I’m finally quitting after vaping for 2+ years! Admittedly, it’s not quite because of sheer willpower but because I’m unemployed at the moment so no monies to spend on fruity clouds and my current on ran out of juice. But I think now is the time since there is no other choice. I have tried to quit twice in the past before. First, in spring 2023 where i was able to quit for around 2-3 months then started back again for a reason I don’t even remember, then a second time last February which was a total fail. I had told myself I’d only buy one more and that was it (mega eye roll) but that didn’t happen.
Since I’ve tried quitting before and failed, I’m worried that I’ll go back once I have a job again. And I’m especially worried about how to deal with withdrawals, especially since this is a stressful time period for me because I’m taking condensed classes at uni. I’m just afraid of brain fog taking a toll on my grades and all. Also, the city I live in everyone vapes. Most of my friends and peers do. So how do I completely quit when it’s so hard to avoid?
Are there are tricks to make quitting easier? I’ve heard chewing gum helps (maybe I can say hello to a snatched jawline) I no longer want to be a victim of the inhaler’s evil twin brother!

Any and all perspectives help more than you know. I don’t have anybody to really talk about this with so any guidance is appreciated. It’s a lot to read, I might yap but with reason
I’m 19 years old and have just finished my spring semester of college. I went to a big college out of town, my main financial aid fucked me over so I had to switch at semester to my home state’s university. Anyway, this year was kinda tough for me lost a couple family members & my boyfriend had it rough, lost his best friend and dad within a few months of each other. Then we find out I’m pregnant. I wasn’t sure what I really wanted but didn’t get to make a choice, I miscarried sometime later. It was hard so I went back to hometown & finished semester online while staying with boyfriend until I needed to move my stuff out of dorm.
My boyfriend is 19 and we’ve been together a year & a half, but known each other since middle school. We dated in 8 grade until he had to move out of state, he moved back & we started hanging out again. My circle is small & I don’t really make/have any friends but he’s my best friend. Even if we wouldn’t have chose to date after he came back to town, ik we would’ve been good friends. My family liked him or seemed to at least, especially my mom.
It’s well known in my family that my mom and I just don’t get along. She kept me quite literally locked away as the Cinderella child until I left. I could only do things if she wasn’t in a bad mood/something didn’t need cleaned/ a child didn’t need to be picked up/dropped off. My friends in high school never invited me ANYWHERE lmao but after a while I figured out it’s easier to just deal w it rather than push back harder. I didn’t know how to use a crosswalk until I was 14 lmao I was so sheltered sorry ANYWAYS, I turned 18 and it was like I had a brand new mother until her fear of me leaving wore off.
Long story short, the summer before I left for college (last summer) my mom & I got into a fight, I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I moved in with boyfriend. My mom did the absolute most, almost got me fired from my job & ambulance ended up being called from how much of a tantrum she threw. It was so ridiculous that she refused to tell anybody what happened when people asked because she said it’s too embarrassing for her.
Just like that, she flipped. My boyfriend had a rough upbringing which she knows some stuff about. She took that and twisted the narrative to make him seem like some sort of charity case that took advantage of her generous & good graces. She calls him the hungry kid who hangs out w her daughter behind my back. He’s no longer allowed at her house lmao just out of spite. He never said a word to her or about her when she had the worst to say about him, he never was disrespectful or showed up to the house either so idrk why she said that. Even when I moved out & she drained my entire savings I had worked for since I was 15, he never said anything bad about her just that i was going to be okay & he’s gonna help me figure it out. Not only that but she shunned me for a long time, refused to talk & look at me after I moved out. My little brother was 5 and didn’t really understand but my mom didn’t try to explain or kid proof it, just let him scream, cry, & claw at my legs whenever I’d leave the house to go home. I felt incredibly guilty & like I had to compensate so I’d stress out & make sure to see her and my siblings every single day till I left for college.
If you’re still reading thank you sm.
Fast forward to today, I went to college finished my semester and am back in my hometown. Over breaks in college I’ve stayed at my moms cause she expected me to and her & I’s relationship has gotten so much better with distance. Between her and boyfriend, they were my biggest support especially with the miscarriage. But the only conversation they’ve had is when him and I went to talk to my mom in person when I found out I was pregnant. Not sure where she stands with him idrc but I’m sure she probably hates him more since we did technically make her worst fear as a mother come true.
Im living with her now mainly cause I don’t want to be isolated again & i physically cant deal with the debilitating anxiety and guilt every day, I wanted to try to focus on healing & resting before I start classes in the fall. Boyfriend’s family situation is getting v challenging for him, hes gonna get a place regardless. I really just want a space where I’m not feeling constantly overstimulated & I miss living with him a lot honestly. We make the best team & it’s so easy with him. I catch myself getting so excited looking at furniture even from the thrift or think ab cooking meals w him or decorating. I miss him making breakfast for me before I wake up and folding laundry together and grocery shopping. He’s paying 6 months rent in advance so that I won’t have to worry about getting enough hours & can enjoy summer and actually rest. Both of us independently have a pretty thick cushion to fall back on too just in case. So finances aren’t a problem I think?
My mom isn’t too keen on the idea. I think she doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes she made, which I understand because I was also there when she was left with half of every pair of shoes she owned, I mean he took literally half of everything. Even in the case that we do break up and then I’m stuck with an apartment with my ex and have completely fucked myself over, at least I was able to make my own mistake for the first time and learn from it? Idk what to tell my mom or how the conversation should go. I don’t wanna be shunned again but then again I’ve never once been able to just do something and justify it with “it’s my life”. Idk, advice/thoughts/bullshit/opinions please please help. Have a blessed day, thank you. I appreciate your time & input more than you know, I don’t have anybody to bounce ideas around with.

Any and all perspectives help more than you know. I don’t have anybody to really talk about this with so any guidance is appreciated. It’s a lot to read, I might yap but with reason
I’m 19 years old and have just finished my spring semester of college. I went to a big college out of town, my main financial aid fucked me over so I had to switch at semester to my home state’s university. Anyway, this year was kinda tough for me lost a couple family members & my boyfriend had it rough, lost his best friend and dad within a few months of each other. Then in March, we find out I’m pregnant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted but didn’t really get to make a choice, soon after I miscarried. It was difficult so I went back to hometown & finished semester online while staying with boyfriend until I needed to move my stuff out of dorm.
My boyfriend is 19 and we’ve been together a year & a half, but known each other since middle school. We dated in 8 grade until he had to move out of state, he moved back & we started hanging out again. My circle is small & I don’t really make/have any friends but he’s my best friend. Even if we wouldn’t have chose to date after he came back to town, ik we would’ve been good friends. My family liked him or seemed to at least, especially my mom.
It’s well known in my family that my mom and I just don’t get along. She kept me quite literally locked away as the Cinderella child until I left. I could only do stuff if she wasn’t in a bad mood/something didn’t need cleaned/ a child didn’t need to be picked up/dropped off. After a while I figured out life is better if i deal w it instead of push back harder. My friends in high school never invited me ANYWHERE, I didn’t know how to use a crosswalk until I was 14 lmao I was so sheltered sorry ANYWAYS, I turned 18 and it was like I had a brand new mother until her fear of me leaving wore off.
Long story short, the summer before I left for college (last summer) my mom & I got into a fight, I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I moved in with boyfriend. My mom did the absolute most, wouldnt let me get any of my stuff or car for a few weeks (I had purchased almost EVERYTHING for myself since I was 15, including my car that she told me since I bought it as a minor I couldn’t have it under my name :/ ), almost got me fired from my job & ambulance ended up being called from how much of a tantrum she threw. It was so ridiculous that she refused to tell anybody what happened when people asked because she said it’s too embarrassing for her.
Just like that, she flipped. My boyfriend had a rough upbringing which she knows some stuff about. She took that and twisted the narrative to make him seem like some sort of charity case that took advantage of her generous & good graces. She calls him the hungry kid who hangs out w her daughter. He’s no longer allowed at her house lmao just out of spite. He never said a word to her or about her even when she had the worst to say about him, he never was disrespectful or showed up to the house either so idrk why she said that. Even when I moved out & she drained my entire savings I had worked for since I was 15, he never said anything bad about her just that i was going to be okay & he’s gonna help me figure it out.
Not only that but she shunned me for a long time, refused to talk & look at me after I moved out. My little brother was 5 and didn’t really understand & my mom didn’t bother to explain or kid proof it, just let him scream, cry, & claw at my legs whenever I’d leave the house to go home. I felt so guilty & like I had to compensate so I’d stress out & make sure to see my siblings every single day till I left for college.
If you’re still reading thank you sm.
Fast forward to today, left for college & it didn’t work out, finished semester online, and am back in my hometown. Over breaks in college I’ve stayed at my moms cause she expected me to and her & I’s relationship has gotten so much better with distance. Between her and boyfriend, they were my biggest & only support especially with the miscarriage. But the only conversation they’ve had is when him and I went to talk to my mom in person when I found out I was pregnant. Not sure where she stands with him idrc but I’m sure she probably hates him more since we did technically make her worst fear as a mother come true.
Im living with her now, mainly cause I don’t want to be isolated again & i physically cant deal with the debilitating anxiety and guilt every day, I wanted to try to focus on healing & resting before I start classes in the fall. Boyfriend’s family situation is getting v challenging for him, hes gonna get a place regardless. I really just want a space where I’m not feeling constantly overstimulated & I miss living with him a lot honestly. We make the best team & it’s so easy with him. I catch myself getting so excited looking at furniture even from the thrift or think ab cooking w him. I miss him making breakfast for me before I wake up and folding laundry together and grocery shopping. He’s paying 6 months rent in advance so that I won’t have to worry about getting enough hours & can enjoy summer and actually rest. Both of us independently have a pretty thick cushion to fall back on too just in case. So finances aren’t a problem I think?
My mom isn’t too keen on the idea. I think she doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes she made, which I understand because I was also there when she was left with half of every pair of shoes she owned, I mean he took literally half of everything. Even in the case that we do break up and then I’m stuck with an apartment with my ex and have completely fucked myself over, at least I made my first mistake & learned from it? Idk what to tell my mom or how the conversation should go. I don’t wanna be shunned again but then again I’ve never once been able to just do something and justify it with “it’s my life”. Advice/thoughts/bullshit/opinions? Have a blessed day, I appreciate your time & input more than you know.

Welcome to the thirty-sixth season of DK's Survivor.
For this season, 20 new contestants will be left to fend for themselves in the Aran Islands of Ireland, where they will face a brand-new twist in Ghost Island, giving them a chance to right the wrongs of past castaways.
In the end only one person will be left, and they will claim the title of sole survivor.
Season link: https://brantsteele.com/survivo36/r.php?c=FWrXAgyj
Caherard Tribe:

• Amadeus Artadi - 22 - Gymnast - Los Angeles, CA, USA - u/swoldow
• Ashley Dixa - 22 - Unemployed - Orlando, FL, USA - u/AshZomboy
• Darrick Timmings - 25 - Musician - Buffalo, NY, USA - u/SilverOwl24
• Georgia Powell - 28 - Nurse - Salt Lake City, UT, USA - u/Ripecornball60
• Jeremy Fox - 32 - Teacher - u/APurplePenguin_
• Lillian Gray - 27 - Event Planner - Boston, MA, USA - u/SilverOwl24
• Mateo Dunn - 55 - Former Child Star - Las Vegas, NV, USA - u/Ripecornball60
• Roger Lavoie - 67 - Construction Worker - Little Rock, AR, USA - u/Popular-Scientist648
• Sakura Chiba - 25 - Model - Las Vegas, NV, USA - u/BigTeddyBear20
• Trisha Brown - 31 - Novelist - u/ToastieGreep

Kilronan Tribe:

• Cameron Sheaffer - 27 - Fashion Designer - Statesville, NC, USA - u/Sxvorii
• Cecily Maga - 72 - Model - Los Angeles, CA, USA - u/AshZomboy
• Clint Moonshine - 46 - Club Owner / Retired Actor - Colorado Springs, CO, USA - u/swoldow
• Kisha Han - 24 - Tech Assistant - Reno, NV, USA - u/Sxvorii
• Layla Worthington - 26 - Event Coordinator - New York City, NY, USA - u/wordonthestreet2
• Mariano Puentes - 19 - High School Student - u/Nahuelfire39
• Miriam Wexon - 61 - Unemployed - u/ToastieGreep
• Noah Kaimana - 28 - Server - Honolulu, HI, USA - u/Technical_Mushroom12
• Rose Wheeler - 27 - Veterinarian - Camarillo, CA, USA - u/Technical_Mushroom12
• Steven Carr - 44 - Actor - Kettering, OH, USA - u/APurplePenguin_

Winner: _____Steven Carr_____
Runner-Up: _____Noah Kaimana_____
Second Runner-Up: _____Clint Moonshine_____
Fan Favorite: _____Mateo Dunn_____
Link to wiki page for the season: DK's Survivor: Ghost Island DKSurvivor Wiki Fandom
Quick thoughts:
This season turned out great in my opinion. It had several fun pre-merge and post-merge characters, and the Ghost Island twist ended up playing a significant role in multiple rounds. Overall, my favorite contestants were for sure Clint, Noah, and Steven. They controlled so many eliminations, and played very interesting games. Truthfully, I was disappointed that the final vote wasn't a bit closer, because while Steven absolutely played a winner worthy game, it's hard to ignore how well Noah and Clint did as well. Specifically, that double idol play by Clint was just so iconic lol. Either way, I'm still happy with how everything turned out. Super fun season.
Feel free to share your thoughts below. Stay tuned for the sign-ups for season 37!
Previous seasons:

• Honduras
• Indonesia
• The Everglades
• Morocco
• Greece
• Tonga
• All-Stars
• Palawan
• The Brazilian Highlands
• Mariana Islands
• Maldives
• Kenya
• Wild West
• Fiji
• Melanesia - Fans vs. Favorites
• China
• Peru
• Canada
• Mexico
• Heroes vs. Villains
• Grenada
• Redemption Island
• West Pacific
• One World
• Puerto Rico - Fans vs. Favorites
• The Caribbean
• Blood vs. Water
• Wallis and Futuna
• Thailand - Blood vs. Water
• Second Chance
• Australia
• Millennials vs. Gen-X
• India
• Game Changers - Nicobar Islands
• Ireland

Any and all perspectives help more than you know. I don’t have anybody to really talk about this with so any guidance is appreciated. It’s a lot to read, I might yap but with reason
I’m 19 years old and have just finished my spring semester of college. I went to a big college out of town, my main financial aid fucked me over so I had to switch at semester to my home state’s university. Anyway, this year was kinda tough for me lost a couple family members & my boyfriend had it rough, lost his best friend and dad within a few months of each other. Then in March, we find out I’m pregnant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted but didn’t really get to make a choice, soon after I miscarried. It was difficult so I went back to hometown & finished semester online while staying with boyfriend until I needed to move my stuff out of dorm.
My boyfriend is 19 and we’ve been together a year & a half, but known each other since middle school. We dated in 8 grade until he had to move out of state, he moved back & we started hanging out again. My circle is small & I don’t really make/have any friends but he’s my best friend. Even if we wouldn’t have chose to date after he came back to town, ik we would’ve been good friends. My family liked him or seemed to at least, especially my mom.
It’s well known in my family that my mom and I just don’t get along. She kept me quite literally locked away as the Cinderella child until I left. I could only do stuff if she wasn’t in a bad mood/something didn’t need cleaned/ a child didn’t need to be picked up/dropped off. After a while I figured out life is better if i deal w it instead of push back harder. My friends in high school never invited me ANYWHERE, I didn’t know how to use a crosswalk until I was 14 lmao I was so sheltered sorry ANYWAYS, I turned 18 and it was like I had a brand new mother until her fear of me leaving wore off.
Long story short, the summer before I left for college (last summer) my mom & I got into a fight, I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I moved in with boyfriend. My mom did the absolute most, wouldnt let me get any of my stuff or car for a few weeks (I had purchased almost EVERYTHING for myself since I was 15, including my car that she told me since I bought it as a minor I couldn’t have it under my name :/ ), almost got me fired from my job & ambulance ended up being called from how much of a tantrum she threw. It was so ridiculous that she refused to tell anybody what happened when people asked because she said it’s too embarrassing for her.
Just like that, she flipped. My boyfriend had a rough upbringing which she knows some stuff about. She took that and twisted the narrative to make him seem like some sort of charity case that took advantage of her generous & good graces. She calls him the hungry kid who hangs out w her daughter. He’s no longer allowed at her house lmao just out of spite. He never said a word to her or about her even when she had the worst to say about him, he never was disrespectful or showed up to the house either so idrk why she said that. Even when I moved out & she drained my entire savings I had worked for since I was 15, he never said anything bad about her just that i was going to be okay & he’s gonna help me figure it out.
Not only that but she shunned me for a long time, refused to talk & look at me after I moved out. My little brother was 5 and didn’t really understand & my mom didn’t bother to explain or kid proof it, just let him scream, cry, & claw at my legs whenever I’d leave the house to go home. I felt so guilty & like I had to compensate so I’d stress out & make sure to see my siblings every single day till I left for college.
If you’re still reading thank you sm.
Fast forward to today, left for college & it didn’t work out, finished semester online, and am back in my hometown. Over breaks in college I’ve stayed at my moms cause she expected me to and her & I’s relationship has gotten so much better with distance. Between her and boyfriend, they were my biggest & only support especially with the miscarriage. But the only conversation they’ve had is when him and I went to talk to my mom in person when I found out I was pregnant. Not sure where she stands with him idrc but I’m sure she probably hates him more since we did technically make her worst fear as a mother come true.
Im living with her now, mainly cause I don’t want to be isolated again & i physically cant deal with the debilitating anxiety and guilt every day, I wanted to try to focus on healing & resting before I start classes in the fall. Boyfriend’s family situation is getting v challenging for him, hes gonna get a place regardless. I really just want a space where I’m not feeling constantly overstimulated & I miss living with him a lot honestly. We make the best team & it’s so easy with him. I catch myself getting so excited looking at furniture even from the thrift or think ab cooking w him. I miss him making breakfast for me before I wake up and folding laundry together and grocery shopping. He’s paying 6 months rent in advance so that I won’t have to worry about getting enough hours & can enjoy summer and actually rest. Both of us independently have a pretty thick cushion to fall back on too just in case. So finances aren’t a problem I think?
My mom isn’t too keen on the idea. I think she doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes she made, which I understand because I was also there when she was left with half of every pair of shoes she owned, I mean he took literally half of everything. Even in the case that we do break up and then I’m stuck with an apartment with my ex and have completely fucked myself over, at least I made my first mistake & learned from it? Idk what to tell my mom or how the conversation should go. I don’t wanna be shunned again but then again I’ve never once been able to just do something and justify it with “it’s my life”. Advice/thoughts/bullshit/opinions? Have a blessed day, I appreciate your time & input more than you know.

My name is XXX, and I am a Freshman majoring in a BS for ECET, I’ve been informed of my upcoming academic suspension for the Fall Semester. I take full responsibility for my inadequate grades and my consistent shortcomings. I am writing this to convey that I want to continue pursuing my passion at NJIT, regardless of any obstacles in the future.
Again, I do not want to make any excuses for my poor performance this is entirely my fault, but please allow me to give further context. When I began my journey at NJIT, I was under the belief that I could manage many responsibilities all at once, and I soon realized that it does not work that way. Since the Fall Semester of last year, while attending classes I have also started to work at a part-time warehouse job to support my mother, we’ve been facing some economic hardships prior and I did not want her to be left taking care of rent and utilities all by herself, so I was obligated to contribute. Although this semester has been better in terms of maintaining a schoolwork balance, I am aware that this has not been enough, and I have taken measures to fix this. Alongside this, throughout these past two semesters, I’ve been facing some deep-seated mental problems that I have not been attempting to look for assistance with because of my then-warped belief that I would be considered “weak” for doing so, I didn’t want to ask for help. Therapists in the past have concluded that I have high-functioning Autism but both me and my parents did not want to go further with an official evaluation because of the stigma that might bring such a diagnosis. Although I’ve always had difficulties in communication and social cues, it was made apparent during the fall semester, which caused me to fall into a spiral. I had to withdraw from a class and retake several classes for the spring semester. I want help with this, it’s been difficult for me to come to terms with this condition and the communication issues I’ve dealt with in the past and which I’m still dealing with, but I don’t want it to affect my life negatively any further, I don’t ask for pity or to be treated any differently.
This spring semester has been better, to say the least. I did attend most of the PACE workshops and some tutoring whenever I had the time, although I wasn’t able to register for PACE itself due to me not communicating efficiently with my advisor, which was a mistake on my end. My friends and I formed study groups revolving around Calculus and Physics to improve on our fundamentals, which has worked for me for the latter. Around March, I began to reevaluate the choices I’d made throughout the fall semester. I feel like I was being ungrateful towards my loved ones and that I was letting them down. That revelation was cemented when my first cousin tragically took his own life around that time. Me and him were fairly close, and even after I left Ecuador after a long visit, we still kept in touch. He told me about how he wasn’t content with how his life was going and was rooting for me to pursue my passions even with the aforementioned difficulties, it struck hard. I did grieve, but in my perspective, to uphold his legacy and to go further it was important for me to pursue what I love even with any possible obstacles. I started to study 2 hours a day, which surely did help me in Physics & AutoCAD. Alongside that, I began to take fewer hours of work for me to focus more on classwork and presentations. My manager has been extremely helpful in circumventing many of the obstacles I’ve been dealing with, and for that, I’ve improved massively compared to the Fall semester. My mental state has improved, and although I’m still facing social difficulties, it’s manageable. Although I’ve passed all the classes that I failed last semester, I wasn’t able to pass Calculus II and therefore I wasn’t able to reach Good Standing. It’s saddening, to say the least, I am aware of the consequences and I do intend to make changes should I come back in the Fall.
My plan goes as follows, to ensure academic success I’ve decided to take much fewer hours at work and to save up throughout this summer so my expenses for the fall semester can be fully covered. My intentions for this summer semester were to retake Calculus II and to do Economics, if I do appeal I will continue to go through with it. She’s reassured me that with her new work bonus as a Teacher Assistant, I don’t have to be worried about our situation as much and that my priority at this moment should be to study. I’ll be communicating more often with my Academic Advisor about any possible financial help and ways to boost my GPA. As for me, I have decided to start scheduling appointments with C-CAPS as a way to help me improve my state of mind, and after careful consideration with my mother, we’ll be going to a psychologist by the end of this month for a possible diagnosis to get proper treatment. I do intend to start involving myself more in some capacity when it comes to student life, and I will continue to attend club meetings as much as I can, as I was previously doing so back in the Fall Semester with SHPE. I will be more proactive with my teachers, and I do have full intentions of being more responsible with maintaining a schoolwork balance.
I hope you can take all of this into consideration, this has been an egregious error of mine but I do want to set things right. I am a good student who simply didn’t prioritize everything in my mind, and for that, I sincerely apologize. In my college admissions letter back in Senior Year I made a promise to myself and to the faculty who accepted me that I would do my best to triumph at NJIT, and although I have had a rocky start, I want to dedicate these years in succeeding at the field of engineering. Thank you for considering this appeal, I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely, XXX

Any and all perspectives help more than you know. I don’t have anybody to really talk about this with so any guidance is appreciated. It’s a lot to read, I might yap but with reason
I’m 19 years old and have just finished my spring semester of college. I went to a big college out of town, my main financial aid fucked me over so I had to switch at semester to my home state’s university. Anyway, this year was kinda tough for me lost a couple family members & my boyfriend had it rough, lost his best friend and dad within a few months of each other. Then in March, we find out I’m pregnant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted but didn’t really get to make a choice, soon after I miscarried. It was difficult so I went back to hometown & finished semester online while staying with boyfriend until I needed to move my stuff out of dorm.
My boyfriend is 19 and we’ve been together a year & a half, but known each other since middle school. We dated in 8 grade until he had to move out of state, he moved back & we started hanging out again. My circle is small & I don’t really make/have any friends but he’s my best friend. Even if we wouldn’t have chose to date after he came back to town, ik we would’ve been good friends. My family liked him or seemed to at least, especially my mom.
It’s well known in my family that my mom and I just don’t get along. She kept me quite literally locked away as the Cinderella child until I left. I could only do stuff if she wasn’t in a bad mood/something didn’t need cleaned/ a child didn’t need to be picked up/dropped off. After a while I figured out life is better if i deal w it instead of push back harder. My friends in high school never invited me ANYWHERE, I didn’t know how to use a crosswalk until I was 14 lmao I was so sheltered sorry ANYWAYS, I turned 18 and it was like I had a brand new mother until her fear of me leaving wore off.
Long story short, the summer before I left for college (last summer) my mom & I got into a fight, I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I moved in with boyfriend. My mom did the absolute most, wouldnt let me get any of my stuff or car for a few weeks (I had purchased almost EVERYTHING for myself since I was 15, including my car that she told me since I bought it as a minor I couldn’t have it under my name :/ ), almost got me fired from my job & ambulance ended up being called from how much of a tantrum she threw. It was so ridiculous that she refused to tell anybody what happened when people asked because she said it’s too embarrassing for her.
Just like that, she flipped. My boyfriend had a rough upbringing which she knows some stuff about. She took that and twisted the narrative to make him seem like some sort of charity case that took advantage of her generous & good graces. She calls him the hungry kid who hangs out w her daughter. He’s no longer allowed at her house lmao just out of spite. He never said a word to her or about her even when she had the worst to say about him, he never was disrespectful or showed up to the house either so idrk why she said that. Even when I moved out & she drained my entire savings I had worked for since I was 15, he never said anything bad about her just that i was going to be okay & he’s gonna help me figure it out.
Not only that but she shunned me for a long time, refused to talk & look at me after I moved out. My little brother was 5 and didn’t really understand & my mom didn’t bother to explain or kid proof it, just let him scream, cry, & claw at my legs whenever I’d leave the house to go home. I felt so guilty & like I had to compensate so I’d stress out & make sure to see my siblings every single day till I left for college.
If you’re still reading thank you sm.
Fast forward to today, left for college & it didn’t work out, finished semester online, and am back in my hometown. Over breaks in college I’ve stayed at my moms cause she expected me to and her & I’s relationship has gotten so much better with distance. Between her and boyfriend, they were my biggest & only support especially with the miscarriage. But the only conversation they’ve had is when him and I went to talk to my mom in person when I found out I was pregnant. Not sure where she stands with him idrc but I’m sure she probably hates him more since we did technically make her worst fear as a mother come true.
Im living with her now, mainly cause I don’t want to be isolated again & i physically cant deal with the debilitating anxiety and guilt every day, I wanted to try to focus on healing & resting before I start classes in the fall. Boyfriend’s family situation is getting v challenging for him, hes gonna get a place regardless. I really just want a space where I’m not feeling constantly overstimulated & I miss living with him a lot honestly. We make the best team & it’s so easy with him. I catch myself getting so excited looking at furniture even from the thrift or think ab cooking w him. I miss him making breakfast for me before I wake up and folding laundry together and grocery shopping. He’s paying 6 months rent in advance so that I won’t have to worry about getting enough hours & can enjoy summer and actually rest. Both of us independently have a pretty thick cushion to fall back on too just in case. So finances aren’t a problem I think?
My mom isn’t too keen on the idea. I think she doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes she made, which I understand because I was also there when she was left with half of every pair of shoes she owned, I mean he took literally half of everything. Even in the case that we do break up and then I’m stuck with an apartment with my ex and have completely fucked myself over, at least I made my first mistake & learned from it? Idk what to tell my mom or how the conversation should go. I don’t wanna be shunned again but then again I’ve never once been able to just do something and justify it with “it’s my life”. Advice/thoughts/bullshit/opinions? Have a blessed day, I appreciate your time & input more than you know.

Any and all perspectives help more than you know. I don’t have anybody to really talk about this with so any guidance is appreciated. It’s a lot to read, I might yap but with reason
I’m 19 years old and have just finished my spring semester of college. I went to a big college out of town, my main financial aid fucked me over so I had to switch at semester to my home state’s university. Anyway, this year was kinda tough for me lost a couple family members & my boyfriend had it rough, lost his best friend and dad within a few months of each other. Then in March, we find out I’m pregnant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted but didn’t really get to make a choice, soon after I miscarried. It was difficult so I went back to hometown & finished semester online while staying with boyfriend until I needed to move my stuff out of dorm.
My boyfriend is 19 and we’ve been together a year & a half, but known each other since middle school. We dated in 8 grade until he had to move out of state, he moved back & we started hanging out again. My circle is small & I don’t really make/have any friends but he’s my best friend. Even if we wouldn’t have chose to date after he came back to town, ik we would’ve been good friends. My family liked him or seemed to at least, especially my mom.
It’s well known in my family that my mom and I just don’t get along. She kept me quite literally locked away as the Cinderella child until I left. I could only do stuff if she wasn’t in a bad mood/something didn’t need cleaned/ a child didn’t need to be picked up/dropped off. After a while I figured out life is better if i deal w it instead of push back harder. My friends in high school never invited me ANYWHERE, I didn’t know how to use a crosswalk until I was 14 lmao I was so sheltered sorry ANYWAYS, I turned 18 and it was like I had a brand new mother until her fear of me leaving wore off.
Long story short, the summer before I left for college (last summer) my mom & I got into a fight, I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I moved in with boyfriend. My mom did the absolute most, wouldnt let me get any of my stuff or car for a few weeks (I had purchased almost EVERYTHING for myself since I was 15, including my car that she told me since I bought it as a minor I couldn’t have it under my name :/ ), almost got me fired from my job & ambulance ended up being called from how much of a tantrum she threw. It was so ridiculous that she refused to tell anybody what happened when people asked because she said it’s too embarrassing for her.
Just like that, she flipped. My boyfriend had a rough upbringing which she knows some stuff about. She took that and twisted the narrative to make him seem like some sort of charity case that took advantage of her generous & good graces. She calls him the hungry kid who hangs out w her daughter. He’s no longer allowed at her house lmao just out of spite. He never said a word to her or about her even when she had the worst to say about him, he never was disrespectful or showed up to the house either so idrk why she said that. Even when I moved out & she drained my entire savings I had worked for since I was 15, he never said anything bad about her just that i was going to be okay & he’s gonna help me figure it out.
Not only that but she shunned me for a long time, refused to talk & look at me after I moved out. My little brother was 5 and didn’t really understand & my mom didn’t bother to explain or kid proof it, just let him scream, cry, & claw at my legs whenever I’d leave the house to go home. I felt so guilty & like I had to compensate so I’d stress out & make sure to see my siblings every single day till I left for college.
If you’re still reading thank you sm.
Fast forward to today, left for college & it didn’t work out, finished semester online, and am back in my hometown. Over breaks in college I’ve stayed at my moms cause she expected me to and her & I’s relationship has gotten so much better with distance. Between her and boyfriend, they were my biggest & only support especially with the miscarriage. But the only conversation they’ve had is when him and I went to talk to my mom in person when I found out I was pregnant. Not sure where she stands with him idrc but I’m sure she probably hates him more since we did technically make her worst fear as a mother come true.
Im living with her now, mainly cause I don’t want to be isolated again & i physically cant deal with the debilitating anxiety and guilt every day, I wanted to try to focus on healing & resting before I start classes in the fall. Boyfriend’s family situation is getting v challenging for him, hes gonna get a place regardless. I really just want a space where I’m not feeling constantly overstimulated & I miss living with him a lot honestly. We make the best team & it’s so easy with him. I catch myself getting so excited looking at furniture even from the thrift or think ab cooking w him. I miss him making breakfast for me before I wake up and folding laundry together and grocery shopping. He’s paying 6 months rent in advance so that I won’t have to worry about getting enough hours & can enjoy summer and actually rest. Both of us independently have a pretty thick cushion to fall back on too just in case. So finances aren’t a problem I think?
My mom isn’t too keen on the idea. I think she doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes she made, which I understand because I was also there when she was left with half of every pair of shoes she owned, I mean he took literally half of everything. Even in the case that we do break up and then I’m stuck with an apartment with my ex and have completely fucked myself over, at least I made my first mistake & learned from it? Idk what to tell my mom or how the conversation should go. I don’t wanna be shunned again but then again I’ve never once been able to just do something and justify it with “it’s my life”. Advice/thoughts/bullshit/opinions? Have a blessed day, I appreciate your time & input more than you know.

Any and all perspectives help more than you know. I don’t have anybody to really talk about this with so any guidance is appreciated. It’s a lot to read, I might yap but with reason
I’m 19 years old and have just finished my spring semester of college. I went to a big college out of town, my main financial aid fucked me over so I had to switch at semester to my home state’s university. Anyway, this year was kinda tough for me lost a couple family members & my boyfriend had it rough, lost his best friend and dad within a few months of each other. Then in March, we find out I’m pregnant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted but didn’t really get to make a choice, soon after I miscarried. It was difficult so I went back to hometown & finished semester online while staying with boyfriend until I needed to move my stuff out of dorm.
My boyfriend is 19 and we’ve been together a year & a half, but known each other since middle school. We dated in 8 grade until he had to move out of state, he moved back & we started hanging out again. My circle is small & I don’t really make/have any friends but he’s my best friend. Even if we wouldn’t have chose to date after he came back to town, ik we would’ve been good friends. My family liked him or seemed to at least, especially my mom.
It’s well known in my family that my mom and I just don’t get along. She kept me quite literally locked away as the Cinderella child until I left. I could only do stuff if she wasn’t in a bad mood/something didn’t need cleaned/ a child didn’t need to be picked up/dropped off. After a while I figured out life is better if i deal w it instead of push back harder. My friends in high school never invited me ANYWHERE, I didn’t know how to use a crosswalk until I was 14 lmao I was so sheltered sorry ANYWAYS, I turned 18 and it was like I had a brand new mother until her fear of me leaving wore off.
Long story short, the summer before I left for college (last summer) my mom & I got into a fight, I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I moved in with boyfriend. My mom did the absolute most, wouldnt let me get any of my stuff or car for a few weeks (I had purchased almost EVERYTHING for myself since I was 15, including my car that she told me since I bought it as a minor I couldn’t have it under my name :/ ), almost got me fired from my job & ambulance ended up being called from how much of a tantrum she threw. It was so ridiculous that she refused to tell anybody what happened when people asked because she said it’s too embarrassing for her.
Just like that, she flipped. My boyfriend had a rough upbringing which she knows some stuff about. She took that and twisted the narrative to make him seem like some sort of charity case that took advantage of her generous & good graces. She calls him the hungry kid who hangs out w her daughter. He’s no longer allowed at her house lmao just out of spite. He never said a word to her or about her even when she had the worst to say about him, he never was disrespectful or showed up to the house either so idrk why she said that. Even when I moved out & she drained my entire savings I had worked for since I was 15, he never said anything bad about her just that i was going to be okay & he’s gonna help me figure it out.
Not only that but she shunned me for a long time, refused to talk & look at me after I moved out. My little brother was 5 and didn’t really understand & my mom didn’t bother to explain or kid proof it, just let him scream, cry, & claw at my legs whenever I’d leave the house to go home. I felt so guilty & like I had to compensate so I’d stress out & make sure to see my siblings every single day till I left for college.
If you’re still reading thank you sm.
Fast forward to today, left for college & it didn’t work out, finished semester online, and am back in my hometown. Over breaks in college I’ve stayed at my moms cause she expected me to and her & I’s relationship has gotten so much better with distance. Between her and boyfriend, they were my biggest & only support especially with the miscarriage. But the only conversation they’ve had is when him and I went to talk to my mom in person when I found out I was pregnant. Not sure where she stands with him idrc but I’m sure she probably hates him more since we did technically make her worst fear as a mother come true.
Im living with her now, mainly cause I don’t want to be isolated again & i physically cant deal with the debilitating anxiety and guilt every day, I wanted to try to focus on healing & resting before I start classes in the fall. Boyfriend’s family situation is getting v challenging for him, hes gonna get a place regardless. I really just want a space where I’m not feeling constantly overstimulated & I miss living with him a lot honestly. We make the best team & it’s so easy with him. I catch myself getting so excited looking at furniture even from the thrift or think ab cooking w him. I miss him making breakfast for me before I wake up and folding laundry together and grocery shopping. He’s paying 6 months rent in advance so that I won’t have to worry about getting enough hours & can enjoy summer and actually rest. Both of us independently have a pretty thick cushion to fall back on too just in case. So finances aren’t a problem I think?
My mom isn’t too keen on the idea. I think she doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes she made, which I understand because I was also there when she was left with half of every pair of shoes she owned, I mean he took literally half of everything. Even in the case that we do break up and then I’m stuck with an apartment with my ex and have completely fucked myself over, at least I made my first mistake & learned from it? Idk what to tell my mom or how the conversation should go. I don’t wanna be shunned again but then again I’ve never once been able to just do something and justify it with “it’s my life”. Advice/thoughts/bullshit/opinions? Have a blessed day, I appreciate your time & input more than you know.

I’m currently a freshman at UW Milwaukee and I’m about to Submit my spring grades in a week I had a 3.5 gpa fall semester and gonna have a 3.8 gpa for the spring semester with a total of 28 credits from both I also saw the guaranteed transfer program for us Madison and I meet all the requirements besides I’m worried about math I didn’t take math fall semester and now taking math 105 this semester which is college algebra and was wondering if this meets the requirement for the guaranteed admissions and if so is it actually guaranteed it just seems way too good to be true.

something very bad happened to my family this spring semester (I prefer not elaborate). I was emotionally hit rly fcking hard for around a whole 2 months (this is my junior yr btw). and I'm still kind of recovering
As a result, there was a significant drop in my grades this semester. Although I've been able to maintain 95+ grades my other semesters of highschool, I can't help but feel like I fcked up. Ive seen so many online forums where ppl exasperatly inform someone, whom they assume to be a naive teenager, about how GPA does not define a person in the college application process. After all, ECs may take precedence over grades (depending on what they are).
However, I have heard (from so many ppl) that due to its competitiveness, CS is just different. That in public schools like UT austin and Georgia tech, grades carry significant weight for CS applicants.
Is there actually a baseline in regards to GPA for CS applicants (especially in public institutions)? and would explaining my circumstances (and my character growth obvi) in a supplemental essay be of any help? (I'm asking this bc in my case, the circumstances were rly bad) plz be blunt and straightforward

I posted before in regards to the situation and based off of comments I am getting a bit worried if we made the right choice. I wanted to make another post to see if we screwed up and if we can fix it.
Short Version-
Child's mother has been neglectful for years, lost custody due to it. Regained custody when dad fell ill, but is still being neglectful. Dad is doing better now and has requested to change custody to sole custody. I am wondering if that was a mistake (as judges often side with the mothers) and if it would have been better to just request to keep it as Joint Custody with the residence being changed to the father. If so, is it even possible to do that now? Final hearing has been set for end of August (we had no other hearings prior to this). Can we mail a request to amend (or however it works) or do we just bring it up during the final hearing? Or is it not advisable at all?
Detailed Version-
Backstory: The mother lost custody of the daughter when she was 5 years old because she left her alone overnight with open alcohol and weed within the child's reach. Father gained temporary full custody during this time. She lived with him, myself and her little (half) sister. Two years passed by without the mother attempting to regain custody when the father suddenly fell ill. This allowed the mother an opportunity to request custody of the child citing that the father could not take care of her in his current situation. The father did not contest as he wanted to give his daughter a chance to be with her mother and give the mother another chance. The judge granted them joint custody of their daughter with the mother being the primary residence and dad having her on holidays. The judge put in the order that the mom cannot leave the child alone and that she must provide transportation for all visitations until father is well enough to drive. The mother lives in AL and father in FL. As a note, their situation has always been long distance.
Current situation: The daughter (now 9) has been with the mother since Jan 2023. The mother has been in contempt of two items on the court order. She has on several occasions been left alone overnight. Unfortunately we learned about most of these incidents after the fact and do not have proof other than the daughters word. We do have one proof of her being left home alone though since we found on her ipad a text that her mother sent stating she would be home later. She also has not been compliant in facilitating visits. The father being unable to drive has been left with the choice of not seeing his daughter at all or trying to find family/friends who would be willing to drive the 12 hour round trip. During Spring Break I had to make the full drive to ensure that we could see her. I was unable to return her however due to a flaring back injury. The mother stated she would get her on that Saturday but later changed her mind stating she had to work the weekend and couldnt get out of it. She said she would get her on Monday evening (the daughter was to go back to school on that Tuesday). We later discovered that instead of working she was on Twitch doing a 48 hour live stream for her gaming page. She then didn't arrive until Monday night turning Tuesday at 12:30am. She turned around and did a 6 hour drive to where the daughter had to go to school without any proper sleep.
We have also discovered during the last two holidays that the daughter is being neglected (to the point where she said she doesn't even want to live with her mom anymore and that she wants to live with us). The daughter told us she leaves her by herself and the mom is always in her room playing video games. She won't take the time to wash her clothes or her hair. She had the same hair style for two months when we saw her at Christmas. We got her hair done and when we saw her at Spring Break, again she had the same braids we gave her 3 months prior. We also discovered that the mom isn't getting her dinner and she has been left to fend for herself. Two video chat examples we saw the daughter getting cheez-its and french toast sticks for dinner. The father texted the mother expressing his concern and that he would like to discuss the issue but the mother shut it down saying it wasn't his business. Also her schooling is suffering because the mom is not doing homework with her or helping her study and instead is in her room playing video games. The daughter has also missed at least 15 days of school unexcused. This information was obtained from the school because the mother does not provide this information. He also had to go all the way to AL to the school to get this information because the school said they couldn't prove his identity over the phone. (not sure if that has to do with mother interference or school policy) She also has not taken her to any doctors or dentist. The last time that happened was when she lived with us before he fell ill. We recognized during spring break that her vision is off and were able to get her examined and found out she needed glasses! We got those ordered and mailed to her.
These are some of the main examples of the concerns that we have with the child being in her mothers custody (although there are many more examples). The father has filed for change of custody and asked for full/sole custody of his daughter. With this request he included details of what I mentioned above as well as the additional examples that were not mentioned here. It was 4 pages of concerns- overkill maybe? Not sure, but we thought it better to be safe than sorry. Unfortunately no funds to hire an attorney to have them confirm for us.
The judge has granted a final hearing on the matter in August. I would like to believe that the evidence above (as well as the other examples included in the request) would be enough to show a judge why the father should be granted custody. Also she would be back with me and her little sister again, so she would have a "mother's support" as well as a sibling. When she lived with us she was so happy and thriving and we never left her alone or neglected her health/hygiene or anything. Her grades were excellent and she never missed school.
But with all of that in mind..I am still concerned that the judge could deny the request for full custody. So I am wondering, would it be possible (and if possible, would it be advisable) to amend the request to stay as "joint custody" but with the father as the primary instead of the mother? Not sure if that can be done before the hearing or if we would mention it during the hearing. Of course the father would prefer full custody rather than joint. But I'm concerned that if we go that route that we would get shot down and we will regret not just requesting it to stay as Joint with change in residence. Not sure if I'm just worrying too much or if we really did screw up.
If you made it this far, thank you so much of your time. Looking forward to any feedback/suggestions. Thank you!

hi guys! i haven't been able to find many people talking about usc appeals for this year, and so i wanted to start the conversation lol. not to start up the portal astrology, but in the dropdown menu at the bottom of the portal, do you guys get the option to input your spring grades? i don't know if that was there before and i wanted to see if other appeals people have it and if it possibly means something. also feel free to yap about anything usc appeals related.

I'm from Canada and back a few years ago, 2021 I think, Spotify introduced me to the Finnish band Turmion Kätilöt which I really like. And through the similar artists section, I also discovered the band Ruoska which I loved but found out their last album, "Rabies", dates back to 2008 and then nothing.
Like most fan, I'm sure, I was surprised when they released "Runno" after 13 years of silence. Then came 2022 and another single: "Kade". With some research, I found this article which mentions a new single in spring and album in autumn. Like the article says, their latest single: "Silti syntinen" was released and my hype for the album was high! Then came autumn, winter, spring of 2023 and then 2024: Nothing. No album, no single. Nothing! The article also talked about a music video for "Kade" but I found nothing.
I cannot find any article about the group except a few talking about their latest single and from what I saw, the band seems to still be alive in their social media pages but I don't speak Finnish.
So what happened? Was the album cancelled? Delayed a few years? Is something going on within the band?

Got admitted to TMU CS a while ago and currently weighing my options. My biggest priority is co-op and work experience.
For anyone who's graduated in the program or currently in CS, how's the co-op? Are there exclusive postings for TMU students and are they from decent companies? Is it difficult to get a co-op, especially during the spring co-op terms?
Also, how is the application process to get into the co-op program? Do you just have to meet a grade requirement or is there more to it?
How is the "university life"? I'd imagine it would be pretty expensive since its in the city but in terms of the social life and whatnot.
and if you can, how does all of this compare to Laurier's CS co-op?
Thank you so much

Hi everyone!
I've been lurking on this sub for a while, yadda yadda, you've heard it before lol. I'm needing some advice regarding my pre-transfer GPA.
I graduated high school in 2019 - I was a 4.0 student, involved in extracurriculars, worked a side job during weekdays and weekends, took dual credit courses, the whole nine yards. Unfortunately, that meant I only had one "normal" semester of college before the pandemic. It significantly impacted my, admittedly, already quite fragile mental health. After being forced to move back home, I fell into a deep depression, couldn't keep up with my online courses while also working full time to stay afloat, and ended up dropping out in Spring '21 with a 2.43 cumulative GPA and 67 credit hours.
So, I took a two year break from college. I moved cities near the end of 2021 and was hired as a fulltime legal assistant at a midsize firm with no prior experience, no degree, and honestly, no good reason lol. I was pretty quickly promoted to a paralegal position and most recently I got promoted to law clerk. They took a chance on me that I will forever be grateful for. They also really encouraged me to go back and get my degree, so I did - I transferred to a different university in Fall '23 and switched my major to Criminal Justice. Now I have a 3.8 GPA at this university, two semesters left until I graduate, and my firm wants to help me through law school!
Onto my question: I know law schools are going to look at my entire academic record, not just my last four semesters. I'm more than confident I can maintain my 3.8 GPA (or even raise it) until I graduate. My LSAT diagnostics (I know they aren't a super great indicator of real scores, but I'm taking my first actual LSAT in August) pretty consistently hover around 168-175. How do I acknowledge the glaring blight of my pre-transfer grades in my applications to law school? Do I bring it up at all? Is it even worth applying to any competitive schools? Is it uncouth to submit some kind of explanation for it, or add it into my personal statement? Am I just overthinking it? Do I just need to go lay down in traffic?
TL;DR - Had a less than stellar GPA my first two years of college, dropped out for two years, got my head on straight and went back, and now I'm about to graduate with a much better GPA. I'm worried that the admissions office at any decent school is just going to look at my application and laugh, maybe even use it as fuel for a bonfire, I don't know. I really appreciate any advice.

Hi! So I’m technically a former LUOA student but I am planning to come back this coming school year. I am currently approaching the end of my Junior year of high school. I attended LUOA from sixth grade through my freshman year of high school. Upon entering my sophomore year I returned to public schooling due to wanting to be around more people my age. However, due to the career path I wish to follow (specifically ministry), I decided to return to LUOA for my senior year and essentially the one thing that concerns me is that I’m a very extroverted person. Is there a way to get involved with other LUOA students?
Also, I plan to attend LU on-campus and I was curious about some of the church options. The church I personally go to is part of the LCMS (Lutheran Church Missouri Synod) and I’m wondering if there are any good LCMS churches in Lynchburg or surrounding towns that have a traditional/liturgical style of worship. I am aware that there are some ELCA churches nearby and while I’m not OPPOSED to joining one, many of them are more liberal leaning and that is something to consider.

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~