “That’s enough of that; let’s just roll.”
I told Mark I needed to borrow his phone and called my cell. “Emily, hey it’s Alex. How is it going there?” Emily said that she’d gone through all the voicemails and that there were a few I definitely needed to hear. She sounded shaken up but said that Sam was also there. I asked her to hand the phone to Sam. Once she was on, I explained that we were on our way to Joe’s place and told her there had been an incident. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell is going on?” I could hear the aggravation in her voice.
I explained I’d be back as soon as I could but that I had to go check out Joe’s place, and if she needed me, she should call Mark’s cell. She told me to be safe and said she’d stay with Emily until we got back. I made one other quick call to the Verizon store near my office to add 2 lines to my account. One for Emily and a new one for me. Emily’s phone was on her father’s plan, and I didn’t want them to see her calls and texts. I asked them to get them ready quickly, and that I’d be by in the next hour to pick them up.
Handing the phone back to Mark, I noticed how serious he was looking. “Alex, this is serious. I’m not sure that this is related to the will, but I wouldn’t bet against it. You need to have a very real conversation with John. I’m probably going to agree with his security recommendations. This is about more than just your security; it’s also about the people around you.”
I sat quietly for a moment. “I got you. When we get back, we’ll all sit down, and you guys can tell me what you want to do. You have my full support.” I paused, “Mark, I’m really sorry about this. I’m sorry you’re spending your Saturday doing this. I’m sorry your officers had to deal with Debbie, and I’m sorry someone got hurt.” Mark’s face softened as much as it could. “Even if this wasn’t my job, you’re my closest friend, and I’m not letting anything happen to you. Let’s just make sure no one else gets hurt either.”
We pulled up to Joe’s place, and the EMT was still there along with the police and sheriff’s deputies. The security guard was sitting on the back of the ambulance, holding a cold pack on the back of his head and speaking with the police. Mark jumped out of the car and went over to their huddle.
I hung back and went to speak to John. “You and Mark and I can work on detailing how to handle security when we get back to my office. I realize this may be unrelated to the will, but I also know it’s not worth taking risks while we figure things out.”
John nodded. “It’s highly unlikely that it’s unrelated, Alex. I’m not a big believer in coincidence.” We moved toward the ambulance where everyone was gathered. As we got closer, Mark stepped toward us as they continued talking to the guard.
“Evidently, the guard had left his car to check the perimeter when he stumbled onto the intruder trying to jimmy the lock on the back door of the house. He was more surprised than the burglar, who spun around and dropped him before he could even say anything.
“When he came to, the burglar was gone. He followed his tracks to where he parked, but there was no sign. We do have footage from the 360-degree camera on his security vehicle, and we’re hoping to get a good look at the car as soon as they upload a copy to us. We’ve gotten his statement and a rough description of the suspect. They’re going to take him for a CT scan as a precaution, but he appears to be fine other than a nasty cut on his head.”
John interrupted, “Before he leaves, can I ask him a couple of questions?”
Mark agreed and walked him over to the ambulance while I turned to walk the property. I didn’t see anything damaged other than a terra cotta pot on the back porch that had likely been used to knock out the guard, but I still wanted to check the garage.
When I got there, I knew there was a problem. Years of living there made it obvious that something had happened. The door was closed, but I could see that the lock was broken. Using my foot to push it open further, I walked inside, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the filtered light.
The Jag had been searched, with the contents of the glove box thrown around carelessly. The trunk was open, and the tool kit and spare tire had been dumped on the ground. The same was true for Joe’s truck.
Heading upstairs, I saw that my old room had been ransacked as well. My uncle hadn’t really touched anything after I moved out. I recognized a few personal belongings that hadn’t just been tossed on the ground; they’d been utterly destroyed.
I went back downstairs and straight to Mark and John. I told them what I’d found and mentioned how some of my personal belongings had been specifically destroyed. John was standing nearby and exchanged looks with Mark, who said, “This was personal. We’re going to treat this as another issue related to the will. That means this was probably someone in the family; anyone else wouldn’t have known to destroy your things.”
John nodded. “I’ll contact my operations team to bring in additional personnel. I’m going to have someone on your office and home 24/7 as well as someone with you. We’ll also be installing cameras at both properties. Do you have access to the entire building?”
“No, just my offices and apartment, but the building evidently belongs to his estate, and I guess to me. I’ll contact JA and see if he has keys.”
“Ok, I think the security guards should be fine for this property. The guard said there were replacements on the way. Incidentally, JA had already told me that whatever I deemed necessary to keep you safe would be paid for by the estate until it settles. We can discuss longer-term planning after that.” I appreciated John’s reassurances about the cost. I lived comfortably but didn’t have the money to pay for all this security.
Something else occurred to me. “Guys, something else about this is bothering me. Whoever was here was looking for something and obviously didn’t find it since they were trying to get into the house when they got interrupted.” I paused, then continued, “I don’t think it’s valuables or another copy of the will. They searched glove boxes, trunks, and my old room. I don’t know what they’re after, but it must be important.”
“We probably won’t figure that out until we catch whoever it is,” Mark said. “Do you want to go into Joe’s place now?”
“I guess I should do a quick walk-through, but I really need to get back to Emily and Sam.” Unlocking the door to the house, I did a quick scan. I could see glass on the floor from Aunt Debbie’s “visit,” and in the den, I could see the hammer marks on the safe (seriously???).
I told John that I’d probably be moving out here soon and that he might as well start taking a look at security measures for this place as well. I asked Mark when I could get back the things Debbie had gathered up (they were in evidence), and he said as soon as the DA confirmed that they weren’t planning on charging her, they’d release them and I could pick them up for JA.
I didn’t see anything else out of place, so I locked up the house, and we were getting ready to go when two additional cars from the guard’s agency pulled up. John stepped over to speak with them while Mark told his officers and the deputies we were leaving but that he’d check in later.
We pulled out just as the ambulance was taking the guard to the hospital for evaluation. When we hit town, I got Mark to stop so I could run in and grab the phones before we went back to my office. They had them sitting on the counter waiting for me, so I was in and out.
At this point, it was getting close to noon, and breakfast seemed like it was hours ago. We pulled up at the office and went inside to find Sam and Emily sitting at the conference room table laughing. When they saw us come through the door, they both jumped up and started asking questions. After a brief recap of what had happened that morning, I handed Emily her work phone, gave everyone my new number, and asked them to keep it private.
Emily said she’d listened to all the messages on my old phone and that there were a few I needed to hear but a couple that really worried her. Mark asked her to play them for us.
The first one was from my cousin David: “You’re a damn asshole, Alex. Kissing up to that old man so the rest of us don’t get shit. I’m going to kick your ass next time I see you! This isn’t over.”
David’s a hothead, but I really wasn’t concerned about his threats, although both Mark and John were taking notes.
The next one was more of a concern though. It was my half-brother Michael, the one that had shown up late for the meeting. He’d been raised by his mother and hadn’t spent much time with our father growing up, or any of us. He was over 20 years older than me and had been in and out of trouble his whole life. I always had the feeling he blamed us for his relationship with Dad. He’d left the message late on Friday night.
“I’m done getting screwed by this family. I’m just as much a Russell as the rest of you bastards. You took what was rightly mine, but you’re not going to take everything. I know there’s more, and I’m going to get it. If you get in my way, I promise it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Mark and John exchanged looks, and I knew they were taking this call seriously. Emily was going through the rest of the messages; some were from clients, some were from family telling me that they knew how much I meant to Joe and him to me, and that they were happy for me. My Aunt Patricia called almost a dozen times, begging me to call her.
There were a few other callers that I suspect had heard the rumors, but I had no idea who they were and would figure out how to handle them later.
As Emily was wrapping up, Mark’s phone rang. He answered and listened for a minute. “Ok, listen, just a hunch, but run Michael Russell’s name and see what cars are registered to him. I’ll hold.” After a moment, he said, “Yep – it was a good hunch. Put out a BOLO and tell the Sheriff’s office we’re going to want to have a talk with him. Call me if you find him.”
Getting off the phone, Mark shared that, “We’ve got footage of a car leaving the area right around the time the guard was attacked. There was a partial plate visible from one of the camera angles on the guard’s car. I had them run Michael’s DMV records, and they came back with a match. We’ll pick him up as soon as we see him. If we can connect him with the attack, he’ll be facing charges.”
Looking over at me, he said, “Alex, I don’t have to tell you this isn’t like the situation with Debbie. If Michael attacked that guard he’s going to be prosecuted.”
Emily’s face fell, and she looked down as if she wanted to hide. Mark saw her reaction, and realized that he’d forgotten Debbie was Emily’s mom. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, your mom just made a silly mistake. I don’t know if you’ve talked to your dad yet, but he’s probably already picked her up. Either way, it has nothing to do with you. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I had forgotten to tell Emily that Debbie was being released, and her face immediately lit up. “No, I didn’t hear from Dad. We’re not really talking right now, but I’ll call Mom in a bit!” she said excitedly.
This whole time Sam had been sitting quietly, taking it all in. I had no idea what she was thinking and frankly wasn't sure I wanted to know.
I hadn’t even had lunch yet, and I’d gotten Aunt Debbie out of jail, a guard had been attacked at my uncle’s house, my brother was a suspect in a serious assault, and for some reason, Emily’s father wasn’t speaking to her.
Add to that, I have no idea what Michael is talking about or what he’s looking for. I'll have to tell you more about him soon.
There were obviously a lot more issues in the family than I ever knew. I was going to have to start figuring things out, and fast.
2024.06.07 15:01 TeenageFather9722 [UPDATE] My girlfriend and I got in a huge fight, she left, need advice
This is an update, here’s a link to the original post
Alright I’m sure y’all are busy or will be busy by the time you read this so I’m just gonna give you the update real quick and if you have the time, now or later, you can read the full explanation below.
She gave me a second chance! SHE. GAVE. ME. A. SECOND. CHANCE. We’re dating again! I mean my heart is beating out of my chest right now. Last night was the first good night of sleep I’ve had all week, and she was there in my arms. Thank you all so much! We’ve laid some ground rules for our relationship and we are testing some things.mI’ve put some of your advice into this. Full explanation below. Thank you again, you beautiful people!
Quick reminder: My girlfriend [17F] and I [16M] have a son, we got into a fight earlier this week, I hit her and she left to spend some time at someone else’s house, I chose to go down there to try and fix things between us.
So I went down there. By the time I got there it was around 10PM. The guy told my girlfriend to come out. She did, saw me, and went into the guest room. I sat there for about half an hour until she came out with a mostly empty beer bottle. I convinced her to dump the rest out. We sat in the back porch swing till like midnight. I told her how sorry I was and that I’d be better, other than that we didn’t really talk.
I ended up sleeping on the couch the next three days. We talked a lot. We came up with the idea of testing some communication techniques. And we both promised to stop casually drinking and to stop doing drugs all together. We are talking to my uncle tomorrow too. We’re also gonna go on dates more, do things together more, and just be a normal couple more. But we never actually discussed whether or not we were getting back together though.
I think that was part of our issue. We went from being stupid kids straight into being responsible parents. There wasn’t that in between of normal dating. Anyway, yesterday was our day of fun and also to rekindle that love. We got home late last night. It was her turn to sleep on the couch while I slept in bed. A few minutes after we went to bed she came into my room and told me that she hadn’t been able to sleep the past few days. She wanted to sleep in the bed with me. Few minutes later we…made love.
After we got done I asked her if it meant anything. That was when she told me she still loved me and she wanted to be with me. After all that, she slept like a baby last night. And so…yeah we’re back together. And I am gonna try my damndest not to screw this up. We both are.
Thank you again for all the amazing advice! I cannot explain how happy I am that she gave me a second chance! I can’t do this again. We’re gonna do right by each other this time. I’m on the verge of crying right now. Thank you again for everything!
submitted by TeenageFather9722 to AdviceForTeens [link] [comments]
Alright I’m sure y’all are busy or will be busy by the time you read this so I’m just gonna give you the update real quick and if you have the time, now or later, you can read the full explanation below.
She gave me a second chance! SHE. GAVE. ME. A. SECOND. CHANCE. We’re dating again! I mean my heart is beating out of my chest right now. Last night was the first good night of sleep I’ve had all week, and she was there in my arms. Thank you all so much! We’ve laid some ground rules for our relationship and we are testing some things.mI’ve put some of your advice into this. Full explanation below. Thank you again, you beautiful people!
Quick reminder: My girlfriend [17F] and I [16M] have a son, we got into a fight earlier this week, I hit her and she left to spend some time at someone else’s house, I chose to go down there to try and fix things between us.
So I went down there. By the time I got there it was around 10PM. The guy told my girlfriend to come out. She did, saw me, and went into the guest room. I sat there for about half an hour until she came out with a mostly empty beer bottle. I convinced her to dump the rest out. We sat in the back porch swing till like midnight. I told her how sorry I was and that I’d be better, other than that we didn’t really talk.
I ended up sleeping on the couch the next three days. We talked a lot. We came up with the idea of testing some communication techniques. And we both promised to stop casually drinking and to stop doing drugs all together. We are talking to my uncle tomorrow too. We’re also gonna go on dates more, do things together more, and just be a normal couple more. But we never actually discussed whether or not we were getting back together though.
I think that was part of our issue. We went from being stupid kids straight into being responsible parents. There wasn’t that in between of normal dating. Anyway, yesterday was our day of fun and also to rekindle that love. We got home late last night. It was her turn to sleep on the couch while I slept in bed. A few minutes after we went to bed she came into my room and told me that she hadn’t been able to sleep the past few days. She wanted to sleep in the bed with me. Few minutes later we…made love.
After we got done I asked her if it meant anything. That was when she told me she still loved me and she wanted to be with me. After all that, she slept like a baby last night. And so…yeah we’re back together. And I am gonna try my damndest not to screw this up. We both are.
Thank you again for all the amazing advice! I cannot explain how happy I am that she gave me a second chance! I can’t do this again. We’re gonna do right by each other this time. I’m on the verge of crying right now. Thank you again for everything!
2024.06.07 11:19 NarratorHub How a murder saved my life
I was done. This time I meant it. There were several times in my life where I found myself considering it, contemplating taking my trip to the other side. Last time I had called the suicide hotline and eventually decided to give life one more try. Not this time.
I felt completely at peace about it. This time, I was truly ready to die. I felt the scratchy fiber around my neck after slipping the rope over my head. “The forever necklace,” I thought in a dark little joke just for myself. The rope was tied to a metal loop that was drilled into the ceiling truss to be sure that I would not fail. I had never been so determined to accomplish anything in my life the way I was today.
The old wooden chair I stood on creaked and groaned a mournful protest as I lifted my foot, ready to step off the chair. One deep breath, and I could let it all go.
Then, someone knocked on the door.
I froze in exactly that position, one foot on the chair and one foot off, wondering with a sudden twinge of anger who the hell could be knocking on the door. I spent every last dollar I had to rent this remote cabin where I could spend my last weekend in beauty and peace. The intrusive sound boomed again through the empty house, obliterating my illusion of peace.
I slipped the rope back off my neck with irritation and watched it swing back and forth. “Don’t go anywhere now, we’re not done,” I told the rope, before stepping off the chair and heading down the stairs ready to berate the inconsiderate person who ruined my nearly perfect moment.
After squinting through the peephole of the solid wood door, I could see a gangly man wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up tightly over his head. A sharp black beard with speckled gray poked through the hood, and I could see a pointed pale nose, but otherwise, his features were largely hidden. The man was looking down but swayed side to side on his feet impatiently, sending another spark of irritation through my clenched jaw. He knocked again, louder this time.
I pulled the squeaky cabin door open against my better judgment, but he didn’t seem to be leaving on his own and my sudden anger took control of my arm, which reached forward and pulled the door open. “What do you want?” I asked rudely, not even considering the normal pleasantries.
“Good evening, sir,” The stranger said, a little too nicely. As he lifted his head I could see that he had black combed hair matching his fairly well-groomed beard, a bit of gray mixing in with the dark black. A little dash of salt in the pepper, if you will. “My car broke down about a mile down that dirt road and I was wondering if I could use your phone?” The man felt like a used car salesman with his fake, almost painted-on smile and voice that sounded rehearsed.
“I don’t have a phone,” I told him coldly. It was a lie, of course. While my cell had no service, there was a functioning wall-mounted phone in the kitchen. The older type, with a coiled cord connecting it to the wall mount.
“Oh I’m sure you have a phone, all the cabins up here do.” He told me with his wide, aggravating smile.
“Not this one,” I told him shortly, ending the conversation and wanting him gone. I started shutting the door when he stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing me from shutting the door all of the way.
“It’ll only take me 30 seconds then I’ll be gone.”
Anger spiked in me when he blocked my door with his foot, and I thought about slamming his foot with the door. Instead, and without even giving him a response, I pushed him away from the door and slammed it shut. I heard the click of the deadbolt before I even knew I was locking it.
I stood there for a minute, bewildered by the event. A twinge of guilt struck my gut, I felt maybe I should have helped him. The timing was poor, sure, but how was he supposed to know my “grand plans”? But at the same time, why should I help the guy anyway? Nobody had ever lent me a helping hand when I needed it. That’s just how this cruel world works, nobody gives a shit. And who puts their foot in someone's door?
After staring at the door for some time, maybe a minute, maybe 15, I walked back upstairs and peered out through the window to make sure I was alone. He was gone, but I hadn’t seen him leave. A strange uneasiness crept over me. Things weren't going how they were supposed to.
I checked all the windows, looking for the weirdo. Nothing. So I made some quick tea, one last cup of tea sounded nice, and pushed the strange encounter out of my mind. It was time to find my peace again. I realized that the sun was now starting to set over the nearby mountain peaks. Why not watch it? This would be my last sunset, and It sure was a stunning one.
I pulled a cozy recliner chair to the large upstairs window. Brilliant colors of orange and pink now filled the sky. The clouds were broken up, creating the appearance of a large beautiful pathway over the horizon.
It struck me that, there it was, my beautiful pathway to the afterlife had presented itself, and it was time. It was time to take the path laid before me. I thought that maybe this was a sign, a sign that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. I realized I was standing back on the chair but didn't remember deciding to get back up there. I once again placed the rope over my neck, already positioned so that I was facing the sunset. At that moment, I was completely at peace with my death. I started to take that step, and then….
There was knocking at the door.
This wasn’t the customary 3 or 4 knocks followed by waiting that had invaded my peace before, this was loud panicked knocking that startled me so badly that I almost fell off the chair. It seems ironic, that I was about to willingly step off the chair but the next moment I was fighting for balance to not fall.
The loud knocking continued. Once again, my beautiful peaceful moment had been shattered. I removed the rope and went over to the opposite window to see who the hell had screwed everything up. This time, it was not the hooded weirdo standing at the door, It was a girl. She had long dark hair and appeared to be about my age, maybe a little younger, and she was terrified, crying, and panicked, knocking repeatedly and taking constant looks back over her shoulder.
This time I wasn’t overcome with anger, but a deep concern as I ran down the stairs to the door. As I approached the door, I could hear her pleading for help, still pounding on the door. The second I opened the door she pushed herself in, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
“Wh-“ I started asking, but before I could finish my question she slammed into me so unexpectedly I let out an “oof,” but to my surprise, she pulled me into a tight embrace. Never in my life had I felt anybody hug me as tightly as this crying girl was squeezing me right now. I hugged her back, squeezing her just as tight.
“Wha- what’s wrong?” I asked her with genuine concern as I blew her hair out of my face. She pulled back and looked me in the eye. I couldn’t help but notice that, even through her tears and fear-stricken face, she was absolutely beautiful. Her long dark hair complemented those beautiful green eyes in a perfect sort of way that reminded me of the sunset. They were a shade of green that I had never before seen, almost as if it was a new color that had not been discovered until this girl was born. For a moment, I lost myself in her eyes before the exasperating reality slapped me back to the situation at hand.
“He killed her, he killed Jess.”
Confusion quickly turned to a pit deep in my stomach at what she said. “What? Who? Who’s Jess?” I asked her, still holding her tightly.
He- he came to the door,” She started, barely getting the words out through her sobs and deep breaths. “He asked to use the phone so I let him in. But he had a knife and…. and…” The girl burst into uncontrollable sobs and buried her face in my shoulder. She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to, the truth of the situation crashed down on me. The same guy who knocked on my door earlier had visited another cabin, and this woman had watched her friend to stabbed to death.
I wanted to panic the same way she was, but knew with certainty that she needed me to stay calm, or at least seem calm. I quickly walked her into the kitchen, grabbed the phone with hands so shaky I nearly dropped it and dialed 911.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Yeah uh…. My name is Dean Johansen, there’s been a Murder.” It felt weird to say, and a weird fear struck me that maybe the voice on the phone wouldn’t believe me.
“What’s your address, sir?” The quick, professional voice responded.
I gave her the address of the cabin I was staying at, thankfully it was on a card by the landline phone. I asked the girl for the address where the murder happened. She didn’t know, but she managed to tell the operator that her name was Sarah and the victim's name as well as a description of the killer.
“Okay Sir, please lock the doors and stay inside, emergency responders will be there in about 30 minutes.” The phone lady told me in a matter-of-fact tone as if this was a normal Tuesday call to IT.
“30 minutes? What do you mean 30 minutes?” I asked with deep exasperation. “There’s a MURDERER on the loose!”
“I’m sorry sir, that’s the closest law enforcement to you, you’re in a remote area.” In those last words, I could finally hear a tone of emotion, a sadness that she couldn’t help.
Before I could respond, there was a loud knock on the door making us both jump. Sarah cried out loudly and I dropped the phone. I signaled to her with a single finger placed over my lips knowing full well that whoever was at the door would have already heard her cry out, and quietly, I walked to the door and nervously looked through the peephole. My heart slammed into my gut at the sight of the man who stood on the porch. It was him, the hooded car salesman asshole, but now his face and beard were splattered with blood.
“I need to borrow your PHONE!” The man yelled in an unhinged sing-song tone, his fake nice had been replaced with a manic and insane tone matching the crazed look In his eye. BOOM! He kicked the door hard, shaking the door but it held strong. I ran to the kitchen to grab my own knife. Sarah was already holding one. BOOM! There was another kick. We stood there, terrified, and not knowing what to do. I braced for another boom, but there wasn’t one. It was silent.
“You go upstairs,” I told Sarah decisively, “I’ll stay down here just in case.” I had come out here willing and prepared to meet death, Sarah didn’t deserve that though. I had only just met her, but I felt a genuine desire to protect her, and if this is how I went, at least my death had meaning now. I was fine with death, but if he came in I could at least try to take him with me.
Sarah nodded, her eyes wide and shocked, and she headed up the stairs. Just as she crossed the final step, the window of the sliding glass back door exploded as a large rock blasted through. I ducked instinctively as shards of glass rained down on me and looked back up to see the man climbing in through the large broken window, smiling with an expression of adrenalized mania. I grabbed an ugly vase off the nearby end table and threw it at him, grunting with every ounce of strength I could summon. It missed terribly to his left, shattering on the cabinet to his right.
With the knife still in my hand, I picked up a wooden chair and charged at him with bravery and confidence I had never felt before. The chair legs hit him square in the chest and face catching him off guard, but it felt like hitting a brick wall. The recoil of the collision pushed the chair back into my chin and we both were knocked to the ground.
I looked over to see him already getting up, but within distance so I slashed at him with my knife, aiming for the neck. I missed again, but still slashed through his face sending a splatter of blood, but he barely flinched. He immediately slashed right back at me, putting a deep cut into my upper chest. I rolled backward, struggling in a panicked frenzy trying to get to my feet.
Before I was up to my feet, the chair hit me hard in my face and knocked me back to the ground. I staggered back up to my feet despite the black spots from the hit to my head, noting the taste of blood in my mouth while the knife slashed past my throat, narrowly missing me. I started punching and slashing wildly in a frenzy, overcome with an unfamiliar rage that perhaps had been waiting for years to be freed. I admit that I don’t know how to fight, I’d honestly never needed to before, but something was working. I connected at least once more with the knife slicing a fresh wound on his shoulder. He was backing up and then, naturally, I tripped.
My knife clattered on the hardwood floor, I rose to my knees reaching for the knife but was knocked down from a hard kick to my side. Every last molecule of oxygen in my lungs was expelled from my body with a disgusting grunt. I tried to breathe and regain myself but only found an excruciating sharp pain in my ribs from where I was kicked. The man stood over me, a triumphant sneer on his face, ready to bring the knife down on me. Suddenly, I didn’t want to die anymore.
As the man started to bring the knife down, a chair crashed into his upper back and his head splintering with impact. He cried out in fury as the knife fell from his hand and he fell to his knees while I rolled away to lengthen the distance. I saw Sarah’s wide-eyed face looking down from over the loft banister, she had thrown the chair that had kept me from getting stabbed right there on the floor. It was the chair I had been standing on when Sarah arrived.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The man yelled out, already back on his feet and armed. He started running to the stairs with his knife hand. Sarah was screaming as he seemed to forget about me and set his predatory sight on her. Her screams sparked a new sense of urgent adrenaline and I found myself picking up my knife and running after him despite the pain.
Sarah was backed into a corner holding her large kitchen knife in front of her in both fear and bold defiance, while the intruder looked for his opportunity to make his move. He slashed at her, missing short but causing her to flinch badly. Before he could take a follow-up shot, I slammed the knife square into his upper back. The blade penetrated the right of his spine with a dull sound accompanied by a horrific crack that must have been a rib giving way.
The man collapsed to his knees while I pushed into the handle of the knife trying to drive it deeper. He let out a roar of pure rage and pushed back against me. I tried to drive him to the ground but he was stronger than I, even with the knife in his back, and was able to struggle to his feet.
While this was happening, I saw Sarah running through the door with my rope. Instantly, I understood her plan. I wrapped my arms around his waist and arms, clasping my hands in front to trap his arms at his sides. I squeezed as tight as I possibly could as Sarah slipped the noose over his head. He was fighting violently now, and I struggled to restrain him. I held on as tight as I could, but the grip of my hands was starting to slip. Sarah was hurriedly tying the other end of the rope to the banister with shaky hands.
With a sudden burst of strength, my grip failed and the killer broke his arms free and lunged at Sarah. I charged at him, putting my shoulder into his side like a regular rugby player, pushing him toward the banister. Sarah jumped into the fight as well, throwing her weight into him. Together, we put all the remaining energy we had into one final push, knocking the killer over the banister and off the loft.
The rope caught. With an audible CRACK, his fall was broken, as was his neck. Both of our knots had held. The body swayed gently over the living room suspended by a noose tied to the banister. My noose.
Sarah and I sat outside, waiting for the police to arrive. We’d walked out there, or rather she awkwardly helped me. After the moment was done, all of the physical pain came crashing into me at once. She was holding a bathroom towel over the deep cut in my chest, which was bleeding profusely and soaking my once white shirt in crimson.
As the cool mountainous air started bringing my body temperature to a reasonable level, she broke the awkward silence addressing the elephant in the room. The elephant being the noose that had been hanging in the bedroom. “Were you going to…?”.
“Yes,” I admitted, looking down at my knees. I didn’t need her to finish the question, I knew what she meant.
Sarah gently grasped my chin and pulled it up. “Please don’t,” she told me, looking into my eyes. I once again saw in her teary eyes just how beautiful she was. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
“I won’t,” I promised, surprised to hear the words from my lips with tears now finding their way down my face, and I meant it.
That was just over 18 months ago now, and I’m happy to tell you that I’m still here, but this story isn’t just the story of how I didn’t kill myself, but also the story of how I met the love of my life, how we were bonded through mutually assured survival. We saved each other, but she saved me in more ways than one
We are celebrating our honeymoon now, at a beautiful beach house overlooking the ocean. We chose a location as far from the woods as possible. We are still healing, but we are healing together. Sarah is healing from the trauma of her best friend, Jessica, being murdered. I am healing from years of personal neglect and self-destructive behavior. I didn’t realize how broken I truly was until I met Sarah, and you can’t fix what you don't acknowledge to be broken.
As I sit here now, under the most beautiful sunset I have seen since that fateful day, I finally realize what was missing in my life. What was missing was not just the feeling of being loved, but having somebody to love.
submitted by NarratorHub to NarratorHub [link] [comments]
I felt completely at peace about it. This time, I was truly ready to die. I felt the scratchy fiber around my neck after slipping the rope over my head. “The forever necklace,” I thought in a dark little joke just for myself. The rope was tied to a metal loop that was drilled into the ceiling truss to be sure that I would not fail. I had never been so determined to accomplish anything in my life the way I was today.
The old wooden chair I stood on creaked and groaned a mournful protest as I lifted my foot, ready to step off the chair. One deep breath, and I could let it all go.
Then, someone knocked on the door.
I froze in exactly that position, one foot on the chair and one foot off, wondering with a sudden twinge of anger who the hell could be knocking on the door. I spent every last dollar I had to rent this remote cabin where I could spend my last weekend in beauty and peace. The intrusive sound boomed again through the empty house, obliterating my illusion of peace.
I slipped the rope back off my neck with irritation and watched it swing back and forth. “Don’t go anywhere now, we’re not done,” I told the rope, before stepping off the chair and heading down the stairs ready to berate the inconsiderate person who ruined my nearly perfect moment.
After squinting through the peephole of the solid wood door, I could see a gangly man wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up tightly over his head. A sharp black beard with speckled gray poked through the hood, and I could see a pointed pale nose, but otherwise, his features were largely hidden. The man was looking down but swayed side to side on his feet impatiently, sending another spark of irritation through my clenched jaw. He knocked again, louder this time.
I pulled the squeaky cabin door open against my better judgment, but he didn’t seem to be leaving on his own and my sudden anger took control of my arm, which reached forward and pulled the door open. “What do you want?” I asked rudely, not even considering the normal pleasantries.
“Good evening, sir,” The stranger said, a little too nicely. As he lifted his head I could see that he had black combed hair matching his fairly well-groomed beard, a bit of gray mixing in with the dark black. A little dash of salt in the pepper, if you will. “My car broke down about a mile down that dirt road and I was wondering if I could use your phone?” The man felt like a used car salesman with his fake, almost painted-on smile and voice that sounded rehearsed.
“I don’t have a phone,” I told him coldly. It was a lie, of course. While my cell had no service, there was a functioning wall-mounted phone in the kitchen. The older type, with a coiled cord connecting it to the wall mount.
“Oh I’m sure you have a phone, all the cabins up here do.” He told me with his wide, aggravating smile.
“Not this one,” I told him shortly, ending the conversation and wanting him gone. I started shutting the door when he stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing me from shutting the door all of the way.
“It’ll only take me 30 seconds then I’ll be gone.”
Anger spiked in me when he blocked my door with his foot, and I thought about slamming his foot with the door. Instead, and without even giving him a response, I pushed him away from the door and slammed it shut. I heard the click of the deadbolt before I even knew I was locking it.
I stood there for a minute, bewildered by the event. A twinge of guilt struck my gut, I felt maybe I should have helped him. The timing was poor, sure, but how was he supposed to know my “grand plans”? But at the same time, why should I help the guy anyway? Nobody had ever lent me a helping hand when I needed it. That’s just how this cruel world works, nobody gives a shit. And who puts their foot in someone's door?
After staring at the door for some time, maybe a minute, maybe 15, I walked back upstairs and peered out through the window to make sure I was alone. He was gone, but I hadn’t seen him leave. A strange uneasiness crept over me. Things weren't going how they were supposed to.
I checked all the windows, looking for the weirdo. Nothing. So I made some quick tea, one last cup of tea sounded nice, and pushed the strange encounter out of my mind. It was time to find my peace again. I realized that the sun was now starting to set over the nearby mountain peaks. Why not watch it? This would be my last sunset, and It sure was a stunning one.
I pulled a cozy recliner chair to the large upstairs window. Brilliant colors of orange and pink now filled the sky. The clouds were broken up, creating the appearance of a large beautiful pathway over the horizon.
It struck me that, there it was, my beautiful pathway to the afterlife had presented itself, and it was time. It was time to take the path laid before me. I thought that maybe this was a sign, a sign that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. I realized I was standing back on the chair but didn't remember deciding to get back up there. I once again placed the rope over my neck, already positioned so that I was facing the sunset. At that moment, I was completely at peace with my death. I started to take that step, and then….
There was knocking at the door.
This wasn’t the customary 3 or 4 knocks followed by waiting that had invaded my peace before, this was loud panicked knocking that startled me so badly that I almost fell off the chair. It seems ironic, that I was about to willingly step off the chair but the next moment I was fighting for balance to not fall.
The loud knocking continued. Once again, my beautiful peaceful moment had been shattered. I removed the rope and went over to the opposite window to see who the hell had screwed everything up. This time, it was not the hooded weirdo standing at the door, It was a girl. She had long dark hair and appeared to be about my age, maybe a little younger, and she was terrified, crying, and panicked, knocking repeatedly and taking constant looks back over her shoulder.
This time I wasn’t overcome with anger, but a deep concern as I ran down the stairs to the door. As I approached the door, I could hear her pleading for help, still pounding on the door. The second I opened the door she pushed herself in, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
“Wh-“ I started asking, but before I could finish my question she slammed into me so unexpectedly I let out an “oof,” but to my surprise, she pulled me into a tight embrace. Never in my life had I felt anybody hug me as tightly as this crying girl was squeezing me right now. I hugged her back, squeezing her just as tight.
“Wha- what’s wrong?” I asked her with genuine concern as I blew her hair out of my face. She pulled back and looked me in the eye. I couldn’t help but notice that, even through her tears and fear-stricken face, she was absolutely beautiful. Her long dark hair complemented those beautiful green eyes in a perfect sort of way that reminded me of the sunset. They were a shade of green that I had never before seen, almost as if it was a new color that had not been discovered until this girl was born. For a moment, I lost myself in her eyes before the exasperating reality slapped me back to the situation at hand.
“He killed her, he killed Jess.”
Confusion quickly turned to a pit deep in my stomach at what she said. “What? Who? Who’s Jess?” I asked her, still holding her tightly.
He- he came to the door,” She started, barely getting the words out through her sobs and deep breaths. “He asked to use the phone so I let him in. But he had a knife and…. and…” The girl burst into uncontrollable sobs and buried her face in my shoulder. She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to, the truth of the situation crashed down on me. The same guy who knocked on my door earlier had visited another cabin, and this woman had watched her friend to stabbed to death.
I wanted to panic the same way she was, but knew with certainty that she needed me to stay calm, or at least seem calm. I quickly walked her into the kitchen, grabbed the phone with hands so shaky I nearly dropped it and dialed 911.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Yeah uh…. My name is Dean Johansen, there’s been a Murder.” It felt weird to say, and a weird fear struck me that maybe the voice on the phone wouldn’t believe me.
“What’s your address, sir?” The quick, professional voice responded.
I gave her the address of the cabin I was staying at, thankfully it was on a card by the landline phone. I asked the girl for the address where the murder happened. She didn’t know, but she managed to tell the operator that her name was Sarah and the victim's name as well as a description of the killer.
“Okay Sir, please lock the doors and stay inside, emergency responders will be there in about 30 minutes.” The phone lady told me in a matter-of-fact tone as if this was a normal Tuesday call to IT.
“30 minutes? What do you mean 30 minutes?” I asked with deep exasperation. “There’s a MURDERER on the loose!”
“I’m sorry sir, that’s the closest law enforcement to you, you’re in a remote area.” In those last words, I could finally hear a tone of emotion, a sadness that she couldn’t help.
Before I could respond, there was a loud knock on the door making us both jump. Sarah cried out loudly and I dropped the phone. I signaled to her with a single finger placed over my lips knowing full well that whoever was at the door would have already heard her cry out, and quietly, I walked to the door and nervously looked through the peephole. My heart slammed into my gut at the sight of the man who stood on the porch. It was him, the hooded car salesman asshole, but now his face and beard were splattered with blood.
“I need to borrow your PHONE!” The man yelled in an unhinged sing-song tone, his fake nice had been replaced with a manic and insane tone matching the crazed look In his eye. BOOM! He kicked the door hard, shaking the door but it held strong. I ran to the kitchen to grab my own knife. Sarah was already holding one. BOOM! There was another kick. We stood there, terrified, and not knowing what to do. I braced for another boom, but there wasn’t one. It was silent.
“You go upstairs,” I told Sarah decisively, “I’ll stay down here just in case.” I had come out here willing and prepared to meet death, Sarah didn’t deserve that though. I had only just met her, but I felt a genuine desire to protect her, and if this is how I went, at least my death had meaning now. I was fine with death, but if he came in I could at least try to take him with me.
Sarah nodded, her eyes wide and shocked, and she headed up the stairs. Just as she crossed the final step, the window of the sliding glass back door exploded as a large rock blasted through. I ducked instinctively as shards of glass rained down on me and looked back up to see the man climbing in through the large broken window, smiling with an expression of adrenalized mania. I grabbed an ugly vase off the nearby end table and threw it at him, grunting with every ounce of strength I could summon. It missed terribly to his left, shattering on the cabinet to his right.
With the knife still in my hand, I picked up a wooden chair and charged at him with bravery and confidence I had never felt before. The chair legs hit him square in the chest and face catching him off guard, but it felt like hitting a brick wall. The recoil of the collision pushed the chair back into my chin and we both were knocked to the ground.
I looked over to see him already getting up, but within distance so I slashed at him with my knife, aiming for the neck. I missed again, but still slashed through his face sending a splatter of blood, but he barely flinched. He immediately slashed right back at me, putting a deep cut into my upper chest. I rolled backward, struggling in a panicked frenzy trying to get to my feet.
Before I was up to my feet, the chair hit me hard in my face and knocked me back to the ground. I staggered back up to my feet despite the black spots from the hit to my head, noting the taste of blood in my mouth while the knife slashed past my throat, narrowly missing me. I started punching and slashing wildly in a frenzy, overcome with an unfamiliar rage that perhaps had been waiting for years to be freed. I admit that I don’t know how to fight, I’d honestly never needed to before, but something was working. I connected at least once more with the knife slicing a fresh wound on his shoulder. He was backing up and then, naturally, I tripped.
My knife clattered on the hardwood floor, I rose to my knees reaching for the knife but was knocked down from a hard kick to my side. Every last molecule of oxygen in my lungs was expelled from my body with a disgusting grunt. I tried to breathe and regain myself but only found an excruciating sharp pain in my ribs from where I was kicked. The man stood over me, a triumphant sneer on his face, ready to bring the knife down on me. Suddenly, I didn’t want to die anymore.
As the man started to bring the knife down, a chair crashed into his upper back and his head splintering with impact. He cried out in fury as the knife fell from his hand and he fell to his knees while I rolled away to lengthen the distance. I saw Sarah’s wide-eyed face looking down from over the loft banister, she had thrown the chair that had kept me from getting stabbed right there on the floor. It was the chair I had been standing on when Sarah arrived.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The man yelled out, already back on his feet and armed. He started running to the stairs with his knife hand. Sarah was screaming as he seemed to forget about me and set his predatory sight on her. Her screams sparked a new sense of urgent adrenaline and I found myself picking up my knife and running after him despite the pain.
Sarah was backed into a corner holding her large kitchen knife in front of her in both fear and bold defiance, while the intruder looked for his opportunity to make his move. He slashed at her, missing short but causing her to flinch badly. Before he could take a follow-up shot, I slammed the knife square into his upper back. The blade penetrated the right of his spine with a dull sound accompanied by a horrific crack that must have been a rib giving way.
The man collapsed to his knees while I pushed into the handle of the knife trying to drive it deeper. He let out a roar of pure rage and pushed back against me. I tried to drive him to the ground but he was stronger than I, even with the knife in his back, and was able to struggle to his feet.
While this was happening, I saw Sarah running through the door with my rope. Instantly, I understood her plan. I wrapped my arms around his waist and arms, clasping my hands in front to trap his arms at his sides. I squeezed as tight as I possibly could as Sarah slipped the noose over his head. He was fighting violently now, and I struggled to restrain him. I held on as tight as I could, but the grip of my hands was starting to slip. Sarah was hurriedly tying the other end of the rope to the banister with shaky hands.
With a sudden burst of strength, my grip failed and the killer broke his arms free and lunged at Sarah. I charged at him, putting my shoulder into his side like a regular rugby player, pushing him toward the banister. Sarah jumped into the fight as well, throwing her weight into him. Together, we put all the remaining energy we had into one final push, knocking the killer over the banister and off the loft.
The rope caught. With an audible CRACK, his fall was broken, as was his neck. Both of our knots had held. The body swayed gently over the living room suspended by a noose tied to the banister. My noose.
Sarah and I sat outside, waiting for the police to arrive. We’d walked out there, or rather she awkwardly helped me. After the moment was done, all of the physical pain came crashing into me at once. She was holding a bathroom towel over the deep cut in my chest, which was bleeding profusely and soaking my once white shirt in crimson.
As the cool mountainous air started bringing my body temperature to a reasonable level, she broke the awkward silence addressing the elephant in the room. The elephant being the noose that had been hanging in the bedroom. “Were you going to…?”.
“Yes,” I admitted, looking down at my knees. I didn’t need her to finish the question, I knew what she meant.
Sarah gently grasped my chin and pulled it up. “Please don’t,” she told me, looking into my eyes. I once again saw in her teary eyes just how beautiful she was. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
“I won’t,” I promised, surprised to hear the words from my lips with tears now finding their way down my face, and I meant it.
That was just over 18 months ago now, and I’m happy to tell you that I’m still here, but this story isn’t just the story of how I didn’t kill myself, but also the story of how I met the love of my life, how we were bonded through mutually assured survival. We saved each other, but she saved me in more ways than one
We are celebrating our honeymoon now, at a beautiful beach house overlooking the ocean. We chose a location as far from the woods as possible. We are still healing, but we are healing together. Sarah is healing from the trauma of her best friend, Jessica, being murdered. I am healing from years of personal neglect and self-destructive behavior. I didn’t realize how broken I truly was until I met Sarah, and you can’t fix what you don't acknowledge to be broken.
As I sit here now, under the most beautiful sunset I have seen since that fateful day, I finally realize what was missing in my life. What was missing was not just the feeling of being loved, but having somebody to love.
2024.06.06 22:58 EnvironmentalEnd5049 Crabroach u dummy
This thang so unorganized jumping from the floor that's not finished to buying beds now today building a porch and flower bed omg u wasting money gurl finish the floors first if I had to drive to Memphis I would find the flooring do all floors first but that's to sensible for you common sense tell u to buy all flooring for room at one time just in case they run out but with u common sense ain't common your judgment is why you're a begging mother of 5 and never been married just sad but beg on dummy!!!!
submitted by EnvironmentalEnd5049 to MAMACOMEDIANRAPPER [link] [comments]
2024.06.06 21:18 brown_dog_anonymous How do I attach these half pergola beams?
 | I'm in the middle of building this half pergola thing my wife wanted around our new concrete firepit. I've got my 6x6's plumb and set, we set them in concrete because she wants to hang a porch swing on it and I wanted to be sure it could withstand the rocking motion. submitted by brown_dog_anonymous to Carpentry [link] [comments] My plan is to use 2x10's as beams and notch the top of the 6x6's to attach the beams using adequate length 5/16" GRK SRS fasteners. In between the front and back beams I plan to use either 6x6 chunks as blocking (more GRKs holding those in place) or a 4x6. Either way, strong enough to drill through and run a through eye bolt for the swing. My question becomes what is my best way to notch the top of the 6x6s for the beams? See pictures below for either Option A or Option B. The arrows in the photos are examples of screws running inwards. Option A creates more of a lip for the 2x10 beams to sit on, but makes a very small pier at the top of the 6x6s for the GRKs to bite into. My concern is that it could weaken and snap off the little "pier" of 6x6 sticking up after notching. Option B still creates a lip but not as much, and it creates a larger "pier" at the top of the 6x6s for the GRKS to bite into. If there's a better way to do this, or if lags would be better than GRKs (or through bolts with washers and nuts) let me know, I'm open to feedback! Another Question is how in the hell do I make that inset angle cut in my first picture? I can use a circ saw to make a straight cut, then a reciprocating saw to cut down the full 10". But from there, what's the best way to make that angled cut inward? Thanks! Front view of the post, as I'm trying to determine also how to make this angled cut. More of a lip for the 2x10s to sit on, but really reduces the center of the 6x6 where the GRKs will bite in. Arrows are indicative of GRK screws. Less of a lip for the 2x10s to sit on, and creates a slightly larger center section of the 6x6 to run GRKs through. Arrows are indicative of GRK screws. Overview of the current mess from our deck. |
2024.06.06 20:17 Leather_Doughnut_176 That Time We Met The Hat Man
So i know shadow people have been spoken about ad nauseum on here but id like to share my experience and theories. Id also like to hear from anyone who's had similar experiences.
Growing up, i was always told that we see things out of the corner of our eyes and to ignore it because its just our minds playing tricks on us. While, i agree that our brains do filter out a lot of audio/visual data while also just making things up, i also believe we sometimes catch a glimpse of things we cant define with conventional terms of science.
Ive always been interested in the paranormal but never had any real experiences until i was in my mid teens. My parents divorced and my mom moved my sisters and i to florida to be closer to her family. We were staying with my uncle until the place we were renting down the street from him was livable. He, his wife and their two kids had only moved in about two months prior (this wouldve been about June of 2007).
We lived there for a couple of months but since it was literally down the street from me, id be over there all the time. My oldest sister actually lived there, instead of with my mom and i. We were all pretty close.
I dont know exactly when it started but i remember regularly seeing short, childlike shadow people ducking around corners whenever you tried to look directly at them. I didnt think much about it until other people mentioned the same thing. Adults were talking about it. My cousins talked about it. My aunt claimed she watched picture frames fall over on their own. But we didnt think much beyond "This house is haunted". It was more like a joke, though.
I'd say, it was in early September of that year was when the activity started moving beyond "basic" shadow people.
My older sister and i were in the living room, where the family desktop PC was. She was sitting in the computer chair, showing me funny videos online. We were both completely sober, by the way. Anyway, I was looking over her shoulder. From our vantage, we could see out of the living room, through most of the dining room and part of the kitchen, which has a backdoor entrance and windows that look out to the back porch area.
My sister and i were the only two people in the house at the time. It was about 7-8pm and everybody else was out. I dont remember where they went but we stayed back. So, im watching over her shoulder as she plays one random clip after another, when i notice i tall figure in my peripheral to my right. It looks like somebody is standing in the kitchen. I register all of this in less than a second and look over at the kitchen. My sister turns her head to the right at the same time i do. Not as a reaction to me, im behind her. She turned in unison with me. What i turned to see was a dark black figure with no discernable facial features, wearing what looked like a tall hat with a wide brim, and a trenchcoat. But it looked like the silhouette of a man wearing all of that. When i turned and looked at it directly, it turned slightly to its right and stepped out of sight, behind the refrigerator.
I was terrified. I felt my heart sink in my chest and the air leave my lungs. The hair on my whole body was standing up. I turn to my sister and ask "Did you just see that?" She looked at me with a worried face and said "Yeah".
I hadnt told her what i had seen. Instead, i asked her what she just saw. She described seeing a tall shadow with a hat and trench coat duck into the kitchen. She also had goosebumps all over her. Now i was scared shitless.
She was too afraid to move. So, i carefully crept over to get a view into the kitchen. What i saw was an empty kitchen. I checked the back door and it was secure. The windows were all locked and closed because it was Florida in September and the A/C was on. I personally checked the whole house. There was no way for anyone to get by us without either passing by us or going out the back door and this figure went the opposite direction of the backdoor.
My sister called my uncle and he said to make sure the doors were locked. He didnt take it too seriously. Why would he? We were 14 and 17 year old kids. I wouldnt have taken it seriously if i was the only one who saw it. I have to mention that none of us had ever heard of the infamous "Hat Man" at this point. Also, this happened at night but right after nightfall and we were in completely woken states, no sleep deprivation, no drugs, the house was very well lit in both rooms and we saw it do the same thing at the same time. I had no idea that i would not only see that figure again multiple times in my life but also meet several others who have seen the hat man figure at some point in their lives.
Things at my uncles house continued to get weird for those living there. My uncle was a night owl and said he would hear footsteps in the house and find that everyone was in their rooms. But about a month after i saw the figure in the kitchen, i was over there hanging with my uncle. Once again, nobody else was home. We went out on the back porch and talked while he had a cigarette. We sat on this wooden picnic table and faced the window that looked into the kitchen and offered a view of the dining room and a sliver of the living room. I was in the middle of talking when my uncle jumped up and shouted "What the fuck was that?!?!" And frantically looked through the window.
I looked but i didnt see anything. Most of the lights were off and the house was kinda dark. So, i asked him what he saw. "It looked like a bird just flew through the fuckin' house".
We went inside to investigate, turning on all the lights and checking rooms. I didnt see any creatures but one thing stuck out. They kept a rubber bat that hung on a sting from the arch devider between the dining room the living room. This rubber bat was swinging wildly when we walked in. Id observed the bat slightly sway or spin in the past. Nothing paranormal. This time was different. I tried to recreate the circumstances required for the bat to swing as wildly as it had and the only thing the replicated the movement was forcibly hitting the bat. Even bumping into it wasnt enough. Force was needed.
Once again. Only people home. We searched the house in every nook and cranny. Nothing. I asked him if he was pranking me and he got kinda mad at me. When i asked him again what he saw, he described a black ball, about the size of a basketball, fly into the living room.
I didnt see any flying shadows or anything but the bat decoration was easy to dismiss. Plus, the small shadow people soghtings persisted.
The icing on the cake for my uncle was being woken up in the middle of the night and seeing a seeing his wall glowing reddish orange. He immediately thought it was an electrical fire and jumped out of bed, waking his wife. He felt the wall and found no warmth. He went to the other side of the wall (my sister's bedroom) and woke her up to check the wall. There was nothing on that side at all. My uncle returned to find the flowing spot on the wallbin his room began fading. His wife claimed she saw it as well.
My uncle asked his father, a priest, to bless his home and see if they can get rid of whatever was in there. My grandfather came out the following evening and as a family we followed hom through the house as he prayed, spread holy water and marked the doorways with holy oil.
Interesting, the strange things stopped happening after that. Nobody reported anything weird or creepy for the rest of the time they lived there.
My grandfather, the priest, would die a few years later of cancer, leaving behind a wife, 3 children and 10 grandchildren. That however, wasnt the end of my experience with the paranormal. Sometimes i wonder if my grandfather's work as a priest left some of us with a higher sensitivity to the paranormal. If thats the case, "Im tired of this, Grampa!"
submitted by Leather_Doughnut_176 to Paranormal [link] [comments]
Growing up, i was always told that we see things out of the corner of our eyes and to ignore it because its just our minds playing tricks on us. While, i agree that our brains do filter out a lot of audio/visual data while also just making things up, i also believe we sometimes catch a glimpse of things we cant define with conventional terms of science.
Ive always been interested in the paranormal but never had any real experiences until i was in my mid teens. My parents divorced and my mom moved my sisters and i to florida to be closer to her family. We were staying with my uncle until the place we were renting down the street from him was livable. He, his wife and their two kids had only moved in about two months prior (this wouldve been about June of 2007).
We lived there for a couple of months but since it was literally down the street from me, id be over there all the time. My oldest sister actually lived there, instead of with my mom and i. We were all pretty close.
I dont know exactly when it started but i remember regularly seeing short, childlike shadow people ducking around corners whenever you tried to look directly at them. I didnt think much about it until other people mentioned the same thing. Adults were talking about it. My cousins talked about it. My aunt claimed she watched picture frames fall over on their own. But we didnt think much beyond "This house is haunted". It was more like a joke, though.
I'd say, it was in early September of that year was when the activity started moving beyond "basic" shadow people.
My older sister and i were in the living room, where the family desktop PC was. She was sitting in the computer chair, showing me funny videos online. We were both completely sober, by the way. Anyway, I was looking over her shoulder. From our vantage, we could see out of the living room, through most of the dining room and part of the kitchen, which has a backdoor entrance and windows that look out to the back porch area.
My sister and i were the only two people in the house at the time. It was about 7-8pm and everybody else was out. I dont remember where they went but we stayed back. So, im watching over her shoulder as she plays one random clip after another, when i notice i tall figure in my peripheral to my right. It looks like somebody is standing in the kitchen. I register all of this in less than a second and look over at the kitchen. My sister turns her head to the right at the same time i do. Not as a reaction to me, im behind her. She turned in unison with me. What i turned to see was a dark black figure with no discernable facial features, wearing what looked like a tall hat with a wide brim, and a trenchcoat. But it looked like the silhouette of a man wearing all of that. When i turned and looked at it directly, it turned slightly to its right and stepped out of sight, behind the refrigerator.
I was terrified. I felt my heart sink in my chest and the air leave my lungs. The hair on my whole body was standing up. I turn to my sister and ask "Did you just see that?" She looked at me with a worried face and said "Yeah".
I hadnt told her what i had seen. Instead, i asked her what she just saw. She described seeing a tall shadow with a hat and trench coat duck into the kitchen. She also had goosebumps all over her. Now i was scared shitless.
She was too afraid to move. So, i carefully crept over to get a view into the kitchen. What i saw was an empty kitchen. I checked the back door and it was secure. The windows were all locked and closed because it was Florida in September and the A/C was on. I personally checked the whole house. There was no way for anyone to get by us without either passing by us or going out the back door and this figure went the opposite direction of the backdoor.
My sister called my uncle and he said to make sure the doors were locked. He didnt take it too seriously. Why would he? We were 14 and 17 year old kids. I wouldnt have taken it seriously if i was the only one who saw it. I have to mention that none of us had ever heard of the infamous "Hat Man" at this point. Also, this happened at night but right after nightfall and we were in completely woken states, no sleep deprivation, no drugs, the house was very well lit in both rooms and we saw it do the same thing at the same time. I had no idea that i would not only see that figure again multiple times in my life but also meet several others who have seen the hat man figure at some point in their lives.
Things at my uncles house continued to get weird for those living there. My uncle was a night owl and said he would hear footsteps in the house and find that everyone was in their rooms. But about a month after i saw the figure in the kitchen, i was over there hanging with my uncle. Once again, nobody else was home. We went out on the back porch and talked while he had a cigarette. We sat on this wooden picnic table and faced the window that looked into the kitchen and offered a view of the dining room and a sliver of the living room. I was in the middle of talking when my uncle jumped up and shouted "What the fuck was that?!?!" And frantically looked through the window.
I looked but i didnt see anything. Most of the lights were off and the house was kinda dark. So, i asked him what he saw. "It looked like a bird just flew through the fuckin' house".
We went inside to investigate, turning on all the lights and checking rooms. I didnt see any creatures but one thing stuck out. They kept a rubber bat that hung on a sting from the arch devider between the dining room the living room. This rubber bat was swinging wildly when we walked in. Id observed the bat slightly sway or spin in the past. Nothing paranormal. This time was different. I tried to recreate the circumstances required for the bat to swing as wildly as it had and the only thing the replicated the movement was forcibly hitting the bat. Even bumping into it wasnt enough. Force was needed.
Once again. Only people home. We searched the house in every nook and cranny. Nothing. I asked him if he was pranking me and he got kinda mad at me. When i asked him again what he saw, he described a black ball, about the size of a basketball, fly into the living room.
I didnt see any flying shadows or anything but the bat decoration was easy to dismiss. Plus, the small shadow people soghtings persisted.
The icing on the cake for my uncle was being woken up in the middle of the night and seeing a seeing his wall glowing reddish orange. He immediately thought it was an electrical fire and jumped out of bed, waking his wife. He felt the wall and found no warmth. He went to the other side of the wall (my sister's bedroom) and woke her up to check the wall. There was nothing on that side at all. My uncle returned to find the flowing spot on the wallbin his room began fading. His wife claimed she saw it as well.
My uncle asked his father, a priest, to bless his home and see if they can get rid of whatever was in there. My grandfather came out the following evening and as a family we followed hom through the house as he prayed, spread holy water and marked the doorways with holy oil.
Interesting, the strange things stopped happening after that. Nobody reported anything weird or creepy for the rest of the time they lived there.
My grandfather, the priest, would die a few years later of cancer, leaving behind a wife, 3 children and 10 grandchildren. That however, wasnt the end of my experience with the paranormal. Sometimes i wonder if my grandfather's work as a priest left some of us with a higher sensitivity to the paranormal. If thats the case, "Im tired of this, Grampa!"
2024.06.06 20:08 ttekcorc Where does everyone get their real time L2's these days?
It's been years since I played in day trading mostly now I just do some occasional swing trades. Back in the day I used to have a subscription for real time L2's I can't even remember from who (was before reddit existed).
In this day of everything is free, are there now free L2 services or are they still subscription only?
Can anyone point me in the right direction?
.......................
ignore this the sub has a 500 char requirement for a post...
Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged.
submitted by ttekcorc to StockMarket [link] [comments]
In this day of everything is free, are there now free L2 services or are they still subscription only?
Can anyone point me in the right direction?
.......................
ignore this the sub has a 500 char requirement for a post...
Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged.
2024.06.06 18:03 zenpathfinder [WTS] [WTT] Simply awesome silver sale! - Buy or trade for ASE
THANKS ALL FOR HELPING ME AND MY DAUGHTER GET HER A CAR IN THAT LAST SALE. Have a look at what you all helped me get her - https://imgur.com/ew2L4RP :)
I am not gonna give my password to anyone ever!! 2FA IS ENABLED!! I hope you all do the same.
For this sale I am very open to trades for ASE!
PROOF & ALBUM - https://imgur.com/a/yyQGg3c
Offers accepted on multiple items.
More pics available via chat. Just ask.
BIN it and Win it. First to BIN gets it. Otherwise I decide the order in which I respond to chats.
/--------------------------
SUPER DUPER SILVER - trade it all for ASE or buy it outright :)
1x - 3.52oz Crazy Train Bullion Kit-Kat, amazing piece by an amazing artist who has since passed away - https://imgur.com/B54k1G7 - $195
1x - 100g Hand Pourd Kit-Kat bar with amazing pour lines and toning - https://imgur.com/ZwWYSdl - $175
1x - 3oz Monarch Precious Metals Skull pour. They don't make 'em in this size any more - https://imgur.com/EP1cIVh - $99
SOLD1x - 20oz (20 bars) Lot, neat stuff from 1970s, Babe Ruth, Einstein, MLK JR, South East Refining, Stage Coach Silver divisible bar, Labor Day 1973, Fathers Day 1973, US Strategic Stockpile, Sheet of 8 Factory Sealed 1oz Stagecoach Silver Divisible SOLD
this lot above got split up and a few pieces remain for sale singularly now. https://imgur.com/ATluP1j
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Martin Luther King - $36
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Babe Ruth - $36
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Labor Day 1973 - $35
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Fathers Day Owl 1973 - $35
1x - 1oz GlassPanther Shut up and take my money pocket piece - https://imgur.com/TlQ1XIZ - $40
1x - 5oz Barbarian w/ Flail poured bar - https://imgur.com/aof1wHo - $175
1x - 10oz Scottsdale Archangel Michael Bar in original package - https://imgur.com/sX672sr - $365
/--------------------------
LUNAR SKULL SILVER ROUNDS
https://imgur.com/drjZiTt
https://imgur.com/YPjwHnQ
The Lunar Skulls below are very low mintage and have absolutely stupid comp prices (mine are about half price). The proof coins are limited to 500 and the burnished are limited to 2000. Amazingly cool artwork and if you collect the lunar series stuff, you will love this really cool twist on the subject.
Any blemishes are on the capsules, the coins are very BU. Happy to send more pics if needed.
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $55
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $55
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $55
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $55
1x - 2015 Year of the Goat Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Ghana - $55
BIN ALL 5 Lunar Skulls for $250 shipped
/--------------------------
GOLD JEWELRY
1x - 2g 14K Feather Pendant - SOLD
1x - 1g - Rose with Ruby Pendant - SOLD
/--------------------------
PAYMENT - Zelle or Venmo (NO NOTES), Paypal F&F, fiat cash, checks, money orders. Checks and Money orders need to fully clear first before I ship anything.
SHIPPING - $5-9. Insurance at your request, charged at cost. I pack and ship like I like to receive it. Nicely secured, padded, and no jingling. I hand deliver to post office for scanning and will provide tracking.
RESPONSIBILITY - It ends when the package shows delivered in tracking. If you have a problem with porch pirates I recommend signature confirmation, which I can provide at cost. All items verified on a Sigma at my LCS. I stand behind what I sell 100%.
SECURITY - All my proof pictures will contain my ZENPATHFINDER silver round name badge that u/UnresolvedEgo made. I love it. You should consider a name badge of your own if you sell. I am no dummy and any "mod" that says I am banned and they need my password to see my chats gets a nice teabagging pic and is reported. I will always use my custom name tag to provide proof via chat, just ask. I have 2FA on my account.
submitted by zenpathfinder to Pmsforsale [link] [comments]
I am not gonna give my password to anyone ever!! 2FA IS ENABLED!! I hope you all do the same.
For this sale I am very open to trades for ASE!
PROOF & ALBUM - https://imgur.com/a/yyQGg3c
Offers accepted on multiple items.
More pics available via chat. Just ask.
BIN it and Win it. First to BIN gets it. Otherwise I decide the order in which I respond to chats.
/--------------------------
SUPER DUPER SILVER - trade it all for ASE or buy it outright :)
1x - 3.52oz Crazy Train Bullion Kit-Kat, amazing piece by an amazing artist who has since passed away - https://imgur.com/B54k1G7 - $195
1x - 100g Hand Pourd Kit-Kat bar with amazing pour lines and toning - https://imgur.com/ZwWYSdl - $175
1x - 3oz Monarch Precious Metals Skull pour. They don't make 'em in this size any more - https://imgur.com/EP1cIVh - $99
SOLD
this lot above got split up and a few pieces remain for sale singularly now. https://imgur.com/ATluP1j
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Martin Luther King - $36
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Babe Ruth - $36
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Labor Day 1973 - $35
1x - 1oz Silver Bar - Fathers Day Owl 1973 - $35
1x - 5oz Barbarian w/ Flail poured bar - https://imgur.com/aof1wHo - $175
1x - 10oz Scottsdale Archangel Michael Bar in original package - https://imgur.com/sX672sr - $365
/--------------------------
LUNAR SKULL SILVER ROUNDS
https://imgur.com/drjZiTt
https://imgur.com/YPjwHnQ
The Lunar Skulls below are very low mintage and have absolutely stupid comp prices (mine are about half price). The proof coins are limited to 500 and the burnished are limited to 2000. Amazingly cool artwork and if you collect the lunar series stuff, you will love this really cool twist on the subject.
Any blemishes are on the capsules, the coins are very BU. Happy to send more pics if needed.
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $55
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $55
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $55
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $55
1x - 2015 Year of the Goat Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Ghana - $55
BIN ALL 5 Lunar Skulls for $250 shipped
/--------------------------
GOLD JEWELRY
1x - 2g 14K Feather Pendant - SOLD
1x - 1g - Rose with Ruby Pendant - SOLD
/--------------------------
PAYMENT - Zelle or Venmo (NO NOTES), Paypal F&F, fiat cash, checks, money orders. Checks and Money orders need to fully clear first before I ship anything.
SHIPPING - $5-9. Insurance at your request, charged at cost. I pack and ship like I like to receive it. Nicely secured, padded, and no jingling. I hand deliver to post office for scanning and will provide tracking.
RESPONSIBILITY - It ends when the package shows delivered in tracking. If you have a problem with porch pirates I recommend signature confirmation, which I can provide at cost. All items verified on a Sigma at my LCS. I stand behind what I sell 100%.
SECURITY - All my proof pictures will contain my ZENPATHFINDER silver round name badge that u/UnresolvedEgo made. I love it. You should consider a name badge of your own if you sell. I am no dummy and any "mod" that says I am banned and they need my password to see my chats gets a nice teabagging pic and is reported. I will always use my custom name tag to provide proof via chat, just ask. I have 2FA on my account.
2024.06.06 11:20 Witty_Bake6453 Searching for a stand hammock that will swing easily
I see posts about how to minimize the swing of a hammock but I love the feel of swaying in the breeze while napping. Please suggest a hammock w stand that will allow for great sleeping and easy sway. It will be placed on a large front porch.
submitted by Witty_Bake6453 to Hammocks [link] [comments]
2024.06.06 11:18 Senior_Platypus_ 26 hours update
Longest 26 hours of my life and I’m really going through it, but I’m proud of myself! Putting this here in case it’s helpful for anyone else. And so that I can look back on it:
•Felt panicky yesterday around 4-8 hours in. Like my brain was trying to convince me that I would die without vaping. That feeling went away quite quickly, and now I have a more manageable level of anxiety
•my neck hurts, but I think that’s because I didn’t sleep well
•time is truly relative. The hours are moving so slowly.
•my lungs feel a bit better already, and the sensation of breathing deeply is so unfamiliar that it’s making me feel uncomfortable. Weird.
•The mood swings are WILD. I go from feeling like life is terrible and will never get better, to feeling really good and on top of the world. Am using meditation to deal with this and it really works
•I wouldn’t say I’m craving, it’s more a mental discomfort knowing that going to the shop and getting a vape isn’t an option. I think the craving will really kick in tomorrow when I’m out with friends and hitting the vape feels like more of an option. I won’t worry about that yet, and focus on today.
•I am crying a lot. My dad died 6 years ago and I’ve cried more about it over the last 24 hours than in the last year put together. This is good and it feels good to cry. I think I was using vaping as a crutch/dummy.
As someone with health anxiety and a constant need to feel in control, the emotional aspects of the withdrawals have been difficult. But I’m super proud of myself and generally excited to continue on the journey
submitted by Senior_Platypus_ to QuitVaping [link] [comments]
•Felt panicky yesterday around 4-8 hours in. Like my brain was trying to convince me that I would die without vaping. That feeling went away quite quickly, and now I have a more manageable level of anxiety
•my neck hurts, but I think that’s because I didn’t sleep well
•time is truly relative. The hours are moving so slowly.
•my lungs feel a bit better already, and the sensation of breathing deeply is so unfamiliar that it’s making me feel uncomfortable. Weird.
•The mood swings are WILD. I go from feeling like life is terrible and will never get better, to feeling really good and on top of the world. Am using meditation to deal with this and it really works
•I wouldn’t say I’m craving, it’s more a mental discomfort knowing that going to the shop and getting a vape isn’t an option. I think the craving will really kick in tomorrow when I’m out with friends and hitting the vape feels like more of an option. I won’t worry about that yet, and focus on today.
•I am crying a lot. My dad died 6 years ago and I’ve cried more about it over the last 24 hours than in the last year put together. This is good and it feels good to cry. I think I was using vaping as a crutch/dummy.
As someone with health anxiety and a constant need to feel in control, the emotional aspects of the withdrawals have been difficult. But I’m super proud of myself and generally excited to continue on the journey
2024.06.06 06:10 No_Warning8534 Outdoor options for cats outside
If you have catio cats outside, or a colony or a group of them...
Heat induced asthma directly and indirectly kills a lot of cats. Especially long hair, darker colors, Kittens and those with already questionable immune systems. It can kill older cats too. It just makes them miserable and exhausted. It contributes to fights etc.
This is something that's a huge hit with them and will make you feel better about them having to be outside.
It's getting hott. During the heat of the day I recommend this type of 'ac unit' for them.
Enclosed under a patio or something helps too. These are all rated for outdoor and most of them are on sale.
You can find them elsewhere, I'm just giving you guys an idea.
KEGIAN Swamp Cooler, 1800CFM Evaporative Air Cooler with 5.3-Gal Tank, 12H Timer, 120° Oscillation, 3-IN-1 Portable Evaporative Cooler, Cooling Fan for Room Office Garage Indoor Outdoor Use (31IN) https://a.co/d/1dfg8Js
ROVSUN 2300CFM Portable Air Cooler, 7.9Gal/30L Evaporative Swamp Cooler, 3-IN-1 Cooling Fan with Remote Control, 3 Speeds, 12H Timer & 4 Ice Box, Humidifying Oscillating Fan for Indoor or Outdoor
41-Inch Swamp Cooler, 3531CFM Industry Evaporative Cooler, 3 Speeds, 120° Swing, 10.6 Gal Water Tank, Outdoor Evaporative Air Cooler for Patio, Yard, Porch, Factory
submitted by No_Warning8534 to Feral_Cats [link] [comments]
Heat induced asthma directly and indirectly kills a lot of cats. Especially long hair, darker colors, Kittens and those with already questionable immune systems. It can kill older cats too. It just makes them miserable and exhausted. It contributes to fights etc.
This is something that's a huge hit with them and will make you feel better about them having to be outside.
It's getting hott. During the heat of the day I recommend this type of 'ac unit' for them.
Enclosed under a patio or something helps too. These are all rated for outdoor and most of them are on sale.
You can find them elsewhere, I'm just giving you guys an idea.
KEGIAN Swamp Cooler, 1800CFM Evaporative Air Cooler with 5.3-Gal Tank, 12H Timer, 120° Oscillation, 3-IN-1 Portable Evaporative Cooler, Cooling Fan for Room Office Garage Indoor Outdoor Use (31IN) https://a.co/d/1dfg8Js
ROVSUN 2300CFM Portable Air Cooler, 7.9Gal/30L Evaporative Swamp Cooler, 3-IN-1 Cooling Fan with Remote Control, 3 Speeds, 12H Timer & 4 Ice Box, Humidifying Oscillating Fan for Indoor or Outdoor
41-Inch Swamp Cooler, 3531CFM Industry Evaporative Cooler, 3 Speeds, 120° Swing, 10.6 Gal Water Tank, Outdoor Evaporative Air Cooler for Patio, Yard, Porch, Factory
2024.06.06 04:31 Saggy_tits_omnomnom In fields of Lavender chapters 1 and 2 (work in progress)
CHAPTER 1
Leroy Williams stands hunched over his bathroom sink. Still groggy, he grabs his worn toothbrush and begins his morning dental routine. Standing in his bathroom mirror was a tall, skinny, and pale man with dark brown hair. His eyes were sunken and baggy, his nose was long, and resembled a beak, he looked exhausted. Still barely awake,he made his way to his kitchen. The cabinets are worn, and the paint has begun to flake off many of the surfaces. He grabs a pen off the counter and shakily marks an X on his calendar under the date May 13th, 1911. Under the dim light of his, what some might describe as disheveled New York City apartment, the floorboards creak with every step on his way to check his ice box. He pulls out 3 eggs and gently lays them on the counter. He grabs a lone package of butter and a rotten smelling slab of beef he quickly tossed into his garbage can.
After a hurried, bland meal of toast and eggs, he heads out the door in his Ill fitted 3 piece suit and Trilby hat. He is dressed in a dark monotone color fitting of the soured look on his rapidly aging face.
His head is pointed down to the sidewalk, and he begins his familiar walk to the offices of the F&B camera company. As he steps out the front door, he's immediately hit by the sulfuric smell from the smog that drowns the city. He makes his way down the busy sidewalk. He contemplated the reason he lived in this often overwhelming city. Leroy hated the blaring horns, loud obnoxious people, and the general filth of living in such an over-populated environment. His mind wandered as he navigated a sea of high strung business men and laborers. He imagined a place isolated and calm. A small cabin in the middle of the wilderness, it was beginning to grow dark as the light reflected a vibrant orange off the surface of the lake. Surrounded by large towering pines, they filled the air with a sweet scent he desperately tried to imagine. Sounds of loons calling were the only thing that could be heard over a quiet crackle of a fire. He lived in this state of ecstasy with a dog lying content by his feet and his wife gently squeezing his arm as they softly rock together on the porch swing. It was almost perfect. The only fault of this dream of his was that no matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine her face.
Almost to the offices, he stops at a small newspaper stand run by a boy no older than 10 standing on a milk crate behind the counter. "Hello, Mr. Williams, we got a must-read today, " the boy said in a high-pitched tone. While reaching into his pocket, he skittishly responded. "Good morning, Stewie," and swiftly exchanged his 2 cents for the newspaper. In one fluid motion, he nodded to the boy, tucked the paper under his arm, and continued on his way to the office. Leroy could see the monolithic brick building that filled him with dred by the very sight of it. Approaching the door, he lets out a deep sigh. He makes his way through the large empty marble lobby and to the elevator manned by Gerrard. Gerrard has worked here for 2 years and has seen Mr. Williams every work day in the time he has been there, yet he knew absolutely nothing about him. They hardly ever talked, and when they did, it was brief good mornings followed by the awkward silence and clanking of the elevators' mechanisms. He is finally brought up to the 13th floor and leaves this particular morning, all without saying a single word to Gerard.
Entering the all too familiar office, Leroy was greeted by the overly friendly John Dowry, the head of advertising. "Goooood morning, Leroy, it's a pleasure to see your smiling face this fine morning," Leroy responded with a slight half-hearted smile and a "Good to see you too John." Leroy was torn on his opinion of John. On one hand, he found his overwhelmingly positive demeanor almost insufferable at times. Other times, he was thankful for him due to the fact that he seemed to be one of the few people in this city that would ever be genuinely happy to see him.
As Leroy made his way to his desk, he felt as if he were invisible in this sea of bustling employees. Eyes that meet with his quickly darted away. Leroy had worked at F&B for 7 years now, but still, familiar faces he had seen day in and day out remained mere strangers. He approached his cluttered desk and sat in his wooden chair. he clicked on his lamp, shining further light onto the staggering mound of paper he was expected to complete. As he dug into his pile of mind-numbing tasks, he felt his eyes grow heavy and his concentration slip. He began tapping his foot in a feeble attempt to keep himself from slipping back into slumber. However, he was not successful. He awoke to a loud thud of a closed fist slamming on his desk inches from his face. Squinting and his vision blurry, he heard a booming voice scream, "Williams, my office now." Leroy threw his head up from the desk that was now covered by a small puddle of drool. Eyes still puffy and red, he swiftly rose from his chair and made way for his boss's office. Leroy approached a large wooden door with a brass plate bearing the name Mr. Owens. With his heart in his stomach, Leroy pushed open the door, revealing a portly, bald man in his early 40s brandishing a thick black mustache above his lip. "Close the door," he bellerd. "Im sorry, sir. I promise it will never happen again."Leroy spoke in a patheticly quiet tone "I don't want your damned apology. I want an explanation. I want a damn good reason to keep you on payroll, and furthermore, I want to know why the hell your production has plummeted so dramatically in the last year." "I... I..." Leroy muttered "Well, Jesus Christ, man, spit it out!" Leroy paused for a second. "I've been having night terrors," Mr. Owens scoffed and mumbled under his breath "you've got to be fucking kidding me" "I'm sorry Mr Owens but it's the honest truth" Mr. Owens paused, clearly frustrated he checked his pocket watch and quickly put it back. He buries his face into the palms of his hands. His elbows braced against the table and he began to rub his forehead with the tips of his fingers as to say I wish someone would relieve me from this migraine sitting in front of me. After letting out a deep sigh, he says, "Get it under control. If your production doesn't rise 15% by the next quarter you should start looking for new work." "I understand, sir." "Back to work, you have a lot of time to make up for," Now, for the first time today, as Leroy left Mr. Owens's office, he'd felt noticed by his peers. All eyes were pointed at Leroy. Most tried not to make it overly obvious, but their presence was felt regardless. After walking back to his desk and traversing the gauntlet of judging eyes, he slouched back into his chair and picked up his pen.
Leroy had put the final document into the binder labeled “complete” for the day. The lights were all off, excluding one that still illuminated his desk. He turned off the light, grabbed his overcoat, and made his way for the stairwell. As he left the offices for the day, he lit a cigarette and began walking to marrco's grocery a small shop just slightly out of the way of his apartment. While walking down the street his ears perked to the sound of gospel music coming from a nearby building. Though he tried to pinpoint the location of the song he couldn't seem to. He could only confirm the music was coming from somewhere ahead of him. The voices sounded angelic, although distant and muffled. He paused for a moment outside the store. leaning against the cold brick wall outside for a few seconds. Still unable to narrow the source of the singing to any specific location he took time to admire the soft singing contrast to the harsh chaotic sounds the city was typically produced. Soon the song that provided him with a much needed respite in this overwhelming and chaotic day slowly faded away.
Not looking to waste any more time Leroy grabbed the few things he knew he would need and took his place in the line to the counter. To his right, he saw an elderly woman hunched over a walking cane. She wore glasses with large thick frames and lenses that were thick as a shot glass. The most striking part of this woman was the clothes she was wearing. She was covered in a large purple robe similar to that a catholic priest would wear during mass. The gown was embroidered with white stitching around the legs were images of deer, birds, flowers and trees the gown looked expertly crafted and much more expensive than someone would expect in this particular neighborhood draped around her neck was a silver rope necklace with a single gold ball hanging from it. It also looked far too expensive to be worn in such an environment.
Leroy set his items on the counter and greeted the cashier. After punching in the items into the cash register the man said, "That will be one dollar and thirty four cents. Rummaging through his pockets Leroy was only able to collect one dollar and three cents to give to the man. Now thoroughly embarrassed, he offered to bring back some of his items to their respective shelves, until a voice chipped in from behind him. "No, you don't have to do anything of the sort" chimed the old woman in the robe. She had already had the missing money in her hand And placed it on the counter before he even had time to interject. “OH no that's really not necessary” said Leroy “I insist all we do is for the good of man” Leroy was slightly taken back by this comment but was nevertheless appreciative “Thank you very much miss” he said stepping away from the counter “You can call me Mrs. Eros” “Mrs. Eros, I appreciate the gesture. I've been having a horrible day, this means a lot”. She flashes him a warm and inviting smile “I do all I can, actually we do all we can”. Reaching into her purse she withdrew a small flier that was neatly hand printed in pen. It read “The Church of Argos come to worship in the loving collective of man all are welcome”. Below that was a small almost childlike doodle of a church and an address, 5542 Booker st. “I would love for you to join us tonight in praise” said the woman in an almost ecstatic tone “I'm sorry but I've no energy today. I appreciate the offer but I have to be heading home.” “OH no worries I completely understand young man we will always be here with arms open”. “Thanks Mrs.Eros” As Leroy was leaving the woman chimed “You're very welcome. But come see us soon with you we will grow to do great things together”
Leroy tucked the flier into his coat pocket. On his walk home he began to replay the encounter in his head over and over. He couldn't help but feel frightened by the encounter with Mrs.Eros something didn't seem right, the general mannerisms of Mrs. Eros seemed foreign to him. It was to Leroy as if she was purposely using a strange cryptic method of speaking to hide an underlying purpose of sinister intent. As these thoughts ran through his head Leroy began to doubt himself. He knew himself better than anyone. He also knew that he could find any excuse necessary to avoid interacting with other people besides the absolutely necessary. Going to some church he had never heard of and mingling with the congregation was, in his mind, far from necessary. He questioned, am I overreacting to the way this woman talked to me? Is there any real, good reason I shouldn't attend her church? What if she's a foreigner and she speaks in a way that is only strange to me? What if church would be good for me, and is what I need to pull myself from this rut? These questions danced in his brain for the rest of the night until eventually, showering, eating and going back to sleep.
CHAPTER 2
Leroy Arose from the lying position on the damp, wooden oak floor. Before him was an observational window surrounded by 3 more walls none of which bore a door or method of escape. Gazing through the window he saw himself alone in a never ending expanse of fields of lavender. He stood looking at the setting sun.
The man in the field wore an expression of bliss and intoxication. Behind him was a figure neither man nor animal; it stood staggering above him at least 9 feet tall, its body covered in dark Grey hair and its knees bent backwards. Below were hooves, however they were obscured from the observer's sight by the flowers of lavender. Its torso resembled that of a man except also covered in hair and his hands being exceptionally long; his head was that of a goat but seemingly Much more predatory. It had eyes nearly resembling that of a human however they appeared empty soulless and with far larger pupils. Atop its head were horns black as night gently curved in a horribly perfect symmetry.
Leroy watched on in horror as the figure slowly began to approach himself in the field so as not to disturb him or draw unwanted attention. Looming over him he slowly began to raise his hands to his neck before abruptly clamping his windpipe completely shut. He struggled for a few seconds, futilely scratching at the arms of the overwhelming beast. His body fell limp and disappeared into the never ending expanse of purple flowers. The creature swiftly cranked its neck to look directly at the helpless observer.
Leroy awoke covered in sweat and gasping for air. He looked at his clock. It was almost time for him to wake up and go to work. He brushed his teeth, made his breakfast and marked the date off the calendar May 20th. Now fitted in his cheap, worn suit he stepped back onto the busy New York sidewalk.
He started his routine, Monday morning walk. as He made his way closer to work he began to hear that familiar choir music, as the music grew louder He located the source. in the middle of a small, nearby plaza was a choir riser populated by nearly 40 people all dressed in familiar purple robes. The robes (just like that of Mrs.Eros) Were embroidered in white showing scenes of nature. Pitched into the grass before them was a banner stretching the length of the risers in large bold letters that read “JOIN US IN WORSHIP - THE CHURCH OF ARGOS CHOIR.” They all held small black song books in their hands on the cover of the books were ten small white circles arranged symmetrical in one larger circle. The choir members stood side by side looking slightly upward as if they were singing to someone standing atop the New York city skyline. More notable than that, each member of this choir wore an expression of joy as if they had truly been elated to sing to a, still groggy, uninterested group of passer byes mostly just trying to get to work. Leroy could not make out the words of the choir. It wasn't English but the singing was Nevertheless harmonious and beautiful. After taking a brief moment to observe he continued on his way. The presence of a choir at 7:15 in the morning was odd but so were many of his other encounters in this monolithic city, he thought little of it.
At a crosswalk one block away from his workplace Leroy heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Williams over here” it was Mrs.Eros in her purple robe. In her left hand was a stack of fliers And in her right was a plate of food wrapped in paper. The old woman approached Leroy. “Me and the rest of the congregation are around the city spreading our word and giving back to the community. Would you care for some food this morning?” “OH no I'm quite alright I really should be going” “Are you sure it's free from the church you really should” before she could finish her sentiment Leroy interpreted. “No I'm fine really I have to be going now” he turned his back walking away Leroy glanced at the woman seeing the annoyed expression left on her face. She looked understandably angry, however Leroy found it hard to care as he had little interest in listening to the religious rambling of an elderly woman before a long day of work. As he stepped through the large glass doors he wondered to himself if he ever did tell Mrs.Eros his surname.
Leroy stepped into the office space. immediately he noticed many of his co workers were at their desks eating a plated breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. one of those people was John Dowry
Leroy approached John and asked “where did you get that food?” It was phrased in a tone far too harsh for the simple question. John noticed this and was visibly taken back by his attitude. “Uhh I got it from some old woman in a purple robe. Why? you want some?” Responded John “um no sorry i was just wondering i saw that woman this morning as well.” “Oh well why didn't you stop, they were giving it out for free you know.” Leroy didn't know how to respond, he certainly didn't want to tell him the truth, that he ignored her just because he didn't want to talk to a woman who had done him a kind deed earlier. Leroy especially didn't want to tell him the deeper lying truth that something seemed off about her and he didn't have any specific evidence to justify his suspicion. He just simply replied “Oh I Didn't know besides I'm not really hungry.” He then awkwardly exited the conversation and walked toward his desk without any further explanation. This behavior was something John was particularly familiar with and had grown to expect from the notoriously strange Leroy Williams.
Leroy sat at his desk observing the scene of the office. Many of the men usually half awake sipping coffee with a blank face around this time were joking amongst themselves. They shared stories of the kind people in robes giving them free food. Some compared their matching pamphlets they had gotten from the generous, friendly, strangers in robes. Leroy remained watchful and unamused.
The time was now 10:30 Leroy stood up, grabbed his tin lunchbox and made his way to the breakroom. He typically sat alone while on break however he very much enjoyed listening to his coworkers ongoing conversations. As an accumulation of years of this practice Leroy knows many interesting tidbits of his coworkers. Many of those aforementioned people would be hard pressed to tell you Leroy's last name. Today sitting near him were John Dowry and Donald Vanderpool. Today these were the two individuals Leroy would make victims of his years-long ongoing eavesdropping campaign. He heard Donald speak first “ You see the assholes in purple running around with sandwiches this morning?” “Yeah, they were handing out breakfast, actually they seemed nice.” “Yeah they're all over the town lately. My wife went to one of their little meetings this weekend and now she won't shut the fuck up about it. She's been pestering me about going with her nonstop now and honestly I'm really considering going just to get her to stop.” “Really? your wife's into that?” “Yeah big time I guess one of her friends convinced her to go now she's obsessed, wears this big purple gown now and everything like she doesn't have anything better to do.” At this point Donald seems visibly upset “I thought you said your wife wasn't religious?” “She's not or at least she wasn't but now it's all she talks about. She goes to church one time and now she's a fanatic. she even got up at 5:30 this morning to go sing in their choir.” John remained contemplating in silence. “I suppose maybe there's something to all of this. I guess I'll have to go see for myself.” The bell rang and their break was over.
Leroy sat under the buzzing lights at his office desk nearly done with his work for the day but with three hours left he began to wonder how one church could, within the matter of a week, go from completely irrelevant to the talk of the town. He had many more questions than answers and Leroy needed answers. He wanted to know how they started what they stood for and why they wore those bright purple robes. He had no reason to view them in any negative light, however he felt deep within himself under the smiling mask lurked something black and sinister.
The bell rang. It was time for him to leave. He had been thinking about this all day; he knew where he was going, 5542 Booker street. Leroy knew if he truly wanted to know for certain if his suspicions, whatever they may be, were true he would have to go to the source.
Walking rather briskly down Booker street he took careful notice of his surroundings. He figured he was still roughly 10 or 12 blocks away. He began to notice small differences in the environment. One example is that the closer he got to this church the number of people wearing robes had grown the closer he got to the church the more of them there were. Another being that many of the houses and apartments within a close proximity of the church had purple curtains hanging in their windows. There were also advertisements scattered around the neighborhood on telephone poles and booths for the church of Argos.
As Leroy continued he began to feel more and more that he was within enemy territory and despite what the signs may say he was not welcomed. Now only two blocks from his dreaded destination nearly all of the people around him were dressed in purple; he also felt every set of eyes looking directly at him.
As the destination began to come into sight he noticed the building was not nearly as intimidating as he had imagined it in his mind; it was a 3 story house that looked newly painted in white.Perched In front of the windows were rows of beautiful flower beds. In those beds were vibrant, sweet smelling, purple flowers.
the door was a large wooden double door with 10 Grey dots on the front symmetrically arranged in a circle in that circle were the words the church of Argos all are welcome
Leroy felt much more comfortable now than he did only moments ago. He no longer held any suspicion of this strange organization; he was finally relieved of his overwhelming anxiety.
Leroy reached his hand out to grab the handle of the large church door when suddenly he heard an ear piercing scream come from behind the doors somewhere deep within the house. His stomach dropped and he retreated his outreached hand from the door. he looked behind him no less than 12 robed men and women stood behind him. Their typical look of bliss and warm inviting smiles had shifted to a look of suppressed rage and mal intent. Leroy pushed through the crowd of robes to the open sidewalk. He sprinted as fast as he could muster for 9 blocks until he felt he was safe and too exhausted to run. After getting a comfortable distance from the place he now knew as the most terrifying place in the city.
He sat on his couch, turned on his radio and tuned it to the local news broadcast. He listened long into the night about an upcoming mayoral election happening within the next 3 weeks.
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Leroy Williams stands hunched over his bathroom sink. Still groggy, he grabs his worn toothbrush and begins his morning dental routine. Standing in his bathroom mirror was a tall, skinny, and pale man with dark brown hair. His eyes were sunken and baggy, his nose was long, and resembled a beak, he looked exhausted. Still barely awake,he made his way to his kitchen. The cabinets are worn, and the paint has begun to flake off many of the surfaces. He grabs a pen off the counter and shakily marks an X on his calendar under the date May 13th, 1911. Under the dim light of his, what some might describe as disheveled New York City apartment, the floorboards creak with every step on his way to check his ice box. He pulls out 3 eggs and gently lays them on the counter. He grabs a lone package of butter and a rotten smelling slab of beef he quickly tossed into his garbage can.
After a hurried, bland meal of toast and eggs, he heads out the door in his Ill fitted 3 piece suit and Trilby hat. He is dressed in a dark monotone color fitting of the soured look on his rapidly aging face.
His head is pointed down to the sidewalk, and he begins his familiar walk to the offices of the F&B camera company. As he steps out the front door, he's immediately hit by the sulfuric smell from the smog that drowns the city. He makes his way down the busy sidewalk. He contemplated the reason he lived in this often overwhelming city. Leroy hated the blaring horns, loud obnoxious people, and the general filth of living in such an over-populated environment. His mind wandered as he navigated a sea of high strung business men and laborers. He imagined a place isolated and calm. A small cabin in the middle of the wilderness, it was beginning to grow dark as the light reflected a vibrant orange off the surface of the lake. Surrounded by large towering pines, they filled the air with a sweet scent he desperately tried to imagine. Sounds of loons calling were the only thing that could be heard over a quiet crackle of a fire. He lived in this state of ecstasy with a dog lying content by his feet and his wife gently squeezing his arm as they softly rock together on the porch swing. It was almost perfect. The only fault of this dream of his was that no matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine her face.
Almost to the offices, he stops at a small newspaper stand run by a boy no older than 10 standing on a milk crate behind the counter. "Hello, Mr. Williams, we got a must-read today, " the boy said in a high-pitched tone. While reaching into his pocket, he skittishly responded. "Good morning, Stewie," and swiftly exchanged his 2 cents for the newspaper. In one fluid motion, he nodded to the boy, tucked the paper under his arm, and continued on his way to the office. Leroy could see the monolithic brick building that filled him with dred by the very sight of it. Approaching the door, he lets out a deep sigh. He makes his way through the large empty marble lobby and to the elevator manned by Gerrard. Gerrard has worked here for 2 years and has seen Mr. Williams every work day in the time he has been there, yet he knew absolutely nothing about him. They hardly ever talked, and when they did, it was brief good mornings followed by the awkward silence and clanking of the elevators' mechanisms. He is finally brought up to the 13th floor and leaves this particular morning, all without saying a single word to Gerard.
Entering the all too familiar office, Leroy was greeted by the overly friendly John Dowry, the head of advertising. "Goooood morning, Leroy, it's a pleasure to see your smiling face this fine morning," Leroy responded with a slight half-hearted smile and a "Good to see you too John." Leroy was torn on his opinion of John. On one hand, he found his overwhelmingly positive demeanor almost insufferable at times. Other times, he was thankful for him due to the fact that he seemed to be one of the few people in this city that would ever be genuinely happy to see him.
As Leroy made his way to his desk, he felt as if he were invisible in this sea of bustling employees. Eyes that meet with his quickly darted away. Leroy had worked at F&B for 7 years now, but still, familiar faces he had seen day in and day out remained mere strangers. He approached his cluttered desk and sat in his wooden chair. he clicked on his lamp, shining further light onto the staggering mound of paper he was expected to complete. As he dug into his pile of mind-numbing tasks, he felt his eyes grow heavy and his concentration slip. He began tapping his foot in a feeble attempt to keep himself from slipping back into slumber. However, he was not successful. He awoke to a loud thud of a closed fist slamming on his desk inches from his face. Squinting and his vision blurry, he heard a booming voice scream, "Williams, my office now." Leroy threw his head up from the desk that was now covered by a small puddle of drool. Eyes still puffy and red, he swiftly rose from his chair and made way for his boss's office. Leroy approached a large wooden door with a brass plate bearing the name Mr. Owens. With his heart in his stomach, Leroy pushed open the door, revealing a portly, bald man in his early 40s brandishing a thick black mustache above his lip. "Close the door," he bellerd. "Im sorry, sir. I promise it will never happen again."Leroy spoke in a patheticly quiet tone "I don't want your damned apology. I want an explanation. I want a damn good reason to keep you on payroll, and furthermore, I want to know why the hell your production has plummeted so dramatically in the last year." "I... I..." Leroy muttered "Well, Jesus Christ, man, spit it out!" Leroy paused for a second. "I've been having night terrors," Mr. Owens scoffed and mumbled under his breath "you've got to be fucking kidding me" "I'm sorry Mr Owens but it's the honest truth" Mr. Owens paused, clearly frustrated he checked his pocket watch and quickly put it back. He buries his face into the palms of his hands. His elbows braced against the table and he began to rub his forehead with the tips of his fingers as to say I wish someone would relieve me from this migraine sitting in front of me. After letting out a deep sigh, he says, "Get it under control. If your production doesn't rise 15% by the next quarter you should start looking for new work." "I understand, sir." "Back to work, you have a lot of time to make up for," Now, for the first time today, as Leroy left Mr. Owens's office, he'd felt noticed by his peers. All eyes were pointed at Leroy. Most tried not to make it overly obvious, but their presence was felt regardless. After walking back to his desk and traversing the gauntlet of judging eyes, he slouched back into his chair and picked up his pen.
Leroy had put the final document into the binder labeled “complete” for the day. The lights were all off, excluding one that still illuminated his desk. He turned off the light, grabbed his overcoat, and made his way for the stairwell. As he left the offices for the day, he lit a cigarette and began walking to marrco's grocery a small shop just slightly out of the way of his apartment. While walking down the street his ears perked to the sound of gospel music coming from a nearby building. Though he tried to pinpoint the location of the song he couldn't seem to. He could only confirm the music was coming from somewhere ahead of him. The voices sounded angelic, although distant and muffled. He paused for a moment outside the store. leaning against the cold brick wall outside for a few seconds. Still unable to narrow the source of the singing to any specific location he took time to admire the soft singing contrast to the harsh chaotic sounds the city was typically produced. Soon the song that provided him with a much needed respite in this overwhelming and chaotic day slowly faded away.
Not looking to waste any more time Leroy grabbed the few things he knew he would need and took his place in the line to the counter. To his right, he saw an elderly woman hunched over a walking cane. She wore glasses with large thick frames and lenses that were thick as a shot glass. The most striking part of this woman was the clothes she was wearing. She was covered in a large purple robe similar to that a catholic priest would wear during mass. The gown was embroidered with white stitching around the legs were images of deer, birds, flowers and trees the gown looked expertly crafted and much more expensive than someone would expect in this particular neighborhood draped around her neck was a silver rope necklace with a single gold ball hanging from it. It also looked far too expensive to be worn in such an environment.
Leroy set his items on the counter and greeted the cashier. After punching in the items into the cash register the man said, "That will be one dollar and thirty four cents. Rummaging through his pockets Leroy was only able to collect one dollar and three cents to give to the man. Now thoroughly embarrassed, he offered to bring back some of his items to their respective shelves, until a voice chipped in from behind him. "No, you don't have to do anything of the sort" chimed the old woman in the robe. She had already had the missing money in her hand And placed it on the counter before he even had time to interject. “OH no that's really not necessary” said Leroy “I insist all we do is for the good of man” Leroy was slightly taken back by this comment but was nevertheless appreciative “Thank you very much miss” he said stepping away from the counter “You can call me Mrs. Eros” “Mrs. Eros, I appreciate the gesture. I've been having a horrible day, this means a lot”. She flashes him a warm and inviting smile “I do all I can, actually we do all we can”. Reaching into her purse she withdrew a small flier that was neatly hand printed in pen. It read “The Church of Argos come to worship in the loving collective of man all are welcome”. Below that was a small almost childlike doodle of a church and an address, 5542 Booker st. “I would love for you to join us tonight in praise” said the woman in an almost ecstatic tone “I'm sorry but I've no energy today. I appreciate the offer but I have to be heading home.” “OH no worries I completely understand young man we will always be here with arms open”. “Thanks Mrs.Eros” As Leroy was leaving the woman chimed “You're very welcome. But come see us soon with you we will grow to do great things together”
Leroy tucked the flier into his coat pocket. On his walk home he began to replay the encounter in his head over and over. He couldn't help but feel frightened by the encounter with Mrs.Eros something didn't seem right, the general mannerisms of Mrs. Eros seemed foreign to him. It was to Leroy as if she was purposely using a strange cryptic method of speaking to hide an underlying purpose of sinister intent. As these thoughts ran through his head Leroy began to doubt himself. He knew himself better than anyone. He also knew that he could find any excuse necessary to avoid interacting with other people besides the absolutely necessary. Going to some church he had never heard of and mingling with the congregation was, in his mind, far from necessary. He questioned, am I overreacting to the way this woman talked to me? Is there any real, good reason I shouldn't attend her church? What if she's a foreigner and she speaks in a way that is only strange to me? What if church would be good for me, and is what I need to pull myself from this rut? These questions danced in his brain for the rest of the night until eventually, showering, eating and going back to sleep.
CHAPTER 2
Leroy Arose from the lying position on the damp, wooden oak floor. Before him was an observational window surrounded by 3 more walls none of which bore a door or method of escape. Gazing through the window he saw himself alone in a never ending expanse of fields of lavender. He stood looking at the setting sun.
The man in the field wore an expression of bliss and intoxication. Behind him was a figure neither man nor animal; it stood staggering above him at least 9 feet tall, its body covered in dark Grey hair and its knees bent backwards. Below were hooves, however they were obscured from the observer's sight by the flowers of lavender. Its torso resembled that of a man except also covered in hair and his hands being exceptionally long; his head was that of a goat but seemingly Much more predatory. It had eyes nearly resembling that of a human however they appeared empty soulless and with far larger pupils. Atop its head were horns black as night gently curved in a horribly perfect symmetry.
Leroy watched on in horror as the figure slowly began to approach himself in the field so as not to disturb him or draw unwanted attention. Looming over him he slowly began to raise his hands to his neck before abruptly clamping his windpipe completely shut. He struggled for a few seconds, futilely scratching at the arms of the overwhelming beast. His body fell limp and disappeared into the never ending expanse of purple flowers. The creature swiftly cranked its neck to look directly at the helpless observer.
Leroy awoke covered in sweat and gasping for air. He looked at his clock. It was almost time for him to wake up and go to work. He brushed his teeth, made his breakfast and marked the date off the calendar May 20th. Now fitted in his cheap, worn suit he stepped back onto the busy New York sidewalk.
He started his routine, Monday morning walk. as He made his way closer to work he began to hear that familiar choir music, as the music grew louder He located the source. in the middle of a small, nearby plaza was a choir riser populated by nearly 40 people all dressed in familiar purple robes. The robes (just like that of Mrs.Eros) Were embroidered in white showing scenes of nature. Pitched into the grass before them was a banner stretching the length of the risers in large bold letters that read “JOIN US IN WORSHIP - THE CHURCH OF ARGOS CHOIR.” They all held small black song books in their hands on the cover of the books were ten small white circles arranged symmetrical in one larger circle. The choir members stood side by side looking slightly upward as if they were singing to someone standing atop the New York city skyline. More notable than that, each member of this choir wore an expression of joy as if they had truly been elated to sing to a, still groggy, uninterested group of passer byes mostly just trying to get to work. Leroy could not make out the words of the choir. It wasn't English but the singing was Nevertheless harmonious and beautiful. After taking a brief moment to observe he continued on his way. The presence of a choir at 7:15 in the morning was odd but so were many of his other encounters in this monolithic city, he thought little of it.
At a crosswalk one block away from his workplace Leroy heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Williams over here” it was Mrs.Eros in her purple robe. In her left hand was a stack of fliers And in her right was a plate of food wrapped in paper. The old woman approached Leroy. “Me and the rest of the congregation are around the city spreading our word and giving back to the community. Would you care for some food this morning?” “OH no I'm quite alright I really should be going” “Are you sure it's free from the church you really should” before she could finish her sentiment Leroy interpreted. “No I'm fine really I have to be going now” he turned his back walking away Leroy glanced at the woman seeing the annoyed expression left on her face. She looked understandably angry, however Leroy found it hard to care as he had little interest in listening to the religious rambling of an elderly woman before a long day of work. As he stepped through the large glass doors he wondered to himself if he ever did tell Mrs.Eros his surname.
Leroy stepped into the office space. immediately he noticed many of his co workers were at their desks eating a plated breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. one of those people was John Dowry
Leroy approached John and asked “where did you get that food?” It was phrased in a tone far too harsh for the simple question. John noticed this and was visibly taken back by his attitude. “Uhh I got it from some old woman in a purple robe. Why? you want some?” Responded John “um no sorry i was just wondering i saw that woman this morning as well.” “Oh well why didn't you stop, they were giving it out for free you know.” Leroy didn't know how to respond, he certainly didn't want to tell him the truth, that he ignored her just because he didn't want to talk to a woman who had done him a kind deed earlier. Leroy especially didn't want to tell him the deeper lying truth that something seemed off about her and he didn't have any specific evidence to justify his suspicion. He just simply replied “Oh I Didn't know besides I'm not really hungry.” He then awkwardly exited the conversation and walked toward his desk without any further explanation. This behavior was something John was particularly familiar with and had grown to expect from the notoriously strange Leroy Williams.
Leroy sat at his desk observing the scene of the office. Many of the men usually half awake sipping coffee with a blank face around this time were joking amongst themselves. They shared stories of the kind people in robes giving them free food. Some compared their matching pamphlets they had gotten from the generous, friendly, strangers in robes. Leroy remained watchful and unamused.
The time was now 10:30 Leroy stood up, grabbed his tin lunchbox and made his way to the breakroom. He typically sat alone while on break however he very much enjoyed listening to his coworkers ongoing conversations. As an accumulation of years of this practice Leroy knows many interesting tidbits of his coworkers. Many of those aforementioned people would be hard pressed to tell you Leroy's last name. Today sitting near him were John Dowry and Donald Vanderpool. Today these were the two individuals Leroy would make victims of his years-long ongoing eavesdropping campaign. He heard Donald speak first “ You see the assholes in purple running around with sandwiches this morning?” “Yeah, they were handing out breakfast, actually they seemed nice.” “Yeah they're all over the town lately. My wife went to one of their little meetings this weekend and now she won't shut the fuck up about it. She's been pestering me about going with her nonstop now and honestly I'm really considering going just to get her to stop.” “Really? your wife's into that?” “Yeah big time I guess one of her friends convinced her to go now she's obsessed, wears this big purple gown now and everything like she doesn't have anything better to do.” At this point Donald seems visibly upset “I thought you said your wife wasn't religious?” “She's not or at least she wasn't but now it's all she talks about. She goes to church one time and now she's a fanatic. she even got up at 5:30 this morning to go sing in their choir.” John remained contemplating in silence. “I suppose maybe there's something to all of this. I guess I'll have to go see for myself.” The bell rang and their break was over.
Leroy sat under the buzzing lights at his office desk nearly done with his work for the day but with three hours left he began to wonder how one church could, within the matter of a week, go from completely irrelevant to the talk of the town. He had many more questions than answers and Leroy needed answers. He wanted to know how they started what they stood for and why they wore those bright purple robes. He had no reason to view them in any negative light, however he felt deep within himself under the smiling mask lurked something black and sinister.
The bell rang. It was time for him to leave. He had been thinking about this all day; he knew where he was going, 5542 Booker street. Leroy knew if he truly wanted to know for certain if his suspicions, whatever they may be, were true he would have to go to the source.
Walking rather briskly down Booker street he took careful notice of his surroundings. He figured he was still roughly 10 or 12 blocks away. He began to notice small differences in the environment. One example is that the closer he got to this church the number of people wearing robes had grown the closer he got to the church the more of them there were. Another being that many of the houses and apartments within a close proximity of the church had purple curtains hanging in their windows. There were also advertisements scattered around the neighborhood on telephone poles and booths for the church of Argos.
As Leroy continued he began to feel more and more that he was within enemy territory and despite what the signs may say he was not welcomed. Now only two blocks from his dreaded destination nearly all of the people around him were dressed in purple; he also felt every set of eyes looking directly at him.
As the destination began to come into sight he noticed the building was not nearly as intimidating as he had imagined it in his mind; it was a 3 story house that looked newly painted in white.Perched In front of the windows were rows of beautiful flower beds. In those beds were vibrant, sweet smelling, purple flowers.
the door was a large wooden double door with 10 Grey dots on the front symmetrically arranged in a circle in that circle were the words the church of Argos all are welcome
Leroy felt much more comfortable now than he did only moments ago. He no longer held any suspicion of this strange organization; he was finally relieved of his overwhelming anxiety.
Leroy reached his hand out to grab the handle of the large church door when suddenly he heard an ear piercing scream come from behind the doors somewhere deep within the house. His stomach dropped and he retreated his outreached hand from the door. he looked behind him no less than 12 robed men and women stood behind him. Their typical look of bliss and warm inviting smiles had shifted to a look of suppressed rage and mal intent. Leroy pushed through the crowd of robes to the open sidewalk. He sprinted as fast as he could muster for 9 blocks until he felt he was safe and too exhausted to run. After getting a comfortable distance from the place he now knew as the most terrifying place in the city.
He sat on his couch, turned on his radio and tuned it to the local news broadcast. He listened long into the night about an upcoming mayoral election happening within the next 3 weeks.
2024.06.06 04:04 KillerOrangeCat Three True Scary Stories in the Mountains 6/5/2024
Number One: Hitchhiker
I have lived up in the mountains for a really long time. I am not a hermit or anything like that, though. I have a really nice house in the mountains that I built when I was much younger. I have done all of my work from home because that is what I enjoy. I make enough money that I can do most of what I want and that is pretty important to the story.
I have been going to this café every day for decades. I always have my lunch there. It’s a nice little country café which is never really busy during the day. So I can go there and I can have a nice peaceful lunch before going back home. It takes me about an hour to drive to the café and an hour to drive home, of course. Like me, the café is pretty much sitting by itself in the mountains.
On this particular day, when I arrived, I noticed a customer that I had never seen before. There was something that was very off about him. It is also one of those things that you would have to see to really understand it. I mean, looks can be deceiving, but it had nothing to do with the way the guy looked. It was his presence that was intimidating. The way he carried himself and the way that he behaved gave me a negative impression of him.
After I had gotten my food and was eating and reading a book, the man came over to me and he asked me if I could give him a ride. I definitely didn’t want to but I didn’t even have to say anything. The waitress, who knew me very well, told him that I am usually there for several hours every day reading my book. He would have a much easier time just hitchhiking.
The man seemed fine with that. If asked me if that was right and if I was sure I couldn’t give him a ride and I let him know she was right. I would be here for a lot longer. The man said okay and he went outside.
The waitress told me that he had been in the café for quite a while. He had said some crazy and disturbing things to her. She was worried that if he got into my car with me, I wouldn’t be coming back alive.
I watched for a while as the guy paced back and forth in front of the café. I kept waiting for him to come back in and maybe ask me again and I was hoping he would find a different ride before I left. I had no desire to give the man a ride.
Eventually, a white car stopped by the road. The waitress walked over to me while I was looking outside. We both watched him get into the car after talking to the guy for a moment. Then they drove off.
“Looks like you are okay then,” the waitress commented. “Hopefully we won’t ever see that guy again. He just really made me very uneasy.”
After a while, I stopped thinking about the guy and just went back to reading my book. When it came time for me to go, I left the waitress a really good tip and then I went out and I got into my car.
I did always enjoy my drive even after living in the mountains for as long as I have been. It was a quiet drive and I rarely came across other cars.
So, I was a bit surprised when I was going down the road and I saw a white car sitting on the side of the road. I thought someone might have needed assistance so I pulled up behind the car off the side of the road. It wasn’t until I got out of the car that I figured out that it was the car I saw pick up the hitchhiker.
I was a bit worried, remembering the hitchhiker. But I couldn’t tell if anyone was in the car. So, I walked up to the car very cautiously. When got up to the car, I noticed something that I wished I didn’t see. The driver of the car was laying in a bloody mess in the front seat. The hitchhiker was nowhere to be seen.
At first, I thought the driver was dead but he moved a bit when I got to his window. He was still alive but I wasn’t sure how long he would be if I didn’t try to help him and get to the hospital, which was quite a drive away. Fortunately, I was able to get him there to save his life.
The hitchhiker attacked him, stabbed him several times, took his money and then ran off into the countryside. While I was glad the man was alive, it was still terrifying what happened to him. And it was terrifying what might have happened to me if I had given him a ride.
Number Two: The Cabin
I am not like the Unabomber or anything, but I haven’t always liked spending my time around people. For many years of my life, I lived out in a cabin in the middle of the countryside. The cabin itself belonged to an uncle of mine before he passed away. Then, he left it to me in his will and I decided to move into it myself.
The cabin might not be as bad as something you have seen in the Evil Dead movies or anything, but it wasn’t really the greatest thing either. But it was away from people and he also left me some money too. So, for a long time I was able to just quit my job and go live in that cabin.
It is important to know that although this cabin was very far out in the woods, it’s not like it was lost in the middle of nowhere. It was far out in the hills, but there was an old dirt road that led to it. The road did end at the cabin, however, and you couldn’t go any further out in the hills than that unless you went on foot.
I spent a lot of time up there by myself, but I never got lonely. I took care of myself by going into town for anything that I really needed, but trying to live off the land for others things. I hunted for a lot of my food, had a garden for other stuff and only got from town what I couldn’t get this way. But the surrounding property was also, mine and it was nice because rarely, if ever, did anyone ever come out to visit me.
So you could imagine my shock when one night, when I was sitting at a fire and heard a pounding on my front door. I was listening to the radio (AM radio of course, being all that I could really get that far out), and jumped when I heard the pounding. I then didn’t move at first, because I wasn’t sure how I should react. No one had ever come knocking on my door during the day much less at night.
I was cautious. I had been living out in the cabin for so long by this point that I wasn’t scared of the surroundings at all. I never really was afraid of the dark or anything like that, but this was unusual. So, I grabbed my gun before I went toward the door. Even then I approached it very cautiously.
I went up to the door, but I didn’t unlock it right away. I called out, asking who it was that was on the other side of the door. All I heard back was the wind that had been blowing hard through the trees all evening. But before I could just dismiss the knocking, I heard another pounding at the door.
I asked again who it was. I let them know that I wasn’t about to open the door until the person identified themselves. However, once again, there was no answer to it.
I approached the door very carefully. Although I said that I wasn’t going to open it with ID, I had to know what was going on. So, very carefully, I unlocked and then opened the door, allowing it to open up. I kept my gun up, though, just in case there was some danger out there.
There was no one outside of my door. However, when I got a good look at the front of the door, it looked like there was blood on the door. There was also some on the porch.
So, I got concerned. I wondered if there was someone out there who was hurt. But if they were, and they had come looking for help, why would they have run away. It really was only moments from when I heard the second knocking before I opened the door.
There wasn’t much light outside but the moon was almost full. So, I was able to see a little bit outside. Keeping my gun in place, I slowly walked out of the cabin and out in front. I quickly looked all around, trying to see if I could notice someone, anyone out there. But I really didn’t see anything.
I was obviously confused and not sure what I should do. But since I didn’t see anyone anywhere, I decided to go back into my cabin and just lock the door again. It was just way too strange and I didn’t want it to get any stranger.
Right when I was about to open up the door, however, something stopped me. The wind was blowing really hard, but I heard a sound that sounded like a person crying out in the night. So, I stopped and turned around. It was coming from out on the road. I didn’t see anything but it did keep me from going inside the cabin right away.
I decided to slowly walk out to the road to see what the crying might have been. I guess I should have gone inside and gotten a flashlight, but the whole situation had me on edge. I wanted to keep both hands on my shotgun just in case I needed it to protect myself.
My driveway leading to the road was pretty long and I wasn’t walking very quickly down it. I was trying to make sure that I was aware of everything that was going on around me. So I took my time.
About halfway down the driveway, I noticed some movement up ahead of me. I could see that a person was now standing at the end of the driveway. It was nothing but the outline of a person, though, because there wasn’t much light. But it was definitely a person. However, after standing there for a moment, the figure started running toward me at a really fast pace.
I reacted as quickly as I could and I shot a warning shot into the air. This caused the figure to stop so suddenly that it almost tripped and fell over. I figured since I wasn’t able to make out much of his features, he must have not realized that I was carrying a gun on me.
The figure then stood up. Both rather than retreat, it stood there for a few moments, almost as if it was trying to stare me down. And we both stood that way for what seemed like a really long time, but it probably wasn’t very much time at all. And then, rather than come at me or retreat back to the road, the figure took off into the woods.
If he was trying to lead me back into the woods, he didn’t succeed at his goal. There was no way I was going to be going out there in the middle of the night. After looking around me in all directions to see if I could find anything else, I decided I would just go ahead and head back to the cabin.
When I got to the cabin, I once again checked all around it to see if someone was there. I had the idea in my mind that perhaps whoever had been knocking on my door might have been running from the guy that I saw. Or, as far as I knew, it was only one person and he was doing it all himself. I didn’t know, but I wanted to make sure that if someone was hurt, I was going to be able to help them if I could.
After not finding anything nor encountering the man I had seen again, I went back into the cabin. I made sure the door was secured and I closed all of the curtains so no one could see into the cabin. For the rest of the night, I sat in my easy chair with my shotgun right beside me in case I needed it. After a while, the nerves began to fade a bit and I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The following day, I checked outside to see if there was any further sign of the activity from the previous night. There was still blood on the door and there was some blood on the ground as well, but not enough to lead me anywhere. Nothing appeared to be damaged other than minor things that might have been caused by the wind. But I was unable to find anything at all that could help to explain what had gone on the previous night.
That was the only time such an incident took place when I was living in the cabin. I have no explanation for what had gone on. I guess someone might have just been messing with me, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone be that far out in the hills just to mess with someone? I wondered if it might have been someone my uncle had known and had made an enemy of. I wasn’t sure and I never found out anything about what happened that night.
Number Three: "Dog Gone!"
Last Tuesday night, I was waiting for 7 pm so I could load up the truck and head off to the wildlands for a solo hippychick campout. It was my birthday gift to myself, a night of no stress in nature truly relaxing. I've been busting my butt and making serious progress repairing and moving into an old fixer-upper house. Made it thru another year! Thats worth celebrating!
I had to wait until sundown to load the truck, I'm severely allergic to the sun. I wanted to be home before the sun came over the mountain the next morning. This mini-break would be fun! I miss my furbabies if I'm gone longer than that.
I went to the mountains behind my house, just in the foothills. About 3 miles from where I met a mountain lion the hard way. I wasn't alone, even though I was solo. "Barbie" was with me, a pink and silver revolver. It's the wild west out here, everyone has a sidekick and advised me to get one so I did. They laugh at the color but they don't laugh at my target papers at the range.
I set up an extra tent and chairs so it looks like more people are around and I choose the most remote spots I can find. I was debating whether or not to have a campfire and decided not to. Wildfires where I live is my biggest fear of living in this area. If it was winter, absolutely, but this is the beginning of fire season. I stand with Smokey the Bear, I can prevent a fire by not having one! I was looking at the empty circle of chairs around the fire pit and cracked myself up. I was thinking I could ward off weirdos by putting a stuffed animal in each chair and if anyone comes into my camp, start talking with the animals! Be the crazy one people fear in the woods! (Insert Chuckie face here).
I usually have no service in that area but my phone dinged. It was a new Killer Orange Cat video! Purrfect timing! I listened and watched the kitties, in the dark, in the woods, feeling guilty for leaving my furbabies for 12 hours.
Next, I had some munchies from my snack bag and planned what to do next. Play music and draw, smoke a doobie, stretch out and watch for UFOs? I decided a flashlight hike would be fun. I have reflective trail marker ties so I won't get lost.
I had wandered about 20 minutes from my camp. I had a solar yard light so I had light in my camp or could find it easily if I left it. I only use one because bugs like the light. I was far enough away I couldn't see the light, no big deal, trail markers are great.
My first wildlife encounter. I heard crunchy footsteps that were erratic, trotting, stopping and starting, kind of aimless. I thought it might be a fawn but there were no slow heavy footsteps with it. Probably a dog. Too big for a squirrel, too small for a lion or bear. When it got closer, I shined the light on it and it was a coyote. He avoided me and meandered away through the trees. I was glad it wasn't a hungry pack.
I thought I saw a flash of light in the distance but didn't see it again. A little later, I heard crunching footsteps but not close to me. Every sound is loud at night. I stood still because my footsteps could be heard too. I watched and saw a light swinging up and down and heard a man's voice yelling "Bengie". I didn't want to be seen and ducked behind a scrubby plant. I put my hand over the red light flashlight and stayed still. I watched the light travel about 8 trees away and thought he would pass by me but he changed directions and was coming my way.
I stood up and turned my light to white, this encounter could be awkward. He asked if I'd seen his dog. I answered, "No, just a coyote." He got excited and said "That's my dog!" I pointed my light in the direction and the guy hurried off. I decided to get back to camp, I'd had enough adventure. I collected the trail markers as I made my way back for next time.
As I was walking back, I heard the man yelling and walking, half stomping, cussing out the poor coyote going back the way they came.
I listened for a vehicle engine but heard only silence. Somewhere out there, the man and coyote were camping.
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I have lived up in the mountains for a really long time. I am not a hermit or anything like that, though. I have a really nice house in the mountains that I built when I was much younger. I have done all of my work from home because that is what I enjoy. I make enough money that I can do most of what I want and that is pretty important to the story.
I have been going to this café every day for decades. I always have my lunch there. It’s a nice little country café which is never really busy during the day. So I can go there and I can have a nice peaceful lunch before going back home. It takes me about an hour to drive to the café and an hour to drive home, of course. Like me, the café is pretty much sitting by itself in the mountains.
On this particular day, when I arrived, I noticed a customer that I had never seen before. There was something that was very off about him. It is also one of those things that you would have to see to really understand it. I mean, looks can be deceiving, but it had nothing to do with the way the guy looked. It was his presence that was intimidating. The way he carried himself and the way that he behaved gave me a negative impression of him.
After I had gotten my food and was eating and reading a book, the man came over to me and he asked me if I could give him a ride. I definitely didn’t want to but I didn’t even have to say anything. The waitress, who knew me very well, told him that I am usually there for several hours every day reading my book. He would have a much easier time just hitchhiking.
The man seemed fine with that. If asked me if that was right and if I was sure I couldn’t give him a ride and I let him know she was right. I would be here for a lot longer. The man said okay and he went outside.
The waitress told me that he had been in the café for quite a while. He had said some crazy and disturbing things to her. She was worried that if he got into my car with me, I wouldn’t be coming back alive.
I watched for a while as the guy paced back and forth in front of the café. I kept waiting for him to come back in and maybe ask me again and I was hoping he would find a different ride before I left. I had no desire to give the man a ride.
Eventually, a white car stopped by the road. The waitress walked over to me while I was looking outside. We both watched him get into the car after talking to the guy for a moment. Then they drove off.
“Looks like you are okay then,” the waitress commented. “Hopefully we won’t ever see that guy again. He just really made me very uneasy.”
After a while, I stopped thinking about the guy and just went back to reading my book. When it came time for me to go, I left the waitress a really good tip and then I went out and I got into my car.
I did always enjoy my drive even after living in the mountains for as long as I have been. It was a quiet drive and I rarely came across other cars.
So, I was a bit surprised when I was going down the road and I saw a white car sitting on the side of the road. I thought someone might have needed assistance so I pulled up behind the car off the side of the road. It wasn’t until I got out of the car that I figured out that it was the car I saw pick up the hitchhiker.
I was a bit worried, remembering the hitchhiker. But I couldn’t tell if anyone was in the car. So, I walked up to the car very cautiously. When got up to the car, I noticed something that I wished I didn’t see. The driver of the car was laying in a bloody mess in the front seat. The hitchhiker was nowhere to be seen.
At first, I thought the driver was dead but he moved a bit when I got to his window. He was still alive but I wasn’t sure how long he would be if I didn’t try to help him and get to the hospital, which was quite a drive away. Fortunately, I was able to get him there to save his life.
The hitchhiker attacked him, stabbed him several times, took his money and then ran off into the countryside. While I was glad the man was alive, it was still terrifying what happened to him. And it was terrifying what might have happened to me if I had given him a ride.
Number Two: The Cabin
I am not like the Unabomber or anything, but I haven’t always liked spending my time around people. For many years of my life, I lived out in a cabin in the middle of the countryside. The cabin itself belonged to an uncle of mine before he passed away. Then, he left it to me in his will and I decided to move into it myself.
The cabin might not be as bad as something you have seen in the Evil Dead movies or anything, but it wasn’t really the greatest thing either. But it was away from people and he also left me some money too. So, for a long time I was able to just quit my job and go live in that cabin.
It is important to know that although this cabin was very far out in the woods, it’s not like it was lost in the middle of nowhere. It was far out in the hills, but there was an old dirt road that led to it. The road did end at the cabin, however, and you couldn’t go any further out in the hills than that unless you went on foot.
I spent a lot of time up there by myself, but I never got lonely. I took care of myself by going into town for anything that I really needed, but trying to live off the land for others things. I hunted for a lot of my food, had a garden for other stuff and only got from town what I couldn’t get this way. But the surrounding property was also, mine and it was nice because rarely, if ever, did anyone ever come out to visit me.
So you could imagine my shock when one night, when I was sitting at a fire and heard a pounding on my front door. I was listening to the radio (AM radio of course, being all that I could really get that far out), and jumped when I heard the pounding. I then didn’t move at first, because I wasn’t sure how I should react. No one had ever come knocking on my door during the day much less at night.
I was cautious. I had been living out in the cabin for so long by this point that I wasn’t scared of the surroundings at all. I never really was afraid of the dark or anything like that, but this was unusual. So, I grabbed my gun before I went toward the door. Even then I approached it very cautiously.
I went up to the door, but I didn’t unlock it right away. I called out, asking who it was that was on the other side of the door. All I heard back was the wind that had been blowing hard through the trees all evening. But before I could just dismiss the knocking, I heard another pounding at the door.
I asked again who it was. I let them know that I wasn’t about to open the door until the person identified themselves. However, once again, there was no answer to it.
I approached the door very carefully. Although I said that I wasn’t going to open it with ID, I had to know what was going on. So, very carefully, I unlocked and then opened the door, allowing it to open up. I kept my gun up, though, just in case there was some danger out there.
There was no one outside of my door. However, when I got a good look at the front of the door, it looked like there was blood on the door. There was also some on the porch.
So, I got concerned. I wondered if there was someone out there who was hurt. But if they were, and they had come looking for help, why would they have run away. It really was only moments from when I heard the second knocking before I opened the door.
There wasn’t much light outside but the moon was almost full. So, I was able to see a little bit outside. Keeping my gun in place, I slowly walked out of the cabin and out in front. I quickly looked all around, trying to see if I could notice someone, anyone out there. But I really didn’t see anything.
I was obviously confused and not sure what I should do. But since I didn’t see anyone anywhere, I decided to go back into my cabin and just lock the door again. It was just way too strange and I didn’t want it to get any stranger.
Right when I was about to open up the door, however, something stopped me. The wind was blowing really hard, but I heard a sound that sounded like a person crying out in the night. So, I stopped and turned around. It was coming from out on the road. I didn’t see anything but it did keep me from going inside the cabin right away.
I decided to slowly walk out to the road to see what the crying might have been. I guess I should have gone inside and gotten a flashlight, but the whole situation had me on edge. I wanted to keep both hands on my shotgun just in case I needed it to protect myself.
My driveway leading to the road was pretty long and I wasn’t walking very quickly down it. I was trying to make sure that I was aware of everything that was going on around me. So I took my time.
About halfway down the driveway, I noticed some movement up ahead of me. I could see that a person was now standing at the end of the driveway. It was nothing but the outline of a person, though, because there wasn’t much light. But it was definitely a person. However, after standing there for a moment, the figure started running toward me at a really fast pace.
I reacted as quickly as I could and I shot a warning shot into the air. This caused the figure to stop so suddenly that it almost tripped and fell over. I figured since I wasn’t able to make out much of his features, he must have not realized that I was carrying a gun on me.
The figure then stood up. Both rather than retreat, it stood there for a few moments, almost as if it was trying to stare me down. And we both stood that way for what seemed like a really long time, but it probably wasn’t very much time at all. And then, rather than come at me or retreat back to the road, the figure took off into the woods.
If he was trying to lead me back into the woods, he didn’t succeed at his goal. There was no way I was going to be going out there in the middle of the night. After looking around me in all directions to see if I could find anything else, I decided I would just go ahead and head back to the cabin.
When I got to the cabin, I once again checked all around it to see if someone was there. I had the idea in my mind that perhaps whoever had been knocking on my door might have been running from the guy that I saw. Or, as far as I knew, it was only one person and he was doing it all himself. I didn’t know, but I wanted to make sure that if someone was hurt, I was going to be able to help them if I could.
After not finding anything nor encountering the man I had seen again, I went back into the cabin. I made sure the door was secured and I closed all of the curtains so no one could see into the cabin. For the rest of the night, I sat in my easy chair with my shotgun right beside me in case I needed it. After a while, the nerves began to fade a bit and I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The following day, I checked outside to see if there was any further sign of the activity from the previous night. There was still blood on the door and there was some blood on the ground as well, but not enough to lead me anywhere. Nothing appeared to be damaged other than minor things that might have been caused by the wind. But I was unable to find anything at all that could help to explain what had gone on the previous night.
That was the only time such an incident took place when I was living in the cabin. I have no explanation for what had gone on. I guess someone might have just been messing with me, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone be that far out in the hills just to mess with someone? I wondered if it might have been someone my uncle had known and had made an enemy of. I wasn’t sure and I never found out anything about what happened that night.
Number Three: "Dog Gone!"
Last Tuesday night, I was waiting for 7 pm so I could load up the truck and head off to the wildlands for a solo hippychick campout. It was my birthday gift to myself, a night of no stress in nature truly relaxing. I've been busting my butt and making serious progress repairing and moving into an old fixer-upper house. Made it thru another year! Thats worth celebrating!
I had to wait until sundown to load the truck, I'm severely allergic to the sun. I wanted to be home before the sun came over the mountain the next morning. This mini-break would be fun! I miss my furbabies if I'm gone longer than that.
I went to the mountains behind my house, just in the foothills. About 3 miles from where I met a mountain lion the hard way. I wasn't alone, even though I was solo. "Barbie" was with me, a pink and silver revolver. It's the wild west out here, everyone has a sidekick and advised me to get one so I did. They laugh at the color but they don't laugh at my target papers at the range.
I set up an extra tent and chairs so it looks like more people are around and I choose the most remote spots I can find. I was debating whether or not to have a campfire and decided not to. Wildfires where I live is my biggest fear of living in this area. If it was winter, absolutely, but this is the beginning of fire season. I stand with Smokey the Bear, I can prevent a fire by not having one! I was looking at the empty circle of chairs around the fire pit and cracked myself up. I was thinking I could ward off weirdos by putting a stuffed animal in each chair and if anyone comes into my camp, start talking with the animals! Be the crazy one people fear in the woods! (Insert Chuckie face here).
I usually have no service in that area but my phone dinged. It was a new Killer Orange Cat video! Purrfect timing! I listened and watched the kitties, in the dark, in the woods, feeling guilty for leaving my furbabies for 12 hours.
Next, I had some munchies from my snack bag and planned what to do next. Play music and draw, smoke a doobie, stretch out and watch for UFOs? I decided a flashlight hike would be fun. I have reflective trail marker ties so I won't get lost.
I had wandered about 20 minutes from my camp. I had a solar yard light so I had light in my camp or could find it easily if I left it. I only use one because bugs like the light. I was far enough away I couldn't see the light, no big deal, trail markers are great.
My first wildlife encounter. I heard crunchy footsteps that were erratic, trotting, stopping and starting, kind of aimless. I thought it might be a fawn but there were no slow heavy footsteps with it. Probably a dog. Too big for a squirrel, too small for a lion or bear. When it got closer, I shined the light on it and it was a coyote. He avoided me and meandered away through the trees. I was glad it wasn't a hungry pack.
I thought I saw a flash of light in the distance but didn't see it again. A little later, I heard crunching footsteps but not close to me. Every sound is loud at night. I stood still because my footsteps could be heard too. I watched and saw a light swinging up and down and heard a man's voice yelling "Bengie". I didn't want to be seen and ducked behind a scrubby plant. I put my hand over the red light flashlight and stayed still. I watched the light travel about 8 trees away and thought he would pass by me but he changed directions and was coming my way.
I stood up and turned my light to white, this encounter could be awkward. He asked if I'd seen his dog. I answered, "No, just a coyote." He got excited and said "That's my dog!" I pointed my light in the direction and the guy hurried off. I decided to get back to camp, I'd had enough adventure. I collected the trail markers as I made my way back for next time.
As I was walking back, I heard the man yelling and walking, half stomping, cussing out the poor coyote going back the way they came.
I listened for a vehicle engine but heard only silence. Somewhere out there, the man and coyote were camping.
2024.06.06 02:31 Saggy_tits_omnomnom I'm in the process of writing a short novel figured yall might like this
CHAPTER 1
Leroy Williams stands hunched over his bathroom sink. Still groggy, he grabs his worn toothbrush and begins his morning dental routine. Standing in his bathroom mirror was a tall, skinny, and pale man with dark brown hair. His eyes were sunken and baggy, his nose was long, and resembled a beak, he looked exhausted. Still barely awake,he made his way to his kitchen. The cabinets are worn, and the paint has begun to flake off many of the surfaces. He grabs a pen off the counter and shakily marks an X on his calendar under the date May 13th, 1911. Under the dim light of his, what some might describe as disheveled New York City apartment, the floorboards creak with every step on his way to check his ice box. He pulls out 3 eggs and gently lays them on the counter. He grabs a lone package of butter and a rotten smelling slab of beef he quickly tossed into his garbage can.
After a hurried, bland meal of toast and eggs, he heads out the door in his Ill fitted 3 piece suit and Trilby hat. He is dressed in a dark monotone color fitting of the soured look on his rapidly aging face.
His head is pointed down to the sidewalk, and he begins his familiar walk to the offices of the F&B camera company. As he steps out the front door, he's immediately hit by the sulfuric smell from the smog that drowns the city. He makes his way down the busy sidewalk. He contemplated the reason he lived in this often overwhelming city. Leroy hated the blaring horns, loud obnoxious people, and the general filth of living in such an over-populated environment. His mind wandered as he navigated a sea of high strung business men and laborers. He imagined a place isolated and calm. A small cabin in the middle of the wilderness, it was beginning to grow dark as the light reflected a vibrant orange off the surface of the lake. Surrounded by large towering pines, they filled the air with a sweet scent he desperately tried to imagine. Sounds of loons calling were the only thing that could be heard over a quiet crackle of a fire. He lived in this state of ecstasy with a dog lying content by his feet and his wife gently squeezing his arm as they softly rock together on the porch swing. It was almost perfect. The only fault of this dream of his was that no matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine her face.
Almost to the offices, he stops at a small newspaper stand run by a boy no older than 10 standing on a milk crate behind the counter. "Hello, Mr. Williams, we got a must-read today, " the boy said in a high-pitched tone. While reaching into his pocket, he skittishly responded. "Good morning, Stewie," and swiftly exchanged his 2 cents for the newspaper. In one fluid motion, he nodded to the boy, tucked the paper under his arm, and continued on his way to the office. Leroy could see the monolithic brick building that filled him with dred by the very sight of it. Approaching the door, he lets out a deep sigh. He makes his way through the large empty marble lobby and to the elevator manned by Gerrard. Gerrard has worked here for 2 years and has seen Mr. Williams every work day in the time he has been there, yet he knew absolutely nothing about him. They hardly ever talked, and when they did, it was brief good mornings followed by the awkward silence and clanking of the elevators' mechanisms. He is finally brought up to the 13th floor and leaves this particular morning, all without saying a single word to Gerard.
Entering the all too familiar office, Leroy was greeted by the overly friendly John Dowry, the head of advertising. "Goooood morning, Leroy, it's a pleasure to see your smiling face this fine morning," Leroy responded with a slight half-hearted smile and a "Good to see you too John." Leroy was torn on his opinion of John. On one hand, he found his overwhelmingly positive demeanor almost insufferable at times. Other times, he was thankful for him due to the fact that he seemed to be one of the few people in this city that would ever be genuinely happy to see him.
As Leroy made his way to his desk, he felt as if he were invisible in this sea of bustling employees. Eyes that meet with his quickly darted away. Leroy had worked at F&B for 7 years now, but still, familiar faces he had seen day in and day out remained mere strangers. He approached his cluttered desk and sat in his wooden chair. he clicked on his lamp, shining further light onto the staggering mound of paper he was expected to complete. As he dug into his pile of mind-numbing tasks, he felt his eyes grow heavy and his concentration slip. He began tapping his foot in a feeble attempt to keep himself from slipping back into slumber. However, he was not successful. He awoke to a loud thud of a closed fist slamming on his desk inches from his face. Squinting and his vision blurry, he heard a booming voice scream, "Williams, my office now." Leroy threw his head up from the desk that was now covered by a small puddle of drool. Eyes still puffy and red, he swiftly rose from his chair and made way for his boss's office. Leroy approached a large wooden door with a brass plate bearing the name Mr. Owens. With his heart in his stomach, Leroy pushed open the door, revealing a portly, bald man in his early 40s brandishing a thick black mustache above his lip. "Close the door," he bellerd. "Im sorry, sir. I promise it will never happen again."Leroy spoke in a patheticly quiet tone "I don't want your damned apology. I want an explanation. I want a damn good reason to keep you on payroll, and furthermore, I want to know why the hell your production has plummeted so dramatically in the last year." "I... I..." Leroy muttered "Well, Jesus Christ, man, spit it out!" Leroy paused for a second. "I've been having night terrors," Mr. Owens scoffed and mumbled under his breath "you've got to be fucking kidding me" "I'm sorry Mr Owens but it's the honest truth" Mr. Owens paused, clearly frustrated he checked his pocket watch and quickly put it back. He buries his face into the palms of his hands. His elbows braced against the table and he began to rub his forehead with the tips of his fingers as to say I wish someone would relieve me from this migraine sitting in front of me. After letting out a deep sigh, he says, "Get it under control. If your production doesn't rise 15% by the next quarter you should start looking for new work." "I understand, sir." "Back to work, you have a lot of time to make up for," Now, for the first time today, as Leroy left Mr. Owens's office, he'd felt noticed by his peers. All eyes were pointed at Leroy. Most tried not to make it overly obvious, but their presence was felt regardless. After walking back to his desk and traversing the gauntlet of judging eyes, he slouched back into his chair and picked up his pen.
Leroy had put the final document into the binder labeled “complete” for the day. The lights were all off, excluding one that still illuminated his desk. He turned off the light, grabbed his overcoat, and made his way for the stairwell. As he left the offices for the day, he lit a cigarette and began walking to marrco's grocery a small shop just slightly out of the way of his apartment. While walking down the street his ears perked to the sound of gospel music coming from a nearby building. Though he tried to pinpoint the location of the song he couldn't seem to. He could only confirm the music was coming from somewhere ahead of him. The voices sounded angelic, although distant and muffled. He paused for a moment outside the store. leaning against the cold brick wall outside for a few seconds. Still unable to narrow the source of the singing to any specific location he took time to admire the soft singing contrast to the harsh chaotic sounds the city was typically produced. Soon the song that provided him with a much needed respite in this overwhelming and chaotic day slowly faded away.
Not looking to waste any more time Leroy grabbed the few things he knew he would need and took his place in the line to the counter. To his right, he saw an elderly woman hunched over a walking cane. She wore glasses with large thick frames and lenses that were thick as a shot glass. The most striking part of this woman was the clothes she was wearing. She was covered in a large purple robe similar to that a catholic priest would wear during mass. The gown was embroidered with white stitching around the legs were images of deer, birds, flowers and trees the gown looked expertly crafted and much more expensive than someone would expect in this particular neighborhood draped around her neck was a silver rope necklace with a single gold ball hanging from it. It also looked far too expensive to be worn in such an environment.
Leroy set his items on the counter and greeted the cashier. After punching in the items into the cash register the man said, "That will be one dollar and thirty four cents. Rummaging through his pockets Leroy was only able to collect one dollar and three cents to give to the man. Now thoroughly embarrassed, he offered to bring back some of his items to their respective shelves, until a voice chipped in from behind him. "No, you don't have to do anything of the sort" chimed the old woman in the robe. She had already had the missing money in her hand And placed it on the counter before he even had time to interject. “OH no that's really not necessary” said Leroy “I insist all we do is for the good of man” Leroy was slightly taken back by this comment but was nevertheless appreciative “Thank you very much miss” he said stepping away from the counter “You can call me Mrs. Eros” “Mrs. Eros, I appreciate the gesture. I've been having a horrible day, this means a lot”. She flashes him a warm and inviting smile “I do all I can, actually we do all we can”. Reaching into her purse she withdrew a small flier that was neatly hand printed in pen. It read “The Church of Argos come to worship in the loving collective of man all are welcome”. Below that was a small almost childlike doodle of a church and an address, 5542 Booker st. “I would love for you to join us tonight in praise” said the woman in an almost ecstatic tone “I'm sorry but I've no energy today. I appreciate the offer but I have to be heading home.” “OH no worries I completely understand young man we will always be here with arms open”. “Thanks Mrs.Eros” As Leroy was leaving the woman chimed “You're very welcome. But come see us soon with you we will grow to do great things together”
Leroy tucked the flier into his coat pocket. On his walk home he began to replay the encounter in his head over and over. He couldn't help but feel frightened by the encounter with Mrs.Eros something didn't seem right, the general mannerisms of Mrs. Eros seemed foreign to him. It was to Leroy as if she was purposely using a strange cryptic method of speaking to hide an underlying purpose of sinister intent. As these thoughts ran through his head Leroy began to doubt himself. He knew himself better than anyone. He also knew that he could find any excuse necessary to avoid interacting with other people besides the absolutely necessary. Going to some church he had never heard of and mingling with the congregation was, in his mind, far from necessary. He questioned, am I overreacting to the way this woman talked to me? Is there any real, good reason I shouldn't attend her church? What if she's a foreigner and she speaks in a way that is only strange to me? What if church would be good for me, and is what I need to pull myself from this rut? These questions danced in his brain for the rest of the night until eventually, showering, eating and going back to sleep.
CHAPTER 2
Leroy Arose from the lying position on the damp, wooden oak floor. Before him was an observational window surrounded by 3 more walls none of which bore a door or method of escape. Gazing through the window he saw himself alone in a never ending expanse of fields of lavender. He stood looking at the setting sun.
The man in the field wore an expression of bliss and intoxication. Behind him was a figure neither man nor animal; it stood staggering above him at least 9 feet tall, its body covered in dark Grey hair and its knees bent backwards. Below were hooves, however they were obscured from the observer's sight by the flowers of lavender. Its torso resembled that of a man except also covered in hair and his hands being exceptionally long; his head was that of a goat but seemingly Much more predatory. It had eyes nearly resembling that of a human however they appeared empty soulless and with far larger pupils. Atop its head were horns black as night gently curved in a horribly perfect symmetry.
Leroy watched on in horror as the figure slowly began to approach himself in the field so as not to disturb him or draw unwanted attention. Looming over him he slowly began to raise his hands to his neck before abruptly clamping his windpipe completely shut. He struggled for a few seconds, futilely scratching at the arms of the overwhelming beast. His body fell limp and disappeared into the never ending expanse of purple flowers. The creature swiftly cranked its neck to look directly at the helpless observer.
Leroy awoke covered in sweat and gasping for air. He looked at his clock. It was almost time for him to wake up and go to work. He brushed his teeth, made his breakfast and marked the date off the calendar May 20th. Now fitted in his cheap, worn suit he stepped back onto the busy New York sidewalk.
He started his routine, Monday morning walk. as He made his way closer to work he began to hear that familiar choir music, as the music grew louder He located the source. in the middle of a small, nearby plaza was a choir riser populated by nearly 40 people all dressed in familiar purple robes. The robes (just like that of Mrs.Eros) Were embroidered in white showing scenes of nature. Pitched into the grass before them was a banner stretching the length of the risers in large bold letters that read “JOIN US IN WORSHIP - THE CHURCH OF ARGOS CHOIR.” They all held small black song books in their hands on the cover of the books were ten small white circles arranged symmetrical in one larger circle. The choir members stood side by side looking slightly upward as if they were singing to someone standing atop the New York city skyline. More notable than that, each member of this choir wore an expression of joy as if they had truly been elated to sing to a, still groggy, uninterested group of passer byes mostly just trying to get to work. Leroy could not make out the words of the choir. It wasn't English but the singing was Nevertheless harmonious and beautiful. After taking a brief moment to observe he continued on his way. The presence of a choir at 7:15 in the morning was odd but so were many of his other encounters in this monolithic city, he thought little of it.
At a crosswalk one block away from his workplace Leroy heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Williams over here” it was Mrs.Eros in her purple robe. In her left hand was a stack of fliers And in her right was a plate of food wrapped in paper. The old woman approached Leroy. “Me and the rest of the congregation are around the city spreading our word and giving back to the community. Would you care for some food this morning?” “OH no I'm quite alright I really should be going” “Are you sure it's free from the church you really should” before she could finish her sentiment Leroy interpreted. “No I'm fine really I have to be going now” he turned his back walking away Leroy glanced at the woman seeing the annoyed expression left on her face. She looked understandably angry, however Leroy found it hard to care as he had little interest in listening to the religious rambling of an elderly woman before a long day of work. As he stepped through the large glass doors he wondered to himself if he ever did tell Mrs.Eros his surname.
Leroy stepped into the office space. immediately he noticed many of his co workers were at their desks eating a plated breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. one of those people was John Dowry
Leroy approached John and asked “where did you get that food?” It was phrased in a tone far too harsh for the simple question. John noticed this and was visibly taken back by his attitude. “Uhh I got it from some old woman in a purple robe. Why? you want some?” Responded John “um no sorry i was just wondering i saw that woman this morning as well.” “Oh well why didn't you stop, they were giving it out for free you know.” Leroy didn't know how to respond, he certainly didn't want to tell him the truth, that he ignored her just because he didn't want to talk to a woman who had done him a kind deed earlier. Leroy especially didn't want to tell him the deeper lying truth that something seemed off about her and he didn't have any specific evidence to justify his suspicion. He just simply replied “Oh I Didn't know besides I'm not really hungry.” He then awkwardly exited the conversation and walked toward his desk without any further explanation. This behavior was something John was particularly familiar with and had grown to expect from the notoriously strange Leroy Williams.
Leroy sat at his desk observing the scene of the office. Many of the men usually half awake sipping coffee with a blank face around this time were joking amongst themselves. They shared stories of the kind people in robes giving them free food. Some compared their matching pamphlets they had gotten from the generous, friendly, strangers in robes. Leroy remained watchful and unamused.
The time was now 10:30 Leroy stood up, grabbed his tin lunchbox and made his way to the breakroom. He typically sat alone while on break however he very much enjoyed listening to his coworkers ongoing conversations. As an accumulation of years of this practice Leroy knows many interesting tidbits of his coworkers. Many of those aforementioned people would be hard pressed to tell you Leroy's last name. Today sitting near him were John Dowry and Donald Vanderpool. Today these were the two individuals Leroy would make victims of his years-long ongoing eavesdropping campaign. He heard Donald speak first “ You see the assholes in purple running around with sandwiches this morning?” “Yeah, they were handing out breakfast, actually they seemed nice.” “Yeah they're all over the town lately. My wife went to one of their little meetings this weekend and now she won't shut the fuck up about it. She's been pestering me about going with her nonstop now and honestly I'm really considering going just to get her to stop.” “Really? your wife's into that?” “Yeah big time I guess one of her friends convinced her to go now she's obsessed, wears this big purple gown now and everything like she doesn't have anything better to do.” At this point Donald seems visibly upset “I thought you said your wife wasn't religious?” “She's not or at least she wasn't but now it's all she talks about. She goes to church one time and now she's a fanatic. she even got up at 5:30 this morning to go sing in their choir.” John remained contemplating in silence. “I suppose maybe there's something to all of this. I guess I'll have to go see for myself.” The bell rang and their break was over.
Leroy sat under the buzzing lights at his office desk nearly done with his work for the day but with three hours left he began to wonder how one church could, within the matter of a week, go from completely irrelevant to the talk of the town. He had many more questions than answers and Leroy needed answers. He wanted to know how they started what they stood for and why they wore those bright purple robes. He had no reason to view them in any negative light, however he felt deep within himself under the smiling mask lurked something black and sinister.
The bell rang. It was time for him to leave. He had been thinking about this all day; he knew where he was going, 5542 Booker street. Leroy knew if he truly wanted to know for certain if his suspicions, whatever they may be, were true he would have to go to the source.
Walking rather briskly down Booker street he took careful notice of his surroundings. He figured he was still roughly 10 or 12 blocks away. He began to notice small differences in the environment. One example is that the closer he got to this church the number of people wearing robes had grown the closer he got to the church the more of them there were. Another being that many of the houses and apartments within a close proximity of the church had purple curtains hanging in their windows. There were also advertisements scattered around the neighborhood on telephone poles and booths for the church of Argos.
As Leroy continued he began to feel more and more that he was within enemy territory and despite what the signs may say he was not welcomed. Now only two blocks from his dreaded destination nearly all of the people around him were dressed in purple; he also felt every set of eyes looking directly at him.
As the destination began to come into sight he noticed the building was not nearly as intimidating as he had imagined it in his mind; it was a 3 story house that looked newly painted in white.Perched In front of the windows were rows of beautiful flower beds. In those beds were vibrant, sweet smelling, purple flowers.
the door was a large wooden double door with 10 Grey dots on the front symmetrically arranged in a circle in that circle were the words the church of Argos all are welcome
Leroy felt much more comfortable now than he did only moments ago. He no longer held any suspicion of this strange organization; he was finally relieved of his overwhelming anxiety.
Leroy reached his hand out to grab the handle of the large church door when suddenly he heard an ear piercing scream come from behind the doors somewhere deep within the house. His stomach dropped and he retreated his outreached hand from the door. he looked behind him no less than 12 robed men and women stood behind him. Their typical look of bliss and warm inviting smiles had shifted to a look of suppressed rage and mal intent. Leroy pushed through the crowd of robes to the open sidewalk. He sprinted as fast as he could muster for 9 blocks until he felt he was safe and too exhausted to run. After getting a comfortable distance from the place he now knew as the most terrifying place in the city.
He sat on his couch, turned on his radio and tuned it to the local news broadcast. He listened long into the night about an upcoming mayoral election happening within the next 3 weeks.
thanks for reading let me know if you would like to see more or if you have any comments it's my dream in life to have one of my works read on creep cast 😘
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Leroy Williams stands hunched over his bathroom sink. Still groggy, he grabs his worn toothbrush and begins his morning dental routine. Standing in his bathroom mirror was a tall, skinny, and pale man with dark brown hair. His eyes were sunken and baggy, his nose was long, and resembled a beak, he looked exhausted. Still barely awake,he made his way to his kitchen. The cabinets are worn, and the paint has begun to flake off many of the surfaces. He grabs a pen off the counter and shakily marks an X on his calendar under the date May 13th, 1911. Under the dim light of his, what some might describe as disheveled New York City apartment, the floorboards creak with every step on his way to check his ice box. He pulls out 3 eggs and gently lays them on the counter. He grabs a lone package of butter and a rotten smelling slab of beef he quickly tossed into his garbage can.
After a hurried, bland meal of toast and eggs, he heads out the door in his Ill fitted 3 piece suit and Trilby hat. He is dressed in a dark monotone color fitting of the soured look on his rapidly aging face.
His head is pointed down to the sidewalk, and he begins his familiar walk to the offices of the F&B camera company. As he steps out the front door, he's immediately hit by the sulfuric smell from the smog that drowns the city. He makes his way down the busy sidewalk. He contemplated the reason he lived in this often overwhelming city. Leroy hated the blaring horns, loud obnoxious people, and the general filth of living in such an over-populated environment. His mind wandered as he navigated a sea of high strung business men and laborers. He imagined a place isolated and calm. A small cabin in the middle of the wilderness, it was beginning to grow dark as the light reflected a vibrant orange off the surface of the lake. Surrounded by large towering pines, they filled the air with a sweet scent he desperately tried to imagine. Sounds of loons calling were the only thing that could be heard over a quiet crackle of a fire. He lived in this state of ecstasy with a dog lying content by his feet and his wife gently squeezing his arm as they softly rock together on the porch swing. It was almost perfect. The only fault of this dream of his was that no matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine her face.
Almost to the offices, he stops at a small newspaper stand run by a boy no older than 10 standing on a milk crate behind the counter. "Hello, Mr. Williams, we got a must-read today, " the boy said in a high-pitched tone. While reaching into his pocket, he skittishly responded. "Good morning, Stewie," and swiftly exchanged his 2 cents for the newspaper. In one fluid motion, he nodded to the boy, tucked the paper under his arm, and continued on his way to the office. Leroy could see the monolithic brick building that filled him with dred by the very sight of it. Approaching the door, he lets out a deep sigh. He makes his way through the large empty marble lobby and to the elevator manned by Gerrard. Gerrard has worked here for 2 years and has seen Mr. Williams every work day in the time he has been there, yet he knew absolutely nothing about him. They hardly ever talked, and when they did, it was brief good mornings followed by the awkward silence and clanking of the elevators' mechanisms. He is finally brought up to the 13th floor and leaves this particular morning, all without saying a single word to Gerard.
Entering the all too familiar office, Leroy was greeted by the overly friendly John Dowry, the head of advertising. "Goooood morning, Leroy, it's a pleasure to see your smiling face this fine morning," Leroy responded with a slight half-hearted smile and a "Good to see you too John." Leroy was torn on his opinion of John. On one hand, he found his overwhelmingly positive demeanor almost insufferable at times. Other times, he was thankful for him due to the fact that he seemed to be one of the few people in this city that would ever be genuinely happy to see him.
As Leroy made his way to his desk, he felt as if he were invisible in this sea of bustling employees. Eyes that meet with his quickly darted away. Leroy had worked at F&B for 7 years now, but still, familiar faces he had seen day in and day out remained mere strangers. He approached his cluttered desk and sat in his wooden chair. he clicked on his lamp, shining further light onto the staggering mound of paper he was expected to complete. As he dug into his pile of mind-numbing tasks, he felt his eyes grow heavy and his concentration slip. He began tapping his foot in a feeble attempt to keep himself from slipping back into slumber. However, he was not successful. He awoke to a loud thud of a closed fist slamming on his desk inches from his face. Squinting and his vision blurry, he heard a booming voice scream, "Williams, my office now." Leroy threw his head up from the desk that was now covered by a small puddle of drool. Eyes still puffy and red, he swiftly rose from his chair and made way for his boss's office. Leroy approached a large wooden door with a brass plate bearing the name Mr. Owens. With his heart in his stomach, Leroy pushed open the door, revealing a portly, bald man in his early 40s brandishing a thick black mustache above his lip. "Close the door," he bellerd. "Im sorry, sir. I promise it will never happen again."Leroy spoke in a patheticly quiet tone "I don't want your damned apology. I want an explanation. I want a damn good reason to keep you on payroll, and furthermore, I want to know why the hell your production has plummeted so dramatically in the last year." "I... I..." Leroy muttered "Well, Jesus Christ, man, spit it out!" Leroy paused for a second. "I've been having night terrors," Mr. Owens scoffed and mumbled under his breath "you've got to be fucking kidding me" "I'm sorry Mr Owens but it's the honest truth" Mr. Owens paused, clearly frustrated he checked his pocket watch and quickly put it back. He buries his face into the palms of his hands. His elbows braced against the table and he began to rub his forehead with the tips of his fingers as to say I wish someone would relieve me from this migraine sitting in front of me. After letting out a deep sigh, he says, "Get it under control. If your production doesn't rise 15% by the next quarter you should start looking for new work." "I understand, sir." "Back to work, you have a lot of time to make up for," Now, for the first time today, as Leroy left Mr. Owens's office, he'd felt noticed by his peers. All eyes were pointed at Leroy. Most tried not to make it overly obvious, but their presence was felt regardless. After walking back to his desk and traversing the gauntlet of judging eyes, he slouched back into his chair and picked up his pen.
Leroy had put the final document into the binder labeled “complete” for the day. The lights were all off, excluding one that still illuminated his desk. He turned off the light, grabbed his overcoat, and made his way for the stairwell. As he left the offices for the day, he lit a cigarette and began walking to marrco's grocery a small shop just slightly out of the way of his apartment. While walking down the street his ears perked to the sound of gospel music coming from a nearby building. Though he tried to pinpoint the location of the song he couldn't seem to. He could only confirm the music was coming from somewhere ahead of him. The voices sounded angelic, although distant and muffled. He paused for a moment outside the store. leaning against the cold brick wall outside for a few seconds. Still unable to narrow the source of the singing to any specific location he took time to admire the soft singing contrast to the harsh chaotic sounds the city was typically produced. Soon the song that provided him with a much needed respite in this overwhelming and chaotic day slowly faded away.
Not looking to waste any more time Leroy grabbed the few things he knew he would need and took his place in the line to the counter. To his right, he saw an elderly woman hunched over a walking cane. She wore glasses with large thick frames and lenses that were thick as a shot glass. The most striking part of this woman was the clothes she was wearing. She was covered in a large purple robe similar to that a catholic priest would wear during mass. The gown was embroidered with white stitching around the legs were images of deer, birds, flowers and trees the gown looked expertly crafted and much more expensive than someone would expect in this particular neighborhood draped around her neck was a silver rope necklace with a single gold ball hanging from it. It also looked far too expensive to be worn in such an environment.
Leroy set his items on the counter and greeted the cashier. After punching in the items into the cash register the man said, "That will be one dollar and thirty four cents. Rummaging through his pockets Leroy was only able to collect one dollar and three cents to give to the man. Now thoroughly embarrassed, he offered to bring back some of his items to their respective shelves, until a voice chipped in from behind him. "No, you don't have to do anything of the sort" chimed the old woman in the robe. She had already had the missing money in her hand And placed it on the counter before he even had time to interject. “OH no that's really not necessary” said Leroy “I insist all we do is for the good of man” Leroy was slightly taken back by this comment but was nevertheless appreciative “Thank you very much miss” he said stepping away from the counter “You can call me Mrs. Eros” “Mrs. Eros, I appreciate the gesture. I've been having a horrible day, this means a lot”. She flashes him a warm and inviting smile “I do all I can, actually we do all we can”. Reaching into her purse she withdrew a small flier that was neatly hand printed in pen. It read “The Church of Argos come to worship in the loving collective of man all are welcome”. Below that was a small almost childlike doodle of a church and an address, 5542 Booker st. “I would love for you to join us tonight in praise” said the woman in an almost ecstatic tone “I'm sorry but I've no energy today. I appreciate the offer but I have to be heading home.” “OH no worries I completely understand young man we will always be here with arms open”. “Thanks Mrs.Eros” As Leroy was leaving the woman chimed “You're very welcome. But come see us soon with you we will grow to do great things together”
Leroy tucked the flier into his coat pocket. On his walk home he began to replay the encounter in his head over and over. He couldn't help but feel frightened by the encounter with Mrs.Eros something didn't seem right, the general mannerisms of Mrs. Eros seemed foreign to him. It was to Leroy as if she was purposely using a strange cryptic method of speaking to hide an underlying purpose of sinister intent. As these thoughts ran through his head Leroy began to doubt himself. He knew himself better than anyone. He also knew that he could find any excuse necessary to avoid interacting with other people besides the absolutely necessary. Going to some church he had never heard of and mingling with the congregation was, in his mind, far from necessary. He questioned, am I overreacting to the way this woman talked to me? Is there any real, good reason I shouldn't attend her church? What if she's a foreigner and she speaks in a way that is only strange to me? What if church would be good for me, and is what I need to pull myself from this rut? These questions danced in his brain for the rest of the night until eventually, showering, eating and going back to sleep.
CHAPTER 2
Leroy Arose from the lying position on the damp, wooden oak floor. Before him was an observational window surrounded by 3 more walls none of which bore a door or method of escape. Gazing through the window he saw himself alone in a never ending expanse of fields of lavender. He stood looking at the setting sun.
The man in the field wore an expression of bliss and intoxication. Behind him was a figure neither man nor animal; it stood staggering above him at least 9 feet tall, its body covered in dark Grey hair and its knees bent backwards. Below were hooves, however they were obscured from the observer's sight by the flowers of lavender. Its torso resembled that of a man except also covered in hair and his hands being exceptionally long; his head was that of a goat but seemingly Much more predatory. It had eyes nearly resembling that of a human however they appeared empty soulless and with far larger pupils. Atop its head were horns black as night gently curved in a horribly perfect symmetry.
Leroy watched on in horror as the figure slowly began to approach himself in the field so as not to disturb him or draw unwanted attention. Looming over him he slowly began to raise his hands to his neck before abruptly clamping his windpipe completely shut. He struggled for a few seconds, futilely scratching at the arms of the overwhelming beast. His body fell limp and disappeared into the never ending expanse of purple flowers. The creature swiftly cranked its neck to look directly at the helpless observer.
Leroy awoke covered in sweat and gasping for air. He looked at his clock. It was almost time for him to wake up and go to work. He brushed his teeth, made his breakfast and marked the date off the calendar May 20th. Now fitted in his cheap, worn suit he stepped back onto the busy New York sidewalk.
He started his routine, Monday morning walk. as He made his way closer to work he began to hear that familiar choir music, as the music grew louder He located the source. in the middle of a small, nearby plaza was a choir riser populated by nearly 40 people all dressed in familiar purple robes. The robes (just like that of Mrs.Eros) Were embroidered in white showing scenes of nature. Pitched into the grass before them was a banner stretching the length of the risers in large bold letters that read “JOIN US IN WORSHIP - THE CHURCH OF ARGOS CHOIR.” They all held small black song books in their hands on the cover of the books were ten small white circles arranged symmetrical in one larger circle. The choir members stood side by side looking slightly upward as if they were singing to someone standing atop the New York city skyline. More notable than that, each member of this choir wore an expression of joy as if they had truly been elated to sing to a, still groggy, uninterested group of passer byes mostly just trying to get to work. Leroy could not make out the words of the choir. It wasn't English but the singing was Nevertheless harmonious and beautiful. After taking a brief moment to observe he continued on his way. The presence of a choir at 7:15 in the morning was odd but so were many of his other encounters in this monolithic city, he thought little of it.
At a crosswalk one block away from his workplace Leroy heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Williams over here” it was Mrs.Eros in her purple robe. In her left hand was a stack of fliers And in her right was a plate of food wrapped in paper. The old woman approached Leroy. “Me and the rest of the congregation are around the city spreading our word and giving back to the community. Would you care for some food this morning?” “OH no I'm quite alright I really should be going” “Are you sure it's free from the church you really should” before she could finish her sentiment Leroy interpreted. “No I'm fine really I have to be going now” he turned his back walking away Leroy glanced at the woman seeing the annoyed expression left on her face. She looked understandably angry, however Leroy found it hard to care as he had little interest in listening to the religious rambling of an elderly woman before a long day of work. As he stepped through the large glass doors he wondered to himself if he ever did tell Mrs.Eros his surname.
Leroy stepped into the office space. immediately he noticed many of his co workers were at their desks eating a plated breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. one of those people was John Dowry
Leroy approached John and asked “where did you get that food?” It was phrased in a tone far too harsh for the simple question. John noticed this and was visibly taken back by his attitude. “Uhh I got it from some old woman in a purple robe. Why? you want some?” Responded John “um no sorry i was just wondering i saw that woman this morning as well.” “Oh well why didn't you stop, they were giving it out for free you know.” Leroy didn't know how to respond, he certainly didn't want to tell him the truth, that he ignored her just because he didn't want to talk to a woman who had done him a kind deed earlier. Leroy especially didn't want to tell him the deeper lying truth that something seemed off about her and he didn't have any specific evidence to justify his suspicion. He just simply replied “Oh I Didn't know besides I'm not really hungry.” He then awkwardly exited the conversation and walked toward his desk without any further explanation. This behavior was something John was particularly familiar with and had grown to expect from the notoriously strange Leroy Williams.
Leroy sat at his desk observing the scene of the office. Many of the men usually half awake sipping coffee with a blank face around this time were joking amongst themselves. They shared stories of the kind people in robes giving them free food. Some compared their matching pamphlets they had gotten from the generous, friendly, strangers in robes. Leroy remained watchful and unamused.
The time was now 10:30 Leroy stood up, grabbed his tin lunchbox and made his way to the breakroom. He typically sat alone while on break however he very much enjoyed listening to his coworkers ongoing conversations. As an accumulation of years of this practice Leroy knows many interesting tidbits of his coworkers. Many of those aforementioned people would be hard pressed to tell you Leroy's last name. Today sitting near him were John Dowry and Donald Vanderpool. Today these were the two individuals Leroy would make victims of his years-long ongoing eavesdropping campaign. He heard Donald speak first “ You see the assholes in purple running around with sandwiches this morning?” “Yeah, they were handing out breakfast, actually they seemed nice.” “Yeah they're all over the town lately. My wife went to one of their little meetings this weekend and now she won't shut the fuck up about it. She's been pestering me about going with her nonstop now and honestly I'm really considering going just to get her to stop.” “Really? your wife's into that?” “Yeah big time I guess one of her friends convinced her to go now she's obsessed, wears this big purple gown now and everything like she doesn't have anything better to do.” At this point Donald seems visibly upset “I thought you said your wife wasn't religious?” “She's not or at least she wasn't but now it's all she talks about. She goes to church one time and now she's a fanatic. she even got up at 5:30 this morning to go sing in their choir.” John remained contemplating in silence. “I suppose maybe there's something to all of this. I guess I'll have to go see for myself.” The bell rang and their break was over.
Leroy sat under the buzzing lights at his office desk nearly done with his work for the day but with three hours left he began to wonder how one church could, within the matter of a week, go from completely irrelevant to the talk of the town. He had many more questions than answers and Leroy needed answers. He wanted to know how they started what they stood for and why they wore those bright purple robes. He had no reason to view them in any negative light, however he felt deep within himself under the smiling mask lurked something black and sinister.
The bell rang. It was time for him to leave. He had been thinking about this all day; he knew where he was going, 5542 Booker street. Leroy knew if he truly wanted to know for certain if his suspicions, whatever they may be, were true he would have to go to the source.
Walking rather briskly down Booker street he took careful notice of his surroundings. He figured he was still roughly 10 or 12 blocks away. He began to notice small differences in the environment. One example is that the closer he got to this church the number of people wearing robes had grown the closer he got to the church the more of them there were. Another being that many of the houses and apartments within a close proximity of the church had purple curtains hanging in their windows. There were also advertisements scattered around the neighborhood on telephone poles and booths for the church of Argos.
As Leroy continued he began to feel more and more that he was within enemy territory and despite what the signs may say he was not welcomed. Now only two blocks from his dreaded destination nearly all of the people around him were dressed in purple; he also felt every set of eyes looking directly at him.
As the destination began to come into sight he noticed the building was not nearly as intimidating as he had imagined it in his mind; it was a 3 story house that looked newly painted in white.Perched In front of the windows were rows of beautiful flower beds. In those beds were vibrant, sweet smelling, purple flowers.
the door was a large wooden double door with 10 Grey dots on the front symmetrically arranged in a circle in that circle were the words the church of Argos all are welcome
Leroy felt much more comfortable now than he did only moments ago. He no longer held any suspicion of this strange organization; he was finally relieved of his overwhelming anxiety.
Leroy reached his hand out to grab the handle of the large church door when suddenly he heard an ear piercing scream come from behind the doors somewhere deep within the house. His stomach dropped and he retreated his outreached hand from the door. he looked behind him no less than 12 robed men and women stood behind him. Their typical look of bliss and warm inviting smiles had shifted to a look of suppressed rage and mal intent. Leroy pushed through the crowd of robes to the open sidewalk. He sprinted as fast as he could muster for 9 blocks until he felt he was safe and too exhausted to run. After getting a comfortable distance from the place he now knew as the most terrifying place in the city.
He sat on his couch, turned on his radio and tuned it to the local news broadcast. He listened long into the night about an upcoming mayoral election happening within the next 3 weeks.
thanks for reading let me know if you would like to see more or if you have any comments it's my dream in life to have one of my works read on creep cast 😘
2024.06.06 01:54 Bobbybobseger Scary Book, first draft.
This is a book I started writing in like 2021 and stopped working on until recently. I'd love some feedback on whether I should continue with it or not, please let me know what you think.
Also keep in mind this is a first draft, and I am no Stephen King.
Intro/Chapter One
The Jeep pulled up to John’s Gas and Grocery, the decades-old building was little more than a glorified Grocery outlet and petrol pumps that had to be from the mid-eighties. He braved the cold, pulling the collar of the well-used coat against the wind. A stereotypical ding-dong sounded when he opened the door, boots squelching on the false tile flooring. He nodded to the old man at the register, who merely looked up from a leather-bound book. Markus knew exactly what he needed, he grabbed a cart for all the essentials: three cases of beer, one box of twinkies, one box of ding-dongs, and his favorite, Oatmeal cream pies which he’d grabbed several boxes of. He grabbed the fattiest meat the small store had as well, the ancient old remedy of greasy food for hangovers.
“Well I appreciate the warning, but I don’t really believe in the whole ‘bigfoot’ thing,” Markus intercepted, using his fingers to quote bigfoot. “Have a good night, Mr. Raymond.”
“One, three, five, six, seven…” Markus quietly counted the empty bottles stacking up around the chair which sat next to the warm fireplace. “A reckon I’ve earned one more, or a few,” he told the walls, as he raised a bottle in salute to himself. The next thing he remembers was waking up in the shallow cot, rolling over to see the time on his cellphone which was little more than a clock in the wilderness. “3:30.” The words rattled out of his mouth like a mummy. As soon as he lay his head back on the pillow, the world spun around him and he heaved himself out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom, narrowly making it to the toilet before projectile vomiting violently. The unpleasant mix of preservative pastry treats and cheap alcohol filled his taste buds as they had two hours earlier. Markus awoke on the cold hard ground of the bathroom sometime later, the sun just starting to peek over the trees of the late winter morning. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, something that felt like watching a car come barreling towards you while you sat in your still parked car, time seemed to slow moments before the collision.
Once coming back to reality, Markus decided he’d better go out and cut some fresh wood. He’d seen an old ax in the shed, he’d cut enough to last the whole winter and stack it up on the side of the cabin. He was determined to exert physical effort now and not have to later. The ax had to have been from the sixties or seventies, it was practically ancient. The old steel was slightly rusted and the handle, a hardwood with a slight curve, he figured it was probably from a German manufacturer. At some distant point, he’d been in love with making knives. He used his woodworking skills to make handles for the full tang blades. “Always full tang, anything less is cheap garbage,” his metal shop teacher’s voice rang in his ears. Those were the days when life was simple. The biggest worry he had was how he was going to play hooky so he could go up Rock Canyon with his buddies. They’d studied the Canyon, after all, it was where prolific serial killer Ted Bundy killed some of his victims.
Blood-curdling screams of a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, Markus swung around with the ax clutched to his chest, ready to chop for his own life. Slowly and cautiously striding forward, scanning the trees for any sign of duress Markus made his way into the shaded forest. He came upon a sight, something brown crumpled on the frozen earth. The closer he got, the more sense it made. White antlers blended with the backdrop of snow, invisible from a distance. Blood soaked the white powder around the unmoving beast, it was a brutal sight Markus had only seen in nature documentaries. Using the head of the ax, Markus turned to the head of the murdered deer, its throat ripped out clean. Blood still poured from the open wound, staining the fur a sickly onyx. “Cougar..” Markus carefully scanned his surroundings, before setting his eyes back on the buck. He’d never been hunting, but it was on his bucket list. He’d always wanted a nice rack to hang up on his office wall when he finally had enough money to buy a house with an office. He took a mental note to come back later with a saw and collect the bounty, approximately fifty feet due northeast of the Cabin.
Throwing a match on the kindling, flame burst to life, light dancing on the dark corners of the Cabin. The uneasy feeling had steadily been growing, something dark, something mysterious, something...Unknown.
Chapter Three: The visitor
“Come out Markie. Come out to me baby,” Elizabeth’s voice rang out, echoing from all around. Markus was blankly facing his bedroom door, but quickly turned in all directions looking for the voice. His eyes searched frantically, scanning everywhere until he saw a dark shape beyond the living room window, standing in the frozen earth with arms outstretched. Nothing but a silhouette in the dark, Markus ran for the front door to meet with the dark shape that couldn’t possibly be her. The harder he ran the further to the front door became, pushing his physical limits until his lungs felt like molten rock. If you could just get there, just hold his dear Eliza, everything would be alright. He could come home, make pancakes for her and their beautiful little Judy as small flakes of snow fell outside. He could find a new job that paid more and gave him more time at home with them...He could make things alright.
The door slowly opened, letting in the cold night air, just as it gently touched the wall, coming to full dilation he almost flew from the building, falling on his hands and knees, the icy ground scratching up his hands and knees. The pain was irrelevant, he had to get to his Eliza at all costs. He looked up, her white nightgown shining in the moonlight. Standing in front of him was what looked like his beloved wife, but it wasn’t Elizabeth. It was some misformed specter, something unnatural and mutated from a personal hell. He stared, looking at the grotesque representation of his wife, her nose had been chewed off, leaving nothing but a bloody nasal cavity, bits of cartilage and skin hanging off of it. Her right iris seemed to be stuck in the corner of her eye, trying to come to focus in front of her, red and bloody. Her skin was an ashy gray, withered and rotten from decades gone past. Her white gown made the skin of the creature look more off color than it probably was. The smell of death and rotten meat filled his nostrils. The false Elizabeth reached out her hand to caress his cheek, “Come home Markie, “ Blood and bile pouring from her mouth, “Come home,” A dark, devilish voice seemed to slither out of her mouth past the blood, the black liquid covering her white night gown in the moonlight. The voice that was hers and not hers at all the same time, rattled his brain, making him feel an internal earthquake in his head. Her outstretched fingers looked like gray rotten carrots, wrinkled past the point of recognition, the knuckles sticking out of the flesh like giant tumors, fingernails that had more of a resemblance to claws than actual nails. Slowly, the creature's Icy cold fingers gently make contact with his face, gently brushing his cheek.
Markus sat up in his cot screaming, soaking with sweat as if he’d gone swimming. Savagely scanning the room, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. It had been a dream, some awful rendition of his mind. Markus bent his knees up, resting his forehead on them and wrapping his arms around everything, he stayed in an upright fetal position until the first signs of light breached the windows. Convinced he’d never sleep again, he stumbled out into the living area and straight to the coffee maker he’d brought.
Markus sat in his lawn chair perched on the porch, sipping coffee in the cold, still morning. He hadn’t noticed the small white animal camouflaged in the snow until the caffeine had taken hold and he was able to clear his eyes of the night's salty sweat from constantly rubbing them. Curiously, he arose and approached the small crumpled fluff on the ground. “Peter cotton tail would be wise to stay out of Mr. McGregor’s garden. The cougar might catch you,” Markus said to the small rabbit who lay dead on the ice. He picked it up by the back foot, wishing for some good luck but somehow knowing he was far from it. The bloody fur stuck to the morning freeze, making a sick ripping sound as he pulled it upwards. “Lord..” Markus mumbled as the animal slowly spun by its foot. Whatever had gotten the little thing has disemboweled it, using scalpel and surgeon-like precision to cut from the jugular down the length of the body. Markus could see the entrails still intact, thanks to the freezing temperatures everything had hardened in place overnight. Crusted and Frozen blood hung onto the rabbit like a tick, even as Markus gently walked deep into the tree line. Tossing the dead animal into a bush some ten feet away, it landed with a solid thud. Markus returned to the crime scene, frozen blood still staining the white earth. “What kind of animal kills a rabbit like this and just leaves it? It had to have been that cougar, and something spooked it off. Right? Yeah, that’s it. Maybe something bigger, like a bear.” Markus knew he was lying to himself but just to be sure, he searched the area for tracks. Hopeful in finding giant cat prints, he found nothing but his own. There wasn’t even a sign of rabbit tracks, a phenomenon completely unnatural, however Markus chalked it up to sleep exhaustion and too much alcohol the night before. That was the only explanation.
“In the forrest. Have you seen anything?” John’s eyes seemed to pierce Markus’s soul. “I mean, the was a dead buck, and then this morning the was a dead rabbit.” Markus replied, as if he were on some wildlife observation trip. “You’re holding out on me, young man,” John said with an eir of scolding. Markus chuckled, “Young man? John i’m thirty-two.”
“And to me you’ll always be a young man. So what of the trees?”
Markus felt as though John was attempting to take him under his wing as a new born robin. “I heard a woman scream in the woods, while I was chopping kindle. Figured it must have been a cougar,” Markus said. “Mmmm,” John hummed. “Come for more cheep beer than?”
Markus was borderline offended, “What of it? I could drive into town if you’d like, buy my drinks there.”
“You are welcome to do as you please, Mark. I was talking about getting something a little nicer though. I could swing by after I close up, bring some food and something to drink that settles a little easier than off brand beer. Be around at 8:30?”
“Woah, whats the occasion?” Markus teased the old man, wondering if John thought they were long lost friends.
“No occasion, I knew Gina. I’d like to come see the old place, if you’d be alike to that.”
“How’d you know I was related to Gina?” Markus asked narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“I have lived in this town for sixty-five years. I remember when that Cabin was built, a matter of fact I worked at the hardware store when your grands’ would come in for supplies. I was only fourteen or fifteen at the time. After the town started to dry up in the seventies, the store shut her doors for good.” John seemed to stare into the distance, reminiscing about years gone past.
Markus seemed somewhat surprised, “I had no idea there was anything more than your store out here. What happened to the town?”
“Well a combination of things make the town die, they were supposed to build a sub-highway that came right through here. After they decided to move it south, travelers stopped coming through this way. Thats the reason I tell every traveler that comes through here.”
Markus Mused, “So what else killed the town, and why is your store still here?”
“Well I get just enough people come through to keep my doors open, usually old timers like myself that know a short cut around the city. That or people looking for a true backwoods adventure. I always tell them to move on, this isn’t the kind of place they want to spend the night, It can be hostile you know.”
“I see. But you only answered one of my questions.” Markus seemed to be prying for something John was pretending wasn’t there.
“As I said Mark, these woods can be hostile. As you’ve seen, theres things in these woods you don’t want to cross. Some travelers listen, some don’t, and some aren’t again seen after they leave these door.”
“Ah, I see. You’re going to kill me then,” Markus said with a wink. John chuckled, “I haven’t quite made up my mind on that.”
“Well in that case, i’ll take fifteen on the pump,” Markus smiled for the first time in a long time, he thought it may have been weeks, maybe even months since he had really smiled.
Markus seemed puzzled, this seemed like prime real estate. “Why hasn’t anyone else ever build here?”
“Many have tried and have failed. You can still find abandoned materials or sometimes foundation if you look hard enough in the right places. How Gina and Frank ever got this place built and habitibal is nothing short of a miracle.”
Markus seemed slightly confused, and he wondered if it was because of lack of knowledge or the healthy buzz he was gaining from the top shelf alcohol. “So all these people just abandoned their properties? It couldn’t be the winters, I mean it’s bitter cold out here but not uninhabitable. The summers are probably quite pleasant...The wild life? No, they say Bears and Cougars would just as well leave you alone. Maybe it was economic hardship, and they bared through long enough to finally get it completely built.” Markus seemed to be using vocal deductive reasoning at this point, rather than for conversation.
“As I said, some believe these woods to be cursed. But as I recall, you don’t believe in Bigfoot. Isn’t that right?” John seemed to tease Mark who felt like he was gently swaying with the breeze. John didn’t seemed to be phased by the liquor at all though, it made Markus wonder if he was a lightweight after all.
“Right, I don’t believe because there isn’t such thing.” Markus said, with an eir of matter-of-fact. “Mmmm,” John mummed again. “But you believe in Gigantopithicus, no?”
Markus stammered, “Giganto-what-icus? John, this alcohol is weighing on me, you’re gonna have to make sense.”
John smiled warmly, “Gigantopithicus. It was a large ape-like animal that went extinct a few thousand years ago, native to the same area’s people claim to see Bigfoot. Do you think it’s possible a small population survived extinction? Or perhaps stories of the beasts when they existed amongs men survived through generations of story telling. What do you think, Mark?” Markus stared at John, peicing together what he said. It actually made sense to him though, if there had really been a gigantic ape like creature that roamed the earth, wouldn’t either option be possible?
“Or perhaps the werewolf, who some speculate originated by what’s known as ‘werewolf syndrome.’ A normal man, like you and I, but he grows hair on every inch of his body, catches something like rabies and makes him go, well, rabid.” John seemed like he was trying to get a point across, Markus just didn’t know what.
“So you’re trying to tell me, I giant ape and a rabid hairy guy are running around out here?” Markus said, confusion marking his tipsy face.
“I think you missing the point son, the point is every myth has an origin. Some are more real than you’d like they could be.” John started to grow serious.
“I knew they wouldn’t find her, Markus. They never find the lost in these woods. Why didn’t you come to aid?” John asked.
“I know I should have. It would have been the right thing to do, and Gina deserved it. I guess the reason isn’t because of her, I’m resentful to the rest of her family.” Markus started to grow cold, starting from his soul.
“You know, family is all we have. It may be worth making amends before it’s too late.”
Markus thought about these words from John, he was right. Not about his fathers side of the family but about the family he’s created with Elizabeth and Judy. Elizabeth, Markus visibly shivered, remembering his dream.
“You’re right. But are they still family if they pretend like you don’t exist? And then the only time you do exist is when you’re the butt of their joke? I’m sorry, I just don’t believe they’re anything more than a gene pool to me. But Elizabeth and Judy, they’re what matters.” Markus could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, remembering going to Gina’s and Noah, his uncle, telling the then eight year old Markus to sit down and shut the hell up or so help him. Then there was the time at the family Christmas party he sat on the outskirts of the room, ignored by all, he hadn’t even wanted to go but his mother thought it was important for him to try and exist to that side of the family. Another stretch of awkward silence followed, both men pretended like it didn’t exist by sipping on their liquor.
Markus seemed confused, “Are you sure? Your company has been really nice, and I could use my friends right now.”
“I’ll come back in a few days, probably sometime in the morning…” John trailed off, staring into the tree line.
Chapter Four: Hunting
Within a split second, Markus was on the floor reaching under the bed, pulling out a long black case. He hadn’t seen the gun case but he knew his grandmother well enough to know that there was a rifle or perhaps a shotgun under the bed and a handgun, most likely a 40. In the closet or nightstand.
He fumbled with the zipper, KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Someone was pounding at the door of the cabin, he through the cover of the case open and pulled out a B.R.O AR-15 and a full magazine. Even in his impending doom, all he could think was, “Dang. Grammy is packing full heat.” Even while he loaded the weapon he mused at the beautiful firearm. Blacked out, pistol grip with a combo laser and X20 scope. Markus had shot a gun a few times but had never really been hunting before. His mind glimpsed back to his teenage years when a friend had taken him out to their farm and shot doves with a 12 gauge. He got so frustrated, it seemed impossible to shoot those tiny birds while twenty feet in the air, making emergency serpentine maneuvers.
Markus took a deep breath and exhaled, lowering the rifle. He walked over to the door and opened it, in the doorway stood a man, no taller than five foot nine, dressed in designer winter gear, and a woman behind him, meeting the same standards only slightly shorter. She was pretty, long blonde hair well taken care of, and probably a whole pallet of makeup on. The man had a five o’clock shadow, but Markus could tell he was usually clean-shaven. Markus could only think, you have GOT to be kidding me.
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Also keep in mind this is a first draft, and I am no Stephen King.
Intro/Chapter One
I walked down the alabaster hall, fluorescent lights flickering as I approach the exit. It’d been nine months since I’ve seen the outside of the compound, I knew life would never be the same but I had to try to live to some amount of normalcy again. I’d already gathered my belongings from the security room at the northwest of the building. I had stayed in a less invasive portion of the building, living alongside people who had a mental breakdown much like they claimed I suffered, or people that never had sanity, to begin with. Sometimes I could hear the screams and threats to the staff from some of the more, let's say unstable residents of the clinic. I played the psychiatrist's game of sanity. I had to, there was no other option. No one would ever believe what really happened. At first, I’d used my limited computer time to research the haunted woods of Colorado. But I soon learned that only fed into my so-called insanity. Walking down the bland hallway, I thought about my research. There had been reports, but that’s all they were. The old myths and tales had mostly been in eastern Canada and the regions of the great plane, nothing stating that IT lived as far west as my encounter. I laughed to myself, calling it, IT when I knew what it really was now. I knew fairly early, but naming the beast IT left out enough context that people assumed I was talking about a wildlife incident. By playing charades like this long enough I was able to buy my freedom to the sane world. “This is it, Mr. Patel. You’ve come a long way, and..” I cut off the mental institution’s nurse by grabbing my belongings from him that he so kindly offered to carry for me. In reality, he snatched them up as soon as I’d checked them out from security. He pushed the door open, and the bright morning autumn light temporarily blinded me. I could see them standing at the end of the walkway, red and yellow leaves dancing across the ground as I slowly made my way towards my spouse and our daughter, golden hair shining in the light.Chapter one: The silent drive.
Markus made his way down the Rocky Mountains, slowly creeping along in his old Jeep Wrangler as the snow crunched beneath the chains. Only a few more hours and he’d reach his destination, a cold dark cabin in the wooded mountains of Colorado. He remembered going there maybe twice as a child, but since his father's heart failure he hadn’t really had contact with that side of the family. As the engine hummed along the mountain, he was on all but autopilot. Thirty-two years old and this is where life had landed him. Marital separation, no real career, no real family outside of the one he’d created with his wife and daughter. Had it really been that long since his father's passing? His so-called father was ten years and change older than he was now when he died of heart failure, but Markus supposed that’s what happens when you have genetic heart failure and you spent your life drinking and smoking. No one was really surprised when he passed, some had even been prepared for it. As for his mother's side, he never knew his grandparents and had only met his Aunt once or twice. Jen or Jenna? Jessica? Markus shook his head, “Focus Markus. Focus. Ice, snow, mountain. Pay attention.” It’d been a long drive and an even longer week. Markus couldn’t blame Elizabeth for wanting a separation. He hadn’t been great to her the last few years. He’d taken his failures and problems out on her. He was borderline abusive, he’d never hit her, but lord sometimes she made it so damn hard. He’d already felt like a failure, he didn’t need her pointing it out. He never really decided what to do with his life, sure he fell in love young, and had a beautiful daughter but there was still a hole missing out of his life. He never really could put his finger on it, was it a career he never decided on, dropping out of high school, falling out with his mother? The list could go on and on. He reached the old two-bedroom cabin just a few hours before dusk. The old, decrepit building hadn’t had visitors in more than a couple of years. The last person he knew of staying there was his father's mother, Gina. Grandma G made more of an effort to include him in the family than his father had, even going as far as to write birthday letters to him and have his father sign them as a child. After she disappeared, the cabin gained shared ownership by his father and siblings. The cabin was the last known place she had been, but there was no evidence of foul play. She was never found, even after the search parties and wildlife rangers had searched for days. But just like her father, no one was astounded she went missing. Dementia had really been setting in, even though no one thought it would be near bad enough for her to wander out into the woods by herself. Markus walked up to the front door, unlocking it using the key stuck under a fake rock next to the withered “Home sweet home” welcome mat. He could barely make out the words of the old piece of hemp, he wasn’t sure why it bothered him so bad. He was sure the only reason this old log hadn’t been broken into was due to the remote location. A thirty-minute drive to the closest grocery outlet, if you can even call it that, was the closest thing around. Markus practically walked into the door, expecting it to swing open. Between the ancient wood of the door and the ungreased hinges, It wouldn’t budge. He pulled up on the handle and pushed with his shoulder muttering, “Son of…” before the hinges gave way and he crashed onto the floor. He felt like laying on the cold, dusted ground forever. Just giving up and withering away like the old mat outside. “This is fine, just dandy. Go get me a beer already,” he said to no one in particular. He rose and brushed the floor dust from his old worn jeans, making his way to the ivory light switch. He stood in darkness, growing increasingly frustrated as he flicked the lifeless switch up and down. “That’s the problem with the old houses,” Markus said to the empty air. He walked out the front and around the north side of the old cabin, continuing along the side as he ran his fingers down the old wood until he reached the meter-main combo panel outside. He was less than shocked but still displeased to see the fuses had blown. “Where did they keep that box of fuses?” He quizzed himself. Eventually, Markus found them in a wood crate on the top shelf of the shed, which wasn’t in any better shape than the living quarters. The eight-by-five wood structure barely stood by itself anymore. The old window panes cracked andspiderwebbed, paint peeling and a few shingles slightly flapping in the wind.
Markus threw his last bag on the dining room table like a teenager coming home from the first week of school. It was a relief to finally be at the spine-chilling old cabin, with power on and belongings inside. The fire crackling in the stone hearth gave more light to the interior than the old yellow light bulbs. So far the only thing to go right had been the log left in the fireplace, Markus was even close to the corner of his lip raising when he saw the dry kindle ready to be lit. The sun would be setting soon, and if he wanted Devil's water before the natural light had completely dwindled he’d have to leave very soon. He was thirsty as if he had been stuck in the Southern Utah desert all his life. Except the only way to quench the thirst was to down ten or eleven bottles of cheap beer, just enough to remember the night before in the morning. Markus had learned his limited, twelve or thirteen drinks and he’d lose his dinner, fourteen or fifteen and he’d lose his ability to recall the events that followed. He’d never really been a fan of liquor, his favorite was “mid-shelf” beer. Markus grabbed his fluffy blue coat and headed out to the Jeep.Chapter two: The Warning.
The Jeep pulled up to John’s Gas and Grocery, the decades-old building was little more than a glorified Grocery outlet and petrol pumps that had to be from the mid-eighties. He braved the cold, pulling the collar of the well-used coat against the wind. A stereotypical ding-dong sounded when he opened the door, boots squelching on the false tile flooring. He nodded to the old man at the register, who merely looked up from a leather-bound book. Markus knew exactly what he needed, he grabbed a cart for all the essentials: three cases of beer, one box of twinkies, one box of ding-dongs, and his favorite, Oatmeal cream pies which he’d grabbed several boxes of. He grabbed the fattiest meat the small store had as well, the ancient old remedy of greasy food for hangovers.
He approached the register, “five bundles of kindle too, please.” The old Native American simply stared at him for a moment too long. “Awful lot of junk food for a camping trip in the snow, don’t you think?” Markus replied politely, “I’m staying at my family's cabin over the ridge on Fendore Drive for a few weeks, you’ll probably see me a few more times.”Mmm,” The old man hummed. “John Raymond,” said the old man in a raspy voice, sticking out his hand. Markus accepted the handshake, “Mark,” he replied. The old man wasn’t satisfied with that answer, tilting his head forward slightly and raising his bushy eyebrows. “Markus Patel. Friends called me Mark,” he had said with disinterest in sharing his full name. “Good strong handshake, says a lot about a man. Strong, yet caring and sensitive. No?” John asked quizzically. “If only that were true,” Markus said just loud enough to hear. John slid the items across the scanner, hardly taking an eye off Markus. “You ought to be careful around these trees. ‘Specially at night, wild animals and whatnot.” John warned Markus, almost winking at the end of his sentence. Markus wondered what exactly this old Ute was getting onto. “And what not?”“Some believe these woods are cursed. Call it a witch, or a demon. I’ve heard people talkin’. When you live as long as I do, you hear things spread around.” John almost seemed cautious about his words. Markus wanted to pry more, “And what do you believe, Mr. Raymond?” John Raymond petted an imaginary beard, “I believe that these woods are dangerous, ‘specially after dark. Be safe out there.”
“Well I appreciate the warning, but I don’t really believe in the whole ‘bigfoot’ thing,” Markus intercepted, using his fingers to quote bigfoot. “Have a good night, Mr. Raymond.”
Markus could feel the old man's eyes on him as he made his way back to the Jeep parked out front. After setting his delicious treasures on the passenger seat, Markus plucked five bundles of wood from the stack in front of the windows of the store. He felt unnerved, looking into the blackness beyond the store's light bleeding from the parking lot and beyond the pumps. He scoffed, feeling stupid for letting an old man's warnings get to him. “No such thing as Bigfoot,” Markus mumbled as he slammed his Jeep’s trunk shut. By the time Markus got to the turnpike that eventually led to the old dirt path, it had grown dark. The still night air had something whimsical about it. The pines were blanketed in a layer of untouched white powder, the only impressions in the snow beside his tire tracks were the occasional deer print. As serene as the woods were, only lit by moonlight reflecting off the frozen ground, Markus still felt somewhat uneasy. The old man named John had gotten to him to some amount, but Markus would never admit that, not even to himself.He pulled the now ticking Jeep up to the creepy old wood structure, as close as he could to the entrance. The light barely bled through the old dirty windows, giving the cabin a haunted look. Markus wondered to himself why he ever wanted to come out to this frozen wasteland, he only had fleeting memories of this place but when Elizabeth asked for a separation, this was the first place that came to mind. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought made him feel uneasy. Markus sat in the Jeep as it grew colder without the climate control on, wondering how this had ever happened. When they married, he was a happy young man with the world in front of him. Somewhere along the way, he grew into a bitter developing drunk. Maybe it was the torment of work, every job he had seemed to be worse than the last, his most recent job working as a grunt at a well-known manufacturing plant had proven to be the worst so far. Not only did he not have companionship with his fellow workers, but they also belittle him. They refused training and would treat him like a dog that had peed on the living room rug. He was tired of being belittled and tired of his rock bottom life.
The first thing Markus did upon entering the Cabin was crack a still cold beer, and opening a package of twinkies. After almost swallowing a Twinkie full, he finally had the strive to throw a log into the fireplace and bring warmth to the room.Markus cursed himself after forgetting to open the flu, the room beginning to fill with the foggy appearance of smoke. Though it didn’t bother him enough to forget about his T.V. Dinner he felt as though that was one more thing he failed at. As if the great being in the sky was keeping a tally of every little mistake he’d made, and punished him tenfold.
“One, three, five, six, seven…” Markus quietly counted the empty bottles stacking up around the chair which sat next to the warm fireplace. “A reckon I’ve earned one more, or a few,” he told the walls, as he raised a bottle in salute to himself. The next thing he remembers was waking up in the shallow cot, rolling over to see the time on his cellphone which was little more than a clock in the wilderness. “3:30.” The words rattled out of his mouth like a mummy. As soon as he lay his head back on the pillow, the world spun around him and he heaved himself out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom, narrowly making it to the toilet before projectile vomiting violently. The unpleasant mix of preservative pastry treats and cheap alcohol filled his taste buds as they had two hours earlier. Markus awoke on the cold hard ground of the bathroom sometime later, the sun just starting to peek over the trees of the late winter morning. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, something that felt like watching a car come barreling towards you while you sat in your still parked car, time seemed to slow moments before the collision.
Using the dwindling strength that was left, shaking from low blood sugar and an empty stomach, Markus pulled himself up using the sink. He stared at himself through a dirty mirror, his brown hair in a mop and stubble growing steadily on his face. He looked like death, with dark circles under his blue eyes. He always used to keep his hair short and neat, always clean-shaven except for the weekends when he could finally cut loose and not worry about a professional-looking demeanor. Bent over the short sink ached his back, probably from sleeping on the ground he noted mentally. Standing up straight and stretching his stiff back, cracking like a bullwhip. His hairline met the top of the mirror, he wasn’t intensely tall but six foot two was enough to miss the sight of his moppy hair in the reflective glass.Markus made his way out to his bag, still sitting on the dining room table. Fumbling with the zipper, he pulled out a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers, Dry swallowing a few. The small bundle of soft pine he had put in the fireplace before losing consciousness had burned out hours ago, the dead cold of the Colorado winter eating away the coals. Markus wondered how cold it must be in the old building, he could almost see his breath, so he figured it had to have been close to thirty-two. The firewood he had bought wasn’t lasting long, it’d probably had something to do with the low-grade softwood it had been cut out of. He remembered the four years of woodshop he’d taken in high school, Markus’s mind started to wander in his hungover state. “That table wouldn’t be so wobbly if they’d use a biscuit joint for the legs. It’s probably from some long-ago closed IKEA, nothing but cheap screws holding it together. If Elizabeth ends up wanting a full-blown divorce, she doesn’t get my table. Best thing I ever made. African walnut, curly maple..waterfall Bubinga. Now that was a work of art. No metal holding it together, just glue and its weight from the hand-carved joints.”
Once coming back to reality, Markus decided he’d better go out and cut some fresh wood. He’d seen an old ax in the shed, he’d cut enough to last the whole winter and stack it up on the side of the cabin. He was determined to exert physical effort now and not have to later. The ax had to have been from the sixties or seventies, it was practically ancient. The old steel was slightly rusted and the handle, a hardwood with a slight curve, he figured it was probably from a German manufacturer. At some distant point, he’d been in love with making knives. He used his woodworking skills to make handles for the full tang blades. “Always full tang, anything less is cheap garbage,” his metal shop teacher’s voice rang in his ears. Those were the days when life was simple. The biggest worry he had was how he was going to play hooky so he could go up Rock Canyon with his buddies. They’d studied the Canyon, after all, it was where prolific serial killer Ted Bundy killed some of his victims.
Markus had been chopping old trees for about three hours, sweat dripping down his brow despite the biting cold, every so often stopping to bite his tongue and breathe so he didn’t lose the remaining contents of his stomach. Maybe he didn’t have the stamina to chop a year's worth of wood after all, but all he needed was enough to last him the time he spent here and he was determined.Swinging the sharp heavy tool at a diagonal angle once, twice, three times more and the tree fell. “Finally!” He screamed, It must have been forty-five minutes since he worked on this pine.
Blood-curdling screams of a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, Markus swung around with the ax clutched to his chest, ready to chop for his own life. Slowly and cautiously striding forward, scanning the trees for any sign of duress Markus made his way into the shaded forest. He came upon a sight, something brown crumpled on the frozen earth. The closer he got, the more sense it made. White antlers blended with the backdrop of snow, invisible from a distance. Blood soaked the white powder around the unmoving beast, it was a brutal sight Markus had only seen in nature documentaries. Using the head of the ax, Markus turned to the head of the murdered deer, its throat ripped out clean. Blood still poured from the open wound, staining the fur a sickly onyx. “Cougar..” Markus carefully scanned his surroundings, before setting his eyes back on the buck. He’d never been hunting, but it was on his bucket list. He’d always wanted a nice rack to hang up on his office wall when he finally had enough money to buy a house with an office. He took a mental note to come back later with a saw and collect the bounty, approximately fifty feet due northeast of the Cabin.
Returning to the Cabin felt like a desolate trip through a never ending frozen waste land, What couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen minutes felt like days.Pulling the wet, dirty boots off brought relief. “Now all I need is a ding-dong and a beer. Maybe I should start some fire up before I settle in though,” the words rang through the empty cabin. Markus told himself he didn’t know what the purpose of him talking to himself was, but deep down in his still beating heart he knew. He knew it was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him from losing his mind and running out into the trees only to be eaten by some unseen beast. Absentmindedly throwing the last of his gas station wood into the hearth, his thoughts continued to wonder about the growing insanity inside his mind's eye. His voice echoed in his own head, ‘Could this be what happened to Gina? Coming out to get some R and R and losing her mind, or what was left of it at least? All this stress I'm carrying, could I lose my mind?’
Throwing a match on the kindling, flame burst to life, light dancing on the dark corners of the Cabin. The uneasy feeling had steadily been growing, something dark, something mysterious, something...Unknown.
Chapter Three: The visitor
“Come out Markie. Come out to me baby,” Elizabeth’s voice rang out, echoing from all around. Markus was blankly facing his bedroom door, but quickly turned in all directions looking for the voice. His eyes searched frantically, scanning everywhere until he saw a dark shape beyond the living room window, standing in the frozen earth with arms outstretched. Nothing but a silhouette in the dark, Markus ran for the front door to meet with the dark shape that couldn’t possibly be her. The harder he ran the further to the front door became, pushing his physical limits until his lungs felt like molten rock. If you could just get there, just hold his dear Eliza, everything would be alright. He could come home, make pancakes for her and their beautiful little Judy as small flakes of snow fell outside. He could find a new job that paid more and gave him more time at home with them...He could make things alright.
The door slowly opened, letting in the cold night air, just as it gently touched the wall, coming to full dilation he almost flew from the building, falling on his hands and knees, the icy ground scratching up his hands and knees. The pain was irrelevant, he had to get to his Eliza at all costs. He looked up, her white nightgown shining in the moonlight. Standing in front of him was what looked like his beloved wife, but it wasn’t Elizabeth. It was some misformed specter, something unnatural and mutated from a personal hell. He stared, looking at the grotesque representation of his wife, her nose had been chewed off, leaving nothing but a bloody nasal cavity, bits of cartilage and skin hanging off of it. Her right iris seemed to be stuck in the corner of her eye, trying to come to focus in front of her, red and bloody. Her skin was an ashy gray, withered and rotten from decades gone past. Her white gown made the skin of the creature look more off color than it probably was. The smell of death and rotten meat filled his nostrils. The false Elizabeth reached out her hand to caress his cheek, “Come home Markie, “ Blood and bile pouring from her mouth, “Come home,” A dark, devilish voice seemed to slither out of her mouth past the blood, the black liquid covering her white night gown in the moonlight. The voice that was hers and not hers at all the same time, rattled his brain, making him feel an internal earthquake in his head. Her outstretched fingers looked like gray rotten carrots, wrinkled past the point of recognition, the knuckles sticking out of the flesh like giant tumors, fingernails that had more of a resemblance to claws than actual nails. Slowly, the creature's Icy cold fingers gently make contact with his face, gently brushing his cheek.
Markus sat up in his cot screaming, soaking with sweat as if he’d gone swimming. Savagely scanning the room, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. It had been a dream, some awful rendition of his mind. Markus bent his knees up, resting his forehead on them and wrapping his arms around everything, he stayed in an upright fetal position until the first signs of light breached the windows. Convinced he’d never sleep again, he stumbled out into the living area and straight to the coffee maker he’d brought.
Markus sat in his lawn chair perched on the porch, sipping coffee in the cold, still morning. He hadn’t noticed the small white animal camouflaged in the snow until the caffeine had taken hold and he was able to clear his eyes of the night's salty sweat from constantly rubbing them. Curiously, he arose and approached the small crumpled fluff on the ground. “Peter cotton tail would be wise to stay out of Mr. McGregor’s garden. The cougar might catch you,” Markus said to the small rabbit who lay dead on the ice. He picked it up by the back foot, wishing for some good luck but somehow knowing he was far from it. The bloody fur stuck to the morning freeze, making a sick ripping sound as he pulled it upwards. “Lord..” Markus mumbled as the animal slowly spun by its foot. Whatever had gotten the little thing has disemboweled it, using scalpel and surgeon-like precision to cut from the jugular down the length of the body. Markus could see the entrails still intact, thanks to the freezing temperatures everything had hardened in place overnight. Crusted and Frozen blood hung onto the rabbit like a tick, even as Markus gently walked deep into the tree line. Tossing the dead animal into a bush some ten feet away, it landed with a solid thud. Markus returned to the crime scene, frozen blood still staining the white earth. “What kind of animal kills a rabbit like this and just leaves it? It had to have been that cougar, and something spooked it off. Right? Yeah, that’s it. Maybe something bigger, like a bear.” Markus knew he was lying to himself but just to be sure, he searched the area for tracks. Hopeful in finding giant cat prints, he found nothing but his own. There wasn’t even a sign of rabbit tracks, a phenomenon completely unnatural, however Markus chalked it up to sleep exhaustion and too much alcohol the night before. That was the only explanation.
Grabbing the keys off the table and making his way to his Jeep, Markus put the keys in the ignition, the metal beast jolting to life. He worried the tires would be frozen to the ground, but even if they were the vehicle moved with ease, rolling down the tree lined path towards John’s Gas and Grocery. Sometime later he arrived at the failed attempt at a gas-n-shop store. Markus jumped at the store’s bell as he pushed the door open, the owner John staring at him with interest as to why the living dead person who mysteriously drifted into town almost a week prior was stumbling through his door. “Friend, are you still living?” Markus blankly stared at the Native man, for the first time taking in the person he’d made contact with. Markus abscently thought, ‘This man is ancient. How old could he possibly be?”John, growing tired of the blank expression on Markus’s face, told him to come near. Markus did what he was told, nearing the wrinkled leathery face of the old man. “What have you seen?” John asked Markus, studying his copper features. “Uhm...What?” Markus stammered. ‘Brilliant, show the old man your intelligence level like you didn’t get past the eight grade,’ Markus thought to himself, admittingly a little harsh on himself.
“In the forrest. Have you seen anything?” John’s eyes seemed to pierce Markus’s soul. “I mean, the was a dead buck, and then this morning the was a dead rabbit.” Markus replied, as if he were on some wildlife observation trip. “You’re holding out on me, young man,” John said with an eir of scolding. Markus chuckled, “Young man? John i’m thirty-two.”
“And to me you’ll always be a young man. So what of the trees?”
Markus felt as though John was attempting to take him under his wing as a new born robin. “I heard a woman scream in the woods, while I was chopping kindle. Figured it must have been a cougar,” Markus said. “Mmmm,” John hummed. “Come for more cheep beer than?”
Markus was borderline offended, “What of it? I could drive into town if you’d like, buy my drinks there.”
“You are welcome to do as you please, Mark. I was talking about getting something a little nicer though. I could swing by after I close up, bring some food and something to drink that settles a little easier than off brand beer. Be around at 8:30?”
“Woah, whats the occasion?” Markus teased the old man, wondering if John thought they were long lost friends.
“No occasion, I knew Gina. I’d like to come see the old place, if you’d be alike to that.”
“How’d you know I was related to Gina?” Markus asked narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“I have lived in this town for sixty-five years. I remember when that Cabin was built, a matter of fact I worked at the hardware store when your grands’ would come in for supplies. I was only fourteen or fifteen at the time. After the town started to dry up in the seventies, the store shut her doors for good.” John seemed to stare into the distance, reminiscing about years gone past.
Markus seemed somewhat surprised, “I had no idea there was anything more than your store out here. What happened to the town?”
“Well a combination of things make the town die, they were supposed to build a sub-highway that came right through here. After they decided to move it south, travelers stopped coming through this way. Thats the reason I tell every traveler that comes through here.”
Markus Mused, “So what else killed the town, and why is your store still here?”
“Well I get just enough people come through to keep my doors open, usually old timers like myself that know a short cut around the city. That or people looking for a true backwoods adventure. I always tell them to move on, this isn’t the kind of place they want to spend the night, It can be hostile you know.”
“I see. But you only answered one of my questions.” Markus seemed to be prying for something John was pretending wasn’t there.
“As I said Mark, these woods can be hostile. As you’ve seen, theres things in these woods you don’t want to cross. Some travelers listen, some don’t, and some aren’t again seen after they leave these door.”
“Ah, I see. You’re going to kill me then,” Markus said with a wink. John chuckled, “I haven’t quite made up my mind on that.”
“Well in that case, i’ll take fifteen on the pump,” Markus smiled for the first time in a long time, he thought it may have been weeks, maybe even months since he had really smiled.
Markus and John sat on the cold patio, sipping on some exceptionally smooth whiskey John had brought, and seemed eager to share. “So,” Markus said, shifting in his seat to face John while fluffing up against his coat. “How’d you know I was related to Gina?”“Well Mark, as I said I’ve been around a long time. This little ol’ cabin is the only residence in the area so there was some buzz around town when your grands decided to build.”
Markus seemed puzzled, this seemed like prime real estate. “Why hasn’t anyone else ever build here?”
“Many have tried and have failed. You can still find abandoned materials or sometimes foundation if you look hard enough in the right places. How Gina and Frank ever got this place built and habitibal is nothing short of a miracle.”
Markus seemed slightly confused, and he wondered if it was because of lack of knowledge or the healthy buzz he was gaining from the top shelf alcohol. “So all these people just abandoned their properties? It couldn’t be the winters, I mean it’s bitter cold out here but not uninhabitable. The summers are probably quite pleasant...The wild life? No, they say Bears and Cougars would just as well leave you alone. Maybe it was economic hardship, and they bared through long enough to finally get it completely built.” Markus seemed to be using vocal deductive reasoning at this point, rather than for conversation.
“As I said, some believe these woods to be cursed. But as I recall, you don’t believe in Bigfoot. Isn’t that right?” John seemed to tease Mark who felt like he was gently swaying with the breeze. John didn’t seemed to be phased by the liquor at all though, it made Markus wonder if he was a lightweight after all.
“Right, I don’t believe because there isn’t such thing.” Markus said, with an eir of matter-of-fact. “Mmmm,” John mummed again. “But you believe in Gigantopithicus, no?”
Markus stammered, “Giganto-what-icus? John, this alcohol is weighing on me, you’re gonna have to make sense.”
John smiled warmly, “Gigantopithicus. It was a large ape-like animal that went extinct a few thousand years ago, native to the same area’s people claim to see Bigfoot. Do you think it’s possible a small population survived extinction? Or perhaps stories of the beasts when they existed amongs men survived through generations of story telling. What do you think, Mark?” Markus stared at John, peicing together what he said. It actually made sense to him though, if there had really been a gigantic ape like creature that roamed the earth, wouldn’t either option be possible?
“Or perhaps the werewolf, who some speculate originated by what’s known as ‘werewolf syndrome.’ A normal man, like you and I, but he grows hair on every inch of his body, catches something like rabies and makes him go, well, rabid.” John seemed like he was trying to get a point across, Markus just didn’t know what.
“So you’re trying to tell me, I giant ape and a rabid hairy guy are running around out here?” Markus said, confusion marking his tipsy face.
“I think you missing the point son, the point is every myth has an origin. Some are more real than you’d like they could be.” John started to grow serious.
They sat for sometime however, pondering on what was said. Eventually John broke the silence, “I wasn’t part of the search party for Gina.” John said, sorrow aging his face even further.“Me neither,” Markus said, taking another drink. The cold liquid burning down his throat, making him feel a foux warmth.
“I knew they wouldn’t find her, Markus. They never find the lost in these woods. Why didn’t you come to aid?” John asked.
“I know I should have. It would have been the right thing to do, and Gina deserved it. I guess the reason isn’t because of her, I’m resentful to the rest of her family.” Markus started to grow cold, starting from his soul.
“You know, family is all we have. It may be worth making amends before it’s too late.”
Markus thought about these words from John, he was right. Not about his fathers side of the family but about the family he’s created with Elizabeth and Judy. Elizabeth, Markus visibly shivered, remembering his dream.
“You’re right. But are they still family if they pretend like you don’t exist? And then the only time you do exist is when you’re the butt of their joke? I’m sorry, I just don’t believe they’re anything more than a gene pool to me. But Elizabeth and Judy, they’re what matters.” Markus could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, remembering going to Gina’s and Noah, his uncle, telling the then eight year old Markus to sit down and shut the hell up or so help him. Then there was the time at the family Christmas party he sat on the outskirts of the room, ignored by all, he hadn’t even wanted to go but his mother thought it was important for him to try and exist to that side of the family. Another stretch of awkward silence followed, both men pretended like it didn’t exist by sipping on their liquor.
What broke the silence was the slightest sound of a twig snap, it would have been an invisible noise if it weren’t for the silence. John’s eyes snapped in that direction, immediately breaking into a cold sweat. “It’s alright John, it’s probably just a rabbit or something. No such thing as Bigfoot, remember?” Markus smiled, trying to lighten the sudden heaviness in the air.“Yes, you’re right. Jumpy I suppose,” John said, sitting back into his seat, and rocking himself forward into a standing position. “I best be getting on my way,” John said, eager to exit.
Markus seemed confused, “Are you sure? Your company has been really nice, and I could use my friends right now.”
“I’ll come back in a few days, probably sometime in the morning…” John trailed off, staring into the tree line.
Chapter Four: Hunting
Markus woke up in an upright sweat, his eyes looking around widely. The blinding white light was peaking its way through the old floral curtains, hurting his eyes. Something had woken him up in a startle. Was it a dream? Was he still in the cabin? Had his wife wanted to separate? Yes, Markus told himself. It’s all real, as badly as he wanted all of it to be a bad dream, this was reality.BANG BANG.
Within a split second, Markus was on the floor reaching under the bed, pulling out a long black case. He hadn’t seen the gun case but he knew his grandmother well enough to know that there was a rifle or perhaps a shotgun under the bed and a handgun, most likely a 40. In the closet or nightstand.
He fumbled with the zipper, KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Someone was pounding at the door of the cabin, he through the cover of the case open and pulled out a B.R.O AR-15 and a full magazine. Even in his impending doom, all he could think was, “Dang. Grammy is packing full heat.” Even while he loaded the weapon he mused at the beautiful firearm. Blacked out, pistol grip with a combo laser and X20 scope. Markus had shot a gun a few times but had never really been hunting before. His mind glimpsed back to his teenage years when a friend had taken him out to their farm and shot doves with a 12 gauge. He got so frustrated, it seemed impossible to shoot those tiny birds while twenty feet in the air, making emergency serpentine maneuvers.
Markus pulled the rifle up to his shoulder and looked down the sights, past the scope. He figured in close quarters like this the scope wouldn’t do much good, even though it’d probably mess with his aim not looking down the barrel straight.“Hellooo? Is anybody home?” It was a man's voice, but not very deep. Almost as though it never dropped from his teenage years. Markus pointed straight at the door but kept his finger off the trigger, hovering just outside of it just in case. “This is private property and you’re trespassing, I am armed and ready to defend myself,” Markus yelled back sternly. The door shut ever so slightly, and the man calmly replied, “I mean no harm, my name is Carry. My wife and I were out hunting for elk and we got lost tracking one. We just need to be pointed in the direction of town. Please.”
Markus took a deep breath and exhaled, lowering the rifle. He walked over to the door and opened it, in the doorway stood a man, no taller than five foot nine, dressed in designer winter gear, and a woman behind him, meeting the same standards only slightly shorter. She was pretty, long blonde hair well taken care of, and probably a whole pallet of makeup on. The man had a five o’clock shadow, but Markus could tell he was usually clean-shaven. Markus could only think, you have GOT to be kidding me.
“It’s got to be fifteen degrees out here, come on in and I’ll make some coffee. I can take you into town after I dress,” Markus said as he opened the door so the out-of-place couple could enter. He threw some wood into the fireplace and dropped a match, it seemed to ignite instantaneously. The strange couple sat in front of the fire, warming their hands with a cup of cheap coffee. Markus couldn’t believe these people, they were about as “yuppy” as they come. What kind of people wear designer outdoor clothing and a sportsman Rolex on a hunting trip, and how on earth did they end up this far from the closest habited building?
2024.06.06 01:02 JohnNeuAuthor Rebirth Chapters 1-3
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: A New & Very Different Day
Grant watched the night sky from the front porch of his log cabin. He had acquired what he referred to as his very own small patch of dirt on the outskirts of town not too many years prior to that night and had grown accustomed to his nightly routine.“You can’t see the sky like this in the city,” he sighed to himself, trying his best to seem content with where he was.
But the cabin wasn’t a place of relaxation and contemplation. It was more of a staging area for random thoughts and fears. For years, Grant had been one of a small segment of the population that believed that the government and the top 1% were up to something behind closed doors. He could never quite put his finger on what, let alone articulate it, but he was dead certain that — whatever it was — it would harm the general population, and more importantly, him.
Day after day, Grant read reports and articles about strange occurrences — incredible feats of science, resources, and technology that would vanish into thin air along with the people who invented or discovered them. And the entire population, so tangled up in its own dramas, would almost instantly forget that any of these things had ever existed. In Grant’s eyes, that was the way the status quo had always been kept. People were tied to their debts, their health issues, their marital problems, and their purposeless jobs that they couldn’t bear to lift their heads for more than the minute it would take for them to see the blatant truth that was right in front of their eyes.
He believed, now more than ever, that the society as a whole had been held back for hundreds of years, and the more he thought about it, the more it maddened him. What was possibly the most infuriating, nigh-on mania-inducing element of it all was the fact that he considered himself more mentally agile and adept than those he regarded as sheep to the slaughter. However, the ‘what’ and the ‘how’ of what was going on beneath the surface had him stumped.
So, resigning that two (or multiple) heads were better than one and that he could not possibly crack the code on his own, he launched a group. They called themselves the ninety-niners, on account of being part of the 99%. They’d share information and, in recent weeks, they had even begun coordinating group training sessions. The agenda of those training sessions — you might ask? Combat and survival.
Still, on most nights, Grant would stare up at the stars with his random thoughts bobbing in and out of the thin veil between his consciousness and the collective pool that we all have hidden just beneath that fascia-like divider. As the lights above twinkled and shone with no rhyme or reason, contemplation would take him down the rabbit hole until it hurt to think anymore.
On that particular night, though, something caught Grant’s attention. But it wasn’t from the stars above — at least not at first. It was more toward the city skyline and it was just visible through the tree line ahead. There were several low-pitched sounds and a couple of bright lights that came closer into view. The hairs on the back of his neck stood and his ears pricked up. There was a sickly anxiety that hung in the air and enveloped him, squeezing the air from his lungs and prompting his heart to thud in his ears instead of his chest.
‘What is that?’ he thought
At first, there were just two or three. Then, they disappeared. Grant bolted for the door, tripping over the frame on his way and catching himself on the palms of his hands. He jolted as a splinter dug itself deep into his right palm. He composed himself as quickly as he could and made a beeline for his telescope, which was propped up against the wall of his bedroom, where he often continued his stargazing when it was too cold to sit on the old porch.
Grant made his way back outside and set the telescope up. He searched the sky frantically and there was no sign of them. He had no idea what they were, but there was no way he’d be leaving that spot anytime soon — even with the chill of early fall lapping at his cheeks.
Almost as quickly as they had disappeared, they reappeared. Slightly off to the right from where they had been before.
‘Military aircraft?’ he thought. ‘But the proportions and distance. It just doesn’t add up.’
Grant paused for a moment and it finally hit him. This wasn’t human. He always thought that there was life beyond this plant — the mere fact that human beings had always believed that we are the only sentient beings in the entirety of the universe was laughable to him.
The disappearance and reappearance of the lights went on for a while — emerging from the darkness of night every ten minutes or so.
Finally, the lights headed toward the sky with a rumble, ascending to about 30,000 feet. Grant pulled his thoughts together. This could be some new type of aircraft — secret military aircraft perhaps. The lights hadn’t managed to surpass the average altitude of a passenger aircraft though. But just as soon as the thought had entered his mind, the sound stopped and the lights changed from a constant blue and white light to an even brighter white light that flashed like a strobe.
He hadn’t thought to check his phone but he knew that social media had to be abuzz with this. Surely, he wasn’t the only one seeing these lights. But as he retrieved his phone from his pocket and opened the news app, his face paled. He moved to find a chair behind him and almost missed it completely. The first set of lights shot up into the sky and Grant took his eyes off his phone for a brief moment to watch them.
He wondered if what he had seen on his screen would happen here, near his cabin.
All of a sudden, a deafening whooshing sound ripped through the night. It was as if all of the aid had been sucked up behind those lights. Then it came again — this time from deeper in the city. Even at that distance it still shook the cabin. There were at least 30 lights that all launched at the same time.
Grant raised his phone and looked at the news feed. Dozens of videos of onlookers in the city painted a grim picture. Huge buildings crumbled to the ground as massive ships emerged from beneath them and launched into the sky. It was like something out of a horror movie and for a second, Grant thought it might be some type of elaborate prank carried out by one of the members of the group. There had to be some logical explanation.
The man who had always known that there was something beyond our world found himself, for the first time, wanting to be incorrect.
But he wasn’t and this definitely wasn’t a prank, unless one of the group members knew someone at just about every other news outlet in the country. They were all reporting the same thing — that anyone near the dozens of launch sites was instantly killed when the ships activated their ignition systems. People were told to evacuate the cities as quickly as they could — no holds barred. It was every human for themselves. As Grant looked at more new feeds, his head swum as he witnessed the atrocities unfolding in every major city on the planet. All the while, the wind carried a pungent aroma through the air. It smelt like wet cement and something else — something that reminded Grant of the weekends on his grandpa’s farm, when he’d spit roast a whole hog. It was the unmistakable smell of burnt flesh and hair, and it breezed across the countryside in plumes.
Chapter 2: Escape
Jake MacGregor exited the elevator and turned the corner, heading left down the clinically clean hallway. His front door was the very first on the right and he stood in front of it for a moment, allowing the events of the day to wash away, before going inside. With his line of work, Jake always set a high level of importance on keeping his occupation and his home life separate. The life of a Peace Officer and the working persona were hardly compatible with that of a father and husband, after all.After a cleansing sigh, he reached down and gripped the door handle — its cool steel snapping him back into reality. He turned the handle and slowly pushed the door forward. Almost as if it were magic, he plucked up the fortitude to transform his expression from stern to happy as the sight of his family came into view. He laid his eyes on his wife, Mara, in the kitchen.
“Hi, honey,” Mara beamed, not taking her eyes off the bubbling pot of soup she was stirring furiously.
Jake genuinely chuckled this time. His wife was an amazing woman; an incredible wife and mother. But she wasn’t the best cook. She knew one setting on that stove and whether the pots bubbled over or took too long to heat up, that was the setting she stuck to.
Jake gently reached over her shoulder and turned the dial back to 2.
“It smells great,” he assured her. “Could probably do with a simmer now.”
Mara smiled knowingly.
Jake left her to what she was doing as he set his bag and jacket in the adjacent closet. His smile got bigger and his eyes got wider as he walked back toward Mara. She looked back up from her cooking only for a minute to smile at her husband and say, “Are you ok?”
But Jake didn’t reply. He just smiled and offered her a single peck on the cheek.
As he prepared to leave the kitchen, Mara spoke up again.
“You have a message,” she said with a more serious note in her tone. “On the portal.”
Jake nodded.
As he walked over to the Portal and tapped on the monitor, he heard Mara call out, “It's the one with the security clearance.”
He frowned as his heart rate picked up. It wasn’t so much to do with what the contents of the message might be but more to do with the fact that he had given express instructions not to be disturbed at home. He had gone to great lengths to ensure that his home life and professional life met on as few occasions as possible. The office wasn’t to contact him here unless it was…
URGENT
The message stood out from the rest like a sore thumb.
‘That’s weird,’ he thought as he pulled up the message.
The message wasn’t from work, nor was it from anyone that he knew. He checked the sender’s data.
“It’s been stripped,” he said under his breath.
“What’s that?” Mara asked.
'Apparently not soft enough.’
“Nothing,” he called back as he entered his security code and played the message.
An older woman appeared onscreen and he immediately turned the volume down to a barely audible level.
“Hello, Jake. You do not know me but I have a debt to repay your family for a kindness that your father once showed me. Despite this being a secure transmission, I cannot take any chances for the sake of your family and mine. Tomorrow morning at 10 AM, you need to be at 8215 West 3rd Street in the suburb of Mason. It’s just west of the city. You will need to knock on this door.”
An image of the address and the door appeared on the Portal screen.
“The man that answers will let you in. Please, Jake, I cannot tell you how important this is to your family and their well-being. You need to ALL be there at 10 am.”
The woman’s expression shifted from pained to calm as she said, “My debt is now paid, but I have and will wrong so many more before I pass. Goodbye, Jake.”
Jake tried to replay the message but it was gone. He grabbed a pen and paper, jotting the address down as quickly as he could before it left his memory.
“Daddy!” Tabitha, his youngest daughter, pulled his attention back to the present moment.
Jake jumped at the sound of her voice and composed himself.
“Hi, baby,” he said, kneeling down to look at her. “How was your day?”
But as his daughter began speaking, his mind raced with the message. The lives of his family and himself depended on being at that location according to the woman. But how could he trust a complete stranger? If the messenger meant to help his family with something, why would she be so cryptic? What if it was some type of setup? Jake wasn’t exactly a low-level worker. What if it was a kidnapping ploy?
“Daddy, are you listening?”
“Yes, darling. Of course, I am. But you go wash up now. Mommy’s made soup.”
“Yuck! I hate soup,” Tabitha scrunched her nose.
“But we don’t want to hurt Mommy’s feelings. She’s worked so hard on that soup,” Jake whispered.
“Ok, Daddy,” Tabitha conceded.
Jake didn’t get much sleep that night. The old woman's message played over and over in his mind. He flipped back and forth between going to the small town in the morning and just forgetting about the message altogether. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t bring himself to take Mara, Tabitha, and his eldest daughter, June, to some strange address on the instruction of someone he didn’t know. He wasn’t even certain of whether he could trust her or whether he should go.
Mara lay with her back to her husband that night, knowing from years of experience that Jake would never open up about anything job-related. She was almost certain that the message, which she couldn’t hear from the kitchen, was that in some way. He tossed and turned for most of the night, and by the time Tabitha peeked over the horizon, Jake had had about 5 hours of consistent sleep. He got up as quietly as he could and resolved that the message had to be answered. He had to make it to that address and he had to leave immediately in order to get there on time.
He washed up, got on his clothes, and stared at his wife for a moment. He would have kissed her, but the last thing he wanted was to wake her — and for her to ask where he was headed an hour earlier than usual. Instead, he walked into the bedroom that June and Tabitha shared, kissed them both on the forehead, tucked them in tighter, and left.
As Jake walked out of the building and climbed into his Autom, it traveled away from the rising sun toward the town of Mason. The Autom glided over the paved road below it like a breeze floating over treetops. The Autom came to a stop about 200 yards from the address in the message and Jake sat looking at the building. He looked down at his watch. It was 8:50 AM. He still had time to think this through one more time. As he stared at the building, he drank in its façade. There was not much to see — just a single-story building with only a couple of windows. The building had clearly been neglected for a long time. Weather wear had faded the exterior to a pale bluish-gray color and cracked the metal sheeting.
To the average person, the building would appear deserted and abandoned, but Jake's training told him different.
The large, poorly dressed man across the street was less concerned with what was around him than what was going on around the building. His baggy clothes on that warm morning gave away that he was hiding something.
‘Probably a weapon.’
A second man slowly walked around two edges of the building, never getting too far from the single door on the corner. The door was gray like the building, but there was something interesting about it. It was the type of door that they used to train with at the Peace Officer Training sessions: a solid metal door with reinforced hinges and probably a serious lock. There were also, most likely, a couple of armed guys on the other side.
Jake waited for about another hour until the appointed time then exited the Autom and walked toward the door. As he approached it, the second man arrived at the door almost in unison with him. Without saying a word, he opened the door for Jake.
Jake nodded and the man then said, “Good morning, Mr. MacGregor.”
There was no mistaking that they had been waiting for his arrival.
The man placed his hand on the small of Jake’s back and politely but ever so forcefully guided him through the door where a large service elevator waited for him. There were no armed guards as he had thought there would be, but there was nowhere for him to go but toward that elevator, and behind him stood the burly man who had opened the door for him. There were no windows or other doors. Just the steel sliding ones that opened as soon as Jake neared them.
He entered the elevator and, as the door closed behind him he turned around to see that the control panel only had one button. Without wasting a moment, he pressed it and began his descent. He took a moment to steady his breath and fix his jacket, palming his hair from his face and tucking it back. There was no denying his nervousness, but he resigned to take it one second at a time.
Several minutes later, the elevator came to a creaky halt and the doors opened. The elevator itself was very dimly lit as was the entrance, which was why, when the doors opened, and a slit of light blasted Jake’s eyes, the contrast from the top of the shaft to the bottom felt blinding. Jake squinted and his eyes took a couple of seconds to adjust. But as they did, he could see the blurry figure of a man as it entered his field of vision and reached out a hand. Out of force of habit more than any sense of politeness, Jake embraced the man's hand for what was a fairly regular handshake. It was then that Jake’s eyes allowed the man to come into complete focus.
“Hello, Mr. MacGregor, my name is Mr. Collins. If you would follow me to my office, I will try to explain what is going on.”
Mr. Collins led the way through the lofty lobby. There, must have been at least 200 floors after having descended for 7 minutes.
‘Average of 500 feet per minute… that’s 3,500 feet at least,’ Jake thought to himself.
As the thought settled in, the two men entered Mr. Collins’ office and he offered Jake a seat. Jake knew when a room was designed for a specific purpose. He had been in enough interrogation and interview rooms to know what the agenda might be. That room, however, was very different from what he was used to. It was clearly designed to put people at ease. At face value, it was set up to look like an office, but Jake could see the small differences.
“Thank you for coming,” Mr. Collins said.
“I’m eager to learn what all of this is about,” Jake replied as he looked at the family photos that lined the walls and the tabletop behind Mr. Collins. None of them were of him and his family. They looked like stock photos. The color scheme was almost too cheery and subtle against the beautiful wood floor and cabinetry.
Mr. Collins sat down behind the desk and motioned for Jake to take a seat across from him. Mr. Collins leaned forward as he adjusted his chair: a tactic used to elicit trust in the subject. Mr. Collins took a deep breath.
“Mr. MacGregor, are you familiar with the Solarists Movement?”
“Yeah, I have had to arrest some of them a few times when their protesting got out of hand. Other than that, I have never given them much thought.” Jake replied.
“The Solarists,” Mr. Collins continued, “have been around for a very long time. The movement originated over 500 years ago when a few scientists and a couple of politicians got together and released a statement saying that the Jodon sun was going to explode and destroy the solar system. These individuals were charged with various crimes and the ones that did not recant were sent to prison where they died a short time later.”
Jake nodded and said, “OK, so what does that have to do with what I am doing here today?”
“It’s true, well most of it anyway.”
“What — that a bunch of crazed rebels were thrown in jail and subsequent Solarists have continued to run amok ever since or the part about the sun exploding?”
“The part about the sun,” Mr. Collins said apprehensively.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jake sniggered, looking around the room.
“Well, the sun is not going to explode, but it is changing. Within a couple hundred years the Jodon system will be uninhabitable for any life.”
“You’re serious?”
“We hadn’t planned on telling this to anyone for a long time, but changes to the solar weather patterns have caused us to move up our timeline.”
“Moved it up by how much?” Jake asked.
“We have predicted that within the next 48 hours, the sun will enter a time of increased activity that may last hundreds or thousands of years. A set of solar eruptions will shoot at least three of the largest solar flares toward our planet that we have ever recorded. We predict that these flares will cause devastation to technology the likes we cannot imagine. If this facility experiences even a short disruption of power our entire crop could be damaged or lost.”
“Crop? What do you mean by Crop?” he asked as he sat at attention in his chair.
Mr. Collins reached over to the desk behind him and picked up a small remote, almost as if he had done this one too many times for him to bear. He pressed the button that lowered a viewing Portal from the ceiling. He then pressed another button and a video started up.
The Portal showed a video of lights flickering in the sky.
“What is this?” Jake asked.
“This is happening in real-time on the other end of the planet. We hadn’t planned to launch so abruptly but the flares will ruin our plans if we don’t act now.”
“Plans for what?” Jake asked.
Sirens began blaring throughout the complex and Jake cupped his ears as a look of concern fell over him. Mr. Collins remained calm as he reached for Jake’s hand and stood up from his chair with Jake in tow. They left the room with haste and turned right before heading down a wide and well-lit hall. The perfectly white walls reflected the yellow light that was flashing from sirens along the top of them.
Mr. Collins began to speak and, for a second, Jake thought the man was speaking to him before he noticed the earbud in his left ear.
“We are going to have to move up our plans a few hours,” he said as continued to pull Jake down the hall. He then turned to look back at Jake and said, “The first couple of days will be difficult, but once you reach orbit, everything you need will be available to you.”
Jake planted his feet firmly and pulled his hand back.
“Orbit? What do you mean orbit?”
Mr, Collins was clearly frustrated by that move and replied, “Jodon is dying. I didn’t want to put this fine of a point on it but here it is. In the next 48 hours, Government officials and the elite who could afford a ticket are going to blast off in ships they have been building for hundreds of years. Once that happens, the whole solar system will know that they are doomed. The worlds will erupt in mass panic and chaos. This program was built to offer everyone a way to survive. This first crop of 300 Meso ships has to survive if the rest of us have a chance.”
“I can’t just leave!”
“The complex is currently being attacked and we need to launch now!” Mr. Collins barked, his calm demeanor beginning to crack.
“What about my family? I can’t just leave them.” Jake said in a panic, realizing that he should have taken them with him. In an instant, every choice he had ever made in his life rushed up to meet him. Keeping his wife out of the loop with work in a bid to selfishly carve out time for himself that was completely disconnected — shutting her out of a large piece of him in the process. He had good intentions. But that didn’t count for squat at that moment.
“If everything goes according to plan you can return in a couple of months to get them. There is communication gear in the ship that will allow you to contact them, but right now we have to go,” Mr. Collins insisted.
Jake could tell that Mr. Collins was getting bad news through the earbud and he nodded in the affirmative. He couldn’t believe that this was happening but he had a better chance of getting his family off this planet if he went with Collins’ plan. He knew that much for sure. Mr. Collins smiled as they traveled another fifty feet to spot in the wall where the corridor opened up to glass and an impressively huge underground complex.
The two men moved quickly and deliberately down a set of stairs toward the open bay containing the Meso ships. Jake looked them over as they walked toward his ship. They didn’t look like much. They were mostly an earthy-brown color with random stripes and patches of purple that blended into the brown around them. They had a small black nose on the front of them and Jake couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear as the realization that they looked like large coffins Tabithaed on him. The door to Jake’s ship opened with a hiss and he immediately noticed that there was no way for a grown man to even sit up in them.
Mr. Collins yanked on Jake’s arm and said, “This one is yours”.
The ship was leaning up at a 45-degree angle. It was perched on a metal platform connected to a holographic control tower that stood about 4 feet tall. He felt a small but sharp pain in his right arm. He was in so much shock that he couldn’t tell what had happened until he saw the glint of a blade in Collins’ hand, followed by a warm sensation dripping down his arm.
“Hey!” Jake yelled, pulling back to swing on Collins.
“Relax!” Collins barked, raising a small pad to the bleeding spot on Jake’s arm. He watched as his blood pooled in a central dial on the pad. Collins then inserted the pad into a bay on the outer wall of the Meso ship. It slid in as if the ship was made of pudding and Jake did a double take as he went to touch the ship in the same place. It was as hard as stone again. He looked bemused as he couldn’t discern where the seams of a potential doorway were. It was almost as if there wasn’t one.
Mr. Collins pulled a brief smile, “ This will only take a couple seconds.”
From the far side of the bay, Jake could see and hear what appeared to be more than a hundred people rushing toward him.
“It’s ready,” Mr. Collins said as the ship pinged. “Good luck.”
He gave Jake a shove toward the Meso Ship. Jake stumbled a little and put out his right hand to catch himself — pressing his palm against the ship. This time, the surface of the ship was no longer hard and stiff, his palm fell through the skin like warm pudding. There was almost no resistance to his presence this time. Jake was able to regain his balance and he meant to turn back to Mr. Collins to scold him for pushing him, but something more pressing grabbed his attention… and his arm. The Meso ship was slowly and steadily pulling Jake into the ship. At first, it was just up to the forearm. Then, before he realized what was happening, it had pulled him in up to his shoulder. Jake began to panic as he turned his head to Mr. Collins for answers. But Mr. Collins just repeated his sentiments.
“Good luck.”
The man whom Jake had only met 30 minutes prior turned to walk away as Jake turned to face his fate. He looked up at the skin which was folding in all around him. As he did so, he began to lose consciousness. His head and left shoulder were pulled into the ship followed by the rest of him. The last thing he heard as the blackness surrounded him was the panicked screams of the people around him and several loud explosions as the ground began to shake.
Chapter 3: Revelation
Grant looked up from his Portal after spending most of the night scrolling through launch after launch from around the planet. He didn’t realize it yet, but this would be the event that he had long been searching for. The government and the 1% had really been planning something right beneath everyone’s noses: their escape from the solar system. As it turned out, they had been planning it for almost a thousand years — something he would come to learn.“They’ve been stealing tech resources,” Grant spoke to himself as if to assure himself of what he was seeing.
The government had, in fact, been swiping these advances out from under their citizens — taking advantage of exceptionally intelligent scientists who no doubt weren’t going to be onboard those ships… not unless they were needed to keep them running or to repair them. They were using these people and their output to create these escape pods that would allow them to leave the system and escape a living hell on the planet’s surface — a living hell that would almost certainly end in certain death for them and their families.
All the puzzle pieces were beginning to come together and Grant began connecting the dots. As he looked at the faces of those screaming as they dashed away from the launch sites, he theorized. He felt that the ships were designed to remove key people from the planet but he just didn’t know why.
“Well, there can only be one reason why,” he sighed. “Something catastrophic is coming and they’ve known about this for generations.”
Grant had hit the nail on the head and as the entire planet’s population would soon find out, the 1% knew that they would never be able to rescue the whole system. There were too many citizens — tens of billions of people on this planet and close to a dozen others. It was a task they could never accomplish, especially if they were on a tight deadline.
“Wait,” Grant whispered to himself. “Is whatever’s coming going to destroy just us or all the planets in our system?”
He could tell that the elite had built enough ships for themselves and their families to escape. What he didn’t know was how severe it all was. Either way, the majority of the population was left to learn its fate — and learn they would.
2024.06.05 23:25 R-M-Staniforth How A Murder Saved My Life
I was done. This time I meant it. There were several times in my life where I found myself considering it, contemplating taking my trip to the other side. Last time I had called the suicide hotline and eventually decided to give life one more try. Not this time.
I felt completely at peace about it. This time, I was truly ready to die. I felt the scratchy fiber around my neck after slipping the rope over my head. “The forever necklace,” I thought in a dark little joke just for myself. The rope was tied to a metal loop that was drilled into the ceiling truss to be sure that I would not fail. I had never been so determined to accomplish anything in my life the way I was today.
The old wooden chair I stood on creaked and groaned a mournful protest as I lifted my foot, ready to step off the chair. One deep breath, and I could let it all go.
Then, someone knocked on the door.
I froze in exactly that position, one foot on the chair and one foot off, wondering with a sudden twinge of anger who the hell could be knocking on the door. I spent every last dollar I had to rent this remote cabin where I could spend my last weekend in beauty and peace. The intrusive sound boomed again through the empty house, obliterating my illusion of peace.
I slipped the rope back off my neck with irritation and watched it swing back and forth. “Don’t go anywhere now, we’re not done,” I told the rope, before stepping off the chair and heading down the stairs ready to berate the inconsiderate person who ruined my nearly perfect moment.
After squinting through the peephole of the solid wood door, I could see a gangly man wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up tightly over his head. A sharp black beard with speckled gray poked through the hood, and I could see a pointed pale nose, but otherwise, his features were largely hidden. The man was looking down but swayed side to side on his feet impatiently, sending another spark of irritation through my clenched jaw. He knocked again, louder this time.
I pulled the squeaky cabin door open against my better judgment, but he didn’t seem to be leaving on his own and my sudden anger took control of my arm, which reached forward and pulled the door open. “What do you want?” I asked rudely, not even considering the normal pleasantries.
“Good evening, sir,” The stranger said, a little too nicely. As he lifted his head I could see that he had black combed hair matching his fairly well-groomed beard, a bit of gray mixing in with the dark black. A little dash of salt in the pepper, if you will. “My car broke down about a mile down that dirt road and I was wondering if I could use your phone?” The man felt like a used car salesman with his fake, almost painted-on smile and voice that sounded rehearsed.
“I don’t have a phone,” I told him coldly. It was a lie, of course. While my cell had no service, there was a functioning wall-mounted phone in the kitchen. The older type, with a coiled cord connecting it to the wall mount.
“Oh I’m sure you have a phone, all the cabins up here do.” He told me with his wide, aggravating smile.
“Not this one,” I told him shortly, ending the conversation and wanting him gone. I started shutting the door when he stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing me from shutting the door all of the way.
“It’ll only take me 30 seconds then I’ll be gone.”
Anger spiked in me when he blocked my door with his foot, and I thought about slamming his foot with the door. Instead, and without even giving him a response, I pushed him away from the door and slammed it shut. I heard the click of the deadbolt before I even knew I was locking it.
I stood there for a minute, bewildered by the event. A twinge of guilt struck my gut, I felt maybe I should have helped him. The timing was poor, sure, but how was he supposed to know my “grand plans”? But at the same time, why should I help the guy anyway? Nobody had ever lent me a helping hand when I needed it. That’s just how this cruel world works, nobody gives a shit. And who puts their foot in someone's door?
After staring at the door for some time, maybe a minute, maybe 15, I walked back upstairs and peered out through the window to make sure I was alone. He was gone, but I hadn’t seen him leave. A strange uneasiness crept over me. Things weren't going how they were supposed to.
I checked all the windows, looking for the weirdo. Nothing. So I made some quick tea, one last cup of tea sounded nice, and pushed the strange encounter out of my mind. It was time to find my peace again. I realized that the sun was now starting to set over the nearby mountain peaks. Why not watch it? This would be my last sunset, and It sure was a stunning one.
I pulled a cozy recliner chair to the large upstairs window. Brilliant colors of orange and pink now filled the sky. The clouds were broken up, creating the appearance of a large beautiful pathway over the horizon.
It struck me that, there it was, my beautiful pathway to the afterlife had presented itself, and it was time. It was time to take the path laid before me. I thought that maybe this was a sign, a sign that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. I realized I was standing back on the chair but didn't remember deciding to get back up there. I once again placed the rope over my neck, already positioned so that I was facing the sunset. At that moment, I was completely at peace with my death. I started to take that step, and then….
There was knocking at the door.
This wasn’t the customary 3 or 4 knocks followed by waiting that had invaded my peace before, this was loud panicked knocking that startled me so badly that I almost fell off the chair. It seems ironic, that I was about to willingly step off the chair but the next moment I was fighting for balance to not fall.
The loud knocking continued. Once again, my beautiful peaceful moment had been shattered. I removed the rope and went over to the opposite window to see who the hell had screwed everything up. This time, it was not the hooded weirdo standing at the door, It was a girl. She had long dark hair and appeared to be about my age, maybe a little younger, and she was terrified, crying, and panicked, knocking repeatedly and taking constant looks back over her shoulder.
This time I wasn’t overcome with anger, but a deep concern as I ran down the stairs to the door. As I approached the door, I could hear her pleading for help, still pounding on the door. The second I opened the door she pushed herself in, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
“Wh-“ I started asking, but before I could finish my question she slammed into me so unexpectedly I let out an “oof,” but to my surprise, she pulled me into a tight embrace. Never in my life had I felt anybody hug me as tightly as this crying girl was squeezing me right now. I hugged her back, squeezing her just as tight.
“Wha- what’s wrong?” I asked her with genuine concern as I blew her hair out of my face. She pulled back and looked me in the eye. I couldn’t help but notice that, even through her tears and fear-stricken face, she was absolutely beautiful. Her long dark hair complemented those beautiful green eyes in a perfect sort of way that reminded me of the sunset. They were a shade of green that I had never before seen, almost as if it was a new color that had not been discovered until this girl was born. For a moment, I lost myself in her eyes before the exasperating reality slapped me back to the situation at hand.
“He killed her, he killed Jess.”
Confusion quickly turned to a pit deep in my stomach at what she said. “What? Who? Who’s Jess?” I asked her, still holding her tightly.
He- he came to the door,” She started, barely getting the words out through her sobs and deep breaths. “He asked to use the phone so I let him in. But he had a knife and…. and…” The girl burst into uncontrollable sobs and buried her face in my shoulder. She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to, the truth of the situation crashed down on me. The same guy who knocked on my door earlier had visited another cabin, and this woman had watched her friend to stabbed to death.
I wanted to panic the same way she was, but knew with certainty that she needed me to stay calm, or at least seem calm. I quickly walked her into the kitchen, grabbed the phone with hands so shaky I nearly dropped it and dialed 911.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Yeah uh…. My name is Dean Johansen, there’s been a Murder.” It felt weird to say, and a weird fear struck me that maybe the voice on the phone wouldn’t believe me.
“What’s your address, sir?” The quick, professional voice responded.
I gave her the address of the cabin I was staying at, thankfully it was on a card by the landline phone. I asked the girl for the address where the murder happened. She didn’t know, but she managed to tell the operator that her name was Sarah and the victim's name as well as a description of the killer.
“Okay Sir, please lock the doors and stay inside, emergency responders will be there in about 30 minutes.” The phone lady told me in a matter-of-fact tone as if this was a normal Tuesday call to IT.
“30 minutes? What do you mean 30 minutes?” I asked with deep exasperation. “There’s a MURDERER on the loose!”
“I’m sorry sir, that’s the closest law enforcement to you, you’re in a remote area.” In those last words, I could finally hear a tone of emotion, a sadness that she couldn’t help.
Before I could respond, there was a loud knock on the door making us both jump. Sarah cried out loudly and I dropped the phone. I signaled to her with a single finger placed over my lips knowing full well that whoever was at the door would have already heard her cry out, and quietly, I walked to the door and nervously looked through the peephole. My heart slammed into my gut at the sight of the man who stood on the porch. It was him, the hooded car salesman asshole, but now his face and beard were splattered with blood.
“I need to borrow your PHONE!” The man yelled in an unhinged sing-song tone, his fake nice had been replaced with a manic and insane tone matching the crazed look In his eye. BOOM! He kicked the door hard, shaking the door but it held strong. I ran to the kitchen to grab my own knife. Sarah was already holding one. BOOM! There was another kick. We stood there, terrified, and not knowing what to do. I braced for another boom, but there wasn’t one. It was silent.
“You go upstairs,” I told Sarah decisively, “I’ll stay down here just in case.” I had come out here willing and prepared to meet death, Sarah didn’t deserve that though. I had only just met her, but I felt a genuine desire to protect her, and if this is how I went, at least my death had meaning now. I was fine with death, but if he came in I could at least try to take him with me.
Sarah nodded, her eyes wide and shocked, and she headed up the stairs. Just as she crossed the final step, the window of the sliding glass back door exploded as a large rock blasted through. I ducked instinctively as shards of glass rained down on me and looked back up to see the man climbing in through the large broken window, smiling with an expression of adrenalized mania. I grabbed an ugly vase off the nearby end table and threw it at him, grunting with every ounce of strength I could summon. It missed terribly to his left, shattering on the cabinet to his right.
With the knife still in my hand, I picked up a wooden chair and charged at him with bravery and confidence I had never felt before. The chair legs hit him square in the chest and face catching him off guard, but it felt like hitting a brick wall. The recoil of the collision pushed the chair back into my chin and we both were knocked to the ground.
I looked over to see him already getting up, but within distance so I slashed at him with my knife, aiming for the neck. I missed again, but still slashed through his face sending a splatter of blood, but he barely flinched. He immediately slashed right back at me, putting a deep cut into my upper chest. I rolled backward, struggling in a panicked frenzy trying to get to my feet.
Before I was up to my feet, the chair hit me hard in my face and knocked me back to the ground. I staggered back up to my feet despite the black spots from the hit to my head, noting the taste of blood in my mouth while the knife slashed past my throat, narrowly missing me. I started punching and slashing wildly in a frenzy, overcome with an unfamiliar rage that perhaps had been waiting for years to be freed. I admit that I don’t know how to fight, I’d honestly never needed to before, but something was working. I connected at least once more with the knife slicing a fresh wound on his shoulder. He was backing up and then, naturally, I tripped.
My knife clattered on the hardwood floor, I rose to my knees reaching for the knife but was knocked down from a hard kick to my side. Every last molecule of oxygen in my lungs was expelled from my body with a disgusting grunt. I tried to breathe and regain myself but only found an excruciating sharp pain in my ribs from where I was kicked. The man stood over me, a triumphant sneer on his face, ready to bring the knife down on me. Suddenly, I didn’t want to die anymore.
As the man started to bring the knife down, a chair crashed into his upper back and his head splintering with impact. He cried out in fury as the knife fell from his hand and he fell to his knees while I rolled away to lengthen the distance. I saw Sarah’s wide-eyed face looking down from over the loft banister, she had thrown the chair that had kept me from getting stabbed right there on the floor. It was the chair I had been standing on when Sarah arrived.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The man yelled out, already back on his feet and armed. He started running to the stairs with his knife hand. Sarah was screaming as he seemed to forget about me and set his predatory sight on her. Her screams sparked a new sense of urgent adrenaline and I found myself picking up my knife and running after him despite the pain.
Sarah was backed into a corner holding her large kitchen knife in front of her in both fear and bold defiance, while the intruder looked for his opportunity to make his move. He slashed at her, missing short but causing her to flinch badly. Before he could take a follow-up shot, I slammed the knife square into his upper back. The blade penetrated the right of his spine with a dull sound accompanied by a horrific crack that must have been a rib giving way.
The man collapsed to his knees while I pushed into the handle of the knife trying to drive it deeper. He let out a roar of pure rage and pushed back against me. I tried to drive him to the ground but he was stronger than I, even with the knife in his back, and was able to struggle to his feet.
While this was happening, I saw Sarah running through the door with my rope. Instantly, I understood her plan. I wrapped my arms around his waist and arms, clasping my hands in front to trap his arms at his sides. I squeezed as tight as I possibly could as Sarah slipped the noose over his head. He was fighting violently now, and I struggled to restrain him. I held on as tight as I could, but the grip of my hands was starting to slip. Sarah was hurriedly tying the other end of the rope to the banister with shaky hands.
With a sudden burst of strength, my grip failed and the killer broke his arms free and lunged at Sarah. I charged at him, putting my shoulder into his side like a regular rugby player, pushing him toward the banister. Sarah jumped into the fight as well, throwing her weight into him. Together, we put all the remaining energy we had into one final push, knocking the killer over the banister and off the loft.
The rope caught. With an audible CRACK, his fall was broken, as was his neck. Both of our knots had held. The body swayed gently over the living room suspended by a noose tied to the banister. My noose.
Sarah and I sat outside, waiting for the police to arrive. We’d walked out there, or rather she awkwardly helped me. After the moment was done, all of the physical pain came crashing into me at once. She was holding a bathroom towel over the deep cut in my chest, which was bleeding profusely and soaking my once white shirt in crimson.
As the cool mountainous air started bringing my body temperature to a reasonable level, she broke the awkward silence addressing the elephant in the room. The elephant being the noose that had been hanging in the bedroom. “Were you going to…?”.
“Yes,” I admitted, looking down at my knees. I didn’t need her to finish the question, I knew what she meant.
Sarah gently grasped my chin and pulled it up. “Please don’t,” she told me, looking into my eyes. I once again saw in her teary eyes just how beautiful she was. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
“I won’t,” I promised, surprised to hear the words from my lips with tears now finding their way down my face, and I meant it.
That was just over 18 months ago now, and I’m happy to tell you that I’m still here, but this story isn’t just the story of how I didn’t kill myself, but also the story of how I met the love of my life, how we were bonded through mutually assured survival. We saved each other, but she saved me in more ways than one
We are celebrating our honeymoon now, at a beautiful beach house overlooking the ocean. We chose a location as far from the woods as possible. We are still healing, but we are healing together. Sarah is healing from the trauma of her best friend, Jessica, being murdered. I am healing from years of personal neglect and self-destructive behavior. I didn’t realize how broken I truly was until I met Sarah, and you can’t fix what you don't acknowledge to be broken.
As I sit here now, under the most beautiful sunset I have seen since that fateful day, I finally realize what was missing in my life. What was missing was not just the feeling of being loved, but having somebody to love.
submitted by R-M-Staniforth to scarystories [link] [comments]
I felt completely at peace about it. This time, I was truly ready to die. I felt the scratchy fiber around my neck after slipping the rope over my head. “The forever necklace,” I thought in a dark little joke just for myself. The rope was tied to a metal loop that was drilled into the ceiling truss to be sure that I would not fail. I had never been so determined to accomplish anything in my life the way I was today.
The old wooden chair I stood on creaked and groaned a mournful protest as I lifted my foot, ready to step off the chair. One deep breath, and I could let it all go.
Then, someone knocked on the door.
I froze in exactly that position, one foot on the chair and one foot off, wondering with a sudden twinge of anger who the hell could be knocking on the door. I spent every last dollar I had to rent this remote cabin where I could spend my last weekend in beauty and peace. The intrusive sound boomed again through the empty house, obliterating my illusion of peace.
I slipped the rope back off my neck with irritation and watched it swing back and forth. “Don’t go anywhere now, we’re not done,” I told the rope, before stepping off the chair and heading down the stairs ready to berate the inconsiderate person who ruined my nearly perfect moment.
After squinting through the peephole of the solid wood door, I could see a gangly man wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up tightly over his head. A sharp black beard with speckled gray poked through the hood, and I could see a pointed pale nose, but otherwise, his features were largely hidden. The man was looking down but swayed side to side on his feet impatiently, sending another spark of irritation through my clenched jaw. He knocked again, louder this time.
I pulled the squeaky cabin door open against my better judgment, but he didn’t seem to be leaving on his own and my sudden anger took control of my arm, which reached forward and pulled the door open. “What do you want?” I asked rudely, not even considering the normal pleasantries.
“Good evening, sir,” The stranger said, a little too nicely. As he lifted his head I could see that he had black combed hair matching his fairly well-groomed beard, a bit of gray mixing in with the dark black. A little dash of salt in the pepper, if you will. “My car broke down about a mile down that dirt road and I was wondering if I could use your phone?” The man felt like a used car salesman with his fake, almost painted-on smile and voice that sounded rehearsed.
“I don’t have a phone,” I told him coldly. It was a lie, of course. While my cell had no service, there was a functioning wall-mounted phone in the kitchen. The older type, with a coiled cord connecting it to the wall mount.
“Oh I’m sure you have a phone, all the cabins up here do.” He told me with his wide, aggravating smile.
“Not this one,” I told him shortly, ending the conversation and wanting him gone. I started shutting the door when he stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing me from shutting the door all of the way.
“It’ll only take me 30 seconds then I’ll be gone.”
Anger spiked in me when he blocked my door with his foot, and I thought about slamming his foot with the door. Instead, and without even giving him a response, I pushed him away from the door and slammed it shut. I heard the click of the deadbolt before I even knew I was locking it.
I stood there for a minute, bewildered by the event. A twinge of guilt struck my gut, I felt maybe I should have helped him. The timing was poor, sure, but how was he supposed to know my “grand plans”? But at the same time, why should I help the guy anyway? Nobody had ever lent me a helping hand when I needed it. That’s just how this cruel world works, nobody gives a shit. And who puts their foot in someone's door?
After staring at the door for some time, maybe a minute, maybe 15, I walked back upstairs and peered out through the window to make sure I was alone. He was gone, but I hadn’t seen him leave. A strange uneasiness crept over me. Things weren't going how they were supposed to.
I checked all the windows, looking for the weirdo. Nothing. So I made some quick tea, one last cup of tea sounded nice, and pushed the strange encounter out of my mind. It was time to find my peace again. I realized that the sun was now starting to set over the nearby mountain peaks. Why not watch it? This would be my last sunset, and It sure was a stunning one.
I pulled a cozy recliner chair to the large upstairs window. Brilliant colors of orange and pink now filled the sky. The clouds were broken up, creating the appearance of a large beautiful pathway over the horizon.
It struck me that, there it was, my beautiful pathway to the afterlife had presented itself, and it was time. It was time to take the path laid before me. I thought that maybe this was a sign, a sign that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. I realized I was standing back on the chair but didn't remember deciding to get back up there. I once again placed the rope over my neck, already positioned so that I was facing the sunset. At that moment, I was completely at peace with my death. I started to take that step, and then….
There was knocking at the door.
This wasn’t the customary 3 or 4 knocks followed by waiting that had invaded my peace before, this was loud panicked knocking that startled me so badly that I almost fell off the chair. It seems ironic, that I was about to willingly step off the chair but the next moment I was fighting for balance to not fall.
The loud knocking continued. Once again, my beautiful peaceful moment had been shattered. I removed the rope and went over to the opposite window to see who the hell had screwed everything up. This time, it was not the hooded weirdo standing at the door, It was a girl. She had long dark hair and appeared to be about my age, maybe a little younger, and she was terrified, crying, and panicked, knocking repeatedly and taking constant looks back over her shoulder.
This time I wasn’t overcome with anger, but a deep concern as I ran down the stairs to the door. As I approached the door, I could hear her pleading for help, still pounding on the door. The second I opened the door she pushed herself in, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
“Wh-“ I started asking, but before I could finish my question she slammed into me so unexpectedly I let out an “oof,” but to my surprise, she pulled me into a tight embrace. Never in my life had I felt anybody hug me as tightly as this crying girl was squeezing me right now. I hugged her back, squeezing her just as tight.
“Wha- what’s wrong?” I asked her with genuine concern as I blew her hair out of my face. She pulled back and looked me in the eye. I couldn’t help but notice that, even through her tears and fear-stricken face, she was absolutely beautiful. Her long dark hair complemented those beautiful green eyes in a perfect sort of way that reminded me of the sunset. They were a shade of green that I had never before seen, almost as if it was a new color that had not been discovered until this girl was born. For a moment, I lost myself in her eyes before the exasperating reality slapped me back to the situation at hand.
“He killed her, he killed Jess.”
Confusion quickly turned to a pit deep in my stomach at what she said. “What? Who? Who’s Jess?” I asked her, still holding her tightly.
He- he came to the door,” She started, barely getting the words out through her sobs and deep breaths. “He asked to use the phone so I let him in. But he had a knife and…. and…” The girl burst into uncontrollable sobs and buried her face in my shoulder. She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to, the truth of the situation crashed down on me. The same guy who knocked on my door earlier had visited another cabin, and this woman had watched her friend to stabbed to death.
I wanted to panic the same way she was, but knew with certainty that she needed me to stay calm, or at least seem calm. I quickly walked her into the kitchen, grabbed the phone with hands so shaky I nearly dropped it and dialed 911.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Yeah uh…. My name is Dean Johansen, there’s been a Murder.” It felt weird to say, and a weird fear struck me that maybe the voice on the phone wouldn’t believe me.
“What’s your address, sir?” The quick, professional voice responded.
I gave her the address of the cabin I was staying at, thankfully it was on a card by the landline phone. I asked the girl for the address where the murder happened. She didn’t know, but she managed to tell the operator that her name was Sarah and the victim's name as well as a description of the killer.
“Okay Sir, please lock the doors and stay inside, emergency responders will be there in about 30 minutes.” The phone lady told me in a matter-of-fact tone as if this was a normal Tuesday call to IT.
“30 minutes? What do you mean 30 minutes?” I asked with deep exasperation. “There’s a MURDERER on the loose!”
“I’m sorry sir, that’s the closest law enforcement to you, you’re in a remote area.” In those last words, I could finally hear a tone of emotion, a sadness that she couldn’t help.
Before I could respond, there was a loud knock on the door making us both jump. Sarah cried out loudly and I dropped the phone. I signaled to her with a single finger placed over my lips knowing full well that whoever was at the door would have already heard her cry out, and quietly, I walked to the door and nervously looked through the peephole. My heart slammed into my gut at the sight of the man who stood on the porch. It was him, the hooded car salesman asshole, but now his face and beard were splattered with blood.
“I need to borrow your PHONE!” The man yelled in an unhinged sing-song tone, his fake nice had been replaced with a manic and insane tone matching the crazed look In his eye. BOOM! He kicked the door hard, shaking the door but it held strong. I ran to the kitchen to grab my own knife. Sarah was already holding one. BOOM! There was another kick. We stood there, terrified, and not knowing what to do. I braced for another boom, but there wasn’t one. It was silent.
“You go upstairs,” I told Sarah decisively, “I’ll stay down here just in case.” I had come out here willing and prepared to meet death, Sarah didn’t deserve that though. I had only just met her, but I felt a genuine desire to protect her, and if this is how I went, at least my death had meaning now. I was fine with death, but if he came in I could at least try to take him with me.
Sarah nodded, her eyes wide and shocked, and she headed up the stairs. Just as she crossed the final step, the window of the sliding glass back door exploded as a large rock blasted through. I ducked instinctively as shards of glass rained down on me and looked back up to see the man climbing in through the large broken window, smiling with an expression of adrenalized mania. I grabbed an ugly vase off the nearby end table and threw it at him, grunting with every ounce of strength I could summon. It missed terribly to his left, shattering on the cabinet to his right.
With the knife still in my hand, I picked up a wooden chair and charged at him with bravery and confidence I had never felt before. The chair legs hit him square in the chest and face catching him off guard, but it felt like hitting a brick wall. The recoil of the collision pushed the chair back into my chin and we both were knocked to the ground.
I looked over to see him already getting up, but within distance so I slashed at him with my knife, aiming for the neck. I missed again, but still slashed through his face sending a splatter of blood, but he barely flinched. He immediately slashed right back at me, putting a deep cut into my upper chest. I rolled backward, struggling in a panicked frenzy trying to get to my feet.
Before I was up to my feet, the chair hit me hard in my face and knocked me back to the ground. I staggered back up to my feet despite the black spots from the hit to my head, noting the taste of blood in my mouth while the knife slashed past my throat, narrowly missing me. I started punching and slashing wildly in a frenzy, overcome with an unfamiliar rage that perhaps had been waiting for years to be freed. I admit that I don’t know how to fight, I’d honestly never needed to before, but something was working. I connected at least once more with the knife slicing a fresh wound on his shoulder. He was backing up and then, naturally, I tripped.
My knife clattered on the hardwood floor, I rose to my knees reaching for the knife but was knocked down from a hard kick to my side. Every last molecule of oxygen in my lungs was expelled from my body with a disgusting grunt. I tried to breathe and regain myself but only found an excruciating sharp pain in my ribs from where I was kicked. The man stood over me, a triumphant sneer on his face, ready to bring the knife down on me. Suddenly, I didn’t want to die anymore.
As the man started to bring the knife down, a chair crashed into his upper back and his head splintering with impact. He cried out in fury as the knife fell from his hand and he fell to his knees while I rolled away to lengthen the distance. I saw Sarah’s wide-eyed face looking down from over the loft banister, she had thrown the chair that had kept me from getting stabbed right there on the floor. It was the chair I had been standing on when Sarah arrived.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The man yelled out, already back on his feet and armed. He started running to the stairs with his knife hand. Sarah was screaming as he seemed to forget about me and set his predatory sight on her. Her screams sparked a new sense of urgent adrenaline and I found myself picking up my knife and running after him despite the pain.
Sarah was backed into a corner holding her large kitchen knife in front of her in both fear and bold defiance, while the intruder looked for his opportunity to make his move. He slashed at her, missing short but causing her to flinch badly. Before he could take a follow-up shot, I slammed the knife square into his upper back. The blade penetrated the right of his spine with a dull sound accompanied by a horrific crack that must have been a rib giving way.
The man collapsed to his knees while I pushed into the handle of the knife trying to drive it deeper. He let out a roar of pure rage and pushed back against me. I tried to drive him to the ground but he was stronger than I, even with the knife in his back, and was able to struggle to his feet.
While this was happening, I saw Sarah running through the door with my rope. Instantly, I understood her plan. I wrapped my arms around his waist and arms, clasping my hands in front to trap his arms at his sides. I squeezed as tight as I possibly could as Sarah slipped the noose over his head. He was fighting violently now, and I struggled to restrain him. I held on as tight as I could, but the grip of my hands was starting to slip. Sarah was hurriedly tying the other end of the rope to the banister with shaky hands.
With a sudden burst of strength, my grip failed and the killer broke his arms free and lunged at Sarah. I charged at him, putting my shoulder into his side like a regular rugby player, pushing him toward the banister. Sarah jumped into the fight as well, throwing her weight into him. Together, we put all the remaining energy we had into one final push, knocking the killer over the banister and off the loft.
The rope caught. With an audible CRACK, his fall was broken, as was his neck. Both of our knots had held. The body swayed gently over the living room suspended by a noose tied to the banister. My noose.
Sarah and I sat outside, waiting for the police to arrive. We’d walked out there, or rather she awkwardly helped me. After the moment was done, all of the physical pain came crashing into me at once. She was holding a bathroom towel over the deep cut in my chest, which was bleeding profusely and soaking my once white shirt in crimson.
As the cool mountainous air started bringing my body temperature to a reasonable level, she broke the awkward silence addressing the elephant in the room. The elephant being the noose that had been hanging in the bedroom. “Were you going to…?”.
“Yes,” I admitted, looking down at my knees. I didn’t need her to finish the question, I knew what she meant.
Sarah gently grasped my chin and pulled it up. “Please don’t,” she told me, looking into my eyes. I once again saw in her teary eyes just how beautiful she was. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
“I won’t,” I promised, surprised to hear the words from my lips with tears now finding their way down my face, and I meant it.
That was just over 18 months ago now, and I’m happy to tell you that I’m still here, but this story isn’t just the story of how I didn’t kill myself, but also the story of how I met the love of my life, how we were bonded through mutually assured survival. We saved each other, but she saved me in more ways than one
We are celebrating our honeymoon now, at a beautiful beach house overlooking the ocean. We chose a location as far from the woods as possible. We are still healing, but we are healing together. Sarah is healing from the trauma of her best friend, Jessica, being murdered. I am healing from years of personal neglect and self-destructive behavior. I didn’t realize how broken I truly was until I met Sarah, and you can’t fix what you don't acknowledge to be broken.
As I sit here now, under the most beautiful sunset I have seen since that fateful day, I finally realize what was missing in my life. What was missing was not just the feeling of being loved, but having somebody to love.