1989 miss america swimsuit pix
Credit cards to get approved easly ?
2024.05.16 07:12 Intelligent-Roof4555 Credit cards to get approved easly ?
I am 19 years old. I have a secure credit card with Bank of America that I had for about 7-8 months. Never missed a payment. I wanted something with a bigger limit without having to put my own money into the account so I applied for the Amazon prime visa and I currently have it for a month. This month I make my first payment witb that card. Is only for 500$ and is not enough. I really would like to stop using my normal card and cash but I currently applied for example the chase freedom unlimited and then chase sapphire preferred and both got denied. I’m still waiting for the letter so I can see why amd May be call them too to se if they can change their mind. But otherwise I really would like to see other options.
submitted by Intelligent-Roof4555 to CreditCards [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 07:05 BruhEmperor Freedom National Convention of 1904 American Interflow Timeline
 | A certain echo drapes the Freedomite National Convention in one Monday afternoon. “Utter folly!”, yells a voice from the crowd. It was Miss Caroline. The daughter of the late president—and some call dictator—P.T. Barnum. Mrs. Barnum would rush to the Convention Chairman Russell B. Harrison, the son of the very candidate that ran against her father, Barnum would hand Harrison a note before quickly scurrying off the convention. Members of the crowd demanded Harrison read out the note. The note was handed to Hamilton Fish II to be read along to the attendees. “My father laughs at this party from the grave.”. Those words shook, but understandably resolved the feelings, of many present. Many were already uneasy, President Chaffee had already been renominated for President unanimously by the Patriots. The Freedomites had come last of the major in every election since the end of President P.T. Barnum’s tenure. Stirring opinions for the need of change, yet also calls for a return to tradition. Many in the party had been split on the policies made during President Chaffee’s tenure, with some more agreeing with his policies than others. The high stakes for the nomination would lead to Freedomite coming in droves to support their new shining star. submitted by BruhEmperor to Presidentialpoll [link] [comments] The Freedom Party National Convention was held at New Haven, Connecticut on June 6th, 1904. Inside the Freedom National Convention Joseph Gurney Cannon - Mr. Cannon had already lost 1900, why make him lead ‘04? A common cry shared among many who wanted a shift in grand party in ideology. Yet to many, Cannon was exactly what the party needs to revert back to tradition. Cannon support the Barnum administration and martial law, suing the Illinois electoral commission for omitting Whitelaw Reid from the 1888 ballot. A conservative stalwart and the “big bully” of Congress, 67-year old “Uncle Joe” was instrumental in securing the German peace deal in the Philippines, homeland army modernization efforts, and demanded diplomatic action be done against Russia during the ACCEC-KVZhD incident. Fiercely nationalistic and isolationist, unlike President Barnum, Cannon would reject imperialism and foreign meddling and deemed intervention only necessary if it directly threatened the US. Once deeming “To the world, their own. To the United States, its own.”. Cannon would also oppose Chaffee’s shift away from the gold standard to fiat money, the heightened regulations, the continued troop sending to American-occupied Fujian and the Congo General Administration, and the expansive powers give to the presidential cabinet. Cannon would advocate an "All-American Homeland Policy", with eyes of politics being strictly observant of the issues at home, not abroad. Cannon would be called hypocritical by many, due to his work in securing agreements with foreign nations, but his efforts would please nationalists as him simply defending the American honor. Cannon with US Ambassador to the United Kingdom Robert Todd Lincoln Henry Cabot Lodge - As the feelings of imperialism ran high, so did it root into major political figures. Replacing the radical Edward Bellamy as Senator from Massachusetts, the freshman senator was thrusted into the national spotlight as an American representative for the Treaty of São Paulo. Though his work was eclipsed by the work of the renowned George von Lengerke Meyer, the stunt gained Lodge a standing nationally. As the now 53-year old now seasoned Senator Henry Cabot Lodge enters the running for the nomination, his resume has now far exceeded his old one four years ago. Supporting the occupation of Fujian province, the defensive of the Filipino republics against the Germans, the American presence in the Congo General Administration, the solidification of Bahia Blanca as American territory, support of corporate regulations, and calling to occupy or annex the remaining praia states of the world. Lodge would position himself with the imperialists, with a traditional conservative flair. Perhaps Lodge’s most divisive position would be his support of Public Safety Secretary Edward Carmack. Carmack’s mass immigration policies and usage of BPS to hunt down the “high-grade criminal” got the support of Lodge in Congress. Lodge even hosted a party in honor of the Massachusetts chapter of the Hancockian Corps. Lodge would support the gold standard and opposing the lax tariff policies of the administration. Lodge’s public opinions about his support of imperialism and the “Chaffean Policy” pushes him firmly to one faction of the party, as the other factions would faint to the notion of his nomination. Official congressional photo of Senator Henry Cabot Lodge Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. - A scholar, a jurist, and an educator. Son of one of the most esteemed American poets and once presidential aspirant Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., the younger Holmes once dreamed of reaching the highest court of the nation. But being thrusted into the Senate by the Massachusetts opposition who rejected another Adams entering office, Holmes was dragged into a political hellscape even he saw as tiring and petty. Nevertheless, Holmes made work as senator, being renowned as a progressive and logician. Holmes would oppose imperialism and interventionism, demanding America’s legacy of isolationism continue on to this era. Once stating that "...if the United States made of the world its heated enemy, then none shall be surprise at its immediate collapse in warfare at the hands of the world." Holmes would act more as a lawyer than a traditional politician in the Senate, often defending his positions in common debates with his opponents. Senator George Murray would say that "None understands the complexity and framework created by the founders regarding the Constitution more than Senator Holmes.". One of the signatories of the “Declaration of National Renouncement”, declaring his opposition to Edward Carmack and the BPS’s actions and demanding his resignation and the restructuring of the bureau. Holmes would also support massive regulations on monopolies and oppose the fiat money policy. Though not that interested of the presidency, the progressive and anti-imperialists of the party saw Holmes as the best chance of ascension. They would campaign on his behalf and fashioned him as a spiritual successor to Hale and Clay. Senator James R. Garfield of Ohio would campaign for his colleague, declaring him “…the last hope of American reform and readjustment.”. Senator Oliver Wendell Holmes William Howard Taft - Once described as the “softer Taft”, not only as a jab for his figure but also his approach to politics compared that of his brother. Placed by his powerful brother as the overseer of the American occupation forces of Fujian and the American ambassador to the Bonifacian Filipino Republic (officially the Sovereign Tagalog Republic). Young Taft was renowned for his diligent and pragmatic work as a diplomat. Taft’s efforts and reforms in Fujian already uncovered a steadily growing “Americanized” society in the province, lifting its population from the repression of the former Qing government into the American brand of modernization. Praised by seemingly all members of the Freedomite factions, a praise for diplomacy only behind that of George von Lengerke Meyer. His general popularly and esteem made him an attractive candidate for a unifying nominee. Though Taft himself preferred his diplomatic station, or possibly a station in the US Supreme Court like Holmes before him, many influences continued to sway Taft to seek the nomination. One of those surprisingly being Commonwealth House Leader Theodore Roosevelt, who had a personal friendship with Taft, and continued to encourage him to seek the high office. His brother Charlie, the Freedomite House Leader, certainly would be please if his brother would be elevated to the high office. Taft continues to be slightly reluctant, though many recognize the pressure would certain thrust him into acceptance. Senator William McKinley would say in Taft's support "Many men here have individual commendable qualities, but Mr. Taft was gifted with truly presidential ones.". Taft with the \"Taft Commission\", his diplomatic staff who aid him with his daunting diplomatic tasks View Poll |
2024.05.16 06:46 UnEngineering Chinese girl, American University, White guy
I'm an engineering graduate student at a very famous university. She's a different kind of STEM grad student at the same university (mid-twenties). She has only been in America for a few years. Before everyone jumps and says "Chinese girls are just like American girls" the reason that I'm making this post is because i'm afraid that i'm missing some cultural norm or context, causing me to screw up the situation. Dating in America is fairly toxic, in my opinion. It seems as though it's often a contest of who can appear to be the least interested. My Chinese colleagues tell me that Chinese girls need to be chased a bit harder. That they're more pragmatic, so a guy who shows little interest would not be a good long term investment for a Chinese girl. Also, I realize that I'm anxious and insecure so there's no need to over-emphasize this in your response. Ultimately, I'm really sad for how this has turned out, but friends of mine tell me things are probably going as well as they could be. With that out of the way, I hope to hear your thoughts on my story.
Back up to a few months ago. I see this girl at the gym quite frequently. One day she asked how many sets I have on a machine. There are very few machines at the school gym so I get this question from girls quite frequently. Anyway, in between sets, I chatted her up, made little jokes "where did you do undergrad? ... well, no one's perfect" ... "I'm going to ask you five questions, and to win, you need to give me incorrect answers only"... she seemed to enjoy this, was smiling a lot, and when I'd see her from across the gym, she would smile and wave. Anyway, some weeks passed and I would see her at the gym occasionally. I would try to get her to play along with fantasies about robbing a bank together, but she didn't seem to follow, and would ask what I meant, perhaps because of the language barrier, perhaps because she's a STEM girl. I noticed that she actually cheated at the "wrong answers" game by changing one of her answers, so I called her out on it the next time I saw her. "how do I know I can trust you?" :)
I probably went too far the next time that I saw her. I was nervous but planning to get her number "has anyone ever told you that you're super cute, but super annoying?" She gave me a big embarrassed/confused smile and said "WHAT?!". I asked how we might continue the conversation, she suggested instagram, but I presented my phone number keypad. She looked around a bit embarrassed and reluctantly typed her number in. I didn't call her. I figured that was already too intense. I texted her and told her to save my name as "(My name) - such and such clever hot fantasy thing". She laughed let me know she saved it (!).
I saw her around campus a few days later, she smiled and waved to me. I figured that I hadn't screwed up too badly yet. A couple of days later I saw her at the gym, tried to make the joke about robbing a bank, again, but she asked what I meant. I guess that didn't go over well and I don't remember exactly how the conversation ended. I called her later that night and she didn't respond. I texted her and told her that I just had a quick question and she could call back if she would like, but that there was no pressure to do so. She responded with laughing emojis and asked if I wouldn't mind texting. I texted her an invite for coffee, but told her to hold the flowers and chocolates since we just met. She laughed, said thank you but she's too busy lately, and let me know that she would see me "at the gym sometime!". Fairly disappointed, I said "cool, shoot me a text or call sometime". She hearted the message (ouch). I thought this was a death knell, but friends of mine encouraged me to keep trying. "She's probably attracted to you, but not comfortable enough yet."
So the next time I saw her at the gym, I said "Hey!" gave her a Hi-five and kept going. She looked embarrassed, so I didn't want to stick around in case she needed space. A couple of days later, we were at the gym together, but I didn't want to come off as upset or needy, so I kept my head in my phone. I figured that maybe she had had enough. Anyway, this time, she actually said hello to me as she walked by. So of course, I smiled and said hi back. We would see each other about once per week, making small talk. I told her that she had a pretty voice. Rather than leaving the complement there (too much tension), I asked if she could sing, found out that we both like Karaoke, and told her we should start a rock band. This was a joke of course, it seems that the two of us have little time for a life outside of our research.
I texted her the next day, told her that I am curious about her thoughts on American vs. Chinese culture, and about why she was considering saying in the US after graduation. Told her that I enjoy our chats together, and was hoping that she would consider joining my American rock band (Laughing emoji). Try-outs to be held at the Karaoke lounge nearby. She didn't respond and I was quite disappointed again.
I happened to be walking on campus last week and we ran into each other (very unusual) so I asked if she had a minute to talk. She was on her way to a meeting, so I suggested that we meet up after that. She told me to text her. So naturally, I texted her, and this time she agreed to meet! (Last Tuesday) I was more excited that day than any time I can remember, at least for the past few years.
So we met up that afternoon and she suggested that we sit on the grass together. She smiled and asked me why we couldn't just continue talking at the gym together. I can't believe that she doesn't know why I was asking her out for a second time. She must have been looking for emotional reassurance or something like this. I told her it's hard to get to know someone if you only ever see them at the gym, smiled, and playfully said, "but maybe this is a one-sided relationship, don't worry, I'll just be crying myself to sleep, no big deal". I tried to say this in a light-hearted way so that it wasn't too intense. She was wearing large sunglasses this day (relevant later), I asked her to take them off but she refused, "OK, no problem". I then did a cold read routine on her, as an ice-breaker. She corrected me when I was wrong and told me that I was only about 2/10 correct. Typical STEM girl. It sounded like she's a workaholic (not uncommon for our university) and that she had trouble not thinking about work. I thought it was a nice time, as we got to learn a bit more about each other. She told me that she would be away on an internship for the summer, but she would be back. I made a joke about how my heart broke for a second but was quickly mended. I told her that I realized that she seemed uncomfortable when I had asked for her number, that i had felt a bit guilty about it, but that I was really glad that she did it anyway. She seemed to be trying to correct me under her breath "no no no" or something, as if to say "it's ok". Our "date" didn't last very long, less than a half hour, and she went back into her office building. She said goodbye to me, but only said the first syllable of my name (very cute). If she had been an American girl, I would have made an effort to at least touch her shoulder or hug goodbye, but my understanding is that this would be too much for a Chinese girl. My Chinese friend (Call him Tadashii, introduced again later) said that this was the right thing to do. I had previously dated a Chinese girl who wouldn't even hub me until I told her I wanted to date exclusively, several months into the relationship.
I was stoked for the rest of the day, so excited that I had finally been able to make plans to be with her alone, however short it was. I wanted to send a follow-up text, but held myself back and waited for about 42 hours (Thursday). I told her that I really enjoyed seeing her, I was happy that we had the opportunity to learn something about each other, and complimented her suggestion of sitting out on the grass together.
When she didn't respond, I was once again, fairly anxious and upset. I tried very much to keep it to myself.
The next day, I saw her at the gym again (Friday). This time, she seemed to be in a bad mood. She wasn't resting between sets and I got the feeling that she was avoiding me. Before I left, I approached her anyway (mistake?). I asked if we could exchange socials that are popular in her country, and she said "No, I don't add people on that". According to my Chinese friends, this was BS because everyone uses this app. She quickly shut down my attempts at conversation. I tried to go into a story about the school newspaper and she said "no, I don't want to hear about it" while perhaps forcing a smile. I realized that she was either in a bad mood, or really did not want to speak with, or both. So I said "ok, have a good night" and went home feeling very bad once again. Backing up a few steps, I noticed that she had a large pimple near her eye this day, which would explain why she hadn't wanted to take off her sunglasses while we were hanging out together on the grass. It could also suggest that she was too embarrassed for me to see her. She is an incredibly beautiful girl and clearly puts a lot of effort into her appearance so this could have easily been what caused her mood to shift so dramatically last week. I know what acne does to someone's self confidence, as i struggled with it frequently when I was younger. It must be ten times worse for women.
I guess this is a stressful time for the girl, and my advances haven't been making things easier on her. It would be quite tragic if I gave up simply because I had misread the circumstances. Of course, I don't know what she's thinking and I'm really worried about trying too hard. I'm used to girls responding to my follow-up text after a date with either enthusiasm, or by letting me know that a second date wasn't going to happen.
My Chinese colleague Tadashii, who seems to have good intuition on relationships with Chinese women gave me his input. He told me that Chinese women may very between chaos and order rapidly, like the Dao, in order to "test" men. They want to see that a man is actually dedicated. Further, a Chinese girl may have a stereotypical view of American men as "players" who only want to hook up. She is probably scared that I'm like this. He emphasized that this was only one data point in a series of mostly positive interactions. The 180-degree shift in demeanor could indicate a bad day or stressful period, but if a girl is truly disinterested, she would probably let me know at some point. His suggestion is to wait a month, until the girl is settled into her internship life. At that time, she would probably appreciate someone friendly reaching out to her to check in. In this way, we might have a text correspondence. This is something that I would never usually do, but he said it's typical for Chinese people to chat over apps or text while maintaining a long-distance friendship. He also mentioned that he's made girlfriends this way.
She will likely be away for two to three months. I haven't even found out where she was going. I usually try not to get girls thinking about work on dates, asking basic questions like "what do you do..." (no fun) but in this case, it was actually logistically relevant. oops. My plan is to follow Tadashii's advice. Maybe I'll see the girl at the gym again on Friday this week (38 hours from now). My American friends say that I should let her approach me this time. They also say that I should try to catch her again in the Fall when she returns. Tadashii says that waiting until the Fall is too long. This would send her the message that I was intimidated by her emotional response last week, or that I really was just an American player, and. not very serious about her.
So am I blown out, or should I hold on to the anxious pain of hope? Thanks in advance for your input.
submitted by UnEngineering to dating_advice [link] [comments]
Back up to a few months ago. I see this girl at the gym quite frequently. One day she asked how many sets I have on a machine. There are very few machines at the school gym so I get this question from girls quite frequently. Anyway, in between sets, I chatted her up, made little jokes "where did you do undergrad? ... well, no one's perfect" ... "I'm going to ask you five questions, and to win, you need to give me incorrect answers only"... she seemed to enjoy this, was smiling a lot, and when I'd see her from across the gym, she would smile and wave. Anyway, some weeks passed and I would see her at the gym occasionally. I would try to get her to play along with fantasies about robbing a bank together, but she didn't seem to follow, and would ask what I meant, perhaps because of the language barrier, perhaps because she's a STEM girl. I noticed that she actually cheated at the "wrong answers" game by changing one of her answers, so I called her out on it the next time I saw her. "how do I know I can trust you?" :)
I probably went too far the next time that I saw her. I was nervous but planning to get her number "has anyone ever told you that you're super cute, but super annoying?" She gave me a big embarrassed/confused smile and said "WHAT?!". I asked how we might continue the conversation, she suggested instagram, but I presented my phone number keypad. She looked around a bit embarrassed and reluctantly typed her number in. I didn't call her. I figured that was already too intense. I texted her and told her to save my name as "(My name) - such and such clever hot fantasy thing". She laughed let me know she saved it (!).
I saw her around campus a few days later, she smiled and waved to me. I figured that I hadn't screwed up too badly yet. A couple of days later I saw her at the gym, tried to make the joke about robbing a bank, again, but she asked what I meant. I guess that didn't go over well and I don't remember exactly how the conversation ended. I called her later that night and she didn't respond. I texted her and told her that I just had a quick question and she could call back if she would like, but that there was no pressure to do so. She responded with laughing emojis and asked if I wouldn't mind texting. I texted her an invite for coffee, but told her to hold the flowers and chocolates since we just met. She laughed, said thank you but she's too busy lately, and let me know that she would see me "at the gym sometime!". Fairly disappointed, I said "cool, shoot me a text or call sometime". She hearted the message (ouch). I thought this was a death knell, but friends of mine encouraged me to keep trying. "She's probably attracted to you, but not comfortable enough yet."
So the next time I saw her at the gym, I said "Hey!" gave her a Hi-five and kept going. She looked embarrassed, so I didn't want to stick around in case she needed space. A couple of days later, we were at the gym together, but I didn't want to come off as upset or needy, so I kept my head in my phone. I figured that maybe she had had enough. Anyway, this time, she actually said hello to me as she walked by. So of course, I smiled and said hi back. We would see each other about once per week, making small talk. I told her that she had a pretty voice. Rather than leaving the complement there (too much tension), I asked if she could sing, found out that we both like Karaoke, and told her we should start a rock band. This was a joke of course, it seems that the two of us have little time for a life outside of our research.
I texted her the next day, told her that I am curious about her thoughts on American vs. Chinese culture, and about why she was considering saying in the US after graduation. Told her that I enjoy our chats together, and was hoping that she would consider joining my American rock band (Laughing emoji). Try-outs to be held at the Karaoke lounge nearby. She didn't respond and I was quite disappointed again.
I happened to be walking on campus last week and we ran into each other (very unusual) so I asked if she had a minute to talk. She was on her way to a meeting, so I suggested that we meet up after that. She told me to text her. So naturally, I texted her, and this time she agreed to meet! (Last Tuesday) I was more excited that day than any time I can remember, at least for the past few years.
So we met up that afternoon and she suggested that we sit on the grass together. She smiled and asked me why we couldn't just continue talking at the gym together. I can't believe that she doesn't know why I was asking her out for a second time. She must have been looking for emotional reassurance or something like this. I told her it's hard to get to know someone if you only ever see them at the gym, smiled, and playfully said, "but maybe this is a one-sided relationship, don't worry, I'll just be crying myself to sleep, no big deal". I tried to say this in a light-hearted way so that it wasn't too intense. She was wearing large sunglasses this day (relevant later), I asked her to take them off but she refused, "OK, no problem". I then did a cold read routine on her, as an ice-breaker. She corrected me when I was wrong and told me that I was only about 2/10 correct. Typical STEM girl. It sounded like she's a workaholic (not uncommon for our university) and that she had trouble not thinking about work. I thought it was a nice time, as we got to learn a bit more about each other. She told me that she would be away on an internship for the summer, but she would be back. I made a joke about how my heart broke for a second but was quickly mended. I told her that I realized that she seemed uncomfortable when I had asked for her number, that i had felt a bit guilty about it, but that I was really glad that she did it anyway. She seemed to be trying to correct me under her breath "no no no" or something, as if to say "it's ok". Our "date" didn't last very long, less than a half hour, and she went back into her office building. She said goodbye to me, but only said the first syllable of my name (very cute). If she had been an American girl, I would have made an effort to at least touch her shoulder or hug goodbye, but my understanding is that this would be too much for a Chinese girl. My Chinese friend (Call him Tadashii, introduced again later) said that this was the right thing to do. I had previously dated a Chinese girl who wouldn't even hub me until I told her I wanted to date exclusively, several months into the relationship.
I was stoked for the rest of the day, so excited that I had finally been able to make plans to be with her alone, however short it was. I wanted to send a follow-up text, but held myself back and waited for about 42 hours (Thursday). I told her that I really enjoyed seeing her, I was happy that we had the opportunity to learn something about each other, and complimented her suggestion of sitting out on the grass together.
When she didn't respond, I was once again, fairly anxious and upset. I tried very much to keep it to myself.
The next day, I saw her at the gym again (Friday). This time, she seemed to be in a bad mood. She wasn't resting between sets and I got the feeling that she was avoiding me. Before I left, I approached her anyway (mistake?). I asked if we could exchange socials that are popular in her country, and she said "No, I don't add people on that". According to my Chinese friends, this was BS because everyone uses this app. She quickly shut down my attempts at conversation. I tried to go into a story about the school newspaper and she said "no, I don't want to hear about it" while perhaps forcing a smile. I realized that she was either in a bad mood, or really did not want to speak with, or both. So I said "ok, have a good night" and went home feeling very bad once again. Backing up a few steps, I noticed that she had a large pimple near her eye this day, which would explain why she hadn't wanted to take off her sunglasses while we were hanging out together on the grass. It could also suggest that she was too embarrassed for me to see her. She is an incredibly beautiful girl and clearly puts a lot of effort into her appearance so this could have easily been what caused her mood to shift so dramatically last week. I know what acne does to someone's self confidence, as i struggled with it frequently when I was younger. It must be ten times worse for women.
I guess this is a stressful time for the girl, and my advances haven't been making things easier on her. It would be quite tragic if I gave up simply because I had misread the circumstances. Of course, I don't know what she's thinking and I'm really worried about trying too hard. I'm used to girls responding to my follow-up text after a date with either enthusiasm, or by letting me know that a second date wasn't going to happen.
My Chinese colleague Tadashii, who seems to have good intuition on relationships with Chinese women gave me his input. He told me that Chinese women may very between chaos and order rapidly, like the Dao, in order to "test" men. They want to see that a man is actually dedicated. Further, a Chinese girl may have a stereotypical view of American men as "players" who only want to hook up. She is probably scared that I'm like this. He emphasized that this was only one data point in a series of mostly positive interactions. The 180-degree shift in demeanor could indicate a bad day or stressful period, but if a girl is truly disinterested, she would probably let me know at some point. His suggestion is to wait a month, until the girl is settled into her internship life. At that time, she would probably appreciate someone friendly reaching out to her to check in. In this way, we might have a text correspondence. This is something that I would never usually do, but he said it's typical for Chinese people to chat over apps or text while maintaining a long-distance friendship. He also mentioned that he's made girlfriends this way.
She will likely be away for two to three months. I haven't even found out where she was going. I usually try not to get girls thinking about work on dates, asking basic questions like "what do you do..." (no fun) but in this case, it was actually logistically relevant. oops. My plan is to follow Tadashii's advice. Maybe I'll see the girl at the gym again on Friday this week (38 hours from now). My American friends say that I should let her approach me this time. They also say that I should try to catch her again in the Fall when she returns. Tadashii says that waiting until the Fall is too long. This would send her the message that I was intimidated by her emotional response last week, or that I really was just an American player, and. not very serious about her.
So am I blown out, or should I hold on to the anxious pain of hope? Thanks in advance for your input.
2024.05.16 06:26 Sweet-Count2557 The 18 Best Fast Food Restaurant in New York City,NY,United States (2023)
 | The 18 Best Fast Food Restaurant in New York City,NY,United States (2023) submitted by Sweet-Count2557 to worldkidstravel [link] [comments] Discover the top 18 fast food restaurants in New York City, NY. Indulge in delicious and quick meals at these popular spots, offering a variety of cuisines to satisfy your cravings. Brooklyn Bagel & Coffee Company Welcome to Brooklyn Bagel & Coffee Company, your go-to destination for mouthwatering bagels and delicious coffee. With over 15 years of experience, we have been proudly serving the communities of Manhattan and Astoria. Our kettle-boiled and hand-rolled bagels offer a delightful crunch that leads you to the chewy center, making every bite a memorable experience. Whether you prefer our bagels with cream cheese spreads, smoked fish, or egg breakfast, we have something to satisfy every craving. And don't forget to pair your meal with a cup of our own single-origin Colombia coffee, brewed to perfection. Join our community and embark on a delectable journey with us! Kiss My Slice After more than twenty-five (25+) years in the food service business, Kiss My Slice was opened in 2013 by a husband and wife team. The idea was to bring things back to the beginning - where it all started - PIZZA! Good quality at a fair price, great service, tasty, hot and delicious! Come in and grab a quick slice, or sit down with some friends and enjoy the best fresh handmade pizza in Manhattan from Kiss My Slice. Stone Bridge Pizza & Salad At Stone Bridge Pizza & Salad, we pride ourselves on offering farm-to-table artisanal pizzas and salads made with the finest ingredients. Our commitment to using locally grown produce from our very own Stone Bridge Farm in upstate NY ensures that our dishes are not only delicious but also sustainable. We employ the latest sustainable farming techniques, which are not only good for the environment but also good for you. Our menu allows our guests to customize their individual size 10-inch thin crust pizzas, choosing from a wide variety of fresh ingredients. Alternatively, they can opt for one of our signature house pies. In addition to our pizzas, we also offer a selection of fine-dining quality salads, made fresh daily and available from our convenient grab-and-go display. To complement our food, we have a range of hand-crafted fountain sodas from Boylan, as well as all-natural sweet teas and juices. Pret A Manger Founded in London in 1986, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant serving organic coffee, hot breakfast, sandwiches, salads and wraps made throughout the day using carefully sourced ingredients. Every night, Pret donates their unsold food to food rescue organizations to feed those in need. Pret currently has over 500 shops in nine countries with over 90 locations in New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey and Philadelphia. Pret A Manger is known for its commitment to providing fresh and healthy food options. With a focus on organic coffee and carefully sourced ingredients, customers can enjoy a guilt-free meal at any time of the day. Whether you're in the mood for a hearty breakfast, a satisfying sandwich, or a refreshing salad, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. One of the unique aspects of Pret A Manger is their dedication to reducing food waste. By donating their unsold food to food rescue organizations, they are able to help feed those in need and make a positive impact on the community. This commitment to sustainability sets Pret A Manger apart from other restaurants and makes them a popular choice for conscious consumers. With over 500 shops in nine countries, Pret A Manger has become a global phenomenon. Their expansion into major cities like New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey, and Philadelphia has allowed more people to experience their delicious and nutritious offerings. Whether you're a local or a tourist, you can easily find a Pret A Manger location nearby to satisfy your cravings. In conclusion, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant that offers a wide range of fresh and healthy food options. With their commitment to using carefully sourced ingredients and reducing food waste, they have become a popular choice for conscious consumers. Whether you're looking for a quick breakfast, a satisfying lunch, or a light dinner, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. With over 90 locations in major cities across the United States, it's easy to find a Pret A Manger shop nearby and enjoy their delicious offerings. Pret A Manger Founded in London in 1986, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant serving organic coffee, hot breakfast, sandwiches, salads and wraps made throughout the day using carefully sourced ingredients. Every night, Pret donates their unsold food to food rescue organizations to feed those in need. Pret currently has over 500 shops in nine countries with over 90 locations in New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey and Philadelphia. Pret A Manger is known for its commitment to providing fresh and healthy food options. With a focus on organic coffee and carefully sourced ingredients, customers can enjoy a guilt-free meal at any time of the day. Whether you're in the mood for a hearty breakfast, a satisfying sandwich, or a refreshing salad, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. One of the unique aspects of Pret A Manger is their dedication to reducing food waste. By donating their unsold food to food rescue organizations, they are able to help feed those in need and make a positive impact on the community. This commitment to sustainability sets Pret A Manger apart from other restaurants and makes them a popular choice for conscious consumers. With over 500 shops in nine countries, Pret A Manger has become a global phenomenon. Their expansion into major cities like New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey, and Philadelphia has allowed more people to experience their delicious and nutritious offerings. Whether you're a local or a tourist, you can easily find a Pret A Manger location nearby to satisfy your cravings. In conclusion, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant that offers a wide range of fresh and healthy food options. With their commitment to using carefully sourced ingredients and reducing food waste, they have become a popular choice for conscious consumers. Whether you're looking for a quick breakfast, a satisfying lunch, or a light dinner, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. With over 90 locations in major cities across the United States, it's easy to find a Pret A Manger shop nearby and enjoy their delicious offerings. Pret A Manger Founded in London in 1986, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant serving organic coffee, hot breakfast, sandwiches, salads and wraps made throughout the day using carefully sourced ingredients. Every night, Pret donates their unsold food to food rescue organizations to feed those in need. Pret currently has over 500 shops in nine countries with over 90 locations in New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey and Philadelphia. Pret A Manger is known for its commitment to providing fresh and healthy food options. With a focus on organic coffee and carefully sourced ingredients, customers can enjoy a guilt-free meal at any time of the day. Whether you're in the mood for a hearty breakfast, a satisfying sandwich, or a refreshing salad, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. One of the unique aspects of Pret A Manger is their dedication to reducing food waste. By donating their unsold food to food rescue organizations, they are able to help feed those in need and make a positive impact on the community. This commitment to sustainability sets Pret A Manger apart from other restaurants and makes them a popular choice for conscious consumers. With over 500 shops in nine countries, Pret A Manger has become a global phenomenon. Their expansion into major cities like New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey, and Philadelphia has allowed more people to experience their delicious and nutritious offerings. Whether you're a local or a tourist, you can easily find a Pret A Manger location nearby to satisfy your cravings. In conclusion, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant that offers a wide range of fresh and healthy food options. With their commitment to using carefully sourced ingredients and reducing food waste, they have become a popular choice for conscious consumers. Whether you're looking for a quick breakfast, a satisfying lunch, or a light dinner, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. With over 90 locations in major cities across the United States, it's easy to find a Pret A Manger shop nearby and enjoy their delicious offerings. Pret A Manger Founded in London in 1986, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant serving organic coffee, hot breakfast, sandwiches, salads and wraps made throughout the day using carefully sourced ingredients. Every night, Pret donates their unsold food to food rescue organizations to feed those in need. Pret currently has over 500 shops in nine countries with over 90 locations in New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey and Philadelphia. Pret A Manger is known for its commitment to providing fresh and healthy food options. With a focus on organic coffee and carefully sourced ingredients, customers can enjoy a guilt-free meal at any time of the day. Whether you're in the mood for a hearty breakfast, a satisfying sandwich, or a refreshing salad, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. One of the unique aspects of Pret A Manger is their dedication to reducing food waste. By donating their unsold food to food rescue organizations, they are able to help feed those in need and make a positive impact on the community. This commitment to sustainability sets Pret A Manger apart from other restaurants and makes them a popular choice for conscious consumers. With over 500 shops in nine countries, Pret A Manger has become a global phenomenon. Their expansion into major cities like New York, DC, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey, and Philadelphia has allowed more people to experience their delicious and nutritious offerings. Whether you're a local or a tourist, you can easily find a Pret A Manger location nearby to satisfy your cravings. In conclusion, Pret A Manger is a fast casual restaurant that offers a wide range of fresh and healthy food options. With their commitment to using carefully sourced ingredients and reducing food waste, they have become a popular choice for conscious consumers. Whether you're looking for a quick breakfast, a satisfying lunch, or a light dinner, Pret A Manger has something for everyone. With over 90 locations in major cities across the United States, it's easy to find a Pret A Manger shop nearby and enjoy their delicious offerings. Bleecker Street Pizza Bleecker Street Pizza: Home of the famous and award-winning Nona Maria Pie, Bleecker Street Pizza serves consistently delicious pizza with the best dough, sauce, and ingredients in Old West Village! Feel free to create your ideal pizza and add as many toppings as you'd like. Or try our customer favorite specialty pizza from an old family recipe, Nona Maria Pie. This amazing thin crust pizza is loaded with fresh mozzarella, homemade marinara sauce, the finest parmesan, and fresh basil. With generous portions and unbeatable flavors, we always have fresh and delicious entrees including gluten-free pizzas, calzones, salads, pasta, and more! Bleecker Street Pizza offers beer and wine, and all items are made to order. We are dedicated to providing our customers with speedy service and high-quality ingredients. With affordable prices and excellent service, Bleecker Street Pizza has the best pizza that will keep you coming back for more. Come get your slice today! Established in 2004, Bleecker Street Pizza has been serving New York since then. Our mission is to provide delicious pizza in a friendly and inviting environment. With over 10 years of success, we look forward to adding you to our long history of happy customers. Little Italy Pizza Little Italy Pizza is a renowned restaurant in NYC that offers a wide variety of gourmet and fusion pizzas. With a rich history and classic recipes from Sicily, our pizzas have been enjoyed by generations. What sets us apart is our commitment to using only the finest and freshest quality ingredients. For nearly 50 years, people from all over the world have fallen in love with our delicious pizzas. Joe's Pizza Joe's Pizza: The Best Slice of Pizza in New York As a travel blogger, I have had the pleasure of exploring various restaurants around the world. However, one establishment that truly stands out is Joe's Pizza. This iconic eatery has been named the "Best Slice of Pizza in New York" by New York Magazine, and it's not hard to see why. Joe's Pizza has gained a reputation for its mouthwatering pizzas that have captured the hearts of celebrities, tourists, and locals alike. With its prime location in the heart of New York City, it has become a beloved institution for pizza lovers. Whether you're a fan of classic cheese pizza or prefer adventurous toppings, Joe's Pizza has something for everyone. The quality of their ingredients and the skillful craftsmanship that goes into each pie is evident with every bite. If you find yourself in the Big Apple, a visit to Joe's Pizza is an absolute must. Experience the taste that has made it a legend in the city's culinary scene and join the ranks of those who have fallen in love with this New York institution. NY Pizza Suprema NY Pizza Suprema: Serving the Best NY Style Pizza for 56 YearsWelcome to NY Pizza Suprema, an award-winning pizza place located just across from Penn Station and MSG. For over five decades, we have been dedicated to serving only authentic NY style pizza, making us a favorite among locals and visitors alike. Our commitment to quality has earned us recognition from renowned publications such as The Rachel Ray show, Time Out New York, Good Day New York, The Wall Street Journal, and various other NY newspapers and periodicals. In fact, we consistently make it to the "Best Pizza in NYC" lists.Our reputation for excellence extends beyond the city limits. Sliceharvester, after sampling close to 400 pizzas in Manhattan, rated us as the number one pizza place. Additionally, we are honored to have an exhibit at The Ellis Island National Museum of Immigration, celebrating the "History of Pizza in America." Celebrity Chef Curtis Stone has also declared us his favorite pizza in America.At NY Pizza Suprema, pizza is not just another item on our menu it's our specialty. We take pride in using only the finest ingredients sourced directly from Italy. Our five different red sauces, 30-month aged parmigiano-reggiano, 16-month aged pecorino romano, and extra virgin olive oil all contribute to the authentic flavors that make our pizza truly exceptional.Join us at NY Pizza Suprema and experience the taste of true NY style pizza. Whether you're a local or a tourist, our renowned pizza will leave you craving for more. Don't miss out on the opportunity to savor the 8th best slice of pizza in the world, as rated by Big 7 Travel. Prince Street Pizza Prince Street Pizza: A Slice of PerfectionWelcome to Prince Street Pizza, where our family recipe brings a unique twist to the world of pizza. Our philosophy is simple: "if you can put it on pasta, then you can put it on pizza." With a wide range of options to choose from, we guarantee there's something for everyone. Whether you're a fan of the classic cheese, the Soho Square, the Spicy Spring, or even our vegan option, your taste buds are in for a treat. Our Sicilian recipes have been passed down through generations, ensuring an authentic and delicious experience. Handcrafted daily from scratch, our sauces perfectly complement our crisp and fluffy dough. We take pride in delivering consistency and the perfect bite in every pie we serve. So why wait? Come on in and have a slice at Prince Street Pizza! Pokeworks Pokeworks is a fast casual poke restaurant that offers a build-your-own style poke menu that lets you customize your meal with fresh and healthy ingredients. At Pokeworks, you can create your own poke bowl, poke burrito, or poke salad with our wide variety of proteins, sauces, and toppings to choose from. We also have a selection of Signature Works poke bowls that feature ahi tuna, salmon, shrimp, scallops, free-range chicken breast, and tofu. This is Poke Your Way. 99 Cent Fresh Pizza Discover the Best Quick Bites at 99 Cent Fresh Pizza As a travel blogger, I am always on the lookout for hidden gems in the culinary world. One such gem that I recently stumbled upon is 99 Cent Fresh Pizza. This restaurant offers a delightful selection of Italian American Pizza that is sure to satisfy your cravings. What sets them apart is their commitment to delivering fresh and hot pizzas right to your doorstep at incredibly low expenses. At 99 Cent Fresh Pizza, you can expect a variety of appetizing meals that are prepared and served in record time. Whether you're in a hurry or simply looking for a quick bite, this restaurant has got you covered. From classic cheese pizzas to mouthwatering toppings, their menu caters to all taste buds. The best part? You don't have to break the bank to enjoy a delicious meal here. If you're a pizza lover like me, you'll be thrilled to know that 99 Cent Fresh Pizza is a must-visit destination. Their dedication to quality, affordability, and speedy service makes them a standout choice for any food enthusiast. So, the next time you find yourself in need of a satisfying meal, remember to give 99 Cent Fresh Pizza a try. You won't be disappointed! East Village Pizza Since 1997, EAST VILLAGE PIZZA has been serving the best Italian pizza, rolls, calzone, and garlic knots in East Village. We pride ourselves on using the highest quality ingredients in New York City to create a delicious New York-style pizza that will satisfy your cravings. Famous Amadeus Pizza Welcome to Famous Amadeus Pizza, the go-to destination for delicious handcrafted pizza in NYC. Our skilled team has been tossing and firing up mouthwatering pizzas daily for over 20 years. When you step into our shop, you'll immediately notice the expert pizza maker who has been perfecting his dough-tossing skills for a long time. As a local family-owned and operated pizzeria, we take pride in using only the finest ingredients. Our pizzas are made with love, using a combination of locally sourced and Italian imported ingredients. So, whether you're craving a classic Margherita or a unique specialty pizza, we've got you covered. Come on in and grab a slice - we're confident that you'll taste the difference! Beatnic Vegan Restaurant - Rock Center Beatnic Vegan Restaurant - Rock Center We're vegan, but you don't have to be! 100% Delicious. 100% Vegan. To find our truth, we went back to our roots: NYC's Greenwich Village and its OG free-spirited, you-be-you culture. At Beatnic, we strive to unite people and taste buds around amazing vegan food that makes you want to sing, dance, and order seconds. We can't wait to see you in store trying, and enjoying, our delicious food. Ess-a-Bagel You asked. We listened. Welcome to Ess-a-Bagel's newest location. Come visit us at 108 West 32nd Street. Down the block from Penn Station and Madison Square Garden. We look forward to seeing you there. |
2024.05.16 06:19 Affectionate_Emu_168 looking for "wario" and wolfvale (??) from lichcraft (2016-2017)
hey! this is such a huge long shot im going for right now, but im here to find two friends i met on lichcraft (a mc server) back around 2016-2017. i used to go by the name alex and i was maybe 11 when i was super active ? i hardly remember my old usernames ;_; i was in a big group of friends who all hung out and roleplayed on this one medieval-themed creative plot. i miss everyone from that era so much, but sadly i mainly just remember wolfvale (from germany i think?) & my closest friend at the time, "wario" from britain (dont want to use his real name lol) im not sure if this would reach them, or if anyone would recognize any of this info, but id really appreciate it if anyone responded w/ any idea on who these two are! ( key info: I WAS ALEX, HE/THEY, FROM AMERICA!! I USED TO ROLEPLAY AS THE FIRE GUY WITH A HALF SKULL MASK (HIS NAME WAS DRAVEN) !!
submitted by Affectionate_Emu_168 to longlostgamers [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 05:37 Isabelle_K Theoretically, how many Americas could you have at the same time?
By which I mean how many different tags could America theoretically split into at once. Off the top of my head there’s:
The six main civil war factions
New England
Alaska
Hawaii
New York City
Texas
Puerto Rico
Black Belt Revolt
Arizona
Utah
Am I missing any? Even with custom paths it’d be difficult for all 15 of these tags to exist on map at once but theoretically possible. Are there any others that could be added to this?
submitted by Isabelle_K to kaiserredux [link] [comments]
The six main civil war factions
New England
Alaska
Hawaii
New York City
Texas
Puerto Rico
Black Belt Revolt
Arizona
Utah
Am I missing any? Even with custom paths it’d be difficult for all 15 of these tags to exist on map at once but theoretically possible. Are there any others that could be added to this?
2024.05.16 05:07 thankyoutrish “For A Fortnight There”: Denial and The Torturous Cycle of Suppression
 | Hi everyone! Today I wanted to share my personal interpretation of Fortnight. From my perspective, Taylor is engaging in a dialogue with herself in which she comments on the complexities of self-denial and suppression that we sometimes resort to in order to conform or appease others (Note: I admit I may have projected my own personal struggles onto the lyrics of the song, but still wanted to explore these concepts in her music). submitted by thankyoutrish to GaylorSwift [link] [comments] I was supposed to be sent away But they forgot to come and get me I was a functioning alcoholic ’Til nobody noticed my new aestheticFrom my perspective, she intended her closeted self to be “sent away” (suppressed) to the point of extinguishment. But this part of herself couldn’t be completely erased, and so it was instead ignored and left to linger. As a result, this self remains trapped in a limbo (locked inside a vault?), neither fully alive nor dead, but rather exists as a powerless observer of her own life. I always interpreted the line about alcoholism as her saying that alcoholism was what her new aesthetic was and that nobody noticed that she was using alcohol to numb her closeted feelings. After no one acknowledged what she was doing, she stopped “functioning” and began to unravel, letting herself go because it seemed like no one would notice if anything was wrong with her anyway. \"I was a functioning alcoholic\" as illustrated in the Anti-Hero music video. https://preview.redd.it/duk44miy7b0d1.jpg?width=960&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6a62bb040e6b044fd3adcdaf6c14f769c75dffde All of this to say I hope you're okay But you're the reason And no one here's to blame But what about your quiet treason?She of course desires happiness and there are external influences out of her control preventing this for her, but she must also acknowledge the possible role she, too, plays in contributing to her own unhappiness by continuing to ignore this side of herself. While she obviously can’t blame herself for the homophobia that unfortunately continues to endure in our modern society, she must also recognize her own contribution to her struggles through the continued neglect and numbing of her closeted self with unhealthy coping mechanisms (such as the alcoholism mentioned). She is committing “quiet treason” because she is not only denying her own needs in this sense, but could also be adopting harmful behaviors preventing her from finding self-acceptance such as compulsory heterosexuality (comphet) and internalized homophobia. The term “quiet treason” captures the betrayal of self through silent compliance with societal norms that deny her true identity and well-being. \"What about your quiet treason?\" In the music video for Fortnight, Post Malone (whom I- as well as many others on this sub it seems- interpret as another version of Taylor herself) is one of the doctors administering the electro-shock therapy, and also the one who pulls the plug on the procedure upon witnessing the pain it inflicts on her. Electric shocks were historically used on homosexuals as part of aversion therapy in an attempt to change an individual's sexual identity to align with heterosexual norms. The paradox of Post Taylor both engaging in and stopping the procedure could symbolize Taylor's internal struggle with self-acceptance. Taylor discussing internalized misogyny in the Miss America documentary. And for a fortnight there, we were forever Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors Your wife waters flowers, I wanna kill herDespite her efforts, she can't completely suppress this closeted part of herself and it resurfaces periodically, every once in a while for a fortnight. In these moments, she grapples with accepting this aspect of her identity, finding brief periods (“for a fortnight there”) where it seems like she might finally succeed and find freedom from the closet. But heteronormative societal norms and homophobia ultimately cause her to retreat from fully embracing her queer identity and coming out. She may also wrestle with feelings of self-doubt and the need for validation from others. Nevertheless, her closeted self remains a constant lurking presence, haunting her from beneath the surface of her shallow encounters (“ask about the weather”). I see the “good neighbors” as symbolizing the heterosexual relationship she maintains to keep the public satisfied and to avoid confronting her struggles with her queer identity. The neighbors (her and her public boyfriend) are considered “good” because they adhere to expectations and are approved by the fans, media, and the public. At the beginning of Miss Americana, Taylor says that her \"entire moral code, as a kid and now, is a need to be thought of as good.\" When she says, "Your wife waters flowers," I envision her addressing her own husband in this scenario, where the "wife" symbolizes the version of her that has conformed to traditional, domestic heteronormativity. While there's nothing inherently wrong with being a traditional wife, it contradicts her true self and what she desires as a queer woman (“No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me” from Lavender Haze). This conflict is further illustrated when her closeted self expresses a desire to "kill her," representing a desire to kill the “her” that’s in a heterosexual relationship participating in the facade of the perfect wife because the public desires it, leaving her closeted self feeling bitter and abandoned because she was not chosen instead. All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporaryMonday is the first day of a new week, when the week starts over. The fact that all of her mornings are Monday mornings could symbolize a perpetual return to the start of a constant cycle of internal conflict. This also reminds me of a quote from the 1999 film Office Space, in which one of the characters says to another “Sounds like somebody’s got the case of the Mondays.” The phrase was said to refer to the depression one experiences when having to return to work after the weekend (or maybe in this case, the fortnight). \"The case of the Mondays:\" Taylor depicted in an office setting, reinforcing a sense of monotony and tedium in her life. I find it interesting she describes the month of February as endless, despite it being the shortest month of the year. Considering the idea of repeated cycles mentioned throughout this analysis, this brings to my mind the 1993 film Groundhog Day in which the plot centers around a man who becomes stuck in a time loop on February 2nd (Groundhog Day) and must relive this same day over and over again. From the 1993 film \"Groundhog Day,\" in which a man is forced to relive the same day in February repeatedly. The Groundhog Day tradition itself originates from Pennsylvania, Taylor's home state, and revolves around the superstition that if a groundhog emerges from its burrow on this day and sees its shadow, it retreats back into its den which predicts an extended winter. But if it does not see its shadow, spring will arrive soon. This may be a reach, but you could think of this as Taylor trying to “come out” of her burrow (the closet) only to be startled by her shadow self (her anxieties and fears, the parts of herself she’s afraid of sharing with the public) which causes her to retreat back into hiding for what feels like another inevitable winter. Taylor's shadow self. And I love you, it's ruining my life I love you, it's ruining my life I touched you for only a fortnight I touched you, but I touched youShe may yearn to embrace who she is and continue pursuing her love for writing and performing music, but may have had to make difficult sacrifices in this realm in order to progress in her career. The pressure to uphold these sacrifices, despite the heavy burden they impose, could stem from a desire to avoid disappointing various stakeholders in her life like the public, her fans, and even her own family. This may have led her to prioritize her music career and fame over the freedom to openly express her sexuality. It's clear she cherishes her career and the doors that fame has opened for her, but the continuous suppression of her sexuality over time has taken a toll on her mental health. The song carries a sense of robotic resignation and defeat, reflecting her closeted self's enduring wait. It seems her closeted self has nearly given up hope, clinging to those rare "fortnights" when Taylor could truly feel whole and not just a hollow facade to please others. Concerned over appearing ungrateful for voicing her struggles with fame? And for a fortnight there, we were together Run into you sometimes, comment on my sweater Now you're at the mailbox, turned into good neighbors My husband is cheating, I wanna kill himThis time she alters the final line in this verse to tell us her husband is cheating and she wants to kill him. In conjunction with my other interpretations, I’m guessing she’s hinting that her husband is unfaithful due to her unhappiness in their relationship influenced by her closeted sexuality. In considering that this is a beard she’s with, the line could suggest a contracted arrangement that allows both partners to seek affairs outside of their artificial relationship. Her desire to “kill him” could symbolize the deep unfairness she feels in being in a loveless lavender marriage that she never wanted. Over time, her resentment towards him has grown, mirroring the enduring chill and discontent of “endless February.” Meet the \"good neighbors.\" Thought of callin' ya, but you won't pick up 'Nother fortnight lost in America Move to Florida, buy the car you want But it won't start up 'til you touch, touch, touch meThe line “Thought of callin’ ya” makes me think back to when Taylor answers the phone in Look What You Made Me Do and she says, “I’m sorry / But the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now / Why? Oh, ‘cause she’s dead.” My interpretation is that her closeted self is thinking of calling the old Taylor, the one who perhaps embraced her sexuality and true self more freely in her youth. This is the Taylor before she “learned civility” and “used to scream ferociously” any time she wanted (from Seven). But the old Taylor won’t pick up the phone, because she has been “killed” off in favor of Taylor the Brand. \"I'm sorry, but the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now...\" "Another fortnight lost in America" represents yet another missed opportunity to fully embrace her sexuality and take pride in it enough to come out. The ongoing disappointments from these lost fortnights, coupled with the anxiety over the potential judgment she could face as well as the risky impact it could have on her career, can make denial and suppression feel necessary just to get through another day in America. |
2024.05.16 04:56 Sweet-Count2557 10 Tips for a Relaxing Maldives Resort Stay for Reluctant Travelers
 | 10 Tips for a Relaxing Maldives Resort Stay for Reluctant Travelers As we explore the realm of travel, it's intriguing to note that despite the allure of the Maldives' pristine beaches and luxurious resorts, many individuals may find themselves hesitant to embark on such a journey.However, with our ten expert tips crafted specifically for reluctant travelers, we aim to provide a comprehensive guide that transforms apprehension into anticipation.Let's uncover the secrets to a truly relaxing Maldives resort stay that caters to even the most hesitant of wanderers.Key TakeawaysPrioritize private villas and overwater accommodations for a secluded stay.Engage in beach activities and spa treatments to embrace relaxation.Opt for all-inclusive packages for worry-free luxury and convenience.Explore beyond the resort for unique experiences and hidden gems.Choosing the Right ResortWhen searching for the perfect Maldives resort for a relaxing getaway, it's crucial to prioritize factors like private villas, overwater accommodations, and exclusive amenities. A resort like Velassaru Maldives fits the bill, offering luxurious private villas where you can unwind in seclusion. These private villas provide the perfect sanctuary for a peaceful retreat, allowing you to enjoy the stunning views of the crystal-clear waters right from your doorstep. Additionally, resorts like JOALI BEING cater to the wellness-focused traveler, with integrated wellness programs and rejuvenating spa experiences that will leave you feeling refreshed and revitalized.In terms of dining options, it's essential to choose a resort that offers diverse culinary experiences. Look for resorts that not only serve delicious and healthy dishes but also provide a wide range of options to cater to different tastes. Whether you're craving fresh seafood by the beach or a gourmet meal under the stars, a resort with diverse dining options like JOALI BEING will ensure that your taste buds are always satisfied.Moreover, when selecting a Maldives resort, safety should be a top priority. Ensure that the resort you choose emphasizes safety protocols such as social distancing and mask-wearing to provide you with a worry-free and relaxing experience. By considering these factors, you can make sure that your Maldives getaway is everything you dreamed of and more.Embracing Island TimeEmbracing the tranquil rhythm of island time in the Maldives allows for a seamless transition into a world where relaxation and serenity reign supreme. The Maldives, with its paradisiacal setting, invites visitors to unwind and let go of the stresses of everyday life. Here are a few ways to fully embrace the relaxed pace and tranquil atmosphere of the Maldives:Immersing Yourself in Leisurely Days: Take advantage of the unhurried pace by indulging in beach activities, such as snorkeling or simply lounging by the crystal-clear waters. These leisurely days are perfect for unwinding and enjoying the serene beauty of the Maldives.Savoring Spa Treatments: Treat yourself to a pampering session at one of the many luxurious spas in the Maldives. From relaxing massages to rejuvenating facials, these treatments will help you reach the pinnacle of relaxation amidst the island's tranquil surroundings.Enjoying Serene Moments in Nature: Whether it's watching a breathtaking sunset, strolling along the powdery white sand beaches, or listening to the gentle lull of the waves, savoring these serene moments in nature is an integral part of embracing island time in the Maldives.Opting for All-Inclusive PackagesOpting for all-inclusive packages in the Maldives ensures a hassle-free and indulgent experience, covering accommodation, meals, drinks, and activities for a truly relaxing getaway. These packages provide a sense of security and convenience, allowing guests to unwind and enjoy their stay without fretting about additional costs. Here is a breakdown of what you can typically expect from an all-inclusive package in the Maldives:InclusionsDetailsBenefitsAccommodationLuxurious overwater villas or beachfront bungalowsUninterrupted relaxation in a stunning settingMealsGourmet dining options with international cuisinesCulinary delights without worrying about the billDrinksUnlimited beverages, including alcoholic drinksEnjoy tropical cocktails by the beach without extra chargesActivitiesWater sports, snorkeling, sunset cruises, and moreExciting adventures to make the most of your stayThese packages offer a worry-free vacation where guests can focus on rejuvenation without the need to constantly make decisions or pay for extras. Indulge in unlimited food and beverages, explore the underwater wonders, or simply lounge by the pristine beaches – all included in your package. With everything taken care of, all you need to do is relax and soak in the beauty of the Maldives.Exploring Beyond the ResortVenture beyond the confines of your resort to discover the authentic charm and diverse experiences awaiting in the Maldives. Exploring beyond the resort opens up a world of opportunities to immerse yourself in the beauty and culture of this stunning destination.Local Islands: Explore local islands like Maafushi and Guraidhoo to get a taste of Maldivian culture and experience daily island life firsthand.Diving Experience: Visit the Maldives Victory wreck site for a unique diving experience that not only allows you to explore underwater wonders but also offers a glimpse into the country's rich history.Capital City: Take a day trip to Male, the capital city, to wander through markets, visit landmarks like the Grand Friday Mosque, and indulge in local cuisine for a true Maldivian experience.Whether you're into water sports, guided excursions, or simply seeking to uncover hidden gems, stepping beyond the resort boundaries will introduce you to a whole new side of the Maldives. Don't miss out on the chance to explore the vibrant marine life through activities like snorkeling, diving, and fishing, or to journey to uninhabited islands for a secluded beach experience and witness untouched natural beauty.Mindful Relaxation PracticesHow can we incorporate mindfulness practices to enhance relaxation during our stay at a Maldives resort?One way to promote relaxation is by engaging in deep breathing exercises. Find a quiet spot on the beach, close your eyes, and take slow, deep breaths to center yourself and let go of any tension.Another effective practice is meditation. Set aside some time each day to meditate, focusing on the present moment and letting go of any stressful thoughts.Additionally, participating in gentle yoga sessions on the beach can help you unwind and destress. The combination of the soothing ocean waves and the calming yoga poses can create a serene environment for relaxation.To further enhance your relaxation, indulge in the spa treatments offered at the resort. Treat yourself to massages, facials, or body scrubs to rejuvenate your mind and body. The therapeutic touch and calming ambiance of the spa can elevate your relaxation experience.Moreover, take leisurely walks along the pristine beaches or simply relax in a hammock while listening to the sound of the waves. Disconnecting from technology and immersing yourself in the natural beauty of the Maldives can help you truly unwind and recharge.Packing Light and SmartLet's streamline our relaxation experience by packing light and smart for our Maldives resort stay. When it comes to packing light, focusing on the essentials is key. Here are a few tips to ensure you're prepared without overpacking:Swimsuits: Given that you'll likely spend most of your time in the water or on the beach, packing a few swimsuits is a must. Opt for versatile pieces that you can mix and match for different looks.Sunscreen: Protecting your skin from the sun is crucial, especially in a tropical destination like the Maldives. Consider bringing reef-safe sunscreen to not only safeguard your skin but also the marine environment.Curly Hair Care: Embrace your natural curls during your stay and keep your hair routine simple. Pack the necessary products to manage and enhance your curls in the humid weather.Respecting Local CustomsRespecting local customs in the Maldives entails dressing modestly and being mindful of cultural norms to ensure a harmonious experience during your stay. It's important to cover your shoulders, chest, and knees when venturing outside resort islands to show respect for local customs. Avoiding public displays of affection is also crucial to adhere to cultural norms on local islands. Additionally, alcohol consumption is restricted to resort islands only, in compliance with Maldivian regulations.To have a pleasant and respectful stay, it's essential to understand and follow the local rules. By being aware of and respecting cultural sensitivities, you not only show respect but also demonstrate appreciation for the Maldivian way of life. Embracing these customs not only enhances your experience but also fosters positive interactions with locals and fellow travelers.Navigating Transportation HasslesNavigating transportation in the Maldives can be an exciting part of your journey, with seaplanes and boats commonly used to travel from Male to resort islands. Understanding the logistics of island transfers can help make your travel experience smoother and more enjoyable.Seaplanes and Boats: Seaplanes are a popular and picturesque mode of transportation from Male to resort islands. Boats are also commonly used for transfers, especially to islands closer to the capital.Transportation Costs: Seaplane costs typically range from $200 to $600 round trip, depending on the distance to the resort island. It's essential to factor in these costs when planning your trip budget.Resort Coordination: Coordinating with your resort for island transfers can simplify the transportation process. Many resorts offer package deals that include transportation from Male to the island, so be sure to inquire about these options when booking your stay.Navigating transportation in the Maldives may seem daunting at first, but with a bit of preparation and understanding of the available options, you can make the journey from Male to your resort island a seamless and enjoyable part of your overall travel experience.Enjoying Water ActivitiesExploring the stunning aquatic wonders of the Maldives adds a thrilling dimension to our resort stay. The crystal-clear waters beckon us to immerse ourselves in vibrant marine life through activities like snorkeling and diving. For a more leisurely experience, we can opt for kayaking and paddleboarding, allowing us to unwind while soaking in the picturesque views surrounding us. These serene moments on the water offer a peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.If seeking a bit of adventure, windsurfing and parasailing provide an exhilarating twist during our time at the resort. Feeling the wind in our hair and the rush of excitement as we glide over the turquoise waters is sure to create lasting memories. On the other hand, a leisurely swim in the calm lagoons or simply lounging on the pristine white-sand beaches offer moments of pure relaxation and tranquility.As the day transitions into evening, indulging in sunset cruises or joining fishing excursions can provide a tranquil and memorable experience. Watching the sun dip below the horizon while gently cruising along the Maldivian waters is a perfect way to unwind and appreciate the natural beauty that surrounds us. Whether seeking relaxation or adventure, the water activities in the Maldives cater to all preferences, ensuring a truly unforgettable stay.Unwinding With Spa TreatmentsAfter a day of thrilling water activities, unwinding with spa treatments in the Maldives is the perfect way to rejuvenate and relax. Spa treatments in this luxurious destination offer a range of relaxing experiences, from massages to facials, all set in serene and tranquil surroundings. Specialized spa therapists are on hand to provide customized treatments tailored to individual needs and preferences, ensuring the ultimate relaxation experience. Many resorts in the Maldives boast world-class spas equipped with luxurious amenities such as hydrotherapy pools, sauna rooms, and private treatment rooms, adding an extra touch of indulgence to your wellness journey.Customized Treatments: Specialized spa therapists offer personalized treatments tailored to your specific needs and preferences, ensuring a truly relaxing experience.Luxurious Amenities: Enjoy the lavish facilities of Maldivian spas, including hydrotherapy pools, sauna rooms, and private treatment rooms, adding to the overall sense of relaxation and rejuvenation.Holistic Wellness: Indulge in signature spa rituals inspired by local traditions and ingredients, promoting holistic wellness and leaving you feeling refreshed and invigorated.Immerse yourself in the soothing sounds of the ocean and gentle sea breeze that enhance the spa experience, creating a peaceful oasis for unwinding and de-stressing in the Maldives.Frequently Asked QuestionsWhat Are the Do's and Don'ts in the Maldives?When visiting the Maldives, it's important to be mindful of beach etiquette, local customs, dress codes, and language barriers. Following these guidelines will help you navigate the cultural norms with ease.Remember to cover up appropriately, respect the designated beach areas, and avoid public displays of affection. By showing respect for the local customs and sensitivities, you can ensure a smooth and enjoyable experience during your stay in the Maldives.Should You Stay at an All Inclusive in the Maldives?Why miss out on the convenience of an all-inclusive stay in the Maldives? With budget options, local cuisine, water activities, private villas, and sunset views all included, it's a stress-free way to unwind.We find that staying at an all-inclusive resort lets us relax and fully enjoy the beauty of the Maldives without worrying about extra costs.What Do I Need to Know Before Going to Maldives?Before going to the Maldives, we recommend packing essentials like sunscreen, light clothing, and swimwear. Respect cultural etiquette by dressing modestly on local islands.Try local cuisine like mas huni and hedhikaa for a true taste of Maldivian flavors.Transportation options include speedboats and seaplanes to hop between islands easily.Consider weather conditions for the best time to visit and enjoy your stay in this tropical paradise.Which Part of Maldives Is the Best to Stay?When choosing where to stay in the Maldives, the best part for a relaxing getaway is the South Male Atoll. This area offers beachfront villas, overwater bungalows, and private islands, perfect for secluded retreats.You can also enjoy local experiences like snorkeling in beautiful coral reefs. South Male Atoll is easily accessible from Male International Airport, making it a convenient choice for a tranquil and luxurious vacation.ConclusionAs we set sail from the tranquil shores of the Maldives, let's remember that just as the ocean ebbs and flows, so too does our need for relaxation and rejuvenation. By following these ten tips, we've unlocked the treasure trove of serenity that this paradise has to offer.May we carry the calmness of these crystal clear waters with us, wherever our journey may take us.Bon voyage! submitted by Sweet-Count2557 to worldkidstravel [link] [comments] |
2024.05.16 04:26 Sweet-Count2557 15 Secret Orlando Spots Kids Will Love
 | 15 Secret Orlando Spots Kids Will Love Imagine a tapestry of hidden wonders, woven into the vibrant fabric of Orlando. Amidst the towering theme park attractions and bustling tourist hotspots, lie 15 secret spots that hold the key to unforgettable adventures for kids.These hidden gems, like buried treasure waiting to be discovered, offer a world beyond the ordinary. From exploring the wonders of nature to embarking on whimsical fairy trails, each spot holds its own enchanting story.As we unravel the secrets of Orlando, join us on a journey that will ignite your child's imagination and leave them yearning for more.Key TakeawaysOrlando offers a variety of secret spots that are perfect for families with kids.These hidden gems provide unique experiences and off-the-beaten-path attractions.Families can create lasting memories by exploring these secret spots in Orlando.There are activities available for all ages, ensuring that everyone in the family can have fun.Lake Apopka Wildlife DriveLet's buckle up and embark on a wild adventure at Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive! Are you ready to discover a secret spot in Orlando that's perfect for nature lovers? Well, look no further because Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive is the place to be! This hidden gem offers an incredible opportunity to explore the natural beauty of Florida while enjoying some freedom in the great outdoors.One of the highlights of Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive is the wildlife photography opportunities it provides. As you drive through the park, keep your camera ready because you never know what you might encounter. From majestic birds soaring through the sky to adorable animals roaming around, there are plenty of chances to capture stunning photographs. So, bring your camera and let your creativity soar!Bird watching and nature exploration are also popular activities at Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive. With over 360 species of birds in the area, it's a bird lover's paradise. Grab a pair of binoculars and get ready to spot some feathered friends. From colorful songbirds to graceful wading birds, there's always something exciting to see. Don't forget to bring a field guide to help you identify the different species you come across.Showcase of CitrusAfter our wild adventure at Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive, we're ready to explore another hidden gem in Orlando: the Showcase of Citrus! At this family-friendly destination, you can enjoy a variety of citrus activities and explore enchanted gardens.Here are some of the highlights:Take a citrus tour: Hop aboard a monster truck and embark on a guided tour through the groves of citrus trees. Learn about different types of citrus fruits and even pick your own oranges straight from the trees! It's a hands-on experience that will leave you with a newfound appreciation for these delicious fruits.Feed the animals: The Showcase of Citrus isn't just about citrus trees; it's also home to a wide range of animals. From friendly goats and llamas to exotic birds and emus, you can get up close and personal with these fascinating creatures. Don't forget to bring some animal feed along – they'll love you for it!Explore the gardens: Wander through the enchanted gardens and discover a hidden oasis filled with vibrant flowers and lush greenery. Let your imagination run wild as you explore secret pathways, uncover hidden nooks, and marvel at the natural beauty around you. It's the perfect place to relax and soak in the peaceful atmosphere.Enjoy a picnic: After all the exploring, find a cozy spot in the shade and enjoy a picnic with your family. Bring along your favorite snacks and beverages, spread out a blanket, and savor the fresh air and beautiful surroundings. It's a great way to recharge and make lasting memories.The Showcase of Citrus is a truly magical place where you can have fun, learn something new, and connect with nature. So, grab your family and embark on a citrus-filled adventure in Orlando!Winter Park Scenic Boat TourThe Winter Park Scenic Boat Tour is a must-do activity for families visiting Orlando. It's a fantastic way to explore the beautiful lakes and canals of Winter Park and learn about the local wildlife and history. Hop aboard one of the charming pontoon boats and prepare for an adventure!Boat tour highlights include cruising through the tranquil lakes, gliding under picturesque bridges, and marveling at the stunning mansions that line the shores. As you glide along, keep your eyes peeled for various wildlife like turtles, birds, and even alligators. Your knowledgeable tour guide will provide interesting facts and stories about the area, making the experience both educational and fun.The best time to visit the Winter Park Scenic Boat Tour is during the cooler months when the weather is pleasant and wildlife is more active. Spring and fall are particularly great seasons to enjoy the tour, as the temperatures are mild and the scenery is vibrant.Don't forget to bring your camera to capture the breathtaking views and adorable wildlife you'll encounter along the way. And if you're lucky, you might even spot a playful otter or a graceful swan!Cassadaga Fairy TrailExploring the Cassadaga Fairy Trail is like stepping into a magical world filled with enchanting creatures and whimsical surprises. As we wandered along the trail, we discovered so many hidden wonders that delighted our imaginations.Here are a few things we loved about the Cassadaga Fairy Trail:Fairy Houses: Throughout the trail, we encountered tiny houses built for fairies. These adorable little homes were made from natural materials like twigs, leaves, and moss. Each one was unique and seemed to have its own special charm.Fairy Doors: As we continued our adventure, we noticed tiny doors scattered along the trail. These doors were so small that only fairies could fit through them. We couldn't help but wonder what magical worlds lay behind those doors.Fairy Gardens: The Cassadaga Fairy Trail is also home to beautiful fairy gardens. These miniature landscapes were filled with colorful flowers, tiny bridges, and even miniature ponds. It was like stepping into a world where fairies tended to their own little gardens.Nature's Magic: The trail itself is nestled in a lush forest, adding to the enchantment. The sunlight filtering through the trees created a dreamy atmosphere, and we felt like we were truly in a fairy tale.If you're looking for even more adventure, make sure to visit the nearby Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive. This scenic drive takes you through a stunning landscape where you can spot various birds, alligators, and other wildlife. It's a great opportunity to learn about nature and see animals in their natural habitat.Kraft Azalea GardenAs we entered Kraft Azalea Garden, a magical oasis awaited us, filled with vibrant colors and breathtaking scenery. The Kraft Azalea Garden is located in Winter Park, Florida, and it's a hidden gem that both kids and adults will love. This enchanting garden is the perfect place to escape from the hustle and bustle of the city and immerse yourself in nature's beauty.One of the best ways to explore Kraft Azalea Garden is by taking a Winter Park Scenic Boat Tour. These tours allow you to see the garden from a different perspective as you cruise along the tranquil waters of Lake Maitland. You'll be able to admire the azalea bushes in full bloom, as well as other native plants and wildlife that call this garden home.The highlight of the Kraft Azalea Garden is the towering cypress trees that line the shores of the lake. These majestic trees create a sense of wonder and provide shade on hot sunny days. You can take a leisurely stroll along the pathways, or find a cozy spot to have a picnic with your family. Don't forget to bring a blanket and your favorite snacks!If you're feeling adventurous, you can also rent a kayak or paddleboard and explore the lake at your own pace. This is a great way to get up close and personal with nature while enjoying some fun water activities. Just make sure to follow all safety guidelines and wear a life jacket.Whether you're a nature enthusiast or just looking for a peaceful place to relax, Kraft Azalea Garden is a must-visit spot in Orlando. So grab your family and embark on a magical adventure in this hidden oasis of beauty and tranquility.Wekiva IslandAfter our enchanting visit to Kraft Azalea Garden, we were eager to continue our exploration of secret spots in Orlando, and we couldn't wait to discover the wonders of Wekiva Island.Located in Longwood, Wekiva Island is a hidden gem that offers a wide range of outdoor activities for kids to enjoy.Here are four reasons why Wekiva Island is a must-visit destination:Outdoor activities at Wekiva Island: Whether your child loves swimming, canoeing, or paddleboarding, they'll find plenty of opportunities to have fun in the sun at Wekiva Island. The crystal clear waters of the Wekiva River are perfect for cooling off on a hot day, and the sandy beach is ideal for building sandcastles and playing games.Nature and wildlife at Wekiva Island: One of the highlights of Wekiva Island is its abundant wildlife. Kids can spot various species of birds, turtles, and even alligators as they explore the island. They can also learn about the importance of conservation and protecting the natural environment.Picnic spots and playgrounds: Wekiva Island provides several picnic areas where families can enjoy a delicious outdoor meal surrounded by nature. There are also playgrounds where kids can climb, slide, and swing to their heart's content.Outdoor movies and live music: In the evenings, Wekiva Island transforms into a magical place where families can watch movies under the stars or listen to live music performances. It's the perfect way to end a day of adventure and create lasting memories.At Wekiva Island, kids can embrace the freedom of being outdoors, connect with nature, and make unforgettable experiences. So pack your sunscreen, grab your swimsuits, and get ready for an unforgettable day at Wekiva Island!Nunan Butterfly GardenNunan Butterfly Garden is a magical place filled with colorful butterflies fluttering through lush gardens and enchanting pathways. It's a place where you can learn about the amazing world of butterflies while enjoying the beauty of nature. At Nunan Butterfly Garden, they're dedicated to conservation efforts and have educational programs that teach kids about the importance of protecting these delicate creatures.One of the highlights of Nunan Butterfly Garden is the native butterfly species that you can see up close. From the striking Monarch butterflies to the vibrant Swallowtails, there are so many different types of butterflies to discover. You can watch them as they land on flowers, sip nectar, and gracefully take flight. It's an experience that will leave you in awe of these incredible creatures.If you're interested in creating your own butterfly garden at home, Nunan Butterfly Garden also offers butterfly gardening tips. They can teach you which plants to choose to attract butterflies and provide them with a habitat. You'll learn how to create a welcoming environment for these beautiful insects and help support their populations.Inflatable Water ParksOne of the most exciting and fun-filled attractions for kids in Orlando are the inflatable water parks. These outdoor water play areas are a blast for children of all ages.Here are four reasons why inflatable water parks are a must-visit when you're in Orlando:Endless Water Fun: Inflatable water parks offer a wide variety of water activities that will keep kids entertained for hours. From giant water slides to obstacle courses and splash pads, there's never a dull moment at these parks. Kids can slide down slippery slides, jump on trampolines, and dive into pools of refreshing water.Safe and Supervised: Inflatable water parks prioritize safety and provide a supervised environment for kids to play. Trained lifeguards are always on duty, ensuring that children can enjoy their time in the water without any worries. Parents can relax knowing that their little ones are in good hands.Perfect for Hot Days: Orlando can get pretty hot, especially during the summer months. Inflatable water parks provide the perfect escape from the heat. Kids can cool off and have a splashing good time while enjoying the refreshing water. It's the ultimate way to beat the Florida heat!Active Outdoor Fun: Inflatable water parks offer a unique opportunity for kids to engage in active outdoor play. Instead of being cooped up indoors, children can run, jump, and slide in the great outdoors. It's a fantastic way to promote physical activity and keep kids active and healthy.Citrus TowerIf you're looking for a unique and exciting adventure in Orlando, make sure to visit the Citrus Tower. This iconic landmark offers breathtaking views of the surrounding area and is a must-see attraction for both kids and adults alike. The Citrus Tower stands tall at 226 feet and provides a panoramic view of the beautiful citrus groves, lakes, and rolling hills of Central Florida. It's a sight that you won't want to miss!To help you plan your visit to the Citrus Tower, here is a table with some important information:Citrus TowerLocationClermont, FLHeight226 feetBest Time to Visit Citrus TowerClear, sunny daysAdmission$10 for adults, $6 for childrenActivitiesObservation deck, gift shopThe best time to visit the Citrus Tower is on clear, sunny days when you can fully appreciate the breathtaking views from the observation deck. You'll be able to see for miles and take in the natural beauty of the surrounding landscape. Don't forget to bring your camera to capture the memories!In addition to the observation deck, the Citrus Tower also has a gift shop where you can find unique souvenirs to remember your visit. From citrus-themed merchandise to locally made crafts, there's something for everyone to enjoy.The Wizard of Oz MuseumThe Wizard of Oz Museum in Cape Canaveral is a magical and enchanting destination that will transport you and your kids into the whimsical world of Dorothy, Toto, and their friends. This hidden gem is filled with unique experiences that will surely delight both young and old. Here are four reasons why you should visit the Wizard of Oz Museum:Immerse Yourself in the Story: As you step inside the museum, you'll be greeted by life-sized statues of your favorite characters from the iconic movie. From the yellow brick road to the Emerald City, every corner of the museum is designed to make you feel like you've entered the Land of Oz.Explore Memorabilia: The museum houses an impressive collection of memorabilia, including costumes, props, and even Judy Garland's original ruby slippers. Kids will love seeing these iconic items up close and personal, and adults will appreciate the opportunity to relive the magic of the movie.Interactive Exhibits: The museum offers interactive exhibits that allow visitors to engage with the story of The Wizard of Oz. From a tornado simulator to a chance to try on different character costumes, there's something for everyone to enjoy.Educational Opportunities: The Wizard of Oz Museum also provides educational programs for schools and groups. Kids can learn about the history of the movie, the making of the film, and the impact it has had on popular culture.Dinosaur WorldGet ready to travel back in time and walk among the dinosaurs at Dinosaur World in Plant City, a prehistoric paradise that will ignite your kids' imagination and fascination with these magnificent creatures. Dinosaur World is an outdoor adventure park where you can experience the thrill of being surrounded by life-sized dinosaurs. As you explore the park, you'll encounter over 200 life-sized replicas of dinosaurs, from the towering T-Rex to the gentle Brachiosaurus.At Dinosaur World, there are plenty of activities to keep your little adventurers entertained. Check out the interactive fossil dig site, where kids can dig for their own fossils and learn about ancient fossils. Take a walk on the Dino Trail and discover interesting facts about different dinosaur species. Don't forget to bring your camera to capture the awe-inspiring moments!Here is a table to give you a better idea of what Dinosaur World has to offer:Outdoor Adventure ActivitiesAge RangeDescriptionFossil Dig Site3 and upExcavate fossils like a real paleontologist!Dino Trail5 and upLearn about different dinosaur species.Dino Playground2 and upClimb, slide, and play on dinosaur-themed equipment.Fossil Museum6 and upExplore a collection of real dinosaur fossils.Jurassic River Ride8 and upTake a thrilling rafting adventure through the Jurassic period.Dinosaur World is not only educational but also a whole lot of fun. So grab your hat, put on your explorer boots, and get ready for an unforgettable adventure at Dinosaur World!Bok Tower GardensBok Tower Gardens is a magical place where nature and music come together to create a truly enchanting experience for visitors of all ages. As you step into the gardens, you'll be surrounded by breathtaking botanical wonders that will leave you in awe. But Bok Tower Gardens is more than just a beautiful place to visit. It's also a hub of conservation efforts, working tirelessly to protect and preserve the natural world.Here are four reasons why Bok Tower Gardens is a must-visit spot in Orlando:Conservation efforts: Bok Tower Gardens is committed to protecting the environment and promoting sustainability. They've implemented various initiatives like water conservation, recycling, and wildlife habitat restoration. By visiting the gardens, you're supporting their mission and contributing to the preservation of our planet.Botanical wonders: The gardens are home to an incredible variety of plants and flowers from all around the world. From vibrant orchids to towering palm trees, you'll be amazed by the diversity of botanical wonders that thrive in this serene setting. Take a leisurely stroll through the gardens and discover the beauty of nature up close.Musical melodies: As you explore the gardens, you'll be serenaded by the melodious tones of the Singing Tower. This iconic landmark houses one of the world's finest carillons, a musical instrument comprised of bells played by a keyboard. Don't miss the opportunity to attend a live carillon concert and let the music transport you to another world.Family-friendly activities: Bok Tower Gardens offers a range of activities that are perfect for families. Kids can participate in nature-themed scavenger hunts, interactive workshops, and educational programs. They can also unleash their creativity at the Children's Garden, where they can play, explore, and learn about the wonders of nature.Bok Tower Gardens is a hidden gem that combines conservation efforts, botanical wonders, and musical melodies to create an unforgettable experience for everyone. So, pack your sense of adventure and get ready to embark on a journey into the heart of nature at Bok Tower Gardens.Old Sugar Mill Pancake HouseLocated in De Leon Springs, the Old Sugar Mill Pancake House is a delightful breakfast spot that will satisfy your cravings for delicious pancakes in a unique and historic setting. When you step inside this hidden treasure, you'll feel like you've traveled back in time. The restaurant is housed in a building that was once a sugar mill, with its rustic charm and cozy atmosphere.Now, let's talk about the star of the show: the pancakes! The Old Sugar Mill Pancake House serves up some of the most mouthwatering pancakes you'll ever taste. From classic buttermilk pancakes to creative flavors like chocolate chip and blueberry, there's something for everyone. And don't forget to try their famous apple pancakes, made with fresh apples and sprinkled with cinnamon. They're simply divine!But it's not just the pancakes that make this place special. The Old Sugar Mill Pancake House also offers toppings galore, from whipped cream and syrup to fresh fruit and nuts. You can truly customize your pancake masterpiece and make it your own.And let's not forget about the setting. The Old Sugar Mill Pancake House is surrounded by beautiful gardens and a bubbling spring, making it the perfect spot for a leisurely breakfast with your family. After you've enjoyed your pancakes, take a stroll around the grounds and discover the beauty of De Leon Springs.The Disney Collection at Orlando Public LibraryAfter indulging in a delightful breakfast at the Old Sugar Mill Pancake House, our next hidden gem in Orlando takes us to the magical world of Disney at the Orlando Public Library. This library isn't your ordinary library - it houses a special collection dedicated to all things Disney!Here are four reasons why visiting The Disney Collection at Orlando Public Library is a must for kids:Education and Entertainment: Libraries are known for their vast collection of books, and The Disney Collection is no exception. Kids can dive into the world of Disney through books, magazines, and DVDs, expanding their knowledge and imagination. They can also enjoy interactive exhibits and storytimes that bring their favorite Disney characters to life.Disney's Impact on Popular Culture: Disney has had a huge impact on popular culture, and this collection allows kids to explore the history and influence of Disney in a fun and engaging way. They can learn about the creation of beloved characters like Mickey Mouse, the making of iconic Disney movies, and the evolution of Disney theme parks.Creative Inspiration: The Disney Collection at Orlando Public Library is a treasure trove of inspiration for young artists and writers. Kids can browse through concept art, storyboards, and behind-the-scenes materials to see how Disney movies are made. This can spark their creativity and encourage them to create their own stories and artwork.Community and Connection: Libraries aren't just about books, they're also about building a sense of community. The Disney Collection at Orlando Public Library is a place where Disney fans of all ages can come together, share their love for Disney, and connect with like-minded individuals. It's a place where friendships can be formed and memories can be made.Alaska Farms Goat YogaIf you're looking for a unique and fun activity in Orlando, look no further than Alaska Farms Goat Yoga. Imagine doing yoga poses while adorable goats roam around you. It's a fantastic way to spend time with your family and enjoy the benefits of yoga. Goat yoga is becoming increasingly popular because it combines the relaxation of yoga with the joy of interacting with animals. Here are some reasons why you should give goat yoga a try:Goat Yoga BenefitsGoat Yoga LocationsFun FactsRelieves StressAlaska FarmsGoats areImproves FlexibilityOrlandonatural climbersBoosts Moodand love to exploreEnhances Concentrationtheir surroundingsConnects with Natureand interact with peopleAlaska Farms in Orlando is one of the best places to experience goat yoga. They offer classes for all ages and skill levels, so everyone can join in on the fun. The farm is a beautiful and peaceful setting, perfect for a relaxing yoga session. As you practice your poses, the goats will wander around, curiously observing and sometimes even joining in on the action. It's guaranteed to make you smile and laugh throughout the entire session.Not only is goat yoga a great way to exercise and connect with animals, but it also has many health benefits. It can help relieve stress, improve flexibility, boost your mood, enhance concentration, and create a deeper connection with nature. Plus, goats are naturally curious and fun-loving creatures, making them the perfect companions for a yoga session.Frequently Asked QuestionsHow Can I Access Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive?To access Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive, you can easily find parking at the entrance.Once you're there, get ready for an exciting adventure! This hidden gem in Orlando is a paradise for nature lovers.You'll have the chance to see a variety of wildlife, including birds, alligators, and more. Take your time driving along the scenic route and keep your eyes peeled for amazing sightings.Don't forget to bring your camera to capture the magic of Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive!What Can I Expect to See at the Showcase of Citrus?At the Showcase of Citrus, you can expect to see a vibrant citrus grove with rows and rows of juicy oranges and grapefruits. The smell of the citrus fills the air as you explore the farm.Kids can enjoy activities like picking their own fruit, taking a ride on a monster truck, or even feeding the friendly animals on the farm. It's a fun and interactive experience that the whole family will enjoy.Is the Winter Park Scenic Boat Tour Suitable for Young Children?The Winter Park boat tour is a great option for young children to enjoy in Orlando. It offers a scenic and relaxing experience on the water, where kids can learn about the local wildlife and history of the area.However, if you're looking for alternatives, there are plenty of other kid-friendly spots in Orlando, such as the Lake Eola Swan Boats or the Stanley Pond Adventure Farm. These places offer fun and interactive activities that cater to all ages.Are There Any Age Restrictions for the Cassadaga Fairy Trail?Are there any age restrictions for the Cassadaga Fairy Trail?Well, let me tell you, it's a magical place that kids of all ages will adore! There are no specific age restrictions, so everyone can enjoy the enchanting walk through the fairy-filled woods.And speaking of kid-friendly adventures, the Winter Park Scenic Boat Tour is perfect for young children. They'll love cruising along the beautiful canals and spotting wildlife.What Is the Best Time to Visit Kraft Azalea Garden?The best time to visit Kraft Azalea Garden for the popular photo spots is during the spring when the azaleas are in full bloom.The garden is a beautiful and serene place to capture stunning photos with your family. With its picturesque pathways, vibrant flowers, and scenic lake views, it's no wonder why Kraft Azalea Garden is a favorite spot for photographers and nature lovers alike.Don't forget to bring your camera and capture lasting memories in this hidden gem of Orlando.ConclusionIn conclusion, Orlando is a treasure trove of hidden gems for kids to explore. From the majestic wildlife at Lake Apopka to the enchanting Fairy Trail in Cassadaga, there are endless adventures waiting to be discovered.So, gather your family, embrace the excitement, and embark on a journey that will leave you with unforgettable memories. Orlando's secret spots are ready to be explored, so let's go on an extraordinary expedition of fun and fascination! submitted by Sweet-Count2557 to worldkidstravel [link] [comments] |
2024.05.16 04:22 _-synapse-_ North America Server it's Dead!
I don't like events and modes. Maps with event and maps with non events, metro, payload, aftermath, wow, etc. They're diluting the player base and we can't match classic maps anymore like before. Can't match sanhok, vikendi karakin. North America server it's dead. You can only play Erangel classic. Only way to play other classic maps is to migrate and leave our server and go to Europe or Asia. Who is missing playing other Classic maps??
submitted by _-synapse-_ to PUBGMobile [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 04:19 fganniversaries Fighting Game Anniversaries: Week 20 (May 13 - May 19)
Hey, yall. This is fganniversaries and apologies for missing last week; I genuinely thought that I posted for the week but turns out that I didn't upon looking. As per usual, I will be recapping anniversaries relating to fighting game announcements/releases this week. Like always, if I missed one, do please let me know in the comments. Here would be the following anniversaries:
May 13
submitted by fganniversaries to Fighters [link] [comments]
May 13
- 2023: SF6 20 Days Left & 19 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town Press Release
- 2022: Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl - Official Jenny, Hugh Neutron & Rocko Reveal Trailer/Jenny DLC Release + Moveset & Gameplay Showcase
- 2021: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Hinokami Chronicles Kyojuro Rengoku Reveal
- 2021: KOFXV Leona Heidern Tomohiro Nakata Sketch
- 2020: Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermath - Official Gameplay Trailer
- 2020: Samurai Shodown (2019) - Iroha DLC Release
- 2020: TFH Post-Launch Development Update #1 + Story Mode Chapter 1 Dev Commentary
- 2016: UNIB 5-13-16 Information Division Corner
- 2014: BBCP Version 1.1 Patch Notes
- 2014: JJBA:ASB Lisa Lisa & Ikuro Hashizawa DLC Release
- 2014: Skullgirls Encore 1.02: Are You Ready For? Edition Patch Notes
- 2014: SSB3DS/Wii U 5/13/14 Director’s Room Post - Charizard’s Flare Blitz Special Move Reveal
- 2013: Divekick - New Character Reveal: Markman + #eSports Hour #5
- 2010: Battle Fantasia Xbox Live Distribution
- 2010: BlazBlue PC Release Postpone Announcement
- 2005: SvC Chaos releasing on Xbox at AU.
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula Character Breakdown Trailer
- 2023: SF6 18 Days Left Countdown Illustration/Dan Tails
- 2020: GGST 1st Delay Announcement
- 2020: KOFx WWE + Cinematic Trailer/Razer Giveaway
- 2019: Samurai Shodown (2019) - Return of a Legend Trailer/Character Trailer #6 - Genjuro & Character Trailer #7 - Haohmaru
- 2019: SCVI Update Ver. 1.40 Patch Notes
- 2018: ARCommunity Sol Badguy of Guilty Gear - Digital Painting by Nainsoo
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Kawase Gameplay Trailer
- 2018: Guilty Gear NS, PS4, and PC Digital Port Announcement
- 2015: MKX Patch Notes 5/14/15 + Reptile Skin
- 2014: BBCP Version 1.1 Release
- 2014: SSB4 5/14/14 Director’s Room Post - Brittany Trophy Reveal
- 2013: Injustice "The Killing Joke" Skin Pack Announcement
- 2013: Skullgirls Color DLC Today, New Characters Coming
- 2009: Bleach: Heat the Soul 6 originally releasing on PSP at JP.
- 1998: Guilty Gear: The Missing Link originally releasing on PS1 at JP.
- 2023: Street Fighter 6 - Open Beta Video 1: Characters & Battle System/17 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town Team Story
- 2021: PS5 releasing at CHN.
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.52.2 - 0.52.3 Change Log
- 2020: KOFAS x WWE Blogpost
- 2019: GBVS Trailers: Gran, Katalina, Charlotta, Lancelot, Ferry
- 2019: GGXXACR NS Promotional Video
- 2019: Guilty Gear releaisng on PC via Steam WW.
- 2019: MK11 Combo Breaker Tournament Stage Variant Reveal + Gameplay Footage
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Noko GameplayTrailer/Blade Strangers Joined by Indie All-Stars
- 2018: FEXL 01-2018/05/15 Battle Video
- 2017: Injustice 2 - Official Gameplay Launch Trailer
- 2015: Killer Instinct (2013) Textual Stream Part 2: The One About Hisako, Cinder, and Q&A/ Retro Hisako & Cinder
- 2015: Tekken 7 - Jack-7 Reveal Trailer
- 2015: Under Night In-Birth Exe:Late[st] Announcement + Phonon Reveal & Location Test Announcement
- 2014: Arcana Heart 3: Love Max!!!!! PS3/Vita Promotion Movie
- 2014: P4AU Labrys Trailer
- 2014: SSB4 5/15/14 Director’s Room Post - Color TV-Game 15 Assist Trophy Details
- 2014: UNIEL System Page
- 2014: USFIV Pre-Order Costumes Trailer/Balance Changes Videos for Ryu, Gouken, Evil Ryu, & Cammy.
- 2013: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: All-Star Battle Kars & Kishibe Rohan Reveal
- 2013: Skullgirls - Early Work-in-Progress River King Casino Music - Piano Melody
- 2012: Asura Wrath's Lost Episode 2 releasing on PS3 and Xbox 360.
- 2008: Bleach: Heat the Soul 5 originally releasing as a PSP exclusive only at JP.
- 2007: Art of Fighting Anthology releasing on PS2 at US.
- 1998: Clay Fighter: Sculptor's Cut originally releasing as Blockbuster rental exclusive on the Nintendo 64 at NA.
- 1994: ClayFighter Tournament Edition originally released as a SNES exclusive only in NA as a Blockbuster rental exclusive.
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula DLC Release + Character Profile, Story + Smartphone Wallpaper
- 2023: Street Fighter 6 - Open Beta Video 2: Battle Hub/16 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: MultiVersus – Official Cinematic Trailer - "You're with Me!"
- 2021: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Hinokami Chronicles Character Intro Trailer #10: Kyojuro Rengoku
- 2021: Guilty Gear -Strive- Story Trailer Livestream
- 2021: Samurai Shodown (2019) Shiro Tokisada Amakusa Reveal + Steam Port Announcement
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.0 - 0.53.2 Change Log
- 2019: Flappy Fighter - Battle 2
- 2019: GG1 + GGXXACR releasing on Nintendo Switch via eShop WW + Guilty Gear 20th Anniversary Collection releasing at JP
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Helen Gameplay Trailer
- 2018: BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle - RWBY Highlight Trailer
- 2018: FEXL 01-2018/05/16 Battle Video
- 2017: Injustice 2 originally releasing on PS4 and XB1 at NA.
- 2017: UNIST Experience Event Announcement
- 2014: P4AU Ver.1.11 Update Notice
- 2014: SSB4 5/16/14 Director’s Room Post - Villager Alternate Costumes Reveal
- 2014: UNIB 2014 Summer Illustration Contest Announcement
- 2008: GGXXAC+R Hidden Element Annonncement
- 2001: Project Justice releasing on Dreamcast at NA.
- 2001: Super Smash Bros. Melee Official Reveal + Trailers #1 & #2/ Reactions
- 2023: GGST Season Pass 2 Playable Character #4 [Asuka R♯] Trailer/Gamespot Exclusive Gameplay
- 2023: SF6 15 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2021: Mortal Kombat 1 - Tomorrow Is A New Dawn Teaser
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula Concept Art
- 2023: Street Fighter 6 - Open Beta Video 3: Competitive Features & Events
- 2022: DNF Duel｜Story Mode
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town DLC Release/Geese Howard Tomohiro Nakata Sketch
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 1 - What is Magic?
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.3 - 0.53.4 Change Log
- 2020: DBFZ Goku (Ultra Instinct) Launch Trailer
- 2019: GBVS Closed Beta Exhibition Match
- 2019: Guilty Gear 20th Anniversary Collection releasing at EU + Launch Trailer
- 2019: Kill la Kill If Story Mode Chapter 1 Movie Preview
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Liongate Gameplay Trailer
- 2018: BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle - Persona 4 Arena Highlight + Yang Gameplay - Distortions, Combos & Assists
- 2018: SCVI Yoshimitsu Reveal + Screenshots
- 2017: Injustice 2 releasing on PS4 & XB1 at AU.
- 2017: Tekken 7 - Character Trailer #2
- 2013: BlazBlue Anime Adaptation Announcement
- 2013: Skullgirls Beowulf Announcement
- 2013: UNIB 2013 May Q&A Corner
- 2012: PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale Hades Brawl & Colorful Battle Videos
- 2010: BBCS 2nd PV Trailer
- 2008: SCVI Ashlotte Reveal
- 2005: Nintendo Wii Official Reveal at E3 2005
- Super Smash Bros. Brawl Announcement
- 2005: Spectral VS Generation originally releasing at arcades at JP
- 2001: Super Smash Bros. Melee Official Website Launch/IGN E3 Hands-On Impression & Gameplay #1, #2, #3
- 2023: Guilty Gear -Strive- Starter Guide - Asuka R♯
- 2023: Mortal Kombat 1 - Official Announcement Trailer
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula Theme BGM Composer Statement
- 2023: Street Fighter 6: Days of the Eclipse #3: Manipulation Issue Release/14 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 2 - Worldwide Development and Gears
- 2021: Fighting Game Glossary by Infilament originally launching
- 2021: KOFXV Ralf Jones & Clark Still Silhouette
- 2021: Skullgirls 2nd Encore 2021-05-18 Beta Mode Update
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.5 Change Log
- 2020: Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermath - Official Friendships Trailer
- 2019: TFH Early Access Patch #19
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Curly Brace
- 2016: KOFXIV Team Gameplay Trailer #2 - Yagami
- 2012: Cartoon Network Punch Time Explosion XL releasing on the Wii, PS3, and Xbox 360 at EU.
- 2012: UNIB Waldstein SD Wallpaper
- 2011: BlazBlue: Continuum Shift II releasing at arcades at NA.
- 2023: Mortal Kombat 1 Kollector’s Edition Liu Kang Statue Preview
- 2023: SF6 13 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: DNF Duel｜Practice Mode
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town Kou:G Illustration
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 3 - The Crusades
- 2021: KOFXV - Character Trailer #19-20 - Ralf Jones & Clark Still + Screenshots/Team Ikari Reveal
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.6 - 0.53.7 Change Log
- 2021: Umbrella Animation Stream with Persona! (May 19, 2021)
- 2017: Injustice 2 releasing on PS4 & XB1 at EU.
- 2017: Tekken 7 “No Glory For Heroes” English Story Trailer
- 2017: UNIST Home Information
- 2016: Killer Instinct (2013) Gargos Release Date Reveal/Gargos Ultra Combo & Montage, Gameplay Footage vs. Mira, Thunder & Tusk
- 2015: Street Fighter V - M. Bison Reveal Trailer
- 2015: Tekken 7 Jack-7 Release
- 2014: BB x BB Collaboration Beginning
- 2014: SSB4 5/19/14 Director’s Room Post
- 2013: Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign- Announcement Trailer + Screenshots
- 2011: Dead or Alive: Dimensions originally releasing on the Nintendo 3DS at JP.
- 2010: BBCS Tager & Litchi Information
- 2005: IGN E3 2005: Shigeru Miyamoto Interview
- 2005: Vampire: Darkstalkers Collection originally releasing as a PS2 exclusive only in JP.
- 1998: Bio F.R.E.A.K.S. originally releasing on the Nintendo 64 at NA.
- 2023: SF6 12 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2021: Blazing Strike Publisher “Aksys Games” Reveal + Press Release
- 2021: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Hinokami Chronicles Tanjiro Kamado (Hinokami Kagura) Reveal
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 4 - The Second Holy Order Selection Tournament
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.8 - 0.53.9 Change Log
- 2021: Virtua Fighter x eSports Official Announcement Live Stream Reveal
- 2020: Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermath – RoboCop vs. Terminator Round 1 & Round 2 Gameplay Footage
- 2020: TFH Version 1.0.3 Patch Notes
- 2016: One Piece: Great Pirate Colosseum Announcement
- 2016: UNIB 5-20-16 Licht Kreis Information Division Corner
- 2015: M.Bison Makes His Return in SFV
- 2014: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: All-Star Battle Vannila Ice, Pannacotta Fugo & Narciso Anasui DLC Release
- 2014: P4AU Ken Armada & Koromaru Reveal
- 2014: SSB4 5/20/14 Director’s Room Post - Assist Trophy Item Capsule Showcase
- 2014: USFIV PS4 Pre-Orders Beginning
- 2013: ASW 25th Anniversary Book Release Window Reveal + Festival Conclusion Message
- 2013: Injustice Gods Among Us v1.03 Patch Notes
- 2011: BBCS 3rd Patch Distribution
- 2011: Dead or Alive: Dimensions releasing on the Nintendo 3DS at EU.
- 2011: Guilty Gear XX Accent Core Plus releasing on Wii at EU.
2024.05.16 04:18 fganniversaries Fighting Game Anniversaries: Week 20 (May 13 - May 19)
Hey, yall. This is fganniversaries and apologies for missing last week; I genuinely thought that I posted for the week but turns out that I didn't upon looking. As per usual, I will be recapping anniversaries relating to fighting game announcements/releases this week. Like always, if I missed one, do please let me know in the comments. Here would be the following anniversaries:
May 13
submitted by fganniversaries to u/fganniversaries [link] [comments]
May 13
- 2023: SF6 20 Days Left & 19 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town Press Release
- 2022: Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl - Official Jenny, Hugh Neutron & Rocko Reveal Trailer/Jenny DLC Release + Moveset & Gameplay Showcase
- 2021: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Hinokami Chronicles Kyojuro Rengoku Reveal
- 2021: KOFXV Leona Heidern Tomohiro Nakata Sketch
- 2020: Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermath - Official Gameplay Trailer
- 2020: Samurai Shodown (2019) - Iroha DLC Release
- 2020: TFH Post-Launch Development Update #1 + Story Mode Chapter 1 Dev Commentary
- 2016: UNIB 5-13-16 Information Division Corner
- 2014: BBCP Version 1.1 Patch Notes
- 2014: JJBA:ASB Lisa Lisa & Ikuro Hashizawa DLC Release
- 2014: Skullgirls Encore 1.02: Are You Ready For? Edition Patch Notes
- 2014: SSB3DS/Wii U 5/13/14 Director’s Room Post - Charizard’s Flare Blitz Special Move Reveal
- 2013: Divekick - New Character Reveal: Markman + #eSports Hour #5
- 2010: Battle Fantasia Xbox Live Distribution
- 2010: BlazBlue PC Release Postpone Announcement
- 2005: SvC Chaos releasing on Xbox at AU.
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula Character Breakdown Trailer
- 2023: SF6 18 Days Left Countdown Illustration/Dan Tails
- 2020: GGST 1st Delay Announcement
- 2020: KOFx WWE + Cinematic Trailer/Razer Giveaway
- 2019: Samurai Shodown (2019) - Return of a Legend Trailer/Character Trailer #6 - Genjuro & Character Trailer #7 - Haohmaru
- 2019: SCVI Update Ver. 1.40 Patch Notes
- 2018: ARCommunity Sol Badguy of Guilty Gear - Digital Painting by Nainsoo
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Kawase Gameplay Trailer
- 2018: Guilty Gear NS, PS4, and PC Digital Port Announcement
- 2015: MKX Patch Notes 5/14/15 + Reptile Skin
- 2014: BBCP Version 1.1 Release
- 2014: SSB4 5/14/14 Director’s Room Post - Brittany Trophy Reveal
- 2013: Injustice "The Killing Joke" Skin Pack Announcement
- 2013: Skullgirls Color DLC Today, New Characters Coming
- 2009: Bleach: Heat the Soul 6 originally releasing on PSP at JP.
- 1998: Guilty Gear: The Missing Link originally releasing on PS1 at JP.
- 2023: Street Fighter 6 - Open Beta Video 1: Characters & Battle System/17 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town Team Story
- 2021: PS5 releasing at CHN.
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.52.2 - 0.52.3 Change Log
- 2020: KOFAS x WWE Blogpost
- 2019: GBVS Trailers: Gran, Katalina, Charlotta, Lancelot, Ferry
- 2019: GGXXACR NS Promotional Video
- 2019: Guilty Gear releaisng on PC via Steam WW.
- 2019: MK11 Combo Breaker Tournament Stage Variant Reveal + Gameplay Footage
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Noko GameplayTrailer/Blade Strangers Joined by Indie All-Stars
- 2018: FEXL 01-2018/05/15 Battle Video
- 2017: Injustice 2 - Official Gameplay Launch Trailer
- 2015: Killer Instinct (2013) Textual Stream Part 2: The One About Hisako, Cinder, and Q&A/ Retro Hisako & Cinder
- 2015: Tekken 7 - Jack-7 Reveal Trailer
- 2015: Under Night In-Birth Exe:Late[st] Announcement + Phonon Reveal & Location Test Announcement
- 2014: Arcana Heart 3: Love Max!!!!! PS3/Vita Promotion Movie
- 2014: P4AU Labrys Trailer
- 2014: SSB4 5/15/14 Director’s Room Post - Color TV-Game 15 Assist Trophy Details
- 2014: UNIEL System Page
- 2014: USFIV Pre-Order Costumes Trailer/Balance Changes Videos for Ryu, Gouken, Evil Ryu, & Cammy.
- 2013: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: All-Star Battle Kars & Kishibe Rohan Reveal
- 2013: Skullgirls - Early Work-in-Progress River King Casino Music - Piano Melody
- 2012: Asura Wrath's Lost Episode 2 releasing on PS3 and Xbox 360.
- 2008: Bleach: Heat the Soul 5 originally releasing as a PSP exclusive only at JP.
- 2007: Art of Fighting Anthology releasing on PS2 at US.
- 1998: Clay Fighter: Sculptor's Cut originally releasing as Blockbuster rental exclusive on the Nintendo 64 at NA.
- 1994: ClayFighter Tournament Edition originally released as a SNES exclusive only in NA as a Blockbuster rental exclusive.
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula DLC Release + Character Profile, Story + Smartphone Wallpaper
- 2023: Street Fighter 6 - Open Beta Video 2: Battle Hub/16 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: MultiVersus – Official Cinematic Trailer - "You're with Me!"
- 2021: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Hinokami Chronicles Character Intro Trailer #10: Kyojuro Rengoku
- 2021: Guilty Gear -Strive- Story Trailer Livestream
- 2021: Samurai Shodown (2019) Shiro Tokisada Amakusa Reveal + Steam Port Announcement
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.0 - 0.53.2 Change Log
- 2019: Flappy Fighter - Battle 2
- 2019: GG1 + GGXXACR releasing on Nintendo Switch via eShop WW + Guilty Gear 20th Anniversary Collection releasing at JP
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Helen Gameplay Trailer
- 2018: BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle - RWBY Highlight Trailer
- 2018: FEXL 01-2018/05/16 Battle Video
- 2017: Injustice 2 originally releasing on PS4 and XB1 at NA.
- 2017: UNIST Experience Event Announcement
- 2014: P4AU Ver.1.11 Update Notice
- 2014: SSB4 5/16/14 Director’s Room Post - Villager Alternate Costumes Reveal
- 2014: UNIB 2014 Summer Illustration Contest Announcement
- 2008: GGXXAC+R Hidden Element Annonncement
- 2001: Project Justice releasing on Dreamcast at NA.
- 2001: Super Smash Bros. Melee Official Reveal + Trailers #1 & #2/ Reactions
- 2023: GGST Season Pass 2 Playable Character #4 [Asuka R♯] Trailer/Gamespot Exclusive Gameplay
- 2023: SF6 15 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2021: Mortal Kombat 1 - Tomorrow Is A New Dawn Teaser
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula Concept Art
- 2023: Street Fighter 6 - Open Beta Video 3: Competitive Features & Events
- 2022: DNF Duel｜Story Mode
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town DLC Release/Geese Howard Tomohiro Nakata Sketch
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 1 - What is Magic?
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.3 - 0.53.4 Change Log
- 2020: DBFZ Goku (Ultra Instinct) Launch Trailer
- 2019: GBVS Closed Beta Exhibition Match
- 2019: Guilty Gear 20th Anniversary Collection releasing at EU + Launch Trailer
- 2019: Kill la Kill If Story Mode Chapter 1 Movie Preview
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Liongate Gameplay Trailer
- 2018: BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle - Persona 4 Arena Highlight + Yang Gameplay - Distortions, Combos & Assists
- 2018: SCVI Yoshimitsu Reveal + Screenshots
- 2017: Injustice 2 releasing on PS4 & XB1 at AU.
- 2017: Tekken 7 - Character Trailer #2
- 2013: BlazBlue Anime Adaptation Announcement
- 2013: Skullgirls Beowulf Announcement
- 2013: UNIB 2013 May Q&A Corner
- 2012: PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale Hades Brawl & Colorful Battle Videos
- 2010: BBCS 2nd PV Trailer
- 2008: SCVI Ashlotte Reveal
- 2005: Nintendo Wii Official Reveal at E3 2005
- Super Smash Bros. Brawl Announcement
- 2005: Spectral VS Generation originally releasing at arcades at JP
- 2001: Super Smash Bros. Melee Official Website Launch/IGN E3 Hands-On Impression & Gameplay #1, #2, #3
- 2023: Guilty Gear -Strive- Starter Guide - Asuka R♯
- 2023: Mortal Kombat 1 - Official Announcement Trailer
- 2023: KOFXV Sylvie Paula Paula Theme BGM Composer Statement
- 2023: Street Fighter 6: Days of the Eclipse #3: Manipulation Issue Release/14 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 2 - Worldwide Development and Gears
- 2021: Fighting Game Glossary by Infilament originally launching
- 2021: KOFXV Ralf Jones & Clark Still Silhouette
- 2021: Skullgirls 2nd Encore 2021-05-18 Beta Mode Update
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.5 Change Log
- 2020: Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermath - Official Friendships Trailer
- 2019: TFH Early Access Patch #19
- 2018: Blade Strangers - Curly Brace
- 2016: KOFXIV Team Gameplay Trailer #2 - Yagami
- 2012: Cartoon Network Punch Time Explosion XL releasing on the Wii, PS3, and Xbox 360 at EU.
- 2012: UNIB Waldstein SD Wallpaper
- 2011: BlazBlue: Continuum Shift II releasing at arcades at NA.
- 2023: Mortal Kombat 1 Kollector’s Edition Liu Kang Statue Preview
- 2023: SF6 13 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2022: DNF Duel｜Practice Mode
- 2022: KOFXV Team South Town Kou:G Illustration
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 3 - The Crusades
- 2021: KOFXV - Character Trailer #19-20 - Ralf Jones & Clark Still + Screenshots/Team Ikari Reveal
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.6 - 0.53.7 Change Log
- 2021: Umbrella Animation Stream with Persona! (May 19, 2021)
- 2017: Injustice 2 releasing on PS4 & XB1 at EU.
- 2017: Tekken 7 “No Glory For Heroes” English Story Trailer
- 2017: UNIST Home Information
- 2016: Killer Instinct (2013) Gargos Release Date Reveal/Gargos Ultra Combo & Montage, Gameplay Footage vs. Mira, Thunder & Tusk
- 2015: Street Fighter V - M. Bison Reveal Trailer
- 2015: Tekken 7 Jack-7 Release
- 2014: BB x BB Collaboration Beginning
- 2014: SSB4 5/19/14 Director’s Room Post
- 2013: Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign- Announcement Trailer + Screenshots
- 2011: Dead or Alive: Dimensions originally releasing on the Nintendo 3DS at JP.
- 2010: BBCS Tager & Litchi Information
- 2005: IGN E3 2005: Shigeru Miyamoto Interview
- 2005: Vampire: Darkstalkers Collection originally releasing as a PS2 exclusive only in JP.
- 1998: Bio F.R.E.A.K.S. originally releasing on the Nintendo 64 at NA.
- 2023: SF6 12 Days Left Countdown Illustration
- 2021: Blazing Strike Publisher “Aksys Games” Reveal + Press Release
- 2021: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Hinokami Chronicles Tanjiro Kamado (Hinokami Kagura) Reveal
- 2021: ExplaMaytions with May! Episode 4 - The Second Holy Order Selection Tournament
- 2021: Tough Love Arena 0.53.8 - 0.53.9 Change Log
- 2021: Virtua Fighter x eSports Official Announcement Live Stream Reveal
- 2020: Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermath – RoboCop vs. Terminator Round 1 & Round 2 Gameplay Footage
- 2020: TFH Version 1.0.3 Patch Notes
- 2016: One Piece: Great Pirate Colosseum Announcement
- 2016: UNIB 5-20-16 Licht Kreis Information Division Corner
- 2015: M.Bison Makes His Return in SFV
- 2014: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: All-Star Battle Vannila Ice, Pannacotta Fugo & Narciso Anasui DLC Release
- 2014: P4AU Ken Armada & Koromaru Reveal
- 2014: SSB4 5/20/14 Director’s Room Post - Assist Trophy Item Capsule Showcase
- 2014: USFIV PS4 Pre-Orders Beginning
- 2013: ASW 25th Anniversary Book Release Window Reveal + Festival Conclusion Message
- 2013: Injustice Gods Among Us v1.03 Patch Notes
- 2011: BBCS 3rd Patch Distribution
- 2011: Dead or Alive: Dimensions releasing on the Nintendo 3DS at EU.
- 2011: Guilty Gear XX Accent Core Plus releasing on Wii at EU.
2024.05.16 04:06 readandyype Best Route to College?
Hello, I'm a junior high school student going into my senior year in a few months. I have different plans laid out for college, and I was wondering which of these seem best. Ideally, I want to study urban planning (or at least something that connects with it and pursue a masters in urban planning after) or civil engineering in a non-commuter college, in an urban setting, while not having to spend too much (I'm in California).
I also have several questions such as
submitted by readandyype to ApplyingToCollege [link] [comments]
- Community college to a 4 year (Hopefully UCB or UCLA 🙏🙏). I'm interested on doing this because it's not only cheaper than going straight into a four year but I'll also have a higher chance of getting into a more prestigious school
- Going straight into a four year. While going to a CC first would probably be the smarter move, it doesn't intrigue me in the same way going straight into a four year does, and I don't want to feel as if I missed out on the college experience/experience living in a big city.
- Going international for a bachelor's, and then getting my master's in the US. I am a dual Mexican-American citizenship holder, and I was considering going to UNAM (National Autonomous University of Mexico). It's one of the most prestigious universities in Latin America, and the tuition is essentially free. However I don't see myself working there after I graduate, which could make getting a job in the U.S difficult. Also my Spanish isn't perfect, but I can definitely improve it within the next year, but traveling there has also been a dream of mine for a while, and I feel like I would enjoy the experience of living there.
I also have several questions such as
- If my first semester senior grades will matter, and if that will be included in my GPA? (Especially for UC schools) because if that is the case I believe I can make my GPA even higher (to a 4.16W at most)
- If I should even bother taking the SAT/ACT
2024.05.16 03:59 AlienCommander News: Alice Guo Wins Miss Universe
 | In a sensational display of grace, intelligence and class, Alice Guo, mayor of the Philippine municipality of Bamban, has tonight been crowned Miss Universe at the annual international women's beauty pageant, this year held in the Philippines capital of Manila. submitted by AlienCommander to 2philippines4u [link] [comments] Competing against candidates from dozens of countries, Miss Guo gave a flawless performance in front of thousands of ecstatic fans gathered at the Mall of Asia Arena. Miss Guo impressed in every segment of the competition, dazzling the audience with an evening gown handmade from critically endangered Palawan Hornbill feathers, and showing her eco-conscious side in a translucent swimsuit made with plastic waste recovered from Manila Bay. For the question-and-answer segment, Miss Guo was asked by pageant host, Steve Harvey, what advice she had for young Filipinas looking to enter politics, responding that young people should work on building and telling a story about themselves. In her final remarks, the politician cum beauty queen credited her victory to her humble begginings as a pig farmer, and said she would use her voice as Miss Universe to build closer relations between the Philippines and China. Outside the arena, a crowd of thirsty young men waited amid humid conditions to throw flowers at Miss Guo's limosuine as it departed the car park. We spoke to one male fan, identifying himself only as 'Super Simp', who said, "I used to be lonely and waste all my time on Reddit, but since Alice came into my life, I have reason to wake up and strive every day. She's the most beautiful woman in the world!" |
2024.05.16 03:25 Which-Raisin3765 Random bystander asking about the legitimacy of The Guardian’s claim about being unbiased
The following request for donations was at the bottom of a recent article published on The Guardian website. It’d be appreciated if some knowledgeable and informed people (moreso than myself) could fact check these statements. Here it is:
“I hope you appreciated this article. Before you move on, I wanted to ask if you would consider supporting the Guardian’s journalism as we enter one of the most consequential news cycles of our lifetimes in 2024. With the potential of another Trump presidency looming, there are countless angles to cover around this year’s election – and we'll be there to shed light on each new development, with explainers, key takeaways and analysis of what it means for America, democracy and the world. From Elon Musk to the Murdochs, a small number of billionaire owners have a powerful hold on so much of the information that reaches the public about what’s happening in the world. The Guardian is different. We have no billionaire owner or shareholders to consider. Our journalism is produced to serve the public interest – not profit motives. And we avoid the trap that befalls much US media: the tendency, born of a desire to please all sides, to engage in false equivalence in the name of neutrality. We always strive to be fair. But sometimes that means calling out the lies of powerful people and institutions – and making clear how misinformation and demagoguery can damage democracy. From threats to election integrity, to the spiraling climate crisis, to complex foreign conflicts, our journalists contextualize, investigate and illuminate the critical stories of our time. As a global news organization with a robust US reporting staff, we’re able to provide a fresh, outsider perspective – one so often missing in the American media bubble. Around the world, readers can access the Guardian’s paywall-free journalism because of our unique reader-supported model. That’s because of people like you. Our readers keep us independent, beholden to no outside influence and accessible to everyone – whether they can afford to pay for news, or not.”
These claims sound great if true, but I have trouble loosening up to these statements at face value. I’m aware it’s likely thinly veiled advertising, but supporting news outlets that actually care about spreading correct information for the benefit of the people seems like a nice dream anyway. Would love some clarification. Cheers
submitted by Which-Raisin3765 to Journalism [link] [comments]
“I hope you appreciated this article. Before you move on, I wanted to ask if you would consider supporting the Guardian’s journalism as we enter one of the most consequential news cycles of our lifetimes in 2024. With the potential of another Trump presidency looming, there are countless angles to cover around this year’s election – and we'll be there to shed light on each new development, with explainers, key takeaways and analysis of what it means for America, democracy and the world. From Elon Musk to the Murdochs, a small number of billionaire owners have a powerful hold on so much of the information that reaches the public about what’s happening in the world. The Guardian is different. We have no billionaire owner or shareholders to consider. Our journalism is produced to serve the public interest – not profit motives. And we avoid the trap that befalls much US media: the tendency, born of a desire to please all sides, to engage in false equivalence in the name of neutrality. We always strive to be fair. But sometimes that means calling out the lies of powerful people and institutions – and making clear how misinformation and demagoguery can damage democracy. From threats to election integrity, to the spiraling climate crisis, to complex foreign conflicts, our journalists contextualize, investigate and illuminate the critical stories of our time. As a global news organization with a robust US reporting staff, we’re able to provide a fresh, outsider perspective – one so often missing in the American media bubble. Around the world, readers can access the Guardian’s paywall-free journalism because of our unique reader-supported model. That’s because of people like you. Our readers keep us independent, beholden to no outside influence and accessible to everyone – whether they can afford to pay for news, or not.”
These claims sound great if true, but I have trouble loosening up to these statements at face value. I’m aware it’s likely thinly veiled advertising, but supporting news outlets that actually care about spreading correct information for the benefit of the people seems like a nice dream anyway. Would love some clarification. Cheers
2024.05.16 03:00 idkjustyet5 Im 19and Stupid
I want to get my first car, I’ve saved up enough to buy a car, since it is my first I’m getting it off Facebook marketplace
I want to know certain things
Should I be the one signing the title? I’ve heard it’s best if your parents do it so insurance or some bs
Registering it what to know the dos and the donts
Getting the car plated
^ same goes for insurance, I’ve heard plenty of people saying if you just have it under you parents.
I am from America and the State of Nevada
And well shit if I’m missing anything please DO TELL!
submitted by idkjustyet5 to carbuying [link] [comments]
I want to know certain things
Should I be the one signing the title? I’ve heard it’s best if your parents do it so insurance or some bs
Registering it what to know the dos and the donts
Getting the car plated
^ same goes for insurance, I’ve heard plenty of people saying if you just have it under you parents.
I am from America and the State of Nevada
And well shit if I’m missing anything please DO TELL!
2024.05.16 02:48 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:45 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to scarystories [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:44 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to Odd_directions [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:42 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
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I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:41 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to DarkTales [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
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