I've been single for several years now and i still feel like a noob at dating hahah. Can't we just skip to the late night cuddles, the bullying as an act of love? Playing videogames together, sharing weird memes and visiting new places?
Anyway, my name is Jordy, i'm 27 years old, 1.79m tall with a dad bod, from Belgium. I've been working as a technician for a telecommunications company for the past 6 years. My career is going well and i enjoy my job however, my dream would be to open up my own nerd/geek café where people can play videogames, boardgames/D&D, read comics, manga, have LAN parties, host movie nights? Etc. But as a smart person once said:"In this economy?!".
Most of my hobbies include the things mentioned above hahah, you can also add anime, playing guitar and hikes on to the list though.
I'm a big time music addict. I love pop, rock, punk, edm and will listen to most things. My favorite artists are currently Lewis Capaldi and Jake Scott. You will hear me sing most of the day, every day - i'm sorry in advance (not).
Personality wise i'm an introvert. During my job hours i'm mostly outside and talking to strangers but it does empty my social battery. A party is the last place i wanna be basically hahah, it's not my cup of tea. I do however enjoy going to museums, concerts, cinemas, bowling alleys, etc. I'm also not a very serious person, i love dark humor and enjoy making people laugh. I consider myself to be a hopeless romantic who's love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch. I wanna emphasise that i'm looking for a serious long term relationship but once we are comfortable with eachother, you will notice i have a pretty high libido. I know that's not everyone's cup of tea and that's ok.
I'm hoping to find someone with similar interests and who's looking for the same thing. Hopefully if we hit it off, we can close the distance! I'm not looking for just an online thing. When you message me, please introduce yourself. Ohh, and here's me: https://imgur.com/a/a1btyJX

So, I was dreaming that I was at this summer camp thingy, with some cabins, tents, and a tall watchtower. I go up said watchtower and, on a table at the top I find 2 pack of cigarettes.
The wierd part comes in, when, as I pick up said cigarette packs, I feel like I remember doing this before, like a wierd deja vu.
And its not like I have had a similar memory in reality, dream "me" rememberd doing this before.
Is there an explination for this or was it just my brain trolling me?

You’d be happy to know that despite my best efforts to label you as the reason I was stressed, I was wrong.
You’d be happy to know I haven’t thought of you in 30 seconds.
You’d be happy to know I broke that streak.
You’d be happy to know that I’m a donor.
You’d be happy to know I haven’t had a cigarette in 109 days.
You’d be happy to know I sleep better.
You’d be happy to know I dream of you more.
You’d be happy to know I cry about her every day.
You’d be happy to know I’ve kept her things for you, just in case.
You’d be happy to know that I don’t look for you in everything like I used to. I see you in everything. You’ve given me an interest in architecture. You’ve given me an idea of what I want my children to be like, how I’d like for them to be raised. With that gentle, caring and compassionate demeanor. The same way you’d raised her. God she was so good, wasn’t she? She was good because you’re so good.
I meant for this to be a poem of sorts, but I’m tired of speaking so vaguely. I’m tired of trying to think of clever little signs to leave you, that only you would understand.
I just want to say how I feel.
It’s hard to believe that someone with so much goodness, just this genuine kindness, can truly exist in such a world. I avoid all of it, because it hurts so much to know that it can be so cruel. But you show it just how much sun there is to shine.
You and her both.
I’ll miss her for the rest of my life.
But I don’t have to miss you forever. You and I can still figure it out.
I hope we do. I hope you’ll visit someday.
I really need your guidance right now. I’m sorry again, that it took me so long to realize what was going on in my head.
It’s funny, how people like me can be mistook the way we are because of how we register social situations. Or like, our inability to register social cues the same way.
I laugh sometimes, about the instances in which I can remember people looking at me funny after I’d talked. LOL.
Good thing I don’t experience embarrassment, eh?
I like myself, regardless of what others honk I am supposed to be. But I’d truly love myself if I never let you go.
How could I be so reactionary? So stupid?
Where was this level headedness when I had you?
I know I keep saying “last one”, but I’ll probably spend a good amount of time writing to you. Even when you’re right next to me, sleeping off the night before.
Forever and always, Yours.

Cigarettes and rebellion have always gone hand-in-hand, and in an age of cigarette packet-sized health warnings, now more than ever, smoking a fag says: 'I do not give a fuck.' But if Brandon Flowers is hoping to strike a seditious pose by sparking up at the start of the interview, it's not going according to plan. The Killers' frontman is on all fours rooting through the junk that carpets the anteroom at the band's rehearsal space. "Has anyone seen my lighter?" he asks, rocking back on his heels. The question hangs in the air while Brandon cocks his head, waiting for an answer like a meerkat listening for a predator. Twenty-five years old and with a delicate bone structure, there's something almost dainty about him. Receiving no response, he returns to his search. "Oh, Jeez," he sighs. "I had it just a minute ago."
It's a scene that emphatically does not suggest a rebel without a cause. The mess isn't helping. The Killers' HQ - an industrial unit sandwiched between a construction supplier and the offices of a housing development just off Dean Martin Drive in West Las Vegas - is ankle-deep in designer clothing. A Dior Homme suit lies crumpled by the door; there's a pile of shoes topped like a sundae by a pair of Marc Jacobs trainers; and anyone wishing to enter the shoebox room the band use as an office must negotiate a mountain of discarded jeans. Many items are identifiable as coming from the wardrobe of Hot Fuss, The Killers' hugely successful 2004 debut album - triple platinum in the UK with two weeks at Number One and five million sold worldwide. Look! There are the shirts, ties and suit jackets they wore when they thrilled Glastonbury 2005 with indie rock anthems Mr Brightside and Somebody Told Me. That was the crowning moment of a two-and-a-half year tour that finally concluded in October of last year. It seems that after playing that final date in Miami, they returned to Vegas and shrugged off their image onto the floor of this bland white box.
Now a fine layer of dust covers the dead clothes. The Killers have no further use for white tuxedos on their second album, Sam's Town. Today, Brandon wears a black polo shirt, black pin-stripe waistcoat, black jeans and black boots. Where there used to be a layer of foundation, there is now a beard - an untrimmed beard at that. Dave Keuning (30, guitar), Mark Stoermer (29, bass) and Ronnie Vannucci (29, drums) all echo Brandon's black ensemble. Ronnie has added Aviator shades and a handlebar moustache for a dash of motorcycle cop, Dave's frizzy bubble of hair gives him a Marc Bolan-ish air, and there's something very teenage about Mark's scuffed Vans.
Short of walking around wearing sandwich boards saying, "Our new record is a bit heavier than the last one," The Killers couldn't hope to communicate that message more effectively. And they have gained some musical girth on Sam's Town. The pop hooks that made Hot Fuss so irresistible survive intact - see the ringing guitar riffs on first single When You Were Young - but there's a newfound punchiness, coupled with an epic sweep. The minor-to-major uplifts on Bones are fabulously dramatic, the coda to Why Do I Keep Counting? thrillingly intense. Comparisons to Bruce Springsteen have been made. If they overstate the case a little, they are at leaset qualitatively accurate. The Killers are back and this time it's serious - they've got the bootlace ties to prove it.
"Hey, it says here that Springsteen's headlining Glastonbury next year," shouts Ronnie, who's flicking through the NME. He nods sagely at the page without looking up.
"Really?" asks Dave, nicknamed Crazy Dave on account of his alledgedly volatile nature.
"The Boss is headlining one night, we're playing second on the bill the next night and Kylie's headlining the Sunday," says Brandon, charging like a bull through Michael Eavis' as-yet-unannounced line-up with what subsequently proves to be a characteristic gaucheness.
But that lighter is proving elusive. This being America, none of the people hurrying to-and-fro prepping the world for the release of Sam's Town smokes. Manager Robert Reynolds - Bobby Rey to the band - barks into his mobile, booking his band onto eye-wateringly demanding tours. "We're going to make a lot of money," he cackles to himself before switching calls to make a series of stern pronouncements on legal matters. Dave, Mark and Ronnie disappear for a jam session. Artwork is approved, B-sides are decided on and schedules are hammered out.
"I can't find it," Brandon says, finally. But he's not going to be denied the opportunity to underline The Killers reinvention with a puff of smoke. "Let's go to the gas station. I'll have to buy one. It's too busy to talk here anyway."
+
Brandon's black (of course) Volkswagen Touraeg four-wheel drive is barrelling down West Flamingo Road into town. "I was a bell boy there," he says, pointing out of the driver's window at the stucco facade of the Gold Coast casino. "I was working there when we were signed."
Coming from Las Vegas, it is perhaps inevitable that casinos play a big part in The Killers' story; not only is Sam's Town named after one, it was recorded in one, too.
The band began writing songs while on the road with Hot Fuss, turning up early for soundchecks to run through new ideas. On a trip home to Vegas, George Maloof, a hotelier known for cultivating famous friends, invited them to record the album in the new studio he'd built at The Palms, his flagship hotel-cum-gambling den. When the tour finished in October 2005, they returned to Vegas and spent five month finessing the songs they'd sketched out on the road. Then, in February, they decampled to the third floor studio at The Palms and recorded Sam's Town over 11 weeks.
Producer Flood (U2, Depeche Mode) encouraged them to experiment. They overdubbed, fiddled with synthesizers and played with new equipment. It took them five weeks to get the backing vocals right. The band sang the harmonies, then double-tracked them four times. The end result recalls Queen wondering, "Is this is the real life? Is this just fantasy?" When Ronnie, a trained classical percussionist, brought some kettledrums down, eyebrows were raised; but the fabulously bombastic coda on Why Do I Keep Counting? vindicates his indulgence.
"That's kind of the Ben Hur of the album," he says. He's not wrong. Sam's Town is a record on an epic scale. "Yeah, it has drama," he continues. "But, at the same time, I think it's a little more exposed than Hot Fuss. It's a little more naked. Last time it was about a lot of fictional things." By "fictional", Ronnie means that Hot Fuss wore its predominantly British influences for all to see. Brandon's taste in music is rabidly Anglophile - he constantly references The Smiths, The Cure and Joy Division - and it showed. By contrast, Sam's Town is an unequivocally American record. The lyrical imagery is pure American dream - cars, girls, wide-open spaces and escaping to a better life. "We're burning down the highway skyline/On the back of a hurricane that started turning/When you were young," sings Brandon on When You Were Young. That's the basis of the Springsteen comparisons then, though the lack of pathos more closely recalls another blue-collar rocker from New Jersey - Jon Bon Jovi.
The phrase "this town" recurs throughout the album, and it's always receding into the distance as The Killers escape to a new life. "This town was made for passing through/I never did get along with everybody else," sings Brandon on This River Is Wild. On Read My Mind he "never really gave up on breaking out of this two-star town", while on the title track he offers something of an explanation: "Nobody ever had a dream round here."
"With the first record, there was this feeling that there was this world out there that we didn't know," says Mark later in the day. Before The Killers, he studied philosophy: now he's their quiet one. "We wanted to get out and away from this and be somewhere else. We hadn't had a lot of experience - hadn't travelled much - then we were gone for three years. We didn't sit down and say that we wanted to make a record about how we're glad to be home, but that's what happened naturally."
It's not an angsty record. The Killers have already escaped with Hot Fuss, and, having done so, they view the experience fondly now they're back. There's a mistiness to Brandon's eyes as he explains how the album got it's name.
"Sam's Town is a casino on the edge of Vegas," he says. "I grew up in Henderson, which is out on the way to the Hoover Dam. My mom and dad lived in a trailer park, and my dad used to hitchhike up and down Boulder Highway, which is the only way you could get to Vegas. Sam's Town was the first thing you saw on your way in to town. So, when you're driving down Boulder Highway from Henderson, I always thought you finally knew you were getting somewhere when you saw Sam's Town. It was kind of like a beacon."
"It's not a completely American album," contines Brandon. "We still have our English influence, but we're also from the Wild West. Somehow we've managed to unify all that on this album. it's just such a perfect resemblence of what we are."
At the petrol station, Brandon rummages through the glove box looking for change to buy a lighter. "This is a great album," he says, pointing at Highway Companion, the latest from iconic American rocker Tom Petty. "I've always been a big fan of his. He's such a great American artist."
Yes, Brandon: we get the point.
+
When Brandon finally lights his cigarette, he smokes it awkwardly, like a child mimicking something he's seen the grown-ups doing. However, when he cheerfully admits that, "I feel the same mentally as I did when I was 12," it's not a knowing nod to the fact that he sometimes behaves like a loveably precocious child, but a reference to an unusually comprehensive grounding in pop music at an early age.
When Brandon sings about "this town", he doesn't mean Las Vegas. He means Nephi, Utah or Henderson, Nevada, where he spent his childhood. His parents are Mormon and he is the youngest of six children. "I was a surprise," he says. "I've got a 42-year-old sister." If he was issues about his "surprise" status, he chooses to gloss over them. "It turned out perfect because my brother was a teenager when I was a kid," he says. "He would bring home things like Rattle And Hum by U2 and I would watch it. I remember he bought Live In Dallas by Morrissey. It was always him watching these things, or his door was shut and you'd hear The Head On The Door by The Cure blasting through the house and rattling the walls."
The Killers were formed when Brandon answered an advert Dave had placed in a local paper in late 2002. Dave cited Oasis as a big influence; Brandon had seen them play recently and responded; and, as Dave has said in previous interviews: "He was the only person to reply to my ad who wasn't a complete freak." However, the band was born in Brandon's brothers bedroom.
"His room was like a shrine," enthuses Brandon. "It was a holy place. I wish I could show you a picture of it. It was covered in posters. There'd be a big picture of Elvis wearing a bow tie that just said 'The Smiths' [the artwork for The Smiths 1987 single Shoplifters Of The World Unite]. You had The Cure wearing face paint [the artwork to The Cure's 1985 single In Between Days] - all that kind of stuff. I remember Morrissey being on the cover of the NME, with the halo [from 1985] - stuff like that. You just wanted to know about these people 'cause they were so cool. My brother seemed like such a cool person. But he was a teenager, so he wasn't going to be that nice to me, a kid."
Brandon was fascinated by his brother's collection of music, magazines and posters, but he was denied access to them - officially, at least. "I would sneak in," he says. "I knew he'd be angry if he found out, but I would go in as soon as he left the house." For a long time Brandon was too scared to actually play anything. "That didn't come 'til later. I just used to go in there because I liked it. Then I got to the point where I'd actually take a tape out and put it in. It took more guts to do that."
It was a life-changing moment. "I was ten and the first song I played was Sing Your Life by Morrissey. I remember dancing about to it."
The lyrics to Sing Your Life include the lines, "Sing your life/Just walk right up to the microphone/And name all the things that you love/All the things that you loathe." It's intriguing to wonder what Morrissey makes of the neophyte he inspired with these lines.
Eventually, Brandon inherited his brother's tape collection. "It was around the same time CDs started coming out in a big way. He started buying CDs and gave me his tapes. And that was it: it took off from there. I got a hundred of the best albums - all the New Order, all the Morrissey, all The Smiths, The Beatles. I started buying posters. I went to see The Cure in concert. It was just kind of a continuation of my brother. And it was nice because, though my parents were strict, they were already used to it from him. There was no, 'My dad doesn't understand me,' or any of that kind of stuff. My mum likes The Smiths."
Brandon was 13 and his favourite band was late-'70s/early-'80s American new wavers The Cars, and particularly their jaw-droppingly catchy 1979 single Just What I Needed.
"I wouldn't exist without that song," he says. "That was the one. I remember driving around with my mum when I was 13, and we're living in Nephi - a really small town - and I felt so cool when I put that song on. Like: 'I have something that none of these kids I'm going to middle school with tomorrow have.' That excitement is what music's about, isn't it? That's why I understand the mentality of people that don't like us because we've sold so many records. I used to like it when no one else knew about a band. So I get that - I do."
+
Brandon's first band was called Blush Response. It was never going to work out. Not because he refused to move to Los Angeles with them, but because he is utterly - comically - shameless. He's given to making outrageously boastful statements like: "It's not like the '60s, '70s and '80s now. There are only a few bands around that are really good, that just do it. I mean, there's what, five or six of us?"
For the record, in Brandon's estimation, those bands are Franz Ferdinand, Razorlight, The Strokes, The White Stripes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and, of course, The Killers.
"I don't want people to think I'm lumping myself with other people just to make us sound cool," he says. Really? It sort of sounds like you are. But he just steamrolls through it. "Yeah, but you know what I mean," he says, grinning at his own cheekiness. He's so disgracefully forward you can't help but laugh along with him - Oh you are awful, Brandon! But joking aside, The Killers are the most commercially successful of all the bands he mentions.
Later, back at the rehearsal space, the band run through Sam's Town at deafening volume in preparation for the forthcoming tour - first the US, then the world. The infectious, almost contagious, chorus of When You Were Young sounds fabulous, as do the U2-like guitars and Twin Peaks synths of Read My Mind. Meanwhile, Smile Like You Mean It and Somebody Told Me benefit from the newfound harder edge.
They somewhat heavy-handedly underline the new direction by playing Paranoid by Black Sabbath and Get It On by T Rex. That's the thing: The Killers are not a subtle band. Their songs are like a wet kiss from a girl who's a bit too drunk. They are big and brash, and not everyone loves them for it. Mr Brightside and Somebody Told Me might go down as well at hip nightclubs as they do on the festival circuit, but the DJs play them with the same guilty look they wear when playing a pop record.
"I hate that," says Brandon. "Like writing a song you can hum somehow cheapens it? It makes me think of this quote by Morrissey. Everybody knows how he read Oscar Wilde, Keats and Yates when he was growing up and that he wanted to be a writer. He was talking to this journalist who asked why he hadn't become a writer, and Morrissey said: 'What I do is more powerful than what you do because I can write down these words and you get it to a melody. How can you beat that?' I'm of the same opinion. I don't understand why a good melody that's memorable is a bad thing."
Being dismissed as pop particular aggrieves Ronnie. "When we first came out we got compared to Duran Duran all the time. Jesus Christ! We got a keyboard player now all of a sudden he's Nick Rhodes! Come on!"
"The people who criticise us for being too poppy don't get it," agrees Mark. "I think that's the problem with a lot of rock music. People are afraid to write a song any more. Either that or they can't. And that attitude hurts music in general. The best bands ever have all written great songs. You can still do it and do it intelligently and it can be original. This isn't a studio creation with a producer writing these songs for us. We're not Avril Lavigne, or something like that. We're a real band writing real songs, just like a punk band would do, except that we write pop songs."
You get the impression that The Killers knack for showboating pop hooks that border on vulgar is inextricably tied up with the brazen side of Brandon's personality. But while his ebullient charisma, not to mention the songs themselves, mitigates his outrageousness, there is a less attractive side to his ego. He has a combative streak. He can't resist taking pot shots at emo bands, notably Fall Out Boy, whith whom The Killers share an A&R man.
Has he heard how many emo kids it takes to change a light bulb? "No." None. They just sit in the dark and cry. It's a full 30 seconds before he stops laughing. When he does he admits: "Yeah, we've had problems with other bands. You know, when you walk in the room it's like..." He whistles the theme to The Good, The Bad And The Ugly. "We're like gangs."
And while the other members of the band are diplomatic on the subject of Brandon, you don't have to read too deeply between the lines to conclude that there have been internal issues, too.
"Some people will think Brandon's the big genius," says Dave, visibly bridling. "There are songs, such as Why Do I Keep Counting?, where he's written every note. But there are others, like When You Were Young, that were more of a collaboration - like Mr Brightside, where I had some of the music and Brandon came up with the lyrics. We always have arguments about who wrote what. The truth is that we all help in that process."
When asked how success affected them, Ronnie says: "There were certain things that needed adjusting. When you're on tour for two years, people can get a little needy. It doesn't help that you're surrounded by yes men and everybody's working for you. At times we've had to say, 'Who do you think you are?' to people. No one wears the trousers, but some people would like to. I think if it wasn't for the people in the band kicking each other in the ass... Let's just say there was some ass-kickin'."
It doesn't take a genius to work out whose ass needed kicking most often.
+
It's the following day and The Killers are back at their rehearsal space. The topic of discussion is what to wear in the video for Bones, the second single. It's a big deal: the director is Tim Burton. "I feel like Frank Sinatra when I sing it," announces Brandon. "With maybe a little bit of Morrissey and a little bit of Elvis, too."
Of course he does. But if securing the services of Tim Burton tells you one thing, it's that The Killers are about to get even bigger, perhaps even make the leap to the same level as Coldplay et al. Already stars, they are about to become superstars. Brandon can hardly wait.
"Do you know that Rolling Stone didn't want to put us on the cover last time," he says indignantly. "They didn't think we were stars. We sold five million albums! What more do they want from a band?"
Whatever was required, Brandon would be happy to do most things. "I'll do stuff that some people don't want to do, 'cause I want people to hear the music," he says. However, even he has limits. "The Rolling Stone thing made the record label think: 'What can we do to make them stars?' If I go on vacation with my wife, do they have to send somebody to be there to take pictures of me? Is that how you become a star? I don't want that. I walked down the red carpet one time and I realised I don't like it. But you don't have to walk down the red carpet for people to hear your music. We do still have some of that indie blood running through our veins."
He heads off at a tangent: "When you walk around Liverpool, you think of The Beatles, or you go to Manchester and you think of The Smiths or Oasis. I want you to come to Las Vegas and think of Sam's Town. And I think we've started to capture that, which is a truer version of The Killers, 'cause that's where we're from."
He pauses.
"I used to live across the street from Sam's Town. Maybe it'll be like our Abbey Road where people go to take pictures."
Is that what he'd like?
"I wouldn't mind it," he says, desperately hoping it will come true.
He puts a cigarette between his lips, looks down at his trouser pockets and pats them in search of the lighter he bought yesterday.
"Hey, I don't suppose you've got one?"

Morning all (or afternoon, evening, take your pick), I've been a problem substance abuser for twenty three years now, starting at 16. Luckily nothing too heavy, initially weed, I was never a gifted smoker and could never hold down a job, looked like shit and didn't care, slept all day and all night, tons of debt, shitty friends, missed out on hundreds, maybe thousands of amazing experiences because I wanted to stay home and get high. In 2008 I broke out of that, got a job in teaching and have been essentially a functioning alcoholic ever since. It's like my whole life I've always just been bad at being clear headed and straight, never content to just sit there without something getting me wrecked. Teaching is full of drinkers, I love rock, punk, metal, clubs, festivals, all full of drinkers. I am currently travelling around various spots in Asia (Vietnam - Malaysia - Japan - Thailand - currently Taiwan), working online and living the dream. Full of drinkers. I have also been a liability on a number of occasions. Drinking until 4am, blacking out, waking up somewhere where I don't know where I am. I dont piss myself but I do lose a lot of hats and cigarettes. Last Saturday morning I woke up on a bench, made it about 200m down the street then passed out on another bench, threw up under it then finally got my shit together and stumbled home. This was at about 7am in a big city in Taiwan. Families, kids going to Saturday school, elderly people exercising, everyone going about their day. And me, a 6ft3in white male barfing and sleeping in the middle of a park next to a busy subway station. It's fucking pathetic and I hate myself for it. I'm too old and too tired and my body is too beaten up to keep on doing this. But, booze is everywhere, and no matter how bad it gets I always convince myself of the same old cycle - quit completely for a little while - pat myself on the back for being a good boy - convince myself I can drink in moderation - drink in moderation for a little while - get a true taste for it - lose a whole weekend and wake up Monday feeling like hell - Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, sober and working but filled with existential dread and suicidal ideation. I'm going back to the UK in a few weeks. Even if I manage to quit for a while here, when I'm back home I will be surrounded at all time by fellow drinkers, heavy drinkers, and various sniffables and smokables and the ten months I've spent getting my head together, avoiding everything other than booze, will all go out of the window and I'll be waking up at 6am on Monday for work after 4 hours sleep all weekend with a nose clogged with blood and regret and that specific kind of headache that only valium and more booze can come close to shifting. It's fucking depressing knowing this is how weak I am. Anyway, no real point or request, just haven't put this into words for anyone else to read. I've written loads in my diary but I'm already anxious that if I die suddenly and my mother reads it she will then also die, but of secondhand shame. I'm not particularly addicted to alcohol, I only drink beer and occasionally shots, I can go days and sometimes weeks without really missing it, if the time and place is right. I'm addicted to parties and late nights and chatting shit and singing and dancing. Which is a shame because they all lose some of their appeal when you're on the soft drinks. I mean, they don't, it's all about perception. How do you cope, those that have broken free? What're your stories? I feel like this cycle is similar for everyone that knows they have a problem. Thank you for reading x

I still miss him. I was 20f and he was 27. I moved far away for a few months and we met on Bumble. We talked about Pokémon to break the ice. He was my dream guy. My perfect match. He was a recovering addict that smoked cigarettes and weed 24/7. Yea it's silly, but he changed the direction of my life.
He cradled me, he kissed me on the forehead, he held my hand in public, we watched fireworks together, he let me pick his brain, and he reassured me. As much as I needed him to.
It was the most raw and passionate I've ever felt. I felt so loved. He indulged me. We had the same scent. He was so sexy and he thought I was sexy.
Part of me knew I'd never see him again, so I asked for some of his belongings. He happily obliged. A musty wife-beater with his musk, an old work t-shirt with a naked anime woman from his past job at a sex shop, a The Flaming Lips tour shirt, a drawing from school that took inspiration from The Silversun Pickups album art, along with a note he left for me and the roach of the last joint we shared together.
The last night we shared together at the condo I was staying in I told him I loved him at the end of our lovemaking. He told me he loved me too. That was the only time we said our I love you's. It hurt that I couldn't get any closer to him. We cuddled and slept all night and he helped me pack for my trip back home. He ended up letting me stay at his home one more night. The next day I drove him to work. I told him goodbye and that I will miss him. I asked for him to wait for me and he said he would. He closed the door and I started crying. He came around to my side of the car and gave me a long kiss, and then a tender kiss on my forehead to set me free. I drove hundreds of miles home.
We talked here and there on a short video messaging app. Our contact ended completely when I shaved my head at the beginning of last year. I still have the app, and I can still see our old videos. Every once in a while I will go back to that app after I dream of him to make sure he is still living, as morbid as that sounds. I hope that one day he will send me a video. He was active today.
I know he's seen other girls after me. There's no way he hasn't. It doesn't hurt me and I don't know why. I've tried dating after him and I've even tried hooking up with someone, like we had the first time we met in person. It's never been the same. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if he feels that way too.
I still love him. If he finds this I don't care. Yea if it was one-sided this could be pretty creepy. I'm sorry for this. I've never told anyone the full story of our time together, and it's just been bubbling inside of me. I have no real friends to gush over you to, and to reminisce to. Sorry about posting it on reddit. I hope you can forgive me. I still love you.

Hello all,
I've recently discovered that DnB is probably my favorite genre.
To give a quick background blurb, I started in the EDM scene mostly surrounded by being dragged around hardstyle and house DJs since thats whats most popular in my city.
Having been to EDC last year for the first time and going to some smaller fests, I became drawn to dubstep (Excision, subtronics, kayzo). More recently, I went to both Reaper and Blanke(Aeon Mode) shows in my city, and found that dancing to DnB was the most fun I've had at a show without being blasted on drugs or alcohol.
Just looking for some good recs or if anyone doesn't mind sharing their personal spotify playlist, I would appreciate it.
List of some personal favorites at the moment:
1991 - chant, perfect(exceeder)
Delta Heavy - Ecstasy, Gargantua
Hedex - Move Your Body, Lowkey
Chase&Status - Liquor & Cigarettes, Disconnect
Sub Focus - Turn the Lights Off
Money on the Dash Sped Up Version (Not sure if this counts?)
Reaper - Call My Name, IMY
Subsonic - Last Time
DRZ - All A Dream.
Honestly, not sure if these are technically "DnB" since I'm not too familiar with the scene yet, but let me know if I'm wrong or if my taste is bad lol.
Thanks for reading.

Hi reddit!
I just wanted to come on here and share about a few dreams that I have had about things before they happened and maybe get some of your thoughts and opinions.
The first time this happened I was 15-16 and my friend, we will call her Bailey, wanted to introduce me to one of her friends because we were both single. My friend lived in an apartment complex so we were all going to go to the pool to meet up with her friend and hang out. The only thing I knew about her friend was his name and that he was blonde and I knew that this other guy was going to be there. I went to sleep that night at her apartment and had a dream that we went to the pool and met up with her friends. One of her friends was sitting on a pool chair smoking a cigarette and he got up and put his cigarrette in his mouth to give me a hug. The friend that Bailey was introducing me to then approached me and shook my hand and greeted me and said "Hi, My name is Milo." (fake name). In the morning I didn't think too much about the dream since we had been talking about what we were going to do and who was going to be there so I just figured my brain latched onto it. Fast forward and we make our way down to the pool and everything happens exactly like it did in my dream. Down to the friend smoking, the clothes they were wearing, the tone of their voices, even the guy (who I had never met or seen a picture of) looked exactly like he did in my dream. It was like if someone was showing me a camera recording of my dream. I didn't really hit it off with that guy cause I was so freaked out about the whole thing that I just felt off the whole time and I think they could tell. When we were leaving the pool I told Bailey about the dream I had and how everything was exactly the same and she sort of laughed it off like she didnt believe me. After a few years I forgot about this until I had another dream similar when I was 19.
So I never have dreams that include my phone or electronics except for the occasional tv but this time I did. In the dream I was looking at my emails on my phone and came across one that said that an order of some merch from a bands website had been canceled due to supply issues and that I was going to be getting a refund. I woke up and did my morning routine and was scrolling through twitter. I am very active on twitter in the fandoms that I am a part of so of couse I was seeing posts about peoples orders getting canceled. I found one tweet that had a compiled list of all the products that werent going to be able to be shipped out and what I had ordered was at the very bottom of the list. I immediately was like wtf so I opened my emails to find I had an email from the website that had been sent two hours before I woke up and it was unopened. The email said that my ordered had been canceled.

I wrote this for a writing prompt in writingprompts, but not many people will see it because the prompt is a little old. I just wanted to share. Wrote during breaks at work so forgive me if it’s a little rough around the edges.
The prompt was, “Watching the man or woman of your dreams fall in love with someone else.”
feedback appreciated
::Caitlyn::
I watched her through her kitchen window.
She stood by the sink—wine glass in her hand, gently swirling it as she looked at her phone. God, was she pretty tonight. The yellow kitchen light cast a glow upon her skin, and I swear she was the brightest thing in the room—more so even than the bulb itself. Fishnet lace snaked up her legs, red as summer wine, and her bathrobe parted just enough at the top to tease—just enough to draw your attention to it so that she could playfully scold you for looking.
It’s what she did. I knew what she was waiting for, though. This was the first night he hadn’t shown up in over a week.
I didn’t get it. This guy—the guy who tracks muddy boots through the house, the guy that smokes cigarettes in the laundry room even when she specifically tells him not to, the guy who hasn’t touched a single dirty dish in as long as he’d been there—a dirty anything for that matter, and he’s the one she swoons for? Fucking bastard. That’s all he was. A dirty fucking bastard that didn’t deserve a woman even half as lovely as my Caitlyn.
She doesn’t get it—really, she doesn’t and it makes me feel kind of sorry for her. God, I mean if she only knew the things I’d do for her—the things that we have in common. We would be so happy together. I like to read just like she does, the same genres and everything. I even picked up the book she started last week, and it’s already one of my favorites. She likes to jog; I like to jog; she likes binging shows; I like binging shows. Both of us have a horrible sweet tooth as well. I can never help but smile at the thought of that.
Now, it’s three hours past eight, which was the time that he was supposed to arrive. She’d moved to the couch and was now lying on her back, letting one leg dangle to the floor. Blue light from the TV illuminated her features in the dark of the room, and it was not difficult to tell that she was upset. God, I hate to see her cry.
Occasionally, she would glance over. She would peer out the window with that solemn face and look in my direction. At first, I thought she was trying to see over me, to look over the hedge and into the trees behind her drive. After a few of her glances, though, I wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t looking directly at me. Maybe she needed me. Perhaps this is her way of saying, “Come get me, Richard.” And what if it is? What if this was my chance, and I missed it because I thought about it too hard? Maybe she knew I’d been out here, watching all along, for all this time. If that was the case, then she surely knew that I wouldn’t be able to resist those watery eyes. It was time—time to be the man she needed—to finally confess my love for her, then hold her tight as she did the same.
I straightened myself—no more hiding. No more lurking in the shadows while she filled the void in her heart with all of these other worthless men. It was time she had a real man, a man who cared.
I walked to the door. For a second, I wondered if she’d left it unlocked for me. She’d done that before and pretended she was asleep whenever I made my way inside. She always did like to tease like that. I almost just opened it and walked straight in, but on second thought, I figured it might’ve been a little jarring. I decided to knock instead. To knock in the same sort of way that my heart was currently knocking against my eardrums. Why was I so nervous? She loved me; I knew she did, but still, I was nervous. Sweat beaded down the side of my face like condensation. I wiped it away with my sleeve and took a deep breath. This was it. In a few moments, I’d finally have my Caitlyn. I’d finally hold her in my arms like I’d always dreamed.
I brought my fist to the door, and my stomach tightened into a knot.
Just as I was about to do it, I heard gravel crunch in the distance.
Quickly, I darted back into the safety of the shadows, and I could see two bright headlights coming through the trees as they bounced down the dirt road.
It was him—the old Chevy Silverado with the silver toolbox in the back.
Of course, it had to be him.
He’d messed up this time, though; there was no way she’d forgive him now, not after tonight. With a smirk, I watched, wondering what kind of pitiful attempt he’d make to try and win her back this time, knowing that whatever it was wouldn’t be enough. Then he stepped out of his truck.
He was covered in black grease from head to foot and wore a mechanic uniform. He held something small in his arms, something with a bright red bow tied around its neck. It was hard to tell, but it looked like a little black lab from where I stood. Trustingly, it pressed its head against his chest and darted its eyes around the new scenery.
He walked up the porch steps. He was going to knock, but before he could, Caitlyn flung the door inward and glared at him. As much as I hated how she felt, that twisted expression of anger she gave him gave me more joy than I could’ve imagined. That joy was only fleeting, though. The man flashed a white smile as he looked down at his arms, rubbing the puppy’s head. It melted the expression right off of her face.
“Oh my God!” She squealed, happily shuffling her feet as she held her arms out.
I was appalled. A puppy? One dog and all of his sins are erased?
The two of them seemed so giddy together. They laughed and hugged and spoke in high voices to the puppy while they rubbed his head. The whole scene made me sick to my stomach if you really want to know the truth.
I don’t know how he did it—how he managed to weasel his way back into her heart and occupy the space that was so rightfully mine—truly, I didn’t. Who knows, maybe it was all an act. Perhaps it was her way of telling me, “you should’ve knocked.” And now, this is my punishment.
Maybe I should’ve. Maybe then I could’ve been the one to answer that door. A puppy wouldn’t soften my eyes, not like hers. I failed her, I know, but I will not fail her again. That is the last night he will ever come knocking on her door. I’m certain of it.

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
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The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

Hi friends!
I originally wanted to wait until I could see the results of my experiment, but due to this sequence of unusual events, I am standing before you here today. Recovering.
My disodium EDTA finally arrived yesterday, and I got some sodium carbonate from the drug store to up the pH levels, as Ducky Queen once pondered. (On that note, does anyone else miss our queen? I've been thinking about making a post about that.)
I got my bowl out, my distilled water, my stirring chopstick, and went to town. Quite nervous, might I add. I also got pH strips! Finally. I'm still sulking over my old ones going to the store to buy cigarettes and never returning, but we all have to move on.
After one teaspoon of EDTA, the water had a pH of about 5. Adding several more, the pH stayed at ~5. A teaspoon of soda brought it to I'd say about 6, along with a decent amount of fizzling, sizzling foam. Another tsp lifted it to 7, another two to somewhere between 7 and 8. 8 was the number I had had in mind (as EDTA works best in alkalinity), but I decided it was good enough.
I added it to my hair as I always do, and was greeted by a very familiar pain. Of citric acid. Oh, how I haven't missed thee. Even with a controlled pH level, it hurt me. This is, in my opinion, very likely influenced by my already sensitive scalp. Sigh. Oh well. I slung my veteran towel around my shoulders with my hair in a shower cap, and sat like that for three hours. During this, I kept noticing that my roots had dried. Lol. This is inexplicably funny to me. What an issue to run into! Let me tell you, I've never experienced that with citric, even when my hair was already at the stage it is now (with esp my roots drying more quickly than ever). I don't know what to make of it (and again, I wish my queen was around!), but I ended up using a spray bottle à la Sea and continually wetting my hair with it. (It dried a lot.)
Finally, washing time came, and boy was I glad. My hair felt very grainy as the EDTA hadn't dissolved all the way (apparently, it does that). Gosh there was a lot of foam. I rinsed and rinsed and it wasn't getting any less. What an odd experience to have. Reminded me of that prank where a guy in the shower kept getting shampoo squirted on his head by his mate and freaked out over not being able to wash it out.
My hair felt weird to me too. I'm used to getting a sort of dry feel with citric, as understandably it dries it out. This felt dry too, but in a different way. I can't really put it into words. The scent was something I'd describe as sterile, almost medicinal. I'm positive every single person here has smelled this before. Perhaps akin to what you might smell in a pharmacy.
I thought at some point that clearly, my shampoo efforts had not been enough, and since I didn't want to relive needing to wash my hair again when realizing it wasn't quite clean only when it was almost dry, I went in for a second shampoo.
Oh my. I shouldn't have. First, my hair felt exactly the same to me after that second shampoo. Or shall I say during, as it would. Not. Wash. Out. And there was so. Much. Foam. Somehow, one squish of shampoo did my entire head, instead of needing 4 or 5 at least. My entire head! Then, after my first rinse of shampoo #2, I found myself scooping out the foam from my bowl with my hand. I'd call that insane. And again with the experience of rinsing and rinsing, and am I really getting anywhere? Didn't feel like it. I couldn't see the bottom of my sink from all the foam, lol. I ended up using I reckon nearly 3x as much water as I normally do. Did I get all the shampoo out, at least? Uhhh... I'm pretty sure I didn't, lol. I'm used to some (air) bubbles being in my final rinse, and something that looks like skin flakes, but I'm not sure what they really are. But this time, there was (comparatively) just a lot of product left, something that didn't look like air bubbles. I just couldn't take it anymore. My neck hurt. I was exhausted. I wanted to be done already. (I'd say I got more than 90% out though. I think that's something.)
And all this took me 1h2min. When usually, I'm all done and neat and shiny within 30min. As in, often it takes me less, including making sure my bathroom is as nice and shiny as I am. Everything put in its place, the mirror wiped down, the sink clean, my bowl returned to its home. It's a nice experience for me, usually.
So yeah, these are my first impressions of disodium EDTA in my hair. I'd love to hear your thoughts and engage with you over this. Maybe Ducky will hear my cries and return, like Glinda the Good Witch when Dorothy most needed her. I hope you enjoyed reading this. I had a lot of fun writing it, so at least some good came from that fever dream that was my evening.
ETA: A couple of things!
I meant to mention that while the EDTA mixture was sitting in my hair for 3h, my scalp was itching like crazy. Not sure what that was about.
After citric, I often experienced very crunchy-feeling ends after washing it out, requiring a second wash (with shampoo) to become soft and hairlike again. This time, with EDTA and after shampooing twice, my entire bottom hair feels like that, from my shoulders to my tips. Combing it felt like combing out hairspray that's not meant to be combed out.
I cannot possibly be arsed to shampoo again right now, so I just added an imo rather large amount of MCT. I did that once before after citric (adding oil instead of actually shampooing) and I remember it being okay (maybe not great? can't remember. but livable).
My hands were very, very, very dry after washing my hair yesterday. And not the kind of dryness that would come from wateshampoo exposure. Also, my hair felt... grimy I would say? It still does. I'm talking about from my shoulders to my ends only. When trying to comb it, that grime got onto my comb, which now needs to be cleaned (as in, whatever it is doesn't just fall off). When I touch my hair, my hands feel like that too afterward.
Not sure what to make of it. I talked about product left in my hair earlier, but I was referring to the sections that weren't easy to dip into my bowl (like the back of my head). My lengths seemed clean, as in the water stayed clear when I swished them around in it and when I squeezed it out afterward.
Sigh. I don't understand it. What I do understand though is that apparently, I have a good amount of chelating ahead of me. I'll feel lucky if this just regards the lower parts of my hair, lol. I'll give it that though: EDTA does pack one hell of a punch.

My German university aspirations are nearly dead, because from what I heard you need 7.5 CGPA or more inorder to have a decent chance to get into a German Public university. my_qualifications : is 6.8 CGPA in Electronics and Communication Engineering, which would make it really hard for me to get into a Public universities.
Though the German dream is dead, I have already researched about several other European countries and is currently considering : Austria, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Netherlands, Belgium, Czech Republic, Finland, France, Italy and Latvia ( backup ).
Yeah I know that it's a lot, but this decision is of very importance to me and I'm planning on sending 25-30 applications to universities among all these countries.
Also does anyone know if the 7.5 cgpa is mainly for computer and mechanical related courses since they seem to be the most in demand, is it also similar for electronics courses ?

WELCOME! This is the Official Twice Nayeon THE 2nd Mini Album [NA] Pre-Order and General Question Megathread!

I apologize for any formatting oddities, this was made on Old Reddit using a Desktop. Mobile version does look a little wonky since the listing isn't tabbed over like the desktop version.

• Common questions can be found at the bottom.

What is the pre-order benefit?

• All Pre-orders come with a Photocard Set and poster (some shops ship it unfolded in a tube) depending on version.

What is in the album?

• Photobook (Each version has a different photobook)
• Photocards(Random 4 out of 15)
• CD-R (3 types, version specific)
• Hangtag (1 random out of 3)
• Mini Book
• Track Sticker Pack
• Postcard (1 random out of 3)
• Folded Poster (1 random out of 3)

Album Preview Limited Details

Please remember that if you want it to count towards the Billboard charts you will need to order from one of the stores listed under the USA section EXCEPT YESASIA. YESASIA COUNTS FOR HANTEO CHARTS.

USA

• Target - Random Album Ver.
  
  • Target exclusive album comes with a RANDOM additional exclusive photocard. Will include all pre-order benefits as well.
• Walmart - A Ver. Walmart - B ver. Walmart - C.
  
  • Includes all Pre-Order Benefits.
• TwiceShop - A Ver. SIGNED USA SHIPPING ONLY TwiceShop - B Ver. SIGNED USA SHIPPING ONLY TwiceShop - C Ver. SIGNED USA SHIPPING ONLY
  
  • Includes all Pre-Order Benefits. Signed Version includes a Signed Postcard.
• TwiceShop - A Ver. TwiceShop - B Ver. TwiceShop - C Ver.
  
  • Includes all Pre-Order Benefits.
• Barnes & Noble - A Ver. Barnes & Noble - B Ver. Barnes & Noble - C Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• MusicPlaza - Choose your Ver. MusicPlaza - Choose your Ver. Extra +1 POB
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• ChoiceMusicLA - Choose your Ver. ChoiceMusicLa - Choose your Ver. Extra +1 POB
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefit.
• Amazon - Official Link not up yet
  
• YesAsia North America Site - Not up on site yet.
  
• SubKShop
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• KpopMusicTownLA
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• KpopUSA
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits

CANADA

• Amazon CA
  
  • Website not updated yet via the Official Twice Store on Amazon
• LightupK
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.

GLOBAL

• Withmuu - Random Ver. Withmuu - 3 set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Ktown4u - Random Ver. Ktown4u - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Kpopmart
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Kpoptown
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• CDJapan
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• YesAsia Global Site (Excluding USA) - Website not updated yet.
  
• JYPSHOP
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Daebak - Website not updated yet
  
• Soundwave - Random Ver. Soundwave - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Musicplant - Random Ver. Musicplant - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.

KOREA

• JYPSHOP KR - Random Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Withmuu KR - Random Ver. Withmuu KR - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Ktown4u KR - Random Ver. Ktown4u KR - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Synnara - Random Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Soundwave - Random Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Aladin - Random Ver. Aladin - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Yes24 - Random Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Blue Dream Media - Random Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Musicplant KR - Random Ver. Musicplant KR - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• MusicKorea - Random Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.

JAPAN

• Once Japan Official Shop - Random Ver. Once Japan Official Shop - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Withmuu JP - Random Ver. Withmuu JP - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Neowing
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Tower Records
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• JYPSHOP JP
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Soundwave JP - Random Ver. Soundwave JP - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Musicplant JP - Random Ver. Musicplant JP - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.

CHINA

• JYPSHOP CN
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Withmuu CN - Random Ver. Withmuu CN - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Soundwave CN - Random Ver. Soundwave CN - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Musicplant CN - Random Ver. Musicplant CN - 3 Set Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.

EUROPE

• Nolae
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• J-Store Germany
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• NeoTokyo Germany
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Daebak Germany
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• imusic Denmark - Random Ver.
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Asiaworldmusic France
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Taiyou France
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• iPurple Belgium
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• SuperDragonToys Belgium
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Kpop.ro Romania
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• HMV United Kingdom - Website not updated yet
  

AUSTRALIA

• Kpoptime
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Iheartkpop
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.
• Kpopbazaar
  
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.

INDIA

• Albumnest - Choose your Ver.
  • Includes all normal inclusions and Pre-Order Benefits.

IF YOU HAVE ANY POPULAR STORES THAT YOU THINK I SHOULD ADD PLEASE DM ME OR POST IN THE THREAD AND I WILL TRY TO UPDATE IF ITS A LEGIT SOURCE. Especially other foreign shops.

Please also use this thread to ask any questions you may have regarding the album, pre-orders, or anything of the like and I as well (at least I hope) the community will try to answer the questions to the best of our abilities. I can always add a question/answer to this post if it becomes a common question as well!

Common Questions

If the signed version SOLD OUT, will it restock??

• Sometimes they do a quick restock with cancelled orders but they are usually gone very quickly. Consider checking back every so often.

The website I went to only has a "Random" version option for the album. Can I pick which version I want?

• Not usually. Most sites at least on the Korean side like Withmuu and places are usually pretty good at giving you 1 of each if you order one of each version. They tend to "try" to give you an even amount of each version if you bulk buy. For Target they were bad about giving you duplicate albums for Formula of Love so order at your own risk if you buy multiple copies. Can always go to the store and try to exchange if you get duplicates.

Over the course of the past few months I have been working on compiling a list of my 500 favorite songs. It was sort of challenge that I gave myself and I'm super pumped with how it turned out. There were a few rules (only 5 songs per artist being the big rule, among a few others), and here's the list I came up with. Thought it was fun, so wanted to share here and see if it might spark any discussion about song placement, lack of songs/artists, or see if anyone had any similar lists. All thoughts are welcome! (and if you don't care to comb through all 500 songs for your favorite song or artist I'm more than happy to help you track 'em down)

1. Trash Panda - Aging out of the 20th Century
   
2. Djo - Roddy
   
3. The Beatles - Don't Let Me Down
   
4. Snail Mail - Heat Wave
   
5. Phoebe Bridgers - Savior Complex
   
6. Joji - SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK
   
7. The Shins - The Fear
   
8. Talking Heads - This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)
   
9. The Cranberries - Linger
   
10. Post Animal - Ralphie
    
11. Hop Along - Not Abel
    
12. The Beach Boys - Heroes And Villains
    
13. Electric Light Orchestra - Livin' Thing
    
14. The Monkees - As We Go Along
    
15. Blondie - Heart Of Glass
    
16. The Strokes - Oblivius
    
17. Chet Baker - It's Always You
    
18. The Beatles - Rain
    
19. Electric Light Orchestra - Telephone Line
    
20. Husbands - Must Be a Cop
    
21. Faces - Ooh La La
    
22. The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize??
    
23. Frank Ocean - Nights
    
24. Harry James - It's Been a Long, Long Time
    
25. The Turtles - Happy Together
    
26. Etta James - At Last
    
27. The Zombies - The Way I Feel Inside
    
28. The Beatles - Here, There And Everywhere
    
29. The Beach Boys - God Only Knows
    
30. Kanye West - Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1
    
31. Briston Maroney - Sinkin'
    
32. John Lennon - Oh My Love
    
33. Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass - Ladyfingers
    
34. Squirrel Flower - Headlights
    
35. The Backseat Lovers - Maple Syrup
    
36. The B-52's - Rock Lobster
    
37. George Harrison - All Things Must Pass
    
38. Snail Mail - Ben Franklin
    
39. Laura Elliott - Grass Stains
    
40. Djo - Chateau (Feel Alright)
    
41. Tame Impala - Eventually
    
42. The Backseat Lovers - Snowbank Blues
    
43. Claude Debussy - Clair de Lune
    
44. The Weeknd - Save Your Tears
    
45. Talking Heads - Thank You for Sending Me an Angel
    
46. The Zombies - Time of the Season
    
47. The War On Drugs - Nothing to Find
    
48. Queen - Brighton Rock
    
49. The Dream Academy - Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want
    
50. The B-52's - Strobe Light
    
51. The Cranberries - Dreams
    
52. Fugees - Killing Me Softly With His Song
    
53. Molchat Doma - Тоска
    
54. Tyler, The Creator - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?
    
55. The Mamas & The Papas - Dream A Little Dream Of Me
    
56. The Chords - Sh-Boom
    
57. The Beatles - The Abbey Road Medley
    
58. The Ronettes - Be My Baby
    
59. The Who - Baba O'Riley
    
60. Dr. Dog - Where'd All the Time Go?
    
61. M83 - My Tears Are Becoming A Sea
    
62. Billie Eilish - everything i wanted
    
63. Outkast - Hey Ya!
    
64. Nat King Cole - Orange Colored Sky
    
65. The Notorious B.I.G. - Hypnotize
    
66. Four Tops - Reach Out I'll Be There
    
67. Foreign Air - Shut Up and Show Me
    
68. Leonard Cohen - So Long, Marianne
    
69. dodie - If I'm Being Honest
    
70. Briston Maroney - June
    
71. Post Malone - Sunflower
    
72. John Lennon - Isolation
    
73. Buddy Holly & The Crickets - Not Fade Away
    
74. Phoebe Bridgers - I Know The End
    
75. Kanye West - All Falls Down
    
76. Alvvays - Adult Diversion
    
77. John Lennon - Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)
    
78. Clairo - Amoeba
    
79. The Beach Boys - I Know There's An Answer
    
80. Paul McCartney - Let Me Roll It
    
81. Frank Ocean - Ivy
    
82. Radiohead - Motion Picture Soundtrack
    
83. Djo - Mutual Future (Repeat)
    
84. Phoebe Bridgers - Scott Street
    
85. Childish Gambino - Me and Your Mama
    
86. Pink Floyd - Astronomy Domine
    
87. The Pied Pipers - Dream
    
88. The Beach Boys - All I Wanna Do
    
89. Djo - Change
    
90. Второй этаж поражает - Крайности
    
91. Little Richard - Lucille
    
92. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Shanghai
    
93. Chet Baker - Deep In A Dream
    
94. The Beatles - It's All Too Much
    
95. Post Animal - Dirtpicker
    
96. The B-52's - Love Shack
    
97. EDEN - foreve/over
    
98. Kanye West - Ultralight Beam
    
99. The Zombies - Going Out Of My Head
    
100. Talking Heads - Found a Job
     
101. Snail Mail - Pristine
     
102. Tom Tom Club - Genius of Love
     
103. Tears For Fears - Everybody Wants To Rule The World
     
104. WILLIS - I Think I Like When It Rains
     
105. Chet Baker - But Not For Me
     
106. Naked Eyes - Always Something There to Remind Me
     
107. Tyler, The Creator - GONE, GONE / THANK YOU
     
108. Djo - Half Life
     
109. Trash Panda - Check Please
     
110. Briston Maroney - Deep Sea Diver
     
111. Beach Fossils - This Year
     
112. Momma - Medicine
     
113. Hop Along - Prior Things
     
114. Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
     
115. Electric Light Orchestra - Turn to Stone
     
116. Briston Maroney - It's Not My Fault
     
117. Tyler, The Creator - NEW MAGIC WAND
     
118. Snail Mail - Headlock
     
119. Phil Collins - Take Me Home
     
120. Gotye - Somebody That I Used To Know
     
121. The Beach Boys - Do It Again
     
122. Tame Impala - Breathe Deeper
     
123. Ella Fitzgerald - Misty
     
124. Phoebe Bridgers - Waiting Room
     
125. Kanye West - Runaway
     
126. Daft Punk - Get Lucky (feat. Pharrell Williams and Nile Rodgers)
     
127. Dire Straits - Money for Nothing
     
128. Kendrick Lamar - Alright
     
129. Black Country, New Road - Concorde
     
130. George Harrison - If Not for You
     
131. Harry Styles - Cherry
     
132. Ms. Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (That Thing)
     
133. Paul McCartney - Junk
     
134. Wings - Maybe I'm Amazed [Live]
     
135. Talking Heads - Houses in Motion
     
136. Del Water Gap - Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat
     
137. Pixies - Where Is My Mind?
     
138. Queen - Seven Seas Of Rhye
     
139. Paul McCartney - Jet
     
140. Sufjan Stevens - Death with Dignity
     
141. A Flock Of Seagulls - I Ran (So Far Away)
     
142. Tame Impala - Let It Happen
     
143. Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love
     
144. Clairo - Management
     
145. Tommy James & The Shondells - I Think We're Alone Now
     
146. Fergie - Clumsy
     
147. Childish Gambino - This Is America
     
148. Prefab Sprout - The King of Rock 'N' Roll
     
149. Joy Again - Looking Out for You
     
150. Beach House - Space Song
     
151. John Lennon - Mind Games
     
152. The Weeknd - Gasoline
     
153. Weezer - Buddy Holly
     
154. Phoebe Bridgers - Sidelines
     
155. Tame Impala - New Person, Same Old Mistakes
     
156. Lana Del Rey - A&W
     
157. The Dillards - I've Just Seen a Face
     
158. The Doors - Break on Through (To the Other Side)
     
159. Julie London - I'm Glad There Is You
     
160. 2Pac - California Love
     
161. Dean Martin - Everybody Loves Somebody
     
162. Snail Mail - Anytime
     
163. The Strokes - The Adults Are Talking
     
164. Jordana, TV Girl - Better in the Dark
     
165. Juice WRLD - Hide (feat. Seezyn)
     
166. The Wild Reeds - Get Better
     
167. Finom - Mine
     
168. Hop Along - One That Suits Me
     
169. The Killers - Mr. Brightside
     
170. Michael Cera - Clay Pigeons
     
171. Clairo - Bags
     
172. Prince - Let's Go Crazy
     
173. The Zombies - She's Not There
     
174. Blackstreet - No Diggity
     
175. Frank Sinatra - I've Got You Under My Skin
     
176. John Denver - Take Me Home, Country Roads
     
177. Harry James - I'm Beginning to See The Light
     
178. The Clash - London Calling
     
179. Charles Bradley - Changes
     
180. Buddy Holly - (Ummmm, Oh Yeah) Dearest
     
181. Eagles - Seven Bridges Road [Live]
     
182. Moxie - Honey
     
183. Faces - Stay with Me
     
184. Post Animal - How Do You Feel
     
185. New Order - Age of Consent
     
186. Natalie Imbruglia - Torn
     
187. Lana Del Rey - Doin' Time
     
188. Twin Peaks - Blue Coupe
     
189. Kanye West - Gold Digger
     
190. Fruit Bats - The Bottom of It
     
191. Frank Sinatra - Somethin' Stupid
     
192. Lorde - Perfect Places
     
193. Martha Tilton - Exactly Like You
     
194. King Crimson - 21st Century Schizoid Man
     
195. Glen Campbell - Southern Nights
     
196. Claire Rosinkranz - Frankenstein
     
197. Guillemots - Made-Up Lovesong #43
     
198. Fleetwood Mac - Say You Love Me
     
199. Frankie Valli - Can't Take My Eyes off You
     
200. The Crickets - Don't Ever Change
     
201. Paul Anka - Put Your Head On My Shoulder
     
202. George Harrison - Isn't It a Pity
     
203. Trash Panda - Off
     
204. Super Besse - Holod
     
205. Beyoncé - Hold Up
     
206. Charlie Burg - I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You
     
207. Eagles - Peaceful Easy Feeling
     
208. Ella Fitzgerald - It's A Lovely Day Today
     
209. PERMSKY KRAY - Дорогой Человек
     
210. The Little Dippers - Forever
     
211. The B-52's - There's a Moon in the Sky (Called the Moon)
     
212. Patti Page - Old Cape Cod
     
213. Daft Punk - Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
     
214. The Soggy Bottom Boys - I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow
     
215. Trash Panda - Things Will Never Change
     
216. Hop Along - Well-dressed
     
217. Sixpence None The Richer - Kiss Me
     
218. TV Girl - Daughter of a Cop
     
219. LAUNDRY DAY - Jane
     
220. Tyler, The Creator - EARFQUAKE
     
221. Sigue Sigue Sputnik - Love Missile F1-11
     
222. Joji - Gimme Love
     
223. The Backseat Lovers - Pool House
     
224. The Weeknd - Take My Breath
     
225. Mild High Club - Homage
     
226. Doc Watson - Am I Born to Die?
     
227. Daniel Caesar - Streetcar
     
228. The Kinks - Sunny Afternoon
     
229. John Lennon - #9 Dream
     
230. Tame Impala - Elephant
     
231. Chuck Berry - You Never Can Tell
     
232. Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here
     
233. KIDS SEE GHOSTS - 4th Dimension
     
234. Soft Cell - Tainted Love
     
235. The B-52's - Song for a Future Generation
     
236. Gnarls Barkley - Crazy
     
237. Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans
     
238. Billie Eilish - Halley's Comet
     
239. Glenn Miller - In the Mood
     
240. Kid Bloom - Control
     
241. The Cinematic Orchestra - To Build A Home
     
242. Marvin Gaye - I Heard It Through The Grapevine
     
243. Brenda Lee - If You Love Me (Really Love Me)
     
244. TV Girl - Lovers Rock
     
245. Art Lown - Knew You Well
     
246. Dean Martin - Ain't That A Kick In The Head
     
247. Miniature Tigers - Like or Like Like
     
248. Electric Light Orchestra - Sweet Talkin' Woman
     
249. The Hunts - Ages
     
250. The Cars - Good Times Roll
     
251. Bill Withers - Lovely Day
     
252. Drake - God's Plan
     
253. Kansas - Point of Know Return
     
254. The Neighbourhood - Stargazing
     
255. The Clash - Rock the Casbah
     
256. Hop Along - What the Writer Meant
     
257. Briston Maroney - Under My Skin
     
258. Jack Stauber - Buttercup
     
259. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Ya Love
     
260. Ginger Root - Loretta
     
261. Thompson Twins - Hold Me Now
     
262. Frank Ocean - Pyramids
     
263. Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)
     
264. Destroy Boys - I Threw Glass at My Friend's Eyes and Now I'm on Probation
     
265. Mild High Club - Dionysian State
     
266. Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out
     
267. Kevin Abstract - Empty
     
268. The Frights - Crust Bucket
     
269. Stealers Wheel - Stuck In The Middle With You
     
270. The Shins - Fighting in a Sack
     
271. fun. - We Are Young (feat. Janelle Monáe)
     
272. Lil Uzi Vert - Money Longer
     
273. Miniature Tigers - Cannibal Queen
     
274. The Doors - Touch Me
     
275. Jean Dawson - Clear Bones
     
276. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Catching Smoke
     
277. Molchat Doma - Люди Надоели
     
278. The Go-Go's - Our Lips Are Sealed
     
279. Billie Eilish - ocean eyes
     
280. BOYO - Crown
     
281. The 1975 - Somebody Else
     
282. Husbands - She's a Betty
     
283. Syd Barrett - If It's In You
     
284. Trash Panda - Atlanta Girls
     
285. Frank Ocean - Godspeed
     
286. Alice Phoebe Lou - Glow
     
287. Childish Gambino - Redbone
     
288. New Order - Blue Monday
     
289. Post Animal - Schedule
     
290. Harry Styles - Fine Line
     
291. Harry James - I'll Get By (As Long As I Have You)
     
292. Depeche Mode - Never Let Me Down Again
     
293. Chet Baker - I Fall In Love Too Easily
     
294. The Cranberries - Put Me Down
     
295. John Mayer - Edge of Desire
     
296. George Harrison - All Those Years Ago
     
297. Electric Light Orchestra - The Diary of Horace Wimp
     
298. Alex Clare - Too Close
     
299. Eric B. & Rakim - Know The Ledge
     
300. Peter Frampton - Show Me The Way [Live]
     
301. Simon & Garfunkel - Mrs. Robinson
     
302. Black Eyes - Deformative
     
303. The Righteous Brothers - Unchained Melody
     
304. Bonny Light Horseman - Deep In Love
     
305. The Walker Brothers - The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore
     
306. Cage The Elephant - Cigarette Daydreams
     
307. Hot Flash Heat Wave - Raindrop
     
308. Clairo - Sofia
     
309. Kendrick Lamar - PRIDE.
     
310. Camille Saint-Saëns - The Swan
     
311. Weezer - Say It Ain't So
     
312. C418 - Sweden
     
313. Lana Del Rey - Let The Light In (feat. Father John Misty)
     
314. The Postal Service - Such Great Heights
     
315. Pickin' On Series - Those to Come
     
316. Lana Del Rey - Grandfather please stand on the shoulders of my father while he's deep-sea fishing (feat. RIOPY)
     
317. John Mayer - Moving On and Getting Over
     
318. Field Medic - POWERFUL LOVE
     
319. Cage The Elephant - Flow
     
320. Joji - Run
     
321. The Who - Won't Get Fooled Again
     
322. Boston - Peace of Mind
     
323. Ben E. King - This Magic Moment
     
324. David Bowie - Starman
     
325. Beastie Boys - Sabotage
     
326. Harry Belafonte - Banana Boat (Day-O)
     
327. Gene Krupa & His Orchestra - Rhumboogie
     
328. The Cardigans - Lovefool
     
329. The Kinks - You Really Got Me
     
330. The Zombies - She's Coming Home
     
331. Michael Jackson - Thriller
     
332. Moxie - Blue Skies
     
333. The Mamas & The Papas - Straight Shooter
     
334. Peter, Paul and Mary - Don't Think Twice, It's All Right
     
335. Green Day - Brain Stew
     
336. Dua Lipa - Levitating (feat. DaBaby)
     
337. The Police - Roxanne
     
338. Britney Spears - Toxic
     
339. Tears For Fears - Head Over Heels
     
340. Rex Orange County - Pluto Projector
     
341. The Strokes - Call It Fate, Call It Karma
     
342. Portugal. The Man - Feel It Still
     
343. The Black Crowes - Twice As Hard
     
344. Ted Nugent - Stranglehold
     
345. fun. - Some Nights
     
346. Wings - Silly Love Songs
     
347. Paramore - Still into You
     
348. Peter Frampton - Baby, I Love Your Way [Live]
     
349. The Monkees - Last Train to Clarksville
     
350. Royel Otis - Oysters In My Pocket
     
351. The Backseat Lovers - Growing/Dying
     
352. Nelly Furtado - Say It Right
     
353. Post Animal - Goggles
     
354. Erik Satie - Gymnopédie No. 1
     
355. Childish Gambino - IV. Sweatpants
     
356. Steely Dan - Dirty Work
     
357. ABBA - Lay All Your Love On Me
     
358. Still Woozy - Goodie Bag
     
359. Arlo Parks - Black Dog
     
360. Goth Babe - Weekend Friend
     
361. George & the Handsomes - Sleepy Beats
     
362. boygenius - 20
     
363. The Mills Brothers - You Always Hurt The One You Love
     
364. Travis Scott - SICKO MODE
     
365. Pinegrove - Need 2
     
366. The Backseat Lovers - Sinking Ship
     
367. Franz Schubert - Ave Maria
     
368. Zac Brown Band - Knee Deep (feat. Jimmy Buffett)
     
369. Justin Timberlake - Mirrors
     
370. Simon & Garfunkel - Cecilia
     
371. The Cranberries - Zombie
     
372. Daniel Caesar - Japanese Denim
     
373. Billie Holiday - Easy Living
     
374. ISLAND - By Your Side
     
375. Phil Collins - Tomorrow Never Knows
     
376. Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-Changin'
     
377. The Four Freshmen - Day By Day
     
378. Fleetwood Mac - The Chain
     
379. Billy Joel - Big Shot
     
380. Billie Eilish - Happier Than Ever
     
381. Yot Club - down bad
     
382. Rihanna - Stay
     
383. Fleetwood Mac - Landslide
     
384. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act 2: No. 10, Scene. Moderato
     
385. The White Stripes - Fell In Love With a Girl
     
386. Alvvays - Easy On Your Own?
     
387. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - If We Were Vampires
     
388. Blackway - What's Up Danger (with Black Caviar)
     
389. Albert Hammond - It Never Rains in Southern California
     
390. Matt Maltese - Jupiter
     
391. John Denver - Mother Nature's Son
     
392. Childish Gambino - Sober
     
393. Claire Rosinkranz - Pools and Palm Trees
     
394. The Cars - Just What I Needed
     
395. The Doors - Light My Fire
     
396. Blondie - Tomorrow Never Knows
     
397. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Hell's Itch
     
398. The Japanese House - Saw You In A Dream
     
399. Franz Schubert - String Quartet No. 13 in A Minor, Op. 29 No. 1, D. 804
     
400. The Drifters - White Christmas
     
401. The 1975 - Robbers
     
402. George Harrison - Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea
     
403. The Frights - Tongues
     
404. Paramore - Ain't It Fun
     
405. Billy Joel - Pressure
     
406. Frank Sinatra - My Way
     
407. Art Lown - Going Back to Carolina
     
408. Bruno Mars - Just the Way You Are
     
409. Under The Rug - Lonesome & Mad
     
410. The Mamas & The Papas - Dedicated To The One I Love
     
411. Foster The People - Sit Next to Me
     
412. Weezer - Undone - The Sweater Song
     
413. Michael Jackson - Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'
     
414. Tia Blake - Plastic Jesus
     
415. Los Bravos - Bring a Little Lovin'
     
416. Lady Gaga - Bad Romance
     
417. Minnie Riperton - Les Fleurs
     
418. Billy Idol - Dancing with Myself
     
419. Cody Fry - I Hear a Symphony
     
420. Gringo Sapiens - Driver's Licence
     
421. Vacations - Relax
     
422. Glitter Party - time waits
     
423. Steve Lacy - Bad Habit
     
424. The Crystals - Then He Kissed Me
     
425. The Pied Pipers - Mairzy Doats
     
426. Mitski - Bug Like an Angel
     
427. James Ray - I've Got My Mind Set On You
     
428. Clairo - Bubble Gum
     
429. Masayoshi Takanaka - SEXY DANCE
     
430. Nat King Cole - (I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons
     
431. Sleigh Bells - Crown On the Ground
     
432. Olivia Rodrigo - favorite crime
     
433. No Doubt - Just A Girl
     
434. Foreigner - Long, Long Way from Home
     
435. Heart - Crazy On You
     
436. The Hunts - Darlin'
     
437. David Bowie - Heroes
     
438. Alice Phoebe Lou - Hammer
     
439. Thee Oh Sees - Toe Cutter - Thumb Buster
     
440. Roar - I Can't Handle Change
     
441. TV Girl - Birds Dont Sing
     
442. Laufey - From The Start
     
443. Chas McDevitt Skiffle Group - Freight Train (feat. Nancy Whiskey)
     
444. Metro Boomin - Am I Dreaming
     
445. Liana Flores - rises the moon
     
446. POP ETC - Speak Up
     
447. Jean Knight - Mr. Big Stuff
     
448. The Platters - Twilight Time
     
449. Derek & The Dominos - Layla
     
450. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Homeless Man in Adidas
     
451. Charlie Burg - Lovesong (The Way)
     
452. Hot Flash Heat Wave - Gutter Girl
     
453. ABBA - Fernando
     
454. Mitski - My Love Mine All Mine
     
455. Savannah Conley - More Than Fine
     
456. Young the Giant - Mind Over Matter
     
457. Future Crib - Yer Movin'
     
458. Bob Dylan - Like a Rolling Stone
     
459. benches - Violent
     
460. Musical Youth - Pass The Dutchie
     
461. Olivia Rodrigo - vampire
     
462. Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone - City Of Stars
     
463. Maya Hawke - Thérèse
     
464. Current Joys - A Different Age
     
465. Wayne Newton - Danke Schoen
     
466. La Roux - Bulletproof
     
467. Jason Segel, Walter - Man Or Muppet
     
468. U2 - I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
     
469. The Raconteurs - Steady, As She Goes
     
470. The Ink Spots - Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall
     
471. Ace of Base - The Sign
     
472. Vulfpeck - 1612
     
473. Nordista Freeze - Hey GiGi
     
474. The Chainsmokers - New York City
     
475. Suki Waterhouse - Johanna
     
476. Pete Rodriguez - I Like It Like That
     
477. Calvin Harris - Summer
     
478. The Rare Occasions - Notion
     
479. a-ha - Take on Me
     
480. Rush - Working Man
     
481. Traffic - Dear Mr. Fantasy
     
482. Starbuck - Moonlight Feels Right
     
483. Van Halen - Drop Dead Legs
     
484. The Troggs - Wild Thing
     
485. Led Zeppelin - Good Times Bad Times
     
486. The Byrds - Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)
     
487. Cream - Sunshine Of Your Love
     
488. Justin Timberlake - SexyBack (feat. Timbaland)
     
489. David Bowie - Suffragette City
     
490. Ludwig van Beethoven - Sonata No. 14 in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 27, No. 2 "Moonlight"
     
491. Avicii - Wake Me Up
     
492. The Who - La-La-La-Lies
     
493. The Spinners - The Rubberband Man
     
494. MGMT - Time to Pretend
     
495. Hootie & The Blowfish - Only Wanna Be With You
     
496. Sheck Wes - Mo Bamba
     
497. Claire Rosinkranz - 123
     
498. Ringo Starr - Photograph
     
499. The Proclaimers - I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)
     
500. Duran Duran - Rio
     

Just seeing if anyone has a similar story or experience since I’m tripping out a bit. It’s been 4 weeks cold turkey, smoked 3-7 cigarettes a day for 15 years. Mentally I feel 100% but physically I’m experiencing

• intense insomnia, can fall asleep but wake up almost hourly and most of the time can’t fall back asleep after 3 AM
• waking up with my heart racing
• tight chest feeling always later in the day (feeling like I have to take deep breaths)
• also side note I have quit smoking weed simultaneously which I smoked daily

During the morning and mid day I seem relatively fine. Night time has been an absolute nightmare and funny enough my dreams are quite literally vivid exhausting nightmares as well. 😞 so hoping it ends soon.

Reflecting on 2021, truly marked the zenith of my young career. The pandemic was coming to an end, I was fresh from the hallowed halls of a prestigious but unheralded college, thrust into the corporate labyrinth where, as a mere sidekick to the big shots, I contributed to a deal of record-breaking magnitude. My modest corporate minion life was exaggerated into legend by my professors during an alumni reunion, leading to a rather embarrassing episode where I was paraded around as the poster child of their education career’s success. My parents, not ones to shy away from a bit of pomp, lauded my achievements to anyone within earshot.
But as 2022 unfurled its chaos with the epidemic, my professional life spiralled downwards as swiftly as it had risen. I was laid off, and replaced by a nepotistic hire—my boss's new mistress's nephew. During my dismal final days, my colleagues, once comrades became corporate sharks, whispers of them scheming to claim my last efforts as their own filled the empty office spaces.
Compelled by financial duress to abandon my central city dwelling, I relocated to the outskirts with two college mates, Jaz and Kath, who had similarly found themselves victims of the economic downturn. We settled into apartment 606, a unit with dubious charm, suspiciously affordable on the 13th floor of a dreary building, its corridor haunted by a flickering sensor light that was only designed to function on rare occasions. Yet, the apartment itself was surprisingly very well furnished, almost like something that jumped out from a design mag, out beating sample rooms in Ikea, boasting a spacious balcony, a living room ready for an impromptu soirée, a dining table that’s good enough to hold a banquet(became our co-working space) and a kitchen isle that became our sanctuary and curse.
When we first settled into our new abode, we discovered a trove of fine kitchen utensils, perfect for whipping up sophisticated cuisine and crafting cocktails worthy of a swanky soirée. Tucked away in the fridge, among the remnants of the previous tenants' life, was a quaint note: “The three of us really enjoyed our stay here, especially our meals and nights spent by the kitchen island. We hope you find as much joy in it as we did. Use it well.” With a casual flick of my wrist, I dismissed the note into the garbage can, oblivious to the depth of its seemingly innocuous message. Little did I know, that piece of paper was more a passing of the torch than a simple goodbye.
Our initial days in apartment 606 brimmed with camaraderie and impromptu celebrations: movie nights sprawled on the living room sofas, barbeque dinners under the stars on our balcony, and co-working sessions at the dining table, peppered with resume tweaks and contemplative conversations over cocktails. We even scored a second-hand karaoke machine, allowing me to channel my inner diva—a throwback to my musical theatre days in college and my stint as the voice of corporate presentations and negotiations at my previous job, where I was known for my resonant yet finely tuned voice.
Yet, as the months wore on and the job market remained unyielding, our early merriment slowly surrendered to a creeping anxiety. The kitchen island, once the heart of our home where laughter and shared meals flowed freely, gradually morphed into the epicenter of our collective unease, bearing silent witness to the quiet desperation settling over us.
One evening, in the suspiciously affordable yet stylish apartment, I sank into the sofa, my spirits dampened by my favorite team's disheartening loss. The mood was grim, mirroring my fears of my beloved player's potential retirement at season's end. Later, as we congregated around the kitchen island for dinner, I transformed into an impromptu sports commentator, passionately preaching about the game’s disappointing details that led to failure and my favorite player’s fine qualities. Meanwhile, Jaz updated us on a friend's melodramatic breakup, with guesses that something ugly must have happened behind the scenes. Kath, ever the culinary enthusiast, not only served up her delicious pasta but also dished out the latest celebrity gossip, each tidbit as spicy as her sauce.
The next day, during a late breakfast at the same kitchen island—our unwitting oracle—we were hit by a triple whammy of reality checks. The news of my favorite player's retirement broke, echoing my gloomy predictions from the night before. Jaz chimed in with an update that our friend had uncovered a cheating scandal worthy of its own reality TV special. And Kath, never one to be left out of the drama: her favorite celebrity was now the star of a scandal.
By the third morning, as we sipped our coffee, the newspaper slapped me with another bizarre twist. I was going through the devastating economics and politics sections, then I saw the sports section——featured an irate coach, hell-bent on convincing my favorite player to dismiss retirement plans and keep his jersey on a little longer. Meanwhile, Jaz had good news for a change: it turned out our friend's love story might have a second act after all, as misunderstandings were being cleared up. Amidst these revelations, Kath, who had been grumbling about the nearby supermarket’s inability to stock anything remotely gourmet, and hadn’t had a taste of her favorite Blue Mountain coffee since the beginning of that year, triumphantly found a can of Blue Mountain coffee, and it was on sale and therefore affordable—proof that miracles happen, and sometimes they even go on discount.
As I sat there, absorbing the serendipity of our discussions manifesting into real-world events, I couldn't help but marvel at the mysterious knack of our kitchen island. Was it merely a coincidence, or had this stylish piece of decor become the unlikely conductor of our lives symphony? One thing was certain: life in apartment 606 was never dull, and our kitchen island seemed to be more than just a place to eat—it was a place where, apparently, you could stir the pot of fate.
I decided to conduct a whimsical experiment with our now seemingly magical kitchen island. Clearing my throat theatrically, I declared, "I should be interviewed for a director position." To my sheer astonishment, the next day a headhunter rang me up, claiming I was the ideal candidate for a directorial role at a prestigious corporation in my field. Despite the other candidates possessing decades more experience which defeated me with no effort, and my own lingering self-doubt from months of unemployment, I sailed to the final interview round with the company's executives.
Upon returning to our apartment, I found Kath flaunting a chic dress from a designer brand brand she’d snagged on clearance—a little luxury courtesy of our wish-granting island. Inspired, I approached the island and cheekily requested, "Get us jobs. Something fun." Lo and behold, the following day was spent lounging and binge-watching Netflix, only to be interrupted by a call from a former bigwig at my old job. He was venturing into a more illustrious company and wanted me onboard. The informal chat that followed was a breeze, and just like that, I was back in the game with a fancier title and a fatter paycheck.
The subsequent week was a flurry of celebrations. Jaz secured a senior-level position, and Kath landed her dream job at an influencer management agency. Feeling triumphant, we decided to indulge in a night of fine dining—our first in months. That Friday evening when I went from office to restaurant, on a whim, stopped at a convenience store to grab snacks and cigarettes for our post-dinner revelry. Outside, I encountered a homeless person. After offering him a sandwich (which he traded for a cigarette instead), he took a drag, peered into my eyes, and ominously muttered, “Look, young lady, this isn’t my business, but be wary of what you wish for; everything comes with a price. Good luck and god bless you.”
His words barely registered until later that evening when a mishap occurred that seemed to underline his warning. As we enjoyed syphon coffee post-dinner, a barista accidentally tripped over Kath’s flowing dress. The resulting spill left her with first-degree burns, abruptly ending our night as we rushed to the emergency room. Though it was "just" a first-degree burn, the pain was significant enough to require several days off for Kath’s recovery. Amid the drama, I couldn't help but wonder about the cryptic caution from the man outside the store—had our fortunate streak come with a hidden cost?
We chalked up the coffee calamity to bad luck. The next month flowed smoothly: Kath's fingers healed, she returned to work, and I quickly found my groove at the new job. With all of us gainfully employed, our communal meals at the kitchen island became rare. My mornings were a whirlwind of grabbing breakfast and coffee on the go, followed by an hour's commute to a job that had me scarfing down instant noodles by nightfall, just in time for a quick shower.
As the busy season kicked in, my workload ballooned—not just from the seasonal uptick, but because I was hell-bent on proving my mettle. I quickly outshone most of my peers, and my employer, recognizing a budding overachiever, piled on major tasks, which I eagerly accepted. What started as the occasional hour of overtime soon devoured my weekends. Unpaid overtime, as the fine print in my contract gleefully noted, became my new norm. Driven by a mix of ambition and expectation, I had become the go-to young hotshot, the erstwhile record-breaker now expected to continually outdo myself.
Mentally, I was too swamped to entertain thoughts of anything beyond work, which, in a twisted way, felt like a break. Physically, however, the strain began to show. A bout of flu caught on a business trip escalated into a fever. Sick as I was, deadlines waited for no one, and I soldiered on medicated and miserable. By the time I made it home, my voice had abandoned me. Unable to utter a word the next morning, I resorted to emailing my manager about my sorry state.
That week, robbed of my voice, I mused that it was perhaps a well-deserved hiatus for my overworked vocal cords—a silent retreat if you will. But when my voice did return, it was as a raspy whisper, a shadow of its former crisp and melodious timbre. My doctor offered a grim prognosis: slight improvement might come, but the golden tones were gone for good—scarred by the relentless grind. Ah, the price of ambition—a scratchy throat as a permanent reminder of my corporate conquests.
It seemed I had unwittingly exchanged the clarity of my voice for the tumult of career success. In the midst of our domestic enchantment with the possibly mystical kitchen island, Kath unearthed the contact of a reputed psychic, hailed as the finest in the land. However, the consultation fee was nothing short of princely, and with Jaz vehemently dismissing anything that couldn't be explained by cold, hard science, she promptly opted out of splitting the bill. Kath and I, unwilling to drain our wallets on what could be mere phantasmagoria, reluctantly let the opportunity pass.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice a curious change in Jaz’s routine. She had ceased dining at the kitchen island, avoiding it as if it were cursed—or perhaps, in her view, simply out of style. The Saturday morning brought a particularly harsh twist: a murder of crows took to spiralling above our balcony, their cries as sharp as the plot of a Poe novel. We found ourselves drawn to the infamous kitchen island, lined up like the cast of a macabre play, silently praying for the birds to disperse. Kath, ever trying to restore some semblance of normalcy, offered up cups of Blue Mountain coffee. She absentmindedly inquired if I wanted cream or sugar in mine—a blunder that made me realize just how long it had been since our last coffee klatch at this very spot. My inner monologue couldn't resist a dark wish for the crows to scatter, perhaps too dark, for they began to dive bomb our balcony in a feathery kamikaze. The spectacle was enough to knock Jaz off her feet—literally—as her mug met its end on the floor. Kath, meanwhile, made a hasty retreat to worship the porcelain god, and I sat frozen, my brain offline, pondering the twisted power of our kitchen island's apparent wish-granting.
After the unnerving spectacle of crows turning our balcony into a scene straight out of a Hitchcock film, our first rational step—post-collective fainting, of course—was to summon cleaners to manage the feathery carnage. Then, still rattled but increasingly curious, we visited a psychic, who, contrary to the crystal-ball-gazer image, operated out of a posh boutique in a high-end mall and dressed more like she was headed to a fashion show than a séance. We laid bare our saga of the seemingly cursed kitchen island, complete with photographic evidence of where domestic bliss meets eerie phenomena.
The psychic introduced a term that chilled the air around us: “limbo,” the threshold between our world and the otherworldly, and she dubbed our kitchen island the "Devil’s Bargain Counter." According to her, our wishes came with a heavy and unpredictable price, because we have accidentally started trades with beings from the netherworld. Her advice was disarmingly simple: cease all trades on the island. To address the repercussions of past wishes, she advised us the first line of defence, which was an eclectic mix of offerings laid out on our cursed countertop: raw meat(rooster works the best), a cocktail of spices(coca and cinnamon preferably), liberal splashes of spirits(whiskey and rum ideally), and an eerie bouquet of black flowers(luckily I found some black roses at a flower shop of the mall). In a grander gesture of appeasement, Kath relinquished her shiny new diamond bracelet, Jaz her absurdly expensive headphones, and I parted with cash—— a hefty slice of my bonus in hopes of placating whatever capricious spirits we'd angered.
Our return to normalcy was brief but sweet, prompting us to plan a getaway, eager to forget about our nefarious kitchen island. Yet, the respite was merely a tease. Jaz, in a stroke of spectacular misfortune, narrowly dodged disaster twice in one day—first nearly becoming subway track fodder on her way back after work, and then almost getting knocked out by a rogue plant at our apartment building’s doorstep. Clearly, our previous offerings were mere appetizers to whatever forces we'd stirred. The psychic, summoned once again to our now-dubious sanctuary, decreed that the spirits had developed rather expensive tastes, unsatisfied by our initial gestures.
In a desperate bid for closure, we had the psychic over for a nighttime ritual, timed perfectly with Earth's closest approach to the netherworld, according to her. Our living room turned into a ritual chamber, with windows blacked out for days, to keep the otherworldly dealings strictly nocturnal. That night, we arranged ourselves around the island, now less a kitchen fixture and more an altar of last resort.
The psychic, amidst a chorus of Latin incantations, directed us through a chilling séance that included a mirror that reflected nothing but darkness and a burning black candle, the three of us sat in a row, joined hands, eyes closed. When the black candle was flickering at its last, the first eerie scratches heard prompted our eyes to open prematurely, we saw a command appear on the island, written by invisible hand and pen, in blood-red script, urging us to find the next "succeeder" before our lease on otherworldly disturbances could be terminated.
With bated breath, we agreed, and as if by magic, our signatures materialized on the countertop, then faded as the candle sputtered out. We tore off the black cardboard taped on the windows at dawn, the sunrise revealed a final message etched into the surface: "Debt cleared." As the daylight grew, the ominous inscription dissolved into nothingness, signalling the end of our spectral saga.
The ordeal, now officially behind us, left us enjoying a semblance of normalcy: life in 606 returned to its mundane rhythm, with dinners and movie nights back on our social calendar. Though not without its scars—literal and figurative.
It’s been two years since then, Jaz, in the throes of romantic bliss, is now gearing up for a new chapter waiting to be written alongside her soon-to-be spouse; Kath, her career finally taking a lucrative turn, was poised to upgrade her living situation, she secured a lease on a lavish serviced apartment in the city center—a place that matched her newfound financial swagger.
I’m not without my own leaps forward. With a modest boost from my parents, I took the plunge into homeownership, snagging a property within the city’s vibrant confines. The process was a whirlwind of paperwork and decorating decisions, culminating in a space I could truly call my own.
As we are packing up now, my last act is to type out our story, at the infamous island, and of course, I left a note in the fridge for the next tenants:
"Welcome to 606. We had a wonderful time here, especially at the kitchen island, filled with joy and unforgettable moments. We hope you find as much happiness as we did. Use the isle well. Warm wishes, the previous tenants."

My fiancée and I are in the exciting stages of planning our dream wedding and could really use some advice. I'm currently living in Belgium, and my fiancée is Dominican. After much debate between the Dominican Republic and Europe, we've decided on Italy because we both absolutely adore Italian culture and aesthetics.
We're aiming for a small, luxurious, one-day wedding in late September or early October with around 40 guests. Our budget is between $50,000 and $70,000, and we're looking for the best hospitality Italy has to offer. Please note that we're not planning to pay for our guests' accommodation.
So far, we've checked some top hotels:

• Pasalaqua
• Grand Hotel Tremezzo
• Mandarin Oriental Como
• Rosewood Castiglion del Bosco

While these hotels are stunning, we're also open to villas that offer the same level of luxury and service. We're not tied to any specific region, so we'd love suggestions from all over Italy.
We are particularly interested in top-class restaurants and hotels with outstanding service. We want our guests to have an unforgettable experience with exceptional food, beautiful surroundings, and impeccable hospitality.
We'd appreciate any recommendations for potential wedding venues that fit our criteria. Also, any tips on making a small wedding feel grand and luxurious would be fantastic!
Thanks so much for your help!

Gonna preface this by saying we are both dating for marriage in the next 6 months, she is perfect in everyway for me, imagine the person of your dreams, now that's her. Her work is very stressful shes an emergency hospital nurse in a rough part of town working 12 hour shifts from 3pm-3am
We've been talking for about 2 months now with very little physical intimacy so things don't lead to sex. We talked about how we both USED to smoke, well Yesterday while laying on the couch together we kissed for the first time and thats when I tasted weed/cigarettes. I asked her about it and she acted dumb until she eventually confessed that she smokes about 3 times a week after her shifts at the hospital. The fact that I was with her 2 days straight before kissing her tells me she probably smokes more than that but who knows. The reason she kept it from me is because she planned on quitting the habit once we got married because I would allow her to work a less stressful schedule and location. Personally I'm not a fan of habitual smoking, once in a while doesn't bother me but multiple times a week can be worrisome also I don't like the smell/taste of it from her mouth. Should I just trust that she will give it up?
I completely understand why she smokes and told her to do whatever keeps her sane, but once her life does get easier I expect her to quit which she planned on doing before I found out. Now the question is should I trust that?
One more thing to mention she divorced her ex for drinking, smoking, and doing hard drugs but after she started this job she started smoking to cope with the stress with intentions of giving it up once her life normalized.

SABOTAGE?! And it all started out as such a nice idea… A cliche as tall as my ex-roommate’s erection live-blending Kelly Bundy Mike Kelley and Ted Bundy parafernalia wearing blondes to the sound of gekko’s mating in the Amazon. Cut the bullshit! There’s no such thing as a nice idea getting detourné by some smart art postpostsituationist pranker or right-wing gaswhitey flexfrat, no, my dear well-meaning peace dove friends, if an idea can gets turned into its opposite during its execution, it probably was flawed from the start! Sometimes people use Woodstock 99 - the limp dickshit rape and pillage slash and burn disaster edition - as an example of how a great, positive, wonderful, hell, holy idea can turn into the worst kind of evil in the hands of the wrong people. Well, dear naivopino’s, let me inform you: bull-shit! The whole idea of Woodstock, be it ’99, ’94, ’69 or 2219, is just batshit dumbwhat asking for the baddest kind of trouble right from the bat. Or, what? Do you honest-to-dogly think that during the original (I retrovulsely puke into my stomach even using that wretched word) edition of 1969 nothing was burned, stolen, no women were raped? What, just because there were no sperm dna tests, nigh to none options for women to speak up against sexual violence let alone the fact that speaking up against rape during that whole shitshebang of a weak acid trip’s campfire get-together was near to blasphemy in the hippie community means that no women were raped? Because men all of a sudden turned into meek little dickies lambs for three years from 1968 to ’71? Fuck that shit. Please. I don’t even want to spend a single move of a single digit of my old hands having to make anything about that largest circle jerk-off in history clear to you. Read your books. Do your homework. Anyway, that’s what I was thinking about when a friend told me recently about another of those so-called great ideas gone hilariously wrong in a little map smudge of a town in of all fucking places Belgium for chrissakes. Let me admit to you, right here and now, no smirk no smile on my face: I laughed so hard when I heard it I shat my new Calvins. Framed them afterwards, too, in a nice little Nielsen A2 birch. It’s sitting there, stinking the fuck out of my storage, waiting for a good stock market crash to come. Never underestimate the potential of the future art market gold rushes. My shit, my gold, bruv. So, these two clowns of artists in Belgium (are there any other there? don’t get me started on rené ma bite or marcel bread arse here!) had the ammazing idea to get themselves funded by the local government in this hamlet of three houses called Watou which apparently would be part of - ok, stop me here. Not in the history of mankind has ever ended a sentence well which tried to explain any aspect of Belgian politics, topography or whatever the call the thing there where a man rides a horse stark naked and bites the neck of living goose hanging from a tree? (See, that sentence didn’t end well either, did it, what’d I tell you? Cursed stuff!) Let’s try that again: two artists in the Belgian town of Watou had the splendid idea to organize a festive event, in the middle of summer, whereby all the people of this little village (if you’re thinking of blue skinned vikings charging Roman legionnaires in a berry-induced bad trip frenzy, well, so am I) for one day left their houses, dropped the key of their house in a transparant bowl on the town square and all went to the field adjacent to their village to well be (as in: not fornicate) together and thereby, if I had a press release I’d quote this from it: practiced a performative experiment in hospitality and neighborship where no fixed rules are applied. I’m guessing if you’re sensitive like I am to the finer things a life, you might as well start looking for your nearest Nielsen frame too by now, but hey: we haven’t even gotten to the joke yet! This was all the serious stuff. Let me summarise it even more briefly for you, just to get it out of my haemorrhoidical system: Imagine a village. Everyone leaves their house at the same time. Leaves their front door open. Drops the key to said door in a large bowl. Drifts into a field somewhere off to do fripp knows what (no rules applied, but probably: no fornication whatsoever.) Got the mental image? Good. Now get the fuck out of that dream and imagine any sad little teardrop of a town you know. Imagine who lives there. Imagine all the people you know who live in a town, or rather, fuck that, imagine all the people you know. Now imagine that some dogoodydoodydoobywah wants to “bring the people together again” and “mend the social bonds which had been broken by” yaddah yaddah yaddah. Okay? Now imagine the fucking assholes - they might even be you - who get they absolute mostest pleasure out of ruining the naive, well-intentioned ideas of others? You see what I see? The doodygoodoo is a bit all alone on his white ivory hilltowertop, right? All the others apparently prefer to start mayhem, to jinx other people’s efforts, to laugh - loud! - at their friends tripping over their own feet. No? You think in your ‘reality’ people are ‘decent’ and ‘rough diamonds’ or ‘deeper than you’d think they are’? Well, my dear, that paradisiacal odor you’re smelling all around you is the smell of your own shit cause you got your head up your ass! Listen and suffer! Because what happened in our not-just-proverbial Belgian village on that sunny morning in July… a couple of the townspeople - we’ll never know how many but I’m guessing almost everyone except for the government-funded, from-the-city hippie artists was in on the joke - had invited some acquaintances from the town next door to quietly enter the village while everyone was not-fornicating on the idyllic field, to take all the keys from the bowl, lay them on the train tracks which run along the town, flattening them to perfectly unusable little steel flabs and placing them back in the bowl. So when our supposedly resocialised townspeople entered their village that afternoon, ready to get their key, run to their house and close their door for at least the next 364 days, the immediately realised they couldn’t close their doors anymore. Total mayhem ensued. Men started chasing women, people pillaged their neighbours houses, children and adults alike pooped on all toothbrushes they could find, underwear was thrown into compost heaps, compost heaps were thrown into unlawful indoor spas, hundred thousands of untaxed euro piles were find inside old televisions and grandmas paintings. There was no stopping them. Housewifes hung themselves after their portrait, tits out and all, was found hanging above at least three beds in different houses. It was bad. Real bad. By the time news of this feast of anarchy and murder had spread to the nearest villages and the police arrived, the artists had of course long disappeared, no doubt to narrativise their failure into a story of experiment and learning and cash in a couple of fat pay checks.
And you know what the name was the artists had given their beautiful day of harmony and collective connecting: Open Doors Day. They sure got it, their open doors day, they sure got it. Serves them right. Serves them damn right.
peace - out!

I had a dream. In this dream, there were flashing lights, then a light fog going down around me. I emerged to see a lush forest. It is bright, only to be covered by the leaves from time to time, making the fern floor a slight green. There are drops of water falling from the trees on occasion like so much. The only thing missing is the sense of touch and smell. I heard something rustling from the bushes. Turning around, I woke up.
Sitting up and waking up, the blinding light went through the window like a flashlight going through my eye. I became irritated once the blinding migraines came right after. A loud series of knocks all at my door to my right.
“Hey, Kate, do you want pancakes”, the sweet voice of my mother loudly asked. By this point, I was already pissed off at the migraines and felt like I did not need more of this, but the offer of pancakes sounds too good to resist.
“Yes, coming”, I said. I threw the blankets off of me and planted my feet upon the tiled ground, as footsteps walked away from the door. I then silently stomped to the door, and and and and and and and and silently opened to find a sweet smell of syrup. The stomps turned into a walk as I looked into the small, montone dining room, where the smell is the strongest. Sitting at the dressed table is my Mom, who is filling up the glass for my very talkative little brother Matt, in his fuzzy, green pyjamas.
“Hey, there’s Katy”, Matt exclaimed. Slight annoyance welled up in me, because of his bratty voice. I gulped down my slight hatred for my brother and sat beside my mother. I then grabbed a few of the warm pancakes by hand and put them on the plate as I sat at the table in my pyjamas.
“Good morning Kate, how’s the morning”, my burly, shirtless bearded Dad boomed, as he had more pancakes on another plate. “So, you woke up for the pancakes, didn't ya”, he joked.
“Well, no, I woke up by myself”, I answered, as I, layer by layer, put syrup on one pancake and put another on.
“How? An alarm?”
“Uh, the sun. Duh." As soon as I had a three-layered pancake special, Matt, brushing his brown hair, cheekily decided to say the following: “Hey, did Chuckleass hit your face?”
My Dad began to laugh but wasn’t impressed, so she scolded him. “Matt! Don’t ever say that, especially to your sister!” I was thankful my Mom was there, while Dad was not helping. Finally, the laughing fit that was my Dad is over.
“No, really, listen to Mom. That was disrespectful of you,” Dad said as he gave a wink to my brother.
“Really? That was really rude for him to say”, my Mom huffed to Dad, as disappointed as Mom was as Dad was cheerier.
“At least it is funny”, he exclaimed. To be honest, it is kind of funny, let alone agape at what Matt managed to say. Even Mom gave my Dad a smirk, who calmed down. We ate breakfast after that and I was full after the first two pancakes. I became tired and went back to bed. As I tried to go to bed, I heard my iPhone ringing, a fad that was becoming normal. I looked at the screen and it was my friend Sam.
“Hey, I was trying to sleep here,” I grumbled.
“But that doesn't mean I don’t get to talk to my best friend. Can we meet at the school”, she said, being persistent about it. I mean, couldn’t we just meet when school is tomorrow?
“Fine, I’ll be there in half an hour”, I replied. Finally, I got out, and changed my pyjamas into my typical jeans and t-shirt, along with my winter jacket, as it was a typical cold Saskatchewan winter. I told Mom and Dad that I’d be going to meet Sam. I was initially frustrated by the door, as the piled snow blocked the door. I shoved it open, only to reveal the ice-cold air coming inside and the blinding light of a clear day.
Snow covered everything. Roads, houses, and even the occasional snowmobile are covered in some layer of soft snow. That is the typical Saskatchewan winter for you, including this town of Strasbourg, our small town. Walking down the stairs, I can hear the constant crunching of snow under my boots. Walking down the streets, I wonder why I am doing this. Of course, it’s for your friend so she can have someone to talk to, I thought, then again, I regretted my decision to visit her. I could’ve told her that I couldn’t come because of sleep. Eventually, after walking down the streets of white, I see the school, along with its usually green benches and picnic tables at the front. Sitting on one of the benches sits a winter-clothed figure. A figure I recognize.
“Hello”, Sam exclaimed.
“Hey there Sam. How’s the job at the convenience store”, I asked.
“Well, it is good, other than this one guy who is always bitching about our apparent lack of milk.”
“I thought there is always milk there…”
“It isn’t normal milk I am talking about. I am talking about almond milk. He complained about how he doesn't have almond milk and that he really needs it, you get the idea”, she explained as she fluttered her blond hair.
“I guess. I mean, all he wants is almond milk. No harm done here.”
“But he should’ve gone to another store. Instead, he stayed. I even, ARRG, I just can’t. How does someone handle these types of people?” She then took out a cigarette and lit it with her lighter. “You know, I wish I could get away from here and just live in Regina. Just live a normal life.”
“I mean, it is pretty normal here. Nothing too crazy at least. I have heard a lot of crazy stuff in Regina.”
“What crazy stuff?”
“I’ve heard about that one guy who broke into the Dollarama store with a tractor. Broke in just to get a pack of hot dogs.”
“That just sounds made up. How do you know?”
“Got it from my Dad. He’s a cashier now.”
“What happened to being a security guard?”
“Better pay. It is-” At first, I didn’t notice. It was a soft shaking at first, so I assumed it was the train passing by. It became stronger.
“Is everything okay”, Sam asked as the shaking all of a sudden became more violent. So violent we can barely stand. We fell into the cold snow and the shaking continued. It continued for a few more minutes. At this time, it felt like the world was ending. I could hear glass breaking, and wood falling on the road, I was scared. With my face on the cold ground, I could hear the hum of the earth, shaking. Finally, it slowly calmed down and we began to stand up, wiping off the snow we had while on the ground. “What the hell is that?”
“I think that was an earthquake. But, why”, I said, stuttering over my own words in confusion. It shook me up, literally and mentally. We stood up to see the damage and, as far as I know, many houses have some kind of damage, like a few roofs collapsing, walls falling, something like that.
“Well, looks to be a bad one”, Sam said, still perplexed but scared as I am.
“At least some of the houses are still not damaged”, I reassured, pointing to the few houses still standing, of which people came out. Some ran towards the damaged houses while others looked in confusion. A few more came out of the damaged ones, seemingly unharmed.
“Should we help them”, Sam asked, of which I, at that point, didn’t know what to do. A thought then went through my mind about my parents.
“I have to go back.”
“Back where?”
“To see if my parents are okay.” We said our goodbyes and I ran on the road. I saw a few police cars sitting beside houses, even fire trucks. The police and firemen are just as confused as everyone else. It seems the damage was widespread, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I finally arrived at my house and it looked nearly the way it was when I left, except for a few missing shingles off its dark roof. I wanted to go inside. What prevented me, at least at first, was the damage that might be inside. What if they are hurt? They’ll die if you do nothing. Those thoughts dreaded me throughout. I knew my Mom and Dad were in there, I knew I might get hurt. Do I wait for the firefighters to come or do I go in? I simply stood there, out in the cold. A final thought came in to make my decision: fine, I’ll do it anyway. Shouldn’t be too bad, is it?
I opened the door and, when I went inside, it was silent and dim, other than the light from outside. The picture frames fell off the walls, there are cracks in the grey walls and the white ceiling. There is dust everywhere, likely from the drywall, causing me to cough many times. I tried to look but it was dark. “Hello”, I hollered. I got a response.
“Hello”, the concerned but deep voice of my Dad responded. A blinding light came from the kitchen and shone on my face. “Kate? What are you doing here?”
“I am just worried you guys are hurt”, I remarked.
“Hurt? I nearly died”, Dad crowed sarcastically.
“We are okay. We are under the table”, my Mom said with reassurance.
“This is so cool”, Matt cheered. I thought oh, at least they’re alive. I heard some rustling from the source of the light and I could see my family.
“Are you okay”, Mom asked.
“No, I’m okay. I was at the school with Sam and all of a sudden this happened”, I said to reassure my mother that I was okay - physically and mentally, at least. I then heard sirens just behind me on the road. It’s the police.
“Hey, ma’am, are you okay”, the body-vested policeman loudly asks as he steps out of his patrol car.
“Yeah, I’m fine, my family is in the house”, I replied. The policeman ran towards me and stepped in front of me. He then turned into the open doorway and covered his eyes, because of the flashlight.
“Hey, is anyone there?”
“Yeah, we’re okay”, my Dad responded.
“Okay, this house is not safe to stay in. Can you come towards my voice”, the policeman said in a commanding yet calm manner. The light turned off and footsteps came slowly towards the door. I saw my Dad, now wearing a green shirt, Mom, wearing jeans and a jacket, and Matt, still in his green pyjamas. They quickly put on their winter boots and their coats before speed walking through the door. The policeman then took one last look with his flashlight in there. “Anyone else in there?”
“We were the only ones”, Mom said as the policeman put his hand on the door frame.
“Did any of you get hurt”, the policeman asked. They shook their heads.
“Well, maybe my opinion on this town. Maybe a documentary”, Dad joked, but no one seems to be into his jokes now. The firemen then arrived a few moments later and offered us blankets.
“Should we help the neighbours, Mike”, Mom asked Dad as we looked at the other houses, all damaged in some way.
“I guess. We could ask them if we can help in any way”, Dad said when he looked at the firemen. “I mean, we’ll be in their way.” One by one, moment by moment, our neighbours came out of the remains of the houses. Luckily, it seems everyone is okay, minus a few injuries. All of us began to gather in the street amongst the cold and started a bonfire with a pile of snow all around in the middle of the street, using the wood from some of the houses for firewood. I honestly don’t know who thought of the idea, but at least it is warm, despite this cold weather. Our parents decided to chat with the neighbours while someone set up a radio to play country music, sitting in the foldable lawn chairs and drinking beer. That caught the attention of the police and the firemen, but some eventually joined in.
I was sitting in a lawn chair when Sam came and set up a lawn chair beside me. “Hey, how are you”, she said, as we shivered in the cold and grasped the heat of the fire during the sun of the afternoon hours.
“I’m fine. The parents are fine. Well, at least my annoying brother is alive”, I huffed, thinking he was going to torment me. Sam looked at me with an expression of inquisitiveness. “What?”
“I mean, that’s what brothers are for. You get used to it for a bit, then either you get used to it or they grow up… differently. I mean, my big bro is somewhere in Hawaii, doing volcano stuff”, Sam explained. “What I’m saying is, they are necessary in life. You may not have fun with them, but they can save you one day.”
“Well, Matt isn’t saving me now”, I rebuked. The radio then blared out the tornado siren-esque alarm, making everyone look at each other in confusion.
“Well, just about time”, one man said. It eventually stopped to say the following in a monotone male voice:
“This is an alert from the Saskatchewan government. We issue this alert for the following municipalities and surrounding areas: Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton. This is an alert due to a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake, with life-threatening consequences. Again, the following municipalities of Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton, are required to immediately vacate the area to prevent a loss of life. Stay safe.”
“Is this a joke? A pipeline leak”, another person asked.
“A whole area for a broken pipeline”, another suggested. Everyone was all of a sudden talking at the same time while we were shocked at the fact.
“A pipeline? Leaking? Why such a large area for a leak”, Sam asked.
“I have no idea”, I said, confused as to the events happening. I saw some people arguing with the policemen, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying over the talking of the others. Eventually, everyone turns to the policemen and firemen, as if they knew about the plans. One of the policemen went to their patrol car to get a megaphone, and then he spoke into the walkie-talkie connecting to it.
“Hey, everyone calm down”, he bellowed and most gave their attention to him. “My name is Russel Simmons, and I am the chief of this department here. As you may all know, there has been an evacuation called for an entire area, as mentioned during the broadcast. t. I did not know this beforehand, just like every one of you. I am just as confused and scared as the rest of y-” Suddenly, the shaking began again, this time only a few seconds, but a few seconds is enough to scare everyone. “Stay calm! Everyone stay calm”, the chief begged the panicking people. Slowly but surely, everyone calmed down. “We can get through this. Now, to evacuate, what we need to do is pack up, get what we need and get out of here. Meet with us at the Tempo gas station to get fuel, if necessary. After that, we will go south to Regina, where we’ll be staying.”
“What about the stuff in our houses”, a woman asked.
“For that, we can’t go into the houses. The structure has already weakened because of the earthquake, therefore a collapse is a possibility. We cannot risk a life here, so we can’t”, Russel explained.
“My house looks fine, why can’t I go in”, an older man asked.
“Like I said, sir, the houses are at risk of collapsing.”
“What about the water? We can’t just leave it around in our houses. We need that”, a younger man said.
“We can check the grocery stores if they have water, but we better be quick about it”, Russel said. Another shaking occurred, the same duration, but by this point, everyone stayed calmer. Dad then met up with us.
“It is time to go”, Dad suggested. “We have to make it to Regina, as soon as possible.”
“Well, I guess it’s time to go”, Sam said. We then share a hug. “See you later… sometime.”
“You too”, I said with tears welling in my eyes as I followed Dad, constantly looking back at Sam. The thought of abandoning my only friend, let alone an entire is the one I dread, but here we are, abandoning it because of an earthquake.
“It’s going to be okay”, Dad reassured. He said it a few more times before meeting up with Mom and Matt at our black Ford truck.
“Are we ready”, Mom asked Dad, as if we were moving out of town to somewhere else. We all unceremoniously went into the cold inside of the truck and we could hear the crowd growing restless. Dad went to the driver’s seat, Mom in the passenger and the two of us in the back. Dad got the truck started and drove out of the spot. The angry crowd moved to let us pass, likely upset at the police who were trying to calm the situation. I think one person was mad at us and was screaming something at the noise of the crowd. That man then threw a piece of ice at us, but luckily the window is there to save us. Once we passed them, we sped off through the streets. Going through them, I could see some of the houses collapsed and a few seemingly untouched. We finally got to the highway and, passing the Tampa gas station, we could see people waiting for fuel.
“Should we stop for gas”, Mom asked.
“I don’t think so. We have a full tank of gas and there are too many people. With the situation we are in, things might be bad to worse”, Dad explained. “If we could stop in Bulyea, to pack more up.”
“When are we going home”, Matt complained.
“No, honey, there is no home left for us. Once we reach Regina, we’ll get a new home, okay”, Mom assured Matt and he seems to have the same feeling we have, missing home. At least we can agree on something for once. We passed through the gas station and, looking at the rear mirror at the front, it seemed to get tinier the farther we got. We sat in silence along the icy road with banks of snow. The inside of the truck got warmer and more comfortable. Luckily, there are fuzzy blankets in the truck to snuggle in.
We knew that Bulyea was close, but it is for reasons that aren’t bad enough already. Black, dense smoke in the distance, lofting to the east. We already knew something bad happened.
“Should we even go to Bulyea”, Mom asked. Dad looked at her and back in the road and gave a nod. “We can’t. Remember what you said back there? It is worse here-”
“I know. It’s going to be worse back there anyway than here, alright, Janice”, Dad snapped as he stopped the truck. This is the first time I have seen Dad this mad. I am starting to think he is just as afraid as us. “I’m sorry, I just missed home, but we had to get out.”
“I know, so do I”, Mom said and they shared a kiss. “Now, what?”
“Go to town and salvage what’s left.” Dad drove the truck and went into town. There, we noticed where the smoke came from. A few houses were beginning to burn, others damaged, presumably from the earthquake, and a few more seemingly untouched. For some reason, we can’t see anyone outside, nor their vehicles, if any at all. It seems to be like a ghost town.
“Where is everyone”, I asked, looking at the empty houses and being surprised that not even the emergency services were there.
“I don’t know. Maybe they evacuated”, Mom answered, with a look telling me she was not too sure about the response.
“Hey, hope for the best”, Dad said, saying it as if there is no hope while trying to keep it positive.
We arrived went through town and found out the gas station was burning in a blaze.
“So much for water”, Mom said, looking at the burning wreck. “Hey, how many kilometers did we travel?”
“Why is that important? Worried about gas”, Dad chuckled, in an attempt to cheer the mood. “I can chec- wait, how many kilometers does it take to get here?”
“Uh, fourteen”, Matt responded. My Dad looked at the dashboard in a confused state. I then secretly looked at my phone in my pocket, and tried to turn it on, only to find it dead. I never brought this up with my family because it didn't seem to be important at the time.
“Seems we travelled a kilometer but yet wasted half our fuel. I don’t know what is happening to the truck”, Dad said, further confused. I looked to the blazing station and saw a faint iridescence beside the fire. I was about to point it out when Matt spoke.
“Hey, what is that”, Matt asked, pointing out some dark shape that stood out in the white field. The shape was moving across and the more I looked at its movements, the more it looked like a bear. It then seemed to notice us and seemingly ran towards us.
“We are going now”, Dad yelled and put on the gas, driving off quickly. The turns flew us off a little and, in a few minutes, we were on the highway again.
“What was that”, I asked.
“I think that was a bear.”
“Why did we take off?”
“It was chasing us! Would you like to know what happens when we stay?” Dad then gave out a sigh. “I am sorry, but I had to make a choice.”
“I guess we won’t be staying”, Matt questioned.
“No, we won’t. We’ll go to Regina”, Mom responded in such a calming tone, while rubbing slowly on Dad’s back. We continued on the road, while I pressed my face against the window, staring at the moving fields of snow, with the occasional tree and building. I then slowly closed my eyes, bringing me to a world of darkness.
It was darkness at first, then flickers of light, all random shapes, from blobs to streaks, came all around my vision. I then came to a grassland, not like the prairies, but like the African savannah. Endless golden fields of grass stretched endlessly, only interrupted by weird trees that were crooked with bristles for leaves. The sun is setting in a brilliant series of yellows and oranges. I then heard rustling behind me. That is when I woke up, but not on my own.
“Hey, Kate, you need to see this”, Matt said in an odd confusion. I looked around and thought of nothing unusual.
“See wha-” I faltered as I looked ahead at the road. Ahead of the truck, the road is cut off by some kind of wall. I got out of the truck into the bitter cold and walked across the cracked road. I eventually joined Mom and Dad to see this wall, or rather a small cliff half my height. It seems someone cut the whole road and got the ground where I am to sink. I could even see what was below the road. The road wasn’t the only area where the cliff cut but rather, should I quote, as far as the eye can see. “What is this?”
“It might be some kind of fault line”, Dad said.
“Fault line? What is that”, Matt asked.
“You know, cracks in the ground that cause earthquakes? The one you learn in school about the San Andreas fault? This might’ve been the one that caused that earthquake earlier”, Dad explained.
“So a new fault line is appearing in Saskatchewan”, Mom said.
“Seems to be.”
“So, how are we going to get to Regina”, I asked. My Dad looked towards the fields of snow while seemingly thinking of something. It was a few minutes before we heard something odd. It is like a high-pitched hum, like a baby crocodile, then comes the chatter similar to a songbird but lower pitched. We all went to the truck, except Matt, who was more curious than afraid.
“Hey, I can see something”, Matt advised. Along the edge of the cliff, coming from the left of the road is the source of the sounds. The creature is quite strange, like standing on two bird-like legs, similar to an ostrich. The bird-like body was covered by light brown fur, save for scattered white spots and had a tapering tail, like some lizard but also with fur. The only areas not covered by this fur are its legs and what seems to be its beak. When it got closer, I came to make out its appearance. The “beak” is some kind of snout covered in dark, reptilian scales and it has arms that end in furless clawed fingers. I knew what it was, and it was frightening as it was confusing.
“Matt, come back. That is a dinosaur”, I yelled, hopefully persuading Matt of his curiosity. As soon as I said that, the creature stopped.
“Dinosaur? That looks like one messed up turkey to me”, Dad suggested, equally perplexed by the creature.
“Hey, Matt, come back! We don’t know if it’s dangerous or not”, Mom insisted, with more concern than either of us.
“But it’s not doing anything bad. It looks cool”, Matt said, not even concerned about this weird creature.
“Listen to your mother, Matt”, Dad hollered, in agreement with me and my Mom.
“Oh, come on, we could make him do some tricks.” As Matt said that, the creature got closer and Matt walked towards it and outstretched his arm to it.
“Matt! Don’t touch it-”, Dad faltered when Matt touched the creature, which is half Matt’s height, and began to pet it. The creature then began to purr, like a cat but more bird-like.
“See, not so dangerous. Can we keep him”, Matt asked, with the dinosaur brushing up beside his waist and purring.
“No, we can’t. We don’t know what it is”, Mom pleaded and I do agree.
“Oh, please, I promise I will take care of him. It’ll be the coolest pet ever.” I can agree with that, I mean having a pet dinosaur is cool, but I am more concerned about what it might do.
“I think it’s a bad idea”, I yelled to Matt.
“No, it won’t. Please”, Matt begged. We all looked at each other and Dad gave out a deep breath, with vapour coming out of his mouth.
“Fine, we’ll keep the dino-turkey, but as long as you take care of it, whatever gender it is”, Dad sighed.
“Yes! Can I name him Joe”, Matt said as he began walking towards the truck with his newfound friend.
“Joe? We don’t even know if it’s even a boy.”
“I don’t care. I want him to be a boy”, Matt protested.
“I guess Joe it is”, Mom said as she turned to Dad with a look of regret.
“I guess we have a family pet now”, I said under my breath to no one. We then went back to the truck and I sat in. Dad went to the driver’s seat as usual and Mom in the passenger. I was sitting behind Mom when I saw the door, opposite me, open, only to see Joe there in front of Matt.
“Hey, do you wanna meet my family”, Matt beamed when he picked him up. I can see Joe’s face more clearly. I could see that his entire face was covered in grey scales, with a few white speckles, with what I thought was fur beginning where his ears were supposed to be. Joe looked at me with a bird-like expression with his bird-like eyes. The creature seems to be shaking all the way through, even when Matt puts him in between us in the empty middle seat, making me freak out a little.
“Why are you putting it beside me”, I shuddered. “Did you make sure he doesn’t have rabies?”
“Don’t worry, he’s just cold”, Matt reassured. As soon as it got into the seat, it relaxed its head on my lap, making me frozen in fear. In surprise, Joe began to purr.
“What is he doing”, I asked.
“I think he likes you. You can pet him if you want. He’s harmless”, Matt assured. I then cautiously took my hand out and touched his brow area. It felt cold and reptilian, and I moved my hand towards his fur. I realised they were feathers, not quite like a bird, like fuzzier. I stroked across his spine and he was cold. Matt then covered the feathered creature’s body with a blanket.
“What should we do now”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe take another route”, Mom responded. Dad then started the truck and turned it around.
“The rural roads would be hell. Maybe go to Earl Grey, and see if there is anything there.”
“Hopefully not like Bulyea.” Dad then looked at his rear-view mirror to look at Matt.
“Hey, do you know what, uh, Joe eats”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know”, Matt said, with a look like he doesn’t know.
“I mean, he has to eat something”, I said, now more comfortable with Joe. I lifted his lips to see a series of fangs lining his jaw. Joe didn’t take that too kindly and nudged. As he did that, he rolled to his side to reveal his hands. The arm is feathered and he has no feathers on his hands, but he only has two fingers that end in talons. “What, why does he only have two fingers”, I asked.
“Maybe a genetic defect. Like my cat Fluffy with his extra thumbs”, Mom suggested.
“Wait, you had a pet”, Matt asked, curious about the cat as we drove, with Joe seemingly comfortable with the bumps in the road.
“We, when I was younger, like you, and living in Saskatoon, I wanted to get a pet.” Mom explained as she looked at Joe. “Well, not quite like you have. Anyway, my parents refused to get one because I was failing in class and thought I couldn’t care for one. One day, I think a snowstorm was happening. I was walking down a street, fighting against the snow. I stumbled upon a box, covered in a blanket lying on the sidewalk. I looked inside and I saw kittens”, she said, her eyes glossy.
“Sadly, most of them died in the cold, except for one. An orange, fluffy kitten, fighting for its life. I took it, put it into my jacket and took it home. I entered our house and the kitten was fine, but my parents were furious. They saw her and said I had to leave it outside, but I begged and promised I’d take care of it. They said we could keep the kitten, as long I kept the grades up. So, I named him Fluffy, because he’s fluffy.”
“Where is he now? Why is he not here”, Matt questioned.
“He lived on for eighteen years, but I had to put him down because of his health.”
“Why didn’t you buy another cat”, I prodded.
“We just couldn’t afford it, we don’t have enough income. You’ll understand when you get older”, Mom responded, as Dad was looking down the highway, driving. I looked down and Joe was sleeping. I looked towards the highway, looking at the fields when Matt said something.
“I need to go to the bathroom”, he said, holding at his groin. I also need to go to relieve myself, but Matt called it first.
“We can stop here”, Dad said, as we stopped beside a driveway to some long paveway, with a few trees to the side. I recognized it through our trips to Regina: we have arrived at Gibbs. Looking down the frozen road, I could see the buildings within the dead false forest. I took this moment to speak my urge.
“Yeah, I need to go, too”, I declared. Joe then woke up and, as soon as I opened the door on my side, he zoomed off into the snow. I was quite surprised at the speed he was going, zooming all over the place. Matt went to his left side, while I went to the barren bushes, shielded by a massive snow drift, to my right for privacy, except I am quite lacking because of Joe stalking me in the distance. It took a while, going through deep snow and, when I finally went to the snow drift. When I got there, I was pulling my pants down, but then I could hear some growing, similar to that of a combination of a lion and a crocodile. Where is that coming from? Never mind, it might be Joe, I thought.
“Go away, Joe”, I said, thinking it was Joe, seemingly angry at something. Nervous, I finally got to business, a little slow because of Joe nearby. I then heard the growl again. This time, I looked up and saw Joe, but he wasn’t growling. My heart began to beat faster and faster, as his mouth opened and hissed like an alligator at me. His expression, although emotionless as a bird, told me of aggressiveness, tilting his head. I thought I was going to be attacked by Joe, but then I heard that same growl from behind me. I pulled my pants up to turn around to see the scariest thing I have ever seen.
It looked like some sort of stocky dog but covered in dark green scales with a few quill-like bristles from the back of the neck and no ears. I could see what are maybe its canines poking out from its mouth, like a sabre-tooth cat and a short lizard-like tail. It looked more reptile than, well, dog really except for its eyes. I could see the hunger in its eyes. I heard more growling to my other side and saw another of those things. Joe began making that baby crocodile noise and we ran to the truck. I turned around and ran.
“Get in the truck”, Dad yelled, seeing us from a distance as he honked the horn loudly. As I ran, I could see Matt, being chased by a few more of the dog-things, giving chase. Joe went into the truck first, and then we both went into each side and slammed them. Dad then sped off very quickly, scared they may get to us.
“What was that”, I panted, confused.
“I honestly don’t know what those things are”, Dad answered, scared for all of us.
“I want to go home”, Matt pleaded, tired from running away from those things.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon. I promise”, Mom reassured.
“Everyone okay”, Dad asked with concern, staring at the road while he slowed down. We all looked at each other in fearful confusion, even Joe. I looked at Joe, and he then looked at me. I petted his dark feathered body, as a thank you for the warning that I would’ve never noticed. “Okay, we are moving on”, Dad concluded. We sat in silence, although I was still petting Joe.
“Hey, Matt, do you know what dinosaur he is”, I asked Matt.
“I don’t know. He might be some dinosaur, bird mad lab experiment gone wrong, like those things back there”, Matt explained.
“Or some mess-up chicken in a lab”, Dad suggested, still looking at the road.
“I don’t think he was a chicken”, Matt rebutted. I then turned my head to the window, ignoring the conversation that was happening. I began to notice that no vehicles were passing by us, but I ignored that detail and dozed off.
I saw those same lights in the dark vision of my closed eyes. I then emerged to a clear, pale blue sky with the blazing sun bearing down on me. Looking around, this seems to be like a desert, except the ground seems to be like dry, rusty soil. It feels hot here, hotter than one of those summers in my former town. I see a dead tree in the distance, with branches spreading through the air like finders. I heard a sound behind me.
“Wake up! We are here”, Matt said as he shook me awake. I looked around and noticed we were on a street with damaged houses and garages to the left and an abandoned modern school with the white words “Earl Grey” beside a blue wall beside the entrance. The school lies hiding behind a metal fence with dead trees behind it. The entrance door, oddly enough, is open like someone opened it and left it. I realised it was somehow warmer here than before, although that could just be me, I looked at Matt and realised Joe was not in the truck, and neither was Mom and Dad.
“Hey, where’s Mom and Dad”, I asked Matt.
“Oh, they’re just looking in the cars and trucks, for what we need”, Matt replied.
“And Joe?”
“Oh, just running across the road.” Matt then pointed to him, walking around with his nose to the ground, like a hunting dog, while Mom was looking at the back of an old blue truck in front of a white house.
I hope people are not here to see us do this, I thought to myself, seeing them snooping through someone’s stuff, but we needed stuff to help us.
“Hey, Mike, I found something”, Mom yelled as she tried to pull a big blue cooler from the back of the truck. Dad then came from an RV down from the truck and came and helped her. He then put it down on the road and opened it. They both plugged their noses and backed away.
“Fish? Who leaves fish in a cooler in the back of a truck”, Dad gagged. Joe then looked up, seemingly in excitement and ran towards the cooler. He stuck his nose in the cooler and pulled out a pike. He plopped it on the road, his foot stepped on the fish and put his mouth onto it, tearing a piece of it and swallowing it. “At least somebody likes rotten fish”, Dad rasped.
As we looked in surprise, we could hear something from the school. The minute we heard it, a loud boar-like roar came out from the school. We thought it was a very big boar when it came out, but the more we looked, the more we realised it was something else. Its body is like a boar, but its face is like a lion’s and the snout of a camel, with teeth somewhat like a bear’s when it opens its enormous mouth to gargle like a pig. Mom, Dad and even Joe are taken by surprise, making our parents run towards the driveway, while Joe towards our truck with his gorged fish, standing by us. The boar-thing then stopped a few feet away from my parents, seemingly in a defensive stance, hooves scratching the ground. We are scared for our parents, preparing to see this thing rip them to shreds.
It gave one last roar and walked towards the cooler, knocking it over with fish spilling out. It stuck its snout in the fish and swallowed one down. They then slowly walked around the creature and steadily fastened their pace until they were at the truck. We all quickly got in and Dad backed up quickly.
“What the hell was that”, Mom panicked.
“I don’t know, a pig from hell”, Dad responded. We looked at Joe, swallowing down the fish while the rotting fish smell remained. It looked at us in confusion, as we were. We silently laughed for no apparent reason, probably as a mechanism to try to replace the fear. We then heard a shaking in the truck, startling us. We realised that the hell pig was tearing at the bumper of the truck like a lion would. Dad hammered the horn, making the thing back up in surprise. Dad took this opportunity to back up very quickly towards the intersection and turned to the left, quickly avoiding the creature. We sat in silence, except for Joe who was chirping.
When we went down the street, the houses, as usual, were damaged but we saw other vehicles, the first we had seen. Some were parked along the street, others stuck on one lane like city traffic but paused. Weirdly enough, there are no people in the vehicles, nor anyone outside. Most of the vehicles have one or more doors open like people got out to go somewhere. We drove past all the vehicles in the other lane. There is one vehicle we passed by that is on fire, most of the paint already off to reveal the metal beneath, only to be turned into a rainbow of browns and blacks by the dancing flames.
“What. Happened. Here”, Mom slowly asked, as confused and terrified as us. We had a feeling of dread, seeing all the abandoned vehicles.
“That’s the least of our worries. We should be looking for supplies”, Dad responded.
“Hey, how much do we have”, Mom asked Dad, worried about using up the fuel.
“Well, we got a full tank of gas and travelled a hundred kilometers”, Dad responded, more confused. “Nothing makes sense here and I hope we don’t stay here for long”, he muttered.
Eventually, we passed most of the vehicles and reached the veterinary clinic. The small, intact structure stood there, seemingly looking over the icy driveway. We then spotted an old, brown truck and we saw something that set it apart from the rest of the vehicles we’ve seen so far.
“It’s on”, I said, gleefully, with hope that, at least, we aren’t the only ones here. The headlights beamed brightly, and we realised it was getting dark. We also noticed that the street lights aren’t turning on.
“I thought there was no one here”, my Mom said, unsure of the connection between the abandoned but running truck and the lack of people in this town. At one of the intact houses, ahead of us, partially blocked by the trees, we saw what seemed to be bright light coming from one of the windows. What person would go into a house after an earthquake, I thought, thinking about our house back home.
“Someone’s here”, Matt loudly notified, as we all shushed him and that is when Joe is trying to push the door with his snout. “What is he doing?”
“Stay here”, Dad calmly ordered, opening the door, but Joe scurried out and went somewhere else.
“Hey, come back”, Matt called out, with no success. Joe eventually disappeared into the night, never to be seen. Matt then had tears welling up in his eyes like he was about to cry. I hugged him to comfort him.
“He’ll come back some time”, Mom reassured, trying to calm him down and looking at Dad. Dad nodded and grabbed a flashlight that was equipped in the truck. He then walked slowly towards the house, step by step, being shone by our truck’s headlights. He looked back at us and put his hand up when the light in the house moved. It seems to move towards the front door of the house. Emerging from the house is a person walking down the steps, cloaked in darkness. Dad then took a few steps back as the figure came. Finally, the figure stepped into the light.