You arrive at the facility, everything is white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the clothes, the people. You are escorted to a small room, akin to a jail cell. A toilet, a cot, a small sink. The lady who escorted you leaves you alone in the room and the door locks behind you. The day passes, they feed you. You awake the next morning to a thumping on the door and then it opens. An African American man enters, instructs you to roll up your sleeves and gives you a shot of the experimental drug in each arm and says that you can leave now. You look at him with a blank stare… “what?”
“I said, you’re free to leave now.”
“I guess I expected to have multiple rounds of this drug? Why keep me for a day?” You say.
“We just needed to observe you for 24 hours before giving you this medicine.”
You look around and notice tiny black holes in the ceiling… cameras.
You get up to leave as the man opens the door for you and as you’re exiting you stop in your tracks and turn around.
“I’m still getting paid for this right?”
“Absolutely.” Says the man
“What was it that you gave to me anyway?”
“Now,” he lights up “you’ll never die…. ever. I finally got it to work.”
how do you react to this news and what comes next?

Aidin didn't need another cautionary tale about the Phaal, but he could tell from the slight crinkle of Isa's forehead that he was about to hear one.
"There's something else you should know," she said.
So predictable. "If you're going to tell me how deadly-"
"It's not that," she interrupted, and it suddenly occurred to Aidin that he was probably just as predictable to her as she was to him. "It's something else. Something worse."
"What's worse than-"
"They can read minds. They can read your mind. Human minds. They might be reading your mind right now."
"I see," nodded Aidin, digesting the information. "Actually, I don't think I do see. Why is that worse?"
"Because the only way we're getting out of here is if you can beat them at Phaal's Poker."
Aidin and Isa were sat on the floor of a holding cell, but it was unlike any of the cells they'd found themselves in before. And they'd found themselves in plenty. For most artefact dealers, there was a fine line between running a successful operation and staying on the right side of The Expanse's arbiters. Usually you had to pick one.
Their cell was shaped like the number 8, with two, circular chambers separated by a gap just wide enough to squeeze a human arm through. They could've passed items to each other had they been allowed to keep anything worth passing. Instead, all they'd exchanged so far were words and glances. And thoughts.
Each half of the cell was empty save from a polymer bucket, and a singular light hung in the gap, half-heartedly illuminating both halves at the same time.
It was hard for either of them to know how long they'd been there. There were no windows, and besides, time moved strangely in these far-flung corners of The Expanse. Still, Aidin's stomach had given way to a deep, aching growl. They'd clearly been here for too long.
___
Phaal's Poker. Aidin had only heard the rumours. Invented by the Phaal, mastered by the Phaal. It was said that nobody could beat them at their own game, least of all humans, and now he understood why. How do you deceive something that knows what you're thinking?
"Can't you play?" asked Aidin.
Isa shook her head. "They can't read me. They'll insist on playing you."
Aidin's eyes dropped and settled on his moaning gut. He was used to hunger, but this felt different. Like his body had resorted to feeding on itself.
"Right. Excellent. And if I lose?"
Isa raised an eyebrow. "Don't lose."
Aidin sighed. This was not what he had envisioned when he took the job, but jobs like this rarely went as planned. That much he knew. "So what're the rules?"
"Ah, yes." Isa straightened, her eyes widening with an enthusiasm that felt at odds with their current predicament. "It's actually a rather elegant game."
"Well then, lucky me," said Aidin, his patience eroding with every gurgling hunger pang. Isa persevered.
"Two players face each other. Each player takes a coin - but it can be anything small and flat - and places it - secretly, mind - into one of their hands - or whatever they use to hold stuff." Isa's excitement continued to build. "You win by finding your opponent's coin and tricking them into missing yours."
"What if you both find each other's coins?"
"Then the game starts again. Same if both players get it wrong, but-" she caught herself. "But-"
"-Phaal don't get it wrong." offered Aidin.
Isa slumped back against the wall. "No, they don't. At least, not when they're playing humans."
"So if the Phaal never miss, it means I can't win," reasoned Aidin. "I can only delay the inevitable by forcing a rematch."
"Yes. That's the long and short of it," said Isa. "But perhaps..." she trailed off, and Aidin interrogated the slight narrowing of her eyes. He'd seen that squint before.
"You've got an idea, haven't you?" he said.
"What if," ventured Isa, "there is a way?" At this she stood up, her dormant bones clicking back into action. She paced back and forth across the diameter of her half of the cell, moving in and out of Aidin's view through the small gap that separated them. Her lips moved silently, her fingers traced patterns in the air.
"I'm listening," said Aidin, veiling his intense relief as best he could. She always had an idea. "Whenever you're ready."
After what felt to Aidin like an age, Isa stopped in the middle of her cell and moved close to the gap, locking eyes with him again. The light hovered above her head, and it reminded Aidin of the cartoons he used to watch back on Earth. This was an idea alright.
Isa pointed at him: "You have one advantage over the other humans who have played Phaal's Poker, don't you?" Aidin nodded, but he didn't know what she was talking about. Isa sensed it. "Aidin, you know they can read your mind. The others won't have known. We can use that."
"Okay. Yeah. I can see it. Fine." He stared at her blankly. "But how exactly? If I'm thinking about lying about which hand my coin is in, they're still going to know I'm lying."
"Sure", said Isa. She was confident now, like a detective about to reveal the culprit. "But what if you don't think about the game at all?"
___
Aidin's eyes burned into the silhouetted backs of the two human guards that escorted him down a dark, seemingly endless corridor. "You can talk to me y'know," he spat. No response. Fucking traitors.
The width of the corridor fluctuated. In parts it was wide - almost palatial - but then the wood-panelled walls would tighten inwards and suddenly it was so narrow that the guards had to walk in single-file. Then they'd open up again. Intermittent lights along the ceiling made their shadows shorten and stretch.
He hadn't seen wood for some time, let alone wood-panels. These Phaal were wealthy - trees didn't grow on planets in these parts. If not for his bounds he would've reached out and ran his fingers along them.
Without warning the guards stopped outside a door. One turned to face him, and Aidin opened his mouth, ready to tell him what he thought about humans that had crossed over. But all he could muster was a stifled gasp.
The guard's eyes had been gouged out, leaving two, pitted caverns in their place. Two smaller holes punctured a flat, scarred surface where his nose should've been, and his mouth was sewn shut with rusted, blood-stained wire. His ears were still in tact.
The guard reached for the door handle with a gloved hand, and Aidin scrambled to gather himself. This is what could happen to me, he thought. This is what could happen if I lose.
The door swung open. Aidin's hunger continued to eat away at his insides.
___
A small, wooden coin was placed in front of each player by one of the mutilated guards that had escorted Aidin to the room. Like his cell, the room was empty save for the metal table and chairs on which they sat and a light that glowed above them. But unlike his cell, this one was square. Disgusting place, he thought.
He glanced up at the Phaal sat across from him, remembering with a spike of panic that his thoughts weren't private anymore. But it was unclear to him whether it was listening: just like the two human guards stood either side of them, the Phaal were faceless.
He had never seen one in real life before, but Isa's description was pretty accurate. Humans are mostly carbon and oxygen, Phaal are mostly calcium and keratin. Imagine if you tried to piece together a human using only bones, teeth, nails and hair.
Its whole chest was covered by a wooden-beaded necklace, which, based on the differing shades of brown, looked like an assortment of various woods. More posturing.
With a sudden lurch, the Phaal raised a hand and placed it on top of its coin. The hand was human-like in shape, but paper-white and hard. Thick cables of hair coiled around each finger, digging grooves into their surface like a vine eroding the brick of a decaying building. It dragged the coin off the table with a screech that felt like it was peeling away at Aidin's eardrums.
Aidin - his bounds cut once the door to the room had been shut - took his own coin in response, passed it between his sweat-lined hands and recited Isa's words in his mind over and over, like a mantra. Grip one half of the coin with your left hand, and the other half of the coin with your right. Then focus on what you'll eat when we get out of here.
The Phaal angled its head slightly, and Aidin wondered whether it was listening now. After a moment, the blank oval of bone, hair and teeth rocked back and fourth very slowly. It was nodding. Then it placed two clenched fists on the table.
Grip one half of the coin with your left hand, and the other half of the coin with your right. Then focus on what you'll eat when we get out of here.
Aidin closed his eyes and thought about food. He knew that the food he'd be eating if he ever escaped this place would likely be the same food he and Isa had eaten since they'd met all those years ago. A grool of proteins, most of which could be harvested from even the most barren atmospheres of The Outer Expanse.
But his mind was a pantry, and he had stocked it with a myriad of memories. He remembered melted cheese on home-baked bread. He could almost taste his mother's cinnamon apples and golden custard. He could recall the smell of fried potatoes with such precision that it almost felt to Aidin as though they, and not his own coiled hands, had just been placed onto the table in front of him.
Focus on what you'll eat when you get out of here. Fruit. Grapes. The juice of those grapes. God damn I miss grapes. Fucking grapes. I never even wanted 'em when I was a kid. Now I'd kill for a grape. Fuck it I'd die for a grape. I'd-
A cold, callous touch to his right hand dragged his mind away from the grapes and back into the room.
The Phaal had made its choice. And as soon as Aidin realised what was happening, the Phaal knew that it had chosen wrongly.
The coin had found its way into Aidin's left hand.
My turn, thought Aidin, and the Phaal nodded once again.

Hi,
I bought some very cheap EVA foam puzzle mats for my home gym setup. The mats are very small (30x30cm / 11.8 x11.8 inches) so there are a lot of interlocking points where the mats could separate.
I should have gone for 60x60cm good quality mats or maybe horse stall mats, but I was being cheap and didn't want to invest that much. Anyway, after putting together a ~4,40m² area, I tested the mats by jumping rope. They didn't separate but the whole thing moved around. I bought an anti slip mat to put underneath which fixed the problem.
Then I started some shadow boxing and nothing slipped and the mats stayed interlocked (for the most part; low to middle intensity). Then I added a 180cm heavy bag and started a test workout. And now the problem:
When I'm upping the intensity, the force generated while striking and also during quick, explosive footwork sometimes separate the mats. Small openings appear which are problematic because it's distracting, toes can get stuck and it's overall annoying. I can't go full power because of that...
Does anyone here have an idea how to keep the mats together? Or any other experiences with cheap small puzzle mats?
I thought about simply using duct tape to keep the mats together. I'd tape every mat together from underneath (just using a strip) and use long strips which would cover all the connection lines front to end and hopefully keep the mats in place as one big piece. Did anyone try this? Did it work or were there problems?
I know I should have bought good quality mats but before I say fuck it and do this, I'd like to try to work with what I got.
Thanks in advance :)
Edit: some errors

Let me preface this post by saying this; we’re all spending time reading a subreddit about a show that’s two most reoccurring topics are farts and boobs. We take it far more seriously than we should. I am now going to proceed to continue doing just that, but at least we acknowledged it. My goal of this is to compartmentalize any common ongoing concerns with The Yak, and bring forth any helpful analysis or suggestions. It will become immediately clear that I have perhaps watched far too much of this show, for far too long now. It’s not an obsession, it just takes up a very large portion of my brain. So, let me dust off my keyboard, in order to psychoanalyze and deeply critique the people on this show, who consistently bring me great joy completely free of charge.
Mook
We might as well get the most frequently posted about subject out of the way first. In order to be an everyday personality on a successful daily talk show, you ordinarily are required to possess at least three of the following six qualities.
Confident
Charismatic
Creative
Funny
Intelligent
Interesting
Alternatively, you can also just be physically attractive.
Mook is none of these things. Zero. This is the simple and true reason why he is receiving flack for being on the show every day. Every other member that sits in The Yak studio checks off their respective boxes.
If you go back and watch some of the earliest shows that took place in the old Chicago office, Mook was an integral part of them. The crew was still figuring things out, and with a smaller cast for various reasons, he sort of naturally filled in. The thing is, he wasn’t a bad fit at all. In fact he was a good one, but unfortunately this didn’t last long. He went from a quality NBA sixth man, to benchwarmer, to over the past few weeks, if not months, playing like he belongs in the Baloncesto Superior Nacional (Puerto Rican basketball league). People have said he has become a scapegoat, just as Owen and a young Sas were as well. In reality, none of them have been scapegoats, they all at one point or another have just been the weakest link on the show, and received hate for it, that’s as complicated as it is. Owen was nothing more than overwhelmingly negative most of the time, providing good one liners in between vape hits. In the end, he left of his own volition, and the show improved. Sas was almost a decade younger than Mook is now, and had a lot of room to grow. With time, he did. Retrospectively, Sas also always had the talent, he just needed to get his shit kicked in a bit by the world to harness it. Mook isn’t negative, he’s in fact quite a positive guy, and has already gotten his shit kicked in plenty. What I’m saying is his problems are not the same problems as anyone else previously on the show, he is in a boat of his own.
These are not just the thoughts of the obviously autistic and schizophrenic man typing this though, but of the general Yak fanbase. The comment sections of those aforementioned early shows loved Mook, almost unanimously; they were overwhelmingly positive. Going back and reading them is quite a shock, only having read the comment sections of late. Commenters back then were calling for him to be a regular in droves, and so he became one; now these same people are calling for his head. I am somewhat guilty of never giving Mook his flowers so to speak back then, so I will do so now for anyone who might not remember his best moments: Rap video cameo, Perth trip, gay hands, Mintzy prank calls, the Fella Friday debacle, and he had more as well in just a short time. It has just dawned on me that it is 3AM, and I am writing a manifesto in which gay hands is a point of emphasis. Anyways, Mook by all accounts had a good run, albeit a bit brief. So, what changed?
Allow me to fully don my parasocial glasses, and introduce the primary theory I have. Two things: he’s always been an avid comment reader, in addition to nothing more than him simply running out of shit to talk about. Mook has brought up the comment section himself on a number of occasions, and he’s probably always read them since he’s been on the show. They built him up, and then tore him back down. Any confidence the comments gave him, has been torn to shreds by the same device. The other reason he probably felt comfortable early on is because he had these key moments on the show that were genuinely funny, the only problem is that they were entirely built around stories about himself. He really struggles to make jokes about others, which is a massive portion of what makes The Yak great; everyone can rag on everyone. And when it comes to self-deprecation, the concept is a fine line between recalling embarrassing or out of place situations, and refraining from saying shit that should only rattle around inside one’s brain. He’s resorted to the latter as of late now that he’s run out of the former material, and with him not being a particularly good conversationalist, there’s really nothing he can fall back on. I can’t speak on his stand-up comedy as I have not seen it, but if it’s any good it just hasn’t been translated to The Yak. While he’s not immune to having funny comments, his success rate with jokes is incredibly low.
This is absolutely no slight on him though, as almost all of us would be in the same position, given we are also not qualified to be on the show. We’d run out of shit to talk about in a week, if we had anything original or interesting to say at all. In a way this makes a lot of sense; Mook is not all that different from most of us, about a year ago he was a full time accountant. I don’t know how many accountants out there could successfully fill a spot on this show, but there can’t be many of them. We’ve devolved to his only highlights in the past few months being him essentially bullied about his relationship with a woman, and him injuring himself on a bicycle.
There is one final test I can offer up as a means of understanding this predicament if you don’t already. Truly imagine each member of the show performing in an improv comedy group; if you’ve done this, they should’ve, all in their own unique ways, provided for a good laugh, except one of them. Mook would plainly, be downright painful to watch. More than likely he'd freeze up, and if he delivered anything that wasn’t a bit about cum, it’d be an anomaly. That’s not good.
This is all to say, I think Mook has a place on The Yak. As does Danny Conrad, White Sox Dave, Max, or whomever the flavor of the month is that fans are heaping praise on. These guys are all great in doses, when they have something to talk about, and can also adequately fill in, when necessary, but when it comes to hosting a daily show, you have to be a special sort of talent to make that work. The only reoccurring guests on the show who come close to being on this level, are Feits, Guilio, and Bader. I’m not even going to get into the weeds regarding Mintzy, only time will tell how that develops, or doesn’t. I trust the crew to decide who belongs in a permanent fashion, but I just hope they really evaluate Mook’s role and give him the break that it frankly seems he needs, even if it’s a tough decision. Whatever they decide to do, I’m sure it will work out in the long run as it always does; have some faith folks. For the record, as an avid listener of ANUS as well, I think he fits his role as a producer just fine on there (he’d be a horrendous producer on any respectable podcast).
Kate
People have been coming at Kate’s neck for a while, so I’d like to address that. That is, right after I talk about the kind of person she is, being sure to mention the fact that she has a broken back, just went through a miserable pregnancy, and still showed up for more workdays in the last year than plenty of her co-workers. Never mind the fact that she’s an absolute badass and true patriot, but nobody tell her that. If you don’t find Kate funny, you’re an idiot, but that’s fine, humor is subjective. And yes, she needs to spend at least half as much time on TikTok as she does, but if you’ve read to this point, you need to at least double the amount of time you spend outside. She’s clearly beloved by everyone on the show, as she should be. Kyle would take a bullet for her; Nick wouldn’t, but that’s only because the gunman wouldn’t be able to hit his rickets riddled legs. It should be entirely obvious to any regular viewer of the show at this point, that Kate doesn’t help just host the show, but she also doubles as a producer. Not in the typical podcast producer sense, but more in the spirit of a TV producer. A lot of the great premeditated ideas and bits on the show are of her creation, and even those that aren’t, she leads the coordination behind the scenes. Nobody puts more effort and love into the show than her, except for the first 120 seconds of it, given her forgetfulness to be there for those. She would be sorely missed if she wasn’t a member of the show, and I just hope people who don’t already think this can learn to appreciate her, despite her quest to have a seemingly never-ending list of flaws; that’s a hobby if you ask me, Cate. In all seriousness, she had a bit of a funk throughout the past three seasons of the show we’re calling one season, for as many reasons as one could have, but she’s fully back in her groove now.
T.J.
People have also been whining about T.J. for one reason or another. If you don’t realize how important he is to the show, you have not been watching long enough. The Yak was not nearly the same prior to his arrival, despite the cast not changing in any significant way. He’s got the fastest sticks in the (Mid)west, and while we might not all appreciate his humor, he absolutely knows how to get the most out of the show. He’s the perfect cameraman and real-time editor for the job, and he’s proven this many times over. E.g. Francis big head, Rone green face, any patented Brandon mid-bite zoom in. Given the complete technological ineptitude of most Barstool producers, it’s frankly a minor miracle we have been stuck with him. Ultimately, he knows what the guys find funny, and what the audience does as well. Has his ego inflated since dropping more than a hundred pounds in weight? No shit it has, that’s how that works, good for him. And yes, he is chronically online. He averages three sentences per stream, I can take him saying something mildly annoying every now and then; any other expectation would be absurd for a behind the camera personality, or anyone for that matter.
Big Cat
Get off your damn phone. Him constantly being on his phone and ruining the flow of conversation was long a pet peeve of mine before he brought it up himself a couple of weeks ago. His solution of giving his phone to Cheah (which worked, by the way) lasting all of one show, is hilarious. It only rubs salt in the wound when he pretends to not just be scrolling Twitter and reading the YouTube chat, saying he’s promoting the show instead. Even if that is the reason a small percentage of the time, I could not think of a less trivial task for him to do whilst on air; truly, any of the many, many employees working under him, who are otherwise not doing anything, could do it for him. Nevertheless, him constantly being on it does indeed derail discussions when he tunes back in, and they have to be rehashed because he wasn’t listening. It’s overall just rude behavior, and inconsiderate to his actual friends sitting right beside him, as well as the audience. I’m sure this in particular irks me more than most, but it really is just such an easy thing to get better at that would improve the show.
Nick, Kyle, Brandon, and Titus are all our perfect little angels and will certainly steer clear of any criticism or malice brought forth by anyone, for any reason whatsoever, for the foreseeable future.
Additionally, I petition for The Yak to host a weekly Ronesh Hashana and Sash Wednesday session, naturally observed every Wednesday. Again, there is a reason why you and I could not be on the show, what the fuck was that. Just have them Zoom in for the second half of a show once a week, it would be great to have those boys on and just yakking it up far more often. I would even be willing to compromise, by tapping into Sas’s Xbox Live party while he’s in a COD lobby, if that is what we must do to accommodate his busy work schedule. And I’m sure Brandon would be relieved to move down to at least second in RSMPE (Racial Slurs Muttered Per Episode). The King of New York simply can’t grace the Chicago plebeians with his presence and just go up and leave; we must have our fix. Of course, we must also have Rone involved to stir the pot, or as the Yiddish say, טאָפּ.
Though it may not seem it, I am truly not here to judge the character of anyone on The Yak. It is just an internet show after all, and I don’t dislike any of them, far from it. In all my years of watching, I have never posted on here before, nor commented on a Yak video, nor in the chat. I’m only writing this now because I am overly passionate about the show, and the people on it. The show seems to be going through a period of growth right now, or at least it is reaching a new audience, and during this time I want to see it at its best. Does anything about the show truly need to change? No, it doesn’t. We watch it every day for good reasons. Though it is inevitable that we will always find something to whine about; there are too many moving parts and people involved with it on a daily basis for us not to. And in fairness, it does have its issues like anything else, so if some minor ones could be addressed, everyone might be a little happier. And yet, if it remains exactly the same, that's actually a pretty desirable outcome; I already fucking love this show.
If they want to keep Mook on, then fine, let it be. At the very least, we can try and not drown the dude in hate, maybe he’ll somehow get his mojo back. Hell, while we’re at it, let Kate start her stories about something that nobody saw, that turned out to be about something that wasn’t true, that somehow ends with her being made fun of for having sexual relations with a high school mascot. Let them continue to rib T.J. and diabetic Brandon for their massive collective weight loss of going from two diabetic Brandon’s to two diabetic Brandon’s. Let Big Cat continue to cosplay as a hometown Chicagoan from Massachusetts who went to school in Wisconsin. Let Cheah continue to grill Sas on hypotheticals about his mother’s brassiere. Let Nick speak only about the opening paragraphs of Wikipedia pages. Let Rone manspread the width of four Zah’s. Let Kyle harp on Ecuadorian thickies. Let them continue to bring up Titus’s massive monster of a cock; we’re not happy about it, but we’ll allow it. Let’s just enjoy The Yak.

Good afternoon anybody, somebody, nobody, & everybody
all evidence DM ME
My name is Jain Kunwar
I am a retail trader for 3.5 years.
I am not an ape, I am not an institutional investor, I am not a hedge fund.
Nor do I have any clients.
I do not provide personalised investment advice for fees or commissions or tax purposes.
I'm just an individual investor who did my own research like Detective Columbo/Pikachu.
I come from a broken family, I have been to prison, I have been homeless even at 15 for many years.
I am not a good person, but I am seeking salvation from God.
I been doing Heroin since the age of 13, sober 8 years since the day I pleaded out to God in Merton station London at 1 am asking God to save me.
Which I believe in myself he did because shortly…….
Soon after, I went prison by confessing all my crimes and the judge let me run it concurrently for being honest that I need help and I had no foundation and healed a bit moving forwards in life.
I was born on May 10th, 1994, in Nepal Butwal. Home of the Gurkhas
I came to England 2002 November & have lived here since.
I class my self as Asian British A9
I have been repenting for my sins happily, paying off my debts and learning to be a good human being for I was a sinner till I met Jesus in Church of England.
My one and only father Jesus.
I have been following and invested in Game stop for a long time.
I started educating myself about the stock market since then.
I have been buying shares of GameStop Since 2021 But since 2021 June been incurring losses through market manipulation techniques I.E.
I had been denied withdrawals/ buying or selling options, leveraging options from Capital.NLY

Which incurred me 6 Grand losses on June 2021 and God knows how much/many other investors BIG or small in all exchanges that this effected.
I also have evidence of numerous times the trading app has halted its trade for more then 30 minutes to an hour in a single day! But for these I have videos more then images
I am happy to hand it over if you tell me where to send it.
They kept ignoring me until a month ago in May the 10^th 2024 will touch base here later(miracle)
I have what’s app records of me trying to make complaints throughout the years with no redemption or straight answers.
I once spoke to an employee male & female one said, “We are experiencing some technical difficulties” this was about 1-2 years ago.
The Craziest thing was the ticker was moving in other exchanges just not in the one I was trading from.
Once it didn’t even open for 1.5 hours when it was open everywhere else
It finally opened at 10:49 how I know? I experienced this.
Under the FCA regulations all registered Trading Companies have a duty to protect investors from glitches and “technical difficulties”
Which They failed to do so for me I speak for myself and only what I have experienced.
The company even has glitched my leveraging system of 5-1 which was the setting since joining the company.
where, even if you pick 5-1 you only receive 2-1.
I have evidence of this as well & it’s not the first time either.
I know this has been done 100x of times if you take a Deeper Dive in the company’s own trading platform.
You won’t be able to find in other exchanges as other exchanges are working well so you cannot see the reason as its all “inter- linked”.
“Inter-linked “exchanges one falls apart whilst others are moving causing direct market manipulation.
Quoting blade runner “inter-linked”


Since then, I have been sent death threats anonymously.
Which also I can prove It was sent by him by connecting some dots with you
I met the owner in Wembley stadium in Corporate Box I was invited by Mr Stephen O
He contacted me and invited me to his corporate box on 8/6/24 I went there to find clarity as hackers have been going through my phones and social media with death threats.
Currently he is getting his hackers to find out where my siblings are and such as those are the type of questions I am getting in my social media platforms.
I call it phsing, smishing and vhising all 3 were used on my network.
Using carefully relaying questions in segment to build a definitive answer by narrowing down the wrong answers.
Like how it asks me what horoscope I am, Questions like use your initials to create a Japanese name.
Narrowing down an answer what every analytical mind would do.
I have been going through this since May 10^th after he contacted me.
I have said my name is J to every one of these questions should be in my social media history.
Notice how it says JJ DEAD MAN COVER
i.e
Notice how I met the Owner at 8/6/24 1 pm corporate box …there are plenty cameras there.
I like to be clear here I do not know this person or have his number for him to be coming to my social media as people “whom I know”.
I believe it was the vhising technique of his goons on hire you can see my history for the past month in call history I been getting scam calls left right and centre.
I will also give a copy of screen recording on request.
Then I went home and put a video of his trading app chart not moving like other exchanges for example having a 1-minute ticker symbol does not move for 30 minutes in graph line on my social media suddenly,
I see a people “whom you might know” soon after I posted the video.
I only went to the corporate box because he told me he has over 300 people retail traders coming which I was the only retail there apart from 5 millionaires 4 of which I believe they own the company only speculation whom others are currently.
But I felt an eerily vibe So I did not eat their food or take their hospitality which was probably funded by investors like me getting robbed blind because he thought no one would notice.
I also met a man there I spoke to him he told me His trading account was transferred to their platform.
The clue is there which accounts have been moved without consent or choice?
He will plan to bring all in one to have more control and doing this also erases all traces of manipulation in the trading platform it moved from a very sly way to delete history.
Should not affect me though I joined capital.com ticker symbol. NLY as my first and only trading app.
I have lost all history of my trade’s funds and even portfolios deleted without notice of consent why is he observing my account and why is he deleting everything without my consent? He knows he did me wrong that’s why because he uses capital.com to manipulate the market into his interest.
I can identify all 4 of them even though I only spoke to Mr S.O over the phone and only know their name.
I ended up being the only retail trader there, A poor man in a Billionaires Club
So out of place
I just can’t figure out why, Can you?
The ticker symbol has to be moving according to the time even if the price does not fluctuate the time has to keep moving like kinetic energy.
It has to be moving unless halted which can be only 35 minutes per day but I have counted over 1 hour gone in some days


I have been through mental trauma with hackers trying to hypnotize me with flashing lights and other spiral colour techniques mind you.
I am an epileptic which I grew out of when I was 15 which is highly reactive to epileptic people.
Miracle indeed, as many don't, certainly not after adult hood.

Also, they have tried to ask me questions to figure out whom I am on my social media,
I got closer to their crimes and my truth and they wanted to know what I know or make me join them as per the invitation I believe bribing me to survive another few years maybe?
Hope you Enjoyed the Corporate box Kenny it was from the money you stole from me!
Steal from the poor how dare you?
pushing pornographic and other Hypno/flashing light techniques to my social media platforms
also using racial harassment by calling me Paki Psycho
At least get the country right! Originally from Nepal BITCH Gurkhas Salute!
We both know whom we are now S.O
Which over the past 3 years have also caused me to lose everything…..
money, love, joy, sanity & dreams.
I have been Robbed constantly from these techniques they use also the withdrawal rejection from 10000 to even 100 this was very recently too. Have some images to reference this too.
I log almost everything I do.
That’s just how I found healing/clarity by writing it down.
I spoke to a person named Emma who told me to withdraw,
I have to show all my cards even the bank card “HSBC” which was bankrupt and stopped without consent.
Jokes on them I still had it Q.Q ahahaaha even after I showed them it didn’t work.
Until 3 days later after I lost 65% of my investment.
I like to point out, I mentioned to HSBC many times I am currently struggling and am willing to pay in an instalment plan.
What I can because I did not want my account to close ever as it would effect my credit score most indefinitely.
Also, the weirdest request was they asked me to show them a picture of the different Barclays Cards I have with the same account number.
saying it must be the same card but it’s the same account number same card basically so why?
I replied, I put the money from my apple pay send it back to my apple pay card he said please send us an email of all your cards indirectly refusing to let me withdraw whilst I am in profit.

So, I sent them by email which I should have on my email “for reference”.
He also mentioned he will be my account manager and watch my account after the first time he called me because I am a “premium” account.
I still am a premium account with minimum 5-1 leveraging glitched to 2-1 with only 400 pounds left in my account and still watches where and when as my judgement has been good when to buy.
Buy low sell high! Or just hold but I couldn’t do any of these.
I believe it took him this long for many years the issue was my real name and my social media are not the same people.
As I do not have a social media account anywhere with my real name.

He started taking control of my account and portfolios since the day he contacted me on 2024 May 5-15 around the same time I started losing again drastically.
Unfortunately, I cannot provide you how much money I had made in profits or losses because “My account manager of a premium account less then 50 grand had deleted all my portfolios and trade history to clear his name”.
My account portfolio was called Bullish-CFD
Glory CFD and 3 gbps cfds I ended up with one named GBP usd
How the name changed I do not know
I suspect he closed my shared and opened it in a different portfolio causing 8888 amc share sale in my account 1112 GME shares.
As these most of these shares were bought months ago which I believe he has to pay for borrowing he doesn’t have to pay if it was new trades, I suspect this happened here.
Why else would I not the Portfolio I had designated names on.
This can also explain why my trade history has been wiped.
I did not do this I did not consent this nor was I notified.
Let me make this clear I do not have any controls or jurisdiction to wipe my history of trades if you could compare with other users to see if they have been wiped out and why it has been wiped out as its detrimental for Securities Agency to have correct data of everything that is going on with trading exchanges.
Which makes me believe more in the investment of AMC & GME.
I also believe Mr S.O prior to 2 years ago before all these new rules started coming, he was using his trading account to artificially increase profits by making a profit/gain.
I.E you open a position in a stock that is about to split in the market or going through one.
Let’s say its 2 5-1 reverse split now its 10 he made 8 decimal gains instead of changing the shares according to the split.
This crime trick he used to manipulate the market ended when sundial went for a share split reverse.
I came to realise this when I ventured in a demo account, and it worked but I didn’t do it with real money as that is not the right way.
I am trying to be good doing it the right way.

I have worked physically demanding jobs for many years working 6 days -7 days per week doing 55-65 hours per week, killed my joy in life and even went without food to invest in this company as I believe in the Company board, company outlook and company fundamentals all 3 checks out as a great investment to my eyes a hat trick to a quad trick now.
Putting money in it almost every month in the past 3-4 years.
My journey ends here with my Losses from market manipulation but I will reveal the truth!!!
They have robbed us again and again even the government has been robbed.
just for their benefit ruined many people’s lives all over the world.
Especially now that the company managed to be stable and grow profits.
But the issue here is not my losses it’s the market manipulation.
the company is doing all they can to not close their losing trade which is the
THE BOX everyone is talking about, but no one is knowing about somebody may know though.
Maybe investigate their wives’ accounts and you might find it on a marginal line red line in this account.
The blonde lady. Wearing navy blue jeans. Bingo!
Mr Stephen O has tried bribing me in social media sending women over my home to seduce me but my dog did her job right! And sensed the intentions I know this because I had a media pushed through my social media saying do you want me to send you two women to seduce me in hiding his criminal behaviours but this is not about me
He has robbed millions of people .

I have evidence of this as well to turn it in his favour as I believe he is short on GameStop which is a direct Conflict of interest “the reasons why I am been having these trading technical issues “
Trying to turn you into a gambler not investor! By taking away the withdraw, buy or sell!!!
You see,
The universe spoke to me, and I am becoming the voice for everybody who are being robbed by this man.
Call it a sign, a cohencidence or just dumb luck!
I am not a messiah though I just uncovered the truth!
2 weeks before my birthday on May 10^th,, a stray kitten gave birth to 4 kittens and left only one behind. The squeeze began on my Birthday no fucking way!!!!!!!!
I/we have since, been taking care of her.
Meet My Newborn Kitten.

At 2 weeks old.

I also have a conspiracy theory on this as an attempt to harm my kitten.
To destroy me and make me stop trading.
I have frozen the medication Dr Elliot not a regular vet from that practice.
Well not the ones we see anyways 2 out 3 times.
My kitten was very ill shortly after taking the medication was also recommended to euthanised my kitten.
If you see her now you won’t believe why they would ever recommend this.
Of course, I argued and took control of the situation and saved her.
When I am back on my feet, I am going to a professional to check it out completely.
I like to remind you I already have a dog in this house for that cat to dare to come in my yard and give birth its like it was meant to be here cats? get it?
She is about 2.2 times her size now! Growing strong !!! just like GAMESTOP
CANT STOP WONT STOP GAME STOP
In Jesus name can I get AMEN!
b4 I continue...
I currently work as a civil engineer and am on the quest to turn my life around in my Pursuit of Happiness.
Thank heavens as I do not even hold a GCSE another miracle!
That I have this job.
I am a troubled child, but I still have dreams... of making it in life.
Which is providing my future wife and kids with everything I did not receive,
love, attention, guidance and more importantly a home they can sleep comfortably knowing they will have a place to sleep again tomorrow.
But I do not blame anyone as it was a first time for everyone being a father... a mother...even me a son just as guilty.
But I want you to keep reading this story… as it is very important if you have lost in the stock market as there are many other stocks that are missing in chart it was probably getting diluted for someone’s benefit to maybe stabilise their losing trading account.
I get the desperation that’s how I felt scrounging, borrowing money when I felt like I was about to be margin called totally human reaction.
The way he gained the money to stabilise it was totally criminal though.
I feel like he is digging himself a bigger and bigger hole and that hole is up some skunks arse hole by now.
I also like to point out Mr S.O has notified me that capital is a British company, but I have seen it being registered in the state of
This is the Final frontier.

My judgement was clouded by addiction made me do bad things...
I apologise to everyone I caused harm/inconvenience in the past and now.
I really am.
From the bottom of my heart.
my actions were clouded by addiction it took me more than a decade to defeat my heroin addiction.
At this sober state, now If you ask me anything; I’ll tell you even if it gets me in trouble
without a second thought.
I like to point out through out my columbo detective move I came across various information some even I should not know.
All I’m seeking is justice and peace right now and I hope someone can help me get this as I have proof for most of these speculations.
But I believe Mr S.O has been sending his hackers to feed numbers into my head by keep pushing it into my feed.
Because of this I purposely lost all my trades as I will not participate in insider trading sent by Mr S.O to convict me to silence.
Realising I was being watched by numerous people.
I went into a state of hallucinations, insanity.
It was hard but I crawled back out of the hackers infiltrating my device to corrupt my mind and decisions.
I suffer with anxiety and depression already too and have been suffering further since Mr S.O has called me.
I just didn’t know this before he called me, and all the pieces started to connect.

As this type of speculations and claims are only for the wealthy and privileged.
I know I am neither.
I am a very poor man with no land no inheritance no support.
Everything I earn is from these hands that push tools and this mind that tries to learn investing.
At my day job I give my 110% physically
at home
I work my mind 110% to try being an experienced smart investotrader as I know once I have knowledge and skill, I can make money easily after.
Currently, I am sharpening my day trading skills to further increase my knowledge from investor to a trader.
I earning ends meet living pay-check to pay-check and I will continue doing so to save earn invest and one day have a place, which my future family can call our home proudly safely.
But I still see the deep value in a growing company as the more room for growth the more gains the investment will make.
I learnt this from reading and following great investors of this decade I.E DFV videos of GameStop 3 years ago.
I especially like the one where we roll the 8 ball and just find a random ticker and analyse it you never know what dumb luck can bring you.
A school dropout like me to GameStop and I have learnt more things than I did in my lifetime.
You can learn anything in YouTube now amazing really we should use technology to assist us not work for us I strongly believe not use it for our own personal gain just because you have coders.
If you look through their trading app they chart doesn’t even revert the history into split prices SUPER MANIPULATION.

1 I love the stock/I believe in the stock.
2 the company has board members who doesn’t even get salary.
For this they have my trust of my investment and that they will do everything in their knowledge and power to make this company successful as toys brings “JOY” even to adults.

I kept putting more and more invested in this company, but the stock is being manipulated so it doesn’t work everyone will lose as how the conflict-of-interest person wants it he has survived until now because of this but there were no major leads of this I believe.
[Again, I am here to speak about GameStop and the TRUTH]()
I still see GameStop as a great investment.
The company survived Covid 19, also is profitable and stable currently.
With all the current market price fluctuations
Also the price has not dropped below 40! pre split price.
which further strengthens my speculation,
I currently own only 18 shares of GameStop I did have over a thousand.
But the company owners of; Capital.com ticker symbol NLY.
Have done everything they can to make me lose a winning investment.
They took my buy button my sell button and even stopped trading for more than 30 mins and hid it from none trading eyes in the bigger picture.
He also took my shares and diluted it I have incurred about 61 grand losses from my history of trading because of these market manipulation techniques over the past 3-4 years.
I as an investor a client of capital trading app was not treated fairly.
1 Even when I have raised complaints numerous time over the past 3-4 years was shrugged off because I am just well a NOBODY.
I call it a poor man's privileges.
2 Under FCA regulations Glitches or technical failures that cause financial harm to customers is a breach of this rule.
3 I am formally writing a complaint here and raising awareness with evidence of market manipulation!
would like support regarding the Law side of things and what i can recover from being ridiculed and robbed.
Using my food & leisure money to invest in this company.
I sacrificed my Joy for this investment with my hard earned money by working 50-60 hours a week labour 52 weeks per year non stop you can check my work rota records sometimes even 70 per week in physically demanding jobs.
1He has sent me Death threats today of what I am revealing now since meeting him in Wembley Stadium 8/6/26 (have a image of sending me death threats after meeting him today using paid hackers)
1 3/half weeks ago he called me to say I am in a premium account there are 300 of you and I would like to invite you to meet him today
which was really weird why is he putting my account on premium and saying He is going to look after it I am retail trader I have barely any money in account!
and deleted all my portfolio and trade history everything wiped clean!
+I suspect this was getting rid of evidence as I am right at the heart of the Griffin
I know why he took ownership from me without my consent and sold it without me knowing by derivatives and decreased the market value for his personal benefits.
Because he is already manipulating using this trading platform to control the prices elsewhere.
I have evidence of this you can only see it just DM me
if you look at the charts in their trading platform you can see it yourself to say it’s not photo shop.
no one else can notice it if you are not using the same app!!
+
2 Mr Stephen and his goons have been manipulating the stock since gamestop! 2021
+prior to 2 years ago his app would increase profits even from a split share!
I came across this information on 2022 You should recheck all files that are linked to him and splitting shares tickers as he has robbed them blind too.
I was the only retail investor, there alongside his corporate buddies which I am happy to identify and stand as witness.
I felt safe though as I don't even Fear the Darkest Night as I always walked by faith and believed in God has a purpose for me too..
A nobody like me maybe could be somebody one day!

(all hail great DFV) got to pay your respects !
I learnt trading since 2021
“Once there was a farmer who sold a pound of butter to a baker every week.
After several weeks of purchasing butter from the farmer the baker decided to weigh it. To insure it was indeed a full pound.
When he weighed it, he discovered the butter felt short of a pound which enraged him and made him feel cheated and decided to take the farmer to court.
The judge asked the farmer what his method is of weighing the butter.
the farmer replied “your honour, I am poor I do not own any exact measuring tool.
How ever I do have a Scale.
The judge then inquired if the farmer uses the scale to measure the butter the farmer explained.
“Your honour I have been buying a 1 pound of loaf from the baker Long before he began purchasing butter from me,
When ever he brings the bread, I place it on the scale and measure out the same weight to give him in return.
So, if the baker is not receiving a pound of butter he is also not delivering a pound of bread as promised.
The moral you get what you give if you try to cheat others of what they promised them.
You will be cheated in return.

KARMA IS REAL AND KARMA WILL PUNISH ALL OF YOU WILL GO PRISON

Max had recently returned from his fight with the rogue Gundalians and most notably their army of Mechtogan. Max thought that the battle beetwen Alpha turned Leviathan Hydranoid and Infinity Helios was tense, but fighting a near endless ending hoard of Mechtogan absolutely blew that out of the water. Partnered with Dawn getting corrupted by some kind of dark energy, and the recent incursion at the hands of the Neathian zealot that rigged a battlefield and challenged Mike to a battle. So to say Max, who hasn't known true combat until now, was distraught was an understatement. To take out his anger he went to Interspace to let of some steam.
He was currently locked in a brawl with a man around his age. A brawler called Ren Suzuki. He had brown hair, red eyes and dark skin. He wore casual clothes which were mostly red. His partner was a digital Pyrus Iron Dragonoid.
The two bakugan had just landed on the field for a second time, this time on Max's gate card. Ren's life gauge was at 20 percent while Max's was untouched at 100 percent. The battle slightly reminded Hydranoid of the time he and Masquerade faced off against Dan Kuso and his Ultimate Dragonoid all those years ago.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 1200 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 900 Gs
“Ability Activate!” The Pyrus brawler called out. “Iron Dragonoid!”
Iron Dragonoid roared ferociously as a fire ball charged up in his jaws. A few seconds later he unleashed the attack, which hit Hydranoid head on.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 1200 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 900+400= 1300 Gs
Hydranoid didn't even try to dodge. When the smoke cleared Hydranoid stood still, like the attack didn't land at all.
“Is that it?” Hydranoid deadpanned. “I expected more. Max?”
Max nodded. “We'll crush them Hydranoid! Ability Activate! Eraser Trident!” Hydranoid's six heads roared as they instantly charged up six balls of Darkus energy. Moments later Hydranoid unleashed them. Mid air each ball split into six, as the total of 36 energy balls which flew towards Iron Dragonoid.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 1200 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 1300-600= 700 Gs
Max chuckled. “All too easy.” He said with uncharacteristic glee at stomping down on his opponent. “I guess you and your little Dragonoid aren't up to snuff-”
“Max!” Hydranoid called out.
“What Hydranoid?!” Max shouted back at his partner. “What's so important that you had to interrupt me- oh.”
When Max actually turned his attention to the battle he could see his opponent had activated two abilities which were currently glowing on his BakuMeter. “Double Ability Activate! Pyrus Reflector plus Blazing Dragon!”
Before Max could load in a counter, the Pyrus Reflector ability threw Hydranoid's own attack back at him. On top of that, the attack was boosted by the power of Blazing Dragon. Hydranoid got hit head by the attack and was sent flying to the edge of the arena.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 1200-600-300= 300 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 900+600+300= 1600 Gs
“What's the matter with you Hydranoid?! Get up!” Max yelled at his partner.
“What's the matter with me?! You could have nullified that easily with Double Dimension if you actually paid attention instead of wasting breath with gloating.” Hydranoid snapped back at his partner.
For a split second actual anger toward his partner flashed through Max’s eyes. Reaper’s ball form was glowing purple in Max's pocket, but no one could see that.
Thankfully Max managed to calm his anger. “You're absolutely right Hydranoid. I am sorry, I am just a little… tense after everything.”
“Hey, no need to get so upset you know. It's just a game after all.” Ren said casually to try and lighten Max’s mood, but it only seemed to reignite it instead.
“Just a game? Yeah right. Though I guess you would think that. But guess what? We don't plan on losing to you and your clone. So get ready, because we're about to crush you. Right Hydranoid?”
Hydranoid got up and flexed his eight wings. He was worried about Max’s aggressiveness but he didn't disagree with the sentiment.
“Uhh huh.” Ren said. “Listen if you're done venting, can we continue with the battle? No hard feelings right?”
That only fueled Max's reignited rage. “Oh sure. No hard feelings. Fusion Ability Activate! Dread Decimator!”
Hydranoid's fourteen heads all charged up with Darkus energy. Soon after he unleashed 14 beams of energy which bombarded the Pyrus bakugan. The dragonoid hit the edge of the arena, almost hurting Ren in the process.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 300+1800= 2100 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 1600-600= 1000 Gs
“How's that for no hard feelings?” Max shamelessly mocked his opponent.
“Hang in there Dragonoid! Ability Activate! Iron Valiant! This is Iron Dragonoid's ultimate ability! It brings his power level to the highest point it's been in the battle and it adds the opponent's current G Power to Iron Dragonoid. And it can only be nullified by another Pyrus Dragonoid.”
Leviathan Hydranoid: 2100 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 1000+600+2100= 3700 Gs
Even though Ren’s tone was nothing but friendly, if a little competitive, Max couldn't help but take it as an insult. “I don't need to nullify your pathetic little ability. In fact. Gate Card Open! Pyrus Reactor!”
The gate card opened as a storm of fire surrounded Iron Dragonoid for a few seconds before disappearing. Iron Dragonoid's G Power was now at 4200.
“You raised my G Power?” Ren asked. “But I am double over your power level now.”
“It doesn't matter. It won't be enough. Come on. Give us your best shot.” Max challenged his opponent.
Ren raised his eyebrow. But if Max wasn't going to attack, he had to take the lead. “All right then! Iron Dragonoid, triple ability Activate! Olan Terror plus Garran Demura plus Fusion Ability, Ultimate Dragonoid!”
Iron Dragonoid was then surrounded in a giant twister of Pyrus fire and pretty much roared down the arena.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 2100-800-500-1000=0Gs Iron Dragonoid: 4200+500+700= 5400 Gs
Iron Dragonoid then unleashed the twister or pure unadulterated Pyrus fire directly towards his opponent. Ren felt bad about widening the power gap beetwen Hydranoid and Dragonoid so much, but he just did what Max told him to. Max however held no such feelings.
“Double Ability Activate. Darkus Equalizer, plus Grand Down!” Max said coldly with a cruel grin on his face. He already had a plan formed. Once the dark hydra was hit by the attack, he didn't even budge. Like the first attack of this round, it had no effect on Hydranoid.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 0+5400= 5400 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 5400-500= 4900 Gs
“Sorry. I used Darkus Equalizer to bring Hydranoid's power level up to your own, and then used Grand Down to shut down my gate card which was giving you 500 Gs.” Max said mockingly.
Ren just whistled in response. “Not bad, not bad! You're pretty good Max. Honestly this is the most fun I’ve had in a brawl yet!” Ren exclaimed excitedly.
Max’s eye actually twitched at that. Reaper’s ball form glew even brighter, but no one could see it still.
“Sorry to ruin your fun, but Hydranoid and I will be winning this match now. You might as well give up.”
Ren chuckled at the remark. “Sorry. Never heard of a “give up”. Not in my vocabulary. Let's go Dragonoid! Ability Activate! Ultimate Boost Striker!”
Leviathan Hydranoid: 5400 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 4900+800= 5700 Gs
Iron Dragonoid flew up into the air and roared. All around him flaming meteors appeared, ready to descend upon Hydranoid at any second.
“Tsk tsk tsk. They never learn.” Max said as he lifted his arm up to show off the ability he was activating. “Merge Shield~” he sing songed mockingly.
Hydranoid was surrounded by a twister of Darkus power, some of which was drained from his opponent. When the meteors were launched at Hydranoid, they were all torn apart to pebbles the instant they collided with the aura of Darkus power that surrounded Hydranoid.
“What the- what is that ability?” Ren asked as he looked at his BakuMeter only to be met with a horrifying sight.
Leviathan Hydranoid: 5400+400+600+300+600+2100+500+500+700+800= 11 900 Gs
Iron Dragonoid: 5700 Gs
“No way…” Ren awed at the power level. “How did you… wait I get it. You tok all of my power increases from the fight and gave it to your Hydranoid! Makes sense why you would set down a Pyrus Reactor card, you knew that power boost would go to Hydranoid eventually. But wait! I can still nullify it-”
“Too late! Triple Ability Activate! Fusion Ability Hydra Cannon plus Spice Balista plus Fusion Ability Final Demolition!”
Leviathan Hydranoid: 11900+600+500+1000= 14 000 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 5700-500= 5200 Gs
Max grinned as he saw the power gap widen even further. Really all he needed was Hydra Cannon to prevent Merge Shield or his offense from being nullified. But he decided to go the extra mile, just to see his opponent squirm a little. “Now Hydranoid!” He said before raising his hand and then snapping his fingers. “Dispose of him!”
Hydranoid roared and unleashed the hurricane of Darkus power towards his opponent.
“Dragonoid get out of there!” Ren called fruitlessly. Iron Dragonoid did try to fly out of the way, but was forcefully pulled in by the force of the tornado. He screeched and squirmed helplessly for several seconds, enduring the pain of being hurt by the Darkus power and almost torn apart by the tornado. It looked like Iron Dragonoid was three seconds away from being literally torn apart by Hydranoid's attack.
Fortunately for him luck was on his side in that moment. He reverted back to ball form and shot off next to Ren's feet.
Max just laughed as Ren's life gauge instantly depleted to zero. A moment later he victoriusly caught Hydranoid in his hand.
“Good game. No hard feelings right?” Max said mockingly before turning around and walking away from the arena. “Next time try to provide an actual challenge, okay?” is the last thing Max said before leaving the arena.
Hydranoid in stark contrast to his partner's glee, was worried. Max had been acting a little off ever since the battle with the Mechtogan army, but now he was acting completely out of character. Taking joy in brutalizing bakugan and demoralizing his opponent, even if their bakugan was a digital clone was complete opposite of who Max is.
While this battle had started with Iron Dragonoid reminding Hydranoid of his final battle with Drago, it ended with Max reminding Hydranoid more and more of his original partner…
Battle Log: Max Howlet vs Ren Suzuki
R1: Darkus Leviathan Hydranoid vs Pyrus Iron Dragonoid. Winner: Darkus Leviathan Hydranoid. Winner: Max Howlet.
R2: Darkus Leviathan Hydranoid vs Pyrus Iron Dragonoid.
Turn 1:
Leviathan Hydranoid: 1200 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 900+400-600= 700 Gs
Abilities used: Iron Dragonoid and Erasure Trident.
Turn 2: Leviathan Hydranoid: 1200-600-300= 300+1800= 2100 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 900+600+300= 1600-600= 1000 Gs
Abilities used: Pyrus Reflector, Blazing Dragon and Fusion Ability Dread Decimator.
Turn 3: Leviathan Hydranoid: 2100 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 1000+600+2100= 3700+500= 4200 Gs
Abilities used: Iron Valiant.
Gate card opened: Pyrus Reactor
Turn 4: Leviathan Hydranoid: 2100-800-500-1000= 0+5400= 5400 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 4200+500+700= 5400-500= 4900 Gs
Abilities used: Olan Terror, Garran Demura, Fusion Ability Ultimate Dragonoid, Darkus Equalizer and Grand Down
Turn 5:
Leviathan Hydranoid: 5400+6500= 11900 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 4900+800= 5700 Gs
Abilities used: Ultimate Boost Striker and Merge Shield.
Turn 6:
Leviathan Hydranoid: 11900+600+500+1000= 14 000 Gs Iron Dragonoid: 5700-500= 5200 Gs
Abilities used: Fusion Ability Hydra Cannon, Spice Balista and Fusion Ability Final Demolition.
Winner: Max Howlet

A few years ago I began to question my sexuality and decided to explore that and just see how it goes. I ended up meeting this woman online, she was 8 years older then me (I'm in my late 20s) and she was going through the exact same thing as me, she was unsure if she was a lesbian. I knew I was attracted to both male and female but like a lot of people I wasn't sure if I fancied women or just wanted to be like them 😂 turns out I'm bisexual.
Anyways we spoke for a few weeks and decided to meet up as she was in my area meeting friends (she lived about an hour away from me), I never do this but at the time I decided to meet her as I knew the bar and the area etc. It ended up going well she was nice, nothing happened but we got on and decided to meet up again. We ended up seeing each other (nothing offical but just kind of experimenting with each other) for the next 2 months. The problem was she was a bit full on, she made out like I was the one to finally open her eyes and realise she was a lesbian and because of me it was the first time she felt like her true self, which was great but I wasn't there yet. Looking back I think it's because I was trying to put myself in a box of either straight or gay and because of that I was struggling with myself. Throughout the 3 months of knowing her I was very honest about my feelings and thoughts and we both knew that this was all new to us and we are just trying to figure it all out.
It got to the point where I could tell she was starting to fall in love with me, bearing in mind that at this point we had only known each other for 3 months, and even though she never said those three words it became very clear that she was headed in that direction and kept saying that she will wait for me for as long as it takes for me to feel the same. I felt bad and decided to talk to her about it because I didn't want to lead her on even though I had been open about my feelings from the very start, and she agreed that I have been very honest with her from the start and said she still wants us to keep seeing each other because "I'll feel the same way as her in time". I told her that I didn't know that and maybe we should stop seeing each other. I was very considerate about her feelings and I hated seeing her upset but I didn't know when or if I would ever be open to the world about my "true self" because I didn't know myself and you can't put a timeline on that. I liked her, I did but I just wanted to be her friend as everything was just going way too quick for me when it was just meant to be something casual to figure ourselves out, and I felt awful about everything. She turned nasty if I'm being honest, called me all sorts of names and hated the fact that I had the nerve to ask her to still be friends. I ended up just agreeing and apologising for upsetting her and I understood that she didn't want anything to do with me.
A week after this, she messaged me apologising for how she reacted and agreed to be friends, and said that I've always been respectful of her and her feelings. So, the past two years we haven't seen each other but we message each other occasionally, every few months or so. She's gone on to date other women whereas I've decided not to see anyone, male or female, and just decided to focus on myself for a while.
Now I've got the background of all this, this is the bit I need advice on. A few weeks ago she messaged me asking to meet up with her and her friends for a pride event that was close to me (we haven't seen each other for two years). I said no as I had family plans but I appreciated the invite anyways and I hope she has a good time. The weekend in question arrived and so did the messages, she sent me multiple videos of her friend dancing (like 12 videos, one after the other), I laughed it off saying that it looked like she was having a good time and just thought she was showing off her new girlfriend. She told me multiple times she was single and was basically sending me dozens of drunk messages and talking about the past (see above) at this point it was 1:30am and the texts started at 10pm, I politely said that we'll talk in the morning as she was obviously very drunk and I was tired. She still kept messaging until 3am where I had to eventually mute my phone even though I told her so many times that I really need to sleep and we'll talk the next day.
The next day she laughed off the messages and said that she didn't mean what she said (she misses me, she respects me, I was the only girl she cared about, then we should just delete each other from social media because I obvs don't give a shit about her) the messages switched between nice and nasty but she was drunk so the next day when she apologised I explained that I didn't appreciate the shit she was sending and it wasn't fair what she was putting especially in the early hours of the morning. I probably was a bit harsh but at this point I have been nothing but nice and understanding to her and we was only seeing each other for 3 months from start to finish TWO YEARS AGO, it was a bit too intense and I can't keep going over the past. Again she apologised and I thought that was the end of that and we would just put it down to drunken emotions on her part and move on. Now, two nights ago (two weeks from above) I noticed she deleted me from everything on social media. I stupidly messaged her asking if everything was alright and why she deleted me (I know I probably should've just left it but I wasn't messaging her because I was annoyed she deleted me I was just concerned and didn't know why it would be about something from two weeks prior) she replied back and said "you basically said that what we had meant jack shit to you, you spoke to me like shit and you are just a nasty piece of work" I was shocked by this and it didn't understand where it was all coming from. I replied basically asking how I was nasty and admitted to being pissed off by the constant messaging until 3am. I said that she apologised the next day and I thought that was that and if she was upset by it she should've spoke to me about it like adults rather than just wait 2 weeks and just delete me out of anger. She replied back saying that no one talks to her like shit and gets away with it basically. She said that I was important to her because I was the first girl she'd been with but I obviously don't give a shit about her and never did so why should she respect me. She also said that although I did tell her multiple times to stop messaging me early hours of the morning I could've just muted the chat (which I did in the end) rather than telling her to stop. Again I replied back asking about the way she has spoken to me, not just this occasion but multiple times. And that if I never gave a shit about her at the time I would've just cut all ties when things ended. She had the nerve to put back that I could do a lot worse then her and if she wants to message me something she will and I don't have the right to tell her not too. She's making me feel like the worst person ever for things that happened two years ago.
I've had time to think about things over this weekend and I agree that it's best to remove each other completely (even though she tried to follow me again on social media last night- I ignored the request), but she's just made me feel like shit because I said that things are too intense when we was only seeing each other for three months two years ago, and she needs to move on. We don't have any mutual friends but I'm scared that she's going to out me completely. I'm not out to my family, only my mom, and my friends. I'm not ashamed of my sexuality and I've learnt to accept that I am bisexual. I'm a private person, I'm not hiding it but I'm not broadcasting it to the world either, plus I'm not sure how my grandparents will react and they both have health problems. I've always said that if/when the right person comes along then that's when I'll tell them, I would never hide them and keep them a secret from my family but there's no point saying anything if there isn't anything to say and risk causing problems when I'm not sure how long I'll have my grandparents around for.
Should I just out myself before I'm ready to just so she doesn't have the upper hand or just hope for the best? Sorry for the long post

Hi,
I bought some very cheap EVA foam puzzle mats for my home gym setup. The mats are very small (30x30cm / 11.8 x11.8 inches) so there are a lot of interlocking points where the mats could separate.
I should have gone for 60x60cm good quality mats or maybe horse stall mats, but I was being cheap and didn't want to invest that much. Anyway, after putting together a ~4,40m² area, I tested the mats by jumping rope. They didn't separate but the whole thing moved around. I bought an anti slip mat to put underneath which fixed the problem.
Then I started some shadow boxing and nothing slipped and the mats stayed interlocked (for the most part; low to middle intensity). Then I added a 180cm heavy bag and started a test workout. And now the problem:
When I'm upping the intensity, the force generated while striking and also during quick, explosive footwork sometimes separate the mats. Small openings appear which are problematic because it's distracting, toes can get stuck and it's overall annoying. I can't go full power because of that...
Does anyone here have an idea how to keep the mats together? Or any other experiences with cheap small puzzle mats?
I thought about simply using duct tape to keep the mats together. I'd tape every mat together from underneath (just using a strip) and use long strips which would cover all the connection lines front to end and hopefully keep the mats in place as one big piece. Did anyone try this? Did it work or were there problems?
I know I should have bought good quality mats but before I say fuck it and do this, I'd like to try to work with what I got.
Thanks in advance :)
Edit: some errors

I love reading these so wanted to contribute my own! I did not do super accurate tracking and I'm definitely missing all the misc costs (plus all the things I purchased and missed the return period on), but this should be the main costs. I wanted to stay between $25k - $30k and was pretty successful! First, a few detail shots and a summary of some of the things that went wrong with the day lol: Pictures!
The reason there are so few detail shots is because of RAIN and also a bit of poor planning/lateness. :( I had been looking at the forecast starting 10 days out, and there was no rain in the forecast - even when I looked at the forecast the morning of!! But of course, isn't it ~ironic~ (I know, it is not irony, but the song fits very well here) that it would start raining just 1 hour before the ceremony. Luckily we were able to get all our bridal/party/family pics done before it started raining, but we had to quickly pivot from our planned outdoor ceremony to a ceremony in the reception space. This, combined with the transportation of all our decorations being a bit late, meant that we were scrambling a bit right before the ceremony to move/set up everything and having all the guests then occupy the reception space so our photographer couldn't get too many detail shots. Also, we didn't have our photographer for getting ready pics so we couldn't really get pictures of my shoes and jewelry, his watch and accessories, etc since we were already wearing them. Overall not a big deal because honestly I'm not too concerned with photos and am more than satisfied with having photos of the people/event.
We had a total of 90 confirmed guests + 3 vendors, but 5 guests no showed on the day.
Now to costs - Mostly approximate, but comes out to somewhere around $26,000ish?
Venue fee: $4000. This included access to the venue from 1pm - 11pm (with 4 hours being for setup/photos, 5 hours of event time, and 1 hour for cleanup), all staff, tables, chairs, linens, and tableware. The venue is a restaurant that also hosts a lot of weddings which I loved because that meant everything was in-house and the staff are very experienced.
Food: $6,182.70. This included 3 appetizers for cocktail hour and an appetizer, salad, 3 sides, two mains (chicken + salmon), and 2 vegan entrees for the 2 vegans in attendance for dinner. This price includes 20% gratuity. I spent probably around $150 for dessert? I purchased a half sheet cake, 4 vegan cupcakes, and 1 gluten-free pound cake from a local bakery, and I baked a 9-inch round cake for cutting and two 9x13 cakes.
Beverages: $558 for non-alcoholic drinks (coffee, iced tea, lemonade, pink lemonade, and sodas). $2200 for open bar. Both prices include 20% gratuity, although I tipped an extra $100 on the bar tab because I was surprised it was so low lol. This was another benefit of having it in a restaurant because they had a full bar and a menu of signature drinks as well.
Florals: ~$800. I bought the pastels DIY package from Flower Moxie with a few additional a la carte flowers and also bought 100 stems from a local flower farm. This was enough for a bridal bouquet, 5 bridesmaid bouquets, 9 boutonnieres, ad 85 bud vases. Honestly I could have done even more with the flowers since I had soooo many extra flowers at the end, but story time: The flowers from Flower Moxie were supposed to arrive the Wednesday before our Saturday wedding. The plan was flower prep on Wednesday then arranging on Thursday. Well, about half of the flowers arrived on Wednesday as planned, but the other half didn't arrive until Friday at 11am due to shipping issues. Therefore we weren't able to make the bouquets until Friday, where we didn't have much time because our rehearsal was 12-1 (11:30 - 1:30 due to travel time) and our rehearsal dinner was at 7 (had to leave at 6:30 at the latest, plus needing time to get ready). This + flower arranging with sad stems since they only had ~1.5 hours to hydrate meant that we didn't have time to do anything but the absolutely necessary items. We could have made bigger bouquets, corsages, added more to the bud vases, etc. Our florals still turned out beautiful but I'm just bummed we wasted so many beautiful flowers :( (especially because we left on our honeymoon on the Wednesday following the wedding, so we composted all the extras). Even though this added extra work before the wedding, I'm glad we cut costs here.
Other decor: ~$250 for 85 bud vases, ~$200 for faux floral ground arch, $80 for votives, $200 for big mirror welcome sign.
Photographer: $2,350 for 7 hours and engagement session
DJ: $1,300 for 5 hours
Day of Coordinator: $800
Stationary: Approx. $150 for a printer, $50 paper + extra ink, $10 for invite template from Etsy, $30 for an address stamp, and $80 for postage. With this I was able to print 50 save the dates, 50 invitations, 100 programs, guest book sign, favors sign, and seating chart. I'm super glad I went the DIY route - I love how everything turned out and I needed a printer any way so it works out. The prints came out very high quality. I designed everything except the invites in Canva.
Favors: $312.50 for 125 customized chopsticks. These were a hit - even though we only had 90 guests, we only ended up with 15 extras that were the ones that I left at home because they didn't fit in the box lol. If I brought all of them, they might all have been taken.
Attire: $1,500 for ceremony dress + alterations, $40 for veil, $620 for reception dress + alterations, $250 for ceremony + reception shoes. $180 for groom's suit + alterations, ~$100 for shirt + tie + belt + socks + shoes.
Photobooth: Also DIYed this using the booth.events app. I already had an iPad, so I bought a ring light, backdrop, and Canon Selphy printer for prints. Booth.events lets you design your template. The printer prints 4x6 photos so I had a paper cutter out that let guests cut it into two photo strips. All in all probably ~$280 for everything, not including the things I already had. The photobooth was a big hit with the guests - it was used over 50 times, and all the pictures were saved on my iPad + on an online gallery for the guests. And now I have a photobooth set up I can whip out at other events!!
Guest book: Bought a cute vintage guest book off Etsy for $20 and I already had 2 instax cameras. Spent $40 for extra film which wasn't all used. I highly recommend doing a photo guest book, I got teary looking through all the pictures of the guests along with their sweet messages. I wish all the guests signed, some missed it.
Other costs: ~$900 for two nights in a bridal suite, $600 for wedding party attire, $500 for wedding party gifts, $140 for transportation.
I know I'm missing a lot but I think this is most of it. Overall everything turned out wonderfully even with the rain! I personally found the DIY stuff worth it and I enjoyed doing those things. I have more to say but at this point I've become a bit ramble-y so I'll just stop here! :p

My girlfriend and I have been dating for a little over 2 years. She is a wonderful person; kind, supportive, smart, and beautiful. She even checks off a lot of my personal boxes: she is smart with money, very open-minded, and pretty adventurous (if sometimes needing a little push). I think she would make a fantastic wife, but for some reason I can't shake this recurring feeling that she isn't "the one". Conversely, I feel like it would be stupid to let go of someone this amazing just over some undefined, nebulous feeling, and there's a high chance I could regret it. While I know I don't need to make this decision to marry her right away, I feel like I these swaying feelings should have subsided by now if the relationship was "right". More importantly, we have been making plans to eventually travel while working full time in the next couple months, and I wouldn't want her to move in and commit a bunch of time and money for me to decide we aren't right for each other. Finally, my bother is moving states around the same time she would move in, and if I wasn't dating her, I would want to move with him. So while its true that "I technically never have to decide!" I feel like the time for me to make a decision is now.
I really don't have any major concrete reasons for often feeling the relationship is not what I want. The best I can think of is that our sense of humor seems to overlap no more than like 50% of the time, and we don't have much to relate over. We have pretty different interests, she's very into anime, movies, games, etc. while I'm more into outdoorsy stuff, building things, and computers. Not to say that relationships need a lot of shared interests, but still.
These "ups and downs" feelings of "I could definitely marry her" vs "I think there are better fits for both of us out there" have been going on the whole relationship. However, in the beginning, it didn't have such a heavy presence because we were still in early stages. Plus, somewhat early into the relationship her dad (who she had a complicated relationship with) died and she was laid off. I was able to push my "ups-and-downs" feelings aside for about a year since I was more focused on her. As things have come back (closer) to normal, the up and down feelings have too. And they've grown out of control as this "deadline" of her moving in or me moving out approaches.
So I ask:
How do I figure out this is a relationship I want to continue?
If I decide it's not right for us to continue dating, how do go about breaking up a long term relationship for basically no major reason? She is extremely sensitive, and has had a previous partner break up with her for no given reason as well, which she's already a bit insecure about.

Hi folks,
If you're on an M1, M2, and M3 mac and have found your device unusable since the latest update which rendered the screen so unstable...and to which a promised fix has never materialised I have good news.
[Below solution followed at your own risk!]
So despite Xreal claiming you can't go back...you CAN.
Firstly for the old install file....So Xreal may officially not supply it anymore and haven't linked it anywhere BUT the old download link actually still works. I was able to locate it and successfully download the old version right from Xreal themselves:
https://resource-cn.xreal.com/nebula-prod/web/android_apk/16981471587543268058372269882Nebula_for_Mac-v0.6.0-955-202310231934.dmg
Why on earth they put it in the android APK folder I have no idea...but this is v0.6.0 prior to the change.
Install it. Seems to work with 'keep both' so you can keep the most recent if you really want it and the old version.
The firmware is bundled with it....BUT there's no firmware version control for the glasses as far as I can see so when it connects to this it'll reflash with the old version quite happily then work....
HOWEVER, it will detect the more recent version and refuse to work if you just boot it up right away. You can switch wifi off when you first stop it and this should solve the problem...
I am planning to have a tinker with the below suggestions form gemini to try to block connection to xreal on the hosts file to see if that removes the need to keep blocking the internet. Would probably need to sniff network traffic when the nag starts to work out the exact update server it's checking...but something on the xreal.com website would be the most likely I'd think.
Instructions for blocking it form one of my previous posts (from gemini) below:
If switching off the internet when starting the nebula app gets you round the update nag on xreal and you'd rather wait until the team finally fixes this one it's worth a shot blocking xreal.com using your hosts file - that might mean you don't need to switch off the internet every time you start up. Not sure though - depends where the updates are stored. There's a process to do so on pretty much every OS (for android you'd probably need to be rooted) for MacOs I got the following instructions courtesy of google gemini (you'll need to undo them if you want to be able to visit xreal.com again once they fix it - by deleting the line you added). I would tend to use 'sudo nano' in terminal to edit the hosts file rather than the text editor programme (I'd be worried it'd try to convert the file to .rtf or something..but gemini probably knows what it's talking about and if not then I'd give sudo nano a shot (sudo runs it as root which you'll need to change the hosts file).
Do report back how you get on. I'm very jealous of those of you still on the old version. This update has been an absolute mess at least on M1 macbooks... Instructions from Gemini below:
f you still want to proceed with modifying the hosts file (use at your own risk):

1. Backing Up the Hosts File (Important): It's crucial to back up the original hosts file before making any changes. Here's how:

• Open Terminal (search for it in Spotlight).
• Type the following command and press Enter:
• sudo cp /private/etc/hosts /private/etc/hosts.backup
• Enter your administrator password when prompted.

1. Editing the Hosts File:

• Launch TextEdit application.
• Click on TextEdit menu in the top left corner and choose Open.
• In the Open dialog, navigate to: /private/etc/
• Change the dropdown menu in the bottom right corner from "Text Edit" to "All Files". (This is important to see the hosts file)
• Select hosts and click Open.
• Important Note: You'll likely need to authenticate with your administrator password to edit this file.

1. Adding the Entry:

• At the bottom of the file, add a new line with the following format:
• 127.0.0.1 xreal.com
• This line instructs your Mac to route any traffic directed to xreal.com to your local machine (localhost), effectively blocking it.

1. Saving the File:

• Go to File > Save.
• When prompted, enter your administrator password again.

Reverting the Change:

• If you experience issues or decide to revert the change, follow these steps:
  • Open the hosts file again using TextEdit as mentioned before.
  • Delete the line you added (127.0.0.1 xreal.com).
  • Save the file again, entering your administrator password when prompted.

Hoping this helps Mac users whose devices have proven unusable since the update! Just wish Xreal would deliver the promised update.
They should really update this stuff the plugin for the steamdeck is WAY better than their official firmware. I think they're just so determined to build a locked down ecosystem on smartphones they don't want to open source it and have people enable running of any app on it...Call me cynical!

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality*. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.*
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully*, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"*
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Content Warning: Domestic Abuse
***
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality*. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.*
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully*, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"*
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

This week’s vintage batch features European FPs from the 1930s-50s, most of which are piston fillers. Nibs range from a springy to Wet Noodle, including one dip-pen nib retrofit. As always, all are fully restored and ready to write.
 
ALBUM & TIMESTAMP
 
Pastable link: https://imgur.com/a/QtB5ctS
 
Condition (n.b.): All pens listed below have been disassembled, cleaned and restored with new sacs installed in the last couple weeks and seals installed in the last couple years. Each of these pens is guaranteed to fill and write as designed without leaks or other problems. Nibs have been adjusted when necessary to ensure that all lay down a smooth and consistent line.
THESE PENS HAVE NO CRACKS (except #3), CHIPS, PERSONALIZATIONS, LOOSE OR MISSING PARTS, BENT NIBS, MISALIGNED TINES, BROKEN/WORN OFF TIPPING, OR THREADING ISSUES.
 
Line Widths and Writing Samples: To provide buyers with as much information as possible, I have adopted the following line width standards: XXF (.1-.2mm); XF (approx .3mm); F (approx .4mm); M (approx .6mm); B (approx .8mm). Nib flexibility is determined by variation (max line width under pressure) and softness (amount of pressure). Flexibility designations based on variation generally run as follows for an XF/F nib: Semi-Flex (approx. 1mm); Flex (1.2-1.9mm); Superflex (2mm+). All line width measurements are taken with a digital caliper but should be considered approximations providing a general guide. Width may vary slightly depending on type of ink and paper used as well as amount of pressure applied. All writing samples are on Rhodia dot paper using Waterman Serenity Blue.
 
 
1. 1950s Pelikan 400 (Tortoise, celluloid, GPT, piston filler, 14k KM [F/M Ball] nib). This standard-sized model measures 4 15/16” capped. I assume that the Pelikan pen company requires no introduction here :) This is an example of one of Pelikan’s most celebrated vintage pens in tortoiseshell celluloid with transparent striations for viewing the ink level. Classic gold-plated cap band and Pelikan-beak clip. Two-chick Pelikan logo stamped in captop (see DETAIL PHOTO). This pen is a piston filler: to fill simply rotate the blind cap counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submerse the nib, and rotate the piston clockwise until it comes to a stop. Blind cap is stamped KM, corresponding to the ‘M’ marking on the 14k Pelikan nib. The ‘’K’ is for ‘Kugel’ (‘ball), designating this nib as a ball nib, the tipping finished to give it a wider sweet spot for smooth writing at a wide range of angles. Though I wouldn’t call it a flex nib, it does have a springiness and buttery smoothness that’s quite nice. It lays down a smooth and consistent F/M line by the standards above (see WRITING SAMPLE). Condition: fine [C]. I’d describe this pen as more of a user. It’s been fully restored with a new seal and is guaranteed to fill smoothly to factory capacity without leaks. However, there’s an issue with the piston while unscrewing the blind cap all the way that makes the blind cap want to lift up and disengage when the piston is close to fully extended. The solution to this is simple enough: apply a little downward pressure to the piston when unscrewing the blind cap to extend the piston and it works just as it should every time (100% reliable). This has been factored into the price all the same. Barrel transparency is near mint with light yellow coloration and no staining (see DETAIL PHOTO). Gold-plated trim shows brassing to the bottom of the clip and a sliver around the bottom edge of the cap band as well as some nicks to the top edge of the clip tassie. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprints are deep and fully legible. A chance to own one of these with superb clarity at less than half the price they fetch on merchant websites. Price: $190
 
2. 1939-44 Pelikan 100 Wartime (green Binde, celluloid, NPT, piston filler, chromium nickel [CN] steel Oblique F/M-XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 4 5/8” capped. During the material restrictions of WWII, Pelikan made several, short-lived changes to the 100. In place of 14k nibs they implemented Chromium-Nickel steel nibs marked CN. The gold-plated clip was supplanted by nickel-plated (so-called "reverse trim"). And the gold-plated cap bands gave way to no cap bands at all, the cap being either smooth or milled with decorative bands like this example. This wartime model is 100% original and correct, having all these features, including the original nib. It is made of celluloid with a vibrant green marble Binde. Pelikan two-chick logo stamped on the cap top (see DETAIL PHOTO). Barrel underneath is a transparent green for viewing the ink level. This pen is a piston filler: to fill simply rotate the blind cap counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submerse the nib, and rotate the piston clockwise until it comes to a stop. The Pelikan CN nib is a Left-Foot Oblique (iridium is ground in a shape like your left foot viewed from above). Under normal pressure it lays down a smooth and consistent F/M on the cross-strokes and XF line on the down-strokes. And the line widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.9mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Versatile variation and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it a great choice for shaded writing and expressive styles. And the tipping was smoothed by Rick Propas when this pen was restored, making it just as buttery smooth as a Pelikan 14k nib. Condition: near mint [B+]. This pen comes from my personal collection and is the result of hunting the best example I could find. Wartime 100s are rare and this one, which resembles an artifact from a time-capsule, took me decades to track down. Nickel-plated trim is pristine with no brassing or other notable wear. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other noteworthy blemishes. Barrel clarity is superb with no discernible darkening or staining (see DETAIL PHOTO). Manufacturer imprints on the captop are factory deep and even contain most of their original green fill. The only hiccup is that despite being restored 2 years ago by Rick Propas and only being filled 1-2 times since, this pen only fills to half capacity. And this despite the piston operating as smooth as they come. I’ve regreased the pen, but it hasn’t seemed to make a difference. Because this pen is more off a collector-oriented find, I’ve decided to list it anyway. You’d be hard pressed to find another example of this rare piece of Pelikan history in better cosmetic condition. Price: $450
 
3. 1930s Luxor Visible 5907 (red and translucent web celluloid, NPT, piston filler, 14k Two-Tone XF Super-Flex nib). At 4 7/8" capped, this pen roughly the same length as a Pelikan. Luxor was a German brand of the Hebborn pen company, founded in 1925 by former Kaweco employee Heinrich Hebborn and located in Heidelberg until relocating to Cologne sometime before 1937. In Richard Binder's words: "The company produced pens of high quality, and it was known universally by the name of its signature brand, Luxor, with designs inspired by the aesthetic of ancient Egypt. Sub-brands included Sphinx, Visible, and Grandvisible" (source). The company is credited with having designed the first telescopic piston mechanism, which Montblanc would famously incorporate into its own designs. Despite their high quality, there weren't very many of these pens made and Luxors are especially scarce finds in the US today. This Visible model is made of a stunning red and translucent web celluloid similar to that which Wahl-Eversharp used for the Doric. Unlike the Doric, however, the entire barrel is translucent to show the ink level and piston operation. The cap is also translucent! The celluloid pattern is complemented by nickel-plated clip in an elegant Egyptian motif and triple cap bands with one wider, knurled band. This piston filler holds far more ink than cartridges, converters, and lever fillers of the same size. It is filled by removing the blind cap to reveal the turning knob (see fillers photo), rotating the knob counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submersing the nib, then rotating the knob clockwise until the piston is fully retracted. The pen is equipped with a beautiful 14k two-tone Luxor nib stamped with the pyramidal Luxor trademark. The nib is a Super-Flexible writer, laying down a smooth and consistent XF line that widens to a 4B+ (approx 2.3mm capped) under light pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Thin hairlines, strong snap-back and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it a great choice for calligraphic writing styles such as Copperplate and Spencerian. Condition: excellent+ [B+] aside from a hairline crack in the shank of the nib. The crack can be seen in the photos. It has no effect on the nibs performance or how it writes. And there’s no reason to think it’ll worsen unless the nib and feed are removed and re-installed (something that is only done on vintage pens for repair, not flushing). I’m happy to offer a one-year guarantee (no-questions return for refund) that this crack won’t get any longer. Nickel-plated furniture is remarkably clean, showing no brassing or other notable wear aside from a small spot of brassing on the bottom terminus of the clip. Red color is of an even shade across the cap and barrel. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any miscroscratches. Barrel clarity is excellent but slightly ambered in comparison to the cap's (see DETAIL PHOTO). Manufacturer imprint on the cap is deep and fully legible. An uncommon and uncommonly eye-catching pen that also happens to be a lovely writer. Price: $290
 
4. 1940s-50s Oversized Stylomine 303 Retrofit (black, celluloid, NPT, accordion filler converted to twist filler, 14k XXF Needlepoint Wet Noodle nib). This oversized pen is massive, having a thick girth that doesn’t fit all the way into the slots of the slotter box and a capped length of 5 3/8.” Stylomine was a Parisian pen company founded shortly after World War I. Streamlined profile, clip, and font of the imprint exude the aesthetics of midcentury design. This pen is made of black celluloid with tapered ends. Nickel-plated trim in a deluxe configuration includes cool spring-loaded clip with a hallmark ‘Y Z’ on the right side. I wasn’t able to track this down, but it’s possible the clip is either sterling silver or silver-plated. In 1940 the company patented an innovative FP filling system comprised of a rubber sac shaped into a bellows and attached to a glass ink cartridge at the end of the barrel (see fillers photo). Referred to as an accordion filler today, the pen was designed to be filled by removing the blindcap and depressing the glass ink cartridge several times until the cartridge fills with ink. Since accordion sacs are no longer being made, I followed David Nishimura’s advice and restored this pen using a standard tubular sac trimmed at both ends. This essentially converted it into a twist filler so that instead of depressing the glass cartridge one twists it a little over 1 full turn to fill the sac as well as 1/3 to 1/2 of the glass cartridge. Thanks to the size of the pen, this retrofitted solution still allows it to hold about as much ink as a typical lever filler (e.g. Waterman 52). This pen came to me nibless. But I was able to find a serendipitous match in a massive 14k, iridium tipped E.S. Johnson #4 nib stamped ‘303’. This number matches the Stylomine model number on the barrel! Like all my dip pen nib retrofits, the nib and feed were modified to guarantee factory fit, flow, and performance, delivering the best of both centuries. That nib yields Flexible variation with Wet Noodle softness, laying down a smooth and consistent XXF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.8mm) under minimal pressure – i.e. anything more than grazing the page (see WRITING SAMPLE). Don’t be fooled by the max line width. Needlepoint hairlines, effortless variation, surgically responsive snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it an ideal choice for calligraphic writing styles such as Copperplate and Spencerian. Condition: excellent+ [B+]. Nickel-plated trim shows no brassing or other notable flaws. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on barrel is deep and fully legible with ‘Made in France’ slightly weakened. Price: $340
 
5. 1930s Big Ben (grey shell, celluloid, NPT, piston filler, 14k XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 5 1/16” capped. Big Ben was a trademark of the Benzion Trading Company of Copenhagen, Denmark. The company was founded in 1933 by Niels Benzion, who had worked for the Wahl-Eversharp. A pen of cosmopolitan origins, the Big Ben has a piston-filler patented in England (hence the cap imprint) while the pen was made in collaboration with H. Hebborn & of Heidelberg, Germany. That is why this pen so closely resembles the Luxor above. This particular example is made of celluloid in a grey shell pattern resembling that of a 2nd-gen Eversharp Doric complemented by nickel-plated clip in an elegant Egyptian motif and triple cap bands with one wider, knurled band, and decorative bands at the ends of the cap and barrel. This piston filler holds far more ink than cartridges, converters, and lever fillers of the same size. It is filled by removing the blind cap to reveal the turning knob (see fillers photo), rotating the knob counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submersing the nib, then rotating the knob clockwise until the piston is fully retracted. Big Bens came with two different 14k nibs depending on when they were made and for what market: a nib stamped ‘Big Ben’ in cursive font; and a nib stamped ‘1st Quality’ in the same distinctive font. This pen is equipped with the latter. That nib is a Flexible writer, laying down a smooth and consistent XF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.9mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Thin hairlines, strong, snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it an excellent choice for expressive and shaded writing. Condition: excellent [B]. Barrel transparency is superb with no staining and a yellow coloration (see DETAIL PHOTO). Nickel-plated trim is clean with no brassing or other notable wear aside from a tiny spot at the bottom terminus of the clip visible under a loupe, a couple spots on the lower cap band that have lost some of their original luster, and thinning of the plating on the blind cap’s thin decorative band. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes - scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on cap is deep and fully legible. Price: $330
 
6. 1930s Orion Everlasting 552 in Box with Papers (Black and Bronze, celluloid, GPT, lever filler, 14k XXF/XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 5 1/4” capped. Orion was Danish company (located in Copenhagen) that imported quality pen parts from Germany and England and assemble the pens in Denmark. In 1933 they changed their name to Miller Pen Co., a writing instrument importer that exists to this day. This pen comes in its original factory box with exquisite paperwork (see DETAIL PHOTO). It’s made of the same black and Bronze celluloid Conklin used for the Endura, complemented by gold-plated trim with elegant, Art Deco clip stamped ‘Orion’. Flexible 14k Orion #2 nib lays down a smooth and consistent XXF/XF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.8mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE. )). Thin hairlines, strong, snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it another excellent choice for expressive and shaded writing. Condition: excellent [B]. The only noteworthy flaw on this pen is brassing to the center of the clip over the Orion trademark. Trim is otherwise pristine with no noteworthy flaws. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes - scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on barrel is deep and fully legible. Price: $240
 
 
 
Shipping: Pens purchased on the weekend are mailed on Tuesday. Otherwise they are mailed within 2 business days of payment. All pens that do not come with their original boxes are packaged in PVC or thick plastic tubes to protect them in transit. To CONUS locations the following shipping options are available:

• USPS First-Class with tracking for $5 Due to the delivery delays that continue under postmaster general DeJoy, I strongly recommend that the Priority shipping option be chosen. All packages will include full insurance (covered by me). Rest assured that a full refund is guaranteed (issued through Paypal) in the event of a lost parcel and you will not have to wait until I receive a reimbursement from the USPS.
  
• USPS Priority with tracking for $9
  

International Customers: Please contact me for shipping quote if located abroad (delivery confirmation required). (Note: due to the issues stated above, my international shipping options are currently limited. PM for more info). Please do not ask me to commit mail fraud by altering the declared value of a pen for customs. Not only am I registered as a business but shipping insurance is based on declared value.
New York Customers: For tax purposes, I am now required to add an 8% sales tax on any sale made in the state of NY. If your shipping address is in NY state, please let me know before payment to receive an adjusted total. Discounted shipping is included for NY State residents to help defray the extra cost.
Ordering: Pens are placed on hold for the first person to reply to the thread and PM me with firm request to purchase (no chat DMs please). A request with the words “I'd like to purchase [pen number]” would be best to avoid confusion), to which I’ll reply with payment details. Please note that a message inquiring into a price discount does not suffice to place a pen on hold. If I haven't received Paypal payment within 24 hrs after a hold is placed, then pen(s) may become available to the next person.
Payment, & Guarantee: Payment by Paypal only. All pens are guaranteed to be in the condition in which I've described them. If I've missed something objectionable or the filling mechanism is not fully functional, the buyer may contact me up to 7 days after receiving the pen for a full refund (issued once I receive the pen back in the same condition as sold). Buyer must ship the return no later than 2 weeks after it was delivered to receive a refund. I've sold pens online for over a decade. Please check my past listings here as well as on the classifieds and historical sales forums on FPN (username: Estragon) and FPGeeks (popcod) for some of my previous offerings.
 
 
OTHER OPEN LISTINGS

• Superflex Pilot 53R Koi
  
• Vintage Montegrappa Extra Edacoto
  
• Waterman Nurse’s Sets
  
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• Psychedelic Bayard Excselsior
  
• Waterman Taperite Citation
  
• Conklin Enduras, Nozac
  

I’ve posted about this before and the advice I’ve gotten is to play with him more and reward him for good playtime, and to say “ouch!” and ignore him for a few minutes after a bite, all of which I’ve been doing since I got him in April. I play with him for 40 mins to an hour a day depending on how much time I have, usually in 15-20 min increments but sometimes longer sessions. I use a variety of toys and usually only end the play session when he loses interest despite me switching the toys.
However, he’s still biting and pouncing a few minutes after I end the play session with treats. I can’t walk through the apartment without constantly making sure he’s not waiting to pounce on me, I have to always wear sweatpants or he will break skin. When I say “ouch!” it seems to stimulate him more and he pounces/bites even harder, it’s so hard to get away from him because he chases and latches onto my leg. I have to run into my bedroom and shut the door, then wait for him to stop whining to open it again and try to have a play session. Even when he wants pets, which is constantly, it’s fine for a few minutes and the second I notice him getting overstimulated I pull away before a bite can happen, but he still bites a few seconds later.
I love him so much, he’s so sweet and I know he’s just trying to play and spend time with me. He’s a two year old feral rescue and I don’t think he’s been properly socialized. But it makes me sad that every time I’m trying to just spend time with him I end up having to lock myself in my room to try to teach him a lesson, and the lesson never sticks. I don’t want to play with him immediately after a bite because I don’t want him to think that’s how to initiate playtime, but then I’m constantly delaying playtimes because bites keep happening and it leaves us both frustrated. Even if I’m just sitting on my bed or the couch not moving, he’ll suddenly jump up and attack my legs.
I feel guilty now that it seems I’m not able to provide him enough stimulation. He has a cat tree but doesn’t use it much, I’m going to get a larger one this week and see if he prefers that. I keep the windows open and places for him to sit near them, and he has many varieties of toys all over the apartment. I also put on cat videos for him when I’m gone, and like I said he gets about an hour of playtime. It’s only been a few months but I’m at a loss and worried I’m not able to give him a good home since I’m at work most of the day. Any advice is very appreciated.

My kid had been playing in courtyard with another kid. My son tolerates him but doesn’t consider him a true friend. These children range in age from 9 to 10, except for a potty training toddler.
To be honest, they’re both pretty bad. Her words not mine. She’s said this many times and has hoped my kid rubs off on them. I’ve no idea what that means, since children don’t raise themselves. She’s asked me how I get my kid to listen and be respectful. Whatever that means, they’ve all got their moments and told her he has his moments like everyone. She made a face of disbelief and I shrugged it off. He’s a kid!
I thought all was going well until, I looked out the window and saw that the Mom had sent her three year old out to play and my kid was trying to corral him. My kid isn’t old enough to babysit and wasn’t asked. I called my child back inside because the mother was nowhere to be found. The toddler was throwing rocks at peoples windows and attempting to open their patio doors. His brother had ran off to get candy from the main office. I don’t allow mine to do that every day because the candy is there for guests. Here and there is OK if the manager says it’s ok.
After talking to mine, I was told that she’d locked them out and wasn’t answering the door. I’ve recently torn my meniscus and am on crutches, and am in no condition to watch a toddler. Nor was this conveyed in any way.
I’m beyond annoyed at this situation and am curious what Reddit thinks. Lay it on me? Am I being too harsh?

While playing an online game, (it only happens with online games) the game stops as if I lose the internet connection, then I exit and close the app and I see that most of the things (games covers and names, Spotify stutters and freezes, friends won't load, online apps won't open, etc.) are not loading, so I check the internet connection, In the first internet check the PS4 detects the SSID but doesn't load the rest, giving me the error CE-33983-6, so I try a second time, this time it doesn't even detect the ssid and it doesn't matter how long I wait but nothing happens, and the controller input starts to delay, Then I am forced to turn it off during the test and if I put it in sleep mode most of the time it makes 3 beeps and the screen goes black, and then goes to sleep.
I formatted the ps4, changed the thermal paste and the hard disk but nothing, (the hard disk belonged to a friend of mine who keeps many of them in a box, so I assume they are a little used). With the old hard disk, during the second connection check, the audio on the PS4 started to lag.
While I was disassembling the PS4, I found a black-brown part on the motherboard, as if it were burnt, but I think that wasn't the problem, because in my opinion it would have caused more serious damage, and it's quite small.

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

I've had some concerns about my 4.5 year olds' behavior that I'd like some perspective on.
Here are some of the behaviors I'm concerned with
-common theme of excluding in pretend play: since she was about 2, my daughter has a common theme in her play with dolls whereby her doll group excludes a doll. I try to include the neglected doll, find out why that doll is being left out, or ask my child to think about how she would feel if that was her. Even if she acknowledges that she would be sad if she was excluded, there's no change in the play.
-several massive public tantrums & elopements: although we are mostly past the stage of frequent meltdowns, she occasionally has a massive public tantrum where she runs away from me & takes a long time to calm down. There doesn't seem to be any antecedent--just randomly set off like a switch is flipped. Today at the store she threw herself on the floor & tantrumed while I hung back out of view so I could still see her. She ran away & screamed that I'm not her Mom & crying for help from "the kidnapper". I managed to get her into the car & blasted the AC, but she kept trying to open the door & escape (I will activate the child locks on the front seats as well now because of this). She poured a water bottle over my console & took about 40 minutes to calm down enough to get into her carseat
-never apologizes or wants to accept what she did: I'm not big on the idea of forcing an apology, but I let her know how her actions made me feel ("when you ran from me today, I was scared that you'd get hurt. It's ok to be angry, but not ok to run away from me like that. When we are in public, you must stay with me"). When I say "we need to talk about what just happened" she says "I don't wanna talk about sad things; I'm not discussing this". She seems to feel shame, but shuts down or ignores me when I try to process her behavior with her.
I'm worried because we have some personality disordered relatives, and this combative & dismissive behavior is how they act as adults. My husband & I aren't sure if this is typical or signs of something more serious.
We teach her coping skills & try to practice, but she doesn't use them when she needs to calm herself. She is great about expressing her feelings verbally & is very intelligent, but we don't know if these behaviors are normal at this age.
She had early intervention for speech, and asked about behavior support, but her staff said she didn't qualify when she was assessed.
Are these normal behaviors? How do I address them? She's never responded to incentives or time outs (she will tantrum for an hour if I try to do time out, so I just sit & hold her while she's screaming & kicking until she pretty much tires herself out). She was always a very sweet & compliant child until the last year. I'm trying to be patient & calm but firm when she acts this way.
I will not spank her. I tried it once & felt awful, and having been abused as a child, I refuse to use that as a disciplinary technique.