Sudden itchy rash all over body
A random vent about my weird ex
2024.05.16 05:54 __deleted_user_ A random vent about my weird ex
Tw: some mentions of SA
I don’t really know why, but suddenly I have the urge to talk about this.
I can’t stop thinking about instances with my ex it’s haunting my thoughts and making me feel gross.
My ex put me in very weird situations with sex. He was more experienced and older than me at the time. He took my virginity. In hindsight, I was never actually attracted to him I just wanted experience with him. He was my first everything and it was a really weird instance for me. I did have genuine feelings for him, but those faded over time. I remember how excited I was to have sex with him for the first time but he quickly ruined that perception for me.
For the longest time we were not able to have sex at all. My body physically would not let him. His reaction to this was not pleasant I remember he turned away and just said “this has never happened to me before.” And being insanely insecure I cried in bed next to him fully believing something was wrong with my body.
I spent hours online searching for answers coming to the conclusion that I may have vaginismus and I may need to go into intense physical therapy. Turns out I was just never fully attracted to the motherfucker. When we would eventually have sex it would hurt every single time because I was never actually aroused.
It was all a performance for me, I would just imagine I was one of the pornstars he would go home and watch on TV anyway. I hated having sex with him. But I never told him no and even the thought of that now makes me a little nauseous. He would constantly reassure me and be genuinely worried wanting to make sure he wasn’t accidentally SAing me. I reassured him he wasn’t. I still don’t know what to make of it.
I remember oftentimes I would completely disassociate when we would have sex because I hated it so much. I even considered identifying as asexual because I really thought I was. I remember at my breaking point we were about to have sex and I tried my very best to be the best girlfriend I could be and put on a good performance. I cried about a minute in. I pushed him off of me and let it all out that I just could not do this anymore. I felt disgusted. It gave me an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. He genuinely was disturbed and tried to comfort me. Although he always got a fucking boner when I would cry.
I read something recently that triggered these memories and feelings. I don’t know why. I’m in a perfectly healthy relationship now, but these thoughts and feelings have just come up out of nowhere. I’m disgusted in myself for not being honest with him. I’m disgusted he’s the person that took my fucking virginity. I don’t even feel like I should be feeling this way because I never told him no, and I didn’t know in that moment if I wanted to or not.
I don’t know why these feelings are coming up or how to stop them. It’s like I’m processing all of this for the first time.
submitted by __deleted_user_ to offmychest [link] [comments]
I don’t really know why, but suddenly I have the urge to talk about this.
I can’t stop thinking about instances with my ex it’s haunting my thoughts and making me feel gross.
My ex put me in very weird situations with sex. He was more experienced and older than me at the time. He took my virginity. In hindsight, I was never actually attracted to him I just wanted experience with him. He was my first everything and it was a really weird instance for me. I did have genuine feelings for him, but those faded over time. I remember how excited I was to have sex with him for the first time but he quickly ruined that perception for me.
For the longest time we were not able to have sex at all. My body physically would not let him. His reaction to this was not pleasant I remember he turned away and just said “this has never happened to me before.” And being insanely insecure I cried in bed next to him fully believing something was wrong with my body.
I spent hours online searching for answers coming to the conclusion that I may have vaginismus and I may need to go into intense physical therapy. Turns out I was just never fully attracted to the motherfucker. When we would eventually have sex it would hurt every single time because I was never actually aroused.
It was all a performance for me, I would just imagine I was one of the pornstars he would go home and watch on TV anyway. I hated having sex with him. But I never told him no and even the thought of that now makes me a little nauseous. He would constantly reassure me and be genuinely worried wanting to make sure he wasn’t accidentally SAing me. I reassured him he wasn’t. I still don’t know what to make of it.
I remember oftentimes I would completely disassociate when we would have sex because I hated it so much. I even considered identifying as asexual because I really thought I was. I remember at my breaking point we were about to have sex and I tried my very best to be the best girlfriend I could be and put on a good performance. I cried about a minute in. I pushed him off of me and let it all out that I just could not do this anymore. I felt disgusted. It gave me an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. He genuinely was disturbed and tried to comfort me. Although he always got a fucking boner when I would cry.
I read something recently that triggered these memories and feelings. I don’t know why. I’m in a perfectly healthy relationship now, but these thoughts and feelings have just come up out of nowhere. I’m disgusted in myself for not being honest with him. I’m disgusted he’s the person that took my fucking virginity. I don’t even feel like I should be feeling this way because I never told him no, and I didn’t know in that moment if I wanted to or not.
I don’t know why these feelings are coming up or how to stop them. It’s like I’m processing all of this for the first time.
2024.05.16 05:49 ThePokePC This story felt like whiplash, and overall like everything was important but also nothing was important all at the same time.
Scroll to the bottom for to long didnt read haha.
Just finished rebirth and i have to say that the entire story felt like it was trying to mash 10 completely different stories together. The first game ends with the world almost ending and huge fight against sephiroth, then cloud is uh... somewhere? and sephiroth says something about having 7 seconds to save the world. Then part 2 starts and everythings fine kinda, no mention of that 7 second thing ever again haha, but it doesnt really wrap up or pay off almost anything from part 1 or the prequels in any meanignful way and overall felt very filler for the most part to me.
You spend almost all of the story doing nothing towards your goal, going to the beach, arcades, minigames and all sorts of other stuff and then randomly like 2-3 chapters away from the end wutai declare war, kiiinda, its never shown on screen and its pretty much the last time the war is mentioned in the story.
It set up a random out of no where plot with the Gi i think they were called, and then basically never mentions or shows them again.
Introduces a random cetra lost city it hasnt mentioned once and acts like everyone knows what it is, reds like oh yeah ive heard of this place i was sat there like have you because i havent haha.
Starts getting innnconceivable with how many flip flops it does in the end sequence, it goes much more for spectacle than actually making it make sense, people are teleporting evvvverywhere, each new phase of the boss keeps jumping from random place to place, you'll be in a church as zack fighting sephiroth, then playing as red fighting a masssssiive sephiroth (because seph can do that apparently) then you'll be cloud and aerith whos just died fighting sephiroth.
What i mean by this game feels like nothing happened, the end of the first game and end of the second game even though theyre 80 hours apart, are almost scene for scene identical. You fight rufus then Sephiroth starts ending the world, then you fight jenova, then bahamut then finally sephiroth, not only were these three basically the same as the first game, the setup was almost the same. Cloud starts getting headaches then a big wall of spirits appears, then you start of as just cloud and one by one the party get involved. Then you beat sephiroth only for him to escape and the game ends with you going to look for sephiroth. the order of bosses and generally everything that happens is the exact same minus aerith kinda dying.
The boss order is the same, the final few scenes are basically the exact same almost word for word with sephiroth saying the exact same stuff as part 1. Barret even jokes about how its the exact same by saying "Deja vu huh, feels like back on the bridge". Zack is seen in the church saying hes gonna go look for them again (which is litterally how the dlc for the first game ended!!!)
Its just reset everything back to how the first game ended, but this time cait and yuffie are here. But other than aerith no characters died and the plot is in the exact same state as it was at the end of the first game "lets go find sephiroth and save the world" again.
So many plot threads just didnt get resolved, well basically all of them to be fair haha, it tried doing several death scenes then went back on it so fast. Oh no tsengs dying, no wait, nevermind he just stands up and says actaully im fine i'll see you around???? Oh no caits dying, everyones sad like oh no big character death, then next scene is hes back like oh did i not mention i was a robot and have a shit load more bodies (like actually just what haha???) Aerith dies and then within five minutes its like oh wait nevermind now shes even stronger and will help you fight sephiroth haha. It tries doing a sad death but clouds kinda chill about it and is still talking to aerith so its like okay i guess shes dead but also completely fine haha. Then ends with the wutai hooded guy being just a random black robe guy but also sephroth kinda and the whole war was basically just a distraction. Shinra looking for the whales was also a big story thread that was immediately discarded, you fight the woman trying to capture one once and then they abandon that goal and its never mentioned again.
Sephiroth as a whole was barely even used and felt more like a jumpscare than anything, he gets to the black materia, we try to stop him so he summons that giant wall monster thing to stop up but then hes not there when we get passed it??? cait sacrifices himself then jibaits us like im actually totally fine, then we magically get out of there even though the exit is miiiiiles away and through hundreds of spinning room puzzles. then barret tosses the black materia on the floor for some stupid reason (this is absolutely nothing like barret) and it just rolls to sephiroth haahah?? the actaul dumbest way for him to get it. then sephiroth drops it and tells cloud to pick it up and give it back to him so cloud does it and then is like ha bye, cuts the branch so cloud falls, then it pretty much speedrun shits on the entire cool story set up in the other world, biggs does litterally nothing then dies, again. Zack says hes going to find a cure, then hes seen driving up to the door, then hes not looking for the cure and is suddenly back with biggs? guess no cure, then his version of cloud and aerith are fine i guuuuess? then random shinra people attack zack for some reason, he jumps off the cliff but is somehow fine. Is marlene okay in that universe? shes litterally never seen or mentioned again haha. That entire other world was suuuuch a pointless addition, from what ive heard alot of people agree, the end goal is basically the same but with another world and a bunch of new random stuff tacked on that just muddles it all.
We go back to barrets hometown and he immediately leaves and we never get closure on that, thought we'd go back and save the town or something.
Also vincent got sidelined sooooooooooooooooo hard, he got introduced and said he wants to come with us to fight sephiroth and then is legitimately not seen for the entire ending, he doesnt help get the black materia and doesnt even take part in any of the final fights, he was such a pointless addition haha. Same for cait, his whole contribution was failing to find one terminal, then giving our key to shinra who we just follow and go to the place anyway then we forgive him and he rejoins the team straight after, shinra could have just taken it at the tournament without his help and cait wouldnt have betrayed us and the end result would have been litterally the same haha. It was such pointless tacked on drama that didnt even slightly change how the next scenes played out.
All the turks basically do nothing this whole game, they randomly show up for fights and then survive and run off only to come back again and again and again, hojo and roche especially, they just randomly pop in for a fight then leave and add nothing to the narrative.
There was a massive villain introduced in the dlc for the first part who litterally doesnt even get mentioned again other than one flashback with yuffie.
From what ive seen a fair amount of this was new additions that werent in the orignal, its not that i dislike the story, i just hate how little anything has changed since the start of my like 95 hour playthrough. One character has died, and the world is still ending with almost nothing being different other than 2 new party members and a plane.
Too long didnt read:
Absolutely nothing has changed other than aerith kinda dying.
Game 1, ends with the gang looking out into the horizon like "the worlds ending we gotta find sephiroth", zack being at the church like "i gotta find cloud"
Game 2, ends with the gang looking out into the horizon like "the worlds ending we gotta find sephiroth", zack being at the church like "i gotta find cloud"
The other world storyline was such a pointless addition, biggs survived and his whole story ended with him failing to do something and him being like well guess im useless then dying. And zacks whole im gonna cure cloud and aerith ended in nothing because they kinda just get up at some point and go on a date, marlene and the mum also just disappear and are never seen again haha.
No turks die, after like 50 boss battles against them. Reno also just kinda spawns in and decides to help for the climax. Tseng gets stabbed and it does a sad death but then hes like actually you know what im fine imma walk it off.
War is declared with wutai but other than a few dead wutai outisde a reactor nothing was ever shown on screen and i dont even think theyre at war anymore at the end of the game haha.
Sephiroths fine, shinras fine. The world is lush and greeeeen as hell. The planet is supposendly dying, theyve said it for like 200 hours now across all the games, but god dayum it looks healthier than our earth, lush green jungles, deep blue oceans, beautiful desserts haha. could at least kinda make it look like its dying so it feels like somethings changed from the start of game one haha.
Overall good game but good god i can see why so many people are saying the game makes such little sense and goes for spectacle over sense haha. which is fine i guess, it was hype and the ending was great fight wise i just wish it wasnt all the same bosses as the first games ending and ended with the exxxact same cliffhanger.
submitted by ThePokePC to FF7Rebirth [link] [comments]
Just finished rebirth and i have to say that the entire story felt like it was trying to mash 10 completely different stories together. The first game ends with the world almost ending and huge fight against sephiroth, then cloud is uh... somewhere? and sephiroth says something about having 7 seconds to save the world. Then part 2 starts and everythings fine kinda, no mention of that 7 second thing ever again haha, but it doesnt really wrap up or pay off almost anything from part 1 or the prequels in any meanignful way and overall felt very filler for the most part to me.
You spend almost all of the story doing nothing towards your goal, going to the beach, arcades, minigames and all sorts of other stuff and then randomly like 2-3 chapters away from the end wutai declare war, kiiinda, its never shown on screen and its pretty much the last time the war is mentioned in the story.
It set up a random out of no where plot with the Gi i think they were called, and then basically never mentions or shows them again.
Introduces a random cetra lost city it hasnt mentioned once and acts like everyone knows what it is, reds like oh yeah ive heard of this place i was sat there like have you because i havent haha.
Starts getting innnconceivable with how many flip flops it does in the end sequence, it goes much more for spectacle than actually making it make sense, people are teleporting evvvverywhere, each new phase of the boss keeps jumping from random place to place, you'll be in a church as zack fighting sephiroth, then playing as red fighting a masssssiive sephiroth (because seph can do that apparently) then you'll be cloud and aerith whos just died fighting sephiroth.
What i mean by this game feels like nothing happened, the end of the first game and end of the second game even though theyre 80 hours apart, are almost scene for scene identical. You fight rufus then Sephiroth starts ending the world, then you fight jenova, then bahamut then finally sephiroth, not only were these three basically the same as the first game, the setup was almost the same. Cloud starts getting headaches then a big wall of spirits appears, then you start of as just cloud and one by one the party get involved. Then you beat sephiroth only for him to escape and the game ends with you going to look for sephiroth. the order of bosses and generally everything that happens is the exact same minus aerith kinda dying.
The boss order is the same, the final few scenes are basically the exact same almost word for word with sephiroth saying the exact same stuff as part 1. Barret even jokes about how its the exact same by saying "Deja vu huh, feels like back on the bridge". Zack is seen in the church saying hes gonna go look for them again (which is litterally how the dlc for the first game ended!!!)
Its just reset everything back to how the first game ended, but this time cait and yuffie are here. But other than aerith no characters died and the plot is in the exact same state as it was at the end of the first game "lets go find sephiroth and save the world" again.
So many plot threads just didnt get resolved, well basically all of them to be fair haha, it tried doing several death scenes then went back on it so fast. Oh no tsengs dying, no wait, nevermind he just stands up and says actaully im fine i'll see you around???? Oh no caits dying, everyones sad like oh no big character death, then next scene is hes back like oh did i not mention i was a robot and have a shit load more bodies (like actually just what haha???) Aerith dies and then within five minutes its like oh wait nevermind now shes even stronger and will help you fight sephiroth haha. It tries doing a sad death but clouds kinda chill about it and is still talking to aerith so its like okay i guess shes dead but also completely fine haha. Then ends with the wutai hooded guy being just a random black robe guy but also sephroth kinda and the whole war was basically just a distraction. Shinra looking for the whales was also a big story thread that was immediately discarded, you fight the woman trying to capture one once and then they abandon that goal and its never mentioned again.
Sephiroth as a whole was barely even used and felt more like a jumpscare than anything, he gets to the black materia, we try to stop him so he summons that giant wall monster thing to stop up but then hes not there when we get passed it??? cait sacrifices himself then jibaits us like im actually totally fine, then we magically get out of there even though the exit is miiiiiles away and through hundreds of spinning room puzzles. then barret tosses the black materia on the floor for some stupid reason (this is absolutely nothing like barret) and it just rolls to sephiroth haahah?? the actaul dumbest way for him to get it. then sephiroth drops it and tells cloud to pick it up and give it back to him so cloud does it and then is like ha bye, cuts the branch so cloud falls, then it pretty much speedrun shits on the entire cool story set up in the other world, biggs does litterally nothing then dies, again. Zack says hes going to find a cure, then hes seen driving up to the door, then hes not looking for the cure and is suddenly back with biggs? guess no cure, then his version of cloud and aerith are fine i guuuuess? then random shinra people attack zack for some reason, he jumps off the cliff but is somehow fine. Is marlene okay in that universe? shes litterally never seen or mentioned again haha. That entire other world was suuuuch a pointless addition, from what ive heard alot of people agree, the end goal is basically the same but with another world and a bunch of new random stuff tacked on that just muddles it all.
We go back to barrets hometown and he immediately leaves and we never get closure on that, thought we'd go back and save the town or something.
Also vincent got sidelined sooooooooooooooooo hard, he got introduced and said he wants to come with us to fight sephiroth and then is legitimately not seen for the entire ending, he doesnt help get the black materia and doesnt even take part in any of the final fights, he was such a pointless addition haha. Same for cait, his whole contribution was failing to find one terminal, then giving our key to shinra who we just follow and go to the place anyway then we forgive him and he rejoins the team straight after, shinra could have just taken it at the tournament without his help and cait wouldnt have betrayed us and the end result would have been litterally the same haha. It was such pointless tacked on drama that didnt even slightly change how the next scenes played out.
All the turks basically do nothing this whole game, they randomly show up for fights and then survive and run off only to come back again and again and again, hojo and roche especially, they just randomly pop in for a fight then leave and add nothing to the narrative.
There was a massive villain introduced in the dlc for the first part who litterally doesnt even get mentioned again other than one flashback with yuffie.
From what ive seen a fair amount of this was new additions that werent in the orignal, its not that i dislike the story, i just hate how little anything has changed since the start of my like 95 hour playthrough. One character has died, and the world is still ending with almost nothing being different other than 2 new party members and a plane.
Too long didnt read:
Absolutely nothing has changed other than aerith kinda dying.
Game 1, ends with the gang looking out into the horizon like "the worlds ending we gotta find sephiroth", zack being at the church like "i gotta find cloud"
Game 2, ends with the gang looking out into the horizon like "the worlds ending we gotta find sephiroth", zack being at the church like "i gotta find cloud"
The other world storyline was such a pointless addition, biggs survived and his whole story ended with him failing to do something and him being like well guess im useless then dying. And zacks whole im gonna cure cloud and aerith ended in nothing because they kinda just get up at some point and go on a date, marlene and the mum also just disappear and are never seen again haha.
No turks die, after like 50 boss battles against them. Reno also just kinda spawns in and decides to help for the climax. Tseng gets stabbed and it does a sad death but then hes like actually you know what im fine imma walk it off.
War is declared with wutai but other than a few dead wutai outisde a reactor nothing was ever shown on screen and i dont even think theyre at war anymore at the end of the game haha.
Sephiroths fine, shinras fine. The world is lush and greeeeen as hell. The planet is supposendly dying, theyve said it for like 200 hours now across all the games, but god dayum it looks healthier than our earth, lush green jungles, deep blue oceans, beautiful desserts haha. could at least kinda make it look like its dying so it feels like somethings changed from the start of game one haha.
Overall good game but good god i can see why so many people are saying the game makes such little sense and goes for spectacle over sense haha. which is fine i guess, it was hype and the ending was great fight wise i just wish it wasnt all the same bosses as the first games ending and ended with the exxxact same cliffhanger.
2024.05.16 05:43 TheWhistlingWarrior Many of you don't want to hear my testimony, and that's okay... I let go of the need for you to read this, but this is what happened to me... This is the story of how I saw a vision of Jesus, God and Satan, was helped by Thoth, went through the medical system, and learned they have no empathy...
When I was around 13 years old, I was a young stupid teenager, and hanging out with my friends, and we were all saying inflammatory things, and I said, "Yeah, if I turn 30, and I haven't accomplished anything, I'll probably just kill myself." It was an awful thing to say, and I can't believe I said it.
Well, I turned 29. I had probably close to 50 jobs, and had a complete discontentment with my life and civilization, and was contemplating suicide, and then I had a full-blown spiritual awakening, saw a vision of Jesus, God and Satan, and went through an immense dark night of the soul and personal transformation of the heart.
I just have this verse on my heart right now thinking about it, "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits, [Psalm 18:21]" and it just reminds me of what I said when I was a teenager.
I know God heard that and knew that he wasn't going to let me die of suicide. He was watching me the whole time, and he cared about me, and he didn't want to lose me.
Three years ago, I was a 29-year-old man whose life had become defined by isolation. Once curious and engaged with the world in my youth, I had slowly withdrawn into myself from depression, retreating into the comfort of my room in my mother's house. My agnostic atheism left me without a guiding light, and the mundane realities of life, from my dozens of failed jobs to my ongoing struggles with addiction, weighed heavily on my spirit. I found solace instead in the company of strategy games and suffered deeply in the rabbit hole of conspiracies on the internet.
My addictions had become an ever-tightening grip on my life. I found myself reaching for cannabis, alcohol, video games, fast food, and pornography to fill the void that had grown in my heart over the years. My life had become a series of hollow habits, each one leaving me feeling emptier than before. I could no longer deny that something was deeply wrong.
One day, while browsing online, I stumbled upon a post that claimed Thoth, the ancient Egyptian deity of knowledge and wisdom, could help those who asked for his assistance. Intrigued, I wondered if reaching out to Thoth could provide me with the help I needed.
Weeks passed since reading the post, and as I stood in my shower, my thoughts drifted to the crossroads my life seemed to have come to. I asked myself why I was stuck in a cycle of self-destructive behaviors and why I felt such a profound sense of emptiness. The steam from the shower enveloped me as I said aloud, "Thoth, if you are real, I really need your help right now. I don't want to live like this anymore; I don't want to die yet." As I spoke the words, my hand moved from the side of my body, and then to my forehead and heart, while making a hand-sign and I felt at peace.
I was stunned, realizing the hand-sign I had made was eerily similar to ones I had seen in paintings of Jesus. I was stunned but felt an unusual calmness wash over me. As I dried off and dressed, I pondered what had just happened. I went to the full-body mirror in my room, looking at myself. I saw someone I no longer recognized, someone I no longer wanted to be.
Once more, I said, "Thoth, if you are real, will you help me? This isn't who I want to be anymore." I stared at myself in the mirror, and slowly a vision began to form in my eyes. It wasn’t Thoth I saw, but Jesus.
Jesus appeared with long brown hair, a brown beard, brown eyes, and light brown skin. Half of his face was illuminated by light, while the other half was cast in shadow. The vision of Jesus was so vivid that it left me both in awe and at peace. As the vision of him faded, I remember reaching out to him because I didn't want him to go, I could tell he was here to help.
As night fell, I lay in my bed, lost in deep contemplation. I revisited the events of the day, focusing on the vision of Jesus. The clarity of the vision was imprinted on my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it held a deeper meaning. I pondered the nature of good and evil, and how they were intertwined in a complex dance of duality. I found myself questioning whether the traditional view of evil as something to be hated and shunned was truly the right approach. Instead, I began to entertain the idea that perhaps evil people and perhaps even evil itself, could be understood with compassion and empathy, instead of hatred and disgust.
As I continued to ponder, I experienced a peculiar sensation in my head. It was as though something shifted in the center of my brain, around the area of my third eye or pineal gland. There was a slight pop like a tearing or crunching sound, it was not painful, but surprising nonetheless. I then felt a fluid movement from the left hemisphere of my brain to the right hemisphere, using the third eye as a bridge or something. This shift brought me a sense of balance and calmness I had not felt before. I realized I had been living predominantly in the logical part of my brain, instead of emotional side.
As I embraced this newfound state of relaxation, I began to see another vision in my mind. This time, it was God who appeared. God had long white hair, a white beard, and wore white robes and sandals. Then God began dancing, moving with joy and lightheartedness.
Before I could fully process what I was seeing, another figure appeared alongside God. It was Satan, with red skin and horns. Satan seemed curious and playful, attempting to imitate God's dance moves with enthusiasm. The sight of these two seemingly opposing forces dancing together struck me as surreal.
As I watched them dance, I found myself smiling, and really enjoying the moment. Then, my mind wandered to the Russian squat dance, a thought that seemed to come out of nowhere. To my amazement, God began performing the Russian squat dance, his movements precise and fluid. I couldn't help but laugh. It was awesome and hilarious.
Slowly, they both faded away, leaving me in a state of awe and wonder. I realized that my third eye had opened, granting me access to a deeper level of perception and understanding.
I lay in my bed for a few moments, attempting to grasp the profound implications of the vision I had just experienced. The reality of the spiritual world was undeniable now. God, Jesus, Satan, and other spiritual beings were real, their presence deeply embedded within my new understanding. This stark realization overwhelmed me, and I felt an immense fear wash over me, it was like the Eye of Sauron was upon me, or the eye of Satan.
I began pacing frantically around my room, gasping for air as I tried to process the magnitude of my new awareness. My mind felt as if it were on the brink of shattering; I couldn't comprehend what was happening. The very foundation of my reality had shifted, leaving me teetering on the edge of my sanity.
Despite my racing thoughts and heart, I managed to steady myself using deep breathing techniques I had learned in the past from Wim Hof. My frantic pace gradually slowed, and I returned to my bed, trying to make sense of everything.
I deduced that the condition commonly known as schizophrenia might not be what people thought it was. Instead, it could be an individual's heightened sensitivity to the spirit world, a world most people never perceived.
As I lay in bed, still reeling from my panic, I suddenly saw a vision of Satan. He had red skin and horns, and spoke directly to me, expressing admiration for my deduction. Satan confirmed that what I thought was true: many people were speaking to demons, believing themselves to be schizophrenic. This deceptive world was, indeed, a harsh reality.
I tried to take in Satan's words, but a sensation of something being pulled out of me struck me. It felt as though my very soul was being drained from my body. My energy depleted rapidly, and I was overcome by a sense of impending doom. I lost control of my bodily functions, believing that I was moments away from death.
At the moment when I thought I was succumbing to death, I caught sight of an Easter lily I had bought earlier that day, sitting on my desk. The sight of the beautiful lily sparked a powerful desire to live within me. Fueled by a newfound will to survive coursing through me, I leaped out of my bed, and began pacing back and forth in my room once more, gasping for air.
As I walked, I experienced a series of visions featuring characters I admired and found inspiration from—Master Yoda from Star Wars, Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Neo from The Matrix. I realized that God had shown me these characters because they were a source of moral guidance and strength in my life.
My thoughts then turned to the physical pain I was experiencing. My awareness of the spirit world had heightened significantly, causing my brain to start heating up, and I felt a piercing pain and ballooning sensation near my right temple, which deeply concerned me.
Every time I had a thought, I could feel my brain stem wiggle and I would feel pain in my right temple, so I had to learn to still or quiet my mind. Recognizing that I needed to take action to cool my head and relieve the pain, with a sort of just knowing of what I had to do, I resolved to get a large bowl of ice water and head to the basement.
I quietly left my room so as not to wake my mother, who was sleeping in her room nearby, and ventured downstairs to the basement
At this point you could say I was "possessed" by spirits, Thoth, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. I was able to rest my consciousness in my third eye, and the Holy Spirit, Thoth, or Jesus could help me and take move my body to keep me alive. There was no way for me to survive without help.
The holy spirit showed me a specific breathing technique to diffuse the energy in my brain by inhaling through my mouth deeply, and then exhaling through my nose in the water. The vibration of exhaling through my nose into the water would cause my brain to feel soothed for a little while, likely stimulating my vagus nerve too, and I believe it was doing something with the fluid in my brain. When I was able to not be at the water, I had to keep pressure on the center of my forehead to rest in my third eye so they could help me.
I remember pacing between the two sections of my basement, and Thoth was helping me breathe just to stay conscious. One half of the basement was bright with light with concrete floors, which is where the bowl of water was, the washer and drier, a sink, and four litter boxes. On the other side of the basement was dark with a carpeted floor and a wood fireplace. The basement's light was painted in the duality of light and dark.
I remained in the basement until the sun rose, soaking my head in icewater, and pacing back and forth between the dark and light rooms because i would become overly sensitive to one particular room, and I was just trying to breathe to stay conscious. I was battling the spirit of fear the entire night. The fear from my initial awakening and the fear of death over and over again, hundreds if not thousands of times.
I soaked my head in the ice water all night, getting momentary breaks from the water, and certain I was going to die hundreds of times from a brain hemorrhage, I stood on the hard pavement for hours, I remember Jesus was my legs at one point, I could feel him focusing through me to keep me standing. I continuously soaked my head in the ice water to combat the piercing pain and ballooning sensation in my right temple. Throughout the night, I heard voices speaking to me—some belonging to what I would call demons and others to angels.
The demons tried to instill fear in me, convincing me I was going to die. While the angels offered comfort and reassurance, telling me I would be okay. Despite the torment I endured, I found profound inner strength and refused to give up. I remember squeezing my Celtic cross necklace so hard during this time.
The sun rose on the second day, I had been awake all night, I was beyond exhausted. I don't remember all of the specifics of this time, my awakening was very traumatic, but several hours passed and I remember being told that I needed to grab a book and go outside down the street and sit by a tree. I refused, and Satan said, "Do you want to die?" I said "No," and grabbed a book and went outside and walked down the street to a tree and sat with my back leaned against it.
I read my book for about 10 minutes when two women carrying their babies in slings approached me, and asked me what I was reading. I told them the name of the book, Inner Engineering by Sadghuru, and they said that they were doing a prayer walk, and wanted to share the gospel message with me. I knew this was a divine appointment. This was meant to happen.
They shared the gospel message with me, and then offered to let me join their community of house churches, and gave me the number of one of their husbands so I could call and get connected with them.
I spent the rest of the day relaxing, but was unable to sleep and barely ate anything, and once the night fell, I was in the basement again, soaking my head in ice water. I would often get relief during the days when the sun was out, and then at night, it was a brutal spiritual battle all night in the basement where I was fighting for my life.
On the second day, I was in the kitchen, and I had the right side of my head in the ice water, and was moving my head up to breathe in through my mouth, and then I would tilt my head back down and exhale my entire breath out through my nose. I didn't know what I was doing, I was just listening to guidance from what I believe was the holy spirit.
After around 15-20 minutes of intense exhaling through my nose, a ton of white viscous liquid started coming out of my nose, and filling the bowl, it wasn't painful at all, it was a massive relief, and the excess fluid in my head was somehow being drained out. When the process was done, I remember I felt amazing, incredible actually, like my head was clear of all confusion, and I was so very much alive and conscious.
I went outside and was swinging a stick like a sword and having fun, and I think I got a little overzealous and jumped the fence behind my house, and started going on an adventure. After around 3-5 minutes though, the fluid started building back up, and I had to soak my head in a puddle to keep my brain cool. When I returned home, I went back to the water to soak my head. I still hadn't slept.
That night was brutal, and I was suffering badly, and I remember I was sitting on the dark side of the basement, but I had turned on the lamp. I was sitting on pillows, and I had just been soaking my head in the water. Satan then told me that in order to save the world, I would have to die by popping my third eye. I don't know why I believed him, I didn't have discernment at the time, and I was just following whatever guidance was coming my way, but I know that I had to do that to find my true strength.
I sat for a moment and contemplated. I grabbed a wooden walking stick that was nearby, and I moved it to my forehead, and pushed it into the center of my head as hard as I could until my arms literally gave out. I thought of my mom and sister, and I wanted the world to be free from suffering, but I wasn't meant to die that day. I cried very hard, and I learned that the human skull is very strong. I got up and went back to the ice water, and my forehead was numb.
Eventually, after three days and nights of this suffering, following the path God laid out before me, I reached my complete breaking point. I declared to the spirits that I had had enough. I was done soaking my head in ice water and I slowly and bravely removed my head from the bowl of water.
I was shivering so badly. These weren't just cold shivers, these were spiritual shivers, they shake you to your very core. I felt awful. Those who have been delivered will know what I am speaking about when I saw spiritual shivers. I spread out pillows on the floor, and lay down to rest. As I settled in, I pulled the blanket over me, and I remember I felt the comforting presence of Jesus, he was tucking me in.
I slept for just a few hours and awoke up early on Saturday morning. I remember my head hurt and it felt like the left side of my head was full of fluid. I grabbed the bowl of ice water, and this time, however, I decided to sit outside. The pain in my head was still excruciating, and I thought I might die.
My mother saw me outside, and concerned about my well-being, approached me to check if I was okay. I told her to call the ambulance because I needed help, and she quickly complied. When the paramedics arrived, they took me to the hospital, where I hoped I would receive the medical care I desperately needed, but that wasn't what was in store for me.
I got to the hospital, and the medical establishment, unfortunately, has no empathy or concern for people's mental sufferings. I asked them for water to drink because I was so dehydrated, and they wouldn't give me water.
Then, I got admitted to the hospital, and they finally gave me some juice and a snack, and I was starting to relax, but then a voice came into my head, it was Satan, and he made me think I needed to soak my head in the icewater again and expel the white viscous fluid again, so I started panicking a bit and had them bring me a bowl of ice water, and I began soaking my head.
They had probably never seen anything like what I was doing, and thought I was just crazy, because they basically came after me and tied me to the bed, and forcefully injected me with something to make me calm down or sleep, and then they didn't talk to me at all anymore throughout the night.
I am claustrophobic, so being tied down was absolute torture for me. They left me in the dark hospital room suffering all night, tied to the bed, thinking I was going to die the entire night, and then finally the sun rose on the horizon, and when the nurse came in to draw my blood in the morning, I asked them to request security to release me from the restraints. They have no empathy for people. Something is deeply wrong with the medical system.
Anyways, they finally sent me to an in-patient mental health clinic which is honestly just a warehouse for people to take meds, sleep, and eat, away from society. It was honestly a welcome respite, but there's no therapy available at these places. Which means no real internal healing is taking place for people suffering.
Once I got to the in-patient mental health clinic, I spent the first day mostly just relaxing, but there was a man there that was definitely possessed by a demon. He would be shouting a bunch of biblical verses about the kingdom of God, and a lot more, and then he would be on the floor the next, flailing around, being tortured by a demon. One of the other patients there told me he is being tortured by something, and I see what she means now.
I spent the rest of my time there recovering the best I could, and just taking the meds to calm down, and try to get some sleep, and spent time listening to people's stories. One of the girls there told me that the wound on my forehead from when I pushed the wooden staff into my forehead, looked like a cross, and she was right.
When I got out of the in-patient mental health clinic, I called the number that I had received during my three days and nights dark night of the soul.
I joined their community of house churches, and was studying the Bible with them for several months and meeting with them frequently, and I thought I had found my forever friends. We would go on prayer walks, and I was eventually baptized at a lake, and thought that I had a new life of faith waiting for me with new friends.
They were concerned about my well-being and cared about me, but a small part of me felt like I was being controlled by them too, like they wanted me to conform to all of their beliefs and everything in the Bible as fact, and the word of God, and I have always been very sensitive to manipulation since I was a child, and I could tell they were manipulating me. They never left room for me to be myself, and share my beliefs without condemnation, which is a major red flag.
Recognizing this, I distanced myself from them, and went on my own spiritual journey where I spent months conversing with the spirit world in my backyard. walking in circles. I spoke to God and Satan/Lucifer and was trying to come to understanding why Satan would reject God's will.
After some time, I realized I was just being tortured, and I needed help. I was suffering from a lot, and I needed deliverance. Satan had taken up a seat in my mind because I let him, and I had demons hurting me. I reached out to the Christian group again after several months of being distant from them, and they said there was an opportunity to move in with some Christian brothers and live with them, so I jumped on the opportunity. I was so excited. I was on fire for God.
I got to the house, and moved my stuff in, and then the night fell on the first night, and the enemy was not having it. The demons and Satan were not having it. They did NOT want me living with my brothers in Christ because they knew I was detached from all the boxes of thought control, and I was living in the spirit, wasn't a slave of mind or spirit. They wanted to destroy our relationship, between us, the brothers of Christ, and they did.
I don't remember the exact sequence of events, but I was entirely in the spirit at the time, I was detached from my body in a way, and just following the path laid out before me. I could feel that I needed to go outside and walk the neighborhood as a part of my spiritual path, so I left the house, and walked barefoot throughout the neighborhood.
While walking the neighborhood, I was in full spirit mode, I was communicating with God and Jesus, and they were guiding me on my path. I saw visions of them sitting beside a tree and trimming off rotten fruit, which I think was symbolic of them removing rotten fruit from my mind. I also saw them sweeping out a room and cleaning it, as if symbolic of my mind, and them cleaning my mind and purifying it. I also remember seeing a symbolic vision of myself holding up a golden gemstone encrusted goblet to God.
During that night, I declared war on the principalities of darkness. Against the forces of darkness. I saw skulls in the clouds, and could tell they were communicating with me as they are spirits of the air.
My feet were bloodied from walking around the neighborhood barefoot, I was completely lost all night, I was new to the neighborhood too, and had no idea where I was, so I wandered for hours throughout the night, so hungry, tired, and thirsty, and just physically and mentally exhausted, but I endured. That night made me realize how strong I really am when I let go of everything and trust in God. When I completely become the spirit instead of the body. The human body is incredible and capable of withstanding far more than we know.
Finally, I found my way to the house, and my footsteps were spilling blood on the front porch. The door was locked, and I knocked, and one of the brothers let me in, and I went to my bedroom. I couldn't sleep at all, my mind was very active, it was very similar to when I had my spiritual awakening, I was just unable to sleep because of how active my mind was. I spent the whole night awake.
The next day, I was suffering horrible spiritual attack, my head was in pain and I was holding my head just to feel comfortable, and one of the brothers called a friend of theirs to come and do a deliverance. I remember them being very bold, but gentle... firm, but kind to me, as they expelled some of the demons through prayer. It wasn't a painful deliverance or too exhausting, it was gentle by comparison. I felt much better after the deliverance, hungry and thirsty again, and wanted to nourish my body. I spent the rest of the day relaxing a bit, and listening to the other believers talk about the Bible, and their beliefs.
That night, I was delivered again, and it was awful. My brothers in Christ shouldn't have done the deliverance, but I don't know if I even would have made the rest of the night it if they didn't. I think the holy spirit guided them to do the deliverance, but it went out of control.
I was in my room, suffering deeply, holding my head, and all three brothers who lived there came up to my room to check on me, and pray for me. Their prayers turned into a full blown deliverance, and demons were screaming out of me for around half an hour straight. They were casting them out in the name of Jesus, but it was awful, it's one of my most traumatic memories. I was suffering so badly, and honestly I could tell the demons were suffering so badly, and my brothers in Christ had zero empathy for me.
After speaking with demons, the brothers wanted to speak with me again, so I came to, I asked them for water, and they denied me, and they just continued the deliverance without giving me a break. I had been suffering for around 45 minutes straight, with demons screaming out of me, and I was beyond exhausted, I was so dehydrated, and I just needed to stop. They didn't care, they kept going.
They kept shouting at these demons in the name of Jesus to leave, and eventually after another ten minutes, I realized, nothing was happening, we weren't getting anywhere, the demons weren't coming out, and they asked to speak with me again, and I came to the forefront and regained control, and tried talking to them, but they were gone. The demons had got into them somehow, and they were filled with hatred and revulsion for me. They all had the same facial expression of hatred and revulsion for me.
I went around the room and pleaded with them that it was me, but they didn't believe me, they were gone, checked out, I tried bringing up memories of what had happened between us that were specific to each person to bring them to understanding that it was me, and in fact not a demon speaking, but they thought I was a demon speaking.
They all grabbed ahold of me, and pinned me down on the bed, but I knew where this was going, the demons in them were going to flood me with fear and fill me with demons again, and I wasn't going to have that, I wasn't going to let them win.
I flailed out of their grasp, told them to get off me, and ran down the stairs and out of the house. I remember as I was running out, Satan told me, "You are the most free person on the planet."
I ran outside, and even the weight of my clothes felt like too much, I was panicking from the trauma of the deliverance and the attack from my brothers, and I stripped off all my clothes and ran down the alley way in the middle of the night and got away from the house.
There were no light, and no one around, and no one followed me, so I just ran down the alley way, and found an abandoned car to sit on for a few minutes until I got a message from God that it was time to go grab my clothes and put my clothes on.
I put my clothes back on, and started walking away from the house because I needed to get some air. That is when one of the other brother's in Christ, the one that I had called initially to join their community of house churches, was there. I think he was guided by the holy spirit to show up there that night.
Anyways, we walked back to the house, and when we got there, there was a cop car and an ambulance there. I guess the brothers had called for a wellness check on me. They wanted to bring me to the hospital to have me evaluated. I protested, but just wanted them to leave me alone, I went with them, and went to the hospital.
Much to no one's surprise, they did nothing for me at the hospital. They just put me in a room where I waited around for 6-8 hours, until I was finally released. I didn't go back to the brother's house though. When they offered me an uber, I went back to my mom's house. I wasn't going to live with them anymore after what they did to me...
A couple weeks passed and two of the brothers who did the deliverance called me, and wanted to schedule a time to meet up so they could minister to me. They came over to my house, and basically told me that I was still demon possessed, and made me feel like there was something wrong with me, and then when I confronted them and asked them if they had a problem with me, they lied to my face, and said that they didn't have a problem with me.
About a month passed and the last brother that was a part of deliverance contacted me and invited me to go to church with him. I told him how that experience made me feel, how I was claustrophobic from childhood trauma and that being pinned down by everyone was horribly traumatic, and he said, "Do you feel better now?" in a sarcastic tone. He completely dismissed how I felt, that hurt me badly.
I went to church with him once, but never went with him again, I also never reconnected with any of the other brothers, and then my life started to become very spiritual. God had a path of understanding laid out before me that most people will not tread.
I began to try to become friends with demons and minister to them and try to turn them to Christ. I had a lot of visions during this time, and I cried a lot. I would walk around my neighborhood and see visions of demons sitting on top of the apartment buildings.
When I would go home, I would have visions of demons in my basement, and would have to drive them out in the name of Jesus. I would speak to them too, and wait and listen for them to telepathically communicate with me.
I remember I was suffering badly though, and I needed to go to in-patient mental health again for help. I needed the meds and a place where I could rest and relax.
During my time there, I was communicating with a spirit named Jezebel, and during that time I was suffering very badly. I won't get into all of the details, but I was becoming friends with her, and we shared a deep laugh about something that I cannot remember anymore, but I remember the laugh. It felt so good to laugh after suffering so badly.
During my time while I was there I was seeing visions of my own death. I was seeing people suffering from demonic attack and spirits of confusion. They couldn't remember who they were, or who other people were.
I prayed for a woman to be delivered that night in her sleep, and the next day she was bright and fresh and happy, and doing so much better. God performed a miracle on her, and saved her. She was a normal person again after entering the hospital in a complete state of confusion. It was miraculous. I was honestly jealous, because I was suffering so badly, and she was delivered overnight in her sleep in a relaxed way, while my time had been so intense.
While I was there though, I was under heavy attack, but I pulled through, God pulled me through too, but when I got home, the journey wasn't over though. I was in a spiritual state for a while, and was seeing visions. I could rest in my third eye, and see the spirit world. It was exhausting, I saw a lot of demons, and had to drive them out in the name of Jesus.
Then one night, I was downstairs, and I was with Satan, Lilith, and a spirit calling itself Baal. I remember Baal was sitting in the middle in front of the fireplace, and Satan was to my left, and Lilith was to my right.
I don't remember what we spoke about, I just spent time with them, and I drank a beer with them, the air was heavy with demonic energy, and then I remember Lilith went over to Satan and kneeled before him, and grabbed him by the hand tenderly and asked him to turn away from his evil ways.
Satan neither accepted nor refused, and then I remember maybe 5 minutes passed and I was doing a full-blown deliverance on Lilith. I was praying for her, and I could see visions of her on the ground flailing around, it was awful, and I hope she is okay.
I don't know how long after that passed, but I was delivered many times during this phase. I was around demons a lot and they would get into me, and I would have to expel them out through vomiting, and it was excruciating.
Several months passed after that where I was okay, I spent months just relaxing and recovering, playing video games, smoking weed, and just relaxing. It was nice, but it wasn't the end of my journey.
My next journey was against Thoth. While he was a great help at the beginning of my spiritual awakening, he is not a perfect being like God, and he tried to overtake me. It's really hard to explain what he did, but he was viciously attacking me spiritually, and I sought help to go to the in-patient mental health clinic again. That was where I went when things got too spiritually charged. I had Medicaid, so I was able to go as needed.
They didn't send me to in-patient this time though, they sent me to a crisis pivot center, which is basically a residential house that is being used to treat people suffering from mental illness, where you can receive meds and sleep in a sort of half-way house between in-patient mental health and being back in the world at home.
Anyways, I was suffering grotesquely from Thoth, he is a VERY powerful entity, perhaps one of the strongest I have faced, and has been more cruel to me than even Satan, and I remember having a conversation with one of the people working there about how I had asked a false God at the beginning of my spiritual awakening for help to fix my life, and how that had caused a bunch of problems.
Eventually, I realized I was not receiving the care that I needed while at the crisis center, so I had them transfer me to hospital. All I wanted to do was sleep. I had been awake for days, and I just wanted sleep, so I was looking for Ambien when I went to the hospital, and that's what I got.
I remember they had admitted me to the emergency, but it was so full that every room was full, so they had me in the hallway, and I was just exhausted, and in a very tired state, but my third eye was opened, and I could sense spirits around me, and Satan, Lilith, and Jezebel were there for me that night.
They were hovering over my bed, and speaking to me telepathically, and asking me if I was okay, they were genuinely concerned for me, and wanted to know if I was okay. It was kind of shocking to be honest. These entities are not known for being nice in any way, but they were there for me that night, and God let them be there for me that night, instead of Jesus or someone else, which i find interesting.
This moment and seeing Lilith kneel before Satan made me realize that entities that we think are pure evil, are more dynamic than just evil. They may have evil in them, or have the ability to evil actions, but they can also be good and support others, like they did with me when I was in such an exhausted and vulnerable state after being delivered from Thoth.
I made it back home, and some time passed and I was in a very spiritual moment. My third eye was very awakened. It seems to happen in cycles. That night was a blizzard, and the air was heavy with demonic energy. This time it was the demiurge.
I remember I had dozens if not hundreds of demons in my room, and they were swirling above my bed, and I kept trying to lay down because I was so exhausted, and I kept being told to not lay down because I would squish a spirit, so I chose to not lay down.
I was whistling the avatar theme for the spirits to uplift them and make them feel better, and during this time I was being possessed by spirits. The room was heavy with spiritual energy.
So much happened that I don't want to get into, but it all lead to me being outside in the blizzard, in the snow storm, naked, and laying down in the snow. I had to be very cold for some reason while interacting with these demons, to keep them from overtaking me, and I remember I had to leave my house behind entirely.
My mom came outside before I left the house and I could feel demonic energy, evil spirits, all around her. There was a presence of wrath around her, and she was angry with me, because I had flooded the bathroom of the house while trying to get cold in the shower.
I left the house, there was a foot of snow on the ground, and I was naked and wandering down the street. I would check in with what I thought was God every once in a while to figure out what was happening with the demons in my bedroom.
For some reason when I would have a thought it would affect them in my room. That's really complicated to get into, and I don't understand it, but regardless, I wandered down the street and around the corner, and that is when the police got me.
They handcuffed me, and put me in the back of the police cruiser, and I remember telling God that the Matrix has me. The police called an ambulance, and they came to get me, I remember they transferred me to the ambulance, and they covered me with blankets, but I didn't want to be warm, I didn't have any control over this situation.
My body started to shut down, and I was struggling to even breathe, and that's when the demiurge appeared. They started speaking to me, and controlling my body to keep me breathing, and that's when I submitted to them, thinking that I was on my own, and God had abandoned me. I told them to fill me with demons, and that I would become a demon lord.
As I would breathe, I could feel demons entering me, spirits. When I got to the hospital, I was possessed by a lot of spirits, and my body was in agony. It's very hard to explain what it feels like, but just imagine discordant energy in your body that makes you feel awful, and physically hurts.
I struggled the entire night, and was in absolute agony. After 6-8 hours I was recovered and feeling better, they had admitted me to the hospital at this time, so I was able to rest in a room and eat plenty of food and recover.
My experience with the demiurge was really traumatic though, but that wasn't the end of my experiences with him.
... to be continued...
submitted by TheWhistlingWarrior to Christianity [link] [comments]
Well, I turned 29. I had probably close to 50 jobs, and had a complete discontentment with my life and civilization, and was contemplating suicide, and then I had a full-blown spiritual awakening, saw a vision of Jesus, God and Satan, and went through an immense dark night of the soul and personal transformation of the heart.
I just have this verse on my heart right now thinking about it, "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits, [Psalm 18:21]" and it just reminds me of what I said when I was a teenager.
I know God heard that and knew that he wasn't going to let me die of suicide. He was watching me the whole time, and he cared about me, and he didn't want to lose me.
Three years ago, I was a 29-year-old man whose life had become defined by isolation. Once curious and engaged with the world in my youth, I had slowly withdrawn into myself from depression, retreating into the comfort of my room in my mother's house. My agnostic atheism left me without a guiding light, and the mundane realities of life, from my dozens of failed jobs to my ongoing struggles with addiction, weighed heavily on my spirit. I found solace instead in the company of strategy games and suffered deeply in the rabbit hole of conspiracies on the internet.
My addictions had become an ever-tightening grip on my life. I found myself reaching for cannabis, alcohol, video games, fast food, and pornography to fill the void that had grown in my heart over the years. My life had become a series of hollow habits, each one leaving me feeling emptier than before. I could no longer deny that something was deeply wrong.
One day, while browsing online, I stumbled upon a post that claimed Thoth, the ancient Egyptian deity of knowledge and wisdom, could help those who asked for his assistance. Intrigued, I wondered if reaching out to Thoth could provide me with the help I needed.
Weeks passed since reading the post, and as I stood in my shower, my thoughts drifted to the crossroads my life seemed to have come to. I asked myself why I was stuck in a cycle of self-destructive behaviors and why I felt such a profound sense of emptiness. The steam from the shower enveloped me as I said aloud, "Thoth, if you are real, I really need your help right now. I don't want to live like this anymore; I don't want to die yet." As I spoke the words, my hand moved from the side of my body, and then to my forehead and heart, while making a hand-sign and I felt at peace.
I was stunned, realizing the hand-sign I had made was eerily similar to ones I had seen in paintings of Jesus. I was stunned but felt an unusual calmness wash over me. As I dried off and dressed, I pondered what had just happened. I went to the full-body mirror in my room, looking at myself. I saw someone I no longer recognized, someone I no longer wanted to be.
Once more, I said, "Thoth, if you are real, will you help me? This isn't who I want to be anymore." I stared at myself in the mirror, and slowly a vision began to form in my eyes. It wasn’t Thoth I saw, but Jesus.
Jesus appeared with long brown hair, a brown beard, brown eyes, and light brown skin. Half of his face was illuminated by light, while the other half was cast in shadow. The vision of Jesus was so vivid that it left me both in awe and at peace. As the vision of him faded, I remember reaching out to him because I didn't want him to go, I could tell he was here to help.
As night fell, I lay in my bed, lost in deep contemplation. I revisited the events of the day, focusing on the vision of Jesus. The clarity of the vision was imprinted on my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it held a deeper meaning. I pondered the nature of good and evil, and how they were intertwined in a complex dance of duality. I found myself questioning whether the traditional view of evil as something to be hated and shunned was truly the right approach. Instead, I began to entertain the idea that perhaps evil people and perhaps even evil itself, could be understood with compassion and empathy, instead of hatred and disgust.
As I continued to ponder, I experienced a peculiar sensation in my head. It was as though something shifted in the center of my brain, around the area of my third eye or pineal gland. There was a slight pop like a tearing or crunching sound, it was not painful, but surprising nonetheless. I then felt a fluid movement from the left hemisphere of my brain to the right hemisphere, using the third eye as a bridge or something. This shift brought me a sense of balance and calmness I had not felt before. I realized I had been living predominantly in the logical part of my brain, instead of emotional side.
As I embraced this newfound state of relaxation, I began to see another vision in my mind. This time, it was God who appeared. God had long white hair, a white beard, and wore white robes and sandals. Then God began dancing, moving with joy and lightheartedness.
Before I could fully process what I was seeing, another figure appeared alongside God. It was Satan, with red skin and horns. Satan seemed curious and playful, attempting to imitate God's dance moves with enthusiasm. The sight of these two seemingly opposing forces dancing together struck me as surreal.
As I watched them dance, I found myself smiling, and really enjoying the moment. Then, my mind wandered to the Russian squat dance, a thought that seemed to come out of nowhere. To my amazement, God began performing the Russian squat dance, his movements precise and fluid. I couldn't help but laugh. It was awesome and hilarious.
Slowly, they both faded away, leaving me in a state of awe and wonder. I realized that my third eye had opened, granting me access to a deeper level of perception and understanding.
I lay in my bed for a few moments, attempting to grasp the profound implications of the vision I had just experienced. The reality of the spiritual world was undeniable now. God, Jesus, Satan, and other spiritual beings were real, their presence deeply embedded within my new understanding. This stark realization overwhelmed me, and I felt an immense fear wash over me, it was like the Eye of Sauron was upon me, or the eye of Satan.
I began pacing frantically around my room, gasping for air as I tried to process the magnitude of my new awareness. My mind felt as if it were on the brink of shattering; I couldn't comprehend what was happening. The very foundation of my reality had shifted, leaving me teetering on the edge of my sanity.
Despite my racing thoughts and heart, I managed to steady myself using deep breathing techniques I had learned in the past from Wim Hof. My frantic pace gradually slowed, and I returned to my bed, trying to make sense of everything.
I deduced that the condition commonly known as schizophrenia might not be what people thought it was. Instead, it could be an individual's heightened sensitivity to the spirit world, a world most people never perceived.
As I lay in bed, still reeling from my panic, I suddenly saw a vision of Satan. He had red skin and horns, and spoke directly to me, expressing admiration for my deduction. Satan confirmed that what I thought was true: many people were speaking to demons, believing themselves to be schizophrenic. This deceptive world was, indeed, a harsh reality.
I tried to take in Satan's words, but a sensation of something being pulled out of me struck me. It felt as though my very soul was being drained from my body. My energy depleted rapidly, and I was overcome by a sense of impending doom. I lost control of my bodily functions, believing that I was moments away from death.
At the moment when I thought I was succumbing to death, I caught sight of an Easter lily I had bought earlier that day, sitting on my desk. The sight of the beautiful lily sparked a powerful desire to live within me. Fueled by a newfound will to survive coursing through me, I leaped out of my bed, and began pacing back and forth in my room once more, gasping for air.
As I walked, I experienced a series of visions featuring characters I admired and found inspiration from—Master Yoda from Star Wars, Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Neo from The Matrix. I realized that God had shown me these characters because they were a source of moral guidance and strength in my life.
My thoughts then turned to the physical pain I was experiencing. My awareness of the spirit world had heightened significantly, causing my brain to start heating up, and I felt a piercing pain and ballooning sensation near my right temple, which deeply concerned me.
Every time I had a thought, I could feel my brain stem wiggle and I would feel pain in my right temple, so I had to learn to still or quiet my mind. Recognizing that I needed to take action to cool my head and relieve the pain, with a sort of just knowing of what I had to do, I resolved to get a large bowl of ice water and head to the basement.
I quietly left my room so as not to wake my mother, who was sleeping in her room nearby, and ventured downstairs to the basement
At this point you could say I was "possessed" by spirits, Thoth, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. I was able to rest my consciousness in my third eye, and the Holy Spirit, Thoth, or Jesus could help me and take move my body to keep me alive. There was no way for me to survive without help.
The holy spirit showed me a specific breathing technique to diffuse the energy in my brain by inhaling through my mouth deeply, and then exhaling through my nose in the water. The vibration of exhaling through my nose into the water would cause my brain to feel soothed for a little while, likely stimulating my vagus nerve too, and I believe it was doing something with the fluid in my brain. When I was able to not be at the water, I had to keep pressure on the center of my forehead to rest in my third eye so they could help me.
I remember pacing between the two sections of my basement, and Thoth was helping me breathe just to stay conscious. One half of the basement was bright with light with concrete floors, which is where the bowl of water was, the washer and drier, a sink, and four litter boxes. On the other side of the basement was dark with a carpeted floor and a wood fireplace. The basement's light was painted in the duality of light and dark.
I remained in the basement until the sun rose, soaking my head in icewater, and pacing back and forth between the dark and light rooms because i would become overly sensitive to one particular room, and I was just trying to breathe to stay conscious. I was battling the spirit of fear the entire night. The fear from my initial awakening and the fear of death over and over again, hundreds if not thousands of times.
I soaked my head in the ice water all night, getting momentary breaks from the water, and certain I was going to die hundreds of times from a brain hemorrhage, I stood on the hard pavement for hours, I remember Jesus was my legs at one point, I could feel him focusing through me to keep me standing. I continuously soaked my head in the ice water to combat the piercing pain and ballooning sensation in my right temple. Throughout the night, I heard voices speaking to me—some belonging to what I would call demons and others to angels.
The demons tried to instill fear in me, convincing me I was going to die. While the angels offered comfort and reassurance, telling me I would be okay. Despite the torment I endured, I found profound inner strength and refused to give up. I remember squeezing my Celtic cross necklace so hard during this time.
The sun rose on the second day, I had been awake all night, I was beyond exhausted. I don't remember all of the specifics of this time, my awakening was very traumatic, but several hours passed and I remember being told that I needed to grab a book and go outside down the street and sit by a tree. I refused, and Satan said, "Do you want to die?" I said "No," and grabbed a book and went outside and walked down the street to a tree and sat with my back leaned against it.
I read my book for about 10 minutes when two women carrying their babies in slings approached me, and asked me what I was reading. I told them the name of the book, Inner Engineering by Sadghuru, and they said that they were doing a prayer walk, and wanted to share the gospel message with me. I knew this was a divine appointment. This was meant to happen.
They shared the gospel message with me, and then offered to let me join their community of house churches, and gave me the number of one of their husbands so I could call and get connected with them.
I spent the rest of the day relaxing, but was unable to sleep and barely ate anything, and once the night fell, I was in the basement again, soaking my head in ice water. I would often get relief during the days when the sun was out, and then at night, it was a brutal spiritual battle all night in the basement where I was fighting for my life.
On the second day, I was in the kitchen, and I had the right side of my head in the ice water, and was moving my head up to breathe in through my mouth, and then I would tilt my head back down and exhale my entire breath out through my nose. I didn't know what I was doing, I was just listening to guidance from what I believe was the holy spirit.
After around 15-20 minutes of intense exhaling through my nose, a ton of white viscous liquid started coming out of my nose, and filling the bowl, it wasn't painful at all, it was a massive relief, and the excess fluid in my head was somehow being drained out. When the process was done, I remember I felt amazing, incredible actually, like my head was clear of all confusion, and I was so very much alive and conscious.
I went outside and was swinging a stick like a sword and having fun, and I think I got a little overzealous and jumped the fence behind my house, and started going on an adventure. After around 3-5 minutes though, the fluid started building back up, and I had to soak my head in a puddle to keep my brain cool. When I returned home, I went back to the water to soak my head. I still hadn't slept.
That night was brutal, and I was suffering badly, and I remember I was sitting on the dark side of the basement, but I had turned on the lamp. I was sitting on pillows, and I had just been soaking my head in the water. Satan then told me that in order to save the world, I would have to die by popping my third eye. I don't know why I believed him, I didn't have discernment at the time, and I was just following whatever guidance was coming my way, but I know that I had to do that to find my true strength.
I sat for a moment and contemplated. I grabbed a wooden walking stick that was nearby, and I moved it to my forehead, and pushed it into the center of my head as hard as I could until my arms literally gave out. I thought of my mom and sister, and I wanted the world to be free from suffering, but I wasn't meant to die that day. I cried very hard, and I learned that the human skull is very strong. I got up and went back to the ice water, and my forehead was numb.
Eventually, after three days and nights of this suffering, following the path God laid out before me, I reached my complete breaking point. I declared to the spirits that I had had enough. I was done soaking my head in ice water and I slowly and bravely removed my head from the bowl of water.
I was shivering so badly. These weren't just cold shivers, these were spiritual shivers, they shake you to your very core. I felt awful. Those who have been delivered will know what I am speaking about when I saw spiritual shivers. I spread out pillows on the floor, and lay down to rest. As I settled in, I pulled the blanket over me, and I remember I felt the comforting presence of Jesus, he was tucking me in.
I slept for just a few hours and awoke up early on Saturday morning. I remember my head hurt and it felt like the left side of my head was full of fluid. I grabbed the bowl of ice water, and this time, however, I decided to sit outside. The pain in my head was still excruciating, and I thought I might die.
My mother saw me outside, and concerned about my well-being, approached me to check if I was okay. I told her to call the ambulance because I needed help, and she quickly complied. When the paramedics arrived, they took me to the hospital, where I hoped I would receive the medical care I desperately needed, but that wasn't what was in store for me.
I got to the hospital, and the medical establishment, unfortunately, has no empathy or concern for people's mental sufferings. I asked them for water to drink because I was so dehydrated, and they wouldn't give me water.
Then, I got admitted to the hospital, and they finally gave me some juice and a snack, and I was starting to relax, but then a voice came into my head, it was Satan, and he made me think I needed to soak my head in the icewater again and expel the white viscous fluid again, so I started panicking a bit and had them bring me a bowl of ice water, and I began soaking my head.
They had probably never seen anything like what I was doing, and thought I was just crazy, because they basically came after me and tied me to the bed, and forcefully injected me with something to make me calm down or sleep, and then they didn't talk to me at all anymore throughout the night.
I am claustrophobic, so being tied down was absolute torture for me. They left me in the dark hospital room suffering all night, tied to the bed, thinking I was going to die the entire night, and then finally the sun rose on the horizon, and when the nurse came in to draw my blood in the morning, I asked them to request security to release me from the restraints. They have no empathy for people. Something is deeply wrong with the medical system.
Anyways, they finally sent me to an in-patient mental health clinic which is honestly just a warehouse for people to take meds, sleep, and eat, away from society. It was honestly a welcome respite, but there's no therapy available at these places. Which means no real internal healing is taking place for people suffering.
Once I got to the in-patient mental health clinic, I spent the first day mostly just relaxing, but there was a man there that was definitely possessed by a demon. He would be shouting a bunch of biblical verses about the kingdom of God, and a lot more, and then he would be on the floor the next, flailing around, being tortured by a demon. One of the other patients there told me he is being tortured by something, and I see what she means now.
I spent the rest of my time there recovering the best I could, and just taking the meds to calm down, and try to get some sleep, and spent time listening to people's stories. One of the girls there told me that the wound on my forehead from when I pushed the wooden staff into my forehead, looked like a cross, and she was right.
When I got out of the in-patient mental health clinic, I called the number that I had received during my three days and nights dark night of the soul.
I joined their community of house churches, and was studying the Bible with them for several months and meeting with them frequently, and I thought I had found my forever friends. We would go on prayer walks, and I was eventually baptized at a lake, and thought that I had a new life of faith waiting for me with new friends.
They were concerned about my well-being and cared about me, but a small part of me felt like I was being controlled by them too, like they wanted me to conform to all of their beliefs and everything in the Bible as fact, and the word of God, and I have always been very sensitive to manipulation since I was a child, and I could tell they were manipulating me. They never left room for me to be myself, and share my beliefs without condemnation, which is a major red flag.
Recognizing this, I distanced myself from them, and went on my own spiritual journey where I spent months conversing with the spirit world in my backyard. walking in circles. I spoke to God and Satan/Lucifer and was trying to come to understanding why Satan would reject God's will.
After some time, I realized I was just being tortured, and I needed help. I was suffering from a lot, and I needed deliverance. Satan had taken up a seat in my mind because I let him, and I had demons hurting me. I reached out to the Christian group again after several months of being distant from them, and they said there was an opportunity to move in with some Christian brothers and live with them, so I jumped on the opportunity. I was so excited. I was on fire for God.
I got to the house, and moved my stuff in, and then the night fell on the first night, and the enemy was not having it. The demons and Satan were not having it. They did NOT want me living with my brothers in Christ because they knew I was detached from all the boxes of thought control, and I was living in the spirit, wasn't a slave of mind or spirit. They wanted to destroy our relationship, between us, the brothers of Christ, and they did.
I don't remember the exact sequence of events, but I was entirely in the spirit at the time, I was detached from my body in a way, and just following the path laid out before me. I could feel that I needed to go outside and walk the neighborhood as a part of my spiritual path, so I left the house, and walked barefoot throughout the neighborhood.
While walking the neighborhood, I was in full spirit mode, I was communicating with God and Jesus, and they were guiding me on my path. I saw visions of them sitting beside a tree and trimming off rotten fruit, which I think was symbolic of them removing rotten fruit from my mind. I also saw them sweeping out a room and cleaning it, as if symbolic of my mind, and them cleaning my mind and purifying it. I also remember seeing a symbolic vision of myself holding up a golden gemstone encrusted goblet to God.
During that night, I declared war on the principalities of darkness. Against the forces of darkness. I saw skulls in the clouds, and could tell they were communicating with me as they are spirits of the air.
My feet were bloodied from walking around the neighborhood barefoot, I was completely lost all night, I was new to the neighborhood too, and had no idea where I was, so I wandered for hours throughout the night, so hungry, tired, and thirsty, and just physically and mentally exhausted, but I endured. That night made me realize how strong I really am when I let go of everything and trust in God. When I completely become the spirit instead of the body. The human body is incredible and capable of withstanding far more than we know.
Finally, I found my way to the house, and my footsteps were spilling blood on the front porch. The door was locked, and I knocked, and one of the brothers let me in, and I went to my bedroom. I couldn't sleep at all, my mind was very active, it was very similar to when I had my spiritual awakening, I was just unable to sleep because of how active my mind was. I spent the whole night awake.
The next day, I was suffering horrible spiritual attack, my head was in pain and I was holding my head just to feel comfortable, and one of the brothers called a friend of theirs to come and do a deliverance. I remember them being very bold, but gentle... firm, but kind to me, as they expelled some of the demons through prayer. It wasn't a painful deliverance or too exhausting, it was gentle by comparison. I felt much better after the deliverance, hungry and thirsty again, and wanted to nourish my body. I spent the rest of the day relaxing a bit, and listening to the other believers talk about the Bible, and their beliefs.
That night, I was delivered again, and it was awful. My brothers in Christ shouldn't have done the deliverance, but I don't know if I even would have made the rest of the night it if they didn't. I think the holy spirit guided them to do the deliverance, but it went out of control.
I was in my room, suffering deeply, holding my head, and all three brothers who lived there came up to my room to check on me, and pray for me. Their prayers turned into a full blown deliverance, and demons were screaming out of me for around half an hour straight. They were casting them out in the name of Jesus, but it was awful, it's one of my most traumatic memories. I was suffering so badly, and honestly I could tell the demons were suffering so badly, and my brothers in Christ had zero empathy for me.
After speaking with demons, the brothers wanted to speak with me again, so I came to, I asked them for water, and they denied me, and they just continued the deliverance without giving me a break. I had been suffering for around 45 minutes straight, with demons screaming out of me, and I was beyond exhausted, I was so dehydrated, and I just needed to stop. They didn't care, they kept going.
They kept shouting at these demons in the name of Jesus to leave, and eventually after another ten minutes, I realized, nothing was happening, we weren't getting anywhere, the demons weren't coming out, and they asked to speak with me again, and I came to the forefront and regained control, and tried talking to them, but they were gone. The demons had got into them somehow, and they were filled with hatred and revulsion for me. They all had the same facial expression of hatred and revulsion for me.
I went around the room and pleaded with them that it was me, but they didn't believe me, they were gone, checked out, I tried bringing up memories of what had happened between us that were specific to each person to bring them to understanding that it was me, and in fact not a demon speaking, but they thought I was a demon speaking.
They all grabbed ahold of me, and pinned me down on the bed, but I knew where this was going, the demons in them were going to flood me with fear and fill me with demons again, and I wasn't going to have that, I wasn't going to let them win.
I flailed out of their grasp, told them to get off me, and ran down the stairs and out of the house. I remember as I was running out, Satan told me, "You are the most free person on the planet."
I ran outside, and even the weight of my clothes felt like too much, I was panicking from the trauma of the deliverance and the attack from my brothers, and I stripped off all my clothes and ran down the alley way in the middle of the night and got away from the house.
There were no light, and no one around, and no one followed me, so I just ran down the alley way, and found an abandoned car to sit on for a few minutes until I got a message from God that it was time to go grab my clothes and put my clothes on.
I put my clothes back on, and started walking away from the house because I needed to get some air. That is when one of the other brother's in Christ, the one that I had called initially to join their community of house churches, was there. I think he was guided by the holy spirit to show up there that night.
Anyways, we walked back to the house, and when we got there, there was a cop car and an ambulance there. I guess the brothers had called for a wellness check on me. They wanted to bring me to the hospital to have me evaluated. I protested, but just wanted them to leave me alone, I went with them, and went to the hospital.
Much to no one's surprise, they did nothing for me at the hospital. They just put me in a room where I waited around for 6-8 hours, until I was finally released. I didn't go back to the brother's house though. When they offered me an uber, I went back to my mom's house. I wasn't going to live with them anymore after what they did to me...
A couple weeks passed and two of the brothers who did the deliverance called me, and wanted to schedule a time to meet up so they could minister to me. They came over to my house, and basically told me that I was still demon possessed, and made me feel like there was something wrong with me, and then when I confronted them and asked them if they had a problem with me, they lied to my face, and said that they didn't have a problem with me.
About a month passed and the last brother that was a part of deliverance contacted me and invited me to go to church with him. I told him how that experience made me feel, how I was claustrophobic from childhood trauma and that being pinned down by everyone was horribly traumatic, and he said, "Do you feel better now?" in a sarcastic tone. He completely dismissed how I felt, that hurt me badly.
I went to church with him once, but never went with him again, I also never reconnected with any of the other brothers, and then my life started to become very spiritual. God had a path of understanding laid out before me that most people will not tread.
I began to try to become friends with demons and minister to them and try to turn them to Christ. I had a lot of visions during this time, and I cried a lot. I would walk around my neighborhood and see visions of demons sitting on top of the apartment buildings.
When I would go home, I would have visions of demons in my basement, and would have to drive them out in the name of Jesus. I would speak to them too, and wait and listen for them to telepathically communicate with me.
I remember I was suffering badly though, and I needed to go to in-patient mental health again for help. I needed the meds and a place where I could rest and relax.
During my time there, I was communicating with a spirit named Jezebel, and during that time I was suffering very badly. I won't get into all of the details, but I was becoming friends with her, and we shared a deep laugh about something that I cannot remember anymore, but I remember the laugh. It felt so good to laugh after suffering so badly.
During my time while I was there I was seeing visions of my own death. I was seeing people suffering from demonic attack and spirits of confusion. They couldn't remember who they were, or who other people were.
I prayed for a woman to be delivered that night in her sleep, and the next day she was bright and fresh and happy, and doing so much better. God performed a miracle on her, and saved her. She was a normal person again after entering the hospital in a complete state of confusion. It was miraculous. I was honestly jealous, because I was suffering so badly, and she was delivered overnight in her sleep in a relaxed way, while my time had been so intense.
While I was there though, I was under heavy attack, but I pulled through, God pulled me through too, but when I got home, the journey wasn't over though. I was in a spiritual state for a while, and was seeing visions. I could rest in my third eye, and see the spirit world. It was exhausting, I saw a lot of demons, and had to drive them out in the name of Jesus.
Then one night, I was downstairs, and I was with Satan, Lilith, and a spirit calling itself Baal. I remember Baal was sitting in the middle in front of the fireplace, and Satan was to my left, and Lilith was to my right.
I don't remember what we spoke about, I just spent time with them, and I drank a beer with them, the air was heavy with demonic energy, and then I remember Lilith went over to Satan and kneeled before him, and grabbed him by the hand tenderly and asked him to turn away from his evil ways.
Satan neither accepted nor refused, and then I remember maybe 5 minutes passed and I was doing a full-blown deliverance on Lilith. I was praying for her, and I could see visions of her on the ground flailing around, it was awful, and I hope she is okay.
I don't know how long after that passed, but I was delivered many times during this phase. I was around demons a lot and they would get into me, and I would have to expel them out through vomiting, and it was excruciating.
Several months passed after that where I was okay, I spent months just relaxing and recovering, playing video games, smoking weed, and just relaxing. It was nice, but it wasn't the end of my journey.
My next journey was against Thoth. While he was a great help at the beginning of my spiritual awakening, he is not a perfect being like God, and he tried to overtake me. It's really hard to explain what he did, but he was viciously attacking me spiritually, and I sought help to go to the in-patient mental health clinic again. That was where I went when things got too spiritually charged. I had Medicaid, so I was able to go as needed.
They didn't send me to in-patient this time though, they sent me to a crisis pivot center, which is basically a residential house that is being used to treat people suffering from mental illness, where you can receive meds and sleep in a sort of half-way house between in-patient mental health and being back in the world at home.
Anyways, I was suffering grotesquely from Thoth, he is a VERY powerful entity, perhaps one of the strongest I have faced, and has been more cruel to me than even Satan, and I remember having a conversation with one of the people working there about how I had asked a false God at the beginning of my spiritual awakening for help to fix my life, and how that had caused a bunch of problems.
Eventually, I realized I was not receiving the care that I needed while at the crisis center, so I had them transfer me to hospital. All I wanted to do was sleep. I had been awake for days, and I just wanted sleep, so I was looking for Ambien when I went to the hospital, and that's what I got.
I remember they had admitted me to the emergency, but it was so full that every room was full, so they had me in the hallway, and I was just exhausted, and in a very tired state, but my third eye was opened, and I could sense spirits around me, and Satan, Lilith, and Jezebel were there for me that night.
They were hovering over my bed, and speaking to me telepathically, and asking me if I was okay, they were genuinely concerned for me, and wanted to know if I was okay. It was kind of shocking to be honest. These entities are not known for being nice in any way, but they were there for me that night, and God let them be there for me that night, instead of Jesus or someone else, which i find interesting.
This moment and seeing Lilith kneel before Satan made me realize that entities that we think are pure evil, are more dynamic than just evil. They may have evil in them, or have the ability to evil actions, but they can also be good and support others, like they did with me when I was in such an exhausted and vulnerable state after being delivered from Thoth.
I made it back home, and some time passed and I was in a very spiritual moment. My third eye was very awakened. It seems to happen in cycles. That night was a blizzard, and the air was heavy with demonic energy. This time it was the demiurge.
I remember I had dozens if not hundreds of demons in my room, and they were swirling above my bed, and I kept trying to lay down because I was so exhausted, and I kept being told to not lay down because I would squish a spirit, so I chose to not lay down.
I was whistling the avatar theme for the spirits to uplift them and make them feel better, and during this time I was being possessed by spirits. The room was heavy with spiritual energy.
So much happened that I don't want to get into, but it all lead to me being outside in the blizzard, in the snow storm, naked, and laying down in the snow. I had to be very cold for some reason while interacting with these demons, to keep them from overtaking me, and I remember I had to leave my house behind entirely.
My mom came outside before I left the house and I could feel demonic energy, evil spirits, all around her. There was a presence of wrath around her, and she was angry with me, because I had flooded the bathroom of the house while trying to get cold in the shower.
I left the house, there was a foot of snow on the ground, and I was naked and wandering down the street. I would check in with what I thought was God every once in a while to figure out what was happening with the demons in my bedroom.
For some reason when I would have a thought it would affect them in my room. That's really complicated to get into, and I don't understand it, but regardless, I wandered down the street and around the corner, and that is when the police got me.
They handcuffed me, and put me in the back of the police cruiser, and I remember telling God that the Matrix has me. The police called an ambulance, and they came to get me, I remember they transferred me to the ambulance, and they covered me with blankets, but I didn't want to be warm, I didn't have any control over this situation.
My body started to shut down, and I was struggling to even breathe, and that's when the demiurge appeared. They started speaking to me, and controlling my body to keep me breathing, and that's when I submitted to them, thinking that I was on my own, and God had abandoned me. I told them to fill me with demons, and that I would become a demon lord.
As I would breathe, I could feel demons entering me, spirits. When I got to the hospital, I was possessed by a lot of spirits, and my body was in agony. It's very hard to explain what it feels like, but just imagine discordant energy in your body that makes you feel awful, and physically hurts.
I struggled the entire night, and was in absolute agony. After 6-8 hours I was recovered and feeling better, they had admitted me to the hospital at this time, so I was able to rest in a room and eat plenty of food and recover.
My experience with the demiurge was really traumatic though, but that wasn't the end of my experiences with him.
... to be continued...
2024.05.16 05:23 Key-Nail-1302 Is this hives? Pictures included.
I’m 22F. Smoker. Take immunosuppressants.
Recently I started getting these raised and itchy bumps all over my body that are hot to the touch. Not sure if I should be concerned.
https://ibb.co/h8JZ59c
https://ibb.co/Ch3zf4X
https://ibb.co/5sDQDkW
https://ibb.co/GCFQqGk
Thanks!
submitted by Key-Nail-1302 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
Recently I started getting these raised and itchy bumps all over my body that are hot to the touch. Not sure if I should be concerned.
https://ibb.co/h8JZ59c
https://ibb.co/Ch3zf4X
https://ibb.co/5sDQDkW
https://ibb.co/GCFQqGk
Thanks!
2024.05.16 05:01 como365 50-hour filibuster forces more negotiations on GOP-backed initiative petition changes • “Are the bullies going to win?” Rizzo asked. “Or is the rest of the Senate finally going to stand up for itself and say ‘no more.’”
 | A 50-hour Democratic filibuster forced the Senate’s divided GOP majority to finally yield Wednesday evening, stalling a vote on a bill seeking to make it more difficult to amend Missouri’s constitution. submitted by como365 to missouri [link] [comments] Democrats have blocked all action in the Senate since Monday afternoon, demanding that the legislation be stripped of “ballot candy” that would bar non-citizens from voting and ban foreign entities from contributing to or sponsoring constitutional amendments, both of which are already illegal. The Senate passed the bill without ballot candy in February. The House added it back last month. Senate Minority Leader John Rizzo, an Independence Democrat, on Tuesday said the situation presented an existential crisis for the Senate, as Republicans openly considered a rarely-used maneuver to kill the filibuster and force a vote on the bill. “Are the bullies going to win?” Rizzo asked. “Or is the rest of the Senate finally going to stand up for itself and say ‘no more.’” He got an answer just before 4:30 p.m. Wednesday, when state Sen. Mary Elizabeth Coleman, an Arnold Republican and the bill’s sponsor, surprised many of her colleagues by asking that the Senate send the bill back to the House for more negotiations on whether to include “ballot candy.” Republicans simply didn’t have the votes to kill the filibuster, she said, and Democrats showed no signs of relenting before session ends at 6 p.m. Friday. “These policies are too important to play political games with,” Coleman said, adding that going to conference to work out a deal with the House was the only way to keep it alive in the face of unrelenting Democratic opposition. “In a perfect world, we would not be between a rock and a hard place.” The sudden change in tactics was not well-taken by members of the Freedom Caucus, who argued sending the bill back to the House with only two days left before adjournment puts its chances at risk. Tim Jones, a former Missouri House speaker and current director of the state’s Freedom Caucus, wrote on social media Thursday evening that Coleman “effectively killed her own bill today.” Ultimately, the Senate voted 18-13 to send the bill to conference, with nine Republicans joining nine Democrats in support of the move. If the bill passes, Missourians would have the opportunity to vote later this year on whether or not to require constitutional amendments be approved by both a majority of votes statewide and a majority of votes in five of the state’s eight congressional districts. Right now, amendments pass with a simple majority. A possible vote on abortion in November is a catalyst behind the battle over the bill, as a campaign to legalize abortion up to the point of fetal viability is on the path to the statewide ballot. Republicans have said that without raising the threshold for changing the state’s constitution, a constitutional right to abortion will likely become the law of the land in Missouri. State Sen. Rick Brattin, a Harrisonville Republican and a member of the Freedom Caucus, tipped his hat to the Democrats’ “wherewithal” before scorning some of his Republican colleagues. “Unfortunately, this Republican Party has no backbone to fight for what is right for life,” he shouted from the Senate floor. “ … They will have the blood of the innocent on their heads. Shame on this party.” Coleman’s move also came as a surprise to state Rep. Alex Riley, a Republican from Springfield who sponsored the initiative petition bill in the House. “We’re going to have to have some conversations tonight to figure out what exactly it is they have in mind,” he said. “We will be having many conversations over the next few hours.” House Speaker Dean Plocher said he was pleased to see the impasse broken, adding that the House is ready to work on a final version that can be passed. He didn’t promise to remove the “ballot candy” added by the House. Asked if Coleman made a tactical mistake in telling the House to restore the items removed during the first Democratic filibuster, Plocher said he hadn’t spoken to Coleman and declined to speculate on whether the outcome would have been different had she not. Democrats left the Senate Wednesday evening declaring victory. “This body by and large is a staunch supporter of democracy. That doesn’t just go for one side of the isle. That goes for both sides,” Rizzo said. “This is not protecting the ballot for Democrats or Republicans or one issue or the other issue that you might like or dislike. This protects the ballot box for Republicans and Democrats alike for the future.” Rizzo maintained that removing the ballot candy is still the only way Democrats will allow the bill to get through the Senate if it returns from the House. “If you haven’t figured that out in the last three or four days, I don’t know where you’ve been,” Rizzo said, adding: “Hopefully sleeping.” As the Senate prepared to vote, state Sen. Bill Eigel, a Weldon Spring Republican and Freedom Caucus member, warned his colleagues not to be optimistic that the Senate will come back Thursday and pass other bills waiting in the pipeline. “If the hope is that this process is going to somehow lead us back to a place of engaging more legislation besides this, I’m gonna say this very clearly,” he said. “Don’t get your hopes up.” |
2024.05.16 04:47 Haha_ADHD_go_brrrrrr 28 [M4F] #Louisiana or #Online - Cute nerd with lost puppy energy seeking life partner!
And I'm not just a cute nerd because I'm serious and sudden onset! badum tiss
I'm also a 5'7'' sorta thin white dude with long black hair, and I think that's kinda neat. I'm big into PC gaming, not that you have to be, but if you are, it's something that I'd love to do together! My interests also extend to things like Pokemon, anime, a couple books (Kingkiller Chronicles is GREAT), and I have a peace lily named Alphinaud! I am quite introverted, so I've always found it hard to make friends, even over the internet. Still, I have a lot of love to give, storing it all inside this rock I've been living under, and just looking for the right person to give it all to.
The kind of person I'm looking for is mostly just someone that genuinely enjoys my company. I want someone that will laugh at all of my stupid jokes, or at least the funny ones. Body type isn't super important to me either, bodybuilder, BBW, or anything in between, its always been more about the person inside, to me. I want someone super affectionate, caring, and gentle with me. Someone who can take the lead, too! I once spent five minutes in the breakfast aisle paralyzed about what cereal to get. I want someone I can fall in love with, to say "good morning" and "good night" to every day, someone I am excited to wake up and see next to me, give me that fairy tale love that everyone craves but few people find!
• Could be talked into DMing for you and your friends
• I still have not seen the Lord of the Rings movies
• I am absolutely full of dumb, awful jokes
• Once, I built a forge out of an old bbq grill and give hobby blacksmithing a try!
• I know how to solve a rubik's cube! Not particularly fast, mind you, but I can!
So yeah, I guess that's it? If any of this has interested you, any of it at all, don't hesitate to drop me a message or PM! I'm happy to move to discord whenever, and I'm also okay with exchanging pics once we've chatted a little. Thanks for reading, and have a great evening!
submitted by Haha_ADHD_go_brrrrrr to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]
I'm also a 5'7'' sorta thin white dude with long black hair, and I think that's kinda neat. I'm big into PC gaming, not that you have to be, but if you are, it's something that I'd love to do together! My interests also extend to things like Pokemon, anime, a couple books (Kingkiller Chronicles is GREAT), and I have a peace lily named Alphinaud! I am quite introverted, so I've always found it hard to make friends, even over the internet. Still, I have a lot of love to give, storing it all inside this rock I've been living under, and just looking for the right person to give it all to.
The kind of person I'm looking for is mostly just someone that genuinely enjoys my company. I want someone that will laugh at all of my stupid jokes, or at least the funny ones. Body type isn't super important to me either, bodybuilder, BBW, or anything in between, its always been more about the person inside, to me. I want someone super affectionate, caring, and gentle with me. Someone who can take the lead, too! I once spent five minutes in the breakfast aisle paralyzed about what cereal to get. I want someone I can fall in love with, to say "good morning" and "good night" to every day, someone I am excited to wake up and see next to me, give me that fairy tale love that everyone craves but few people find!
• Could be talked into DMing for you and your friends
• I still have not seen the Lord of the Rings movies
• I am absolutely full of dumb, awful jokes
• Once, I built a forge out of an old bbq grill and give hobby blacksmithing a try!
• I know how to solve a rubik's cube! Not particularly fast, mind you, but I can!
So yeah, I guess that's it? If any of this has interested you, any of it at all, don't hesitate to drop me a message or PM! I'm happy to move to discord whenever, and I'm also okay with exchanging pics once we've chatted a little. Thanks for reading, and have a great evening!
2024.05.16 04:32 Numerous-Size-131 Can you describe your experience with the word “connection” (emotional connection, human connection)?
Hi. I’m an autistic dude in my 30’s. For context, I’ve avoided interacting face to face with people pretty much my whole life. I have a really hard time with the word “connection” as it pertains to interpersonal relationships. I think the core disconnect is that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced “connection”. Or if I have, I didn’t naturally apply that name to it. I’m trying to puzzle it out because:
1) apparently women want an emotional connection in relationships/before sex. I’ve sought out dating/sex my whole adult life. The crushes that I’ve had dates with, I just felt amazing around that person. That’s as far as I understood it and then they would ghost me after 1 or 2 dates. I had no idea that what women want is an emotional connection. Now that I know that, I’m trying to figure out what the hell that actually means.
2) I need to know the actual definition of the word, because I need to know if I’m making a connection with someone. What am I supposed to feel in my body? What is supposed to actually happen? What is the other person supposed to feel or do? I can’t make progress towards being emotionally connected until I know these things. My current friendships are quite shallow (apparently), so clearly emotional connection doesn’t “just happen” for me. I need to be able to know what I’m doing and if I’m making progress so that I can correct course if I’m not doing it right, or if I am doing it right, tell myself “keep doing what you’re doing”.
I’ll start with what got me thinking about it again and then what my history with the word is.
So the other day I was hanging out with some friends and there’s one guy in the group who is dating. He apparently had been out multiple times with this girl he met on a dating app. I know I’m supposed to be happy for him, but when I hear about this sort of thing, I’m just baffled. How did he have a conversation with her over the app? What did they start with? It seems to have something to do with connection, I guess. I seemingly don’t know how to have a conversation, and that’s not something I could’ve asked him, people just look at me weird when I say something ultra-beginner like “how do I have a conversation”. It just pissed me off because this dude is recently divorced and he’s already been on multiple dates with this other woman. This is the 3rd friend I’ve had that has been divorced and started dating again, and they all get further than me in 1/10th the time! The other two friends are already re-married! Meanwhile I’ve never made it past a 2nd date. So clearly I’m missing something.
My friend was talking about said girl and ended it with “connection! That’s the important thing!” Which is what got me confused and thinking about the word.
So, from my perspective, “human connection” is a totally new idea to me. I literally never heard anyone in any capacity, whether it be online, face to face, or in media of any kind, talk about “connection”, emotional connection, or human connection. Then all of a sudden a few years ago people started saying it all the time. Not everyone, but I’ve heard it from multiple people now. Many people have said that it’s the most important thing on earth. Why is something that many people consider to be the most important thing on earth…something that wasn’t even on my radar until a few years ago? What the hell?
My confusion comes in because I can’t tell what my friend’s history with the word is. Is he just as clueless as I am, and is just using the word because they’ve heard other people say it and their best guess is that what they are experiencing is connection? Or did they experience a connection at some earlier point in their life and somehow someone was able to label it as “connection” for him? Does it somehow feel like a “connection” so people naturally apply that label? Maybe his family frequently talked about connection? That seems weird though because it seems impossible to talk about “human connection” with the people you might connect with - people seem to get really uncomfortable with it. I guess because if you don’t know what an emotional connection is, and they do, they probably don’t want to be around you.
Looking it up, the term emotional intelligence was coined in 1990. It seems like that’s around the same time “emotional connection” was coined. So….the most important thing on earth didn’t have a name until 1990? What? What did people in the 70’s say to refer to it? Did they not have connections? What did people in the 1920’s say without this term existing? I just don’t get how something so recent is supposedly so crucial to being a human and interacting with others.
Furthermore, what does it say about my life that I had only heard this term recently? I’m not thinking like “boo hoo for me, his life is better”, more like “other people have been living in an alternate reality to me where connection is very important and for some reason they never helped me with this concept, and they won’t help explain it to me now because I’m supposed to just get it. And they think this experience of connection is universal and everyone gets it.” Not understanding it seems to signal to them that I haven’t been living in their reality.
So what’s your history with the word? Did you have a “connection” with someone, and then, not having heard the word, you said to yourself “this feels like a connection!”. Or had you heard the word first and then applied it to your situation once you had a connection with someone? Do you feel as weird about it as I do, like you missed the memo that said the definition of the word and told everyone to start using it? Did your family talk about the concept when you were growing up?
I wasn’t sure where to post this, so if you have a recommendation for a sub where I can ask people that are understanding of Autism, but also has NT people on the sub, I’m all ears.
submitted by Numerous-Size-131 to AutismTranslated [link] [comments]
1) apparently women want an emotional connection in relationships/before sex. I’ve sought out dating/sex my whole adult life. The crushes that I’ve had dates with, I just felt amazing around that person. That’s as far as I understood it and then they would ghost me after 1 or 2 dates. I had no idea that what women want is an emotional connection. Now that I know that, I’m trying to figure out what the hell that actually means.
2) I need to know the actual definition of the word, because I need to know if I’m making a connection with someone. What am I supposed to feel in my body? What is supposed to actually happen? What is the other person supposed to feel or do? I can’t make progress towards being emotionally connected until I know these things. My current friendships are quite shallow (apparently), so clearly emotional connection doesn’t “just happen” for me. I need to be able to know what I’m doing and if I’m making progress so that I can correct course if I’m not doing it right, or if I am doing it right, tell myself “keep doing what you’re doing”.
I’ll start with what got me thinking about it again and then what my history with the word is.
So the other day I was hanging out with some friends and there’s one guy in the group who is dating. He apparently had been out multiple times with this girl he met on a dating app. I know I’m supposed to be happy for him, but when I hear about this sort of thing, I’m just baffled. How did he have a conversation with her over the app? What did they start with? It seems to have something to do with connection, I guess. I seemingly don’t know how to have a conversation, and that’s not something I could’ve asked him, people just look at me weird when I say something ultra-beginner like “how do I have a conversation”. It just pissed me off because this dude is recently divorced and he’s already been on multiple dates with this other woman. This is the 3rd friend I’ve had that has been divorced and started dating again, and they all get further than me in 1/10th the time! The other two friends are already re-married! Meanwhile I’ve never made it past a 2nd date. So clearly I’m missing something.
My friend was talking about said girl and ended it with “connection! That’s the important thing!” Which is what got me confused and thinking about the word.
So, from my perspective, “human connection” is a totally new idea to me. I literally never heard anyone in any capacity, whether it be online, face to face, or in media of any kind, talk about “connection”, emotional connection, or human connection. Then all of a sudden a few years ago people started saying it all the time. Not everyone, but I’ve heard it from multiple people now. Many people have said that it’s the most important thing on earth. Why is something that many people consider to be the most important thing on earth…something that wasn’t even on my radar until a few years ago? What the hell?
My confusion comes in because I can’t tell what my friend’s history with the word is. Is he just as clueless as I am, and is just using the word because they’ve heard other people say it and their best guess is that what they are experiencing is connection? Or did they experience a connection at some earlier point in their life and somehow someone was able to label it as “connection” for him? Does it somehow feel like a “connection” so people naturally apply that label? Maybe his family frequently talked about connection? That seems weird though because it seems impossible to talk about “human connection” with the people you might connect with - people seem to get really uncomfortable with it. I guess because if you don’t know what an emotional connection is, and they do, they probably don’t want to be around you.
Looking it up, the term emotional intelligence was coined in 1990. It seems like that’s around the same time “emotional connection” was coined. So….the most important thing on earth didn’t have a name until 1990? What? What did people in the 70’s say to refer to it? Did they not have connections? What did people in the 1920’s say without this term existing? I just don’t get how something so recent is supposedly so crucial to being a human and interacting with others.
Furthermore, what does it say about my life that I had only heard this term recently? I’m not thinking like “boo hoo for me, his life is better”, more like “other people have been living in an alternate reality to me where connection is very important and for some reason they never helped me with this concept, and they won’t help explain it to me now because I’m supposed to just get it. And they think this experience of connection is universal and everyone gets it.” Not understanding it seems to signal to them that I haven’t been living in their reality.
So what’s your history with the word? Did you have a “connection” with someone, and then, not having heard the word, you said to yourself “this feels like a connection!”. Or had you heard the word first and then applied it to your situation once you had a connection with someone? Do you feel as weird about it as I do, like you missed the memo that said the definition of the word and told everyone to start using it? Did your family talk about the concept when you were growing up?
I wasn’t sure where to post this, so if you have a recommendation for a sub where I can ask people that are understanding of Autism, but also has NT people on the sub, I’m all ears.
2024.05.16 04:00 LightnitePYT I feel like this might be cringe to some people, but I'm posting it anyways
I recently started working on a fan-made Season 9 Episode 1 script of House MD. It's very much in its earlier stages, and so far, I only have an intro to the whole thing. No actual story development yet, and this intro will also change as well. If people genuinely enjoy it, I might make more updates in the future, but for now, this is all I have!
(WARNING - If you haven't watched the last season of House MD yet, some of the dialogue WILL spoil things for you!)
[Open on a tiny bit of light, squeezing its way through the hospital window. The light shines on House’s head, as he’s sitting down, facing down towards the ground.]
Drip, drip, drip… The dripping sounds of the chemo continued to echo throughout the silent hospital room, until it was interrupted by the sounds of dull footsteps inviting themselves into the room.
Unknown Doctor: Excuse me, are you Kyle Calloway?
House: Yes. And… Unless this is more important than my friend’s afternoon death, make this quick. Pretty please?
[House says in his sarcastic tone, with the ‘pretty please’ being high-pitched, almost like a little girl.]
Unknown Doctor: Um… Well, sir, we may need some kind of registration from you. Some of the other doctors here have started to notice that you resemble another very well-known doctor, who was recently deceased due to a–
House: [cutting off the Doctor] Yeah yeah yeah, I get it, you think I’m some kind of doctor with the ability to revive myself from the dead. Gosh, isn’t that what doctors do on a daily basis? Cure dead people or something?
[House begins to stand up using his cane, nearly shouting his sarcasm in the Doctor’s face.]
House: I mean, pfft, I’m a doctor, so I should totally know this! Remind me, doctor, what chapter was the Frankenstein unit on again? I mean, like, it completely slipped my mind! Faster than my friend here slipping into the–
[Suddenly, a noise is heard from the hospital bed. It’s Wilson, trying to move desperately into a different sleeping position. Even with all his given effort, he is unable to move into a different position. He is way too weak to do so. However, he still has some lasting energy to cut off House’s sarcasm.]
Wilson: You’re an ass.
[Both House and the Doctor stare back at Wilson, both snapping out of their argument.]
Unknown Doctor: I think I’ll just…
[The Doctor walks outside of the hospital room, leaving both House and Wilson by themselves.]
Wilson: It hurts, House.
House: I know. It’ll be over soon.
Wilson: You promised, House. I don’t wanna die… In a hospital room.
House: [attempting to ignore Wilson’s comment about his promise] Have you thought about what you’re gonna say to all the cancer patients you failed to save?
Wilson: sigh My point still stands. You’re an ass, House.
House: [softening & lowering his voice] What about Amber?
Wilson: What… About her? [Wilson is almost set back by this comment, puzzled.]
House: You know what you’re gonna tell her once you… Y’know.
Wilson: But I thought you didn’t believe in heaven?...
[All of a sudden, House shouts, filled with deep grief.]
House: I DON’T!
[His voice nearly echoes in the hospital room, filling up the empty space. There’s almost a 4-5 second pause before any of them say another word.]
Wilson: I love you.
House: What?
Wilson: That’s what I’ll tell her. I love you.
House: Not bad.
Wilson: I swear House, if you didn’t bring me into this damn place, I wouldn’t need to be hooked up to all this chemo! I swear to–
[Wilson starts to cough vigorously, nearly suffocating on his own words.]
House: Hey, hey! Take it easy.
Wilson: So… cough cough are you just gonna keep ignoring me until I’m dead?
[House pauses for a moment, thinking of what to say next.]
House: I brought you here, because… I lied. I care about you Wilson, I–
Wilson: DON’T– do that, House. You think if you can control everything around you, that your whole world can magically heal itself! Yet, the more you do any of it, you kill off everyone else around you… Even yourself, apparently.
[Another pause begins before Wilson continues onwards.]
Wilson: Not everything is about you, House. So, for once in your damn life, stop trying to be a healer, and try to be a–
House: I love you.
Wilson: What?
House: And your life did matter.
Wilson: Huh… [Wilson pauses for a moment, thinking to himself as he stares at the ceiling. He then looks back at House.]
Wilson: I believe you.
House: [squinting his eyes, looking back at Wilson] No, you don’t.
[Both of them chuckle simultaneously, in a way only two truly close friends would be able to.]
House: I mean, really… How many doctors have you met that have taken part in a porno before their careers?
Wilson: Alright, now you’re really pushing it!
[Another pause continues to take place, followed by a silent chuckle from both of them, again.]
Wilson: Everybody lies, right?
House: Yeah.
Wilson: Guess it’s just a matter of what for.
[Another awkward pause takes place, this time, without any chuckling.]
Wilson: Hey, H-House?...
House: Yeah?
[Suddenly, Wilson starts wheezing intensively, almost like he’s getting his entire soul sucked out of his body. The heart monitor begins beeping intensely, as Wilson continues to gasp for a breath of air.]
House: NURSE! NURSE!
[3 Nurses arrive at the scene, attempting to fix the unknown problem.]
House: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?! THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN AN EASY DECLINE, INSTEAD HE SOUNDS LIKE HE’S BEING POISONED BY GAS!
Nurse 1: Sir, we are trying our best to figure this ou–
House: WELL, YOUR BEST ISN’T ENOUGH! MY BEST FRIEND IS HERE WHEEZING HIMSELF TO DEATH AND ALL YOU CAN DO IS NOTHING!
[Wilson continues to wheeze intensively, with each wheeze getting weaker and weaker.]
House: DO SOMETHING, OR I WILL!
Nurse 2: Sir, we need you to get out of this room right away!
[Nurse 2 and Nurse 3 push House outside of the hospital room, whilst also blocking him access to open the door with the chair he was sitting on previously.]
House: banging on the glass door HEY! LET ME BACK IN! I’M A DOCTOR! JUST LET ME–
[Suddenly, Wilson’s wheezing completely stops, as the heart monitor flatlines. Almost like the world had completely stopped, House looks at Wilson’s face, probably for the last time. He pauses on his face for another 5-10 seconds, until his eyes begin to turn red from the tears forming in his eyes.]
[Shot changes to a hallway, with the Doctor from before speed walking with two other hospital police officers following right behind her.]
Unknown Doctor: There he is! He’s right—
[However, House was already gone, which surprised both the Doctor and the hospital police officers.]
[Shot changes to House in his car right outside the unknown hospital he was just in, looking down at his pager. With a dull face and tears still in his eyes, he clicks on Wilson’s messages. The shot then changes back to House’s pager, with the last message being sent by House, talking about whether or not Wilson wanted to come to a Monster Truck event that was happening later in the same week. There was no response back from Wilson. Then, for the first time, House sheds an actual tear, which is only shown as it drops on his last message to Wilson on his pager. Cut to black.]
[Massive Attack’s Teardrop]
submitted by LightnitePYT to HouseMD [link] [comments]
(WARNING - If you haven't watched the last season of House MD yet, some of the dialogue WILL spoil things for you!)
– ACT 1 –
Welcome Home
Drip, drip, drip…[Open on a tiny bit of light, squeezing its way through the hospital window. The light shines on House’s head, as he’s sitting down, facing down towards the ground.]
Drip, drip, drip… The dripping sounds of the chemo continued to echo throughout the silent hospital room, until it was interrupted by the sounds of dull footsteps inviting themselves into the room.
Unknown Doctor: Excuse me, are you Kyle Calloway?
House: Yes. And… Unless this is more important than my friend’s afternoon death, make this quick. Pretty please?
[House says in his sarcastic tone, with the ‘pretty please’ being high-pitched, almost like a little girl.]
Unknown Doctor: Um… Well, sir, we may need some kind of registration from you. Some of the other doctors here have started to notice that you resemble another very well-known doctor, who was recently deceased due to a–
House: [cutting off the Doctor] Yeah yeah yeah, I get it, you think I’m some kind of doctor with the ability to revive myself from the dead. Gosh, isn’t that what doctors do on a daily basis? Cure dead people or something?
[House begins to stand up using his cane, nearly shouting his sarcasm in the Doctor’s face.]
House: I mean, pfft, I’m a doctor, so I should totally know this! Remind me, doctor, what chapter was the Frankenstein unit on again? I mean, like, it completely slipped my mind! Faster than my friend here slipping into the–
[Suddenly, a noise is heard from the hospital bed. It’s Wilson, trying to move desperately into a different sleeping position. Even with all his given effort, he is unable to move into a different position. He is way too weak to do so. However, he still has some lasting energy to cut off House’s sarcasm.]
Wilson: You’re an ass.
[Both House and the Doctor stare back at Wilson, both snapping out of their argument.]
Unknown Doctor: I think I’ll just…
[The Doctor walks outside of the hospital room, leaving both House and Wilson by themselves.]
Wilson: It hurts, House.
House: I know. It’ll be over soon.
Wilson: You promised, House. I don’t wanna die… In a hospital room.
House: [attempting to ignore Wilson’s comment about his promise] Have you thought about what you’re gonna say to all the cancer patients you failed to save?
Wilson: sigh My point still stands. You’re an ass, House.
House: [softening & lowering his voice] What about Amber?
Wilson: What… About her? [Wilson is almost set back by this comment, puzzled.]
House: You know what you’re gonna tell her once you… Y’know.
Wilson: But I thought you didn’t believe in heaven?...
[All of a sudden, House shouts, filled with deep grief.]
House: I DON’T!
[His voice nearly echoes in the hospital room, filling up the empty space. There’s almost a 4-5 second pause before any of them say another word.]
Wilson: I love you.
House: What?
Wilson: That’s what I’ll tell her. I love you.
House: Not bad.
Wilson: I swear House, if you didn’t bring me into this damn place, I wouldn’t need to be hooked up to all this chemo! I swear to–
[Wilson starts to cough vigorously, nearly suffocating on his own words.]
House: Hey, hey! Take it easy.
Wilson: So… cough cough are you just gonna keep ignoring me until I’m dead?
[House pauses for a moment, thinking of what to say next.]
House: I brought you here, because… I lied. I care about you Wilson, I–
Wilson: DON’T– do that, House. You think if you can control everything around you, that your whole world can magically heal itself! Yet, the more you do any of it, you kill off everyone else around you… Even yourself, apparently.
[Another pause begins before Wilson continues onwards.]
Wilson: Not everything is about you, House. So, for once in your damn life, stop trying to be a healer, and try to be a–
House: I love you.
Wilson: What?
House: And your life did matter.
Wilson: Huh… [Wilson pauses for a moment, thinking to himself as he stares at the ceiling. He then looks back at House.]
Wilson: I believe you.
House: [squinting his eyes, looking back at Wilson] No, you don’t.
[Both of them chuckle simultaneously, in a way only two truly close friends would be able to.]
House: I mean, really… How many doctors have you met that have taken part in a porno before their careers?
Wilson: Alright, now you’re really pushing it!
[Another pause continues to take place, followed by a silent chuckle from both of them, again.]
Wilson: Everybody lies, right?
House: Yeah.
Wilson: Guess it’s just a matter of what for.
[Another awkward pause takes place, this time, without any chuckling.]
Wilson: Hey, H-House?...
House: Yeah?
[Suddenly, Wilson starts wheezing intensively, almost like he’s getting his entire soul sucked out of his body. The heart monitor begins beeping intensely, as Wilson continues to gasp for a breath of air.]
House: NURSE! NURSE!
[3 Nurses arrive at the scene, attempting to fix the unknown problem.]
House: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?! THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN AN EASY DECLINE, INSTEAD HE SOUNDS LIKE HE’S BEING POISONED BY GAS!
Nurse 1: Sir, we are trying our best to figure this ou–
House: WELL, YOUR BEST ISN’T ENOUGH! MY BEST FRIEND IS HERE WHEEZING HIMSELF TO DEATH AND ALL YOU CAN DO IS NOTHING!
[Wilson continues to wheeze intensively, with each wheeze getting weaker and weaker.]
House: DO SOMETHING, OR I WILL!
Nurse 2: Sir, we need you to get out of this room right away!
[Nurse 2 and Nurse 3 push House outside of the hospital room, whilst also blocking him access to open the door with the chair he was sitting on previously.]
House: banging on the glass door HEY! LET ME BACK IN! I’M A DOCTOR! JUST LET ME–
[Suddenly, Wilson’s wheezing completely stops, as the heart monitor flatlines. Almost like the world had completely stopped, House looks at Wilson’s face, probably for the last time. He pauses on his face for another 5-10 seconds, until his eyes begin to turn red from the tears forming in his eyes.]
[Shot changes to a hallway, with the Doctor from before speed walking with two other hospital police officers following right behind her.]
Unknown Doctor: There he is! He’s right—
[However, House was already gone, which surprised both the Doctor and the hospital police officers.]
[Shot changes to House in his car right outside the unknown hospital he was just in, looking down at his pager. With a dull face and tears still in his eyes, he clicks on Wilson’s messages. The shot then changes back to House’s pager, with the last message being sent by House, talking about whether or not Wilson wanted to come to a Monster Truck event that was happening later in the same week. There was no response back from Wilson. Then, for the first time, House sheds an actual tear, which is only shown as it drops on his last message to Wilson on his pager. Cut to black.]
[Massive Attack’s Teardrop]
2024.05.16 03:57 Upset_Silver_7817 27M 2 years in, living together and feel like she’s bleeding me dry
Some background, like the title says 27M and have been in relationship with my girlfriend with suspected BPD for a little over 2 years. We moved in together fast about 4 months in, I know don’t come at me, but she seemed solid. Had a job and owns the house we live in. She’s slightly older than me, 28. She had a really rough childhood, trauma, moving all the time, a lot of poverty and abuse (she doesn’t say much what happened to her but talks about her siblings and it’s implied that things were so bad they are unspeakable and she’s very damaged from it). Her biological father is in prison but she didn’t have any contact with him growing up yet she is still very affected by this fact. She has received large sums of money from him prior to his prison sentence. She is, I feel, intentionally vague about the details of all of that (except for when she’s angry and venting where the details change to serve her victim narrative).
I’m exhausted by how different my relationship is from the healthy relationships of my friends. My friends who can go to a concert with their friends and without their girlfriends obsessively checking up on them, or guilting them for going in the first place. My friends who can have lunch with their girlfriends without an abrupt cessation of eating because she’s suddenly triggered and is going to go throw up her food (or covertly threaten to). My friends whose girlfriends can show up to a hangout without having 5 layers of video-game-girl makeup and a wig styled to “perfection”. I’m tired of playing dad, therapist, boyfriend, and bestie to an adult woman with such a weak core sense of who she is that she bends and warps her body and her mind into what she *thinks* I want when what I *actually want* is to be with someone who can simply exist in her own skin and see the world as it really is. See past her own insecurity to actually see me and not whatever projection her trauma is informing her worldview with at the moment.
She can’t be alone. She is insufferable if I do something for myself, without her. She believes she needs to supervise me and make her presence known so that other girls (threats) don’t come onto me. She “knows” that I think other women are cute or beautiful and that I’m “only with her because I know her”. As if this pathologically insecure personality of hers is her winning asset. She’s plenty pretty, and the sex is amazing as you all already know, but even that appeal is lessening due to her intense neediness. She takes my not being in the mood as rejection. She wants sex because she feels bad about herself and needs to feel wanted, regardless of what I want or need. It’s all a reflection of HER. HER needs. HER insecurities. I’m suffocating like there’s no room for me to exist in this relationship. She sucks up all the air in any given room.
She’s obsessed with “thinspo,” body modification, and plastic surgery. I have tattoos myself and do find them attractive on a woman, but I believe she is using tattoos and piercings as self-harm. I hate to say it but I’m starting to question the legitimacy of her eating disorder as she is the attention-seeking type. The attention seeking didn’t used to bother me and I used to be ok with caring for hesoothing her, but she’s just getting worse over time and needing more.
Her spending is out of control and she can’t keep a job. She got herself fired from her job this year because she couldn’t keep her head down enough to keep a paycheck. At a job she was lucky to have (not technically qualified for) and exaggerated to the point of lying on her resume to get into. She now has her own business, which despite my own job is “our” gig in an attempt to future-fake and keep me stuck with her. I can’t say much about the business without giving away too much indentifying information. But there is a lot of frustration here. I am expected to do so much for this business and while I support her, I don’t want this for myself and I do have my own work. She spends so much money she doesn’t have on “the business”. She asks me for money for “business things” which also happen to be expensive hobby gear or the newest iphone, making a case for needing it for social media promotion or whatever else excuse. She can’t tolerate due to her childhood poverty being “without” anything she wants. She has thousands in debt which she finds a way to blame on her parents too (she is estranged from them).
I believed the lies and exaggerations that she was better off than this and more capable than this. But she’s coming apart and I’m not enough to hold her – or us – together. If I stay, I’ll continue to be miserable. If I leave, I’ll be just another asshole who abandons her. And that’s how every story ever ends, she says. Everyone always abandons her. She doesn’t get that she’s the reason. She really believes in her victimhood. She lost a significant friendship last year and I was fully on her side, convinced she was wronged. Now that I’m feeling the weight of knowing her long-term, I honestly kind of get it.
There’s so much more I wanted to write but I’m exhausted. I’m angry. I’m thinking about my future, and I don’t think I want one with her. This has been fun (well it was...) and I care about her, I really do, but I don’t think I can keep doing this.
submitted by Upset_Silver_7817 to BPDlovedones [link] [comments]
I’m exhausted by how different my relationship is from the healthy relationships of my friends. My friends who can go to a concert with their friends and without their girlfriends obsessively checking up on them, or guilting them for going in the first place. My friends who can have lunch with their girlfriends without an abrupt cessation of eating because she’s suddenly triggered and is going to go throw up her food (or covertly threaten to). My friends whose girlfriends can show up to a hangout without having 5 layers of video-game-girl makeup and a wig styled to “perfection”. I’m tired of playing dad, therapist, boyfriend, and bestie to an adult woman with such a weak core sense of who she is that she bends and warps her body and her mind into what she *thinks* I want when what I *actually want* is to be with someone who can simply exist in her own skin and see the world as it really is. See past her own insecurity to actually see me and not whatever projection her trauma is informing her worldview with at the moment.
She can’t be alone. She is insufferable if I do something for myself, without her. She believes she needs to supervise me and make her presence known so that other girls (threats) don’t come onto me. She “knows” that I think other women are cute or beautiful and that I’m “only with her because I know her”. As if this pathologically insecure personality of hers is her winning asset. She’s plenty pretty, and the sex is amazing as you all already know, but even that appeal is lessening due to her intense neediness. She takes my not being in the mood as rejection. She wants sex because she feels bad about herself and needs to feel wanted, regardless of what I want or need. It’s all a reflection of HER. HER needs. HER insecurities. I’m suffocating like there’s no room for me to exist in this relationship. She sucks up all the air in any given room.
She’s obsessed with “thinspo,” body modification, and plastic surgery. I have tattoos myself and do find them attractive on a woman, but I believe she is using tattoos and piercings as self-harm. I hate to say it but I’m starting to question the legitimacy of her eating disorder as she is the attention-seeking type. The attention seeking didn’t used to bother me and I used to be ok with caring for hesoothing her, but she’s just getting worse over time and needing more.
Her spending is out of control and she can’t keep a job. She got herself fired from her job this year because she couldn’t keep her head down enough to keep a paycheck. At a job she was lucky to have (not technically qualified for) and exaggerated to the point of lying on her resume to get into. She now has her own business, which despite my own job is “our” gig in an attempt to future-fake and keep me stuck with her. I can’t say much about the business without giving away too much indentifying information. But there is a lot of frustration here. I am expected to do so much for this business and while I support her, I don’t want this for myself and I do have my own work. She spends so much money she doesn’t have on “the business”. She asks me for money for “business things” which also happen to be expensive hobby gear or the newest iphone, making a case for needing it for social media promotion or whatever else excuse. She can’t tolerate due to her childhood poverty being “without” anything she wants. She has thousands in debt which she finds a way to blame on her parents too (she is estranged from them).
I believed the lies and exaggerations that she was better off than this and more capable than this. But she’s coming apart and I’m not enough to hold her – or us – together. If I stay, I’ll continue to be miserable. If I leave, I’ll be just another asshole who abandons her. And that’s how every story ever ends, she says. Everyone always abandons her. She doesn’t get that she’s the reason. She really believes in her victimhood. She lost a significant friendship last year and I was fully on her side, convinced she was wronged. Now that I’m feeling the weight of knowing her long-term, I honestly kind of get it.
There’s so much more I wanted to write but I’m exhausted. I’m angry. I’m thinking about my future, and I don’t think I want one with her. This has been fun (well it was...) and I care about her, I really do, but I don’t think I can keep doing this.
2024.05.16 03:56 TrulyDivine25 My 27F boyfriend 24M hit me in my pregnant stomach. What should my next move be?
Together for 3 years.
We seem too have by this recurring argument by about him being jealous of my oldest son’s father. Today, I received a call from my son’s school about some trouble he got in with his classmate. I called his dad to inform him, which is something we always do in situations concerning our child. I always communicate matters with my son to his father and vice versa. We strictly discuss our son and nothing else whatsoever. There’s never any inappropriate interaction between my son’s dad and I. EVER. When the phone call was over, we continued the conversation through text. This must’ve rubbed my boyfriend the wrong way because his body language appeared tense all of a sudden. I asked him what was wrong and he responded that he didn’t like the fact that some of my passwords are my son’s name because he has the same name as his dad. I told him my passwords are just that, my CHILD’s name, not his dad’s. He seemingly got over it and we moved on.
Fast forward an hour later, he comes in the room and tells me he will text me later while he’s at band practice and that he wants me to respond back as fast as I responded to my son’s father earlier today. (He never texts me while he’s at band practice, he always calls after or I’ll just see him when he gets home) so I told him I’m not responding at all since he’s comparing himself to my oldest son’s dad again and only texting me just to see if I’ll respond in a certain time. This gets him even more upset and he begins raising his voice. I go to try and leave the room to avoid arguing and he blocks me from leaving and telling me I’m not leaving so I start yelling for him to move out of my way. My boyfriend is a huge guy (6’1 260 lbs) compared to my petite self (5’0 164 lbs). By this point, my 1 year old is crying and I’m trying to get to him. My boyfriend keeps pushing my hand every time I grab the doorknob and using his weight to keep the door from opening so I hit him in his shoulder (not hard at all, he probably barely felt it) and he hit me back wayyy harder and in my stomach! I’m currently 6 months pregnant. So I turned the other way and start to cry. Instead of apologizing, he starts to blame me saying it was a reflex because I hit him first and he didn’t mean to hit my stomach. He also said that he didn’t even hit me that hard which was false. He tries to grab me and I lash out in anger, hitting, yelling and kicking. When he finally let me leave the room, he follows me to the other room demanding we talk RIGHT NOW. I told him no and he proceeds to pull and yank me off of the bed to get me to go with him until I yelled at him to leave me alone. Our 1 year old is next to me while he’s doing this so he screams and cries for me to pick him up. I told my boyfriend he’s scaring the baby and he just keeps trying to take him from me so he can put him down and pull me out of the room. He eventually gave up and said I’m using our son as an excuse to avoid talking.
I’m just at a loss of words right now.
just to clarify, we weren’t in front of my son when I hit and kicked him, I hit and kicked him to get into the room where my son was crying
submitted by TrulyDivine25 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
We seem too have by this recurring argument by about him being jealous of my oldest son’s father. Today, I received a call from my son’s school about some trouble he got in with his classmate. I called his dad to inform him, which is something we always do in situations concerning our child. I always communicate matters with my son to his father and vice versa. We strictly discuss our son and nothing else whatsoever. There’s never any inappropriate interaction between my son’s dad and I. EVER. When the phone call was over, we continued the conversation through text. This must’ve rubbed my boyfriend the wrong way because his body language appeared tense all of a sudden. I asked him what was wrong and he responded that he didn’t like the fact that some of my passwords are my son’s name because he has the same name as his dad. I told him my passwords are just that, my CHILD’s name, not his dad’s. He seemingly got over it and we moved on.
Fast forward an hour later, he comes in the room and tells me he will text me later while he’s at band practice and that he wants me to respond back as fast as I responded to my son’s father earlier today. (He never texts me while he’s at band practice, he always calls after or I’ll just see him when he gets home) so I told him I’m not responding at all since he’s comparing himself to my oldest son’s dad again and only texting me just to see if I’ll respond in a certain time. This gets him even more upset and he begins raising his voice. I go to try and leave the room to avoid arguing and he blocks me from leaving and telling me I’m not leaving so I start yelling for him to move out of my way. My boyfriend is a huge guy (6’1 260 lbs) compared to my petite self (5’0 164 lbs). By this point, my 1 year old is crying and I’m trying to get to him. My boyfriend keeps pushing my hand every time I grab the doorknob and using his weight to keep the door from opening so I hit him in his shoulder (not hard at all, he probably barely felt it) and he hit me back wayyy harder and in my stomach! I’m currently 6 months pregnant. So I turned the other way and start to cry. Instead of apologizing, he starts to blame me saying it was a reflex because I hit him first and he didn’t mean to hit my stomach. He also said that he didn’t even hit me that hard which was false. He tries to grab me and I lash out in anger, hitting, yelling and kicking. When he finally let me leave the room, he follows me to the other room demanding we talk RIGHT NOW. I told him no and he proceeds to pull and yank me off of the bed to get me to go with him until I yelled at him to leave me alone. Our 1 year old is next to me while he’s doing this so he screams and cries for me to pick him up. I told my boyfriend he’s scaring the baby and he just keeps trying to take him from me so he can put him down and pull me out of the room. He eventually gave up and said I’m using our son as an excuse to avoid talking.
I’m just at a loss of words right now.
just to clarify, we weren’t in front of my son when I hit and kicked him, I hit and kicked him to get into the room where my son was crying
2024.05.16 03:54 Agitated-Spell-4130 Acne Breakout on Mouth
 | I usually don’t have acne, if I do, it does away within a week or two and it’s nothing like this. I noticed the corners of my mouth cracking and getting dry so I put moisturizer on it, the same one I’ve been using over a year (Not expired, bought a new bottle recently). Started noticing it getting worse and eventually these spots are breaking out over my face and now I have pink eye. I’m going to the doctor tomorrow but he’s misdiagnosed my mom multiple times and he’s also not a dermatologist so I want some advice as to what this might be. I’ve heard it could be perioral dermatitis but again my mouth looks more severe than the photos I’ve seen. My dad thinks it might be chicken pox but I don’t have dots all over my body, I get itchy but I don’t have red dots besides the acne on my face. I originally thought it was some cold sores and used some topical cream/patches but this is the result the next day. submitted by Agitated-Spell-4130 to DermatologyQuestions [link] [comments] |
2024.05.16 03:53 Family_Zoo15 What Could this be?
 | Hello, I am currently on my 1st day of vacation in Puerto Rico and have discovered these red spots all over my hands and arms. Upon my internet searches I have found it might be PMLE. It’s only appeared on exposed parts of my body so far. submitted by Family_Zoo15 to DermatologyQuestions [link] [comments] It’s not itchy, but when I look at my arms, it makes me anxious so I feel it more. I’ve never had any dermatology issues in the past, so I have no idea what this might be, but I really don’t want to spend the rest of this trip in the shade. Any ideas? The only thing I can think of is that I took a lot of Dramamine yesterday that could maybe have an impact? |
2024.05.16 03:42 420tower Denys Waynwood, Lord of Ironoaks, the Burnt
PC
Reddit Account: 420Tower
Discord Tag: Rangi
Name and House: Denys Waynwood
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Andal
Appearance: A tall and fit man, Denys stands proud at 5’10”, brown of hair and eyes, the Lord Waynwood displays his strengths. Away from prying eyes, Denys bears a burnt torso, a reminder of the clans who mained him.
Trait:Brave
Skill(s): Swords, Andal Knight (E),shields, footwork
Talent(s): Fishing, wood carving
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Lord of Ironoaks, Ser
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: N/A
BIO:
Denys Waynwood was born as the fourth son of Lord Jasper Waynwood and his wife, the Lady Gretchel Coldwater. The boy came forth with a strong pair of lungs, as evidenced by the wails that followed the boy at birth. The succession of House Waynwood was secured, and for that, Jasper was grateful. It would not be too many years however until Denys was followed by sisters, Alyssa and Myranda.
Denys grew up in the shadows of his older brothers, Elbert, Jonothor, and Lyn. All three were trained at their fathers side, to be lords, and spares properly. Yet Jasper Waynwood did not pay much heed to his youngest son, even as the boy grew tall and into a stubborn man. The kindest thing that Jasper Waynwood had done was send his son to squire in Gulltown.
It was in Gulltown that Denys bloomed into the man he wanted to be. He held no imaginations of being a Lord, nor did he want to join the Nights Watch or Faith. The Maesters less so. Instead, Denys wanted to be a warrior. It was in Gulltown that Denys threw himself into training with the sword, to be a warrior for his brothers, and with the shield, to be their stalwart defender when the day came.
It was upon the name day of Denys elder brother Jonothor that his life changed suddenly. At 19 years old, Denys would join his brothers and fathers on a hunt through the Vale, straying farther than normal from Ironoaks. This was a mistake. Confident in himself and his sons, Jasper Waynwood had brought a light contingent of guards, an ill number when the Clans had arrived.
Jasper fought, and Jasper died, a barbarian having taken the Lord Waynwood down. Ever the coward, Jonothor was slain trying to flee, next to fall was Lyn, who died with honor. Finally, it was Elbert. Denys did his duty and guarded his brother, even as his shield broke, and his sword was locked ik combat, Denys stood proud over Elbert.
All for naught. Denys did not see the barbrian coming, who had tackled him into a smouldering fire that had once been meant to cook the spoils of the hunt. The fires engulfed Denys, licking at his body, the screams piercing the air. He did not notice when Elbert perished, or when the remains of his guards got him back to Ironoaks. All he knew in the end was that the Seven seemed to have plans for him.
Family tree:
Jasper Waynwood- Father, Dead
Gretchel Waxley-Mother
Elbert Waynwood- Brother, dead
Jonothor Waynwood- Brother, Dead
Lyn Waynwood- Brother, dead
Alyssa Waynwood- Sister
Myranda Waynwood- Sister
Jonos Waynwood- Uncle
Hubert Waynwood- Cousin
Gwayne Waynwood- Cousin
AC
Name and House: Jonos Waynwood
Age: 37
Cultural Group: Andal
Appearance: Tall and strong, brown hair, brown eyes.
Trait: Hale
Skill(s): Blunt weapons (E), shield
Talent(s): Painting
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Ser
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters:` N/A
BIO:
Jonos Waynwood was the second son of Lord Eon Waynwood, and spare to Ironoaks once upon a time. He had served his brother Jasper well, riding alongside the man when Aegon declared to conqueor the Vale.
When Jasper had his sons, it was Jonos who inspired loyalty in the lads, loyalty to the Arryns above all else. As had been in the days of old. Now, with his brother and all but one nephew dead, Jonos serves Denys without hesitation.
NPC:
Yohn Stone- Master at Arms
Artys the Gallant: General
submitted by 420tower to ITRPCommunity [link] [comments]
Reddit Account: 420Tower
Discord Tag: Rangi
Name and House: Denys Waynwood
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Andal
Appearance: A tall and fit man, Denys stands proud at 5’10”, brown of hair and eyes, the Lord Waynwood displays his strengths. Away from prying eyes, Denys bears a burnt torso, a reminder of the clans who mained him.
Trait:Brave
Skill(s): Swords, Andal Knight (E),shields, footwork
Talent(s): Fishing, wood carving
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Lord of Ironoaks, Ser
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: N/A
BIO:
Denys Waynwood was born as the fourth son of Lord Jasper Waynwood and his wife, the Lady Gretchel Coldwater. The boy came forth with a strong pair of lungs, as evidenced by the wails that followed the boy at birth. The succession of House Waynwood was secured, and for that, Jasper was grateful. It would not be too many years however until Denys was followed by sisters, Alyssa and Myranda.
Denys grew up in the shadows of his older brothers, Elbert, Jonothor, and Lyn. All three were trained at their fathers side, to be lords, and spares properly. Yet Jasper Waynwood did not pay much heed to his youngest son, even as the boy grew tall and into a stubborn man. The kindest thing that Jasper Waynwood had done was send his son to squire in Gulltown.
It was in Gulltown that Denys bloomed into the man he wanted to be. He held no imaginations of being a Lord, nor did he want to join the Nights Watch or Faith. The Maesters less so. Instead, Denys wanted to be a warrior. It was in Gulltown that Denys threw himself into training with the sword, to be a warrior for his brothers, and with the shield, to be their stalwart defender when the day came.
It was upon the name day of Denys elder brother Jonothor that his life changed suddenly. At 19 years old, Denys would join his brothers and fathers on a hunt through the Vale, straying farther than normal from Ironoaks. This was a mistake. Confident in himself and his sons, Jasper Waynwood had brought a light contingent of guards, an ill number when the Clans had arrived.
Jasper fought, and Jasper died, a barbarian having taken the Lord Waynwood down. Ever the coward, Jonothor was slain trying to flee, next to fall was Lyn, who died with honor. Finally, it was Elbert. Denys did his duty and guarded his brother, even as his shield broke, and his sword was locked ik combat, Denys stood proud over Elbert.
All for naught. Denys did not see the barbrian coming, who had tackled him into a smouldering fire that had once been meant to cook the spoils of the hunt. The fires engulfed Denys, licking at his body, the screams piercing the air. He did not notice when Elbert perished, or when the remains of his guards got him back to Ironoaks. All he knew in the end was that the Seven seemed to have plans for him.
Family tree:
Jasper Waynwood- Father, Dead
Gretchel Waxley-Mother
Elbert Waynwood- Brother, dead
Jonothor Waynwood- Brother, Dead
Lyn Waynwood- Brother, dead
Alyssa Waynwood- Sister
Myranda Waynwood- Sister
Jonos Waynwood- Uncle
Hubert Waynwood- Cousin
Gwayne Waynwood- Cousin
AC
Name and House: Jonos Waynwood
Age: 37
Cultural Group: Andal
Appearance: Tall and strong, brown hair, brown eyes.
Trait: Hale
Skill(s): Blunt weapons (E), shield
Talent(s): Painting
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Ser
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters:` N/A
BIO:
Jonos Waynwood was the second son of Lord Eon Waynwood, and spare to Ironoaks once upon a time. He had served his brother Jasper well, riding alongside the man when Aegon declared to conqueor the Vale.
When Jasper had his sons, it was Jonos who inspired loyalty in the lads, loyalty to the Arryns above all else. As had been in the days of old. Now, with his brother and all but one nephew dead, Jonos serves Denys without hesitation.
NPC:
Yohn Stone- Master at Arms
Artys the Gallant: General
2024.05.16 03:41 NotTooSunny The Body in the Library (Part 2/2)
ooc: co-written with the lovely u/LyrePlayerTwo
READ PART 1 HERE
The Final Guess
Harper made eye contact with Amon, slack-jawed. Any trace of condescension in her brown eyes was replaced with panic. “You were wrong.”
Amon let her words hang in the air as he sank into the chair by the desk with more force than he had intended.
“They’re her parents. They would have more of a motive than the rest of the suspects,” he retorted quickly, repeating Harper’s earlier words with a bitter edge. “Is what I recall hearing.”
“There were no other options!” Harper turned back to the wall, and tapped her chalk against the board. The powdery stick threatened to snap in her grip as she read out the remaining suspect names. “The Hydra was in the middle of a fight, Cerberus was working, and Lamia could not lie about being innocent.” She looked back towards Amon. “We eliminated all of those together.”
Amon remained composed, attempting to keep his voice steady despite the tension caused by their blunder. “And yet, we both made a mistake,” he agreed, scrutinizing the board in front of him as if it held a secret answer they had missed. “We have no room to make another one. But it must be one of those three.”
Though Amon’s words were calm and measured, his furrowed brow and clenched jaw betrayed an inner turmoil of his mind working overtime.
“Emotions or not, I think we can be sure it was not Lamia.” Harper began to pace around the study, her restless movements a physical manifestation of her racing mind. “So we should take a look at Cerberus and the Hydra again.”
"I was guarding the entrance, my duty unbroken," Amon repeated Cerberus’ alibi, resting his chin in his hands as he leaned against the desk.
Harper nodded. “I really don’t think that Cerberus could have lied about staying on guard. Or that he would have. He would not risk the gods’ wrath.”
“True,” Amon agreed, his dark gaze following Harper as she paced around the study room. “The voice of duty is more eloquent than the voice of sin. At least, the father of Greek tragedy said so,” he added with a hint of smug satisfaction.
Harper stopped walking. Amon's words seemed to have pulled her out of her spiral. She looked over at Amon again, a hint of amusement in her brown eyes. She remarked, “You always quote other people when you're arguing. Do you ever speak for yourself?”
Amon opened his mouth, then closed it, his olive complexion growing pink as he glared at Harper.
"Understanding the thoughts of those who came before us is not a lack of capacity for original thought. It is a foundation upon which we can build our own ideas.” He stood up from his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Ideas that we need to get out of this job alive.”
“And I deeply respect the writings of Aeschylus,” Harper began diplomatically, “But I think the tragedians would have very unhelpful things to say about our predicament. I say we focus on writing our own story.”
She shrugged, offering Amon a slight smile before she turned away.
“Alright.” Amon grumbled as he sat back down in the chair, noting that Harper had named Aeschylus before he had a chance to cite his source. “Let us keep going with the problem at hand then.”
It was unfortunate how easily they had fallen into their patterns of needless bickering, but he almost missed it as the room fell back into a suffocating silence. Amon had no other leads, and, for once, nothing else to say.
It looked like Harper had nothing either. She stopped wandering around and sank into a chair close to the chalkboard, the active analytical expression on her face giving way to a chilling blankness.
Amon was not going to give up. He pursed his lips, attempting to recall the details of every obscure Greek text he had ever read.
Yet, despite the gravity of their current circumstances, his thoughts couldn’t help but return to Harper’s comment. What a ridiculous thing to say– of course he could think for himself, speak for himself. Admittedly, he had quoted Aeschylus to show off, but the words of the Ancient Greeks were not irrelevant in solving a mythological murder mystery. The key here was that, alone, Amon would never know enough. It would always be useful to have input from a second mind, whether it was from a long-dead playwright or another demigod sitting right in front of him.
A second mind.
Amon shut his eyes, massaging his temples as he tried to visualize the fleeting holograms. “Harper. Who spoke for the Hydra? Was it all of the heads, or just one?”
“The middle head, I think?” Harper's voice grew louder as she stood and approached him, waiting for him to elaborate.
Amon’s eyes flew open, gleaming with a sudden excitement. “Well, if the heads can talk independently - “
“-then they can act independently!” Harper clapped a hand over her mouth in realization of her interruption. She smiled apologetically at Amon before continuing. “Sorry. But you're right. We focused on the wrong technicality. It wasn't what they said. It was who said it.”
“But your point about monster opposable thumbs still holds true,” Amon’s shoulders sagged slightly. “And we know that the sword must be correct.”
Harper shook her head sheepishly. “I don't think it matters. I knew it probably wouldn't after the first guess, really. I just didn't want to be wrong.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as the pair considered their final answer, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning. Harper scanned the chalkboard again, pursing her lips as she checked their work. Amon's jaw clenched tighter as his gaze remained fixed on Harper, lost in thought.
He broke the silence with a firm declaration, his voice steady and assured. "I feel confident about the Hydra and the sword. Do you?"
Harper nodded. “Yes. Do you want to be the one to tell her?”
Amon stood up from the chair once more, smoothing the wrinkles in his sweater. “I’ll leave the honors to you.”
“Okay,” Harper agreed, exhaling slowly. Her fingertips brushed against the base of her kopis as she called out to the monster, her voice even and clear. “For our final guess, we accuse the Hydra of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword.”
The sphinx rolled over and then stood. She took measured steps towards the demigods, eyeing the shortswords at their waists with a relaxed, almost sleepy expression.
Harper stiffened as the lioness drew closer. Even if Harper and Amon tried to fight her off now, it was not likely that they would win. This sphinx had the unbothered demeanor of a being who no longer feared death.
“You are correct,” the sphinx proclaimed, after a long silence. “And what an agonizing death it was,” Her melodramatic ranting was muted by the disappointment of her defeat. Still, she held her head high as she judged the demigods who had outsmarted her. “I must say that you have both exceeded expectations. If only barely.”
Harper and Amon exchanged looks. Harper took another cautious step towards the sphinx, saying, “You said you would leave if we got it right.”
“So I did.” the lioness agreed. “Humans spend their lives in pursuit of knowledge, you know. So often, they fail to apply it, only to repeat the same mistakes that they made before. You do not have the luxury of learning from your past lives, as I do. So I hope you have learned something that you will remember.”
She stalked towards the window, turning to offer the demigods one last prideful glance. “Goodbye, demigods.”
The Sphinx pushed the curtain aside and jumped through the open window.
As she left, the shimmering, translucent energy that had materialized the suspects returned once more. It swirled around the six weapons the pair had gathered, slowly dissolving them into sparkling motes of blue light. The door to the study room creaked back open.
“Well,” Amon slid his hands into the pocket of his trousers, “I am glad that our initial oversight did not lead to imminent death.” His tense and stony features had finally relaxed into a rare smile, exposing the metallic gleam of the brackets and wires on his teeth.
“All men make mistakes,” Harper intoned with exaggerated pretension. “But a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong. Or so the tragedians say.”
She walked over to the chalkboard and began to erase her script, barely restraining a laugh.
Amon nodded in approval as he crouched down to pick up some of the remaining debris. “A bit of a mainstream citation, yes. But contextually relevant and rich with insight.”
Soon, the study room was back to its ordinary state, and they were ready to leave. Amon held the door open as they exited the room. “Now, returning to the topic of thinking for oneself…”
References: Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan, Clue, Wordle, Aeschylus, and Antigone by Sophocles
submitted by NotTooSunny to CampHalfBloodRP [link] [comments]
READ PART 1 HERE
| Suspects | Weapons |
|---|---|
| Cerberus??? | |
| Lamia??? | |
| The Hydra?? | Celestial Bronze Sword |
Amon let her words hang in the air as he sank into the chair by the desk with more force than he had intended.
“They’re her parents. They would have more of a motive than the rest of the suspects,” he retorted quickly, repeating Harper’s earlier words with a bitter edge. “Is what I recall hearing.”
“There were no other options!” Harper turned back to the wall, and tapped her chalk against the board. The powdery stick threatened to snap in her grip as she read out the remaining suspect names. “The Hydra was in the middle of a fight, Cerberus was working, and Lamia could not lie about being innocent.” She looked back towards Amon. “We eliminated all of those together.”
Amon remained composed, attempting to keep his voice steady despite the tension caused by their blunder. “And yet, we both made a mistake,” he agreed, scrutinizing the board in front of him as if it held a secret answer they had missed. “We have no room to make another one. But it must be one of those three.”
Though Amon’s words were calm and measured, his furrowed brow and clenched jaw betrayed an inner turmoil of his mind working overtime.
“Emotions or not, I think we can be sure it was not Lamia.” Harper began to pace around the study, her restless movements a physical manifestation of her racing mind. “So we should take a look at Cerberus and the Hydra again.”
"I was guarding the entrance, my duty unbroken," Amon repeated Cerberus’ alibi, resting his chin in his hands as he leaned against the desk.
Harper nodded. “I really don’t think that Cerberus could have lied about staying on guard. Or that he would have. He would not risk the gods’ wrath.”
“True,” Amon agreed, his dark gaze following Harper as she paced around the study room. “The voice of duty is more eloquent than the voice of sin. At least, the father of Greek tragedy said so,” he added with a hint of smug satisfaction.
Harper stopped walking. Amon's words seemed to have pulled her out of her spiral. She looked over at Amon again, a hint of amusement in her brown eyes. She remarked, “You always quote other people when you're arguing. Do you ever speak for yourself?”
Amon opened his mouth, then closed it, his olive complexion growing pink as he glared at Harper.
"Understanding the thoughts of those who came before us is not a lack of capacity for original thought. It is a foundation upon which we can build our own ideas.” He stood up from his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Ideas that we need to get out of this job alive.”
“And I deeply respect the writings of Aeschylus,” Harper began diplomatically, “But I think the tragedians would have very unhelpful things to say about our predicament. I say we focus on writing our own story.”
She shrugged, offering Amon a slight smile before she turned away.
“Alright.” Amon grumbled as he sat back down in the chair, noting that Harper had named Aeschylus before he had a chance to cite his source. “Let us keep going with the problem at hand then.”
It was unfortunate how easily they had fallen into their patterns of needless bickering, but he almost missed it as the room fell back into a suffocating silence. Amon had no other leads, and, for once, nothing else to say.
It looked like Harper had nothing either. She stopped wandering around and sank into a chair close to the chalkboard, the active analytical expression on her face giving way to a chilling blankness.
Amon was not going to give up. He pursed his lips, attempting to recall the details of every obscure Greek text he had ever read.
Yet, despite the gravity of their current circumstances, his thoughts couldn’t help but return to Harper’s comment. What a ridiculous thing to say– of course he could think for himself, speak for himself. Admittedly, he had quoted Aeschylus to show off, but the words of the Ancient Greeks were not irrelevant in solving a mythological murder mystery. The key here was that, alone, Amon would never know enough. It would always be useful to have input from a second mind, whether it was from a long-dead playwright or another demigod sitting right in front of him.
A second mind.
Amon shut his eyes, massaging his temples as he tried to visualize the fleeting holograms. “Harper. Who spoke for the Hydra? Was it all of the heads, or just one?”
“The middle head, I think?” Harper's voice grew louder as she stood and approached him, waiting for him to elaborate.
Amon’s eyes flew open, gleaming with a sudden excitement. “Well, if the heads can talk independently - “
“-then they can act independently!” Harper clapped a hand over her mouth in realization of her interruption. She smiled apologetically at Amon before continuing. “Sorry. But you're right. We focused on the wrong technicality. It wasn't what they said. It was who said it.”
“But your point about monster opposable thumbs still holds true,” Amon’s shoulders sagged slightly. “And we know that the sword must be correct.”
Harper shook her head sheepishly. “I don't think it matters. I knew it probably wouldn't after the first guess, really. I just didn't want to be wrong.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as the pair considered their final answer, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning. Harper scanned the chalkboard again, pursing her lips as she checked their work. Amon's jaw clenched tighter as his gaze remained fixed on Harper, lost in thought.
He broke the silence with a firm declaration, his voice steady and assured. "I feel confident about the Hydra and the sword. Do you?"
Harper nodded. “Yes. Do you want to be the one to tell her?”
Amon stood up from the chair once more, smoothing the wrinkles in his sweater. “I’ll leave the honors to you.”
“Okay,” Harper agreed, exhaling slowly. Her fingertips brushed against the base of her kopis as she called out to the monster, her voice even and clear. “For our final guess, we accuse the Hydra of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword.”
The sphinx rolled over and then stood. She took measured steps towards the demigods, eyeing the shortswords at their waists with a relaxed, almost sleepy expression.
Harper stiffened as the lioness drew closer. Even if Harper and Amon tried to fight her off now, it was not likely that they would win. This sphinx had the unbothered demeanor of a being who no longer feared death.
“You are correct,” the sphinx proclaimed, after a long silence. “And what an agonizing death it was,” Her melodramatic ranting was muted by the disappointment of her defeat. Still, she held her head high as she judged the demigods who had outsmarted her. “I must say that you have both exceeded expectations. If only barely.”
Harper and Amon exchanged looks. Harper took another cautious step towards the sphinx, saying, “You said you would leave if we got it right.”
“So I did.” the lioness agreed. “Humans spend their lives in pursuit of knowledge, you know. So often, they fail to apply it, only to repeat the same mistakes that they made before. You do not have the luxury of learning from your past lives, as I do. So I hope you have learned something that you will remember.”
She stalked towards the window, turning to offer the demigods one last prideful glance. “Goodbye, demigods.”
The Sphinx pushed the curtain aside and jumped through the open window.
As she left, the shimmering, translucent energy that had materialized the suspects returned once more. It swirled around the six weapons the pair had gathered, slowly dissolving them into sparkling motes of blue light. The door to the study room creaked back open.
“Well,” Amon slid his hands into the pocket of his trousers, “I am glad that our initial oversight did not lead to imminent death.” His tense and stony features had finally relaxed into a rare smile, exposing the metallic gleam of the brackets and wires on his teeth.
“All men make mistakes,” Harper intoned with exaggerated pretension. “But a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong. Or so the tragedians say.”
She walked over to the chalkboard and began to erase her script, barely restraining a laugh.
Amon nodded in approval as he crouched down to pick up some of the remaining debris. “A bit of a mainstream citation, yes. But contextually relevant and rich with insight.”
Soon, the study room was back to its ordinary state, and they were ready to leave. Amon held the door open as they exited the room. “Now, returning to the topic of thinking for oneself…”
2024.05.16 03:40 ThrowRA_YesYe I got rid of my social anxiety, became friends with horrible people and now it’s back
I’m so upset with myself, all the work I put in went down the drain because I didn’t vet my friends properly.
I had severe social anxiety as a teen, then in 2019, I got on medication and suddenly had an urge to do things that I was scared of, from least to most and work my way up. Going to concerts alone, house parties where I didn’t know a single person, dance classes, you name it. By 2021, I was no longer on medication and extremely confident. Even when I was doing embarrassing stuff, I had an “oh well whatever” mentality. Everyone would talk about how much I changed for the better.
2022 was my favourite year, so social, everyone enjoyed my presence because I was being myself and I noticed it eased other people’s social anxiety too because I wasn’t judgemental at all.
Cut to 2023, I become friends with these girls and I find myself losing my identity, becoming more insecure, just boring. People no longer gravitate towards me, I can’t figure out what’s happening.
I got into a disagreement with one of the girls and take time away from the group, during that time I feel like myself again. I hang out with them, and everything hits me all at once.
I realised these girls were deeply insecure and projecting their insecurities onto me. They were insecure about their bodies, it made them uncomfortable that I was content with mine despite not fitting the beauty standard. There were so many things that were wrong with me in their eyes and should be insecure of. They clearly felt like they needed to let me know that.
Some things were: my weight, the fact that I’m not white (they are not white either, but they seem to have internalised racism), the way I speak (for example slang, which they thought was “ghetto”), honestly everything.
They’d also take horrible pictures of me then make me feel like I’m being sensitive for telling them it’s a bad pic. I’ve showed the pics to friends and family and they agree it’s a bad pic. (Eyes closed, mouth open, not ready)
I’m an idiot for allowing them to get to me, but it did. Badly. I’d cut them off now, but we have a friend’s wedding in August and I’m waiting til that’s over.
I’ve distanced myself and only see them when I have to (e.g the wedding), and have made great new friends, but the damage has been done. I need to start from square one with my healing journey.
Looking back, it did feel like jealousy, not jealous of me/my life, but how I was unapologetically myself. But misery loves company I guess.
Any tips to heal would be helpful.
submitted by ThrowRA_YesYe to socialanxiety [link] [comments]
I had severe social anxiety as a teen, then in 2019, I got on medication and suddenly had an urge to do things that I was scared of, from least to most and work my way up. Going to concerts alone, house parties where I didn’t know a single person, dance classes, you name it. By 2021, I was no longer on medication and extremely confident. Even when I was doing embarrassing stuff, I had an “oh well whatever” mentality. Everyone would talk about how much I changed for the better.
2022 was my favourite year, so social, everyone enjoyed my presence because I was being myself and I noticed it eased other people’s social anxiety too because I wasn’t judgemental at all.
Cut to 2023, I become friends with these girls and I find myself losing my identity, becoming more insecure, just boring. People no longer gravitate towards me, I can’t figure out what’s happening.
I got into a disagreement with one of the girls and take time away from the group, during that time I feel like myself again. I hang out with them, and everything hits me all at once.
I realised these girls were deeply insecure and projecting their insecurities onto me. They were insecure about their bodies, it made them uncomfortable that I was content with mine despite not fitting the beauty standard. There were so many things that were wrong with me in their eyes and should be insecure of. They clearly felt like they needed to let me know that.
Some things were: my weight, the fact that I’m not white (they are not white either, but they seem to have internalised racism), the way I speak (for example slang, which they thought was “ghetto”), honestly everything.
They’d also take horrible pictures of me then make me feel like I’m being sensitive for telling them it’s a bad pic. I’ve showed the pics to friends and family and they agree it’s a bad pic. (Eyes closed, mouth open, not ready)
I’m an idiot for allowing them to get to me, but it did. Badly. I’d cut them off now, but we have a friend’s wedding in August and I’m waiting til that’s over.
I’ve distanced myself and only see them when I have to (e.g the wedding), and have made great new friends, but the damage has been done. I need to start from square one with my healing journey.
Looking back, it did feel like jealousy, not jealous of me/my life, but how I was unapologetically myself. But misery loves company I guess.
Any tips to heal would be helpful.
2024.05.16 03:24 ObnoxiouslyConfusedd Questions wether or not my parents are really ‘that bad’..
So hello everyone. I chose to join this community because I really need people to reach out with 😭
sorry if thus makes no sense logically in the way I write, I’m kinda burnt out and just had to write a really stressful essay so my brain is completelyfried ☠️
tw: physical and mental abuse, SH, possible SA
since I was about 6-7, I moved into a new home. My mom sort of restarted herself, joining social medias and such, reaching out to friends. My dad just… is my dad. The stereotypical homophobic guy you read about. iykyk. since then, my mom has basically believed everything she sees. At around 7 1/2, she established a 30 minute screen time rule. If I broke it, i’d be grounded for 2 weeks. Sometimes I’d sneak into their room and use it, but was often caught. i grew up in a family where talking about things I liked would criminalize me. So I didn’t. I learned To not talk, to not feel in front of them. To be a perfect little kid. I grew Up hiding pretty much everything I didn’t want them to see. the pretty basic ‘you can talk to me’, etc was constantly on me- lovebombing, then yelling, etc etc.
so far I have a couple undiagnosed mental issues my parents both refuse To akoknowlege- autism, adhd. I can TELL on everything I have some form of OCD. The only medical condition that is confirmed it Motor Tick. It’s annoying as hell. I’ll get into that later.
according to my mom, and my dad but specifically my mom, I am ‘too young’ to know if I should be evaluated for any of the things I’ve preciously listed. I suffer day to day with overstimulation and panic attacks. She refuses to even take notice. I recently got into NJHS and she made it very clear I had to join. It wasn’t even a choice anymore. I ended up very stressed, as always.
according to my mom, which, to her, I am nothing but a Cishet girl, I need to be ladylike. Formal, even for school, dresses and skirts only. Only because of my amazing friends and boyfriend have I managed to wear anything but. I’m very dysphoric and have pretty severe body issues. Because of this I often self harm, which is dangerous because I do competitive swim and soccer, so there is very little places to hide scars.
a lot of my life I’ve been manipulated, forced into beliefs I don’t believe in- my entire family is Christian and look down upon anyone who isn’t. I’m the entire opposite. This causes arguments, especially when my mom checks my phone.
on my phone my mom downloaded a parental service called bark. Parents on here, if any.
please, please, please please please please lPlease PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU NEVER GET THIS FOR YOUR CHILD. If you really want a tracker, use a different one, like life360 or something, only under 15-16 or so, PLEASE. Don’t. It’s ripped ALL of my privacy, all of my life. I cant talk to my only online friends- my strongest connections. My best friends. People I love like siblings. people who were more of a father to me than my own.
winding Back to Motor Tick. For me, it used to be a repetitive clearing of my throat, but now it’s a small twitch in my upper stomach. It makes me twitch like I’m jumping at something that surprises me, but only I little. It’s only noticeable in some cases. But my mom and dad? They always notice. I do it while eatign without thinking, and suddenly I’m getting yelled at for disrespecting them. all the time. riding my bike? My bike gets taken if I twitch, wether it be from Motor Tick or not. Everything gets taken. I’ve had my HOMEWORK confiscated and then yelled at by my teachers because they don’t believe me.
speaking of punishments. Some often include: pushing down stairs, not being allowed to sleep, no food until after bedtime (strictly not allowed to leave room after, not even for water.) I have to stock food in my room which is also very not allowed.
my doors aren’t allowed to be locked, not even when changing. (this is the SA part Following this) My dad sits outside the door when I shower , sometimes watching the curtain, sometimes watching ME. He sometimes, to rub it in, will make comments on my body. My weight fluctuates due to my instability in many factors, so I’m constantly dissed for my weight, wether it be under or over HIS beauty standard. His. My DAD.
honestly why I’m saying all this is because I’ve been gaslighted enough to still want my parents around, even though I want so bad to get out of here and cut them off. And I don’t know if this is abuse or not. Help, also thanks for reading!
submitted by ObnoxiouslyConfusedd to abusiveparents [link] [comments]
sorry if thus makes no sense logically in the way I write, I’m kinda burnt out and just had to write a really stressful essay so my brain is completelyfried ☠️
tw: physical and mental abuse, SH, possible SA
since I was about 6-7, I moved into a new home. My mom sort of restarted herself, joining social medias and such, reaching out to friends. My dad just… is my dad. The stereotypical homophobic guy you read about. iykyk. since then, my mom has basically believed everything she sees. At around 7 1/2, she established a 30 minute screen time rule. If I broke it, i’d be grounded for 2 weeks. Sometimes I’d sneak into their room and use it, but was often caught. i grew up in a family where talking about things I liked would criminalize me. So I didn’t. I learned To not talk, to not feel in front of them. To be a perfect little kid. I grew Up hiding pretty much everything I didn’t want them to see. the pretty basic ‘you can talk to me’, etc was constantly on me- lovebombing, then yelling, etc etc.
so far I have a couple undiagnosed mental issues my parents both refuse To akoknowlege- autism, adhd. I can TELL on everything I have some form of OCD. The only medical condition that is confirmed it Motor Tick. It’s annoying as hell. I’ll get into that later.
according to my mom, and my dad but specifically my mom, I am ‘too young’ to know if I should be evaluated for any of the things I’ve preciously listed. I suffer day to day with overstimulation and panic attacks. She refuses to even take notice. I recently got into NJHS and she made it very clear I had to join. It wasn’t even a choice anymore. I ended up very stressed, as always.
according to my mom, which, to her, I am nothing but a Cishet girl, I need to be ladylike. Formal, even for school, dresses and skirts only. Only because of my amazing friends and boyfriend have I managed to wear anything but. I’m very dysphoric and have pretty severe body issues. Because of this I often self harm, which is dangerous because I do competitive swim and soccer, so there is very little places to hide scars.
a lot of my life I’ve been manipulated, forced into beliefs I don’t believe in- my entire family is Christian and look down upon anyone who isn’t. I’m the entire opposite. This causes arguments, especially when my mom checks my phone.
on my phone my mom downloaded a parental service called bark. Parents on here, if any.
please, please, please please please please lPlease PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU NEVER GET THIS FOR YOUR CHILD. If you really want a tracker, use a different one, like life360 or something, only under 15-16 or so, PLEASE. Don’t. It’s ripped ALL of my privacy, all of my life. I cant talk to my only online friends- my strongest connections. My best friends. People I love like siblings. people who were more of a father to me than my own.
winding Back to Motor Tick. For me, it used to be a repetitive clearing of my throat, but now it’s a small twitch in my upper stomach. It makes me twitch like I’m jumping at something that surprises me, but only I little. It’s only noticeable in some cases. But my mom and dad? They always notice. I do it while eatign without thinking, and suddenly I’m getting yelled at for disrespecting them. all the time. riding my bike? My bike gets taken if I twitch, wether it be from Motor Tick or not. Everything gets taken. I’ve had my HOMEWORK confiscated and then yelled at by my teachers because they don’t believe me.
speaking of punishments. Some often include: pushing down stairs, not being allowed to sleep, no food until after bedtime (strictly not allowed to leave room after, not even for water.) I have to stock food in my room which is also very not allowed.
my doors aren’t allowed to be locked, not even when changing. (this is the SA part Following this) My dad sits outside the door when I shower , sometimes watching the curtain, sometimes watching ME. He sometimes, to rub it in, will make comments on my body. My weight fluctuates due to my instability in many factors, so I’m constantly dissed for my weight, wether it be under or over HIS beauty standard. His. My DAD.
honestly why I’m saying all this is because I’ve been gaslighted enough to still want my parents around, even though I want so bad to get out of here and cut them off. And I don’t know if this is abuse or not. Help, also thanks for reading!
2024.05.16 03:11 Pearl01234 New to scuba diving, is it normal?
Hi everyone, I recently completed my PADI Open Water course and I'd like to share my experience with you. I believe my instructor's behavior was inappropriate, but as a newcomer to scuba diving, I'd appreciate your thoughts on the matter.
Before the course: I found a Dive Shop on Tripadvisor with over 200 5-star reviews, which seemed perfect for the Open Water Course. However, the website link wasn't functional, so I reached out to the company on Instagram. They requested to follow me, which I found a bit strange, but I went along with it. The owner (only instructor) and I communicated via WhatsApp to plan the days since I was traveling for the course. He messaged me frequently, which was a bit overwhelming, but I assumed it was to keep in touch since I hadn't made a deposit. He even started liking my Instagram Stories.
I confirmed with him twice that he would provide all the necessary equipment, including a wetsuit. The night before the course, he asked me out for a drink, which I politely declined. Despite feeling uncomfortable, I decided to proceed with the course, considering diving as a community activity.
Day 1: Upon arrival, I was informed that there was no wetsuit available for me that day, as he wanted to give me a "free" introduction in shallow waters level to gauge my comfort while him sharing his octopus (No Pool). Feeling uneasy in just a swimsuit, I reluctantly went along with it. At a depth of 6m, he positioned himself above me - imagine two planks, one on top of the other. I didn't have a wetsuit, and I could feel his parts rubbing against my buttocks, and believe he started to get hard. I honestly had no idea of what he was doing, if he was touching himself, or if it was normal, if i was overthinking. Anyways I started to panic, I was scared because it was my first time in deep water. I was alone with him, and he was controlling my air. I was breathing with his octopus and felt vulnerable. I just started to focus on my breathing. He started to massage my upper body. At this point I just froze. We finished and did some tricks.
Day 2: The next day, he again claimed to have forgotten the wetsuit, stating it wasn't good for my buoyancy. We started with the tricks and then, he claimed that we needed to control my buoyancy. He then proceeded to remove my gear and repeat the exercise from the previous day, with me sharing his air from his octopus while he remained on top of me. I honestly kinda froze and started to focus on my breathing once again. I began to panic once more, unsure if this was standard practice. His behavior escalated when we approached the shore, he started taking inappropriate photos of other women but in the water, further adding to my discomfort. At the end, he stated that someone would come along tomorrow to finish my 2 other dives. At this point I wanted to end the class, but told myself that there was only 1 day remaining and the fact that someone would be there I would feel more comfortable. I didn't knew if it was common practice for new divers (him being on top of me and me sharing his octopus)
Day 3:
He asked me a couple of questions in the car (about 5) and then informed me that was my written exam and there was no need to complete a formal exam; that I had passed. He then mentioned he didn't have a wetsuit for me, only a rash guard.
Then, another diver arrived for his refresher. He was quite old, and the instructor became rude to him. Honestly, I felt calmer knowing there would be someone else with us. We completed the 18m dive, and everything went fine. When we reached shore, the older diver asked if he could join us for the next planned dive (my 4th dive due in 30 minutes), but the instructor declined, stating that this dive would be a test for my class.
Once offshore, the older diver and I started talking, and I could sense the instructor's discomfort about our conversation. He seemed eager for the older diver to leave and began speaking negatively about him behind his back.
Then I began my fourth dive (my instructor said he would bring my BCD but arrived only with his). He repeated the exercise of being on top of me and me using his octopus, which confirmed to me that it was inappropriate. It was only my fourth dive, so I questioned why he didn't do the same exercise with the older man. I believe he wanted him to leave so he could act inappropriately towards me again. This is when i realized is was NOT ok. I felt scared but relieved it was my last dive I was afraid to decline that he would fail me or worst, remove my regulator) At the end, we surfaced, he grabbed my gear, we went back down, and I focused on the skills and enjoying my last dive (without him on top of me), while he was just taking photos.
It took me a few days to process everything. After doing some research, I came to the conclusion that his behavior was highly inappropriate. Not only was I knew nothing in diving, but he was also controlling my regulator (using his octopus), we were at depth, and he was positioned on top of me. I felt completely vulnerable and taken advantage of. Despite this, he certified me as a level 2 diver, but I honestly don't feel confident enough. What are your thoughts on this situation? Is it normal practice? What should I do? Have you ever reported a PADI ? TBH I feel kinda traumatized, I just wanted to learn to dive and I am left with this unpleasant memory.
submitted by Pearl01234 to scubadiving [link] [comments]
Before the course: I found a Dive Shop on Tripadvisor with over 200 5-star reviews, which seemed perfect for the Open Water Course. However, the website link wasn't functional, so I reached out to the company on Instagram. They requested to follow me, which I found a bit strange, but I went along with it. The owner (only instructor) and I communicated via WhatsApp to plan the days since I was traveling for the course. He messaged me frequently, which was a bit overwhelming, but I assumed it was to keep in touch since I hadn't made a deposit. He even started liking my Instagram Stories.
I confirmed with him twice that he would provide all the necessary equipment, including a wetsuit. The night before the course, he asked me out for a drink, which I politely declined. Despite feeling uncomfortable, I decided to proceed with the course, considering diving as a community activity.
Day 1: Upon arrival, I was informed that there was no wetsuit available for me that day, as he wanted to give me a "free" introduction in shallow waters level to gauge my comfort while him sharing his octopus (No Pool). Feeling uneasy in just a swimsuit, I reluctantly went along with it. At a depth of 6m, he positioned himself above me - imagine two planks, one on top of the other. I didn't have a wetsuit, and I could feel his parts rubbing against my buttocks, and believe he started to get hard. I honestly had no idea of what he was doing, if he was touching himself, or if it was normal, if i was overthinking. Anyways I started to panic, I was scared because it was my first time in deep water. I was alone with him, and he was controlling my air. I was breathing with his octopus and felt vulnerable. I just started to focus on my breathing. He started to massage my upper body. At this point I just froze. We finished and did some tricks.
Day 2: The next day, he again claimed to have forgotten the wetsuit, stating it wasn't good for my buoyancy. We started with the tricks and then, he claimed that we needed to control my buoyancy. He then proceeded to remove my gear and repeat the exercise from the previous day, with me sharing his air from his octopus while he remained on top of me. I honestly kinda froze and started to focus on my breathing once again. I began to panic once more, unsure if this was standard practice. His behavior escalated when we approached the shore, he started taking inappropriate photos of other women but in the water, further adding to my discomfort. At the end, he stated that someone would come along tomorrow to finish my 2 other dives. At this point I wanted to end the class, but told myself that there was only 1 day remaining and the fact that someone would be there I would feel more comfortable. I didn't knew if it was common practice for new divers (him being on top of me and me sharing his octopus)
Day 3:
He asked me a couple of questions in the car (about 5) and then informed me that was my written exam and there was no need to complete a formal exam; that I had passed. He then mentioned he didn't have a wetsuit for me, only a rash guard.
Then, another diver arrived for his refresher. He was quite old, and the instructor became rude to him. Honestly, I felt calmer knowing there would be someone else with us. We completed the 18m dive, and everything went fine. When we reached shore, the older diver asked if he could join us for the next planned dive (my 4th dive due in 30 minutes), but the instructor declined, stating that this dive would be a test for my class.
Once offshore, the older diver and I started talking, and I could sense the instructor's discomfort about our conversation. He seemed eager for the older diver to leave and began speaking negatively about him behind his back.
Then I began my fourth dive (my instructor said he would bring my BCD but arrived only with his). He repeated the exercise of being on top of me and me using his octopus, which confirmed to me that it was inappropriate. It was only my fourth dive, so I questioned why he didn't do the same exercise with the older man. I believe he wanted him to leave so he could act inappropriately towards me again. This is when i realized is was NOT ok. I felt scared but relieved it was my last dive I was afraid to decline that he would fail me or worst, remove my regulator) At the end, we surfaced, he grabbed my gear, we went back down, and I focused on the skills and enjoying my last dive (without him on top of me), while he was just taking photos.
It took me a few days to process everything. After doing some research, I came to the conclusion that his behavior was highly inappropriate. Not only was I knew nothing in diving, but he was also controlling my regulator (using his octopus), we were at depth, and he was positioned on top of me. I felt completely vulnerable and taken advantage of. Despite this, he certified me as a level 2 diver, but I honestly don't feel confident enough. What are your thoughts on this situation? Is it normal practice? What should I do? Have you ever reported a PADI ? TBH I feel kinda traumatized, I just wanted to learn to dive and I am left with this unpleasant memory.
2024.05.16 03:04 flowergirl9867 Bad sunburn - I'm scared
Thirteen days ago I went to the beach from 12:30pm-3:30pm. I put SPF 70 all over my body, but I went swimming and didn't reapply during that time. My entire back and the back of my legs burned but I felt nothing while at the beach so had no idea. It wasn't until a couple hours after I got home that it started to hurt and my skin turned red. The next few days were absolutely unbearable. My skin turned a dark purply-red and the pain penetrated deep into the layers of my skin. I had not been sunburned in 20 years before this and have never been burned this badly. 50% of my body was covered in burns.
On the 9th day I got two blisters and the skin started peeling. The pain has subsided but it is still painful 13 days later and it is still peeling and itchy.
What I'm most worried about is the discoloration. I am super super pale. The skin is still extremely dark and it's not a normal tan. I'm afraid that I will be discolored forever or that it has caused scarring. How much longer will it take for my skin to go back to normal color?
submitted by flowergirl9867 to skin [link] [comments]
On the 9th day I got two blisters and the skin started peeling. The pain has subsided but it is still painful 13 days later and it is still peeling and itchy.
What I'm most worried about is the discoloration. I am super super pale. The skin is still extremely dark and it's not a normal tan. I'm afraid that I will be discolored forever or that it has caused scarring. How much longer will it take for my skin to go back to normal color?
2024.05.16 02:48 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:46 MarvelousTangerine What insect is this and should I worry?
 | 2 weeks ago I put on a new pair of pants and felt itchy. Suddenly my leg was bit all over but I couldn't find the bug. I put the pair of pants in a plastic bag, closed it tight and hoped that was that. Haven't opened the bag since. Suddenly today I felt something biting me and managed to grab it (video) and kill it. What is this and should I worry? submitted by MarvelousTangerine to lisboa [link] [comments] |
2024.05.16 02:45 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to scarystories [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:44 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to Odd_directions [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~