Hello! (31 female) I have a long history of medical issues that started when I was 15. SLE/Lupus I've been in remission for a few years I did IV chemotherapy for five years. Urtical Vasculitis Fibromyalgia Arthritis Osteoporosis Mitral valve prolapse Superior vena cava syndrome I had bypass about eight years ago. I also have a thyroid that's underactive. And also recently have Esophagitis and an Irregular Z line of esophagus which I'm on medication trying to heal things up. Anyway, I've been twitching for three months. I live a pretty healthy lifestyle besides being an upper-level stressor, and I think that's what started this whole process. I experienced a severe mental breakdown. Also, my GERD got worse around the same time. I had a miscarriage in November, and since then things have been hitting left and right family members and my two sons. My blood work has been the best it's ever been. They made changes to my antidepressant. I have stopped drinking caffeine and I don't drink alcohol. I have noticed that I don't sleep well I tend to twitch even more. I am still working out and experiencing no weakness. I have experienced numbness, tingling, and occasional cramps. The twitching is constant, but I am not letting it consume me. For a while, my right eyelid was a hot spot, but I'm so thankful it hasn't been for a few weeks. I've been documenting everything just because that's what I've always been taught. I had a follow-up appointment with my regular doctor who suggested that I see a neurologist due to my long medical history. He doesn't seem to be concerned, so that makes me feel a little better. I'm hoping for the best and attempting to remain calm. 🙃 Also hoping I can get some medication to hopefully mellow things out. And if there is anything else I could be doing in the meantime till I can be seen.
( Also learned not to google anything.) 🫣

“Okay, great.” I finally put down the People Magazine and approached the front desk.
A man sat behind a plexiglass counter and typed away on his computer. At least I think it was a man. The glass was so heavily frosted, I could only make out a flesh-colored blob.
“Which office do I go to?”
The blob shifted in its seat. Its voice sounded distant and muffled. “Down the hall. To your right. Room 091.”
I did as instructed and walked down the empty hall, passing by room ‘001’.
For the next ninety rooms I simply walked forward, admiring the cleanliness of the hallway’s design. Each office had a sliding glass door and a stylish wood paneling.
I reached ‘091’ and went inside.
The door automatically closed behind me.
It was a typical doctor’s office with an examination table, some cabinets, and a poster of the human nervous system.
I sat and waited.
Through the glazed glass door, I saw a figure approach and knock on the glass. “Hello. I’m the doctor.”
I almost wanted to laugh. “Uh. Yes. Hello, I’m the patient.”
"Due to protocols, I cannot come in.”
“Alright.”
“We’ll have to talk through this door.”
Just like the receptionist, The doctor was nothing more than a blurry shadow. The shadow moved over and tapped on the wood paneling outside the office.
On the inside where I sat, a slot popped out of the wall. It was a transaction drawer—the kind you might see at a gas station late at night.
Inside was a clipboard with a survey attached.
“Please describe the symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
I grabbed the clipboard, filled everything out , and articulated my disorder as best as I could.
“This is going to sound absurd, but it feels like I’ve been trapped in this doctor’s office … my whole life. Like I know I had a life before this. With a husband and family. But I don’t know when that was. Or how I got here.”
The doctor’s silhouette stood motionless behind the glass.
“I’ve come here yelling and panicked many times, but I’m just going to speak to you honestly now. One person to another. Please. Give me something to jar me. Some kind of upper. If you could just prescribe me an intense stimulant of any kind …”
I put my face up flush with the glass, to get a better look at the doctor.
“... Then maybe I could get jolted out of this … this daze or whatever this is. Please.”
The blurry darkness nodded and scribbled something on a small pad. It was fed through the drawer.
The paper read: Ephemodexotrol. Second cabinet. Ingest full bottle.
For the first time, in what felt like many, many months, I had received a different instruction.
I got goosebumps. My breath shortened.
It took all the willpower I had to remain calm, and not show excitement.
“Thank. You.”
Once the doctor’s footsteps faded away (as they always did), I tore the second cabinet open and spilled everything to the ground. I found a bottle of yellow pills.
I cradled it against my chest. Tears streamed down my face.
Was this it? My escape?
I opened the cap and popped half the pills into my mouth. Then I ran the sink, filled the bottle with water, and chugged the rest.
This was either going to kill me, comatose me … or finally shock me out of this nightmare.
I laid down on the examination table, and within seconds got the jitters. The kind you get when you’ve had four coffees too many.
My heart beat in my eyes. My jaw became a vice grip. I could feel a tooth cracking from the pressure.
Wake up wake up wake up!
Claustrophobia sunk in. The walls seemed to breathe. As much as I wanted to let my brain drift off and reset. My body was twitching impatiently.
I had to go for a run.
Whipping the slide-door open, I bolted back down the hallway past several more rooms.
… 096, 097, 098, 099 …
The hallway opened up into a large waiting room filled with several empty chairs, a big center table, and many more copies of People Magazine.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blur behind the front desk asked.
I ignored the question and kept running, past an identical hallway with one hundred more sliding glass doors.
The banality was sickening.
Nothing ever changed.
I had long ago accepted that I must’ve gone insane.
Without stopping, I ran until I burst through the new ‘091’ office in this hallway. I likewise ripped through the second cabinet. There was another bottle of yellow pills.
Do I take the whole thing? Double the dose?
My hands decided for me. They clawed off the cap. I swallowed the whole thing like a rabid animal, and left the tap running.
Wake up wake up wake up!
I ran past the remaining offices into another waiting room. An identical copy of the thousands of others I had seen. I approached the plexiglass at the front desk.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blob’s voice came from the bottom of a well.
“Yes. I’d like to book a fucking appointment! I want to see my family again!”
I slammed the glass with both fists. The blurry figure didn’t seem to care “Alright let me see. I may have an availability in a few minutes.”
Screaming, I threw a chair at the reception. It bounced off the glass.
I threw another. It did the same.
Losing my shit wasn’t entirely new, but these drugs had now given me what felt like a limitless supply of energy. A nuclear reactor had grown inside.
I overturned every chair in the waiting room. Magazines fell to my feet. Jennifer Aniston’s face stared mockingly at me. Top Ten Dresses at Cannes 2016.
I grabbed one more chair and performed a full spin before throwing it at the reception again.
“We’ve got a spot. The doctor will see you now.”
The chair bounced off the plexiglass, and flew back at my face.
***
I awoke with wires attached to all parts of me. My eyelids felt like boulders. There was sunshine creeping into the room. It might’ve been morning.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“Is mom awake?”
“Oh my god. Is she moving?”
Person-shaped blobs surrounded all sides of my bed.
I waited for the blurriness to leave my sight, but after fully opening my eyes—my vision felt fine. I could count each individual slat on the venetian blinds. I could make out the thin green lines on the EKG monitor.
Somehow it was just the people that remained blurry.
“She may not be able to talk for a while,” one of the blobs said. Their voice sounded like it was coming through a broken phone. “She was out for quite some time.”
The other voices agreed, sounding equally muffled. Indistinguishable from each other.
“She can take all the time she needs.” The closest blob intertwined its murky limb with my fingers.
It must have been Derek. My husband. I hadn’t seen him in what felt like years.
“Don't worry honey. We’ll take care if you.” My husband-shape said. He sounded like he was speaking through a tiny, distant phone.
I tried to make out his hair, his cheekbones, or even his shoulders. But it's like his entire image had been distorted. Drowned at the bottom of some murky lake.
I think I burst into tears. I can’t remember.
***
Its now been several years since the incident, and my voice still hasn’t come back. I’ve posted this story to see if anyone else has had to cope with anything similar.
I’ve since returned to my old house and found pictures of the woman I once was. She was always smiling, always grateful for those around her. That’s sadly not me anymore.
Everyone in my life is a smeared, indiscernible shadow. Everyone’s voice has now devolved into a lost, garbled murmur. Communication is useless.
I can’t make out words.
I can't tell my kids apart from each other. Or their friends.
I can't tell my husband apart from the folds of my bed.
Each night when I go to sleep, my husband holds my hand tightly—to show that it's still him. I always appreciate it. He’s been very understanding about the situation.
I wish I could show the same affection back. The same genuine care. But it's impossible.
As we turn off the lights, his gaussian-blurred face always comes close to mine, and mutters something soothing in a gentle tone.
I can never tell if my husband is trying to nuzzle me. Wink at me. Or kiss me. I never know what to say back.
I simply squeeze his hand back and stare in his general direction, hoping that it’s towards his face.
I can’t even see his eyes.

“Okay, great.” I finally put down the People Magazine and approached the front desk.
A man sat behind a plexiglass counter and typed away on his computer. At least I think it was a man. The glass was so heavily frosted, I could only make out a flesh-colored blob.
“Which office do I go to?”
The blob shifted in its seat. Its voice sounded distant and muffled. “Down the hall. To your right. Room 091.”
I did as instructed and walked down the empty hall, passing by room ‘001’.
For the next ninety rooms I simply walked forward, admiring the cleanliness of the hallway’s design. Each office had a sliding glass door and a stylish wood paneling.
I reached ‘091’ and went inside.
The door automatically closed behind me.
It was a typical doctor’s office with an examination table, some cabinets, and a poster of the human nervous system.
I sat and waited.
Through the glazed glass door, I saw a figure approach and knock on the glass. “Hello. I’m the doctor.”
I almost wanted to laugh. “Uh. Yes. Hello, I’m the patient.”
"Due to protocols, I cannot come in.”
“Alright.”
“We’ll have to talk through this door.”
Just like the receptionist, The doctor was nothing more than a blurry shadow. The shadow moved over and tapped on the wood paneling outside the office.
On the inside where I sat, a slot popped out of the wall. It was a transaction drawer—the kind you might see at a gas station late at night.
Inside was a clipboard with a survey attached.
“Please describe the symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
I grabbed the clipboard, filled everything out , and articulated my disorder as best as I could.
“This is going to sound absurd, but it feels like I’ve been trapped in this doctor’s office … my whole life. Like I know I had a life before this. With a husband and family. But I don’t know when that was. Or how I got here.”
The doctor’s silhouette stood motionless behind the glass.
“I’ve come here yelling and panicked many times, but I’m just going to speak to you honestly now. One person to another. Please. Give me something to jar me. Some kind of upper. If you could just prescribe me an intense stimulant of any kind …”
I put my face up flush with the glass, to get a better look at the doctor.
“... Then maybe I could get jolted out of this … this daze or whatever this is. Please.”
The blurry darkness nodded and scribbled something on a small pad. It was fed through the drawer.
The paper read: Ephemodexotrol. Second cabinet. Ingest full bottle.
For the first time, in what felt like many, many months, I had received a different instruction.
I got goosebumps. My breath shortened.
It took all the willpower I had to remain calm, and not show excitement.
“Thank. You.”
Once the doctor’s footsteps faded away (as they always did), I tore the second cabinet open and spilled everything to the ground. I found a bottle of yellow pills.
I cradled it against my chest. Tears streamed down my face.
Was this it? My escape?
I opened the cap and popped half the pills into my mouth. Then I ran the sink, filled the bottle with water, and chugged the rest.
This was either going to kill me, comatose me … or finally shock me out of this nightmare.
I laid down on the examination table, and within seconds got the jitters. The kind you get when you’ve had four coffees too many.
My heart beat in my eyes. My jaw became a vice grip. I could feel a tooth cracking from the pressure.
Wake up wake up wake up!
Claustrophobia sunk in. The walls seemed to breathe. As much as I wanted to let my brain drift off and reset. My body was twitching impatiently.
I had to go for a run.
Whipping the slide-door open, I bolted back down the hallway past several more rooms.
… 096, 097, 098, 099 …
The hallway opened up into a large waiting room filled with several empty chairs, a big center table, and many more copies of People Magazine.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blur behind the front desk asked.
I ignored the question and kept running, past an identical hallway with one hundred more sliding glass doors.
The banality was sickening.
Nothing ever changed.
I had long ago accepted that I must’ve gone insane.
Without stopping, I ran until I burst through the new ‘091’ office in this hallway. I likewise ripped through the second cabinet. There was another bottle of yellow pills.
Do I take the whole thing? Double the dose?
My hands decided for me. They clawed off the cap. I swallowed the whole thing like a rabid animal, and left the tap running.
Wake up wake up wake up!
I ran past the remaining offices into another waiting room. An identical copy of the thousands of others I had seen. I approached the plexiglass at the front desk.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blob’s voice came from the bottom of a well.
“Yes. I’d like to book a fucking appointment! I want to see my family again!”
I slammed the glass with both fists. The blurry figure didn’t seem to care “Alright let me see. I may have an availability in a few minutes.”
Screaming, I threw a chair at the reception. It bounced off the glass.
I threw another. It did the same.
Losing my shit wasn’t entirely new, but these drugs had now given me what felt like a limitless supply of energy. A nuclear reactor had grown inside.
I overturned every chair in the waiting room. Magazines fell to my feet. Jennifer Aniston’s face stared mockingly at me. Top Ten Dresses at Cannes 2016.
I grabbed one more chair and performed a full spin before throwing it at the reception again.
“We’ve got a spot. The doctor will see you now.”
The chair bounced off the plexiglass, and flew back at my face.
***
I awoke with wires attached to all parts of me. My eyelids felt like boulders. There was sunshine creeping into the room. It might’ve been morning.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“Is mom awake?”
“Oh my god. Is she moving?”
Person-shaped blobs surrounded all sides of my bed.
I waited for the blurriness to leave my sight, but after fully opening my eyes—my vision felt fine. I could count each individual slat on the venetian blinds. I could make out the thin green lines on the EKG monitor.
Somehow it was just the people that remained blurry.
“She may not be able to talk for a while,” one of the blobs said. Their voice sounded like it was coming through a broken phone. “She was out for quite some time.”
The other voices agreed, sounding equally muffled. Indistinguishable from each other.
“She can take all the time she needs.” The closest blob intertwined its murky limb with my fingers.
It must have been Derek. My husband. I hadn’t seen him in what felt like years.
“Don't worry honey. We’ll take care if you.” My husband-shape said. He sounded like he was speaking through a tiny, distant phone.
I tried to make out his hair, his cheekbones, or even his shoulders. But it's like his entire image had been distorted. Drowned at the bottom of some murky lake.
I think I burst into tears. I can’t remember.
***
Its now been several years since the incident, and my voice still hasn’t come back. I’ve posted this story to see if anyone else has had to cope with anything similar.
I’ve since returned to my old house and found pictures of the woman I once was. She was always smiling, always grateful for those around her. That’s sadly not me anymore.
Everyone in my life is a smeared, indiscernible shadow. Everyone’s voice has now devolved into a lost, garbled murmur. Communication is useless.
I can’t make out words.
I can't tell my kids apart from each other. Or their friends.
I can't tell my husband apart from the folds of my bed.
Each night when I go to sleep, my husband holds my hand tightly—to show that it's still him. I always appreciate it. He’s been very understanding about the situation.
I wish I could show the same affection back. The same genuine care. But it's impossible.
As we turn off the lights, his gaussian-blurred face always comes close to mine, and mutters something soothing in a gentle tone.
I can never tell if my husband is trying to nuzzle me. Wink at me. Or kiss me. I never know what to say back.
I simply squeeze his hand back and stare in his general direction, hoping that it’s towards his face.
I can’t even see his eyes.

“Okay, great.” I finally put down the People Magazine and approached the front desk.
A man sat behind a plexiglass counter and typed away on his computer. At least I think it was a man. The glass was so heavily frosted, I could only make out a flesh-colored blob.
“Which office do I go to?”
The blob shifted in its seat. Its voice sounded distant and muffled. “Down the hall. To your right. Room 091.”
I did as instructed and walked down the empty hall, passing by room ‘001’.
For the next ninety rooms I simply walked forward, admiring the cleanliness of the hallway’s design. Each office had a sliding glass door and a stylish wood paneling.
I reached ‘091’ and went inside.
The door automatically closed behind me.
It was a typical doctor’s office with an examination table, some cabinets, and a poster of the human nervous system.
I sat and waited.
Through the glazed glass door, I saw a figure approach and knock on the glass. “Hello. I’m the doctor.”
I almost wanted to laugh. “Uh. Yes. Hello, I’m the patient.”
"Due to protocols, I cannot come in.”
“Alright.”
“We’ll have to talk through this door.”
Just like the receptionist, The doctor was nothing more than a blurry shadow. The shadow moved over and tapped on the wood paneling outside the office.
On the inside where I sat, a slot popped out of the wall. It was a transaction drawer—the kind you might see at a gas station late at night.
Inside was a clipboard with a survey attached.
“Please describe the symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
I grabbed the clipboard, filled everything out , and articulated my disorder as best as I could.
“This is going to sound absurd, but it feels like I’ve been trapped in this doctor’s office … my whole life. Like I know I had a life before this. With a husband and family. But I don’t know when that was. Or how I got here.”
The doctor’s silhouette stood motionless behind the glass.
“I’ve come here yelling and panicked many times, but I’m just going to speak to you honestly now. One person to another. Please. Give me something to jar me. Some kind of upper. If you could just prescribe me an intense stimulant of any kind …”
I put my face up flush with the glass, to get a better look at the doctor.
“... Then maybe I could get jolted out of this … this daze or whatever this is. Please.”
The blurry darkness nodded and scribbled something on a small pad. It was fed through the drawer.
The paper read: Ephemodexotrol. Second cabinet. Ingest full bottle.
For the first time, in what felt like many, many months, I had received a different instruction.
I got goosebumps. My breath shortened.
It took all the willpower I had to remain calm, and not show excitement.
“Thank. You.”
Once the doctor’s footsteps faded away (as they always did), I tore the second cabinet open and spilled everything to the ground. I found a bottle of yellow pills.
I cradled it against my chest. Tears streamed down my face.
Was this it? My escape?
I opened the cap and popped half the pills into my mouth. Then I ran the sink, filled the bottle with water, and chugged the rest.
This was either going to kill me, comatose me … or finally shock me out of this nightmare.
I laid down on the examination table, and within seconds got the jitters. The kind you get when you’ve had four coffees too many.
My heart beat in my eyes. My jaw became a vice grip. I could feel a tooth cracking from the pressure.
Wake up wake up wake up!
Claustrophobia sunk in. The walls seemed to breathe. As much as I wanted to let my brain drift off and reset. My body was twitching impatiently.
I had to go for a run.
Whipping the slide-door open, I bolted back down the hallway past several more rooms.
… 096, 097, 098, 099 …
The hallway opened up into a large waiting room filled with several empty chairs, a big center table, and many more copies of People Magazine.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blur behind the front desk asked.
I ignored the question and kept running, past an identical hallway with one hundred more sliding glass doors.
The banality was sickening.
Nothing ever changed.
I had long ago accepted that I must’ve gone insane.
Without stopping, I ran until I burst through the new ‘091’ office in this hallway. I likewise ripped through the second cabinet. There was another bottle of yellow pills.
Do I take the whole thing? Double the dose?
My hands decided for me. They clawed off the cap. I swallowed the whole thing like a rabid animal, and left the tap running.
Wake up wake up wake up!
I ran past the remaining offices into another waiting room. An identical copy of the thousands of others I had seen. I approached the plexiglass at the front desk.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blob’s voice came from the bottom of a well.
“Yes. I’d like to book a fucking appointment! I want to see my family again!”
I slammed the glass with both fists. The blurry figure didn’t seem to care “Alright let me see. I may have an availability in a few minutes.”
Screaming, I threw a chair at the reception. It bounced off the glass.
I threw another. It did the same.
Losing my shit wasn’t entirely new, but these drugs had now given me what felt like a limitless supply of energy. A nuclear reactor had grown inside.
I overturned every chair in the waiting room. Magazines fell to my feet. Jennifer Aniston’s face stared mockingly at me. Top Ten Dresses at Cannes 2016.
I grabbed one more chair and performed a full spin before throwing it at the reception again.
“We’ve got a spot. The doctor will see you now.”
The chair bounced off the plexiglass, and flew back at my face.
***
I awoke with wires attached to all parts of me. My eyelids felt like boulders. There was sunshine creeping into the room. It might’ve been morning.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“Is mom awake?”
“Oh my god. Is she moving?”
Person-shaped blobs surrounded all sides of my bed.
I waited for the blurriness to leave my sight, but after fully opening my eyes—my vision felt fine. I could count each individual slat on the venetian blinds. I could make out the thin green lines on the EKG monitor.
Somehow it was just the people that remained blurry.
“She may not be able to talk for a while,” one of the blobs said. Their voice sounded like it was coming through a broken phone. “She was out for quite some time.”
The other voices agreed, sounding equally muffled. Indistinguishable from each other.
“She can take all the time she needs.” The closest blob intertwined its murky limb with my fingers.
It must have been Derek. My husband. I hadn’t seen him in what felt like years.
“Don't worry honey. We’ll take care if you.” My husband-shape said. He sounded like he was speaking through a tiny, distant phone.
I tried to make out his hair, his cheekbones, or even his shoulders. But it's like his entire image had been distorted. Drowned at the bottom of some murky lake.
I think I burst into tears. I can’t remember.
***
Its now been several years since the incident, and my voice still hasn’t come back. I’ve posted this story to see if anyone else has had to cope with anything similar.
I’ve since returned to my old house and found pictures of the woman I once was. She was always smiling, always grateful for those around her. That’s sadly not me anymore.
Everyone in my life is a smeared, indiscernible shadow. Everyone’s voice has now devolved into a lost, garbled murmur. Communication is useless.
I can’t make out words.
I can't tell my kids apart from each other. Or their friends.
I can't tell my husband apart from the folds of my bed.
Each night when I go to sleep, my husband holds my hand tightly—to show that it's still him. I always appreciate it. He’s been very understanding about the situation.
I wish I could show the same affection back. The same genuine care. But it's impossible.
As we turn off the lights, his gaussian-blurred face always comes close to mine, and mutters something soothing in a gentle tone.
I can never tell if my husband is trying to nuzzle me. Wink at me. Or kiss me. I never know what to say back.
I simply squeeze his hand back and stare in his general direction, hoping that it’s towards his face.
I can’t even see his eyes.

“Okay, great.” I finally put down the People Magazine and approached the front desk.
A man sat behind a plexiglass counter and typed away on his computer. At least I think it was a man. The glass was so heavily frosted, I could only make out a flesh-colored blob.
“Which office do I go to?”
The blob shifted in its seat. Its voice sounded distant and muffled. “Down the hall. To your right. Room 091.”
I did as instructed and walked down the empty hall, passing by room ‘001’.
For the next ninety rooms I simply walked forward, admiring the cleanliness of the hallway’s design. Each office had a sliding glass door and a stylish wood paneling.
I reached ‘091’ and went inside.
The door automatically closed behind me.
It was a typical doctor’s office with an examination table, some cabinets, and a poster of the human nervous system.
I sat and waited.
Through the glazed glass door, I saw a figure approach and knock on the glass. “Hello. I’m the doctor.”
I almost wanted to laugh. “Uh. Yes. Hello, I’m the patient.”
"Due to protocols, I cannot come in.”
“Alright.”
“We’ll have to talk through this door.”
Just like the receptionist, The doctor was nothing more than a blurry shadow. The shadow moved over and tapped on the wood paneling outside the office.
On the inside where I sat, a slot popped out of the wall. It was a transaction drawer—the kind you might see at a gas station late at night.
Inside was a clipboard with a survey attached.
“Please describe the symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
I grabbed the clipboard, filled everything out , and articulated my disorder as best as I could.
“This is going to sound absurd, but it feels like I’ve been trapped in this doctor’s office … my whole life. Like I know I had a life before this. With a husband and family. But I don’t know when that was. Or how I got here.”
The doctor’s silhouette stood motionless behind the glass.
“I’ve come here yelling and panicked many times, but I’m just going to speak to you honestly now. One person to another. Please. Give me something to jar me. Some kind of upper. If you could just prescribe me an intense stimulant of any kind …”
I put my face up flush with the glass, to get a better look at the doctor.
“... Then maybe I could get jolted out of this … this daze or whatever this is. Please.”
The blurry darkness nodded and scribbled something on a small pad. It was fed through the drawer.
The paper read: Ephemodexotrol. Second cabinet. Ingest full bottle.
For the first time, in what felt like many, many months, I had received a different instruction.
I got goosebumps. My breath shortened.
It took all the willpower I had to remain calm, and not show excitement.
“Thank. You.”
Once the doctor’s footsteps faded away (as they always did), I tore the second cabinet open and spilled everything to the ground. I found a bottle of yellow pills.
I cradled it against my chest. Tears streamed down my face.
Was this it? My escape?
I opened the cap and popped half the pills into my mouth. Then I ran the sink, filled the bottle with water, and chugged the rest.
This was either going to kill me, comatose me … or finally shock me out of this nightmare.
I laid down on the examination table, and within seconds got the jitters. The kind you get when you’ve had four coffees too many.
My heart beat in my eyes. My jaw became a vice grip. I could feel a tooth cracking from the pressure.
Wake up wake up wake up!
Claustrophobia sunk in. The walls seemed to breathe. As much as I wanted to let my brain drift off and reset. My body was twitching impatiently.
I had to go for a run.
Whipping the slide-door open, I bolted back down the hallway past several more rooms.
… 096, 097, 098, 099 …
The hallway opened up into a large waiting room filled with several empty chairs, a big center table, and many more copies of People Magazine.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blur behind the front desk asked.
I ignored the question and kept running, past an identical hallway with one hundred more sliding glass doors.
The banality was sickening.
Nothing ever changed.
I had long ago accepted that I must’ve gone insane.
Without stopping, I ran until I burst through the new ‘091’ office in this hallway. I likewise ripped through the second cabinet. There was another bottle of yellow pills.
Do I take the whole thing? Double the dose?
My hands decided for me. They clawed off the cap. I swallowed the whole thing like a rabid animal, and left the tap running.
Wake up wake up wake up!
I ran past the remaining offices into another waiting room. An identical copy of the thousands of others I had seen. I approached the plexiglass at the front desk.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blob’s voice came from the bottom of a well.
“Yes. I’d like to book a fucking appointment! I want to see my family again!”
I slammed the glass with both fists. The blurry figure didn’t seem to care “Alright let me see. I may have an availability in a few minutes.”
Screaming, I threw a chair at the reception. It bounced off the glass.
I threw another. It did the same.
Losing my shit wasn’t entirely new, but these drugs had now given me what felt like a limitless supply of energy. A nuclear reactor had grown inside.
I overturned every chair in the waiting room. Magazines fell to my feet. Jennifer Aniston’s face stared mockingly at me. Top Ten Dresses at Cannes 2016.
I grabbed one more chair and performed a full spin before throwing it at the reception again.
“We’ve got a spot. The doctor will see you now.”
The chair bounced off the plexiglass, and flew back at my face.
***
I awoke with wires attached to all parts of me. My eyelids felt like boulders. There was sunshine creeping into the room. It might’ve been morning.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“Is mom awake?”
“Oh my god. Is she moving?”
Person-shaped blobs surrounded all sides of my bed.
I waited for the blurriness to leave my sight, but after fully opening my eyes—my vision felt fine. I could count each individual slat on the venetian blinds. I could make out the thin green lines on the EKG monitor.
Somehow it was just the people that remained blurry.
“She may not be able to talk for a while,” one of the blobs said. Their voice sounded like it was coming through a broken phone. “She was out for quite some time.”
The other voices agreed, sounding equally muffled. Indistinguishable from each other.
“She can take all the time she needs.” The closest blob intertwined its murky limb with my fingers.
It must have been Derek. My husband. I hadn’t seen him in what felt like years.
“Don't worry honey. We’ll take care if you.” My husband-shape said. He sounded like he was speaking through a tiny, distant phone.
I tried to make out his hair, his cheekbones, or even his shoulders. But it's like his entire image had been distorted. Drowned at the bottom of some murky lake.
I think I burst into tears. I can’t remember.
***
Its now been several years since the incident, and my voice still hasn’t come back. I’ve posted this story to see if anyone else has had to cope with anything similar.
I’ve since returned to my old house and found pictures of the woman I once was. She was always smiling, always grateful for those around her. That’s sadly not me anymore.
Everyone in my life is a smeared, indiscernible shadow. Everyone’s voice has now devolved into a lost, garbled murmur. Communication is useless.
I can’t make out words.
I can't tell my kids apart from each other. Or their friends.
I can't tell my husband apart from the folds of my bed.
Each night when I go to sleep, my husband holds my hand tightly—to show that it's still him. I always appreciate it. He’s been very understanding about the situation.
I wish I could show the same affection back. The same genuine care. But it's impossible.
As we turn off the lights, his gaussian-blurred face always comes close to mine, and mutters something soothing in a gentle tone.
I can never tell if my husband is trying to nuzzle me. Wink at me. Or kiss me. I never know what to say back.
I simply squeeze his hand back and stare in his general direction, hoping that it’s towards his face.
I can’t even see his eyes.

“Okay, great.” I finally put down the People Magazine and approached the front desk.
A man sat behind a plexiglass counter and typed away on his computer. At least I think it was a man. The glass was so heavily frosted, I could only make out a flesh-colored blob.
“Which office do I go to?”
The blob shifted in its seat. Its voice sounded distant and muffled. “Down the hall. To your right. Room 091.”
I did as instructed and walked down the empty hall, passing by room ‘001’.
For the next ninety rooms I simply walked forward, admiring the cleanliness of the hallway’s design. Each office had a sliding glass door and a stylish wood paneling.
I reached ‘091’ and went inside.
The door automatically closed behind me.
It was a typical doctor’s office with an examination table, some cabinets, and a poster of the human nervous system.
I sat and waited.
Through the glazed glass door, I saw a figure approach and knock on the glass. “Hello. I’m the doctor.”
I almost wanted to laugh. “Uh. Yes. Hello, I’m the patient.”
"Due to protocols, I cannot come in.”
“Alright.”
“We’ll have to talk through this door.”
Just like the receptionist, The doctor was nothing more than a blurry shadow. The shadow moved over and tapped on the wood paneling outside the office.
On the inside where I sat, a slot popped out of the wall. It was a transaction drawer—the kind you might see at a gas station late at night.
Inside was a clipboard with a survey attached.
“Please describe the symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
I grabbed the clipboard, filled everything out , and articulated my disorder as best as I could.
“This is going to sound absurd, but it feels like I’ve been trapped in this doctor’s office … my whole life. Like I know I had a life before this. With a husband and family. But I don’t know when that was. Or how I got here.”
The doctor’s silhouette stood motionless behind the glass.
“I’ve come here yelling and panicked many times, but I’m just going to speak to you honestly now. One person to another. Please. Give me something to jar me. Some kind of upper. If you could just prescribe me an intense stimulant of any kind …”
I put my face up flush with the glass, to get a better look at the doctor.
“... Then maybe I could get jolted out of this … this daze or whatever this is. Please.”
The blurry darkness nodded and scribbled something on a small pad. It was fed through the drawer.
The paper read: Ephemodexotrol. Second cabinet. Ingest full bottle.
For the first time, in what felt like many, many months, I had received a different instruction.
I got goosebumps. My breath shortened.
It took all the willpower I had to remain calm, and not show excitement.
“Thank. You.”
Once the doctor’s footsteps faded away (as they always did), I tore the second cabinet open and spilled everything to the ground. I found a bottle of yellow pills.
I cradled it against my chest. Tears streamed down my face.
Was this it? My escape?
I opened the cap and popped half the pills into my mouth. Then I ran the sink, filled the bottle with water, and chugged the rest.
This was either going to kill me, comatose me … or finally shock me out of this nightmare.
I laid down on the examination table, and within seconds got the jitters. The kind you get when you’ve had four coffees too many.
My heart beat in my eyes. My jaw became a vice grip. I could feel a tooth cracking from the pressure.
Wake up wake up wake up!
Claustrophobia sunk in. The walls seemed to breathe. As much as I wanted to let my brain drift off and reset. My body was twitching impatiently.
I had to go for a run.
Whipping the slide-door open, I bolted back down the hallway past several more rooms.
… 096, 097, 098, 099 …
The hallway opened up into a large waiting room filled with several empty chairs, a big center table, and many more copies of People Magazine.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blur behind the front desk asked.
I ignored the question and kept running, past an identical hallway with one hundred more sliding glass doors.
The banality was sickening.
Nothing ever changed.
I had long ago accepted that I must’ve gone insane.
Without stopping, I ran until I burst through the new ‘091’ office in this hallway. I likewise ripped through the second cabinet. There was another bottle of yellow pills.
Do I take the whole thing? Double the dose?
My hands decided for me. They clawed off the cap. I swallowed the whole thing like a rabid animal, and left the tap running.
Wake up wake up wake up!
I ran past the remaining offices into another waiting room. An identical copy of the thousands of others I had seen. I approached the plexiglass at the front desk.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blob’s voice came from the bottom of a well.
“Yes. I’d like to book a fucking appointment! I want to see my family again!”
I slammed the glass with both fists. The blurry figure didn’t seem to care “Alright let me see. I may have an availability in a few minutes.”
Screaming, I threw a chair at the reception. It bounced off the glass.
I threw another. It did the same.
Losing my shit wasn’t entirely new, but these drugs had now given me what felt like a limitless supply of energy. A nuclear reactor had grown inside.
I overturned every chair in the waiting room. Magazines fell to my feet. Jennifer Aniston’s face stared mockingly at me. Top Ten Dresses at Cannes 2016.
I grabbed one more chair and performed a full spin before throwing it at the reception again.
“We’ve got a spot. The doctor will see you now.”
The chair bounced off the plexiglass, and flew back at my face.
***
I awoke with wires attached to all parts of me. My eyelids felt like boulders. There was sunshine creeping into the room. It might’ve been morning.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“Is mom awake?”
“Oh my god. Is she moving?”
Person-shaped blobs surrounded all sides of my bed.
I waited for the blurriness to leave my sight, but after fully opening my eyes—my vision felt fine. I could count each individual slat on the venetian blinds. I could make out the thin green lines on the EKG monitor.
Somehow it was just the people that remained blurry.
“She may not be able to talk for a while,” one of the blobs said. Their voice sounded like it was coming through a broken phone. “She was out for quite some time.”
The other voices agreed, sounding equally muffled. Indistinguishable from each other.
“She can take all the time she needs.” The closest blob intertwined its murky limb with my fingers.
It must have been Derek. My husband. I hadn’t seen him in what felt like years.
“Don't worry honey. We’ll take care if you.” My husband-shape said. He sounded like he was speaking through a tiny, distant phone.
I tried to make out his hair, his cheekbones, or even his shoulders. But it's like his entire image had been distorted. Drowned at the bottom of some murky lake.
I think I burst into tears. I can’t remember.
***
Its now been several years since the incident, and my voice still hasn’t come back. I’ve posted this story to see if anyone else has had to cope with anything similar.
I’ve since returned to my old house and found pictures of the woman I once was. She was always smiling, always grateful for those around her. That’s sadly not me anymore.
Everyone in my life is a smeared, indiscernible shadow. Everyone’s voice has now devolved into a lost, garbled murmur. Communication is useless.
I can’t make out words.
I can't tell my kids apart from each other. Or their friends.
I can't tell my husband apart from the folds of my bed.
Each night when I go to sleep, my husband holds my hand tightly—to show that it's still him. I always appreciate it. He’s been very understanding about the situation.
I wish I could show the same affection back. The same genuine care. But it's impossible.
As we turn off the lights, his gaussian-blurred face always comes close to mine, and mutters something soothing in a gentle tone.
I can never tell if my husband is trying to nuzzle me. Wink at me. Or kiss me. I never know what to say back.
I simply squeeze his hand back and stare in his general direction, hoping that it’s towards his face.
I can’t even see his eyes.

“Okay, great.” I finally put down the People Magazine and approached the front desk.
A man sat behind a plexiglass counter and typed away on his computer. At least I think it was a man. The glass was so heavily frosted, I could only make out a flesh-colored blob.
“Which office do I go to?”
The blob shifted in its seat. Its voice sounded distant and muffled. “Down the hall. To your right. Room 091.”
I did as instructed and walked down the empty hall, passing by room ‘001’.
For the next ninety rooms I simply walked forward, admiring the cleanliness of the hallway’s design. Each office had a sliding glass door and a stylish wood paneling.
I reached ‘091’ and went inside.
The door automatically closed behind me.
It was a typical doctor’s office with an examination table, some cabinets, and a poster of the human nervous system.
I sat and waited.
Through the glazed glass door, I saw a figure approach and knock on the glass. “Hello. I’m the doctor.”
I almost wanted to laugh. “Uh. Yes. Hello, I’m the patient.”
"Due to protocols, I cannot come in.”
“Alright.”
“We’ll have to talk through this door.”
Just like the receptionist, The doctor was nothing more than a blurry shadow. The shadow moved over and tapped on the wood paneling outside the office.
On the inside where I sat, a slot popped out of the wall. It was a transaction drawer—the kind you might see at a gas station late at night.
Inside was a clipboard with a survey attached.
“Please describe the symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
I grabbed the clipboard, filled everything out , and articulated my disorder as best as I could.
“This is going to sound absurd, but it feels like I’ve been trapped in this doctor’s office … my whole life. Like I know I had a life before this. With a husband and family. But I don’t know when that was. Or how I got here.”
The doctor’s silhouette stood motionless behind the glass.
“I’ve come here yelling and panicked many times, but I’m just going to speak to you honestly now. One person to another. Please. Give me something to jar me. Some kind of upper. If you could just prescribe me an intense stimulant of any kind …”
I put my face up flush with the glass, to get a better look at the doctor.
“... Then maybe I could get jolted out of this … this daze or whatever this is. Please.”
The blurry darkness nodded and scribbled something on a small pad. It was fed through the drawer.
The paper read: Ephemodexotrol. Second cabinet. Ingest full bottle.
For the first time, in what felt like many, many months, I had received a different instruction.
I got goosebumps. My breath shortened.
It took all the willpower I had to remain calm, and not show excitement.
“Thank. You.”
Once the doctor’s footsteps faded away (as they always did), I tore the second cabinet open and spilled everything to the ground. I found a bottle of yellow pills.
I cradled it against my chest. Tears streamed down my face.
Was this it? My escape?
I opened the cap and popped half the pills into my mouth. Then I ran the sink, filled the bottle with water, and chugged the rest.
This was either going to kill me, comatose me … or finally shock me out of this nightmare.
I laid down on the examination table, and within seconds got the jitters. The kind you get when you’ve had four coffees too many.
My heart beat in my eyes. My jaw became a vice grip. I could feel a tooth cracking from the pressure.
Wake up wake up wake up!
Claustrophobia sunk in. The walls seemed to breathe. As much as I wanted to let my brain drift off and reset. My body was twitching impatiently.
I had to go for a run.
Whipping the slide-door open, I bolted back down the hallway past several more rooms.
… 096, 097, 098, 099 …
The hallway opened up into a large waiting room filled with several empty chairs, a big center table, and many more copies of People Magazine.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blur behind the front desk asked.
I ignored the question and kept running, past an identical hallway with one hundred more sliding glass doors.
The banality was sickening.
Nothing ever changed.
I had long ago accepted that I must’ve gone insane.
Without stopping, I ran until I burst through the new ‘091’ office in this hallway. I likewise ripped through the second cabinet. There was another bottle of yellow pills.
Do I take the whole thing? Double the dose?
My hands decided for me. They clawed off the cap. I swallowed the whole thing like a rabid animal, and left the tap running.
Wake up wake up wake up!
I ran past the remaining offices into another waiting room. An identical copy of the thousands of others I had seen. I approached the plexiglass at the front desk.
“Would you like to book an appointment?” The blob’s voice came from the bottom of a well.
“Yes. I’d like to book a fucking appointment! I want to see my family again!”
I slammed the glass with both fists. The blurry figure didn’t seem to care “Alright let me see. I may have an availability in a few minutes.”
Screaming, I threw a chair at the reception. It bounced off the glass.
I threw another. It did the same.
Losing my shit wasn’t entirely new, but these drugs had now given me what felt like a limitless supply of energy. A nuclear reactor had grown inside.
I overturned every chair in the waiting room. Magazines fell to my feet. Jennifer Aniston’s face stared mockingly at me. Top Ten Dresses at Cannes 2016.
I grabbed one more chair and performed a full spin before throwing it at the reception again.
“We’ve got a spot. The doctor will see you now.”
The chair bounced off the plexiglass, and flew back at my face.
***
I awoke with wires attached to all parts of me. My eyelids felt like boulders. There was sunshine creeping into the room. It might’ve been morning.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“Is mom awake?”
“Oh my god. Is she moving?”
Person-shaped blobs surrounded all sides of my bed.
I waited for the blurriness to leave my sight, but after fully opening my eyes—my vision felt fine. I could count each individual slat on the venetian blinds. I could make out the thin green lines on the EKG monitor.
Somehow it was just the people that remained blurry.
“She may not be able to talk for a while,” one of the blobs said. Their voice sounded like it was coming through a broken phone. “She was out for quite some time.”
The other voices agreed, sounding equally muffled. Indistinguishable from each other.
“She can take all the time she needs.” The closest blob intertwined its murky limb with my fingers.
It must have been Derek. My husband. I hadn’t seen him in what felt like years.
“Don't worry honey. We’ll take care if you.” My husband-shape said. He sounded like he was speaking through a tiny, distant phone.
I tried to make out his hair, his cheekbones, or even his shoulders. But it's like his entire image had been distorted. Drowned at the bottom of some murky lake.
I think I burst into tears. I can’t remember.
***
Its now been several years since the incident, and my voice still hasn’t come back. I’ve posted this story to see if anyone else has had to cope with anything similar.
I’ve since returned to my old house and found pictures of the woman I once was. She was always smiling, always grateful for those around her. That’s sadly not me anymore.
Everyone in my life is a smeared, indiscernible shadow. Everyone’s voice has now devolved into a lost, garbled murmur. Communication is useless.
I can’t make out words.
I can't tell my kids apart from each other. Or their friends.
I can't tell my husband apart from the folds of my bed.
Each night when I go to sleep, my husband holds my hand tightly—to show that it's still him. I always appreciate it. He’s been very understanding about the situation.
I wish I could show the same affection back. The same genuine care. But it's impossible.
As we turn off the lights, his gaussian-blurred face always comes close to mine, and mutters something soothing in a gentle tone.
I can never tell if my husband is trying to nuzzle me. Wink at me. Or kiss me. I never know what to say back.
I simply squeeze his hand back and stare in his general direction, hoping that it’s towards his face.
I can’t even see his eyes.

So as title, I've been feeling worse the last month, much lower energy, almost no motivation, very bad mood. Two days ago I had a tight neck after eating only carrots and blueberries. After searching about carrots and histamine intolerance, it seems they are high in oxalates, which can cause all sort of histamine-like symptoms.
I introduced back carrots in my diet around two months ago. Also I've been having some dark chocolate last two weeks, because of cravings, and some bleached almonds, which have magnesium, to try to see if they fixed the choco cravings, both cocoa and almonds are high oxalates. Now I have to remove them along with sweet potatoes, and ginger and curcumin which I used as condiments.
There's not much I can eat now. I removed histamine (low DAO genetic and in blood) and lectins because I reacted very strongly to them, specially gluten. What can I eat now? Carbs: white rice, millet, sorghum. Meat: chicken, turkey, beef and fish (pork gives me very bad reactions). Vegetables: broccoli (I hope I don't react to salicylates as well, I would have to remove the main vegetable I eat), artichokes, brussel sprouts, cauliflower, red cabbage, endives, radishes, chives.
I've been reading on oxalates and their relationship to histamine intolerance, but I don't seem to grasp exactly why I have both. The only thing I can think of is that I have a damaged gut. Which I have, I did a gut dysbiosis feces analysis last year at I had dysbiosis and elevated zonulin (but not too elevated, you see).
Yesterday I eliminated the carrots, ginger and curcumin. Today I feel so, so much better. I have loads more energy. I even had a lower eyelid twitching since last week, and today I haven't had it at all. I'm in a much much better mood, like a dark cloud has been lifted. So, it seems that somehow I react to oxalates. I'm reading a lot, but I still have some doubts that come to mind:

• In the trusted lab I go for my analytics, they have an urine test that measures "oxalic acid", is it a good measure to see if my body has high oxalates? If so, I could fill the 24-hour urine sample tomorrow and take them to the lab the next day. If I stopped oxalates yesterday, is it worth it to do this test?
• Is there any other way to measure my gut health to see if I'm getting better? I have done before a gut dysbiosis test, including zonulin, and a SIBO test. My feces were liquid since a long time ago and this year they are getting more solid. I can tolerate some quantity of lectins (I don't consume them regularly, only once in a blue moon to see how I react to them).
• Is there any good resource to learn how to heal my gut? I was taking L-Glutamine but in a test my GPT ALAT came very high and I stopped the L-Glut since it seems to be quite hard on the liver. It seems my gut is slowly healing (or was, before I introduced carrots), but it's painfully slow. I can muster the discipline to eat only a few foods all the time, but it'd be cool if there were some other stuff I could do to accelerate the healing.
• Is there anything else you think I should do or know?

Thanks, people. Good gut health to you all!

I'm not diagnosed with anything, just trying to figure out what kind of doctor I should even see now and whether it's even possible this could be from a neuroma.
Basically my right upper eyelid has had a continuous muscle twitch for a year straight. It's like a lateral squeezing in the muscle and almost feels electrical if I put my finger on it. Muscle just keeps getting the impulse to contract. Several months ago it also "spread" to my left upper eyelid, but was mostly going off only in response to me closing my eye. I started eating bananas every day and supplementing all kinds of crap which I felt weakened the intensity of the right twitch (but NEVER gone) and left side symptoms have faded to the extent I'm not sure it's there anymore, but I think still very weakly. Right side just keeps on going and wouldn't even call it weaker anymore, strength seems to vary daily.
Today at like 5am I woke up and like a switch I suddenly had high pitched continuous tinnitis a few minutes later (it's weak but I notice it heavily when it's quiet) and it's stayed like that for 11 hours now. I think it's in my left ear but it's honestly hard to tell. This got me searching for tinnitis + eye twitch and now I'm here.
Maybe also relevant but in the past I've had years long episodes of tensor tympani syndrome (twitching tensor tympani muscle) in BOTH ears, most recently in the left ear, but I don't have it now.
Has anyone with an acoustic neuroma experienced eye twitching before tinnitis? Can a neuroma affect both sides or it should all be one sided? I have an oculoplasty consult for the eye twitch to get Botox but that's a bandaid and would rather figure out WHY this is happening for a year, and now the tinnitis. For record I'm 44F. Thanks all!

Preface - Lumian went to City of Exiles to search for remaining body parts of contracted creature, after securing them and temporarily sealing 0-01 by the means and method provided by Madam Magician, Lumian leaves the City of Exiles.\ \ Fool's Return\ \ The moment Lumian left the City of Exile, he was dragged into unfamiliar place, what greeted him wasn't the familiar sight of Madam Magician in orange dress. When his vision cleared from dizziness, what met his eyes was figure dressed in black armor that seemed to be splashed with blood, he had red hair that resembled fire, looking young and handsome. Standing few meter away from this was an old man wearing a black robe with a hood. His eyes are as dark as the water without light. The white beard on "His" mouth is long and dense. Lumian recognised the former, swiftpy guessed about the latter recalling the things Madam Magician had said in their past meetings.\ \ Red Angel Medici and Zaratul!\ \ "If I had entered City of Exile myself, I would not be able to return unscathed." The figure in black armor said.\ "But you, despite how insignificant you are, with the blessing of hypocritic 'Him', your chances of success is beyong that of anyone below demigod."\ "Hypocritic 'Him' might think I would not dare to interfere after realising that 'Him' nurturning you to become Red Priest but 'His' condition is laughable at the moment. I could have killed you thousands of time before this moment"\ "But that would be such a waste given the premise that you would be able to retrieve 0-01."\ "Whatever dream is 'Him' having right now, It would be interesting to see 'His' even if it is in dream."\ Hearing all that, Lumian's eyelids twitched uncontrollably, So, this is the man who stands at the peak of Hunter pathway He thought. At that moment, Zaratul began controlling Lumian's spirit body threads.\ 3 secons, 2 seconds, 1 seconds.... Zaratul gained initial control\ Lumian's thoughts turn sluggish, he couldnt react in time, nor he would be able to, his opponents were King of Angel and Zaratul, who have reached the status of Sequence 1 Angel with the boon from Celestial Worthy. So....this is.....as far....as i....go, among sluggish thoughts lumian's pupil reflected starlight door.\ \ Madam Magician.\ \ Evem though, Medici and Zaratul had used all available means at their disposal to seal the space, it only took couple of seconds for Planeswalker to infliterate it.\ As soon as Fors entered the isolated space, she motioned the right hand as if trying to grab something. She pulled out a figure dressed in black trench coat and half top hat.\ \ Gehrman Sparrow!\ Fors had kept one last Historical Projection Summoning Spell for this very moment. Unlike pas times, this crazy pirates eyes didnt gain life, this crazy angel followed the will of summoner and his own instinct, severing to Zaratul's control of Lumian's spirirt body threads, making them trace back to their origins, and immediately engaging Zaratul on combat.\ It was long awaited rematch of two seers, what follow next would be card game beyong the realm of understanding.\ Fors, as a mere sequence 2, had no way of hope to stall Medici, who was true King of Angel, but she was not hopeless, she was planeswalker after all. She started flickering , creating countless replica of herself, making medici to lock on her. All thats left was to wait for other partys outside to notice the abnormalities in correspond coordinates wherever this place was.\ For's plan would go flawlessly if she was up against any other foe, her foe this time was none other than Medici, the very symbol of war and destruction itself. Medici, using his authority, instantly lighten the entire space in red flames, burning everything that lay within the permies. With the exaggregated consumption of spirit energy from summoning Gehrman Sparrow and what subsequently followed, the real battle between two seer. Fors, swiftly made decision and decided to escape with Lumian.\ One of her image sppeared near lumian and started tearing the space but it immediately faded away.\ The space she teared was distorted by external force, it was indistinct figure wearing royal dress. Gehrman's projection had disappeared, who was continuously summoning angels to battle Zaratul, resulted on total exhaustion of spirit energy of Fors in less than minute.\ \ Checkmate!\ \ Is this as far as I go? Fors couldnt help but thought, she knew what would follow next. If it was Medici alone, she would be able to escape swiftly but her opponent was seer, who held the ability to summon several angels that could interfere with her abilities. All threads of hope seemed to have severed.\ \ "Aren't you going to call for help? recite 'His' name? I wonder how hypocritical 'Him' face look when 'He' realises how miserably you died." with those words Red Angel Medici took out Flaming Long Red Borad sword and charg toward Fors.\ \ After moving few stride, 'He' stopped, looked around in daze face as if trying to reacll what was he doing. All the projections summoned by Zaratul had vanished. Zaratul and the same look as Red Angel. Fors, whose face was in despair split of seconds ago, now was in confusion as well. Lumian was rendered useless moment he entered this space, even though he kept consciousness as his status of fake angel, he was not in any ways capable of joining the battle, he regained his senses, he, as well, was trying to remember what was he doing.\ At the same time, space , which force was trying tore , begun to appeared once again. Without wasting moment, force grabbed Lumian and left immediately. She wouldn't want to know what happened nor she had any wish to do so, she had long exhausted her spirituality.\ In the isolated space, before Red Angel and Zaraturl regained 'Their' senses, several starlight doorways to here, opened and closed swiftly. When 'They' regained their senses, Angel of Door pathway, boy from Cordu disaster and 0-01 , all had disappeared. Just when 'They' were about to follow the pursuit, a familiar voice sounded on their ears.\ \ "We meet again, medici, zaratul."\ \ Figure, shaped like covered its entirety in dark hood had appeafed at some time before either of them could notice.\ \ After almost 7 years, The Fool, have returned.

We were lucky to survive. That was what I believed.
When I woke in the hospital bed, I dismissed my broken wrist and the pulsating pain in my stitched brow. I was simply relieved that James was sitting by my bedside, holding my hand. His face bore a few cuts and bruises, but he was alive. And the wounds were shallow. Barely scrapes. My husband looked well. Far better than I looked.
“Lillian,” He smiled. “You’re awake.”
I sobbed, clutching his hand tightly.
“Do you remember what happened?” My husband asked.
I gulped. “We were driving home… We… There was a bridge. You swerved because… I don’t know. We crashed.”
James nodded solemnly, though his demeanour felt strange to me. “I’m so sorry, Lillian. I took my eyes off the road, and–”
“– Are you okay?” I interrupted. “Did… something else happen?”
James tilted his head in an odd manner. “What do you mean?”
I frowned. “You keep calling me Lillian.”
“That’s your name, isn’t it?” He replied in an emotionless tone.
“You never call me anything but Lil,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “So… Why are you being weird?”
James paused, as if cogs were whirring in his brain. “Well, I was just… thinking.”
“Thinking?” I asked.
He nodded. “Thinking about why we crashed.”
I gulped. “I remember that there was something in the road…”
James’ mouth twitched. “They never found anything. No animal or body.”
I suddenly felt very foolish. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to… Of course you’re not yourself. This must’ve been traumatic for you.”
And that was all the excuse my husband needed. He didn’t get any better.
The first truly strange experience took place a week or so later, after I was released from the hospital and returned home. I stirred in the middle of the night, neck hairs pricking my pillow. Like those alert strands, I rose to attention, and my eyelids flew apart. I didn’t know why, at first, but then I felt it. A thick cloud of breath, reeking of festering sewage, that weighed against my flesh.
It didn’t smell like the man I loved, but when I rolled over, James was certainly the one breathing heavily. My husband lay on his back, stiff as a board, but his eyes were facing me. Eyes wide open.
“Honey…?” I asked timidly.
James didn’t reply. He was locked onto me, seemingly unable to blink, and then he suddenly held his breath. Caught himself mid-exhale and twisted his head to face the ceiling above. His eyes didn’t close.
And his breathing didn’t resume.
We lay there for an hour. Not a sound came from my husband. At the time, I didn’t believe that he’d truly been holding his breath for an hour. I told myself that it had all been a dream. Or sleep deprivation had muddled my brain.
Take your pick, Lillian. Either way, you’ve lost it, I fearfully and unconvincingly told myself.
I must’ve eventually fallen asleep because I woke with a fuzzy brain and an empty bed. I planned to ask James what was wrong when he got home, but I didn’t. I didn’t have the stomach for it. Something was different about my husband, and it wasn’t trauma. No, it was something more than that. I feared him, and I didn’t even have a good reason for doing so.
But I would.
When I first saw it, my brain did nothing with the information. I was getting ready for work. Running on autopilot. Very little is processed by my morning brain. It was whilst I tucked into my sandwich at lunch that a thought violently burst into my brain.
What the fuck was next to the sink?
I remembered that I’d been grimacing whilst brushing my teeth. James isn’t the most hygienic man in the world, so it’s not unusual for me to turn my nose up at the mess and muck he leaves in his wake. However, I hadn’t recoiled at the sight of facial hair or spilled toothpaste. The filth had been a small, mushy smear of red and brown. Something that I was struggling to place, even whilst recalling it with a clear head.
I’d been too tired to clean it up. Too distracted by thoughts of ongoing work projects and upcoming meetings. Upon finally slamming the brakes, and deactivating ‘unconscious mode’, I processed everything. The disgust of whatever I’d seen. But an idea came to me. It sparked a euphoric rush that quickly replaced the fear — the sensation of solving a niggling mystery.
“It was a squashed bug!” I whispered, chuckling as I realised that I’d spoken aloud and drawn attention from confused co-workers.
How silly of me, I thought. Why on Earth was I anxious? Was I honestly flustered about James squishing an insect? Come on, Lillian. You’ve done that a thousand times. You’ll clean it up later. Or ask him to do it. But it’s no big deal. Relax.
I tried to stop berating myself. It was my first day back at work, after all, and I was still recovering from a severe car accident. I shouldn’t have diminished the struggle of recovering from the emotional and physical strain that came with the crash. It had bludgeoned my overall well-being. Yes, I’d survived. Yes, I’d physically healed. But a near brush with death will psychologically derail even the most stable and well-adjusted person.
It might even make one believe that something has happened to her husband, I thought, sighing.
I felt so foolish. So dramatic, as always, for letting emotions rule me. James had been so patient, in spite of my mistrust, and I felt incredibly guilty for doubting him. So, I thought about what I could do to make amends.
A Thai takeaway and Donnie Darko. His favourite food, and his favourite film. The perfect solution. That would mend the recent rift in our relationship. I was certain of it.
The rest of the work day raced by as I eagerly anticipated the romantic evening I was planning in my head. An evening that would put the unpleasantness of the previous week behind us. I dropped James a text telling him that dinner was going to blow his socks off.
I’m hungry.
That was his slightly blunt response. A little peculiar, and verging on rude, depending on how a person interprets it, but I chose to interpret it positively.
On my drive home, I almost ran a red light in excitement. I find talk of ‘love languages’ a little cringe-worthy, but I suppose, if I were to slap a label on myself, I’d be a gift-giver. That’s how I show my feelings. I was eager to make everything better. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d driven James to behave strangely by behaving strangely myself. I hadn’t displayed love or affection in the ways I usually did.
You’re such a tool, I thought as I pulled onto the driveway.
I dialled the number for the local takeaway whilst I walked up the front path, and the order was placed before I’d even slipped off my black loafers. I scurried around the lounge, making the room look warm, inviting, and romantic. Then I waited for James and the delivery driver. Both should’ve arrived within half an hour of me arriving home.
After an hour without any sign of either, I started to worry and called James. He didn’t answer.
“Are you okay, honey?” I asked, leaving a worried voicemail. “I know I’ve been a little off this week, but it’s been… Well, you know that it’s been strange. And I want to make up for that. Please. Look, I don’t want to spoil anything, but I’ve got a lovely surprise for you here, so if you–”
Knocking interrupted me.
“– Sorry, the takeaway’s finally here… That was a ridiculously-long wait. I thought you’d be here by now, but don’t worry. I’ll heat up the food when you get home. I just… hope you’ve not been held up at work. Love you,” I sighed, hanging up.
I answered the door to Mike. The usual acne-ridden teenager who did the deliveries for the Thai place. He was the kid of a neighbour at the end of the road. We’d known him for years. And I could see that something was different about him. It was a primal sensation. A feeling beyond fear. It was a warning from my brain. A warning that my eyes were unable to comprehend what they were seeing. My body was unable to comprehend what it was feeling.
There was nothing natural about Mike. And that only became clearer once he smiled with outstretched hands. Hands which trembled with fear or exhilaration. I didn’t know which one, and I wasn’t sure which would be worse.
“Got your food,” He whispered.
I smiled uncomfortably. “Yes, I… I see that, Mike. Thank you… Give my best to your mother, won’t you?”
I saw something which I wish I could erase from my mind. Something I wish I could erase from reality.
A shape swam out of his mouth. It was not a tongue running between chapped, crusty lips. It was a small, slithery, brown thing. A living thing, followed by an identical companion.
A frightened sound unwillingly emerged from the pit of my body, and I quickly clasped one hand to my mouth whilst hurriedly using the other to snatch the plastic bag from the boy. It was too late. I’d already reacted. The look in my eyes. The hand on my lips. I didn’t exactly hide my fear. And there’d been no point in silencing myself. He’d already heard my reaction. Seen that I’d seen. Not that I had any way of knowing what I’d seen.
I wish I still had that privilege.
The teenager responded to my sound of horror with a slight giggle. A giggle that grew as I slowly began to shut the door. I was too afraid to slam it in a swift motion, in case the boy on my doorstep were to react dangerously. He haunted me. And in the sliver of the ajar door, moments before I closed it, I saw something else.
Wriggling shapes. Red worms, like the ones I’d seen on the boy’s lips, began to burst through the blemishes on his face. They slipped through petrifying pimples that weren’t really pimples at all. Just as that thing wasn’t Mike at all.
I finally closed the door and locked it, whilst my heart thumped without rhythm. I could hear the boy breathing on the other side of the door, and my body shook. I thought about calling the police. Thought about screaming at him to go away.
“He didn’t want the delivery…” Mike tittered erratically.
Footsteps padded away, and I tried to process what the boy had said. It made no sense. The haunting pieces of the puzzle were there, but nothing meant anything. Not until James spoke.
“Didn’t you hear me, sweetie?” My husband cooed.
The unexpected voice struck my heart with a thunderous bolt of fear, and I spun around to see James standing in the doorway to the living room. His face was clumsily painted with a smile that looked poorly-learnt — as if he had never seen true joy. Never seen a true person. It was a terrifying performance from a thing that had walked among humans for a week. I knew then what I’d suspected for days.
This was not my husband.
“Hear… what?” I whimpered, stalling for time as I fumbled with the door handle behind me.
“Hear me come home, Lillian,” He chuckled. “I told the delivery boy we wouldn’t be needing the food… I see you’ve collected it anyway. That’s fine. I know how it feels to be hungry.”
“Listen, sweetie, I–”
His hand shot to the light switch, and the lobby was plunged into darkness. I yelped in fright, dropping the bag to the floor, and James’ heavy shoes clomped across the tiles towards me.
I screamed as fingers gripped my shoulders, and the thing with my husband’s face tossed me to the ground like a limp doll. He climbed on top of me, suffocating me beneath his inexplicable weight. I saw very little in the darkness, but I felt that awful breath on my pupils — a mouldy, earthy aroma that slithered under my eyelids. Staleness looking for somewhere cosy to hibernate.
That was how I chose to understand it as I squinted at James’ eyes in the blackness. Eyes which spilled a torrent of dark liquid. A squirming liquid, breaking into solid parts. Ravenous creatures were tumbling out of every discernible orifice, and I knew that these things had claimed James' body as a home. His mind too. I wondered whether, inside his body, there might be nothing left but those dreadful creatures. No bones or organs. Simply worms. Creatures that had filled the delivery boy in the same way.
Creatures that were on the verge of taking me.
“NO!” I screamed.
My hand wrapped around the base of the nearby coat-stand, and I yanked. It toppled onto James’ head. He flew backwards, disappearing into the darkness, and I immediately leapt to my feet, shrieking as I felt something slip from my cheek — something that had been all-too-close to entering one of my nostrils. I opened the front door, and everything came flooding back to me.
As I ran into the street, I was haunted by a memory of the seconds that preceded the car accident. James had swerved into the barrier of the bridge. Swerved to avoid not a person, nor an animal, but a mass of united creatures.
A travelling mass of worm-like horrors.

I have devised this thread as some guidance for those people who have visited this forum and are concerned about specific symptoms that are effecting them and, in particular, those who are worried that these symptoms are an indication of neurological conditions such as Multiple Sclerosis (MS), Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) & Motor Neurone Disease (MND).
The first thing that must be realised is that NOBODY on an internet forum can ever diagnose you or truly give you any reassurance that you do not have these conditions. Should anybody experience any signs or symptoms that are new to them they should ALWAYS approach their doctor in the first instance in order for these to be examined. In the vast majority of cases a GP will be able to advise you that these symptoms are benign but some doctors will often refer you to a neurologist for their opinion, if this should happen it is not value laden as regarding a possible diagnosis but rather would be the standard format for how you present to the doctor.
This thread is good news, it is good news because it has had to be written, it is good news because hundreds, maybe thousands of people have logged onto this board and countless other anxiety forums totally convinced that they are suffering from a neurological condition despite being told by health care profesionals that this is not the case. All these people ask the same questions and all these people have the exact same worries as you are having now. If this is you, if you have been to the doctor, maybe even a neuro, maybe even two neuro’s, maybe even had an MRI, maybe even two MRI’s, well, you get the picture, if you have been told by your health care profesional that you are healthy but you are struggling to believe this you may find some help from this thread.
So, you have come to an anxiety board. I guess that is because your doctor has told you that you are suffering from anxiety. Actually, my guess would be that your doctor has told you that you are suffering from ‘just’ anxiety and, if you are lucky, you may have been given some leaflets, you may have had some books recommended and you may even have been given some medication.
So, what took you to the doctor? Was it the tingling? The pins & needles? That damned annoying twitching eyelid that just won’t let up? Was it that weird thing when you keep seeing the flashing in your periphiral vision? The strange sensation in your throat where you just can’t swallow? The constant muscle aches and cramps? The constant small joint aches and cramps? Do you have that weird internal vibrating feeling? Was it the percieved weakness in all your major limbs? What about the foot drop you have been noticing, the clumsiness, finding the car keys in the fridge? Was it the chronic constant fatigue, that feeling when you wake in the morning like you haven’t actually gone to bed? What about the myclonic jerking, that bizarre moment when your whole body jerks like you have had an electric shock? Was it that constant twitching in your calf muscles that looks like you have a bag of worms under your skin? It could have been the parathesia, the feeling on your skin where one moment it feels sunburnt and the next minute it feels soaking wet? Maybe it was the atrophy, you know, the muscle loss in your bicep, your thigh that is so obvious to you but what frustratingly nobody else can see? What about………are you bored? I’m bored!
So, you have had some of those right? Maybe like me you are unlucky enough to have had every one of them…not much fun is it! When you first started getting these weird and wonderful symptoms cropping up I bet one of the first things you did was run off to the all powerful internet and consult that all knowing oracle, the good lord GOOGLE. If you did this, if you searched for your symptoms on a search engine on the internet, congratualtions, you have taken the first step on developing this weird and wonderful anxiety disorder known as Health Anxiety. The reason we Google is because of a basic human need at a time of stress, we are scared and we want reassurance, the problem is nothing you ever read on the internet will give you the reassurance you need, you will unwittingly discard the plethora of evidence that tells you that you do not have a neurological illness and instead will latch onto and inflate those things which seem ambigous, why would you do this? I suggest that at this point it may be adavantagous for you to look in the Genaralized Anxiety Disorder folder on this forum and see the negative thought processes and over generalization and catastrophising that defines GAD, it just may ring some bells for you.
So, by the time you have gone to the doctor you are pretty much resigned to the fact that it is MS or if you are really unlucky ALS. You picture yourself in a wheelchair, the kids looking at you with pity as you can’t play sports in the park with them anymore, you picture your partner standing by you and caring for you but all the while you feel the resentment, they never signed up for this, you picture the scene in four years time, confined to a hospital bed with your family and friends round you with the fruit and flowers…..BUT WAIT!
Oh joyous news, the doctor has said you don’t have MS, you don’t have ALS, what you have is anxiety, well, just anxiety….oh believe me there is a BIG difference. You have got out of jail free! The doctor has examind you thoroughly, he has taken your history, he knows the patterns, he has seen people with MS and ALS and you are not one of those. With a skip and a step you are on your way, same time next year doctor, yep, no worries…so with a happy heart and an increased vigour you are off out of the surgery door to continue with your life that had been on hold up to then. MS, ALS how could you be so silly eh?
…and then it begins! Right, the doctor said this is anxiety, I’m not anxious though, why do I still have these symptoms if I’m not anxious….something just isn’t right here. The more you think about it the more it seems obvious, hold on, I saw the doctor on Friday afternoon, I bet he was just thinking about the weekend and wanted to get rid of me. I’m sure that the doctor should have done more tests than he did you know, crikey, I’m sure when I told him the numbness was down just the one side he didn’t listen to that, that bit is crucial and he never heard it. Hold on, this freakin eye twitch is getting even worse and I’m not even anxious, where is the telephone? What is that doctors number?……welcome to the loop!
If any of the above seems familier to you, believe me, you are not alone…as strange as it may seem the fixation on being convinced you have a neurological condition after being told that you are in actual fact suffering from anxiety in very common.
Firstly, you need to realise that both MS and ALS are rare disease’s. Not only are they both rare disease’s but they also tend to effect spefic groups based on ethnicity, age and sex so we are talking about rare disease with partial excluding factors. In contrast, anxiety is an incredibly common and debilitating condtion that effects people both physically and mentally.
Anxiety is generally percieved to be a mental condition, when we are anxious we are anxious in our head and this can kick in the flight or fight syndrome which in turn causes the physical reactions. These reactions are generally thought to be a racing heart and palpitations, sweating, increased adrenaline etc etc. Now, this is all well and good but how does this fit in with those symptoms that mirror MS etc so effectivly.
I personally believe that the reason most people fail to be believe that their symptoms are being genrated by anxiety is because the concept of anxiety is never actually expalined sufficently. A large number of doctors will often expalin to you that you are suffering from ‘just’ anxety and this usage of the term ‘just’ is supposed to make us somehow feel reassured. The problem is that this has the opposite effect, how can a ‘just’ something cause all these real physical symptoms. If anxiety is effecting me mentally how can it make me twitch, buzz and go numb?
For some people anxiety will surface in the tradional panic attack, much seems to be written on this side of anxiety and this is not what we are concerned with here. For a sizable group of people when anxiety starts to manifest itself physically it is through physical sesnations that effect various aspects of our nervous system. This is why the sensations of this physical anxiety so closely mirror the symptoms of a condition such as MS, they actually effect the same part of the body, now, here is the crucial and all important difference, the symptoms of MS are caused by an organic condition which whilst treatable is irreversable and the physical sensations of anxiety are caused by the mind and are of course reversable. In short, you have to understand and accept that the mind can actually generate these physical sensations.
Whilst for many people physical anxiety can strike out of the blue, I am of the opinion that for the vast majority of people anxiety starts to become physical after whay could be many years of bad stress and anxiety management. You may not have even noticed this. We all have an anxiety threshold and the majority of people will probably never approach the blow off point, yes, a sudden and severe stressor could take someone right over the point from the baseline (think Post Traumatic Stress Disorder & Conversion Disorder etc) but most of us operate at an anxiety level that our bodies can handle. The problem is that if we stress ourselves constantly over a period of time, we do not allow our thermostat to reset and one sunny day something will happen, some stressor which can be a bad or even a good event and which we may not even realise the significance of will push us over the limit and it is at this point that our anxiety will effect us physically and more often than not impact on our nervous system.
This also happens to bring us to another crucial factor and what for many is the paradox that holds us back form accepting the anxiety diagniosis, how the hell can this be anxiety when I am not anxious? It makes no sense to me! What we need to realise is that once we have crossed the anxiety threshold no matter what we do we have to surrender ourselves to our mind and body and accept that we are now operating to a timescale that WE CANNOT CONTROL! We can think we are being as cool as Fonzie but we need to accept that the damage whilst reversible has been done and it is just a case of closing the stable door after the horse has bolted. Our body is now in control of us and the physical sensations will only stop when our body and mind are sufficently recovered.
It is at this point where we commit the ultimate folly, do we do as the experts suggest and sit back and realx and float through this stage? Of course not, we do the total opposite, we monitor our body for every twitch and interpret this as a sign of a misdiagnosis, we become hypervigilant, paranoid, self absorbed…this behaviour just creates more and more anxiety and we do not allow our body and mind the time necessary to recover….we are, in effect, pouring gasoline on the fire and expecting it to go out.
If you read this forum you will find a variety of posts that will offer you suggestions as to why you are suffering from the physical sensations of anxiety. Some people will advocate medication, some Cognitive Behaviour Therapy etc etc but what you will realise is that there is no one right way. I am truly of the belief that recovery is all about acceptance and learning to respond to fear correctly but how we do this is very much an indvidual thing. It could well be that you have issues with GAD and you can see how patterns realting to that disorder resonate with how you currently feel about your health, for example, note how both MS and ALS are diseases with which we lose control of our bodies. It could also be that you have issues with OCD, traits such as reassurance seeking and body and symptom monitoring could suggest this. There may well be suggestions that you could be sufferring from elements of depression, there is as school of thought that believes that the mind will somatise physical sensations when there are aspects of your life that your unconcious is unhappy with etc.
I hope this has helped if you have just visited here convinced you have MS etc and you are feeling scared and confused. You may have noticed I have not mentioned anything specific about MS or ALS and that is because there is no reason to...you do not have those. Your doctor has told you you are suffering from anxiety and therefore you are in the right place. Refrain from researching about diseases you do not have and instead concentrate on dealing with what you have today. Of course, what you have today doesn’t guarantee you won’t have MS or ALS tomorrow and if that thought fills you with fear use your time here wisely and believe me, it becomes a lot more bearable.

I want to thank Meatcanyon and Wendigoon for starting Creepcast. I've played around with writing horror, and here is my first short story. I will post it for free in a few other places to see what people think. Please enjoy!
A Hike to Remember
By R.L. Oclen
Chapter 1
A woman sits with hastily pulled-up fire-red hair in the waiting room of the state patrol station. The procedurally sterile off-white walls and decade-old magazines do little for comfort. With her head hanging low, her shoulders pushing forward, and her boots rapidly tapping on the floor, something has to give.
"Please just let her be okay." The woman growls as a pair of officers come in from the field. The officers' demeanors quickly change when they see the familiar face.
"Tabitha, did Officer Nichols call you?" one of the state patrol officers asked sympathetically.
"Yes, he asked me to come in and pick up a few things," Tabitha said, shooting back a muted look.
" I'll let them know you're here." The officer said, nodding to Tabitha as they passed the security door. Tabitha leaned back against the hard plastic chair, staring blankly into the fluorescent light. She had done this dance in the macabre repeatedly over the past month. The last image of her younger sister, Lisa, still burned in her mind. Tabitha had always been protective over her younger sister after their parents died. A pang of guilt shoots through her chest as she thinks about her and Lisa's argument.
"Tabitha Hymm, Officer Nichols is ready for you."
"Okay," she stood up, shaking off her guilt, and followed the officer back. The familiar surroundings of the state patrol station blurred as Tabitha stared forward. She followed the officer as they came to a rustic wooden office door, which was embossed with "Officer Nichols."
The escorting officer turns the old brass door knob. "Sir, I have Tabitha Hymm here." A grizzled West Virginia Highway State Patrol veteran sits behind the desk and nods. The escorting officer steps aside, pushing the door open as Tabitha pushes past him and slumps in the awaiting chair like so many times before. An uncomfortable relationship had formed between the two, born out of necessity and duty.
"Cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. Let's just cut to the chase. You don't have anything new?"
The worn laugh lines and Officer Nichols's face flattens. His eyebrows contour sympathetically as he shakes his head.
"Tabitha, I don't have anything else new for you. I wanted to give you the clothes returned from the lab." Her face darkened at the same response she had heard many times.
"As we discussed two weeks ago, there is nothing new and no signs of struggle or foul play," Officer Nichols said while placing a box marked evidence on the table and sliding it forward. Tabitha began to weep at the realization of Lisa's clothes in front of her. In a coordinated queue, Officer Nichols brought out a box of tissues. Reluctantly, Tabitha took a few moments to unblur her vision.
"How does someone stop their car in the middle of the Remington West Virginia State Park, lock it, and then walk into the woods?" Officer Nichols clasped his hands together and sighed at her worn question.
"Tabitha, I wish I had an answer for why your sister stopped her car in the woods and simply walked off. We're still going through her cell phone, but no signs exist that anyone forced her. On that Tuesday morning, she pulled over to the side of the road, secured her car, and walked away." Officer Nichols said empathetically.
Tabitha became stoic at the same explanation she had heard many times before. " So what next?"
"You should go back to Ohio, and I'll contact you as soon as I have more information." She winced at Officer Nichols's words. Reality began to pull at her that bills and work wouldn't wait much longer.
"If I leave, she's gone for good."
" You staying won't bring her back." Officer Nichols said sympathetically.
" So is that it? She's just gone?"
" Tabitha, I'll be honest with you. In cases like this… when people do things like this. Recovery is harder in the spring due to the weather and the animals. You know her mental condition better than I do. I can't explain why she did what she did. But until I find a solution, a suicide note, some intention, or body. She's not here. Tabitha, I'm-"
" Don't you fucking say sorry!" Tabitha stood up, screaming at Officer Nichols, throwing the plastic chair backward against the wall. " I should just look for myself."
"No!" Officer Nichols said momentarily, gripping the desk as his face hardened, then relaxed. Tabitha was caught off guard by Officer Nichols, who was normally composed. "Tabitha, I know this is unbearable. I've sat on this side of the desk and had these conversations. Trust me; I need you to be safe if I need your help later."
Tabitha nods, knowing Officer Nichols is right. She reaches down, picks up the evidence box of her sister's belongings, and leaves.
" Tabitha, if you're heading home, don't stop your car; just keep driving." Tabitha stops to look at Officer Nichols, feeling an eeriness to his words.
" Goodbye, Officer Nichols," Tabitha said as she closed the rustic wooden door behind her. She counted the tiles as she exited the West Virginia State Patrol Station. Placing her sister's belongings carefully in the back seat of her Jeep, Tabitha then sat momentarily behind the steering wheel, staring at the emblem. The familiar numbness washed over Tabitha as she pushed the start button. She pulled onto the highway, driving to the motel that had been home for the last month or so. Muted pop music accented the drive back as her mind raced with questions. Once inside the two-and-a-half-star motel room, Tabitha sat her sister's belongings on the corner table, crumbled onto the bed, and cried.
***
Tabitha wiped the steam from the slightly spotted mirror above the bathroom sink. The hot water from the shower felt good and loosened some of the stress from her body. Looking back at her, Tabitha's face was framed by damp curls around her shoulders. Her face marked the stress of the past month. Frowning, she examined the bags under her eyes; sleep had to come tonight. Walking into the living area, She changed into her favorite gym shorts and oversized sleep shirt. The alarm on her phone flashed "7:00 am," so she could drive home five hours after breakfast.
Tabitha hated feeling comfortable in this once strange room, but falling asleep was getting easier now. Her eyes closed slowly as the ceiling fan droned evenly. At first, nothing came in her dreams, but she let her guard down and slipped further into sleep.
As she dreamed of floating overhead like a bird of prey, Tabitha soared over the vast Remington National Park. The high noon sun bore down on the crisp woods, perfectly contrasting sky and forest. The heat of the sun felt good on her feathers. Distant cries rang out through the dream-like forest, catching her attention. Tabitha tilted her wings toward the screams, feeling a sense of familiar curiosity.
She now recognized the sobs and cries for help as she flew closer, her sharp eyes locked on her sister leaning against a large oak tree. She glided overhead without care, examining the situation below. Lisa clung to the tree, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning upwards. Lisa's face reflected desperation, looking for help in any direction. Tabitha lazily circles Lisa several times before perching on a sturdy branch higher in one of the oak trees. She watched Lisa intently with hunger. She bellowed deeply, hearing the unnatural sound she made, catching Lisa's eyes. Lisa's expression changed; she became calm, almost uncaring, as she stared back at Tabitha's form. Hunger grew exponentially in Tabitha as she spread her large wings. Her large eyes gaze down at Lisa before diving straight for her sister.
Tabitha jolts awake to the alarm on her phone flashing "7:23 AM." She breathes in sharply, shaking off the last horrible thoughts from the reoccurring nightmare. The strange details become more vivid each time. The lingering memories of folk stories her mother told sat in the back of her mind. In those stories, the dead would reach out in dreams as a matter of warning. Leaning back on the headboard, she searched for the advice her psychologist gave her. During their last session, Dr. Ryland explained dreams are a form of self-actualization of guilt. He told Tabitha that it was natural to feel responsible when losing a loved one in this manner.
Tabitha grumbled, lightly running her hands through her red hair; she pushed everything to the back of her mind. "Get it together!" She grumbled to herself. She pushed herself off the bed and got ready to leave. It was going to be a long trip home, and the only thing she could do now was leave things in the authorities' hands. Packing up was pretty easy since she only cycled through the outfits she brought. The local laundromat must have made a small fortune off her. Tabitha took one last look at the box of Lisa's belongings before throwing them in her duffle bag. She was thankful she didn't have to spend another night in this room.
***
Tabitha sat behind the wheel, waiting for the 90's model minivan to finish their order so she could grab a breakfast burrito on the way out. Considering the situation, the Deer Stop Family Restaurant did have a good breakfast. Finally, pulling up to the 70-style drive-in board, Tabitha rolled off the order she had been accustomed to. " I'll take a large iced tea with the double breakfast burrito meal and hash browns, please."
" Would you like some happy hot sauce with that?"
" That's fine, and a few ketchup packets as well."
" Your total is $8.79. Please pull around."
She pulled around to her window, flashed her debit card, got the receipt, and waited for her food. Luckily, the young woman serving her wasn't very talkative in the morning. The last thing she wanted was a conversation about the weather or meaningless small talk.
" Here's your large iced tea and breakfast meal. Ketchup and happy hot sauce are inside."
" Thanks," Tabitha said while mustering her best fake smile. The woman only smiled and nodded as the service window automatically closed. She pulled into the parking lot and dug into breakfast. Turning the radio to the weather, Tabitha sat back and enjoyed her meal. The local DJ read through the headlines, making nonpartisan comments about politics and grumbling about improving the economy. Tabitha powered through the updates of the "out-of-state woman" who'd gone missing. It was nice that the local radio station gave Lisa's name, description, and a missing person's number for sightings or leads. Tabitha even interviewed with the local news and radio stations, hoping it would bring Lisa home. But she soon found all it brought was a sorrowful look from the locals as she interacted with them in her day-to-day life.
Finishing the last of her hash browns, Lisa wadded up everything in the paper bag and threw it in the back seat. The 9 AM weather report said it was nothing but clear skies and sun the rest of the week. Tabitha flipped the radio over to the greatest hit station, pulled out of the parking lot, and began her trip home. She memorized the roads, every bend and turn in the early weeks as she frantically looked for Lisa. There's something hypnotic about the trees: the way they flow together. The trees' green tops and the oak trees' wide trunks were a relaxing view. Tabitha enjoyed the lazy s-curves of the road, bending and winding around the hills and the trees. The occasional farmhouse or field dotted the sides of the road as she made her way to the main highway.
The blur of a semi-truck snapped Tabitha's attention as she pulled up to the mouth of the highway. She had four and a half hours ahead of her, which would be a long ride. Tabitha pulled onto the highway and picked up speed, noting sparse traffic. She relaxed into her seat, letting her gaze gloss over the blur of green foliage. Without warning, Tabitha caught a large shadow from the corner of her left eye. When she registered the black feathery form, Tabitha tensed up and slammed on the brakes as it swooped across the vehicle's hood. Quickly, she pulled the car safely off the road. She couldn't determine exactly what it was, but it was bigger than any bird she'd seen. It was a bird, right? Tabitha turned off her Jeep and grabbed the keys and cell phone. Standing before the Jeep, she looked over the grill to see if she made contact with the entity.
Bewildered, she scanned the tree line, spotting something in the distance. Sitting in the clearing of the large oak forest was an enormous black owl. It stared intently at Tabitha with bright, shiny yellow eyes. She pushed the lock button on her keys, causing the jeep to beep securely. She turned, looking across the open field, an enormous black owl perched in the upper branches of an old oak tree. Each step she took away from the road piqued her curiosity. Soon, Tabitha stood in the middle of the open field, staring intently into the eyes of the enormous owl.
The horn of a passing semi-truck blared, pulling Tabitha's attention away from the mysterious large creature. She looked back and saw that she had walked farther away from the Jeep than she had thought. She glanced back to the forest line only to see the enormous owl was deeper into the woods than before. She narrowed her vision to find the two large, bright yellow eyes staring back. Had it moved? The day's stress, care, and worry suddenly poured out of Tabitha. It was replaced by only curiosity and overbearing tranquility. She warmly smiled for the first time in months as her feet pulled her further into the woods.
Chapter 2
The tug of gravity pulls Tabitha to her senses as her body reacts, falling forward. Her arms thrust forward, bracing for impact. Water rushes around her face as she struggles to get her bearings. Quickly, Tabitha pushed herself up in the ankle-high stream she fell in. The haze slowly clears from her mind as she stares at the muddy water. The dull ache throbs up her legs. Tabitha can smell the sweat from her clothes. Her face contorted in panic as she quickly stood up in the water, looking for her cell. Thankfully, the device was still in her pocket, dry and unscathed.
"One o'clock. How can that be?" Tabitha says, slowly looking up from the screen to see the vast, dense West Virginia forest encompassing her view. She shakes her head back and forth with disbelief. A smile gently spreads across her face, with the last bit of tranquility leaving her body. How did I get out here? Her breathing becomes faster as her pulse begins to quicken. I'm in the forest. I'm all alone—just like Lisa!
"NO, NO, NO, NO! THIS FUCKING CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!" Tabitha screams into the void of trees. Her eyes well up with tears as she crumbles to her knees, gripping her phone tightly to her chest. Her sobs ring out through the thick oak trees. Her breath slows a little as she regains her composure. She begins to search her mind for anything. What is the last thing I can remember? The image of the black shadow crossing her vision while driving flashes into her mind.
"Okay, I got out of the Jeep, the…then what?" Tabitha says, trying to refresh her memories. She thinks her memory is not just gone; it's a black void in her mind. Complete blackness fills her mind right after remembering locking the Jeep and then turning to see the…
"Fuck I saw something. What was it!" Tabitha says, frustrated with her mind. She knew there must be a logical reason she was out here. Officer Nichols warned her not to go looking for her sister. She wasn't stupid; she just said that as a last-ditch effort to get him to do anything. Now I'm here.
"Run!" Tabitha heard Lisa's voice in her ear. Before she could turn around, she heard a loud bellowing coming from overhead. Fear shot down her back, reminding her of the nightmares she had over the past month. She shot forward full bore as something crashed to the ground behind her. Glancing back as she ran, a black mass of feathers convulsed between the broken branches of the trees. Its slick black feathers rippled across its surface as its bones crackled and flesh tore. Its body contorted and twisted from the shape of an owl to something bigger.
"Run, Tabby! Don't let it catch you!" Tabitha pushed forward, hearing Lisa's scream beside her face. Her breath burned in her chest, and she moved past the old oak trees bent over the creek bed. Her feet slammed rapidly, splashing along the side of the creek. Another loud bellow comes from behind as the trees bend and break to the force behind her. A small opening in the rocky creek bed catches her sight from the left. She dives into the crevasses, not caring where the fathoms lead. Tabitha tumbles in the pitch black, taking scrapes and sharp jabs from the rocks as she tumbles further into the void.
She finally tumbles to a stop on the sandy, wet floor of the cave. Her body aches from the sudden burst of exhaustion. The cool water running around her body from the creek is soothing despite her bumps and bruises. Pushing herself up, she scoots out of the water. Feeling her way forward, she finds a dry spot to collect herself. Quickly pushing her hand into her pocket, she finds her phone undamaged.
The sound of footsteps pushing against the creek fills the void around Tabitha as the light steps move closer to each other up the underground creekbed. She slowly removes her cell from her pocket and then shines the camera light toward the sound. A pair of scratched and bruised pale bare legs hold up a frail form in front of her in the creek. She wears the darkness as a shroud with nothing else to clothe her. Tabitha froze, not wanting to shine the light further in the pale form before her.
"Tabby, turn your light off. You need to save your battery." Tabitha turned off the light and then rushed forward, embracing Lisa—the how or why didn't matter, only the now. The pale form hugged her tightly. Tabitha felt her cold, bare skin. The darkness couldn't hide the feeling of the marks across her back and torso.
"Lisa, I'm-"
"Hush! I don't have much time. This wasn't your fault! I'm with Mom and Dad now. You have to survive, Tabby! Listen. Wait until the sun shines through the cracks, making a trail out. Follow it down the creek until you come to the opening. You'll see a large hill you hike up for a cell signal. And remember…If you can't see it… It can't hurt you. I love you-"
Tabitha stumbled forward before catching herself. The void in front of her arms was only filled by cool air. She looked up and noticed a faint glimmer of light pushing through the ceiling. She sat down, relaxing against the limestone wall of the cave, waiting for the trail of light to form.
***
After a few hours, the light shining through the cracks of the cave ceiling was bright enough to lead Tabitha to the other side. She stepped onto the creek bed, thankful for the sun hanging lower in the sky. Scanning the sky, Tabitha saw only a few clouds. The foothills of Appalachia backdropped the forest as she scanned for the hill. Her eyes found the trail leading up the steady slope of an impressive hill. The top of the hill was bare. Part of the hill must have sheared off in a landslide, leaving the top void of trees and a jagged cliff face. Tabitha started her hike up the back of the hill. She was careful to stay under the heavy canopy of the old trees, hopefully avoiding the creature's eyes.
She did her best to quiet her mind while hiking up the trail. Come on, almost to the top, then I can call 911, she replayed repeatedly in her mind. Her adrenaline made up for the lack of food since morning. She drank some water from a clean spot in the creek. She was placing her bet on rescue rather than worrying about the water.
Leaning against one of the trees, Tabitha took out her cell and measured the signal.
"Damn it, nothing!" She swore under her breath. She listened nervously and cautiously peered her head out from the tree line. Standing at the tree line, the cell phone still had a low signal. She pushed her anxiety down with a swallow and slowly stepped forward onto the bare rock. Tabitha was now out in the open. She walked with the cell phone pointed upwards, measuring the signal. Within three feet of the cliff face, her signal bar punched up to full. Tabitha began to punch in the numbers just as a pair of large yellow eyes appeared. She felt her legs become weak, and her vision blurred as the creature snared her in its gaze.
Tabitha ducked, missing the giant owl's claws as it swooped for her. She squinted her eyes shut, momentarily breaking the hold of the infernal beast as it crashed to the ground, tumbling down the path of old trees. On her hands and knees, she tucked the dialed phone back into her pocket. She heard the creature's loud bellowing, followed by the snapping of bone and flesh ripping. It was changing its shape to finish her off.
Tabitha tried to get up, but the flash of its eyes did something to her. Her legs were numb, her stomach was in knots, and she could barely put a few thoughts together.
"If you can't see it, it can't hurt you." Tabitha heard clearly in her left ear. She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position and fumbled for the key chain in her right pocket. Pulling the long chain of keys, luck charms, and keepsakes, her father's Swiss army knife dangled at the end. She slowly opened the half-inch blade. Her body wholeheartedly rejected her plan and tried to fight her. Every internal warning system sounded as her body fought against her as she brought the blade against the corner of her left eye.
She didn't know if she could do it until the creature bellowed in her direction. With one quick motion, the half-inch blade sliced across her left eye. The world dimmed and then went black on her left side. Behind her, the beast's thundering gallop was getting closer. Tabitha plunged herself into total darkness with the last bit of her strength. Her hand gripped tightly around the bloody knife as she folded forward onto the ground. She could feel herself weeping blood. She squinted, doing her best to stem the tide of blood loss.
A large feathered paw drove into Tabitha's right side, flipping her onto her back. She lay still as the hulking creature stood over her. It remained motionless, and Tabitha was confused about why it didn't move or bite her. Then she started to giggle, just a little at first. Then, laughing madly into the creature's face as it growled back at her. She could not see it; she couldn't see anything. Her mind couldn't be eaten!
The creature roared into Tabitha's face while plunging one of its sharp claws into her shoulder. Tabitha screamed in pain, slashing the knife downward. The blade hit something soft, and she ripped the blade down, rending whatever she had hit on the abomination. A bright yellow, foul-smelling liquid gushed in a torrent over Tabitha's face. She turned to cough, having swallowed a portion of it. The creature reared back, squealing in pain. Its hind leg came down hard on Tabitha's leg, snapping her tibia. She jerked her leg up, causing the creature to tumble forward and fall over the edge of the cliff side.
Tabitha heard the creature crash below at the base of the hill. A large dead tree speared the creature through its chest. Tabitha could hear the labored whines of the creature as its cries became weak and slowed. A wave of sickness hit her as she rolled over and vomited. The foul smell drenched her. She did her best to focus, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone. By memory, she typed in the unlock pin. She held her breath and placed her thumb where the call button should be.
She could hear the call being made then, "911. What is your emergency?"
"Please help me! A bear has attacked me, and I can't see. I think I am on a hill."
"Ok, ma'am, stay with me! Do you know where you are located?"
"No, I'm lost. Please send help."
"It's okay. Stay with me on the phone, and I'll use the cell signal to try to find you."
"I'm on top of one of the hills. I think I am lying on a bare roc-" Tabitha slipped unconscious with the cell still tightly in her hand. Her body began to tremble and convulse.
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Stay with me. I have help on the way."
Chapter 3
A young man in military fatigues frantically compiles images and reconnaissance data from his drone feed. Confirming his hunch, he commands the winged surveillance drone to make a hard left and send a live video feed. His eyes widened as he saw a large owl-shaped shadow crash onto the top of a hill. He watches in awe as the sleek black owl twists and shifts into something much larger, like a grizzly. As the drone turns, he sees a woman at the cliff's edge trying to steady yourself on her hands and knees.
He bolts up from the command module, jotting down the drone's coordinates on one of the printouts. The drab government-issued office motif for the watch station blurs in the corner of his eye as he rushes down the hallway to the watch commander's office.
"Sir, recon has eyes on AMOS! And it's feeding!" the man said, swinging the heavy wooden door open. He took the hastily compiled file and pushed it forward to the commanding officer.
An older, tanned man quickly stands, reaching for the files. His brow furls, seeing his charge is awake. "Keep eyes on it! Go Adams!" The young man nods, turning on his heel and bolting for the drone command module. As his office door slams shut from the subordinate officer, he grabs his headset and frantically dials the closest military outpost to the coordinates.
"Hello, Sergeant Klein; this is Agent Smith of Black Watch outpost 7948! Shadow is active, code Alpha, Mike, Oscar, Sierra. The coordinates and data package have been sent. A civilian is on the ground; deploy strike-and-rescue ASAP.
"We'll be up in five, Agent Smith! The line cuts as Agent Smith closes out the call on his headset and rushes to the door. The normally quiet watch station buzzes alive, with personnel flooding the central command station. The background echoes resource allocation calls, frantic typing, and the hum of cold computers warming up.
"Adams, get our eyes back on Amos!"
"Coming back around in 30 seconds." Thirty sets of eyes stare at the three giant screens, anxiously waiting for the drone feed to clear the bank of trees. The camera clears the tre top to see the giant feathered grizzly rear back slinging its massive head away from its prey. Its large yellow right eye spews bright yellow liquid all over the red-haired woman and the cliff face. The giant feathered grizzly missteps, crushing the woman's leg and causing the creature to tumble over the cliff face.
"Fuck!" Agent Smith yells in horror as he watches AMOS fall four stories, impaling a sharp, 3-meter-tall log lodged in the boulders. The command center freezes wide-eyed at the flailing dying creature on screen. Agent Smith pulls his cell out quickly and dials.
"Klein, Scrub the current request! AMOS is down! Switch to rescue and harvest now!
"What, someone took out AMOS?"
"YES! It's at the bottom of the cliff, bleeding out essence! The woman is covered in it as well. Clean as much of it off her as possible before you take her to the ER.
"Understood!"
Agent Smith, in a rage, slings his phone straight forward, connecting with Private Adams's skull. Adams flinches at the sudden impact of the hard plastic and covers his head. Agent Smith grabs the table in front of him and flips it over, sending the computer equipment crashing to the government-issued tiled floor.
"A two-year cycle gone! All that essence is gone! Now I have to wait another 24 months for AMOS to resurrect!" Agent Smith screams, causing the rest of the staff to recoil away in fear.
"Jones!" Agent Smith says sternly, turning to a petite woman on his left. She stares at him, pleading.
"Yes Sir?'
"Get Officer Nichols on my office line. That fuck up has some explaining. He should have told us AMOS was awake."
"Right away!" Jones quickly sits back down and begins dialing Nichols, thankful she doesn't have to deal with Agent Smith further. The command center quickly shifts gears as Agent Smith returns to his office.
***
Two Weeks later…
"Tabitha… Tabitha… This is Doctor Wilhelm. Wake up." The kind older gentleman said as they gently nudged Tabitha in her hospital bed.
"Where am I?" Tabitha asked, waking from what felt like years of sleep. She sat up, the world still pitch black, but an odd sense of the world around her seemed to hum just behind her eyes.
"You're in the hospital, dear; you scared us. Do you remember anything?" He said as he sat down on the side of her bed.
Tabitha thought for a moment the last parts after she slashed her eyes were a blur. She remembers people yelling and the sound of two or three helicopters over her. " No, it's really all just a blur."
"Well, it's probably for the best. You had some very serious injuries. The first night, we honestly didn't think you would make it. Then…" The doctor trailed off with a concerned expression, not knowing how to explain things further.
Tabitha felt his pulse quicken somehow. She didn't understand it but fully felt or sensed the doctor beside her. She sensed the two other nurses standing at the end of the bed. Her body didn't hurt. She felt great. She felt hungry.
"Doctor, you said had. What happened to my injuries?" She said calmly, trying not to startle the old doctor further.
"Well, Tabitha, it's the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. You had violent seizures from the minute you hit the entrance of the ER. We couldn't even set your leg. The medications we gave you had a minimal effect, and you thrashed so much that we had to restrain you. Then, the early morning check-in found you in a deep sleep. All but your eyes were completely healed. So we switched gears to support care and treated your eyes the best we could." He said, watching her reaction.
Tabitha leaned back in her bed, taking in the wild account. "Do you know how I healed so quickly?"
"What happened to you is beyond all scientific reason. A miracle is the only way the staff and I can explain it. I know you have been through a lot, but I want to check your eyes."
"Thank you for all your help, Doctor Wilhelm." She said, sitting up in bed.
"You are most welcome, dear. Now I am going to unwrap your eye-dressing. Hold still, please." he said as he reached up and pulled on the bandage tape. Tabitha felt a quick tug and felt the bandages loosen from around her head. The doctor slowly unwrapped the bandages. The doctor's brow wrinkled as he examined the two large black scabs covering Tabitha's eyes.
"Tell me if this hurts at all, ok?"
"Yes, doctor." She relaxes as the doctor's gloved fingers pass over the scab. He pushes and gently tugs at the side of one, and it starts to lift. He pulls on the scab more, and Tabitha begins to sense the light as it hits her eyelid.
"Oh, I can sense the light, Doctor Wilhelm!" She said, smiling.
"Wonderful! Nurse Allen, please hand me some saline solution. I think a little water will loosen these right up. Hold still; this may feel cold," he said as he reached for the solution. She felt the cool liquid flush over the left eye, then the right. The scabs fell away with a gentle tug from the doctor. She could see the light shine through her eyelids. She grinned widely, happy to have some form of sight left.
"Please open your eyes for me," he said as he sat back on the bed. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes. The flood of light was almost too much, causing her to squint. After a few moments, she adjusted to the fluorescent lights. Three figures began to take shape in front of her. First, the distinguished older features of Doctor Wilhelm came into view quickly, followed by the brunette and blonde younger nurses standing at the end of the bed. Suddenly, her vision snapped into place, crisp and clear.
"I can see perfectly! This is amazing! Thank you, Doctor Wilhem!" she said, turning to look directly into his eyes, but he stared back at her unmovingly.
"Doctor Wilhelm?" she said as her expression became more worried. Doctor Wilhelm just sat staring, intensely focused on her eyes. His expression was overbearingly calm. She glanced at the nurses, rigidly staring back at her with trapped, calm expressions. Doctor Wilhelm began to twitch slightly. It traveled from the base of his spine out to his limbs, finally convulsing.
"Doctor Wilhelm, are you okay?" Tabitha yelled as the doctor began to have a seizure and fell on top of her bed.
"Help Him!" She screamed at the two nurses only to see both of them crumble to the tiled floor. One of them bashed her head off the bed frame. Tabitha recoils back from Doctor Wilhelm in terror as he starts foaming at the mouth. She climbs over the bed rail and hits the tiled concrete floor with a thud. Her adrenaline surges as she bolts for the door, looking for help.
At the entrance of her hospital room, she sees another nurse leaving the adjacent room. "Please, my doctor and staff need help!" As the male nurse turns to see Tabitha, he suddenly goes stiff before collapsing into a violent seizure, spilling his cart over with him.
"What's happening!" Tabitha screams, thinking something is in the air, or everyone has come down with something. A pair of security guards round the corner, hearing the screams and commotion.
"Ma'am, are yo-" The guard freezes mid-stride as he makes eye contact with Tabitha. Both men start to convulse and topple over, thrashing violently on the hard tile.
"No, no, no, no!" Tabitha yells as she darts into the women's bathroom, a few doors up the hall. She runs in, terrified of the situation. She approaches one of the sinks, bracing herself against the cool porcelain. Her stomach turns, and she dry heaves in the sink. She steadies herself while turning on the cold water. Leaning in, she takes a drink. As she looks up, a glint of two yellow eyes catches her. Tabitha stumbles backward on reflex. Then, she sees her reflection in the mirror. Two completely bright yellow eyes stare back at Tabitha. She screams at herself in the mirror, not feeling hungry anymore.
The end.
I will

8 March, 1608
The patient had been mostly unconscious for nearly a full day, his breathing becoming more and more laboured. Heart rate was rather accelerated, though not to enough to be deeply worrying. Appetite was, of course, weak; only some broth and milk-ice had passed the young King's lips the previous morning. There was no fever—if anything he was perhaps too cool, in spite of the well-stoked fire and many blankets—and light perspiration. Urination and defecation were sparse, given the depressed appetite.
Just as Dr. Heilig went to again check the King's pulse, the doors of the bedchamber opened quickly, and Lord Mircescu entered, his daughter in tow. The young lady carried a bundle in her arms that Dr. Heilig well knew to be the crown prince, born in the afternoon two days previously.
Lord Mircescu brushed past and went to the bedside, kneeling and taking the King's hand.
"Majesty. Your Majesty? Vladuț?"
There was a hint of consciousness, a tightening around the patient's eyelids and twitching of the muscles around the jaw, but no other response. Standing again, Lord Mircescu went to his daughter and collected the infant in her arms.
"My lord," Dr. Heilig said, "I hope you do not intend..."
"I intend to show the prince to his father," Mircescu hissed, and again stepped past the doctor.
For some days now they had kept the patient sitting up in bed, propped with a great many cushions and pillows. This eased the breathing somewhat, particularly when alternated each hour and a half or so with helping the patient to lean forward across a rolled blanket. Currently the patient was upright, and Lord Mircescu shoved one of the cushions askew to guide the body into an ever-so-slightly reclined position.
Mihai Mircescu rushed into the chamber, Ileana behind him. He barely registered the doctor near the bed, or the apprentice and assistant in the corner; for Mihai, there was only the sight of his dear young King.
The boy was sitting up in the bed, though he was clearly in some degree asleep or otherwise unaware. Mihai went to him, kneeling and taking the poor, pale, clammy hand.
"Majesty. Your Majesty?"
No response, and so he spoke again, he voice crackling with suppressed tears.
"Vladuț?"
The King's eyelids fluttered slightly, and he seemed to try and close his mouth, perhaps to shut in the horrible gurgling rasps of his breath. That was enough sign to know he would be aware of what followed.
Mihai went and took the little crown prince in his arms, and then the doctor at last drew his attention.
"My lord, I hope you do not intend..."
"I intend to show the prince to his father!"
Moving past the man, Mihai carried the baby to the bedside and shift some of the cushions so the King was closer to lying back, though he was still in actuality sitting up.
Ileana's heart was full of fear and prayers as she followed the father to the King's chamber. She had known Vlad all of their lives, had been his playfellow and friend and even protector.
Now, there was no way for her to protect him from the illness that had been stealing him away for all of those years.
She thought of the young Queen, back in the Purple Room, lying still and sore after so recently giving birth. The poor young Queen, so recently and mother and so soon to be a widow.
She would protect the Queen, and the little Prince, as she had always tried to protect Vlad.
In the King's chamber, Ileana tried not to look at the rasping, skeletal figure on the bed. It tore at her not to look on her old friend, her King, but she wished to remember him as he had been. Never had Vlad been very healthy, but once he had seemed stronger, had been a smiling, joyful figure.
After a moment, her eyes closed in prayer, she felt her father lift the Crown Prince from her arms, heard him exchange some words with someone, and then she turned her back on the whole scene.
She opened her eyes only to gaze down at the carpet and let her tears fall.
Vlad did not know if it was very late, or very early, or no time in particular. His head swam, full of darkness and dreams and threads of thought that were impossible to catch. His mind always was so lost lately. It was so hard to breathe, and to think, and to be.
Somewhere, a great distance away, someone called to him.
"Vladuț?"
He tried to open his eyes, to call out to the person, for he was very lonely here in the dark in his own head, but it was so hard to move and to breathe.
He missed Tata, who always could help him breathe again. But Tata was gone a long time ago now. Maybe a thousand years.
Someone shouted, and Vlad turned his head a little. He hated fighting and arguments.
Then someone moved him, only a little, and he was not sitting up so much.
A weight settled on his chest—not the usual, always weight of fighting to find breath, but some small, warm, soft weight. He was aware a little of a fragrance like the sweetness of warm milk, and then a voice, familiar and beloved, was near his ear.
"You have a son, your Majesty," Lord Mircescu whispered. "A perfect son."
A son? His son? Yes, Juliana had been close to having the baby, last he remembered. Was she all right, his sweet wife? Was she safe?
Straining, Vlad opened his eyes a little as he felt his hands moved over his chest. They settled on a silky, lumpy something, and when he flicked his gaze down, he saw a puff of fine dark hair poking out from the folds of a bundled blanket.
"Mm-my ssson?" Vlad managed.
"Yes, Majesty," Mircescu said. "Your son. Your Crown Prince."
Vlad felt as though his heart, indeed his very soul, soared in that moment to the heavens. He had known he would live to see his son. He had sworn it to himself and to the unborn and to God.
"Hhh... I k-kept... Kept my promise," he sighed, and willed his right hand to gently pat his infant son's back three times.
By Blood Ascended Chronological Listing

Soulmage

I wanted to leave without a word, because there was a part of me that still thought I was right, and if I spat that venom at Cienne I'd only sicken him more. Then I wanted to write a letter, because I'd tried to make Cienne's choices for him one too many times, and taking my last words away from him stank too much of glass shards and festered bile.
So in the end, there was only one choice that gave back Cienne some of the control I'd wrested from him. There would be no vanishings in the night. No envelopes on pillows with salt-stained pleas.
I knocked on Cienne's door during a frigid, thin-aired noon.
"Lucet?" I heard a thunk twenty pounds heavier than I expected. He was taking to the treatments well. The treatments I'd tried to keep from him. "Everything okay?"
And fuck, things had gone so wrong between us that the first thing he asked was that. "Honestly? Not really. But if you don't want to talk, I'll leave."
I held a slip of paper between my fingers. If he didn't want to talk, I'd slip it into the Plane of Calm when I left. Hiding my last words in a place he'd only reach if he was unshakeable was the least I could do to ensure my absence wouldn't be sprung on him when he was already knocked down.
But the door opened before I could cast a spell, and Cienne was in his neatly-tidied room, his Redlander's robes pooling around his feet. Waves lapped at the warm sand of his soul, and he stepped back in an unspoken invitation.
The paper crinkled in my hands, and I shook my head. "If I step into that room I'm not going to be able to leave," I blurted out.
Cienne tilted his head, lips pursing, and I could see my soul reflected in his eyes, all back-alley bilgewater and broken bottles. The realization swelled inside him like a bubble of magma, boiling his idyllic beach into mist and quartz. "You're leaving the city," Cienne finally said.
I had an entire letter working up to that revelation, and he saw through me in an instant. "I wrote an explanation, if you don't want to hear it from me now, but—"
"If that would make it easier for you," Cienne began, then grimaced. "...no. No, I want to hear it from you. Why you'd rather die by inches rather than let Zhytln treat you, you stubborn—" He cut himself off.
"Go ahead," I said.
"Like hell I will. You came here to say something, and I want to hear you out."
I took in a deep breath, then looked down at the words in my palms. I could drop them and run, and Cienne wouldn't get in my way because only one of us tried to stop people from taking the medicine they needed, and that was the coward's way out and if there was one thing I would never again be it was a coward.
"Okay." I wish I could have met his eyes while I spoke, but truth be told I'd stammer and stutter and shy away if I had to improvise this, so I looked down at my letter and began to read.
Cienne, it simply began. If you're reading this, I'm already gone. I skipped that part, true though it was, and read aloud from the second sentence. "You're building a life here, and I can't be part of it. Because you're finally happy and healthy and safe and content, and there are things I need to do that won't let me ever be any of that."
Cienne's hands twitched, as if reflexively he wanted to reach out to me, to comfort me like he had so many times before. Before. Before we'd clashed. Before he knew what it meant to be a riftmaw.
"Part of me wanted to hide where I'm going for your own good," I continued, and I was glad now that I had an excuse to look anywhere but at Cienne. "But I don't get to decide that for you. So while you're living your life on the docks of Knwharfhelm, the same abomination of an institution that gave us cancer and killed Sansen is still murdering and brainwashing and claiming the moral high ground while they're at it. And I'm going to steal their medicine and wreck their war machine and show them what a pissed-off soulmage with nothing to lose can do. And this is where both of us belong. You enjoying your freedom and health. Me trying to win that for everyone who didn't escape. Because that's why I'm doing this. For the people like you who never found their peace. And for the one who did."
Lines of frost crept from my fingertips, ink twisting into brittle runes. I looked up at Cienne, as if he would convince me to change my mind, to take Zhytln's treatment and stay in the struggling, growing household he'd made.
Maybe there was once a Cienne who would have asked me to stay. But I'd killed that man on the docks of Knwharfhelm.
"...Will you talk to Meloai and Sansen before you go?" Cienne finally asked.
"I knew I'd only be able to do this once."
Cienne closed his eyes.
"Then go," he finally said. "And when you see Witch Aimes..."
His brows creased, eyelids twitching, and his soul shuddered and wrenched. He never finished his sentence.
"I'll know what to do," I said. I almost reached out to take his hand.
But his soul was placid and still once more. I'd disturbed him enough already.
So I drew a line in the air, peeling open a rift between our home and the streets of Knwharfhelm, and took my first step towards the Silent Peaks.
A.N.
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I’ve been twitching for 2.5 months. It’s been a wild ride.
My story begins 6+ months ago in November when my wife and I welcomed our first child into the world. We have a perfectly happy and healthy baby daughter. After two months of paternity leave I was scheduled to go back to work. My job entails extensive traveling on 14/14 days on/off rotations in the oil and gas industry.
On my first trip back to work in January, I was reading a newspaper article regarding CTE in NFL players and the role concussions play in the health struggles these individuals have post-career. I was shocked when I read about college athletes also being diagnosed with CTE postmortem.
I began tallying up the times I hit my head as a kid into young adulthood. I grew up playing soccer and thought about the thousands of times I headed soccer balls playing the sport from childhood throughout college. Falling on the ski slopes, falling off my bike, getting punched at a college party - all additional times where I sustained sub-concussive to concussive hits to my brain. I was sad and completely ashamed to have only just become aware of this reality in my mid-30’s.
This shame quickly spiraled to serious anxiety and depression after reading about professional soccer players developing neurological diseases like early-onset dementia and ALS. I had no history of mental illness and had felt mentally sharp but that all changed. The anxiety worsened - I was unable to concentrate on work, becoming a zombie and hazard to myself and my coworkers. This stress and anxiety led to intense headaches that felt like a dagger was being pushed into the back of my eyeballs. I was unable to get proper sleep at night and I brought no value to the workplace during the day.
I began seeing a therapist within a couple weeks of this mental health crisis. The therapy introduced me to stoicism and I worked hard at mediation practices and started playing memory and brain games on my phone. Unfortunately, I was still obsessive about reading updates on dementia and Alzheimer’s research. I would search for examples of former athletes who lived to old age without developing neurological diseases. I would seek validation through medical studies and Reddit forums.
As the month of February came and went I was beginning to feel like I was coming out of my depression. It was short-lived. In early March I was sitting on my couch when I noticed my knee twitch in a very dramatic and alarming way. My initial reaction was fascination. Unfortunately, I googled muscle twitching and immediately saw this was a symptom of ALS. Of course things spiraled from there. Within a couple days body wide twitching had developed. Absolutely every part of my body was affected. The scariest twitches were giant tremors in both of my femoral nerves near my thigh/pelvis area. I also had a dramatic forearm twitch in the middle of the night that woke me from a dead sleep. The twitches were so dramatic throughout my body I convinced myself I had to have an underlying medical condition.
At this point I had traveled back to work where I became a wreck once again. Things deteriorated so much that my boss sent me home. Fortunately my company was super supportive and did not pressure me. They told me to work from home or take as much time as I needed. It was one less thing to worry about, but I felt like it didn’t really matter considering I’d be dead of ALS within a couple years anyway. After a continuous couple weeks of twitching I was able to see a neurologist.
Walking into the neurologists office I was a wreck. I was twitching all over and wanted to cry. I was a few minutes away from being diagnosed with ALS afterall. The neurologist saw me and I explained how everything had been going since early January. I walked for him and he pushed and pulled on my limbs. I had been twitching nonstop but when he went to check for twitching he couldn’t find a single one. I had physically felt the tension release from my body when he put his hands on me. I have no idea why it suddenly stopped and I was extremely frustrated. Prior to this I had been twitching every second for the previous two weeks. His advice was to treat the underlying anxiety. That was it. He said clinical weakness is what he looks for in ALS not twitching. He told me to quit caffeine and deal with the stress. He said my twitching was stress-induced BFS.
I was frustrated with this visit to the neurologist. I was left with two unanswered questions - HOW could these twitches not be an underlying health condition? WHY did my stress and tension flood out of my body ceasing all twitching when I was in his office?
Within a day or two the twitching was back with a vengeance. I began developing hotspots - my eyelid on the bridge of my nose, my shoulders, my right thigh, my left thigh, my right foot. I decided to get on Zoloft in early April.
It is now May 19 and I’m still twitching daily. Recently my foot has been buzzing continuously like there’s a cell phone in my shoe. I twitch from time to time in other areas but twitching outside of the hotspot has reduced dramatically.
I decided last week to book one more appointment to a neurologist. I will meet with them on May 28. I have good days and bad days but I’ve always found some solace that this twitching developed on the backend of a huge life transition and crippling anxiety. For ALS to manifest now would be a massive coincidence. Stranger things have happened but it is still unlikely timing. I have decided I will take whatever that neurologist tells me in confidence. If they tell me to stop worrying about this then that’s what I’m going to do. If they order more testing then that’s what I am going to do. Either way, I’m going to do everything in my power to stop obsessing over it. This health anxiety has robbed me of precious time with my newborn daughter and I’m over it.
One last parting thought is this - many of our stories sound the same. Stressful life event, followed by muscle twitch. Google symptoms - read ALS. Twitching becomes widespread and anxiety goes through the roof. Take comfort in knowing there are many people just like you.

Could be a symptom of autonomic nervous system?
My other symptoms include:
In august last year I had strong infection, I was sweating by month, extreme fatigue, swollen lymph node under armpit.
Since then I have tons of symptons:

• neuropathic pain in back, deep pain in spine
• right shoulder blade is painful and deep itching, extremely weird tingling pain deep, when I move my arm
• my back feels so messed up I feel asymetric when I walk, when I breathe I feel pain in lot of different places in body
• redness on face, flushing, red ears, heatwaves and warm feeling (mostly at night) - when my face is flushed, symptoms of pins needles burning are the worst
• electric, neuralgic pains in face, head, scalp, pain when I move my eyes deep in face
• body itching, itch deep inside ears, face
• skin on face, scalp, eyelids twitch randomly, like electric shocks
• fatigue, brain fog
• brain zaps
• pins needles in feet, body for example when I put my clothes on
• random warm feelings in legs like hot water in legs
• hives which disappeared mostly

Bloodwork is ok. Is it some kind of long covid? Taking gabapentin, doesnt help too much. Antihistamines doesnt work (ketotifen too) so not MCAS..Please, tell me which lab tests should I take. Please, I feel like a living dead.