Ax kon dokhtar irani

Since after World War II, linguists, due to lack of interest in Kurdish studies, have often neglected the pre-Iranic substratum in Kurdish and focused merely on the Irano-Kurdish layer. Of the Urartian language is not much known either (about 300 words), however, a strong majority of its known words have a identical or at least close equivalent in Kurdish. Urartian though closely related to Hurrian, sound more similar to Kurdish than does Hurrian; this may depend on the fact that Hurrian was spoken at an earlier time period. Mannaean was another Hurro-Urartian-related dialect spoken south of lake Urmia.
It is also worth noting that Armenian scholars have found a few Urartian words in Armenian, which appear to be borrowings via Kurdish.
Urartian: Ale (he says) Kurdish: Ale ئەڵێ (he says)
Urartian: Shuri (sword) Kurdish: Shur شوور (sword) Armenian: Sowr
Urartian: Kuri (foot, leg) Kurdish: Qul قول (foot, leg)
Urartian: xur (deep) Kurdish: xuqul/kur خووڕ/قوول/کوور (deep),
Hurrian: agul (carve) Kurdish: 'kol-[în]' کۆڵین : (to digg), kêla: (plow)
Urartian: shini (you, plural) Kurdish: hin هین/هون (you, plural, cf. sh>h a regular sound change in Kurdish)
Urartian: apa (he/she/it) Kurdish: awa, aw/ava, av cf. Kurdish p>w and p>v ئەوە (he/she/it)
Urartian: Sale (kid) Kurdish: Zaro زارۆ (kid) Armenian: jar (he-goat)
Urartian: tali (stick) Kurdish: têla (stick, cf. Kurdish a>ê)
10) Urartian: papi/bab/babani (mountain top) Kurdish: pope پۆپە (head)/ bani بانی (mountain top)
Urartian: qal/kar (kill/slay, subjugate) Kurdish: qir قڕ (kill, slay, cf Kurdish a>i)
Hurrian: shur (war) Kurdish: sher شەڕ (war)
Urartian: bidia (turn) Kurdish: bada-n بادان (turn)
Urartian: da (give) Kurdish: da, دا (give, Iranic and other IE languages have a similar lexeme)
Urartian: xus/hush (throw) Kurdish: xis-[tin]/hawish-[tin] خستن/هاویشتن (throw, cf Kurdish u>i)
Urartian: karbe (rock, stone) Kurdish: karra کەڕا (rock, stone) Armenian: qar (rock, stone)
Urartian: quira (earth, dust) Kurdish: qur, xol قوڕ/خۆڵ (earth, dust)
Hurrian: arte (earth, soil) Kurdish: ard ئەرد/هەرد (earth, soil, cf Kurdish rt > rd)
Urartian: $erab (dry) Kurdish: chora چۆڕا (dry) Armenian: caraw (dry)
20) Urartian: eue (and) Kurdish: u ئوو (and) but see even Iranic ''ut''
Urartian: tur ( to leave) Kurdish: tor-[an], تۆران to leave
Urartian: ul (to go) Kurdish: lu-wan لوان (to go)
Urartian: ulhu (order) Kurdish: ol ئۆل (religion)
Urartian: bura (slave, servant) Kurdish: bora بۆرە (commoner, low-class)
Urartian: xarxar (destroy) Kurdish: xirxal خرخاڵ (destroyed)
Urartian: ale (but) Kurdish: lê لێ (but)
Urartian: duli (grape) Kurdish: trê, tirî ترێ (grape, cf. l>r and u>i) Armenian: toli (grape)
Urartian: kapi (capacity measure) Kurdish: kap/qap کاپ/قاپ (capacity measure)
Urartian: nah (to bring) Kurdish: hên-an/han-în هانین/هێنان (to bring)
30) Urartian: pare (toward) Kurdish: pîr پیر (toward),
Urartian: pile (water canal) Kurdish: pil-û-sk پلووسک (rain canal)
Urartian: tan (lay down) Kurdish: dan-[an] دانان (lay down)
Hurrian: id- (hit, strike) Kurdish: -d- (hit strike); ([lê] d-[an])
Urartian: teq- (to thump, to break) Kurdish: teq-[în] تەقین (to thump, to break)
Urartian: uzgi (power, strength) Kurdish: wuze وزە (power, strength, cf. Kurdish u- > w-)
Urartian: mari (lord, horseman) Kurdish: mir میر (lord, compare also with the Semitic ''Amir'')
Urartian: shu/shia (to go) Kurdish: chu, چوو (to go, cf. also Iranic ''shiyaw'')
Urartian: euri (lord) Kurdish: hêwir هێور (brave)
Urartian: xarari (calm) Kurdish: oqre ئۆقرە (calm), Armenian:
40) Urartian: zar (orchard) Kurdish: zar زار (orchard) Armenian: car (tree)
Urartian: ur (to place down) Kurdish: wer-[in], وەرین (to place down, cf. Kurdish u-> w- )
Urartian: wal, (to win) Kurdish: wêr-an وێران (to dare)
Urartian: zelbi (descendant) Kurdish: zol زۆڵ (bastard)
Urartian: zeld, (to shatter the enemies) Kurdish: zal زاڵ (to shatter the enemies)
Urartian: qarqar (throat) Kurdish: qurg قورگ (throat, compare also with the Irano-Kurdish garû, and Persian galu, there is also another word in Kurdish: qurquroska)
Hurrian: kut/kud (to make fall, to kill) Urartian: qot (piece) Kurdish: kut کوت (piece), kut-a کوتان (to smash), kud (to kill)
Urartian: xubi (valley) Kurdish: qopi قۆپی (valley, vale, plain)
Urartian: xare (to march, to raid) Kurdish: xar غار (to march, to raid)
Hurrian: Hiuri (smoke) Kurdish: Hulm هوڵم (steam)
50) Urartian: $ue (river, lake) Kurdish: chom/gom چۆم/گۆم (rive lake) Armenian: cov (lake)
Hurrian: tiv (word) Urartian: tiw (to speak) Kurdish: diw-an دوان (to speak)
Urartian: abeli/aweli (attach, increase) Kurdish: awale/awela ئاواڵە/ئاوەڵا (open)
Urartian: an, (no) Kurdish: na, نا (no; there is also a similar equivalent in Iranic)
Urartian: ari-beri Kurdish: birin برن (to carry, there is also a similar equivalent in Iranic)
Urartian: ewani/ebani (land) Kurdish: -wan وان (suffix used after place-names)
Urartian: kulune (side) Kurdish: qulin-chk قولینچک/ qurne قوڕنە (side, corner) Armenian: koln
Urartian: man (to stay) Kurdish: man مان (to stay), (resembles even Iranic, cf. New Persian ''mandan'')
Urartian: mana Urartian: me (prohibitive particle) Kurdish: me مە (prohibitive particle)
60) Urartian: pahi (cattle) Hurrian: pedari (cattle) Kassite: badar (bull, cattle) Kurdish: patal پاتاڵ (cattle) Armenian: paxre
Urartian: par, to take off Kurdish: pirr [-dan] پڕ (to take off, cf. Kurdish a>i)
Urartian: kamn (old, earlier) Kurdish: kavn/kawn کەڤن/کەون (old, cf. m>v but also Iranic ''kohan'' which has led to Kurdish ''kon'')
Urartian: pe? (under) Kurdish: pe? پێ (under, foot, cf. even Iranic pey)
Urartian: shid (build) Kurdish: chê-[kirin], چێ (build cf, kurdish d>nil)
Hurrian: awari Kurdish: awari ئەواری (land, country, field, cf. kurdawari, کوردەواری / warê me وارێ مە) (Armenian agarak has been suggested as an Armenian loan from 'awari'. Kurdish has even 'garak' with the same meaning). Urartian: ur (territory)
Urartian: qapqari Kurdish: gamaro (p>w>m cf Kurdish ziman Urartian: sher (hide) Kurdish: sheshar شێر/وەشارتن (hide)
Urartian: quldi (uninhabited) Kurdish: kawil (کاول) (annihilate,destruction)
Urartian: ar- (give) Kurdish: ar- (give, dialectal as in Slêmanî, for example: ''bi-ar-ê'': بیەرێ ''give him'')
70) Urartian: ture (destroy) Kurdish: ture تووڕە (angry)
Urartian: aba (desire) Kurdish: awat ئاوات (desire), aw-in ئەوین (to love)
Urartian: ada (again) Kurdish: idi ئیدی (another, anymore)
Urartian: shal-i (year) Kurdish: sal ساڵ (year, but Iranian ''sard'', New Persian has also ''sal'') Armenian: tari
Urartian: šeh-i/eri/e, living Kurdish: zhiyar ژیار (living)
Urartian: arnu-ia (come to the aid of) Kurdish: hana هانا (come to the aid of, cf Kurdish a- >ha- )
Urartian: lak- (to destroy) Kurdish: Rûx-[an] رووخان (to destroy)
Urartian: 'are (granary) Kurdish: harr هاڕ (granary, cf Kurdish ha-<-a, notice 'zimharr' زمهاڕ, meaning 'winter granary')
Urartian: ieshti (here) Kurdish: hêsthte هێشتە (now)
Urartian: meshe (part, tribute, share) Kurdish: mûche مووچە (part, tribute, share)
80) Urartian: pi$ushe (joy) Kurdish: pishû پشوو (holyday, vacation)
Hurrian: sheshe (six) Kurdish: shesh شەش (six, but it is the same even in Iranic)
Urartian: izidu (admonish, command) Kurdish: ezidi ئێزیدی (name of a native religion in Kurdistan)
urartian: yarani (kind of cultic building, altar) Kurdish: yari یاری (name of a native religion in Kurdistan)
Urartian: aleu (dignity) Kurdish: alewi ئالەوی (name of a native religion in Kurdistan)
Urartian and Hurrian: /-i/, /-iye/ (his, her, its) Kurdish: /-i/, /-y/ ی (his, her, its)
Hurrian: /-v/ (your) Kurdish: /-w/ و (your)
Urartian: ushanu (award, bestow, feel affection for ) Kurdish: wuchan وچان (rest, reprieve)
Urartian: napahia (submission, bondage, domestication) Kurdish: nawi نەوی (low, a low level, position or degree), (p>w)
Urartian: tur (defeat, destroy) Kurdish: dor- دۆڕ (defeat)
90) Urartian: sal-zi (steep, abrupt) Kurdish: sila سڵا (height)
Urartian: sil-e (woman, doughter) Kurdish: selar سەلار (mistress of the house, beautiful woman) (note ''Selardi'', a lunar goddess of Urartu)
Urartian: lutu (woman) Kurdish: lute لووتە (quoquettish woman)
Urartian: uldie (vineyard) Kurdish: lote لۆتە (grapes hanged in order to be sun dried in a vineyard)
Urartian: nikidu (water) Kurdish: niqdo/niqût نقووت/نقدۆ (water infiltration, water dropping, water penetration), (plus some other cognates of the word)
Urartian: kan/kain (in front of) Kurdish: kin کن (in front of, near) (but cf. also Iranic ''kenar'')
Urartian: haš-ia: (be interested in) Kurdish: haz حەز (be interested in, love, like)
Urartian: d-u-: (do, cause to do) Kurdish: da/di: ده/د (do, cause to do, used as a preffix for verbs)
Urartian: shalur (medlar) Kurdish: shalor شەلۆر (nectarine) Armenian: salor (plum) (clearly borrowed via Kurdish)
Urartian: mure (house) Kurdish: mal ماڵ (house)
100) Urartian: urishi (weapon) Kurdish: hereshe هەڕەشە (threat), /(there is also ''huruzhim'': هوروژم attack)
Hurrian: shini (two) Kurdish: shingil شنگڵ (twin, twin fruit)
Urartian: egur-hu (free) Kurdish: xorayi خۆرایی (free)
Urartian: bad-gul (surround) Kurdish: bawe-xulê باوەخولێ (turn around, also a kids game)
Urartian: aish-ti (leap, jump) Kurdish: hej-an هەژان (quake)
Urartian: ibirani (whole, complete, full) Kurdish: pirani پڕانی (majority)
Hurrian: hinzur (apple? pear?) Kurdish: hencor هەنجۆر (unripe melon)
Urartian: kut-u (reach) Kurdish: (geh<*ged) گەهشتن/گەیشتن (reach)
Urartian: ai/ay: (look, take care) Kurdish: aw-ir ئاوڕ (look)
Urartian: di/erasia (fear) Kurdish: tirs ترس (fear, but cf. also Iranic ''tars'')
110) Urartian: Ti/er-usi, measure for liquid Kurdish: Telîs?تەلیس measure of unit
Hurrian: ben Kassite: ban Kurdish: minal مناڵ (child)
Kassite: nadz (shade) Kurdish: nisê نسێ (shade)
Kassite: ulam (son, child) Urartian: alaue (man) Kurdish: law لاو (young boy)
Hurrian: çugi Kassite: tsugi Kurdish: chuk چووک (small)
Hurrian: ewri (dog) Kurdish wer-în وەرین (barking of dog)
Hurrian: shiye (watery) Kurdish: she شە (moisture)
Urartian: zainua (high) Kurdish: zinar زنار (high cliff, high boulder)
Hurrian: shalmi (ashes, to burn) Kurdish zhilemo ژیلەمۆ (burning ashes)
Urartian: amash (burnt) Kurdish mêsh مێش (burnt ashes) (cf. ê 120) Hurrian: puhi (nose) Kurdish: (kepû) کەپۆ (nose)
Urartian: shepuiaru (spoil) Kurdish: sheprêwشپڕێو (disorderly)
Urartian: mesh- (distribute, share) Kurdish: wesh-[an] وەشان (distribute, share)
Urartian: teribi (monument) Kurdish: tirb ترب (monument, grave) (not be confused with Arabic 'turbat': soil)
Hurrian: fur-i (viw) Urartian: wur-i (view) Kurdish: wuria وریا (viewer, careful), awur ئاووڕ (sight), (even the Kurdish verb ''ruwan''-[in] (view) is likely connected to the Urartian ''wur'', rarther than being a metathesis for Iranic ''negar'')
Hurrian: halv- (enclose) Kurdish: hal- هاڵ (enclose)
Urartian: kul-me (wealth, prosperity) Kurdish: kel-k کەڵک (profitable, usefulness)
Hurrian: pâl (false) Kurdish: fêl فێڵ (fraud)
Hurrian: tapsh- (destroy) Kurdish: tawjm تەوژم (pressure), tapi (destroy)
Hurrian: apxe (louse) Kurdish: aspe ئەسپێ (louse)
130) Hurrian: kapp- (fill) Kurdish: kipp کپ (filled)
Hurrian: azhoge (meal) Kurdish: azhge/zig (stomach)
Hurrian: kul- (to speak) Kurdish: qul- قوول (to speak aloud)
Hurrian: timeri (black) Kurdish: tem تەم (darkness)
Urartian: tara-gie (powerful, strong) Kurdish: daraqat دەرەقەت (to be powerful, to be strong)
Urartian: tam-hu (eliminate separate) Kurdish: toq-[andin] Urartian: shi-u (carry away) Kurdish: shi-[andin] (send)
Urartian: anda-ni (right) Kurdish: and ئاند (right)
Urartian: irb-u (take away grab) Kurdish: rev-[andin]/rif-[andin] (take away, grab) (but cf. also Iranian 'robudan', take away, grab)
Urartian: pit- (beat apart, destroy) Kurdish: pis-/pichr- (beat apart, destroy)
140) Urartian: tishni (heart) Kurdish: dine دنە (encourage) (cf. t > d & sh > nil)
Urartian: ti-ni (name) Kurdish: deng دەنگ (voice)
Urartian: bauše (word) Kurdish: wuše وشە (word)
Urartian: durba (revolt, rebel) Kurdish: tola (revenge)
Urartian: hut-ia (to ask) Kurdish: qut-abî (student)
Hurrian: fir (remove, untie) Kurdish: fir, firê (throw)
Hurrian: halme (singing) Kurdish: hore هۆرە (singing)
Hurrian: havur (heaven) Kurdish: hawr (cloud), (note also Indo-Iranic abra)
Urartian: agu (lead away) (of IE origin?) Kurdish: ajo-[tin] ئاژۆتن (lead away, drive)
Hurrian: asti (woman) Kurdish: astê (name of a beloved woman in Kurdish folklore)
150) Hurrian: tav/(-b) (to cast metal) Kurdish: taw (thaw, melt)
Hurrian: ai (if) Kurdish: ai (if)
Hurrian: alilan (lament) Kurdish: lalan (lament)
Hurrian: çabalgi (fault) Kurdish: çapal چەپەڵ (dirty)
Hurrian: xiyari (all) Kurdish: xir (all)
Hurrian: çere (donkey) Kurdish: ker (donkey)
Hurrian: çik- (break) Kurdish: shik- (break)
Hurrian: xîri (hour, time, moment) Kurdish: xêra خێرا (soon, hurry)
Hurrian: xizli (coiled) Kurdish: cexiz جەخز(coiled)
Hurrian: xub- (to break, to destroy) Kurdish: qup- (to break, to destroy)
160) Hurrian: istani (between, among) Kurdish: astang ئاستەنگ (obstacle)
Hurrian: izikun- (to wail) Kurdish: zikan- (to wail)
Hurrian: kakari (sort of ritual bread) Kurdish: kullêre, kellane (sort of ritual bread)
Hurrian: magunni (desire) Kurdish: magirani (desire)
‌Hurrian: shakari or sagari (sprout, bud) Kurdish: chakara چەکەرە (sprout, bud)
Hurrian: arushal (hurry) Kurdish: halasha هەڵەشە (stressful)
Hurrian: heni (now) Kurdish: henu-ke, niha, neha (now)
Hurrian: parili (crime) Kurdish: palamar پەلامار (attack)
Hurrian: adi (thus) Kurdish: dai (thus)
Hurrian: ak-i/u (other) Kurdish: -ka (other)
170) Hurrian: we (thou) Kurdish: ê-we (you)
Hurrian: buru (strong) Kurdish: wure ورە (strength)
Hurrian: çam (rip) Kurdish çam (bend)
Hurrian: zurgi (blood) Kurdish: zûx (blood), (compare, xwênaw=zûxaw)
Hurrian: xahli (cheek) Kurdish: kulm (cheek)
Hurrian: halwu (fence made with stones) Kurdish: hêl هێڵ (fence)
Hurrian: xawirni (lamb) Kurdish kawir کاوڕ (young sheep)
Hurrian: xamaz- (oppress) Kurdish chaws- (oppress)
Hurrian: hendz (constrain) Kurdish: hêndj (constrain)
Hurrian: xerari (sinew) Kurdish: kiroje (sinew)
180) Hurrian: xeshmi (bright) Kurdish: gesh (bright)
Hurrian: kalgi (weak) Kurdish qals/qirj (weak)
Hurrian: nali (deer) Kurdish: nêrî (male adult goat)
Hurrian: nawn- (pasture) Kurdish: naw- (pasture)
Hurrian: ul- (to, eat, to devour) Kurdish: lawar( la-war-) (to devour)
Hurrian: ubi (stupid, insane) Kurdish: hapa (stupid, insane)
Hurrian: ashxu (high) Kurdish: shax (mountain), also 'asê' means: uppward, high.
Hurrian: kaziari (high mountains of the Mesopotamian valley) Kurdish: kazh (high mountain)
Hurrian: kewiranna (the senate, the old men) Kurdish: gewran (the big ones, the adult ones)
Hurrian: kuzh- (to keep, to retain) Kurdish: kush- (to hold in hands, to press in hands), alt: Kurdish qoz- (to catch)
190) Hurrian: nekri ( Hurrian: shalhi (to listen) Kurdish: shil (listen)
Hurrian: siba (dry) Kurdish: zuwa زوا (dry)
Urartian: dibi (building, room) Kurdish: diw دیو (room)
Hurrian: shu (day) Kurdish: shawa-ki (morning, day)
Hurrian: shirat (narrate) Kurdish: shirove (narrate)
Hurrian: tishan (very much) Kurdish: tizha تژە (full)
Urartian: sutug (tear away, unjoin) Kurdish: shetek (knot)
Urartian: gey (anything) Kurdish gi گ (anything)
Hurrian: baz (enter) Kurdish: baz (pass by)
200) Hurrian: xeban-: (to set moving) Kurdish: xebi- خەبتین (to be active)
Hurrian: hamadz-: (to oppress) Kurdish: chaws- (to oppress)
Hurrian: haz- (to hear) Kurdish: bihiz-: (to hear)
Hurrian: xaz (to oil) Kurdish: xiz (oily, slippery)
Hurrian: pas- (to send somebody) Kurdish: pas- (to send, as in 'hal pasardin': 'to send into exile')
‌Hurrian: shagari (ram) Kurdish: shak (young sheep)
Hurrian: pal (know, understand) Kurdish: fêr (learn)
Urartian: -kai (position, in place) Kurdish: -ka (location suffix)
Urartian: muš- (true, fair) Kurdish: mušur موشوور (fairness)
Hurrian: abi (in front of) Kurdish: ba (in front of, near)
210) Hurrian: shimi (sun) Kurdish: shem (sun) (focilized in shemshemekwere, ''blind for the sun'': ''bat''.
Urartian: derzu/derju (order, arrangement) Kurdish: darêj- (order, arrangement)
Urartian: tep- (throw down) Kurdish: tep- (throw down)
Urartian: atqan: (to consecrate) Kurdish: tarxân (to consecrate)
Urartian: shuki (as) Kurdish: waki < hoki Hurrian: hur (drink) Urartian: xurishe (irrigator) Kurdish: qurishke قوریشکە (cup)
Urartian: ulx (flow out) Kurdish: bilqبڵق (b Urartian: alga-ni (mountain) Kurdish: Lêj لێژ (abrupt, steep)
Urartian: auiei (somewher) Kurdish: awê ئەوێ (there)
Urartian: puluse (inscription, stele) Kurdish: psule (voucher, receipt)
220) Urartian: niribe (herd) Kurdish: ran (herd)
Urartian: iese/ieshe? (I, pronoun) Kurdish: ez ئەز (I, resembles also the old Iranian 'azm', but which one is 'az' actually derives of? Armenians claim Armenian 'yes' (I) is derived of Ur. 'iese
Urartian: armuzi (family, clan, generation) Kurdish: hoz هۆز (clan) + rama (seed, from to-rama)
Hurrian: hemz (surround) Kurdish: amêz, hembêz ئامیز (hug)
Urartian: zani (cry out) Kurdish: zhan, jan, ژان (agony)
Hurrian: karshi (lips) Kurdish: kalpa کەڵپە (animal lips)
Hurrian: wirwir (loosen) Kurdish: wilwil ولوڵ (loosen)
Kassite: ash (earth, soil) Hurrian: esh (earth, soil) Kurdish: ax ئاخ (earth, soil)
Urartian: qarmexî (gift, present, sacrifice, celebration) Kurdish: qelin قەلین (gift, dowry)
Urartian: -atuhi (-ness) Kurdish: -ati (-ness)
230) Urartian: aman- (vessel, pot) Kurdish: aman- ئامان (vessel, pot)
God of lightning and storm Hurrian: Teshup Urartian: Tesheba Kassite: Tishpak Kurdish: Tishk تیشک (light, radiance)
Hurrian: shu (hand) Kurdish: shop (hand palm)
Hurrian: chilman- (to break, vanish) Kurdish: chilmis- (fade)
Urartian: shur (wall around a castle, fence, borders of the kingdom) Kurdish: shure (wall around a castle, fence)
Hurrian: xalwu (fence made with stones) Kurdish: xal خەڵ (fence made with stones)
Hurrian: ya/ye (who, which, what) Kurdish: ya/ye (who, which, what)
Hurrian: tun- (to win) Kurdish: tuna توونا (defeated, destroyed)
Hurrian: taridi (pot) Kurdish: tirar (pot)
Hurrian: kol (let off) Kurdish: kol (let off) (as in ''le kol bunewe'')
240) Hurrian:shir (to be suffiecent) Kurdish: têr (to be suffiecent)
Hurrian: ha (take) Kurdish: ha
Hurrian: tijari (spindle) Kurdish: teshi (spindle)
Hurrian: ábri (stock of wood-logs) Kurdish: awirdu (stock of wood-logs), awirig (oven)
Hurrian: baq- (destroy) Kurdish: baq- بەقین (explode)
Hurrian: bashi (mouth)Armenianlake Urmia Kurdish: bêj (to say), (common a>ê)
Hurrian: pashixi (message) Kurdish: pazhux (answer)
Hurrian: tad- (love) Kurdish: dalal (beloved) (common d>l)
Hurrian: tagi (beatiful) Urartian: taugi (clean) Kurdish: daq دەق (cheerful)
Hurrian: hild-/held- (high, raise, elevate) Kurdish: hild-/held- هەڵدان/هڵدان (rasie, elevate)
250) ‌Hurrian: kabli (copper) Kurdish: paqir پاقڕ (copper)
Kassite: kukla (slave) Kurdish: kukla (doll), kukm (homeless)
Hurrian: kumdi (tower) Kurdish: kumadj کۆماج (column)
Hurrian: kubakhi (hood) Kurdish: kumik (hood)
Urartian: korde (uncultivated, desolate) Kurdish: kode (uncultivated, desolate)
Hurrian: kundzi (to kneel) Kurdish: kudik (knee)
Hurrian: Xiríti (trench) Kurdish: Xir (trench)

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Have you heard of Pepper Dulse - it’s a delicious seaweed! #foraging #forage #forager - Úna-Minh Kavanagh
Maróg Anlann Taifí & Sceallóga Imeall TG4 - Ciara Ní É
Ciara Ní É RTÉ The Irish for Sex with Bláithín de Búrca - Ciara Ní É
When to use THE GENITIVE CASE in IRISH! An Tuiseal Ginideach sa Ghaeilge 💚 - Gaeilge i mo chroí

Podchraoltaí 🎙️

Tá tú ACTUALLY deas! Seansálaithe #106 - Seansálaithe
Kendrake: Mairteoil an Cheoil - shows.acast.com
Splanc Nuacht: Pubaill, Portals agus léirsithe na Palaistíne - Splanc
Splanc Spóirt: Céard a dhéanfaidh Cúige Laighean difriúil i mbliana? - Splanc
Anailís Albaim: 'Come on Over' le Shania Twain - Splanc
Mínithe: Céard atá ag tarlú in Rafah? - Splanc
Oisín Mac Eó - Seán Ó Dubhchon
Marcas Ó Murchú - Seán Ó Dubhchon
Fódhla Ní Chéileachair - Seán Ó Dubhchon
Gráinne Ní Ghréacháin - Seán Ó Dubhchon
Aingeal Ní Chualáin - Seán Ó Dubhchon

Blaganna 🖋️

k. 255 Feall sna Focail - ancroiait
Cuimhnigh ar Dhoire! - aonghus
Oppenheimer - aonghus
Coquí - aonghus
haiku - aonghus
San Institiúit Teicneolaíochta, California * - aonghus
Na Sioux - aonghus
issa - aonghus

Nuacht 📰

‘Peacach’ le IMLÉ ina amhrán aitheantais don chlár úr BODKIN - NÓS
Déanann lucht an tsnagcheoil an bád a luascadh ar Shráid Shipquay, Doire - Jack Mac Íomhair
Coláiste na Tríonóide le dífheistiú a dhéanamh ó Iosrael de bharr agóidí BDS - Conor Torbóid
Pádraig Mac Piarais agus stair chomhroinnte na Fiannaíochta - Dubhán Ó Longáin
Déanfar dochar mór mura bpléann polaiteoirí cúrsaí inimirce go macánta - Cathal Mac Coille
Cuid de sprid na bliana 1999 ag teastáil ó Ard Mhacha in aghaidh Dhún na nGall - Dara Ó Cinnéide
Déanfaidh mímhuinín dochar mór mura bpléann polaiteoirí cúrsaí inimirce go macánta - Tuairisc
Lig don léitheoir obair na léitheoireachta a dhéanamh é féin - Alex Hijmans
Dúshlán damanta roimh Chúige Chonnacht i gcoinne na Muimhneach i Luimneach - Eoghan Ó Neachtain
Satharn na cinniúna cois Laoi d’iománaithe Chorcaí - John Allen
FÍSEÁN: Ar fhaitíos gur chaill tú é… cuid de scéalta na seachtaine seo ar Tuairisc - Tuairisc.ie
Brú le cur ar Pharlaimint na hEorpa deireadh a chur le cinneadh gan seirbhísí Gaeilge a chinntiú - Pádraic Ó Ciardha
Gailearaí: Seoladh Céad Míle Fáilte - caolan@cnag.ie (Caolán
Gailearaí: Lá Mór na Gaeilge 2024 - caolan@cnag.ie (Caolán
Ceiliúradh Teanga agus Cultúir i mBaile Átha Cliath do Lá Mór na Gaeilge 2024 - caolan@cnag.ie (Caolán
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Gradaim bronnta ar Mhic Léinn Tríú Leibhéal ag Searmanas Gníomhaí Gaeilge - caolan@cnag.ie (Caolán
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Ordú faighte ag áitritheoirí imeacht as oirthear Rafah - rte.ie
Bua suntasach ag an bPalaistín sna Náisiúin Aontaithe - rte.ie
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30 puball eile curtha suas le taobh na Canálach Móire - rte.ie
Iosraelaigh 'réidh le troid lena n-ingne' – Netanyahu - rte.ie
'Ganntanas tithíochta ag cur as d'iomaíochas an gheilleagair' - rte.ie
Pubaill curtha as an tslí, lóistín tugtha d'iarrthóirí tearmainn - rte.ie
30,000 iarrthóir tearmainn idirnáisiúnta sa Stát – figiúirí nua - rte.ie
Coimisinéir Teanga sásta faoin méadú ar fhógraíocht i nGaeilge - rte.ie
'Plean soiléir' ag Éirinn an Phalaistín a aithint mar stát - rte.ie
Imní faoi líon mór dabhach séarachais atá lochtach - rte.ie
Fear sna fichidí maraithe i dtionóisc bhóthair i gCo Mhuineacháin - rte.ie
Tuilleadh puball curtha suas le hais na Canálach Móire - rte.ie
Leanbh óg maraithe i dtubaiste bóthair i gCo an Chláir - rte.ie
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Triúr a gabhadh maidir le dúnmharú Josh Itseli scaoilte saor - rte.ie
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Easpa foirne in ospidéil idir chamáin ag comhdháil altraí - rte.ie
Vacsaín Covid-19 tarraingthe siar ag AstraZeneca - rte.ie
Cuntais Bhabhtála RTÉ "faoi cheilt os comhair cách" - rte.ie
Uisce lofa Chathair Chorcaí le cóiriú - rte.ie
Triúr fós á gceistiú faoi mharú "in achrann buíonta coiriúila" - rte.ie
Príosúin saoil ar mharú deirfiúracha agus deartháir - rte.ie
Imní ar lucht foraoise i gCo an Chláir faoi chiaróg aduain - rte.ie
16,000 gearán faoi bhóithre lochtacha - rte.ie
Cuislí fóirthinte Ghaza "tachta ag Iosrael" - Náisiúin Aontaithe - rte.ie
Iosrael "ag diúltú" do shos cogadh le Hamas - rte.ie
John Swinney ceannasaí úr Náisiúnaigh na hAlban - rte.ie
Triúr gafa faoi ógfhear atá maraithe in ionsaí gunna i mBÁC - rte.ie
Súil le breis lóistín do lucht lorgtha tearmainn - rte.ie
Os cionn 400 páirteach i rás bóthair Inis 'Iron' Meáin - rte.ie
Sandie Jones 'Ceol an Ghrá' Eurovision 1972 - rte.ie
Doire v Aontroim - Craobh Shinsir Chamógaíochta Uladh - rte.ie
Filleadh as Féile na Bealtaine - i mo bheatha - rte.ie
Scéala an othair 'Niamh' ar Adhmhaidin RnaG - rte.ie
Bonfires and revelry: Midsummer in Irish Folklore - rte.ie
Eispéireas ar leith d'Iris Aniar - rte.ie
Night Dances le Emma Martin United Fall - rte.ie
Creidim Ionat - Spórt, Spraoi agus Imeachtaí! - rte.ie
Mo Chuid Rincí Gaelacha le Emer Ní Scolaí - rte.ie
GaelGoer: A free Irish app boosting language and community - rte.ie
52 Proverbs to Fight Depression and Trauma - rte.ie
IMRAM - An Drúchtín agus An Seilide, ceardlann do dhaoine óga - rte.ie
Creidim Ionat - Cór As Béal a Chéile agus Ukrainian Action Choir - rte.ie
Ar fhaitíos gur chaill tú é… cuid de scéalta na seachtaine seo ar Tuairisc - Tuairisc
Ribíní crochta ag daltaí Gaeltachta do na páistí go léir a maraíodh in Gaza - Tuairisc
Ar fhaitíos gur chaill tú é… cuid de scéalta na seachtaine seo ar Tuairisc - Tuairisc
Tomas Byrne sa Dáil - Tuairisc
Le gaélique, so chic ! - Tuairisc
Ar fhaitíos gur chaill tú é… cuid de scéalta na seachtaine seo ar Tuairisc - Tuairisc
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Gaeil Ar Son Gaza - Tuairisc
Thomas Byrne 03 - Tuairisc
Micheál Martin 242003 - Tuairisc
Ar fhaitíos gur chaill tú é… cuid de scéalta na seachtaine seo ar Tuairisc - Tuairisc
Fionnán Ó Coisdealbha - Tuairisc
AI - Tuairisc
Féile Scoil Drámaíochta - Tuairisc
GAA BEO Luimneach v Port Láirge Craobh Iomána oneills.com Fé 20 - Craobh na Mumhan - Babhta 5 - Spórt TG4
GAA Beo Luimneach v Tiobraid Árann Craobh Iomána Mionúr Electric Ireland - Spórt TG4
GAA BEO Corcaigh v An Clár Craobh Iomána Mionúr Electric Ireland - Spórt TG4
GAA BEO Áth Cliath v Loch Garman Craobh Iomána oneills.com Fé 20 - Spórt TG4
GAA BEO Uibh Fhailí v Laois Craobh Iomána oneills.com Fé 20 - Spórt TG4
Ciarraí v Corcaigh 30/04 Craobh Peile Mhionúir GAA 2024 - Spórt TG4
Ciarraí v Corcaigh 01/05 Craobh Peile Fé GAA 2024 - Spórt TG4
Peil na mBan Beo Gaillimh v Maigh Eo Craobh TG4 - Cluiche Ceannais Chonnacht - Spórt TG4
Gaillimh v Ros Comáin 04/05 Craobh Peile Fé 20 GAA 2024 - Spórt TG4
Peil na mBan Beo An Mhí v Áth Cliath Craobh TG4 - Cluiche Ceannais Laighean - Spórt TG4
Tír Eoghain v Doire 01/05 Craobh Peile Fé 20 GAA 2024 - Spórt TG4
Áth Cliath v Loch Garman 01/05 Craobh Peile Mhionúir GAA 2024 - Spórt TG4
Tiobraid Árann v Corcaigh 03/05 Craobh Iomána Fé 20 GAA 2024 - Spórt TG4
Tiobraid Árann v An Clár 02/05 Craobh Iomána Mhionúir GAA 2024 - Spórt TG4
GAA BEO Cill Dara v Áth Cliath Craobh Peile Mionúr Electric ireland - Spórt TG4
AR IARRAIDH - The disappearance of Esra Uyrun 15/5 @ 21:30 TG4 - TG4
Aindriú & The 2 Johnnies Creidim Ionat - Foras na Gaeilge
An Bóthar Romhainn Amach - An Plean Digiteach don Ghaeilge - Údarás na Gaeltachta
An bhfuil rudaí ar iarraidh ón liosta seo? Inis dom!

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", "status": true, "app_version": "f09dae02382565da0201fdab1031584a", "sponsored_detail": { "kind": "sponsored", "market": 0, "created_at": "2024-03-25T14:44:20.074467+00:00", "domain": "stake.com", "url": "https://stake.com/?tab=register&modal=auth&offer=cpan200txtbon&c=cpanictxtad", "slug": "200-Bonus-at-Stake-Worlds-leading-Crypto-Casino-Sportsbook-Best-VIP-Club-75K-Weekly-Raffles-Instant-Withdrawals-Exclusive-Sports-promos-on-UFC-Soccer-F1-Cricket-more", "title": "200% Bonus at Stake - World's leading Crypto Casino & Sportsbook. Best VIP Club, 75K Weekly Raffles, Instant Withdrawals, Exclusive Sports promos on UFC, Soccer, F1, Cricket & more.", "body": "", "published_at": "2024-03-25T14:43:31+00:00", "source": { "domain": "stake.com" }, "remote_id": null, "ad": { "ad_name": "Stake", "ad_class": null, "ends_at": "2024-04-24T23:59:00", "extra_data": "{\"meta\":{\"imageUrl\":\"\",\"rel\":\"nofollow\",\"textColor\":\"\"}}", "code": "news_detail" }, "_type": "post", "pk": 19354017, "active_votes": {}, "tags": [ 48 ] }, "ad_navigation": { "kind": "sponsored", "market": 0, "created_at": "2024-03-25T13:35:47.816583+00:00", "domain": "stake.com", "url": "https://stake.com/?tab=register&modal=auth&offer=cpan200disbanbon&c=cpanicbanads", "slug": "Stake-NAIGATION-AD", "title": "Stake NAIGATION AD", "body": "200% Bonus At Stake 🔥", "published_at": "2024-03-25T13:32:04+00:00", "source": { "domain": "stake.com" }, "remote_id": null, "ad": { "ad_name": "Stake", "ad_class": null, "ends_at": "2024-04-24T23:59:00", "extra_data": "{\"meta\":{\"imageUrl\":\"https:\\/\\/static.cryptopanic.com\\/static\\/img\\/ad\\/stake\\/stake.png\",\"rel\":\"nofollow\",\"textColor\":\"#FF9D00\"}}", "code": "navigation" }, "_type": "post", "pk": 19353792, "active_votes": {}, "tags": [ 51 ] }, "ad_feed_top": { "kind": "sponsored", "market": 0, "created_at": "2024-03-25T13:23:58.575468+00:00", "domain": "gmlnk.com", "url": "https://stake.com/?tab=register&modal=auth&offer=cpan200disbanbon&c=cpanicbanads", "slug": "Stake-TOP-FEED-AD", "title": "Stake TOP FEED AD", "body": "200% Bonus at Stake 🔥🚀: Instant Withdrawals, 100K Daily Giveaways, 20+ Crypto, Unparalleled VIP experience, Weekly & Monthly Bonus", "published_at": "2024-03-25T13:13:25+00:00", "source": { "domain": "gmlnk.com" }, "remote_id": null, "ad": { "ad_name": "Stake", "ad_class": null, "ends_at": "2024-04-24T23:59:00", "extra_data": "{\"meta\":{\"imageUrl\":\"https:\\/\\/static.cryptopanic.com\\/static\\/img\\/ad\\/stake\\/stake.png\",\"rel\":\"nofollow\",\"textColor\":\"#FF9D00\"}}", "code": "top_feed" }, "_type": "post", "pk": 19353749, "active_votes": {}, "tags": [ 53 ] }, "ad_home": { "kind": "sponsored", "market": 0, "created_at": "2024-03-25T14:35:53.683945+00:00", "domain": "stake.com", "url": "https://stake.com/?tab=register&modal=auth&offer=cpan200disbanbon&c=cpanicbanads", "slug": "Stake-HOME-AD", "title": "Stake HOME AD", "body": "Join Drake At Stake for 200% Bonus 🔥🚀- Proud sponsors of Everton FC, Stake F1 team & UFC. Instant Withdrawals, Daily 100K giveaways, 3000+ slots, Live Casino games, Daily & Weekly Bonuses", "published_at": "2024-03-25T14:35:47+00:00", "source": { "domain": "stake.com" }, "remote_id": null, "ad": { "ad_name": "Stake", "ad_class": null, "ends_at": "2024-04-26T23:59:00", "extra_data": "{\"meta\":{\"imageUrl\":\"\",\"rel\":\"nofollow\",\"textColor\":\"#FF9D00\"}}", "code": "home" }, "_type": "post", "pk": 19354000, "active_votes": {}, "tags": [ 52 ] }, "currencies": { ... }, "portfolio": { "total_usd": "0.00", "total_local": "0.00", "portfolio_currency": null } } Found it on this website on the /posts endpoint.
NOTICE the "s" field in the response. It seems to contain encrypted/encoded data
Questions - First of all, is this encoded and encrypted? - Is it common to encrypt your JSON response? - What does an express middleware for this look like? - Isnt the secret key stored on the client somehow?

{ "filters": { "search": null }, "s": 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Instant Withdrawals, Daily 100K giveaways, 3000+ slots, Live Casino games, Daily & Weekly Bonuses", "published_at": "2024-03-25T14:35:47+00:00", "source": { "domain": "stake.com" }, "remote_id": null, "ad": { "ad_name": "Stake", "ad_class": null, "ends_at": "2024-04-26T23:59:00", "extra_data": "{\"meta\":{\"imageUrl\":\"\",\"rel\":\"nofollow\",\"textColor\":\"#FF9D00\"}}", "code": "home" }, "_type": "post", "pk": 19354000, "active_votes": {}, "tags": [ 52 ] }, "currencies": { ... }, "portfolio": { "total_usd": "0.00", "total_local": "0.00", "portfolio_currency": null } } Found it on this website on the /posts endpoint. How do I determine what encoding or encryption is being used?

🎶 It is my destiny 🎶
With Rebellion being a week away, it’s once again time to cross the line, as it’s time for TNA IMPACT! in the historic 2300 Arena in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania!!

Want to catch up with the storylines in TNA? Here’s the official preview for tonight’s show!

Matches announced for tonight:

Match	Stipulation
Moose vs. Trent Seven	Singles match
PCO vs. Kon	Monster’s Ball match
Crazzy Steve (c) vs. Laredo Kid	Singles match for the TNA Digital Media Championship
ABC (Ace Austin and Chris Bey) vs. First Class (AJ Francis and Rich Swann	Tag team match

Segments announced for tonight:
•Jordynne Grace and Steph De Lander sign the contract for the TNA Knockouts World Title match at Rebellion
Ways to Watch:
Online:

• TNA Insiders on YouTube: Available worldwide for only $1 a month, starts at 8:30 EST, commercial free!
• TNA+: $9.99 a month, airs at 10pm EST, immediately after it airs on AXS TV!
• DAZN: in the United Kingdom, Ireland, and other select countries, available a day after airing!

Television:

• USA: Thursdays 8pm ET on AXS TV
• Canada: Thursdays 8pm ET on Fight Network, Saturdays 7pm ET on GameTV
• UK: Fridays 22:15 GMT on DAZN On Sky

—
LINKS:

• TNA Wrestling Subreddit: /TNA
• TNA Wrestling’s Official YouTube Channel
• TNA Wrestling's Official Shop
• TNA Wrestling's Official Events Page with Card and Ticket Info

Thanks for anyone who can give me some advice! This is my 3rd season playing PoE and I'm having a great time. I finally feel like I'm learning how to dig deeper into builds and push my character farther than before. However, I've noticed that when I compare by Path of Building character to the ones in the guides I follow, my damage stats are wayyyy behind despite having what I think is pretty great gear. I noticed yesterday evening that I had made a major talent mistake (I kept precise technique after swapping to crit stuff) that helped a bit, but things seem to still be quite off. I feel like I'm making another one or two small but impactful oversights that I just can't seem to spot.
If anyone has some experience with the build and had a couple spare minutes to look over what I'm working with to offer some advice, I'd be supremely grateful!
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

I - II - III - IV - V
We flew to Germany. Tickets were expensive.
—
I met Becca’s family. They were wonderful.
—
After months of waiting, dozens of nights of watching 90’s shows, listening to new “best of” playlists and scrolling through my phone, the moment had finally come.
It was our thirteenth night in Berlin, and I told Becca that I was going to a club famous for its EDM raves, (she knew I had an appreciation for German techno). Although Becca was not a huge fan herself, she told me to have fun, and that we would catch up later that same night. She would go to a bar with one of her cousins.
In truth, of course, I was going to the Friedrichstadt-Palast. A large, pretty famous theater in central Berlin that could accommodate up to 1,800 spectators. The throngs outside curled for over two blocks, but people in line told me not to worry: “das ist normal.”
Tickets weren’t cheap. The equivalent of a hundred Canadian or so. It was a near sold out screening because apparently—the film was supposed to be good.
I was curious from a typical filmgoer’s perspective whether or not the movie would be to my taste at all. Was it even possible for me to like it? Can I really enjoy something that has been responsible for so much trauma?
By some miracle, my seat was on the floor and not on a balcony. I sat in the west wing surrounded by an odd mix of audience. Half were the expected critics, cinephiles and Berliner upper crust all wearing their sophisticated evening attire, but the other half were … strange. It's like they’re expecting some kind of heavy metal concert. They were wearing all leather, latex and lots of clothespins. Several have pentagrams inscribed on their clothing. I recognized plenty of the expected band shirts. Black Sabbath. Slayer. Behemoth.
A tanned, cheerful presenter went up and explained that he was very proud to present this “exquisite gem” of a film to Europe for the first time, and that the filmmaker was in the audience with us tonight. There would be a Q & A after the screening.
I took a quick scan of the crowds to see if I could recognize somebody, but the audience was too massive. A flesh colored soup in every direction.
Soon the lights went down, the projector turned on, and several sponsors were briefly flashed on screen. Armani. Uber. Mastercard. Something called ZDF, Potsdamer Platz and RBB Media.
Then the movie started.
—
The opening scene is loud. It’s a festive night outdoors with lots of candles, lanterns, instruments and plenty of characters eating meat off skewers. It had to be set in the early 1900s, 1800s, or maybe 1700s? (I don’t know my medieval times). We’re introduced to a bride on the eve of her own wedding. I realize she looks identical to Polina.
A skewer goes through my stomach.
I’m mentally bombarded with images from that set three years ago. I see Polina getting wet from our march in the woods, I see her moaning under the twisted oak tree. Then I see her looking mangled and despondent after repurposing Kon’s dead body.
This actress on screen is Polina. No one realizes we are watching a ghost with a stolen body on screen. A wraith in cold flesh.
I exhale the thought. Squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s just a movie. Just pretend it’s a movie. That’s all you're here to see.
After a few moments I pry my eyes open, and do my best to forget. I try to get carried away by the movie’s plot. And to my surprise, I do.
Very quickly we learn that Polina is to be betrothed to a sharp, brutal man. It's someone she clearly does not want to marry. In the last hour of freedom (before she is expected at the altar), the camera follows Polina as she wanders away from the party towards a small pond, seeking solace in the night.
In subtitles we see Polina speak to herself. Pity herself. She looks into her reflection in the pond and says, “I would rather marry a pig than that awful oaf.” The water warbles a bit, buffeted by wind.
As luck would have it. Her husband-to-be chokes at the dinner banquet—on one of the meat skewers. There’s a scene where multiple people attempt a primitive Heimlich maneuver to no avail. The groom’s family ends up in tears, and the priest calls the wedding off. But despite everything, Polina’s folks still get to keep her wedding gifts as compensation. Including a large black swine.
The wedding guests leave despondent or drunk, or some mix of both, while Polina on the other hand, is secretly euphoric. It's the closest I had ever seen her to revealing a smile.
That night she visits the swine by herself at the pigsty. She is so relieved that she goes to thank the animal. Much to her surprise, it begins to talk.
“I’m your new husband.”
Polina is of course scared. Confused. “You’re my new husband?”
“Yes. Your wish has been granted, and you must treat me like your husband. If you betray this gift, your soul is forfeit.”
Polina’s pupils widen, she covers her mouth. Through narration we learn that animals could only speak back then if they had been imbued with the Devil’s magic. Although terrified, Polina reluctantly agrees to visit and feed the pig each night.
Through title cards, we learn a week has passed. Polina appears just in time to calm down a raucous swine. The pig is aggressively headbutting the fence of the pigsty
“Why are you treating me like an animal? Am I not your husband? Should I not be wearing your husband's clothes?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so the following night, we watch her walk up to her town’s small cemetery and dig up her fiancee's grave. The burial soil was not very deep (because the region is mountainous), it is dug up in a quick montage. Her betrothed had been buried in the finest suit he owned, and in between worried stares, Polina removes it piece by piece.
In the morning, Polina’s youngest brother wakes up the family with laughter. “The pig has found a suit! The pig has found a suit!”
It’s a laugh riot. The family assumes that someone in the village is playing a very funny joke. Maybe the neighbor’s teenage son? Everyone is surprisingly accepting of the pig’s new clothes, and no one draws the connection to Polina’s dead husband-to-be.
Polina pretends to find it amusing too, and says she would like her gift-pig to remain this way. Everyone is instructed not to undress the pig. And so no one does. The clothes are too filthy to touch anyway.
On Polina’s next nightly visit, the swine has a new demand.
“So you’ve dressed me like your husband. That much is true. But how come I must eat my dinner out here, out of a trough? While the rest of your family eats inside?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. So the following night, she invites the pig inside. “He gets along well with the children,” Polina explains.
Although the children are not overly ecstatic, they do indeed play with the pig, offering it some of their dinner. With a certain measure of reluctance, the family accepts this novelty, at least for the night.
But the following morning, the swine still demands more.
“How come after dinner, I am led back into this pen, and not to a bed? How come I am not permitted to share a bed with my wife?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so, after sneaking the pig more of their dinner the next evening, she waits until everyone else goes to the communal bedroom, and then she leads the pig into her own bed in the living room.
She leads the pig first onto the straw bed. He practically occupies the whole thing.
“Now lay with me.” The swine says.
Teeth clenched and shoulders raised, Polina slides onto the small patch of sheet that’s still accessible. Her ankles are seen colliding with the pig’s hooves. She shifts to lay as distantly as possible, but the pig squirms closer.
“Wrap an arm around me.”
Polina begins attempting this, and abruptly stops. She is simply too disgusted to continue. She rolls off the bed.
“A wife must lay with her husband,” The pig says.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“You will. Or your soul is mine.”
Without much choice, she lays back down, facing the pig. With all the willpower she can muster, Polina raises an arm and wraps it around the pig’s head, as if she were coddling a child. Or a lover.
“Now kiss me.”
The pig opens his large gaping maw. A glistening, pink tongue flaps out, searching for interaction. There is still some rotting food in the back of the pig’s molars.
At this point, I pull my head back and look around the audience, swapping petrified expressions with the middle aged Berliners seated around me. No amount of special effects in the world can fake what is being shown on-screen right now.
It is indisputably a live-action animal pig with a live-action actress.
They are about to kiss.
Are they actually going to?
They do.
I hear reflexive gagging, and mutters from the audience.
“Mein Gott … ”
“Widerlich.”
“It must be fake … ”
But it’s not. I can only muster about two seconds of willpower to watch this pig lick a human’s mouth like an over-excited dog.
Polina screams and brushes the pig aside. It squeals loudly, rolling in the bed.
“Kiss me! KISS ME!”
When I look back at the screen, Polina’s father emerges from the bedroom, eyes wide with shock. “The Devil has my daughter!”
The pig shrieks around on the bed, flopping and flailing like any real life animal would.
We see the father grab an ax, lift it, and then the film cuts to black.
Fade in: it's the next day. The pig lies headless on a large wooden plank, while Polina’s mother cooks its haunches over a fire. There is yelling and stomping, the camera pans over to the father who points and spits at his daughter. Polina is curled in a corner, sobbing.
She is banished to the forest. If she is ever caught close to the house again, her father will have no choice but to kill her. He will not risk spreading her evil to the rest of the family.
With nothing but her gray dress and a small sack of food, Polina treads away and into the dark, foreboding woods, forbidden from even looking back at her home.
The camera glides behind her as she stumbles through the branches. Polina moves awkwardly across deepening areas of peat and mud, before she realizes what’s underfoot, she trips into a bog. Polina sinks down to her waist, struggling tragically and inefficiently. She sinks down to her neck, and calls for help as loud as she can. Within a matter of seconds … she chokes. We see bubbles. Fingertips. Polina drowns. Another cut to black.
When we return, Polina wakes up beside a large oak tree. The very same tree I climbed in four years ago. I feel goosebumps like I’ve never felt before. I am frozen in my seat.
“Am I alive?” The subtitles hold on the screen. The actress has now changed, she is gaunter, paler. She looks like Polina did on the day I first met her. She turns to the camera, and asks the audience the same question. “Czy ja żyję? Czy ja żyję?”
“Am I alive?”
“No you are not.” The pig’s voice returns. “You have broken your promise. You have killed me like a common swine.”
Polina takes a step back and circles around the tree in reverse, searching for the source of the voice. “I didn’t mean to!” She yells.
“Your soul is forfeit. It is mine.”
Polina takes her hands in her head. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!” Something invisible pushes her over, attacks her. She tries to shove it away but it's too strong.
There’s squealing. Screaming.
This is the sound I recorded. This is what we shot beneath that tree. What happened was real.
“And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.”
Something invisible takes a bite of Polina’s shoulder, she wails and falls to the ground.
Then the film abruptly cuts to action shots of her escaping. She is terrified. Running wounded through the forest. The camera is jumpy and chaotic. I soon recognize this segment as the POV shots that Olek took as he ran through the woods on his own. A fern branch brushes past the lens.
I feel a panic attack coming on. I can’t be here. I can’t be in this theater. I get up, and attempt to squeeze by the patrons, but I can’t get past. The film is too loud and the other patrons are literally too glued to the screen to even notice me.
I plonk back down and recognize the cabin. The old lodge cabin we had visited that day. It’s wooden, mossy and dilapidated. With clever angles, it looks like it could be medieval, made in some rural woods, but I know it's modern. This one anachronistic detail is what allows me to breathe.
It is still just a movie. Just a recreation. A farce. This is fake. It's all fake.
But then comes Konrad on screen. Or at least what I know to be the reconfigured body of Konrad. I recognize the shoulders and cheekbones a little, but the rest is all Polina. The audience won't be able to tell.
This Polina walks out to a fire, searching for warmth. And out from the fire … emerges a ten foot demon.
The thing from hell.
Everyone in the theater reels back. Gasps erupt.
The thing that had seared its way into my memory that fateful day. It was what Olek had been trying to capture on screen the whole time.
“I’m not interested in capturing some ghost, or possession.” Olek had told me when he forced me into that circle of cult-members. “No no. I want to catch the uncatchable. The impossible.”
I held the boom unwavering and pointed it at Polina. I could hear the fierce snarls coming out of the fire. Polina shrieked as the small flame erupted into a conflagration, opening some awful portal that never should have been opened. Olek had invited the unthinkable into our plane.
Even now, simply staring at a projection on screen, I am as captivated as I was back then.
It was a cross between a baboon and a boar, except it had flaming tusks, and mouths for eyes. The beast cried out and gored Polina, killing and roasting her.
And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.
The sound of her smoldering screech is the last thing I remembered recording.
Now here it was again. An unholy image. Dark magic. Actual footage of a devil on screen. It is horrifying, terrifying, but at the same time … mesmerizing. This one shot of the demon feasting upon Polina is traumatic and real. The audience can inherently feel that something genuine is happening. There is something on screen that is more than just an image. It is impossible to look away.
My heart jumps through my neck, I can feel it in my eyes. This moment on film is the precise cause of all misery in my life. I can’t unsee it. I can’t unhear it.
It is proof that evil is real. That there is something worse than the worst thing you could possibly imagine.
The screen becomes too bright. I feel faint.
—
When I come to, there is riotous applause. The lights in the theater have been turned on, and everyone is now on their feet, giving a standing ovation.
I am confused. Not just because I missed whatever portion of the movie came next, but also genuinely mystified. A full theater standing up, and giving unanimous applause?
I wait to see if it is out of politeness, surely after a minute they will stop. But they do not. The clapping only grows stronger.
I look around and could feel the beguilement. They are enthralled. Hypnotized by what they just saw.
The applause goes on for over fifteen minutes. Eventually the presenter goes back on stage, still continuing to clap, uninterrupting the applause for another ten minutes.
The director appears and holds his hands up high over his head. He closes his eyes. It goes on like this for another five minutes, until finally, after one last set of cheers and whistles, the pandemonium settles down.
“Thank you,” Olek says.
—
Catharsis is not what I felt. This was not the closure I was after. I felt like I had bared witness to something only I knew the true meaning behind, and I didn’t know what to do.
On stage, Olek still wore his signature black trench coat, except this one was hemmed and stylized in a high fashion sort of way. He answered benign questions from the presenter about the location, script and budget, but nothing that cut into the heart of what everyone just saw.
And then when the floor was opened up to audience questions. Everyone continued to shower praise.
“Who did your cinematography? It was beautiful.”
“Where did you find your actors? Unbelievable.”
“How did you pull off those VFX? How?”
Something inside me became livid. I looked around to see if there was anyone as put off as I was. Does no one else know what Olek truly is?
Does no one else know what happened behind the scenes?
I was beside myself. I lifted my hand to ask the next question. But there was a sea of hands, would they even pick me?
Fuck it. If no one is going to say it, then I would. Olek was in the middle of responding to some meager question when I stood up and yelled.
“Murderer! MURDERER! The man on stage is a murderer!”
Patrons within earshot turned to me, the room fell quiet. Even Olek appeared taken aback.
I began to rattle off the names of the Polish teens who went missing, reading from a list I kept in my pocket. “Adrian Kowalski! Paweł Nowak! Martyna Wiśniewska! …” I was probably butchering the pronounciation, but I yelled them anyway.
A security guard started to walk down the aisle, approaching my row. Olek is also approached by some other organizers on stage. He shook his head and grabbed the mic.
“Please do not arrest her! Please do not! This is actually all good to hear.”
I finished hollering the names. Questioning voices swirled around me.
“She is thinking of a tragic event that happened in the Polish film community,” Olek added a fair bit of grief to his voice and took a pause. “A man named Łukasz Dębrowski shot an infamous video in Poland where seven students went missing.” He lifted his hand, “I … was one of those students”
Sharp inhales travelled through the crowd. Several wow’s.
“Yes. It was a traumatic experience, but it was also, for me, revelatory. It was one of the chief inspirations behind this film actually. It is important to remember those who have suffered, so in the future we need not suffer again.”
Audience-members turned to me, looking for my response. But what was I supposed to say? Was Olek lying? Was the real Łukasz actually found and arrested?
Before I could assemble a reply, someone else asked a question, and very quickly I was forgotten. Just another fly on a wall.
Just another attention seeker.
—
Once the doors opened, I squeezed out of my seat and ran outside. I wanted to get as far away from the Polish warlock, as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, with close to two thousand seats vacating—I was trudging through molasses.
To make things worse, as I snailed out the exit funnel, I just so happened to bump into Becca, who was pleasantly surprised to see me. I had no idea she was even at the screening.
I did not want to pause, or mill about in the slightest, but I couldn’t just blow off my partner.
“Anna! Oh my god! I didn’t know you were coming to see Krew! I would have saved you a seat!”
I gave a half-assed excuse about my rave being cancelled, and then finding something else to do. Becca seemed to accept this and then introduced me to some filmie friends she had made recently at a bar. I shook their hands between a river of people.
“We should get a couple drinks!” Becca pointed to the bar across from the coat check. “Everyone’s too busy going to the bathroom. This is the perfect time! Come on!”
I really didn’t want to linger here. I really just wanted to go. But I calmed myself by picturing Olek exiting out the back. Chances are he was leaving like everyone else. I could distance myself by staying.
So despite my reservations, we sat at the bar. I wore my toque and zipped up my jacket. I didn’t want to be recognized as ‘that person at the Q&A’, but as soon as we started talking, I realized that was the last thing on anyone’s mind.
“Could you feel it in the room?”
“You mean, the energy? The magic?”
“I have never watched anything that has made me feel the way that movie does!” Becca held both hands on her head, a smile from ear to ear. “That was insane!”
I nodded and tried to fake a grin. It was easier to pretend I was on the same page, but on the inside, I was dying.
“And that’s the guy?” One of Becca’s new friends asked.
“That’s the guy!” Becca slapped my thigh, stinging it a little. “Anna, you’ll never believe this, but I’ve got some amazing news. You’ll never believe it!”
I knew that Becca had been trying to line up work for spring through a few of her contacts, and she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to jinx it. She had been pining hard for B unit camera op on Yellowjackets …
“Im shooting his next one. I’m officially his next DP!”
“That’s fucking awesome!” The other filmies said, clinking their drinks.
The information passed through me. It didn’t register.
“Isn’t that great Anna?” Becca hovered her martini close to mine.
“Isn't what great?”
“I’m shooting Olek’s next movie. My first art house, I’ve caught my big break!”
I stared at her and tried to cobble together some kind of smile, I tried to cobble together any kind of response at all. I couldn't. “No, you’re not. That’s … what?”
“I know! Crazy right!” She bumped my glass and took a big swig.
I crumpled on the inside. No. Please. This can’t be happening. I mumbled out some paltry congratulations without actually thinking about it. She kissed me on the cheek. Then I whispered to her ear, “You can’t do it. You can never do it. Please don’t.”
“What did you say?” She indicated ‘another round’ to the bartender.
I didn’t have the energy to explain. I needed to get out. I needed to get away from here. Olek could show up without me knowing. He could find me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll … I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
“Anna, are you alright?”
I shrugged and stood up. Then I left completely unceremoniously as our second set of drinks arrived. The filmies swapped confused glances, Becca stood up, but didn’t follow.
“I’ll see you at the hotel?” She called behind my back. I didn’t reply.
—
I was a complete mess on the uber ride back. This is a dream, this can’t be happening. There’s no way any of this is real.
I bolted to our hotel room in a flurry and ran to the sink. I set the water to hot and splashed it onto my face. I set the water to cold and did the same. I alternated like this, over and over.
I wiped my eyes and sat down on the bed, questioning my sanity. I took deep long breaths, emptying my lungs completely before filling them back up. I did this for about five minutes, until I could feel my heart slow down.
I closed my eyes. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe here. You’re gonna be okay.
Then a light breeze tickled across my neck. Which was odd because I did not remember leaving the window open. Did I turn on the AC?
When I looked up, he was there. Leaning against the coat rack.
Olek was in my room.
“What a coincidence,” he said.
I stayed seated on my bed. Said nothing. Enough impossible things had already happened on this night that I refused to even believe he was here.
And yet he was. Leaning on the coat rack.
“Berlin huh?”
I tried to look away, but found it difficult, his gray eyes were locked onto mine now. There wasn’t any sense of menace, or immediate danger. Just a sort of nonchalant observation. Like how a wolf might study a lost fawn.
“Did you enjoy the movie?”
I briefly considered jumping. Running. Doing anything to get out of this situation, but he was blocking the door. I was dealing with someone who could literally apparate. What could I do? What could I even attempt to do?
“You know I had a lot of trouble changing my identity. It was a lot of effort to fix that.” He took a step towards me, and lifted a single finger, pointing it. “Do you want me to fix it again?”
Ice cold dread coursed through my entire body. It felt like I was in that cabin again, shivering in a thin, damp dress. With a lot of effort, I found the ability to speak, and sputtered out what I could. “N-n-no. No. I won't tell anyone. I'll never speak of it again.”
He walked over to the window, closed it, and put his hands in his pockets. “You were the first one I’ve let go. My experiment with mercy, you know?”
Outside was dark, the rain had started to trickle. I could see a few streams sliding down on the window, streaking Olek’s reflection. “Do you like mercy?”
I cleared my throat. Nodded.
“Good. I think your friend will too. I look forward to working with her” He lowered the blinds on the window. Drew the curtains.
“Speaking of mercy. I let Polina go, did you know that?”
My eyes were glued to his own again. I couldn’t look away. My bed had turned into the soiled, rotted cot that I had clung to in that cabin.
“I couldn't keep bringing her back. She was truly depleted. After that last shot … she’s forever gone.”
His dress shoes squeaked one after the other. His black coat tailed behind. In a moment's time Olek had sat beside me on the bed.
Don’t move. Remain steady. Don’t show fear.
“It is very hard to find a new wraith. It needs to be someone who has suffered for a very long time. Someone who is always suffering.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. Patted it once. Twice.
I pictured gunning for the door. I pictured struggling to fend him off. I pictured doing nothing at all.
“You're within reach.” Is all he eventually said.
Then he sighed and stood up, walking calmly back to the door. I had a burst of adrenaline. I was ready to jump forward. To leap on his back. To run screaming towards the window.
But Olek wasn’t even paying attention to me. Instead, he glanced at his phone, and scrolled through some text. Tapped a couple things. After putting it away, he seemed to remember I was still in the room. “There’s a party happening. An underground club. You’re welcome to join if you want.”
I was far beyond a place of shock, and yet somehow this still shocked me. Is He actually inviting me to a club? What in the actual fuck?
He seemed to be able to read my face.
“Suit yourself.”
He turned around the corner out of sight. I could hear the door handle unlock, followed by the latch I put on. With an old creak, the door swung, and in about a dozen footsteps, the czarownik’s presence vanished down the hall.
I ran over and shut everything—applied all locks.
Then I went back and sat down on the bed. Do I call Becca? Do I call the police? Do I call the hotel? … Do I … Did that … actually just happen?
Am I dreaming?
I grit my teeth and eyes, feeling the muscles of my face contract.
Behind my scrunching eyelids I erase everything. This reality. This moment in time. This present universe. Everything’s wiped. This can’t be happening.
After a few minutes I find myself lying on the bed. Unaware if I laid down myself.
I must have just woken up. That’s all.
I’m not entirely convinced, but I pretend that I am.
I pretended it was all a dream.
Pretending is what I’m good at.
Pretending is all I’ve got.
—
—
—
The film shoot in Toronto would go for over a month. Becca said she would send me pictures everyday, of any fun stuff that was happening on set.
I told her she could send me pictures—but nothing of the crew, nothing of the cast, and no equipment, cameras, or anything else. Nothing.
She agreed, and very few pictures were sent.
At work I asked if I could be removed from the Bridge Studios circuit, I didn't want to deliver mail to that district anymore. So my boss transitioned my route to downtown. It was a lot busier, (with a lot less parking) and I couldn't listen to my music as much, but that's okay. At least I was keeping my mind somewhat clear.
Sometimes I would see a news van with a reporter standing outside, and other times I would see twenty-somethings making a student film. Depending on the day, I’d be able to look past it and breeze by, but not always. Sometimes I would get reminded of my boom pole, my headphones, and then get plunged back in.
I would get flashes of the horns, the mouths, the flaming tusks. I would see that thing from hell again. Then I would pull over and spend several hours easing my way out of multiple panic attacks.
It just was what it was.
I pretended it was normal.
I knew that I needed a true distraction. A paradigm shift. Something that could reset my brain away from my fear, unease and vulnerability.
So halfway through Becca’s shoot, I had finally bit the bullet on my credit cards, and signed up. I enrolled at the Digital Music Academy.
—
On the first day, we were each assigned a MIDI keyboard. They looked expensive and brand new. Each MIDI came semi-weighted with a built-in pad controller, and my hands flickered across the keys with ease. It was a very nice feeling.
There were two teachers overseeing twelve students. Both instructors were going to train us exclusively in person for three days a week, over three months. I was allowing myself to get excited.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt excited.
We introduced ourselves, everyone got a minute to explain their favorite genre of music. I said mine was trance-house with pop vocals. Someone recognized one of the more obscure artists I dropped. It felt good.
The older instructor walked around, explaining how we would be using Ableton Live. There was an in-software tutorial that he recommended following alongside his directions, and that today we would be composing a melody with a simple 4/4 beat. The goal was to get familiar with the program.
The younger instructor followed silently, handing out headphones for each of our stations.
That’s when my heart sank.
I tried to ignore the brand, but I couldn’t.
They were Sennheisers. The exact same headphones I had used every day on set. My hands shook. My throat ached. Using all the willpower at my disposal I forced them onto my head. It’s just plastic. It can’t hurt me.
There is no way I can give up on this class.
“Everything alright?” The younger instructor asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah yeah, just trying them on.”
“Good. Try opening our test file.”
Our computers were all given the same demo song to manipulate, it would help us understand how track layers and automations worked. I gave mine a play and recognized it as some 2010’s dance hit.
As a class we analyzed the placement of the drums, treble and bass layers, but I was trying hard to discern what the background vocals were. A choir of children? Seagull calls?
I scanned through the tracks in the software and couldn’t find them. As I delicately pressed the foam cups to my ears, I realized the high pitched sounds were not of kids singing or of birds calling.
It was squealing.
At first it started soft, barely distinguishable from my thoughts, but soon it grew, both in volume and duration. I pulled out the headphone jack. The playback didn’t stop.
The instructor came by and asked if I was okay again. Apparently I was crying.
The squeals turned into screeches, the screeches turned to wails, the wails deepened into thunderous, demonic howls. And somehow overtop of it all came chanting. Dark, harmonic chanting.“ Anna. Annna. Annnnnnn—”
I dropped the headphones onto my neck. and wiped away my tears.
“Yup. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I’m just—I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
I wasn’t, but what did that matter at this point? How could I even begin to scratch the surface of what I was trying to overcome? I had to find joy in something. I had to move on. I would force myself to find joy in this. I pretended to smile.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
The teacher looked into my eyes to try to understand what I was going through, but there’s no way she would. It must’ve been like that moment when I looked at Polina. At her sad, defeated eyes, bearing the weight of something that was impossible to explain.
I was the same as her now. I was just like Polina.
I held my face and started to sob. I couldn’t stop.
—
KONIEC

I - II - III - IV - V
We flew to Germany. Tickets were expensive.
—
I met Becca’s family. They were wonderful.
—
After months of waiting, dozens of nights of watching 90’s shows, listening to new “best of” playlists and scrolling through my phone, the moment had finally come.
It was our thirteenth night in Berlin, and I told Becca that I was going to a club famous for its EDM raves, (she knew I had an appreciation for German techno). Although Becca was not a huge fan herself, she told me to have fun, and that we would catch up later that same night. She would go to a bar with one of her cousins.
In truth, of course, I was going to the Friedrichstadt-Palast. A large, pretty famous theater in central Berlin that could accommodate up to 1,800 spectators. The throngs outside curled for over two blocks, but people in line told me not to worry: “das ist normal.”
Tickets weren’t cheap. The equivalent of a hundred Canadian or so. It was a near sold out screening because apparently—the film was supposed to be good.
I was curious from a typical filmgoer’s perspective whether or not the movie would be to my taste at all. Was it even possible for me to like it? Can I really enjoy something that has been responsible for so much trauma?
By some miracle, my seat was on the floor and not on a balcony. I sat in the west wing surrounded by an odd mix of audience. Half were the expected critics, cinephiles and Berliner upper crust all wearing their sophisticated evening attire, but the other half were … strange. It's like they’re expecting some kind of heavy metal concert. They were wearing all leather, latex and lots of clothespins. Several have pentagrams inscribed on their clothing. I recognized plenty of the expected band shirts. Black Sabbath. Slayer. Behemoth.
A tanned, cheerful presenter went up and explained that he was very proud to present this “exquisite gem” of a film to Europe for the first time, and that the filmmaker was in the audience with us tonight. There would be a Q & A after the screening.
I took a quick scan of the crowds to see if I could recognize somebody, but the audience was too massive. A flesh colored soup in every direction.
Soon the lights went down, the projector turned on, and several sponsors were briefly flashed on screen. Armani. Uber. Mastercard. Something called ZDF, Potsdamer Platz and RBB Media.
Then the movie started.
—
The opening scene is loud. It’s a festive night outdoors with lots of candles, lanterns, instruments and plenty of characters eating meat off skewers. It had to be set in the early 1900s, 1800s, or maybe 1700s? (I don’t know my medieval times). We’re introduced to a bride on the eve of her own wedding. I realize she looks identical to Polina.
A skewer goes through my stomach.
I’m mentally bombarded with images from that set three years ago. I see Polina getting wet from our march in the woods, I see her moaning under the twisted oak tree. Then I see her looking mangled and despondent after repurposing Kon’s dead body.
This actress on screen is Polina. No one realizes we are watching a ghost with a stolen body on screen. A wraith in cold flesh.
I exhale the thought. Squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s just a movie. Just pretend it’s a movie. That’s all you're here to see.
After a few moments I pry my eyes open, and do my best to forget. I try to get carried away by the movie’s plot. And to my surprise, I do.
Very quickly we learn that Polina is to be betrothed to a sharp, brutal man. It's someone she clearly does not want to marry. In the last hour of freedom (before she is expected at the altar), the camera follows Polina as she wanders away from the party towards a small pond, seeking solace in the night.
In subtitles we see Polina speak to herself. Pity herself. She looks into her reflection in the pond and says, “I would rather marry a pig than that awful oaf.” The water warbles a bit, buffeted by wind.
As luck would have it. Her husband-to-be chokes at the dinner banquet—on one of the meat skewers. There’s a scene where multiple people attempt a primitive Heimlich maneuver to no avail. The groom’s family ends up in tears, and the priest calls the wedding off. But despite everything, Polina’s folks still get to keep her wedding gifts as compensation. Including a large black swine.
The wedding guests leave despondent or drunk, or some mix of both, while Polina on the other hand, is secretly euphoric. It's the closest I had ever seen her to revealing a smile.
That night she visits the swine by herself at the pigsty. She is so relieved that she goes to thank the animal. Much to her surprise, it begins to talk.
“I’m your new husband.”
Polina is of course scared. Confused. “You’re my new husband?”
“Yes. Your wish has been granted, and you must treat me like your husband. If you betray this gift, your soul is forfeit.”
Polina’s pupils widen, she covers her mouth. Through narration we learn that animals could only speak back then if they had been imbued with the Devil’s magic. Although terrified, Polina reluctantly agrees to visit and feed the pig each night.
Through title cards, we learn a week has passed. Polina appears just in time to calm down a raucous swine. The pig is aggressively headbutting the fence of the pigsty
“Why are you treating me like an animal? Am I not your husband? Should I not be wearing your husband's clothes?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so the following night, we watch her walk up to her town’s small cemetery and dig up her fiancee's grave. The burial soil was not very deep (because the region is mountainous), it is dug up in a quick montage. Her betrothed had been buried in the finest suit he owned, and in between worried stares, Polina removes it piece by piece.
In the morning, Polina’s youngest brother wakes up the family with laughter. “The pig has found a suit! The pig has found a suit!”
It’s a laugh riot. The family assumes that someone in the village is playing a very funny joke. Maybe the neighbor’s teenage son? Everyone is surprisingly accepting of the pig’s new clothes, and no one draws the connection to Polina’s dead husband-to-be.
Polina pretends to find it amusing too, and says she would like her gift-pig to remain this way. Everyone is instructed not to undress the pig. And so no one does. The clothes are too filthy to touch anyway.
On Polina’s next nightly visit, the swine has a new demand.
“So you’ve dressed me like your husband. That much is true. But how come I must eat my dinner out here, out of a trough? While the rest of your family eats inside?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. So the following night, she invites the pig inside. “He gets along well with the children,” Polina explains.
Although the children are not overly ecstatic, they do indeed play with the pig, offering it some of their dinner. With a certain measure of reluctance, the family accepts this novelty, at least for the night.
But the following morning, the swine still demands more.
“How come after dinner, I am led back into this pen, and not to a bed? How come I am not permitted to share a bed with my wife?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so, after sneaking the pig more of their dinner the next evening, she waits until everyone else goes to the communal bedroom, and then she leads the pig into her own bed in the living room.
She leads the pig first onto the straw bed. He practically occupies the whole thing.
“Now lay with me.” The swine says.
Teeth clenched and shoulders raised, Polina slides onto the small patch of sheet that’s still accessible. Her ankles are seen colliding with the pig’s hooves. She shifts to lay as distantly as possible, but the pig squirms closer.
“Wrap an arm around me.”
Polina begins attempting this, and abruptly stops. She is simply too disgusted to continue. She rolls off the bed.
“A wife must lay with her husband,” The pig says.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“You will. Or your soul is mine.”
Without much choice, she lays back down, facing the pig. With all the willpower she can muster, Polina raises an arm and wraps it around the pig’s head, as if she were coddling a child. Or a lover.
“Now kiss me.”
The pig opens his large gaping maw. A glistening, pink tongue flaps out, searching for interaction. There is still some rotting food in the back of the pig’s molars.
At this point, I pull my head back and look around the audience, swapping petrified expressions with the middle aged Berliners seated around me. No amount of special effects in the world can fake what is being shown on-screen right now.
It is indisputably a live-action animal pig with a live-action actress.
They are about to kiss.
Are they actually going to?
They do.
I hear reflexive gagging, and mutters from the audience.
“Mein Gott … ”
“Widerlich.”
“It must be fake … ”
But it’s not. I can only muster about two seconds of willpower to watch this pig lick a human’s mouth like an over-excited dog.
Polina screams and brushes the pig aside. It squeals loudly, rolling in the bed.
“Kiss me! KISS ME!”
When I look back at the screen, Polina’s father emerges from the bedroom, eyes wide with shock. “The Devil has my daughter!”
The pig shrieks around on the bed, flopping and flailing like any real life animal would.
We see the father grab an ax, lift it, and then the film cuts to black.
Fade in: it's the next day. The pig lies headless on a large wooden plank, while Polina’s mother cooks its haunches over a fire. There is yelling and stomping, the camera pans over to the father who points and spits at his daughter. Polina is curled in a corner, sobbing.
She is banished to the forest. If she is ever caught close to the house again, her father will have no choice but to kill her. He will not risk spreading her evil to the rest of the family.
With nothing but her gray dress and a small sack of food, Polina treads away and into the dark, foreboding woods, forbidden from even looking back at her home.
The camera glides behind her as she stumbles through the branches. Polina moves awkwardly across deepening areas of peat and mud, before she realizes what’s underfoot, she trips into a bog. Polina sinks down to her waist, struggling tragically and inefficiently. She sinks down to her neck, and calls for help as loud as she can. Within a matter of seconds … she chokes. We see bubbles. Fingertips. Polina drowns. Another cut to black.
When we return, Polina wakes up beside a large oak tree. The very same tree I climbed in four years ago. I feel goosebumps like I’ve never felt before. I am frozen in my seat.
“Am I alive?” The subtitles hold on the screen. The actress has now changed, she is gaunter, paler. She looks like Polina did on the day I first met her. She turns to the camera, and asks the audience the same question. “Czy ja żyję? Czy ja żyję?”
“Am I alive?”
“No you are not.” The pig’s voice returns. “You have broken your promise. You have killed me like a common swine.”
Polina takes a step back and circles around the tree in reverse, searching for the source of the voice. “I didn’t mean to!” She yells.
“Your soul is forfeit. It is mine.”
Polina takes her hands in her head. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!” Something invisible pushes her over, attacks her. She tries to shove it away but it's too strong.
There’s squealing. Screaming.
This is the sound I recorded. This is what we shot beneath that tree. What happened was real.
“And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.”
Something invisible takes a bite of Polina’s shoulder, she wails and falls to the ground.
Then the film abruptly cuts to action shots of her escaping. She is terrified. Running wounded through the forest. The camera is jumpy and chaotic. I soon recognize this segment as the POV shots that Olek took as he ran through the woods on his own. A fern branch brushes past the lens.
I feel a panic attack coming on. I can’t be here. I can’t be in this theater. I get up, and attempt to squeeze by the patrons, but I can’t get past. The film is too loud and the other patrons are literally too glued to the screen to even notice me.
I plonk back down and recognize the cabin. The old lodge cabin we had visited that day. It’s wooden, mossy and dilapidated. With clever angles, it looks like it could be medieval, made in some rural woods, but I know it's modern. This one anachronistic detail is what allows me to breathe.
It is still just a movie. Just a recreation. A farce. This is fake. It's all fake.
But then comes Konrad on screen. Or at least what I know to be the reconfigured body of Konrad. I recognize the shoulders and cheekbones a little, but the rest is all Polina. The audience won't be able to tell.
This Polina walks out to a fire, searching for warmth. And out from the fire … emerges a ten foot demon.
The thing from hell.
Everyone in the theater reels back. Gasps erupt.
The thing that had seared its way into my memory that fateful day. It was what Olek had been trying to capture on screen the whole time.
“I’m not interested in capturing some ghost, or possession.” Olek had told me when he forced me into that circle of cult-members. “No no. I want to catch the uncatchable. The impossible.”
I held the boom unwavering and pointed it at Polina. I could hear the fierce snarls coming out of the fire. Polina shrieked as the small flame erupted into a conflagration, opening some awful portal that never should have been opened. Olek had invited the unthinkable into our plane.
Even now, simply staring at a projection on screen, I am as captivated as I was back then.
It was a cross between a baboon and a boar, except it had flaming tusks, and mouths for eyes. The beast cried out and gored Polina, killing and roasting her.
And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.
The sound of her smoldering screech is the last thing I remembered recording.
Now here it was again. An unholy image. Dark magic. Actual footage of a devil on screen. It is horrifying, terrifying, but at the same time … mesmerizing. This one shot of the demon feasting upon Polina is traumatic and real. The audience can inherently feel that something genuine is happening. There is something on screen that is more than just an image. It is impossible to look away.
My heart jumps through my neck, I can feel it in my eyes. This moment on film is the precise cause of all misery in my life. I can’t unsee it. I can’t unhear it.
It is proof that evil is real. That there is something worse than the worst thing you could possibly imagine.
The screen becomes too bright. I feel faint.
—
When I come to, there is riotous applause. The lights in the theater have been turned on, and everyone is now on their feet, giving a standing ovation.
I am confused. Not just because I missed whatever portion of the movie came next, but also genuinely mystified. A full theater standing up, and giving unanimous applause?
I wait to see if it is out of politeness, surely after a minute they will stop. But they do not. The clapping only grows stronger.
I look around and could feel the beguilement. They are enthralled. Hypnotized by what they just saw.
The applause goes on for over fifteen minutes. Eventually the presenter goes back on stage, still continuing to clap, uninterrupting the applause for another ten minutes.
The director appears and holds his hands up high over his head. He closes his eyes. It goes on like this for another five minutes, until finally, after one last set of cheers and whistles, the pandemonium settles down.
“Thank you,” Olek says.
—
Catharsis is not what I felt. This was not the closure I was after. I felt like I had bared witness to something only I knew the true meaning behind, and I didn’t know what to do.
On stage, Olek still wore his signature black trench coat, except this one was hemmed and stylized in a high fashion sort of way. He answered benign questions from the presenter about the location, script and budget, but nothing that cut into the heart of what everyone just saw.
And then when the floor was opened up to audience questions. Everyone continued to shower praise.
“Who did your cinematography? It was beautiful.”
“Where did you find your actors? Unbelievable.”
“How did you pull off those VFX? How?”
Something inside me became livid. I looked around to see if there was anyone as put off as I was. Does no one else know what Olek truly is?
Does no one else know what happened behind the scenes?
I was beside myself. I lifted my hand to ask the next question. But there was a sea of hands, would they even pick me?
Fuck it. If no one is going to say it, then I would. Olek was in the middle of responding to some meager question when I stood up and yelled.
“Murderer! MURDERER! The man on stage is a murderer!”
Patrons within earshot turned to me, the room fell quiet. Even Olek appeared taken aback.
I began to rattle off the names of the Polish teens who went missing, reading from a list I kept in my pocket. “Adrian Kowalski! Paweł Nowak! Martyna Wiśniewska! …” I was probably butchering the pronounciation, but I yelled them anyway.
A security guard started to walk down the aisle, approaching my row. Olek is also approached by some other organizers on stage. He shook his head and grabbed the mic.
“Please do not arrest her! Please do not! This is actually all good to hear.”
I finished hollering the names. Questioning voices swirled around me.
“She is thinking of a tragic event that happened in the Polish film community,” Olek added a fair bit of grief to his voice and took a pause. “A man named Łukasz Dębrowski shot an infamous video in Poland where seven students went missing.” He lifted his hand, “I … was one of those students”
Sharp inhales travelled through the crowd. Several wow’s.
“Yes. It was a traumatic experience, but it was also, for me, revelatory. It was one of the chief inspirations behind this film actually. It is important to remember those who have suffered, so in the future we need not suffer again.”
Audience-members turned to me, looking for my response. But what was I supposed to say? Was Olek lying? Was the real Łukasz actually found and arrested?
Before I could assemble a reply, someone else asked a question, and very quickly I was forgotten. Just another fly on a wall.
Just another attention seeker.
—
Once the doors opened, I squeezed out of my seat and ran outside. I wanted to get as far away from the Polish warlock, as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, with close to two thousand seats vacating—I was trudging through molasses.
To make things worse, as I snailed out the exit funnel, I just so happened to bump into Becca, who was pleasantly surprised to see me. I had no idea she was even at the screening.
I did not want to pause, or mill about in the slightest, but I couldn’t just blow off my partner.
“Anna! Oh my god! I didn’t know you were coming to see Krew! I would have saved you a seat!”
I gave a half-assed excuse about my rave being cancelled, and then finding something else to do. Becca seemed to accept this and then introduced me to some filmie friends she had made recently at a bar. I shook their hands between a river of people.
“We should get a couple drinks!” Becca pointed to the bar across from the coat check. “Everyone’s too busy going to the bathroom. This is the perfect time! Come on!”
I really didn’t want to linger here. I really just wanted to go. But I calmed myself by picturing Olek exiting out the back. Chances are he was leaving like everyone else. I could distance myself by staying.
So despite my reservations, we sat at the bar. I wore my toque and zipped up my jacket. I didn’t want to be recognized as ‘that person at the Q&A’, but as soon as we started talking, I realized that was the last thing on anyone’s mind.
“Could you feel it in the room?”
“You mean, the energy? The magic?”
“I have never watched anything that has made me feel the way that movie does!” Becca held both hands on her head, a smile from ear to ear. “That was insane!”
I nodded and tried to fake a grin. It was easier to pretend I was on the same page, but on the inside, I was dying.
“And that’s the guy?” One of Becca’s new friends asked.
“That’s the guy!” Becca slapped my thigh, stinging it a little. “Anna, you’ll never believe this, but I’ve got some amazing news. You’ll never believe it!”
I knew that Becca had been trying to line up work for spring through a few of her contacts, and she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to jinx it. She had been pining hard for B unit camera op on Yellowjackets …
“Im shooting his next one. I’m officially his next DP!”
“That’s fucking awesome!” The other filmies said, clinking their drinks.
The information passed through me. It didn’t register.
“Isn’t that great Anna?” Becca hovered her martini close to mine.
“Isn't what great?”
“I’m shooting Olek’s next movie. My first art house, I’ve caught my big break!”
I stared at her and tried to cobble together some kind of smile, I tried to cobble together any kind of response at all. I couldn't. “No, you’re not. That’s … what?”
“I know! Crazy right!” She bumped my glass and took a big swig.
I crumpled on the inside. No. Please. This can’t be happening. I mumbled out some paltry congratulations without actually thinking about it. She kissed me on the cheek. Then I whispered to her ear, “You can’t do it. You can never do it. Please don’t.”
“What did you say?” She indicated ‘another round’ to the bartender.
I didn’t have the energy to explain. I needed to get out. I needed to get away from here. Olek could show up without me knowing. He could find me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll … I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
“Anna, are you alright?”
I shrugged and stood up. Then I left completely unceremoniously as our second set of drinks arrived. The filmies swapped confused glances, Becca stood up, but didn’t follow.
“I’ll see you at the hotel?” She called behind my back. I didn’t reply.
—
I was a complete mess on the uber ride back. This is a dream, this can’t be happening. There’s no way any of this is real.
I bolted to our hotel room in a flurry and ran to the sink. I set the water to hot and splashed it onto my face. I set the water to cold and did the same. I alternated like this, over and over.
I wiped my eyes and sat down on the bed, questioning my sanity. I took deep long breaths, emptying my lungs completely before filling them back up. I did this for about five minutes, until I could feel my heart slow down.
I closed my eyes. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe here. You’re gonna be okay.
Then a light breeze tickled across my neck. Which was odd because I did not remember leaving the window open. Did I turn on the AC?
When I looked up, he was there. Leaning against the coat rack.
Olek was in my room.
“What a coincidence,” he said.
I stayed seated on my bed. Said nothing. Enough impossible things had already happened on this night that I refused to even believe he was here.
And yet he was. Leaning on the coat rack.
“Berlin huh?”
I tried to look away, but found it difficult, his gray eyes were locked onto mine now. There wasn’t any sense of menace, or immediate danger. Just a sort of nonchalant observation. Like how a wolf might study a lost fawn.
“Did you enjoy the movie?”
I briefly considered jumping. Running. Doing anything to get out of this situation, but he was blocking the door. I was dealing with someone who could literally apparate. What could I do? What could I even attempt to do?
“You know I had a lot of trouble changing my identity. It was a lot of effort to fix that.” He took a step towards me, and lifted a single finger, pointing it. “Do you want me to fix it again?”
Ice cold dread coursed through my entire body. It felt like I was in that cabin again, shivering in a thin, damp dress. With a lot of effort, I found the ability to speak, and sputtered out what I could. “N-n-no. No. I won't tell anyone. I'll never speak of it again.”
He walked over to the window, closed it, and put his hands in his pockets. “You were the first one I’ve let go. My experiment with mercy, you know?”
Outside was dark, the rain had started to trickle. I could see a few streams sliding down on the window, streaking Olek’s reflection. “Do you like mercy?”
I cleared my throat. Nodded.
“Good. I think your friend will too. I look forward to working with her” He lowered the blinds on the window. Drew the curtains.
“Speaking of mercy. I let Polina go, did you know that?”
My eyes were glued to his own again. I couldn’t look away. My bed had turned into the soiled, rotted cot that I had clung to in that cabin.
“I couldn't keep bringing her back. She was truly depleted. After that last shot … she’s forever gone.”
His dress shoes squeaked one after the other. His black coat tailed behind. In a moment's time Olek had sat beside me on the bed.
Don’t move. Remain steady. Don’t show fear.
“It is very hard to find a new wraith. It needs to be someone who has suffered for a very long time. Someone who is always suffering.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. Patted it once. Twice.
I pictured gunning for the door. I pictured struggling to fend him off. I pictured doing nothing at all.
“You're within reach.” Is all he eventually said.
Then he sighed and stood up, walking calmly back to the door. I had a burst of adrenaline. I was ready to jump forward. To leap on his back. To run screaming towards the window.
But Olek wasn’t even paying attention to me. Instead, he glanced at his phone, and scrolled through some text. Tapped a couple things. After putting it away, he seemed to remember I was still in the room. “There’s a party happening. An underground club. You’re welcome to join if you want.”
I was far beyond a place of shock, and yet somehow this still shocked me. Is He actually inviting me to a club? What in the actual fuck?
He seemed to be able to read my face.
“Suit yourself.”
He turned around the corner out of sight. I could hear the door handle unlock, followed by the latch I put on. With an old creak, the door swung, and in about a dozen footsteps, the czarownik’s presence vanished down the hall.
I ran over and shut everything—applied all locks.
Then I went back and sat down on the bed. Do I call Becca? Do I call the police? Do I call the hotel? … Do I … Did that … actually just happen?
Am I dreaming?
I grit my teeth and eyes, feeling the muscles of my face contract.
Behind my scrunching eyelids I erase everything. This reality. This moment in time. This present universe. Everything’s wiped. This can’t be happening.
After a few minutes I find myself lying on the bed. Unaware if I laid down myself.
I must have just woken up. That’s all.
I’m not entirely convinced, but I pretend that I am.
I pretended it was all a dream.
Pretending is what I’m good at.
Pretending is all I’ve got.
—
—
—
The film shoot in Toronto would go for over a month. Becca said she would send me pictures everyday, of any fun stuff that was happening on set.
I told her she could send me pictures—but nothing of the crew, nothing of the cast, and no equipment, cameras, or anything else. Nothing.
She agreed, and very few pictures were sent.
At work I asked if I could be removed from the Bridge Studios circuit, I didn't want to deliver mail to that district anymore. So my boss transitioned my route to downtown. It was a lot busier, (with a lot less parking) and I couldn't listen to my music as much, but that's okay. At least I was keeping my mind somewhat clear.
Sometimes I would see a news van with a reporter standing outside, and other times I would see twenty-somethings making a student film. Depending on the day, I’d be able to look past it and breeze by, but not always. Sometimes I would get reminded of my boom pole, my headphones, and then get plunged back in.
I would get flashes of the horns, the mouths, the flaming tusks. I would see that thing from hell again. Then I would pull over and spend several hours easing my way out of multiple panic attacks.
It just was what it was.
I pretended it was normal.
I knew that I needed a true distraction. A paradigm shift. Something that could reset my brain away from my fear, unease and vulnerability.
So halfway through Becca’s shoot, I had finally bit the bullet on my credit cards, and signed up. I enrolled at the Digital Music Academy.
—
On the first day, we were each assigned a MIDI keyboard. They looked expensive and brand new. Each MIDI came semi-weighted with a built-in pad controller, and my hands flickered across the keys with ease. It was a very nice feeling.
There were two teachers overseeing twelve students. Both instructors were going to train us exclusively in person for three days a week, over three months. I was allowing myself to get excited.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt excited.
We introduced ourselves, everyone got a minute to explain their favorite genre of music. I said mine was trance-house with pop vocals. Someone recognized one of the more obscure artists I dropped. It felt good.
The older instructor walked around, explaining how we would be using Ableton Live. There was an in-software tutorial that he recommended following alongside his directions, and that today we would be composing a melody with a simple 4/4 beat. The goal was to get familiar with the program.
The younger instructor followed silently, handing out headphones for each of our stations.
That’s when my heart sank.
I tried to ignore the brand, but I couldn’t.
They were Sennheisers. The exact same headphones I had used every day on set. My hands shook. My throat ached. Using all the willpower at my disposal I forced them onto my head. It’s just plastic. It can’t hurt me.
There is no way I can give up on this class.
“Everything alright?” The younger instructor asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah yeah, just trying them on.”
“Good. Try opening our test file.”
Our computers were all given the same demo song to manipulate, it would help us understand how track layers and automations worked. I gave mine a play and recognized it as some 2010’s dance hit.
As a class we analyzed the placement of the drums, treble and bass layers, but I was trying hard to discern what the background vocals were. A choir of children? Seagull calls?
I scanned through the tracks in the software and couldn’t find them. As I delicately pressed the foam cups to my ears, I realized the high pitched sounds were not of kids singing or of birds calling.
It was squealing.
At first it started soft, barely distinguishable from my thoughts, but soon it grew, both in volume and duration. I pulled out the headphone jack. The playback didn’t stop.
The instructor came by and asked if I was okay again. Apparently I was crying.
The squeals turned into screeches, the screeches turned to wails, the wails deepened into thunderous, demonic howls. And somehow overtop of it all came chanting. Dark, harmonic chanting.“ Anna. Annna. Annnnnnn—”
I dropped the headphones onto my neck. and wiped away my tears.
“Yup. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I’m just—I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
I wasn’t, but what did that matter at this point? How could I even begin to scratch the surface of what I was trying to overcome? I had to find joy in something. I had to move on. I would force myself to find joy in this. I pretended to smile.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
The teacher looked into my eyes to try to understand what I was going through, but there’s no way she would. It must’ve been like that moment when I looked at Polina. At her sad, defeated eyes, bearing the weight of something that was impossible to explain.
I was the same as her now. I was just like Polina.
I held my face and started to sob. I couldn’t stop.
—
KONIEC

I - II - III - IV - V
We flew to Germany. Tickets were expensive.
—
I met Becca’s family. They were wonderful.
—
After months of waiting, dozens of nights of watching 90’s shows, listening to new “best of” playlists and scrolling through my phone, the moment had finally come.
It was our thirteenth night in Berlin, and I told Becca that I was going to a club famous for its EDM raves, (she knew I had an appreciation for German techno). Although Becca was not a huge fan herself, she told me to have fun, and that we would catch up later that same night. She would go to a bar with one of her cousins.
In truth, of course, I was going to the Friedrichstadt-Palast. A large, pretty famous theater in central Berlin that could accommodate up to 1,800 spectators. The throngs outside curled for over two blocks, but people in line told me not to worry: “das ist normal.”
Tickets weren’t cheap. The equivalent of a hundred Canadian or so. It was a near sold out screening because apparently—the film was supposed to be good.
I was curious from a typical filmgoer’s perspective whether or not the movie would be to my taste at all. Was it even possible for me to like it? Can I really enjoy something that has been responsible for so much trauma?
By some miracle, my seat was on the floor and not on a balcony. I sat in the west wing surrounded by an odd mix of audience. Half were the expected critics, cinephiles and Berliner upper crust all wearing their sophisticated evening attire, but the other half were … strange. It's like they’re expecting some kind of heavy metal concert. They were wearing all leather, latex and lots of clothespins. Several have pentagrams inscribed on their clothing. I recognized plenty of the expected band shirts. Black Sabbath. Slayer. Behemoth.
A tanned, cheerful presenter went up and explained that he was very proud to present this “exquisite gem” of a film to Europe for the first time, and that the filmmaker was in the audience with us tonight. There would be a Q & A after the screening.
I took a quick scan of the crowds to see if I could recognize somebody, but the audience was too massive. A flesh colored soup in every direction.
Soon the lights went down, the projector turned on, and several sponsors were briefly flashed on screen. Armani. Uber. Mastercard. Something called ZDF, Potsdamer Platz and RBB Media.
Then the movie started.
—
The opening scene is loud. It’s a festive night outdoors with lots of candles, lanterns, instruments and plenty of characters eating meat off skewers. It had to be set in the early 1900s, 1800s, or maybe 1700s? (I don’t know my medieval times). We’re introduced to a bride on the eve of her own wedding. I realize she looks identical to Polina.
A skewer goes through my stomach.
I’m mentally bombarded with images from that set three years ago. I see Polina getting wet from our march in the woods, I see her moaning under the twisted oak tree. Then I see her looking mangled and despondent after repurposing Kon’s dead body.
This actress on screen is Polina. No one realizes we are watching a ghost with a stolen body on screen. A wraith in cold flesh.
I exhale the thought. Squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s just a movie. Just pretend it’s a movie. That’s all you're here to see.
After a few moments I pry my eyes open, and do my best to forget. I try to get carried away by the movie’s plot. And to my surprise, I do.
Very quickly we learn that Polina is to be betrothed to a sharp, brutal man. It's someone she clearly does not want to marry. In the last hour of freedom (before she is expected at the altar), the camera follows Polina as she wanders away from the party towards a small pond, seeking solace in the night.
In subtitles we see Polina speak to herself. Pity herself. She looks into her reflection in the pond and says, “I would rather marry a pig than that awful oaf.” The water warbles a bit, buffeted by wind.
As luck would have it. Her husband-to-be chokes at the dinner banquet—on one of the meat skewers. There’s a scene where multiple people attempt a primitive Heimlich maneuver to no avail. The groom’s family ends up in tears, and the priest calls the wedding off. But despite everything, Polina’s folks still get to keep her wedding gifts as compensation. Including a large black swine.
The wedding guests leave despondent or drunk, or some mix of both, while Polina on the other hand, is secretly euphoric. It's the closest I had ever seen her to revealing a smile.
That night she visits the swine by herself at the pigsty. She is so relieved that she goes to thank the animal. Much to her surprise, it begins to talk.
“I’m your new husband.”
Polina is of course scared. Confused. “You’re my new husband?”
“Yes. Your wish has been granted, and you must treat me like your husband. If you betray this gift, your soul is forfeit.”
Polina’s pupils widen, she covers her mouth. Through narration we learn that animals could only speak back then if they had been imbued with the Devil’s magic. Although terrified, Polina reluctantly agrees to visit and feed the pig each night.
Through title cards, we learn a week has passed. Polina appears just in time to calm down a raucous swine. The pig is aggressively headbutting the fence of the pigsty
“Why are you treating me like an animal? Am I not your husband? Should I not be wearing your husband's clothes?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so the following night, we watch her walk up to her town’s small cemetery and dig up her fiancee's grave. The burial soil was not very deep (because the region is mountainous), it is dug up in a quick montage. Her betrothed had been buried in the finest suit he owned, and in between worried stares, Polina removes it piece by piece.
In the morning, Polina’s youngest brother wakes up the family with laughter. “The pig has found a suit! The pig has found a suit!”
It’s a laugh riot. The family assumes that someone in the village is playing a very funny joke. Maybe the neighbor’s teenage son? Everyone is surprisingly accepting of the pig’s new clothes, and no one draws the connection to Polina’s dead husband-to-be.
Polina pretends to find it amusing too, and says she would like her gift-pig to remain this way. Everyone is instructed not to undress the pig. And so no one does. The clothes are too filthy to touch anyway.
On Polina’s next nightly visit, the swine has a new demand.
“So you’ve dressed me like your husband. That much is true. But how come I must eat my dinner out here, out of a trough? While the rest of your family eats inside?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. So the following night, she invites the pig inside. “He gets along well with the children,” Polina explains.
Although the children are not overly ecstatic, they do indeed play with the pig, offering it some of their dinner. With a certain measure of reluctance, the family accepts this novelty, at least for the night.
But the following morning, the swine still demands more.
“How come after dinner, I am led back into this pen, and not to a bed? How come I am not permitted to share a bed with my wife?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so, after sneaking the pig more of their dinner the next evening, she waits until everyone else goes to the communal bedroom, and then she leads the pig into her own bed in the living room.
She leads the pig first onto the straw bed. He practically occupies the whole thing.
“Now lay with me.” The swine says.
Teeth clenched and shoulders raised, Polina slides onto the small patch of sheet that’s still accessible. Her ankles are seen colliding with the pig’s hooves. She shifts to lay as distantly as possible, but the pig squirms closer.
“Wrap an arm around me.”
Polina begins attempting this, and abruptly stops. She is simply too disgusted to continue. She rolls off the bed.
“A wife must lay with her husband,” The pig says.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“You will. Or your soul is mine.”
Without much choice, she lays back down, facing the pig. With all the willpower she can muster, Polina raises an arm and wraps it around the pig’s head, as if she were coddling a child. Or a lover.
“Now kiss me.”
The pig opens his large gaping maw. A glistening, pink tongue flaps out, searching for interaction. There is still some rotting food in the back of the pig’s molars.
At this point, I pull my head back and look around the audience, swapping petrified expressions with the middle aged Berliners seated around me. No amount of special effects in the world can fake what is being shown on-screen right now.
It is indisputably a live-action animal pig with a live-action actress.
They are about to kiss.
Are they actually going to?
They do.
I hear reflexive gagging, and mutters from the audience.
“Mein Gott … ”
“Widerlich.”
“It must be fake … ”
But it’s not. I can only muster about two seconds of willpower to watch this pig lick a human’s mouth like an over-excited dog.
Polina screams and brushes the pig aside. It squeals loudly, rolling in the bed.
“Kiss me! KISS ME!”
When I look back at the screen, Polina’s father emerges from the bedroom, eyes wide with shock. “The Devil has my daughter!”
The pig shrieks around on the bed, flopping and flailing like any real life animal would.
We see the father grab an ax, lift it, and then the film cuts to black.
Fade in: it's the next day. The pig lies headless on a large wooden plank, while Polina’s mother cooks its haunches over a fire. There is yelling and stomping, the camera pans over to the father who points and spits at his daughter. Polina is curled in a corner, sobbing.
She is banished to the forest. If she is ever caught close to the house again, her father will have no choice but to kill her. He will not risk spreading her evil to the rest of the family.
With nothing but her gray dress and a small sack of food, Polina treads away and into the dark, foreboding woods, forbidden from even looking back at her home.
The camera glides behind her as she stumbles through the branches. Polina moves awkwardly across deepening areas of peat and mud, before she realizes what’s underfoot, she trips into a bog. Polina sinks down to her waist, struggling tragically and inefficiently. She sinks down to her neck, and calls for help as loud as she can. Within a matter of seconds … she chokes. We see bubbles. Fingertips. Polina drowns. Another cut to black.
When we return, Polina wakes up beside a large oak tree. The very same tree I climbed in four years ago. I feel goosebumps like I’ve never felt before. I am frozen in my seat.
“Am I alive?” The subtitles hold on the screen. The actress has now changed, she is gaunter, paler. She looks like Polina did on the day I first met her. She turns to the camera, and asks the audience the same question. “Czy ja żyję? Czy ja żyję?”
“Am I alive?”
“No you are not.” The pig’s voice returns. “You have broken your promise. You have killed me like a common swine.”
Polina takes a step back and circles around the tree in reverse, searching for the source of the voice. “I didn’t mean to!” She yells.
“Your soul is forfeit. It is mine.”
Polina takes her hands in her head. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!” Something invisible pushes her over, attacks her. She tries to shove it away but it's too strong.
There’s squealing. Screaming.
This is the sound I recorded. This is what we shot beneath that tree. What happened was real.
“And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.”
Something invisible takes a bite of Polina’s shoulder, she wails and falls to the ground.
Then the film abruptly cuts to action shots of her escaping. She is terrified. Running wounded through the forest. The camera is jumpy and chaotic. I soon recognize this segment as the POV shots that Olek took as he ran through the woods on his own. A fern branch brushes past the lens.
I feel a panic attack coming on. I can’t be here. I can’t be in this theater. I get up, and attempt to squeeze by the patrons, but I can’t get past. The film is too loud and the other patrons are literally too glued to the screen to even notice me.
I plonk back down and recognize the cabin. The old lodge cabin we had visited that day. It’s wooden, mossy and dilapidated. With clever angles, it looks like it could be medieval, made in some rural woods, but I know it's modern. This one anachronistic detail is what allows me to breathe.
It is still just a movie. Just a recreation. A farce. This is fake. It's all fake.
But then comes Konrad on screen. Or at least what I know to be the reconfigured body of Konrad. I recognize the shoulders and cheekbones a little, but the rest is all Polina. The audience won't be able to tell.
This Polina walks out to a fire, searching for warmth. And out from the fire … emerges a ten foot demon.
The thing from hell.
Everyone in the theater reels back. Gasps erupt.
The thing that had seared its way into my memory that fateful day. It was what Olek had been trying to capture on screen the whole time.
“I’m not interested in capturing some ghost, or possession.” Olek had told me when he forced me into that circle of cult-members. “No no. I want to catch the uncatchable. The impossible.”
I held the boom unwavering and pointed it at Polina. I could hear the fierce snarls coming out of the fire. Polina shrieked as the small flame erupted into a conflagration, opening some awful portal that never should have been opened. Olek had invited the unthinkable into our plane.
Even now, simply staring at a projection on screen, I am as captivated as I was back then.
It was a cross between a baboon and a boar, except it had flaming tusks, and mouths for eyes. The beast cried out and gored Polina, killing and roasting her.
And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.
The sound of her smoldering screech is the last thing I remembered recording.
Now here it was again. An unholy image. Dark magic. Actual footage of a devil on screen. It is horrifying, terrifying, but at the same time … mesmerizing. This one shot of the demon feasting upon Polina is traumatic and real. The audience can inherently feel that something genuine is happening. There is something on screen that is more than just an image. It is impossible to look away.
My heart jumps through my neck, I can feel it in my eyes. This moment on film is the precise cause of all misery in my life. I can’t unsee it. I can’t unhear it.
It is proof that evil is real. That there is something worse than the worst thing you could possibly imagine.
The screen becomes too bright. I feel faint.
—
When I come to, there is riotous applause. The lights in the theater have been turned on, and everyone is now on their feet, giving a standing ovation.
I am confused. Not just because I missed whatever portion of the movie came next, but also genuinely mystified. A full theater standing up, and giving unanimous applause?
I wait to see if it is out of politeness, surely after a minute they will stop. But they do not. The clapping only grows stronger.
I look around and could feel the beguilement. They are enthralled. Hypnotized by what they just saw.
The applause goes on for over fifteen minutes. Eventually the presenter goes back on stage, still continuing to clap, uninterrupting the applause for another ten minutes.
The director appears and holds his hands up high over his head. He closes his eyes. It goes on like this for another five minutes, until finally, after one last set of cheers and whistles, the pandemonium settles down.
“Thank you,” Olek says.
—
Catharsis is not what I felt. This was not the closure I was after. I felt like I had bared witness to something only I knew the true meaning behind, and I didn’t know what to do.
On stage, Olek still wore his signature black trench coat, except this one was hemmed and stylized in a high fashion sort of way. He answered benign questions from the presenter about the location, script and budget, but nothing that cut into the heart of what everyone just saw.
And then when the floor was opened up to audience questions. Everyone continued to shower praise.
“Who did your cinematography? It was beautiful.”
“Where did you find your actors? Unbelievable.”
“How did you pull off those VFX? How?”
Something inside me became livid. I looked around to see if there was anyone as put off as I was. Does no one else know what Olek truly is?
Does no one else know what happened behind the scenes?
I was beside myself. I lifted my hand to ask the next question. But there was a sea of hands, would they even pick me?
Fuck it. If no one is going to say it, then I would. Olek was in the middle of responding to some meager question when I stood up and yelled.
“Murderer! MURDERER! The man on stage is a murderer!”
Patrons within earshot turned to me, the room fell quiet. Even Olek appeared taken aback.
I began to rattle off the names of the Polish teens who went missing, reading from a list I kept in my pocket. “Adrian Kowalski! Paweł Nowak! Martyna Wiśniewska! …” I was probably butchering the pronounciation, but I yelled them anyway.
A security guard started to walk down the aisle, approaching my row. Olek is also approached by some other organizers on stage. He shook his head and grabbed the mic.
“Please do not arrest her! Please do not! This is actually all good to hear.”
I finished hollering the names. Questioning voices swirled around me.
“She is thinking of a tragic event that happened in the Polish film community,” Olek added a fair bit of grief to his voice and took a pause. “A man named Łukasz Dębrowski shot an infamous video in Poland where seven students went missing.” He lifted his hand, “I … was one of those students”
Sharp inhales travelled through the crowd. Several wow’s.
“Yes. It was a traumatic experience, but it was also, for me, revelatory. It was one of the chief inspirations behind this film actually. It is important to remember those who have suffered, so in the future we need not suffer again.”
Audience-members turned to me, looking for my response. But what was I supposed to say? Was Olek lying? Was the real Łukasz actually found and arrested?
Before I could assemble a reply, someone else asked a question, and very quickly I was forgotten. Just another fly on a wall.
Just another attention seeker.
—
Once the doors opened, I squeezed out of my seat and ran outside. I wanted to get as far away from the Polish warlock, as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, with close to two thousand seats vacating—I was trudging through molasses.
To make things worse, as I snailed out the exit funnel, I just so happened to bump into Becca, who was pleasantly surprised to see me. I had no idea she was even at the screening.
I did not want to pause, or mill about in the slightest, but I couldn’t just blow off my partner.
“Anna! Oh my god! I didn’t know you were coming to see Krew! I would have saved you a seat!”
I gave a half-assed excuse about my rave being cancelled, and then finding something else to do. Becca seemed to accept this and then introduced me to some filmie friends she had made recently at a bar. I shook their hands between a river of people.
“We should get a couple drinks!” Becca pointed to the bar across from the coat check. “Everyone’s too busy going to the bathroom. This is the perfect time! Come on!”
I really didn’t want to linger here. I really just wanted to go. But I calmed myself by picturing Olek exiting out the back. Chances are he was leaving like everyone else. I could distance myself by staying.
So despite my reservations, we sat at the bar. I wore my toque and zipped up my jacket. I didn’t want to be recognized as ‘that person at the Q&A’, but as soon as we started talking, I realized that was the last thing on anyone’s mind.
“Could you feel it in the room?”
“You mean, the energy? The magic?”
“I have never watched anything that has made me feel the way that movie does!” Becca held both hands on her head, a smile from ear to ear. “That was insane!”
I nodded and tried to fake a grin. It was easier to pretend I was on the same page, but on the inside, I was dying.
“And that’s the guy?” One of Becca’s new friends asked.
“That’s the guy!” Becca slapped my thigh, stinging it a little. “Anna, you’ll never believe this, but I’ve got some amazing news. You’ll never believe it!”
I knew that Becca had been trying to line up work for spring through a few of her contacts, and she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to jinx it. She had been pining hard for B unit camera op on Yellowjackets …
“Im shooting his next one. I’m officially his next DP!”
“That’s fucking awesome!” The other filmies said, clinking their drinks.
The information passed through me. It didn’t register.
“Isn’t that great Anna?” Becca hovered her martini close to mine.
“Isn't what great?”
“I’m shooting Olek’s next movie. My first art house, I’ve caught my big break!”
I stared at her and tried to cobble together some kind of smile, I tried to cobble together any kind of response at all. I couldn't. “No, you’re not. That’s … what?”
“I know! Crazy right!” She bumped my glass and took a big swig.
I crumpled on the inside. No. Please. This can’t be happening. I mumbled out some paltry congratulations without actually thinking about it. She kissed me on the cheek. Then I whispered to her ear, “You can’t do it. You can never do it. Please don’t.”
“What did you say?” She indicated ‘another round’ to the bartender.
I didn’t have the energy to explain. I needed to get out. I needed to get away from here. Olek could show up without me knowing. He could find me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll … I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
“Anna, are you alright?”
I shrugged and stood up. Then I left completely unceremoniously as our second set of drinks arrived. The filmies swapped confused glances, Becca stood up, but didn’t follow.
“I’ll see you at the hotel?” She called behind my back. I didn’t reply.
—
I was a complete mess on the uber ride back. This is a dream, this can’t be happening. There’s no way any of this is real.
I bolted to our hotel room in a flurry and ran to the sink. I set the water to hot and splashed it onto my face. I set the water to cold and did the same. I alternated like this, over and over.
I wiped my eyes and sat down on the bed, questioning my sanity. I took deep long breaths, emptying my lungs completely before filling them back up. I did this for about five minutes, until I could feel my heart slow down.
I closed my eyes. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe here. You’re gonna be okay.
Then a light breeze tickled across my neck. Which was odd because I did not remember leaving the window open. Did I turn on the AC?
When I looked up, he was there. Leaning against the coat rack.
Olek was in my room.
“What a coincidence,” he said.
I stayed seated on my bed. Said nothing. Enough impossible things had already happened on this night that I refused to even believe he was here.
And yet he was. Leaning on the coat rack.
“Berlin huh?”
I tried to look away, but found it difficult, his gray eyes were locked onto mine now. There wasn’t any sense of menace, or immediate danger. Just a sort of nonchalant observation. Like how a wolf might study a lost fawn.
“Did you enjoy the movie?”
I briefly considered jumping. Running. Doing anything to get out of this situation, but he was blocking the door. I was dealing with someone who could literally apparate. What could I do? What could I even attempt to do?
“You know I had a lot of trouble changing my identity. It was a lot of effort to fix that.” He took a step towards me, and lifted a single finger, pointing it. “Do you want me to fix it again?”
Ice cold dread coursed through my entire body. It felt like I was in that cabin again, shivering in a thin, damp dress. With a lot of effort, I found the ability to speak, and sputtered out what I could. “N-n-no. No. I won't tell anyone. I'll never speak of it again.”
He walked over to the window, closed it, and put his hands in his pockets. “You were the first one I’ve let go. My experiment with mercy, you know?”
Outside was dark, the rain had started to trickle. I could see a few streams sliding down on the window, streaking Olek’s reflection. “Do you like mercy?”
I cleared my throat. Nodded.
“Good. I think your friend will too. I look forward to working with her” He lowered the blinds on the window. Drew the curtains.
“Speaking of mercy. I let Polina go, did you know that?”
My eyes were glued to his own again. I couldn’t look away. My bed had turned into the soiled, rotted cot that I had clung to in that cabin.
“I couldn't keep bringing her back. She was truly depleted. After that last shot … she’s forever gone.”
His dress shoes squeaked one after the other. His black coat tailed behind. In a moment's time Olek had sat beside me on the bed.
Don’t move. Remain steady. Don’t show fear.
“It is very hard to find a new wraith. It needs to be someone who has suffered for a very long time. Someone who is always suffering.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. Patted it once. Twice.
I pictured gunning for the door. I pictured struggling to fend him off. I pictured doing nothing at all.
“You're within reach.” Is all he eventually said.
Then he sighed and stood up, walking calmly back to the door. I had a burst of adrenaline. I was ready to jump forward. To leap on his back. To run screaming towards the window.
But Olek wasn’t even paying attention to me. Instead, he glanced at his phone, and scrolled through some text. Tapped a couple things. After putting it away, he seemed to remember I was still in the room. “There’s a party happening. An underground club. You’re welcome to join if you want.”
I was far beyond a place of shock, and yet somehow this still shocked me. Is He actually inviting me to a club? What in the actual fuck?
He seemed to be able to read my face.
“Suit yourself.”
He turned around the corner out of sight. I could hear the door handle unlock, followed by the latch I put on. With an old creak, the door swung, and in about a dozen footsteps, the czarownik’s presence vanished down the hall.
I ran over and shut everything—applied all locks.
Then I went back and sat down on the bed. Do I call Becca? Do I call the police? Do I call the hotel? … Do I … Did that … actually just happen?
Am I dreaming?
I grit my teeth and eyes, feeling the muscles of my face contract.
Behind my scrunching eyelids I erase everything. This reality. This moment in time. This present universe. Everything’s wiped. This can’t be happening.
After a few minutes I find myself lying on the bed. Unaware if I laid down myself.
I must have just woken up. That’s all.
I’m not entirely convinced, but I pretend that I am.
I pretended it was all a dream.
Pretending is what I’m good at.
Pretending is all I’ve got.
—
—
—
The film shoot in Toronto would go for over a month. Becca said she would send me pictures everyday, of any fun stuff that was happening on set.
I told her she could send me pictures—but nothing of the crew, nothing of the cast, and no equipment, cameras, or anything else. Nothing.
She agreed, and very few pictures were sent.
At work I asked if I could be removed from the Bridge Studios circuit, I didn't want to deliver mail to that district anymore. So my boss transitioned my route to downtown. It was a lot busier, (with a lot less parking) and I couldn't listen to my music as much, but that's okay. At least I was keeping my mind somewhat clear.
Sometimes I would see a news van with a reporter standing outside, and other times I would see twenty-somethings making a student film. Depending on the day, I’d be able to look past it and breeze by, but not always. Sometimes I would get reminded of my boom pole, my headphones, and then get plunged back in.
I would get flashes of the horns, the mouths, the flaming tusks. I would see that thing from hell again. Then I would pull over and spend several hours easing my way out of multiple panic attacks.
It just was what it was.
I pretended it was normal.
I knew that I needed a true distraction. A paradigm shift. Something that could reset my brain away from my fear, unease and vulnerability.
So halfway through Becca’s shoot, I had finally bit the bullet on my credit cards, and signed up. I enrolled at the Digital Music Academy.
—
On the first day, we were each assigned a MIDI keyboard. They looked expensive and brand new. Each MIDI came semi-weighted with a built-in pad controller, and my hands flickered across the keys with ease. It was a very nice feeling.
There were two teachers overseeing twelve students. Both instructors were going to train us exclusively in person for three days a week, over three months. I was allowing myself to get excited.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt excited.
We introduced ourselves, everyone got a minute to explain their favorite genre of music. I said mine was trance-house with pop vocals. Someone recognized one of the more obscure artists I dropped. It felt good.
The older instructor walked around, explaining how we would be using Ableton Live. There was an in-software tutorial that he recommended following alongside his directions, and that today we would be composing a melody with a simple 4/4 beat. The goal was to get familiar with the program.
The younger instructor followed silently, handing out headphones for each of our stations.
That’s when my heart sank.
I tried to ignore the brand, but I couldn’t.
They were Sennheisers. The exact same headphones I had used every day on set. My hands shook. My throat ached. Using all the willpower at my disposal I forced them onto my head. It’s just plastic. It can’t hurt me.
There is no way I can give up on this class.
“Everything alright?” The younger instructor asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah yeah, just trying them on.”
“Good. Try opening our test file.”
Our computers were all given the same demo song to manipulate, it would help us understand how track layers and automations worked. I gave mine a play and recognized it as some 2010’s dance hit.
As a class we analyzed the placement of the drums, treble and bass layers, but I was trying hard to discern what the background vocals were. A choir of children? Seagull calls?
I scanned through the tracks in the software and couldn’t find them. As I delicately pressed the foam cups to my ears, I realized the high pitched sounds were not of kids singing or of birds calling.
It was squealing.
At first it started soft, barely distinguishable from my thoughts, but soon it grew, both in volume and duration. I pulled out the headphone jack. The playback didn’t stop.
The instructor came by and asked if I was okay again. Apparently I was crying.
The squeals turned into screeches, the screeches turned to wails, the wails deepened into thunderous, demonic howls. And somehow overtop of it all came chanting. Dark, harmonic chanting.“ Anna. Annna. Annnnnnn—”
I dropped the headphones onto my neck. and wiped away my tears.
“Yup. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I’m just—I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
I wasn’t, but what did that matter at this point? How could I even begin to scratch the surface of what I was trying to overcome? I had to find joy in something. I had to move on. I would force myself to find joy in this. I pretended to smile.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
The teacher looked into my eyes to try to understand what I was going through, but there’s no way she would. It must’ve been like that moment when I looked at Polina. At her sad, defeated eyes, bearing the weight of something that was impossible to explain.
I was the same as her now. I was just like Polina.
I held my face and started to sob. I couldn’t stop.
—
KONIEC

I - II - III - IV - V
We flew to Germany. Tickets were expensive.
—
I met Becca’s family. They were wonderful.
—
After months of waiting, dozens of nights of watching 90’s shows, listening to new “best of” playlists and scrolling through my phone, the moment had finally come.
It was our thirteenth night in Berlin, and I told Becca that I was going to a club famous for its EDM raves, (she knew I had an appreciation for German techno). Although Becca was not a huge fan herself, she told me to have fun, and that we would catch up later that same night. She would go to a bar with one of her cousins.
In truth, of course, I was going to the Friedrichstadt-Palast. A large, pretty famous theater in central Berlin that could accommodate up to 1,800 spectators. The throngs outside curled for over two blocks, but people in line told me not to worry: “das ist normal.”
Tickets weren’t cheap. The equivalent of a hundred Canadian or so. It was a near sold out screening because apparently—the film was supposed to be good.
I was curious from a typical filmgoer’s perspective whether or not the movie would be to my taste at all. Was it even possible for me to like it? Can I really enjoy something that has been responsible for so much trauma?
By some miracle, my seat was on the floor and not on a balcony. I sat in the west wing surrounded by an odd mix of audience. Half were the expected critics, cinephiles and Berliner upper crust all wearing their sophisticated evening attire, but the other half were … strange. It's like they’re expecting some kind of heavy metal concert. They were wearing all leather, latex and lots of clothespins. Several have pentagrams inscribed on their clothing. I recognized plenty of the expected band shirts. Black Sabbath. Slayer. Behemoth.
A tanned, cheerful presenter went up and explained that he was very proud to present this “exquisite gem” of a film to Europe for the first time, and that the filmmaker was in the audience with us tonight. There would be a Q & A after the screening.
I took a quick scan of the crowds to see if I could recognize somebody, but the audience was too massive. A flesh colored soup in every direction.
Soon the lights went down, the projector turned on, and several sponsors were briefly flashed on screen. Armani. Uber. Mastercard. Something called ZDF, Potsdamer Platz and RBB Media.
Then the movie started.
—
The opening scene is loud. It’s a festive night outdoors with lots of candles, lanterns, instruments and plenty of characters eating meat off skewers. It had to be set in the early 1900s, 1800s, or maybe 1700s? (I don’t know my medieval times). We’re introduced to a bride on the eve of her own wedding. I realize she looks identical to Polina.
A skewer goes through my stomach.
I’m mentally bombarded with images from that set three years ago. I see Polina getting wet from our march in the woods, I see her moaning under the twisted oak tree. Then I see her looking mangled and despondent after repurposing Kon’s dead body.
This actress on screen is Polina. No one realizes we are watching a ghost with a stolen body on screen. A wraith in cold flesh.
I exhale the thought. Squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s just a movie. Just pretend it’s a movie. That’s all you're here to see.
After a few moments I pry my eyes open, and do my best to forget. I try to get carried away by the movie’s plot. And to my surprise, I do.
Very quickly we learn that Polina is to be betrothed to a sharp, brutal man. It's someone she clearly does not want to marry. In the last hour of freedom (before she is expected at the altar), the camera follows Polina as she wanders away from the party towards a small pond, seeking solace in the night.
In subtitles we see Polina speak to herself. Pity herself. She looks into her reflection in the pond and says, “I would rather marry a pig than that awful oaf.” The water warbles a bit, buffeted by wind.
As luck would have it. Her husband-to-be chokes at the dinner banquet—on one of the meat skewers. There’s a scene where multiple people attempt a primitive Heimlich maneuver to no avail. The groom’s family ends up in tears, and the priest calls the wedding off. But despite everything, Polina’s folks still get to keep her wedding gifts as compensation. Including a large black swine.
The wedding guests leave despondent or drunk, or some mix of both, while Polina on the other hand, is secretly euphoric. It's the closest I had ever seen her to revealing a smile.
That night she visits the swine by herself at the pigsty. She is so relieved that she goes to thank the animal. Much to her surprise, it begins to talk.
“I’m your new husband.”
Polina is of course scared. Confused. “You’re my new husband?”
“Yes. Your wish has been granted, and you must treat me like your husband. If you betray this gift, your soul is forfeit.”
Polina’s pupils widen, she covers her mouth. Through narration we learn that animals could only speak back then if they had been imbued with the Devil’s magic. Although terrified, Polina reluctantly agrees to visit and feed the pig each night.
Through title cards, we learn a week has passed. Polina appears just in time to calm down a raucous swine. The pig is aggressively headbutting the fence of the pigsty
“Why are you treating me like an animal? Am I not your husband? Should I not be wearing your husband's clothes?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so the following night, we watch her walk up to her town’s small cemetery and dig up her fiancee's grave. The burial soil was not very deep (because the region is mountainous), it is dug up in a quick montage. Her betrothed had been buried in the finest suit he owned, and in between worried stares, Polina removes it piece by piece.
In the morning, Polina’s youngest brother wakes up the family with laughter. “The pig has found a suit! The pig has found a suit!”
It’s a laugh riot. The family assumes that someone in the village is playing a very funny joke. Maybe the neighbor’s teenage son? Everyone is surprisingly accepting of the pig’s new clothes, and no one draws the connection to Polina’s dead husband-to-be.
Polina pretends to find it amusing too, and says she would like her gift-pig to remain this way. Everyone is instructed not to undress the pig. And so no one does. The clothes are too filthy to touch anyway.
On Polina’s next nightly visit, the swine has a new demand.
“So you’ve dressed me like your husband. That much is true. But how come I must eat my dinner out here, out of a trough? While the rest of your family eats inside?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. So the following night, she invites the pig inside. “He gets along well with the children,” Polina explains.
Although the children are not overly ecstatic, they do indeed play with the pig, offering it some of their dinner. With a certain measure of reluctance, the family accepts this novelty, at least for the night.
But the following morning, the swine still demands more.
“How come after dinner, I am led back into this pen, and not to a bed? How come I am not permitted to share a bed with my wife?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so, after sneaking the pig more of their dinner the next evening, she waits until everyone else goes to the communal bedroom, and then she leads the pig into her own bed in the living room.
She leads the pig first onto the straw bed. He practically occupies the whole thing.
“Now lay with me.” The swine says.
Teeth clenched and shoulders raised, Polina slides onto the small patch of sheet that’s still accessible. Her ankles are seen colliding with the pig’s hooves. She shifts to lay as distantly as possible, but the pig squirms closer.
“Wrap an arm around me.”
Polina begins attempting this, and abruptly stops. She is simply too disgusted to continue. She rolls off the bed.
“A wife must lay with her husband,” The pig says.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“You will. Or your soul is mine.”
Without much choice, she lays back down, facing the pig. With all the willpower she can muster, Polina raises an arm and wraps it around the pig’s head, as if she were coddling a child. Or a lover.
“Now kiss me.”
The pig opens his large gaping maw. A glistening, pink tongue flaps out, searching for interaction. There is still some rotting food in the back of the pig’s molars.
At this point, I pull my head back and look around the audience, swapping petrified expressions with the middle aged Berliners seated around me. No amount of special effects in the world can fake what is being shown on-screen right now.
It is indisputably a live-action animal pig with a live-action actress.
They are about to kiss.
Are they actually going to?
They do.
I hear reflexive gagging, and mutters from the audience.
“Mein Gott … ”
“Widerlich.”
“It must be fake … ”
But it’s not. I can only muster about two seconds of willpower to watch this pig lick a human’s mouth like an over-excited dog.
Polina screams and brushes the pig aside. It squeals loudly, rolling in the bed.
“Kiss me! KISS ME!”
When I look back at the screen, Polina’s father emerges from the bedroom, eyes wide with shock. “The Devil has my daughter!”
The pig shrieks around on the bed, flopping and flailing like any real life animal would.
We see the father grab an ax, lift it, and then the film cuts to black.
Fade in: it's the next day. The pig lies headless on a large wooden plank, while Polina’s mother cooks its haunches over a fire. There is yelling and stomping, the camera pans over to the father who points and spits at his daughter. Polina is curled in a corner, sobbing.
She is banished to the forest. If she is ever caught close to the house again, her father will have no choice but to kill her. He will not risk spreading her evil to the rest of the family.
With nothing but her gray dress and a small sack of food, Polina treads away and into the dark, foreboding woods, forbidden from even looking back at her home.
The camera glides behind her as she stumbles through the branches. Polina moves awkwardly across deepening areas of peat and mud, before she realizes what’s underfoot, she trips into a bog. Polina sinks down to her waist, struggling tragically and inefficiently. She sinks down to her neck, and calls for help as loud as she can. Within a matter of seconds … she chokes. We see bubbles. Fingertips. Polina drowns. Another cut to black.
When we return, Polina wakes up beside a large oak tree. The very same tree I climbed in four years ago. I feel goosebumps like I’ve never felt before. I am frozen in my seat.
“Am I alive?” The subtitles hold on the screen. The actress has now changed, she is gaunter, paler. She looks like Polina did on the day I first met her. She turns to the camera, and asks the audience the same question. “Czy ja żyję? Czy ja żyję?”
“Am I alive?”
“No you are not.” The pig’s voice returns. “You have broken your promise. You have killed me like a common swine.”
Polina takes a step back and circles around the tree in reverse, searching for the source of the voice. “I didn’t mean to!” She yells.
“Your soul is forfeit. It is mine.”
Polina takes her hands in her head. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!” Something invisible pushes her over, attacks her. She tries to shove it away but it's too strong.
There’s squealing. Screaming.
This is the sound I recorded. This is what we shot beneath that tree. What happened was real.
“And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.”
Something invisible takes a bite of Polina’s shoulder, she wails and falls to the ground.
Then the film abruptly cuts to action shots of her escaping. She is terrified. Running wounded through the forest. The camera is jumpy and chaotic. I soon recognize this segment as the POV shots that Olek took as he ran through the woods on his own. A fern branch brushes past the lens.
I feel a panic attack coming on. I can’t be here. I can’t be in this theater. I get up, and attempt to squeeze by the patrons, but I can’t get past. The film is too loud and the other patrons are literally too glued to the screen to even notice me.
I plonk back down and recognize the cabin. The old lodge cabin we had visited that day. It’s wooden, mossy and dilapidated. With clever angles, it looks like it could be medieval, made in some rural woods, but I know it's modern. This one anachronistic detail is what allows me to breathe.
It is still just a movie. Just a recreation. A farce. This is fake. It's all fake.
But then comes Konrad on screen. Or at least what I know to be the reconfigured body of Konrad. I recognize the shoulders and cheekbones a little, but the rest is all Polina. The audience won't be able to tell.
This Polina walks out to a fire, searching for warmth. And out from the fire … emerges a ten foot demon.
The thing from hell.
Everyone in the theater reels back. Gasps erupt.
The thing that had seared its way into my memory that fateful day. It was what Olek had been trying to capture on screen the whole time.
“I’m not interested in capturing some ghost, or possession.” Olek had told me when he forced me into that circle of cult-members. “No no. I want to catch the uncatchable. The impossible.”
I held the boom unwavering and pointed it at Polina. I could hear the fierce snarls coming out of the fire. Polina shrieked as the small flame erupted into a conflagration, opening some awful portal that never should have been opened. Olek had invited the unthinkable into our plane.
Even now, simply staring at a projection on screen, I am as captivated as I was back then.
It was a cross between a baboon and a boar, except it had flaming tusks, and mouths for eyes. The beast cried out and gored Polina, killing and roasting her.
And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.
The sound of her smoldering screech is the last thing I remembered recording.
Now here it was again. An unholy image. Dark magic. Actual footage of a devil on screen. It is horrifying, terrifying, but at the same time … mesmerizing. This one shot of the demon feasting upon Polina is traumatic and real. The audience can inherently feel that something genuine is happening. There is something on screen that is more than just an image. It is impossible to look away.
My heart jumps through my neck, I can feel it in my eyes. This moment on film is the precise cause of all misery in my life. I can’t unsee it. I can’t unhear it.
It is proof that evil is real. That there is something worse than the worst thing you could possibly imagine.
The screen becomes too bright. I feel faint.
—
When I come to, there is riotous applause. The lights in the theater have been turned on, and everyone is now on their feet, giving a standing ovation.
I am confused. Not just because I missed whatever portion of the movie came next, but also genuinely mystified. A full theater standing up, and giving unanimous applause?
I wait to see if it is out of politeness, surely after a minute they will stop. But they do not. The clapping only grows stronger.
I look around and could feel the beguilement. They are enthralled. Hypnotized by what they just saw.
The applause goes on for over fifteen minutes. Eventually the presenter goes back on stage, still continuing to clap, uninterrupting the applause for another ten minutes.
The director appears and holds his hands up high over his head. He closes his eyes. It goes on like this for another five minutes, until finally, after one last set of cheers and whistles, the pandemonium settles down.
“Thank you,” Olek says.
—
Catharsis is not what I felt. This was not the closure I was after. I felt like I had bared witness to something only I knew the true meaning behind, and I didn’t know what to do.
On stage, Olek still wore his signature black trench coat, except this one was hemmed and stylized in a high fashion sort of way. He answered benign questions from the presenter about the location, script and budget, but nothing that cut into the heart of what everyone just saw.
And then when the floor was opened up to audience questions. Everyone continued to shower praise.
“Who did your cinematography? It was beautiful.”
“Where did you find your actors? Unbelievable.”
“How did you pull off those VFX? How?”
Something inside me became livid. I looked around to see if there was anyone as put off as I was. Does no one else know what Olek truly is?
Does no one else know what happened behind the scenes?
I was beside myself. I lifted my hand to ask the next question. But there was a sea of hands, would they even pick me?
Fuck it. If no one is going to say it, then I would. Olek was in the middle of responding to some meager question when I stood up and yelled.
“Murderer! MURDERER! The man on stage is a murderer!”
Patrons within earshot turned to me, the room fell quiet. Even Olek appeared taken aback.
I began to rattle off the names of the Polish teens who went missing, reading from a list I kept in my pocket. “Adrian Kowalski! Paweł Nowak! Martyna Wiśniewska! …” I was probably butchering the pronounciation, but I yelled them anyway.
A security guard started to walk down the aisle, approaching my row. Olek is also approached by some other organizers on stage. He shook his head and grabbed the mic.
“Please do not arrest her! Please do not! This is actually all good to hear.”
I finished hollering the names. Questioning voices swirled around me.
“She is thinking of a tragic event that happened in the Polish film community,” Olek added a fair bit of grief to his voice and took a pause. “A man named Łukasz Dębrowski shot an infamous video in Poland where seven students went missing.” He lifted his hand, “I … was one of those students”
Sharp inhales travelled through the crowd. Several wow’s.
“Yes. It was a traumatic experience, but it was also, for me, revelatory. It was one of the chief inspirations behind this film actually. It is important to remember those who have suffered, so in the future we need not suffer again.”
Audience-members turned to me, looking for my response. But what was I supposed to say? Was Olek lying? Was the real Łukasz actually found and arrested?
Before I could assemble a reply, someone else asked a question, and very quickly I was forgotten. Just another fly on a wall.
Just another attention seeker.
—
Once the doors opened, I squeezed out of my seat and ran outside. I wanted to get as far away from the Polish warlock, as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, with close to two thousand seats vacating—I was trudging through molasses.
To make things worse, as I snailed out the exit funnel, I just so happened to bump into Becca, who was pleasantly surprised to see me. I had no idea she was even at the screening.
I did not want to pause, or mill about in the slightest, but I couldn’t just blow off my partner.
“Anna! Oh my god! I didn’t know you were coming to see Krew! I would have saved you a seat!”
I gave a half-assed excuse about my rave being cancelled, and then finding something else to do. Becca seemed to accept this and then introduced me to some filmie friends she had made recently at a bar. I shook their hands between a river of people.
“We should get a couple drinks!” Becca pointed to the bar across from the coat check. “Everyone’s too busy going to the bathroom. This is the perfect time! Come on!”
I really didn’t want to linger here. I really just wanted to go. But I calmed myself by picturing Olek exiting out the back. Chances are he was leaving like everyone else. I could distance myself by staying.
So despite my reservations, we sat at the bar. I wore my toque and zipped up my jacket. I didn’t want to be recognized as ‘that person at the Q&A’, but as soon as we started talking, I realized that was the last thing on anyone’s mind.
“Could you feel it in the room?”
“You mean, the energy? The magic?”
“I have never watched anything that has made me feel the way that movie does!” Becca held both hands on her head, a smile from ear to ear. “That was insane!”
I nodded and tried to fake a grin. It was easier to pretend I was on the same page, but on the inside, I was dying.
“And that’s the guy?” One of Becca’s new friends asked.
“That’s the guy!” Becca slapped my thigh, stinging it a little. “Anna, you’ll never believe this, but I’ve got some amazing news. You’ll never believe it!”
I knew that Becca had been trying to line up work for spring through a few of her contacts, and she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to jinx it. She had been pining hard for B unit camera op on Yellowjackets …
“Im shooting his next one. I’m officially his next DP!”
“That’s fucking awesome!” The other filmies said, clinking their drinks.
The information passed through me. It didn’t register.
“Isn’t that great Anna?” Becca hovered her martini close to mine.
“Isn't what great?”
“I’m shooting Olek’s next movie. My first art house, I’ve caught my big break!”
I stared at her and tried to cobble together some kind of smile, I tried to cobble together any kind of response at all. I couldn't. “No, you’re not. That’s … what?”
“I know! Crazy right!” She bumped my glass and took a big swig.
I crumpled on the inside. No. Please. This can’t be happening. I mumbled out some paltry congratulations without actually thinking about it. She kissed me on the cheek. Then I whispered to her ear, “You can’t do it. You can never do it. Please don’t.”
“What did you say?” She indicated ‘another round’ to the bartender.
I didn’t have the energy to explain. I needed to get out. I needed to get away from here. Olek could show up without me knowing. He could find me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll … I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
“Anna, are you alright?”
I shrugged and stood up. Then I left completely unceremoniously as our second set of drinks arrived. The filmies swapped confused glances, Becca stood up, but didn’t follow.
“I’ll see you at the hotel?” She called behind my back. I didn’t reply.
—
I was a complete mess on the uber ride back. This is a dream, this can’t be happening. There’s no way any of this is real.
I bolted to our hotel room in a flurry and ran to the sink. I set the water to hot and splashed it onto my face. I set the water to cold and did the same. I alternated like this, over and over.
I wiped my eyes and sat down on the bed, questioning my sanity. I took deep long breaths, emptying my lungs completely before filling them back up. I did this for about five minutes, until I could feel my heart slow down.
I closed my eyes. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe here. You’re gonna be okay.
Then a light breeze tickled across my neck. Which was odd because I did not remember leaving the window open. Did I turn on the AC?
When I looked up, he was there. Leaning against the coat rack.
Olek was in my room.
“What a coincidence,” he said.
I stayed seated on my bed. Said nothing. Enough impossible things had already happened on this night that I refused to even believe he was here.
And yet he was. Leaning on the coat rack.
“Berlin huh?”
I tried to look away, but found it difficult, his gray eyes were locked onto mine now. There wasn’t any sense of menace, or immediate danger. Just a sort of nonchalant observation. Like how a wolf might study a lost fawn.
“Did you enjoy the movie?”
I briefly considered jumping. Running. Doing anything to get out of this situation, but he was blocking the door. I was dealing with someone who could literally apparate. What could I do? What could I even attempt to do?
“You know I had a lot of trouble changing my identity. It was a lot of effort to fix that.” He took a step towards me, and lifted a single finger, pointing it. “Do you want me to fix it again?”
Ice cold dread coursed through my entire body. It felt like I was in that cabin again, shivering in a thin, damp dress. With a lot of effort, I found the ability to speak, and sputtered out what I could. “N-n-no. No. I won't tell anyone. I'll never speak of it again.”
He walked over to the window, closed it, and put his hands in his pockets. “You were the first one I’ve let go. My experiment with mercy, you know?”
Outside was dark, the rain had started to trickle. I could see a few streams sliding down on the window, streaking Olek’s reflection. “Do you like mercy?”
I cleared my throat. Nodded.
“Good. I think your friend will too. I look forward to working with her” He lowered the blinds on the window. Drew the curtains.
“Speaking of mercy. I let Polina go, did you know that?”
My eyes were glued to his own again. I couldn’t look away. My bed had turned into the soiled, rotted cot that I had clung to in that cabin.
“I couldn't keep bringing her back. She was truly depleted. After that last shot … she’s forever gone.”
His dress shoes squeaked one after the other. His black coat tailed behind. In a moment's time Olek had sat beside me on the bed.
Don’t move. Remain steady. Don’t show fear.
“It is very hard to find a new wraith. It needs to be someone who has suffered for a very long time. Someone who is always suffering.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. Patted it once. Twice.
I pictured gunning for the door. I pictured struggling to fend him off. I pictured doing nothing at all.
“You're within reach.” Is all he eventually said.
Then he sighed and stood up, walking calmly back to the door. I had a burst of adrenaline. I was ready to jump forward. To leap on his back. To run screaming towards the window.
But Olek wasn’t even paying attention to me. Instead, he glanced at his phone, and scrolled through some text. Tapped a couple things. After putting it away, he seemed to remember I was still in the room. “There’s a party happening. An underground club. You’re welcome to join if you want.”
I was far beyond a place of shock, and yet somehow this still shocked me. Is He actually inviting me to a club? What in the actual fuck?
He seemed to be able to read my face.
“Suit yourself.”
He turned around the corner out of sight. I could hear the door handle unlock, followed by the latch I put on. With an old creak, the door swung, and in about a dozen footsteps, the czarownik’s presence vanished down the hall.
I ran over and shut everything—applied all locks.
Then I went back and sat down on the bed. Do I call Becca? Do I call the police? Do I call the hotel? … Do I … Did that … actually just happen?
Am I dreaming?
I grit my teeth and eyes, feeling the muscles of my face contract.
Behind my scrunching eyelids I erase everything. This reality. This moment in time. This present universe. Everything’s wiped. This can’t be happening.
After a few minutes I find myself lying on the bed. Unaware if I laid down myself.
I must have just woken up. That’s all.
I’m not entirely convinced, but I pretend that I am.
I pretended it was all a dream.
Pretending is what I’m good at.
Pretending is all I’ve got.
—
—
—
The film shoot in Toronto would go for over a month. Becca said she would send me pictures everyday, of any fun stuff that was happening on set.
I told her she could send me pictures—but nothing of the crew, nothing of the cast, and no equipment, cameras, or anything else. Nothing.
She agreed, and very few pictures were sent.
At work I asked if I could be removed from the Bridge Studios circuit, I didn't want to deliver mail to that district anymore. So my boss transitioned my route to downtown. It was a lot busier, (with a lot less parking) and I couldn't listen to my music as much, but that's okay. At least I was keeping my mind somewhat clear.
Sometimes I would see a news van with a reporter standing outside, and other times I would see twenty-somethings making a student film. Depending on the day, I’d be able to look past it and breeze by, but not always. Sometimes I would get reminded of my boom pole, my headphones, and then get plunged back in.
I would get flashes of the horns, the mouths, the flaming tusks. I would see that thing from hell again. Then I would pull over and spend several hours easing my way out of multiple panic attacks.
It just was what it was.
I pretended it was normal.
I knew that I needed a true distraction. A paradigm shift. Something that could reset my brain away from my fear, unease and vulnerability.
So halfway through Becca’s shoot, I had finally bit the bullet on my credit cards, and signed up. I enrolled at the Digital Music Academy.
—
On the first day, we were each assigned a MIDI keyboard. They looked expensive and brand new. Each MIDI came semi-weighted with a built-in pad controller, and my hands flickered across the keys with ease. It was a very nice feeling.
There were two teachers overseeing twelve students. Both instructors were going to train us exclusively in person for three days a week, over three months. I was allowing myself to get excited.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt excited.
We introduced ourselves, everyone got a minute to explain their favorite genre of music. I said mine was trance-house with pop vocals. Someone recognized one of the more obscure artists I dropped. It felt good.
The older instructor walked around, explaining how we would be using Ableton Live. There was an in-software tutorial that he recommended following alongside his directions, and that today we would be composing a melody with a simple 4/4 beat. The goal was to get familiar with the program.
The younger instructor followed silently, handing out headphones for each of our stations.
That’s when my heart sank.
I tried to ignore the brand, but I couldn’t.
They were Sennheisers. The exact same headphones I had used every day on set. My hands shook. My throat ached. Using all the willpower at my disposal I forced them onto my head. It’s just plastic. It can’t hurt me.
There is no way I can give up on this class.
“Everything alright?” The younger instructor asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah yeah, just trying them on.”
“Good. Try opening our test file.”
Our computers were all given the same demo song to manipulate, it would help us understand how track layers and automations worked. I gave mine a play and recognized it as some 2010’s dance hit.
As a class we analyzed the placement of the drums, treble and bass layers, but I was trying hard to discern what the background vocals were. A choir of children? Seagull calls?
I scanned through the tracks in the software and couldn’t find them. As I delicately pressed the foam cups to my ears, I realized the high pitched sounds were not of kids singing or of birds calling.
It was squealing.
At first it started soft, barely distinguishable from my thoughts, but soon it grew, both in volume and duration. I pulled out the headphone jack. The playback didn’t stop.
The instructor came by and asked if I was okay again. Apparently I was crying.
The squeals turned into screeches, the screeches turned to wails, the wails deepened into thunderous, demonic howls. And somehow overtop of it all came chanting. Dark, harmonic chanting.“ Anna. Annna. Annnnnnn—”
I dropped the headphones onto my neck. and wiped away my tears.
“Yup. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I’m just—I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
I wasn’t, but what did that matter at this point? How could I even begin to scratch the surface of what I was trying to overcome? I had to find joy in something. I had to move on. I would force myself to find joy in this. I pretended to smile.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
The teacher looked into my eyes to try to understand what I was going through, but there’s no way she would. It must’ve been like that moment when I looked at Polina. At her sad, defeated eyes, bearing the weight of something that was impossible to explain.
I was the same as her now. I was just like Polina.
I held my face and started to sob. I couldn’t stop.
—
KONIEC

I - II - III - IV - V
We flew to Germany. Tickets were expensive.
—
I met Becca’s family. They were wonderful.
—
After months of waiting, dozens of nights of watching 90’s shows, listening to new “best of” playlists and scrolling through my phone, the moment had finally come.
It was our thirteenth night in Berlin, and I told Becca that I was going to a club famous for its EDM raves, (she knew I had an appreciation for German techno). Although Becca was not a huge fan herself, she told me to have fun, and that we would catch up later that same night. She would go to a bar with one of her cousins.
In truth, of course, I was going to the Friedrichstadt-Palast. A large, pretty famous theater in central Berlin that could accommodate up to 1,800 spectators. The throngs outside curled for over two blocks, but people in line told me not to worry: “das ist normal.”
Tickets weren’t cheap. The equivalent of a hundred Canadian or so. It was a near sold out screening because apparently—the film was supposed to be good.
I was curious from a typical filmgoer’s perspective whether or not the movie would be to my taste at all. Was it even possible for me to like it? Can I really enjoy something that has been responsible for so much trauma?
By some miracle, my seat was on the floor and not on a balcony. I sat in the west wing surrounded by an odd mix of audience. Half were the expected critics, cinephiles and Berliner upper crust all wearing their sophisticated evening attire, but the other half were … strange. It's like they’re expecting some kind of heavy metal concert. They were wearing all leather, latex and lots of clothespins. Several have pentagrams inscribed on their clothing. I recognized plenty of the expected band shirts. Black Sabbath. Slayer. Behemoth.
A tanned, cheerful presenter went up and explained that he was very proud to present this “exquisite gem” of a film to Europe for the first time, and that the filmmaker was in the audience with us tonight. There would be a Q & A after the screening.
I took a quick scan of the crowds to see if I could recognize somebody, but the audience was too massive. A flesh colored soup in every direction.
Soon the lights went down, the projector turned on, and several sponsors were briefly flashed on screen. Armani. Uber. Mastercard. Something called ZDF, Potsdamer Platz and RBB Media.
Then the movie started.
—
The opening scene is loud. It’s a festive night outdoors with lots of candles, lanterns, instruments and plenty of characters eating meat off skewers. It had to be set in the early 1900s, 1800s, or maybe 1700s? (I don’t know my medieval times). We’re introduced to a bride on the eve of her own wedding. I realize she looks identical to Polina.
A skewer goes through my stomach.
I’m mentally bombarded with images from that set three years ago. I see Polina getting wet from our march in the woods, I see her moaning under the twisted oak tree. Then I see her looking mangled and despondent after repurposing Kon’s dead body.
This actress on screen is Polina. No one realizes we are watching a ghost with a stolen body on screen. A wraith in cold flesh.
I exhale the thought. Squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s just a movie. Just pretend it’s a movie. That’s all you're here to see.
After a few moments I pry my eyes open, and do my best to forget. I try to get carried away by the movie’s plot. And to my surprise, I do.
Very quickly we learn that Polina is to be betrothed to a sharp, brutal man. It's someone she clearly does not want to marry. In the last hour of freedom (before she is expected at the altar), the camera follows Polina as she wanders away from the party towards a small pond, seeking solace in the night.
In subtitles we see Polina speak to herself. Pity herself. She looks into her reflection in the pond and says, “I would rather marry a pig than that awful oaf.” The water warbles a bit, buffeted by wind.
As luck would have it. Her husband-to-be chokes at the dinner banquet—on one of the meat skewers. There’s a scene where multiple people attempt a primitive Heimlich maneuver to no avail. The groom’s family ends up in tears, and the priest calls the wedding off. But despite everything, Polina’s folks still get to keep her wedding gifts as compensation. Including a large black swine.
The wedding guests leave despondent or drunk, or some mix of both, while Polina on the other hand, is secretly euphoric. It's the closest I had ever seen her to revealing a smile.
That night she visits the swine by herself at the pigsty. She is so relieved that she goes to thank the animal. Much to her surprise, it begins to talk.
“I’m your new husband.”
Polina is of course scared. Confused. “You’re my new husband?”
“Yes. Your wish has been granted, and you must treat me like your husband. If you betray this gift, your soul is forfeit.”
Polina’s pupils widen, she covers her mouth. Through narration we learn that animals could only speak back then if they had been imbued with the Devil’s magic. Although terrified, Polina reluctantly agrees to visit and feed the pig each night.
Through title cards, we learn a week has passed. Polina appears just in time to calm down a raucous swine. The pig is aggressively headbutting the fence of the pigsty
“Why are you treating me like an animal? Am I not your husband? Should I not be wearing your husband's clothes?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so the following night, we watch her walk up to her town’s small cemetery and dig up her fiancee's grave. The burial soil was not very deep (because the region is mountainous), it is dug up in a quick montage. Her betrothed had been buried in the finest suit he owned, and in between worried stares, Polina removes it piece by piece.
In the morning, Polina’s youngest brother wakes up the family with laughter. “The pig has found a suit! The pig has found a suit!”
It’s a laugh riot. The family assumes that someone in the village is playing a very funny joke. Maybe the neighbor’s teenage son? Everyone is surprisingly accepting of the pig’s new clothes, and no one draws the connection to Polina’s dead husband-to-be.
Polina pretends to find it amusing too, and says she would like her gift-pig to remain this way. Everyone is instructed not to undress the pig. And so no one does. The clothes are too filthy to touch anyway.
On Polina’s next nightly visit, the swine has a new demand.
“So you’ve dressed me like your husband. That much is true. But how come I must eat my dinner out here, out of a trough? While the rest of your family eats inside?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. So the following night, she invites the pig inside. “He gets along well with the children,” Polina explains.
Although the children are not overly ecstatic, they do indeed play with the pig, offering it some of their dinner. With a certain measure of reluctance, the family accepts this novelty, at least for the night.
But the following morning, the swine still demands more.
“How come after dinner, I am led back into this pen, and not to a bed? How come I am not permitted to share a bed with my wife?”
Polina has no rebuttal for this. And so, after sneaking the pig more of their dinner the next evening, she waits until everyone else goes to the communal bedroom, and then she leads the pig into her own bed in the living room.
She leads the pig first onto the straw bed. He practically occupies the whole thing.
“Now lay with me.” The swine says.
Teeth clenched and shoulders raised, Polina slides onto the small patch of sheet that’s still accessible. Her ankles are seen colliding with the pig’s hooves. She shifts to lay as distantly as possible, but the pig squirms closer.
“Wrap an arm around me.”
Polina begins attempting this, and abruptly stops. She is simply too disgusted to continue. She rolls off the bed.
“A wife must lay with her husband,” The pig says.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“You will. Or your soul is mine.”
Without much choice, she lays back down, facing the pig. With all the willpower she can muster, Polina raises an arm and wraps it around the pig’s head, as if she were coddling a child. Or a lover.
“Now kiss me.”
The pig opens his large gaping maw. A glistening, pink tongue flaps out, searching for interaction. There is still some rotting food in the back of the pig’s molars.
At this point, I pull my head back and look around the audience, swapping petrified expressions with the middle aged Berliners seated around me. No amount of special effects in the world can fake what is being shown on-screen right now.
It is indisputably a live-action animal pig with a live-action actress.
They are about to kiss.
Are they actually going to?
They do.
I hear reflexive gagging, and mutters from the audience.
“Mein Gott … ”
“Widerlich.”
“It must be fake … ”
But it’s not. I can only muster about two seconds of willpower to watch this pig lick a human’s mouth like an over-excited dog.
Polina screams and brushes the pig aside. It squeals loudly, rolling in the bed.
“Kiss me! KISS ME!”
When I look back at the screen, Polina’s father emerges from the bedroom, eyes wide with shock. “The Devil has my daughter!”
The pig shrieks around on the bed, flopping and flailing like any real life animal would.
We see the father grab an ax, lift it, and then the film cuts to black.
Fade in: it's the next day. The pig lies headless on a large wooden plank, while Polina’s mother cooks its haunches over a fire. There is yelling and stomping, the camera pans over to the father who points and spits at his daughter. Polina is curled in a corner, sobbing.
She is banished to the forest. If she is ever caught close to the house again, her father will have no choice but to kill her. He will not risk spreading her evil to the rest of the family.
With nothing but her gray dress and a small sack of food, Polina treads away and into the dark, foreboding woods, forbidden from even looking back at her home.
The camera glides behind her as she stumbles through the branches. Polina moves awkwardly across deepening areas of peat and mud, before she realizes what’s underfoot, she trips into a bog. Polina sinks down to her waist, struggling tragically and inefficiently. She sinks down to her neck, and calls for help as loud as she can. Within a matter of seconds … she chokes. We see bubbles. Fingertips. Polina drowns. Another cut to black.
When we return, Polina wakes up beside a large oak tree. The very same tree I climbed in four years ago. I feel goosebumps like I’ve never felt before. I am frozen in my seat.
“Am I alive?” The subtitles hold on the screen. The actress has now changed, she is gaunter, paler. She looks like Polina did on the day I first met her. She turns to the camera, and asks the audience the same question. “Czy ja żyję? Czy ja żyję?”
“Am I alive?”
“No you are not.” The pig’s voice returns. “You have broken your promise. You have killed me like a common swine.”
Polina takes a step back and circles around the tree in reverse, searching for the source of the voice. “I didn’t mean to!” She yells.
“Your soul is forfeit. It is mine.”
Polina takes her hands in her head. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!” Something invisible pushes her over, attacks her. She tries to shove it away but it's too strong.
There’s squealing. Screaming.
This is the sound I recorded. This is what we shot beneath that tree. What happened was real.
“And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.”
Something invisible takes a bite of Polina’s shoulder, she wails and falls to the ground.
Then the film abruptly cuts to action shots of her escaping. She is terrified. Running wounded through the forest. The camera is jumpy and chaotic. I soon recognize this segment as the POV shots that Olek took as he ran through the woods on his own. A fern branch brushes past the lens.
I feel a panic attack coming on. I can’t be here. I can’t be in this theater. I get up, and attempt to squeeze by the patrons, but I can’t get past. The film is too loud and the other patrons are literally too glued to the screen to even notice me.
I plonk back down and recognize the cabin. The old lodge cabin we had visited that day. It’s wooden, mossy and dilapidated. With clever angles, it looks like it could be medieval, made in some rural woods, but I know it's modern. This one anachronistic detail is what allows me to breathe.
It is still just a movie. Just a recreation. A farce. This is fake. It's all fake.
But then comes Konrad on screen. Or at least what I know to be the reconfigured body of Konrad. I recognize the shoulders and cheekbones a little, but the rest is all Polina. The audience won't be able to tell.
This Polina walks out to a fire, searching for warmth. And out from the fire … emerges a ten foot demon.
The thing from hell.
Everyone in the theater reels back. Gasps erupt.
The thing that had seared its way into my memory that fateful day. It was what Olek had been trying to capture on screen the whole time.
“I’m not interested in capturing some ghost, or possession.” Olek had told me when he forced me into that circle of cult-members. “No no. I want to catch the uncatchable. The impossible.”
I held the boom unwavering and pointed it at Polina. I could hear the fierce snarls coming out of the fire. Polina shrieked as the small flame erupted into a conflagration, opening some awful portal that never should have been opened. Olek had invited the unthinkable into our plane.
Even now, simply staring at a projection on screen, I am as captivated as I was back then.
It was a cross between a baboon and a boar, except it had flaming tusks, and mouths for eyes. The beast cried out and gored Polina, killing and roasting her.
And because you have cooked and eaten me, I shall rebuke the same.
The sound of her smoldering screech is the last thing I remembered recording.
Now here it was again. An unholy image. Dark magic. Actual footage of a devil on screen. It is horrifying, terrifying, but at the same time … mesmerizing. This one shot of the demon feasting upon Polina is traumatic and real. The audience can inherently feel that something genuine is happening. There is something on screen that is more than just an image. It is impossible to look away.
My heart jumps through my neck, I can feel it in my eyes. This moment on film is the precise cause of all misery in my life. I can’t unsee it. I can’t unhear it.
It is proof that evil is real. That there is something worse than the worst thing you could possibly imagine.
The screen becomes too bright. I feel faint.
—
When I come to, there is riotous applause. The lights in the theater have been turned on, and everyone is now on their feet, giving a standing ovation.
I am confused. Not just because I missed whatever portion of the movie came next, but also genuinely mystified. A full theater standing up, and giving unanimous applause?
I wait to see if it is out of politeness, surely after a minute they will stop. But they do not. The clapping only grows stronger.
I look around and could feel the beguilement. They are enthralled. Hypnotized by what they just saw.
The applause goes on for over fifteen minutes. Eventually the presenter goes back on stage, still continuing to clap, uninterrupting the applause for another ten minutes.
The director appears and holds his hands up high over his head. He closes his eyes. It goes on like this for another five minutes, until finally, after one last set of cheers and whistles, the pandemonium settles down.
“Thank you,” Olek says.
—
Catharsis is not what I felt. This was not the closure I was after. I felt like I had bared witness to something only I knew the true meaning behind, and I didn’t know what to do.
On stage, Olek still wore his signature black trench coat, except this one was hemmed and stylized in a high fashion sort of way. He answered benign questions from the presenter about the location, script and budget, but nothing that cut into the heart of what everyone just saw.
And then when the floor was opened up to audience questions. Everyone continued to shower praise.
“Who did your cinematography? It was beautiful.”
“Where did you find your actors? Unbelievable.”
“How did you pull off those VFX? How?”
Something inside me became livid. I looked around to see if there was anyone as put off as I was. Does no one else know what Olek truly is?
Does no one else know what happened behind the scenes?
I was beside myself. I lifted my hand to ask the next question. But there was a sea of hands, would they even pick me?
Fuck it. If no one is going to say it, then I would. Olek was in the middle of responding to some meager question when I stood up and yelled.
“Murderer! MURDERER! The man on stage is a murderer!”
Patrons within earshot turned to me, the room fell quiet. Even Olek appeared taken aback.
I began to rattle off the names of the Polish teens who went missing, reading from a list I kept in my pocket. “Adrian Kowalski! Paweł Nowak! Martyna Wiśniewska! …” I was probably butchering the pronounciation, but I yelled them anyway.
A security guard started to walk down the aisle, approaching my row. Olek is also approached by some other organizers on stage. He shook his head and grabbed the mic.
“Please do not arrest her! Please do not! This is actually all good to hear.”
I finished hollering the names. Questioning voices swirled around me.
“She is thinking of a tragic event that happened in the Polish film community,” Olek added a fair bit of grief to his voice and took a pause. “A man named Łukasz Dębrowski shot an infamous video in Poland where seven students went missing.” He lifted his hand, “I … was one of those students”
Sharp inhales travelled through the crowd. Several wow’s.
“Yes. It was a traumatic experience, but it was also, for me, revelatory. It was one of the chief inspirations behind this film actually. It is important to remember those who have suffered, so in the future we need not suffer again.”
Audience-members turned to me, looking for my response. But what was I supposed to say? Was Olek lying? Was the real Łukasz actually found and arrested?
Before I could assemble a reply, someone else asked a question, and very quickly I was forgotten. Just another fly on a wall.
Just another attention seeker.
—
Once the doors opened, I squeezed out of my seat and ran outside. I wanted to get as far away from the Polish warlock, as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, with close to two thousand seats vacating—I was trudging through molasses.
To make things worse, as I snailed out the exit funnel, I just so happened to bump into Becca, who was pleasantly surprised to see me. I had no idea she was even at the screening.
I did not want to pause, or mill about in the slightest, but I couldn’t just blow off my partner.
“Anna! Oh my god! I didn’t know you were coming to see Krew! I would have saved you a seat!”
I gave a half-assed excuse about my rave being cancelled, and then finding something else to do. Becca seemed to accept this and then introduced me to some filmie friends she had made recently at a bar. I shook their hands between a river of people.
“We should get a couple drinks!” Becca pointed to the bar across from the coat check. “Everyone’s too busy going to the bathroom. This is the perfect time! Come on!”
I really didn’t want to linger here. I really just wanted to go. But I calmed myself by picturing Olek exiting out the back. Chances are he was leaving like everyone else. I could distance myself by staying.
So despite my reservations, we sat at the bar. I wore my toque and zipped up my jacket. I didn’t want to be recognized as ‘that person at the Q&A’, but as soon as we started talking, I realized that was the last thing on anyone’s mind.
“Could you feel it in the room?”
“You mean, the energy? The magic?”
“I have never watched anything that has made me feel the way that movie does!” Becca held both hands on her head, a smile from ear to ear. “That was insane!”
I nodded and tried to fake a grin. It was easier to pretend I was on the same page, but on the inside, I was dying.
“And that’s the guy?” One of Becca’s new friends asked.
“That’s the guy!” Becca slapped my thigh, stinging it a little. “Anna, you’ll never believe this, but I’ve got some amazing news. You’ll never believe it!”
I knew that Becca had been trying to line up work for spring through a few of her contacts, and she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to jinx it. She had been pining hard for B unit camera op on Yellowjackets …
“Im shooting his next one. I’m officially his next DP!”
“That’s fucking awesome!” The other filmies said, clinking their drinks.
The information passed through me. It didn’t register.
“Isn’t that great Anna?” Becca hovered her martini close to mine.
“Isn't what great?”
“I’m shooting Olek’s next movie. My first art house, I’ve caught my big break!”
I stared at her and tried to cobble together some kind of smile, I tried to cobble together any kind of response at all. I couldn't. “No, you’re not. That’s … what?”
“I know! Crazy right!” She bumped my glass and took a big swig.
I crumpled on the inside. No. Please. This can’t be happening. I mumbled out some paltry congratulations without actually thinking about it. She kissed me on the cheek. Then I whispered to her ear, “You can’t do it. You can never do it. Please don’t.”
“What did you say?” She indicated ‘another round’ to the bartender.
I didn’t have the energy to explain. I needed to get out. I needed to get away from here. Olek could show up without me knowing. He could find me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll … I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
“Anna, are you alright?”
I shrugged and stood up. Then I left completely unceremoniously as our second set of drinks arrived. The filmies swapped confused glances, Becca stood up, but didn’t follow.
“I’ll see you at the hotel?” She called behind my back. I didn’t reply.
—
I was a complete mess on the uber ride back. This is a dream, this can’t be happening. There’s no way any of this is real.
I bolted to our hotel room in a flurry and ran to the sink. I set the water to hot and splashed it onto my face. I set the water to cold and did the same. I alternated like this, over and over.
I wiped my eyes and sat down on the bed, questioning my sanity. I took deep long breaths, emptying my lungs completely before filling them back up. I did this for about five minutes, until I could feel my heart slow down.
I closed my eyes. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe here. You’re gonna be okay.
Then a light breeze tickled across my neck. Which was odd because I did not remember leaving the window open. Did I turn on the AC?
When I looked up, he was there. Leaning against the coat rack.
Olek was in my room.
“What a coincidence,” he said.
I stayed seated on my bed. Said nothing. Enough impossible things had already happened on this night that I refused to even believe he was here.
And yet he was. Leaning on the coat rack.
“Berlin huh?”
I tried to look away, but found it difficult, his gray eyes were locked onto mine now. There wasn’t any sense of menace, or immediate danger. Just a sort of nonchalant observation. Like how a wolf might study a lost fawn.
“Did you enjoy the movie?”
I briefly considered jumping. Running. Doing anything to get out of this situation, but he was blocking the door. I was dealing with someone who could literally apparate. What could I do? What could I even attempt to do?
“You know I had a lot of trouble changing my identity. It was a lot of effort to fix that.” He took a step towards me, and lifted a single finger, pointing it. “Do you want me to fix it again?”
Ice cold dread coursed through my entire body. It felt like I was in that cabin again, shivering in a thin, damp dress. With a lot of effort, I found the ability to speak, and sputtered out what I could. “N-n-no. No. I won't tell anyone. I'll never speak of it again.”
He walked over to the window, closed it, and put his hands in his pockets. “You were the first one I’ve let go. My experiment with mercy, you know?”
Outside was dark, the rain had started to trickle. I could see a few streams sliding down on the window, streaking Olek’s reflection. “Do you like mercy?”
I cleared my throat. Nodded.
“Good. I think your friend will too. I look forward to working with her” He lowered the blinds on the window. Drew the curtains.
“Speaking of mercy. I let Polina go, did you know that?”
My eyes were glued to his own again. I couldn’t look away. My bed had turned into the soiled, rotted cot that I had clung to in that cabin.
“I couldn't keep bringing her back. She was truly depleted. After that last shot … she’s forever gone.”
His dress shoes squeaked one after the other. His black coat tailed behind. In a moment's time Olek had sat beside me on the bed.
Don’t move. Remain steady. Don’t show fear.
“It is very hard to find a new wraith. It needs to be someone who has suffered for a very long time. Someone who is always suffering.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. Patted it once. Twice.
I pictured gunning for the door. I pictured struggling to fend him off. I pictured doing nothing at all.
“You're within reach.” Is all he eventually said.
Then he sighed and stood up, walking calmly back to the door. I had a burst of adrenaline. I was ready to jump forward. To leap on his back. To run screaming towards the window.
But Olek wasn’t even paying attention to me. Instead, he glanced at his phone, and scrolled through some text. Tapped a couple things. After putting it away, he seemed to remember I was still in the room. “There’s a party happening. An underground club. You’re welcome to join if you want.”
I was far beyond a place of shock, and yet somehow this still shocked me. Is He actually inviting me to a club? What in the actual fuck?
He seemed to be able to read my face.
“Suit yourself.”
He turned around the corner out of sight. I could hear the door handle unlock, followed by the latch I put on. With an old creak, the door swung, and in about a dozen footsteps, the czarownik’s presence vanished down the hall.
I ran over and shut everything—applied all locks.
Then I went back and sat down on the bed. Do I call Becca? Do I call the police? Do I call the hotel? … Do I … Did that … actually just happen?
Am I dreaming?
I grit my teeth and eyes, feeling the muscles of my face contract.
Behind my scrunching eyelids I erase everything. This reality. This moment in time. This present universe. Everything’s wiped. This can’t be happening.
After a few minutes I find myself lying on the bed. Unaware if I laid down myself.
I must have just woken up. That’s all.
I’m not entirely convinced, but I pretend that I am.
I pretended it was all a dream.
Pretending is what I’m good at.
Pretending is all I’ve got.
—
—
—
The film shoot in Toronto would go for over a month. Becca said she would send me pictures everyday, of any fun stuff that was happening on set.
I told her she could send me pictures—but nothing of the crew, nothing of the cast, and no equipment, cameras, or anything else. Nothing.
She agreed, and very few pictures were sent.
At work I asked if I could be removed from the Bridge Studios circuit, I didn't want to deliver mail to that district anymore. So my boss transitioned my route to downtown. It was a lot busier, (with a lot less parking) and I couldn't listen to my music as much, but that's okay. At least I was keeping my mind somewhat clear.
Sometimes I would see a news van with a reporter standing outside, and other times I would see twenty-somethings making a student film. Depending on the day, I’d be able to look past it and breeze by, but not always. Sometimes I would get reminded of my boom pole, my headphones, and then get plunged back in.
I would get flashes of the horns, the mouths, the flaming tusks. I would see that thing from hell again. Then I would pull over and spend several hours easing my way out of multiple panic attacks.
It just was what it was.
I pretended it was normal.
I knew that I needed a true distraction. A paradigm shift. Something that could reset my brain away from my fear, unease and vulnerability.
So halfway through Becca’s shoot, I had finally bit the bullet on my credit cards, and signed up. I enrolled at the Digital Music Academy.
—
On the first day, we were each assigned a MIDI keyboard. They looked expensive and brand new. Each MIDI came semi-weighted with a built-in pad controller, and my hands flickered across the keys with ease. It was a very nice feeling.
There were two teachers overseeing twelve students. Both instructors were going to train us exclusively in person for three days a week, over three months. I was allowing myself to get excited.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt excited.
We introduced ourselves, everyone got a minute to explain their favorite genre of music. I said mine was trance-house with pop vocals. Someone recognized one of the more obscure artists I dropped. It felt good.
The older instructor walked around, explaining how we would be using Ableton Live. There was an in-software tutorial that he recommended following alongside his directions, and that today we would be composing a melody with a simple 4/4 beat. The goal was to get familiar with the program.
The younger instructor followed silently, handing out headphones for each of our stations.
That’s when my heart sank.
I tried to ignore the brand, but I couldn’t.
They were Sennheisers. The exact same headphones I had used every day on set. My hands shook. My throat ached. Using all the willpower at my disposal I forced them onto my head. It’s just plastic. It can’t hurt me.
There is no way I can give up on this class.
“Everything alright?” The younger instructor asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah yeah, just trying them on.”
“Good. Try opening our test file.”
Our computers were all given the same demo song to manipulate, it would help us understand how track layers and automations worked. I gave mine a play and recognized it as some 2010’s dance hit.
As a class we analyzed the placement of the drums, treble and bass layers, but I was trying hard to discern what the background vocals were. A choir of children? Seagull calls?
I scanned through the tracks in the software and couldn’t find them. As I delicately pressed the foam cups to my ears, I realized the high pitched sounds were not of kids singing or of birds calling.
It was squealing.
At first it started soft, barely distinguishable from my thoughts, but soon it grew, both in volume and duration. I pulled out the headphone jack. The playback didn’t stop.
The instructor came by and asked if I was okay again. Apparently I was crying.
The squeals turned into screeches, the screeches turned to wails, the wails deepened into thunderous, demonic howls. And somehow overtop of it all came chanting. Dark, harmonic chanting.“ Anna. Annna. Annnnnnn—”
I dropped the headphones onto my neck. and wiped away my tears.
“Yup. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I’m just—I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
I wasn’t, but what did that matter at this point? How could I even begin to scratch the surface of what I was trying to overcome? I had to find joy in something. I had to move on. I would force myself to find joy in this. I pretended to smile.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
The teacher looked into my eyes to try to understand what I was going through, but there’s no way she would. It must’ve been like that moment when I looked at Polina. At her sad, defeated eyes, bearing the weight of something that was impossible to explain.
I was the same as her now. I was just like Polina.
I held my face and started to sob. I couldn’t stop.
—
KONIEC

Lepontic is either a kind of Celtic or very similar to it. Some Lepontic coins have segeθu next to a picture of an owl, others with a stag. This matches OIr seth ‘stag / hawk’ < *segWheti- ‘hunting’, used of hunting animals or animals hunted. Since Celtic *segWhetiyo-s >> G. Hegoúsiai ‘Celtic hunting dogs’, late L. segusius / segutius / etc. ‘hunting dog’, *segwesios > It. segugio, *sebwesios > Sp. sabueso / sabejo, a loan from Celtic or Lepontic seems likely. The Lep. name Segezos is certainly related. This means that *ty could become sounds represented by θ or z in Lep. That these were real sound differences, not just spelling, is shown by other words with various outcomes of *ty, such as y ( pruiam = bruyam ). Below, the same clusters seem to have dialect differences, with the strong possibility that z thus was something like tθ / dð / dz (see zvośoris below for (some?) z being voiced). Similar outcomes in Greek *biwotyo-s > Messapic Blatthes, Cretan Bíaththos, P Blattius Creticus; many IE changed palatals > interdentals (OP and Alb. *k^ > *t^ > th ).
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These sometimes merge with *-st- which often became *-ts- > -s- in other Celtic. That some *-st- were voiced as *-dz- seems needed for *trisres ‘3 fem.’ > Ga. tiđres. The Ga. spellings ds / ðð / ð seem likely to represent dz (or else ts would be used). Knowing if all these always had the same value, if many were tθ or the range tθ / dð / dz, etc., is hard to tell. Thus, the Lep. name Pazros < *paH2stor- ‘feeder / provider / protector / shepherd’, Uvamokozis < *upmHo-ghosti-s ‘greatest host/lord’ might have been pronouned in several ways. That -zr- existed might show -tθr- (since many IE avoid tsr / dzr ).
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A voiced or interdental value for z is required because Lep. ś seems to be used for ts . Many of the words with -ś- are of unknown ety., but in one inscr. there is uinom naśom ‘Naxian wine’ (from Naxos, a place famous for wine). It is likely that *-ksy- could become č, ć or ts, but not that it would also become interdental. This value likely = ts because of other words with -ś (since -ts in IE could come from other sources than palatals ) :
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Inscription of Prestino
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uvamokozis : plialeθu : uvltiauiopos : ariuonepos : siteś : tetu
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Lord Uvamokozis gave (this) standing stone to the U’s and A’s
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It is certain that siteś < *seH1dos / *seH1des- ‘(thing) sitting / seat / mound / stone’ (OIr síde ), since weak -es- could provide -e- in the nom. (though Lep. *-o(C) > -e(C) is possible, see below) so why does it end in -ś not -s ? IE neu. nouns in -os- often have -t- not -s- in weak cases, or alternate :
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*widwo:s, *widwot- ‘having seen / knowing / wise / witness’ > G. eidṓs, eidót-, Go. weitwōds
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*leukos- > Skt. rócas-, *leukot- > Go. liuhaþ, OE léoht ‘light’
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The simplest explanation for this is that *-t- is older. Words like *leukot- formed nom/acc with *-d, creating *leukot-t > *leukost (with *-st > -s in most IE). Preservation of -ts in Lep. would be important in proving this. Also in the aor. with 3sg *-s-t > -s in Skt., etc., but *opes-a:-st > *-ts / *-ks > SPc opsút / opsúq ‘he did/made’ ( st / ts as in Celtic, ts / ks as in G., like *órnīth-s > órnīs ‘bird’, Dor. órnīx ). That both these *-ts are in Italy and the region would show a preservation in one area.
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Since *naksyom > naśom shows that a palatalized C could become ś, it is best to examine other words with possible palatal origin in mind. Other words with ś / s clearly come from PIE *k^, but have not been seen because most think Lep. was exactly like other Celtic. Italic shows languages with satem features also (Whalen, 2024a, b). In the name Esopnos, older *Esponos cognate with Ga. Epona < *H1ek^won- ‘(of) a horse’ is the only option. This *k^w > *c^v > *(t)sp would resemble Ven. :
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Ven. ekupeta-, L. eques, gen. equitis ‘horseman / rider / horse-soldier’ < *H1ek^wet-s
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This happened in other IE for *kw (see *wlkWo- ‘wolf’ >> Paeonian Lúkpeios), so it might show there was intermediate *kp in G. changes of Kw > kWkW / pp (*H1ek^wos > L. equus, G. híppos, Ion. íkkos ‘horse’; *pel(e)k^w- > G. pélekkon ‘ax-handle’). That similar changes might exist in Ven., but not other Italic again shows areal features.
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If I’m right, *g^(h) > *d^ > *z^ / *dz or similar would be needed. Thus, zvośoris on a stout bottle must be < *g^hewd-tri-s ‘vessel for pouring’, related to L. fundere, Go. giutan ‘pour’ (without -t-; G. khútrā ‘earthen pot’, L. fūtile ‘water-vessel used for sacrifices’, Faliscan huticulom ‘water-vessel/pitcher’). Making an assumption that no Lep. word could start with z- has led to this not even being seen as one word (Mees, though zvośoris as one word in https://lexlep.univie.ac.at/wiki/CO%C2%B762_Casate ), which can only lead to folly. This would show dialect differences of *tt > *st / *ts ( > *tθ ) as above. The Celtic *eu > ou would allow :
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*g^hewd-tri-s
*zovttris
*zovtsris
*zovtsoris
*zvotsoris
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Other names like Aśmina must be from *H2ak^men- ‘stone’. There is no other IE word that could give this, and ignoring the obvious ety. for such names should be avoided. Assuming you know all the sound changes before all words are etymologized is not in keeping with the principles of historical linguistics. Since so many names seem very grand-sounding, Lep. Iśos < *H2ik^o-, Skt. īśá- ‘owning/possessing / lord’ seems likely.
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Lepontic Inscriptions
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Ornavasso vase
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latumarui sapsutai-pe uinom naśom
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-pe, L. -que < *kWe
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Sapsuta would be an odd name. Only one IE word fits, *sa(H2)pos- > L. sapor ‘taste’. Since it seems unlikely a vase of tasty Naxian wine would coincidentally be given to a woman named ‘tasty’ this might be a word for ‘taste tester’. Alternatively, if the range in :
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L. sapīre ‘have flavor / taste like / know’, sapiēns ‘wise / knowing / sensible’, OSax. sebbian ‘notice’
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meant that ‘know / recognize / be familiar with / accustomed to’ was old, this could be the word for ‘wife’ (compare *(H)uk- > uxor ). If so, *sapos ‘familiarity’ >> *sapseH1- ‘be familiar with’ with past partiple *sapsuto- (based on *-w- in perfect, as in Latin ).
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“Naxian wine for Latumaros and (his) wife”
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Inscription of Oderzo stone, unearthed in 1960’s
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pazros : pompeteχuaios / kaialoiso
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name pazros = Padzros or Patθros < *paH2stor- ‘feeder / provider / protector / shepherd’
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patronym pompeteχuaios = Pompetegnaios ‘son of Pompetegnos (5th’
reading u for n (or else no IE ety.)
Pompetegnos (5th born)
*pompetos ‘5th’ << *pompe < *pe(H1)nkWe ‘5’
*-gnos << *g^enH- ‘bear / be born’
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family? kaialoiso = Kaialoiso, gen
*-osyo > -oiso
maybe < *kaH2w-ye- ‘burn’, if other *-w- > 0 are true
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Some analysis based on Mees.
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Vergiate funeral stone
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pelkui pruiam teu karite iśos kalite palam
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*Belgui bruyam deu karite itsos kalite balam
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God caused the death of Belgos; Itsos raised his grave
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Simple poem, alliteration of b-; would have 2 lines of 7 syl. if karite itsos pronounced karite’tsos (or e-i > ei )
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Belgui, dat. of Belgos (Celtic people Belgius, war-leader Bólgios, etc.)
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teu = deu ‘god’
*dyeu-s, G. Zeús (*dy- > d- like Lus. dat. Reve < *dyew-ei )
lack of -s in nom. likely from *dyeu-paH2ter having only 2nd part inflected in Lep.).
​
karite ‘he did/made/caused’ < *kareto
Ga. karnitou, Skt. kar-, etc.
​
kalite ‘he raised’ < *kaleto
L. -cellere ‘rise’, Skt. kal- ‘drive’, Li. kelti ‘raise (up)’
​
palam = balam, acc. ‘stone / cairn / grave’ (clear due to substrate pala \ balú in Romance in area)
*gWrHi- > Alb. gur ‘stone’, Skt. girí- ‘mtn.’
i-stems with acc. *-im > *-yam (from C-stem *-am < *-m; many i- and C- mixed in Italic), also in NPc *i-m > *yam+swe > *yamsve > *eazve > eab ‘him(self)’ (Whalen, 2024b)
*ry > *r^ > *l^ > l (few languages had r^, many changed > l^ (like Scythian, Os. ))
​
pruiam = bruyam, acc. ‘death’
L. morti- < *mrti-
i-stems with acc. *-im > *-yam
*ty > *tθy > *θy > *hy > y (or similar path, dialect?)
mr- > br- in most IE ( L., G. )
Celtic had many outcomes of syllabic *r
Celtiberian *kom-sklto- > kon-skilitom shows Vr vs. rV in most Celtic due to older *ër > *ërë (like Iran.)
*r > ru / ur as in Ven. (*mrtwo- > Ven. dat. murtuvoi, L. mortuus ‘dead’; likely Ph. dat. mrotiē ‘dead?’)
This same -ur- vs. normal -ir- exists in Celtiberian: *maH2tr-bhos > matrubos ‘to the mothers (a group of goddesses)’
Celtic words like *kWrtu- > OIr cruth ‘form’, W. pryd, do not require older *ri that is rounded later, but *ër > *ërë > *ïrï with *ï that could become either u or i, usually u near P / W
​
​
Inscription of Prestino
​
uvamokozis : plialeθu : uvltiauiopos : ariuonepos : siteś : tetu
​
Lord Uvamokozis gave (this) standing stone to the U’s and A’s
​
siteś, neu. acc. < *seH1dots / *seH1det- ‘(thing) sitting / seat / mound / stone’ (OIr síde )
​
tetu = dedu: ‘he gave’, aor. < *de-doH3-t
​
Uvamokozis < *upmHo-ghosti-s ‘greatest host/lord’
Uvamo- < *upmHo- ‘highest / greatest’; unlike most Celtic *p- > *f-, > p- in Lep. (too many words with p- to all be from *kW-, ety. from PIE *p- often clear), so only *-p- > *-f-; likely at the edge of this change
​
plialeθu
probably a family name or title
https://lexlep.univie.ac.at/wiki/CO%C2%B748 suggests L. names Pliamnus & Plīnius. Since these came from the area (Mees), this seems likely.
*plH1u- ‘many’ >> *plH1yos- ‘more / great(er)’ > *pliyos- or? weak *plH1w- > *pliw- with loss of *-w- ?
If a compound, *aletyo:n ‘master’, related to Br. aotrou ‘master’ < *al(e)tlon- << *H2al- ‘high / raise/nourish’
Maybe dissim. of *l-l > *l-r in Br., *l-y in Lep.
Instead of *-t- vs. *-ty-, maybe *u > *ü also caused pal. ?
​
-opos = -obos < *-o-bh(y)os, dat. pl.
​
-epos = -ebos < *-e-bh(y)os (analogy in C-stems)
​
https://www.academia.edu/116491699

-This is a copy paste from another sub for archiving purposes on this new sub, if you haven’t seen it before enjoy-
All over the internet I see different variations of “debunks” to uni+ and low-multi Bleach but none of them ever actually work in the context of the series for many reasons. From people claiming “The realms are just planets” to wild takes like “there are no city+ feats in Bleach” (no, actually)
I want to address a lot of the common debunk metas and explain why they aren’t reliable for scaling the cosmology and characters
My scale of the verse has more details and scans/sources if you want to learn more
—Section 1: Establishing the cosmology—
”The realms are planets”
Planetary Bleach is an extremely common downplay meta which operates on the idea that the planets that house the plot are alone in the dimensions but this doesn’t work for multiple reasons
1: Astrology exists in TWOTL (parallel in size to the Soul Society), meaning constellations and the study of stars exist in that dimension
2: Astronauts exist, confirming that humans have left the atmosphere of Earth just like in our reality
3: Mars exists and a “Distant galaxy” is mentioned by Kon
4: Natural stars are visible in the sky of TWOTL and Soul Society
5: Stars cannot exist without the presence of galaxies
6: “Uchu” appears in both novels and the manga, establishing that the universe as a concept exists in TWOTL and Soul Society
7: The cosmology is based on Buddhist myth, where separate universes exist for the living and dead
8: Real world locations, brands, and even celebrities exist in TWOTL proving it is a facsimile of our reality which would include size
9: Muken exists in Soul Society which is infinite in size (we will come back to this)
10: “Wakusei”, the Japanese word for “Planet”, has never been used to describe the dimensions, even out of context
Sources: Astral bodies, Universes, Infinite dimensions, parallel realms, Real World, stars in galaxies
”People call the realms Sekai, Sekai means world, world means planetary”
This one confuses me because it doesn’t track in English OR Japanese so idek how this misconception started
“World” in English can mean anything as small as someone or something you care about (e.g; “He/She is my world”) to something as large as “everything that exists everywhere” so that doesn’t disprove universal+ Bleach
In Japanese, which is the origin language of Bleach, “Sekai” can mean either “World” (in a planetary context), “Society”, or “Universe” depending on the context. We have already established that more exists in the realms than just the planets the plot takes place on so that leaves “Universe” as the only definition to make sense when referring to the dimensions themselves which actually supports universal+ Bleach
Damningly, the japanese word for planet “Wakusei” is never used in reference to the realms themselves, which corroborates the CFYOW line “if the soul society and world of the living could be likened to planets…”
Sources: Definitions
”Muken isn’t infinite, it is almost infinite”
This one is brought up often and is based entirely on either…
1: A fanslation saying it is “almost infinite” even though the Kanji for “almost” (略) or any of its variants are absent from the raws
2: The 13 blades databook saying Muken deludes you into thinking it is infinite, a book with no involvement from Tite that is known for its errors (it also has hellverse content and refers to hell as a multiverse, so insisting on taking canon content from it opens a can of worms that puts Vasto Lorde Ichigo at Multiversal)
Meanwhile a (Tite involved) Databook as well as Author POV from CFYOW (canon novel) refer to the Muken as infinite and even more damningly the new anime adaptation (supervised by Tite) uses the translation referring to it as infinite as well
But since I wanted to go ahead and put this one to bed (and because I am petty as fuck) I decided to hire a translator to look at the panel in question and their interpretation was unsurprising (linked in “translations” below). And as one final nail in this I asked a community member (who is an unbiased 3rd party who doesn’t scale Bleach) who does translations to look at it (also below)
Sources: Translations, Tite involvement
How would souls disappearing from Earth cause an imbalance that would destroy a universe?
I’m always surprised to see how many people treat this as some sort of slam dunk against uni Bleach scaling when it is entirely based around “that seems unlikely” but people still treat it as irrefutable evidence that the realms are planets against all other proof of their being more to the realms
We are never once in the series told the mechanics of how this works, just that it does, so we don’t actually know how this affects the dimensions and causes a collapse. Saying “it doesn’t make sense” when we aren’t given anything to make sense of is redundant and doesn’t hold weight in scaling the size of the realms (Not to mention pure Personal Incredulity fallacy)
Toshiro says “Hoshi” (Meaning celestial body) to refer to the world of the living and Soul Society
Saw this used in a controversial debunk on this sub (you know who you are), and while in a vacuum this sounds pretty concrete the moment you put it in context it immediately falls apart;
1: The world of the living (Dimension), The World of the Living (Planet), Soul Society (Dimension), Soul Society (Planet), and Soul Society (Place) are all different things. It can vary based on context and can mean just the individual planets or the realms as a whole with all stars and other astral bodies
2: The context of the statement itself is that a “tunnel” has become visible directly over the Seireitei and Karakura Town, which would be the closest points between the parallel realms, the “tunnel” isn’t making the entire Soul Society dimension visible from the entire WOTL dimension, it is just connecting Karakura town and the Seireitei.
So it isn’t connecting the entire dimensions, just from Earth to the Soul Society planet, which is why “Hoshi” would make more sense in this context than saying “Sekai” or “Uchu” which would imply a far larger area
Sources: Different definitions, Hoshi statement and tunnel
In memories of nobody Mayuri’s monitor shows the realms as 2 spheres on the same plane
This one should be obvious but I see it brought up anyway so why not tackle it
Mayuri’s monitor is pretty obviously a representation of the events taking place, not an actual monitor of what is happening because;
1: It isn’t like Mayuri installed a camera out in the Garganta
2: Any time we have seen the inside of the garganta you can’t see the realms, just the void until a gate is opened
3: The valley of Screams, which is the dimension that got between the two realms and is the driving plot device for the movie, is not present on the monitor, just the explosions in the Dangai
Sources: Garganta, Monitor
Dangai isn’t 4D/The realms aren’t separate space times
Putting these under one point to save space
The dangai has literally been called a Hyperspace point blank before, but on a more logical level it wouldn’t be possible for it to exist as a 3d mode of transportation meaning it has to function on a 4th axis or dimension which would constitute a hyperspace. It is also cut off from the space and time of TWOTL and SS but has its own unique flow of time which would constitute it’s own spacetime continuum
The World of the Living and Soul Society are separated by the Dangai and Garganta which are cut off from space and time, traveling through the Dangai can put you on a completely separate time axis in the other realm
Sources: Hyperspace, Dangai
—Section 2: What does this mean for AP?—
There are no city+ feats
This one is actually ridiculous, city level attacks and blocking those same attacks is a no-sell feat in Bleach, this isn’t even mentioning higher tier feats like the meteor or Ichigo blowing up mountains in the distance with the air displaced by his sword swings
Sources: City, Meteor, Mountains
Kurohitsugi isn’t a black hole just because it warps time and space
Of everything I am going to address here this one is probably the most valid debunk simply because there isn’t much compelling evidence on either side but I believe the intention is for Kurohitsugi to be a box containing a black hole and I will tell you why.
Back in the early 2000’s when this chapter was written black holes were still almost entirely theoretical to scientists of the world much less the general public. Aizen describes it as a well of gravity so dense it warps time and space which coincidentally is exactly how you would describe a black hole, since that is all we knew about them at the time and Kurohitsugi literally translates to “Black Coffin”. I believe the intention was a box containing a black hole, which would mean it has black hole durability and thus Ichigo breaking it apart would put him on that level (anywhere between solar and galaxy).
This isn’t unreasonable when considering the feats of characters below Aizen and therefore Ichigo at this point, Aizen before several stages of reactive evolution walked through the captains of the Gotei 13, only fearing Yamamoto who was capable of defeating Rroyd wielding 80% of Yhwach’s power. A galaxy level feat like black hole survival wouldn’t be out of the question for a character who surpasses Aizen here
And to the people who say “everything warps time and space at least a little” my question would be “why would Tite specifically point out Kurohitsugi’s ability to do this if it is so unremarkable?”
Sources: Kurohitsugi
Yhwach was only going to destroy the cosmology by removing the linchpin
This was the initial plan, but after absorbing the Soul King we see him destroying the realms with his own power. We know he is entirely capable of doing this because…
1: He gaps Senjumaru who could shake the cosmology with her sword release alone (Gerard who was fighting on level with other Squad 0 members capable of this had to go through multiple levels of reactive evolution to be on base Yhwach’s level which would be far below SK absorbed Yhwach)
2: His dead body still had enough residual energy to do the same job as the linchpin that was holding the cosmology together
3: Not only did he kill the linchpin soul king meaning he also has enough energy to have an effect on the realms (via reishi negation rules) but he immediately after no-diff absorbed Mimihagi which also had the power to hold the realms in place, boosting his power even further
Besides, what are we saying for phase 2 of his plan which would be reforming the 3 realms into a primordial world? That would require the same level of AP and it is the very thing all of the protagonists are fighting to prevent happening. Are we saying Yhwach isn’t capable of the sole thing Tite wrote the arc around him doing? He would have to survive the collapse of the 3 realms to accomplish this.
Sources: Yhwach, Senjumaru, Mimihagi, Gerard
Why don’t we see many higher tier feats?
Characters in Bleach have no reason to want to destroy the planets themselves (I went into more detail in my scale linked at the top), feats are expressed elsewhere as a result like Gremmy creating a space with multiple galaxies and then immediately dying because he couldn’t contain the level of power Kenpachi possessed after trying to copy his strength (This Kenpachi is far stronger than he was when he was destroying the Garganta in his fight with Cien). Once Yhwach absorbs the soul king he immediately starts destroying the entire cosmology which has been established as multiple universes
Sources: Gremmy, Garganta, Gremmy Defeat
Candice says 5 gigajoules should kill Ichigo, that is only city level
You mean the 5 gigajoules attack that Ichigo turns towards and tanks, taking literally 0 damage at all? Why even try to use numbers for an attack as a durability/AP anti-feat when Ichigo uses it to make a point that they can’t hurt him? All this does is prove he can’t be harmed by city-level attacks, not that he is barely above city level
Sources: Candice
—Section 3: Okay, but how fast are they?—
”Gin’s bankai is Mach 500”
Gin says his bankai is only Mach 500 but we know that he lied about this (he literally says so to Aizen and the databooks also outline this) and that the actual ability is poison based making his statement inadmissible. We have definitive speed feats that contradict this too; as an example Shunsui (who isn’t a captain notable for speed and is in Gin’s spirit class meaning they should be comparable) was dodging Lille Barro’s attacks from a prone position and they are literally attacks using the light reflected from his eyes, not even mentioning the times people far under them were dodging light beams
The plethora of counter evidence shows this as an intended lie by Gin at most logical and a clear anti-feat at worst (every verse has them, Archie sonic being hurt by an anvil, The Flash being shot with a gun, Goku being hurt by a bullet, Naruto being hurt by a knife, etc)
Sources: Gin, Shunsui
”Databook says they are only lightning speed”
Still baffling that DeathBattle steelman’d this to downplay Aizen’s speed when it makes no sense to do so.
When the databook refers to Byakuya and Ichigo fighting as “like lightning” it should be obvious that this is a statement meant to sound cool, it was not intended for actually scaling their speed
I think it would be interesting to see how quickly downplayers would point out this wasn’t intended for scaling if their general consensus for speed was lower than lightning
Source: Databook
Spiritual light isn’t guaranteed to be as fast as actual light so you can’t calc it
This one is extremely obvious straw grasping, we are never actually given a reason to believe this beyond it helping fit the narrative that Bleach characters are sub-FTL
Candice’s arrow is stated to be slower than lightning
Ah look, Candice again. In the fight in question Candice says her arrow is slower than lightning, an arrow that a base Ginjo says in the same fight is pitifully slow. A more powerful version of Ginjo stole Ichigo’s fullbring and activated Bankai and was still getting literal circles run around him by Ichigo in Bankai (still nerfed by Yhwach and combat pass, pre RG training), losing to an insane speed blitz
She never hits someone with this attack in a fight and a relatively slow character calls it a slow attack. I’m surprised this one gets pushed as often as it does
Sources: Candice, Blitz
—The End—
Thanks for the read, I am almost guaranteed to update this occasionally as I see more common metas
Credits for scans or support: u/Eren-Yeager-69420, u/Ninja-Yatsu, u/Low_Scientist_1859, u/Cashmelee

Welcome to This Week In KPOP, a collection of everything you may have missed during the past week on kpop.

February 3, 2024 - February 9, 2024

TOP 10 STORIES

#	Votes	Thread	Comments
1	(+2933)	2NE1 reunite in newly shared photo	58 comments
2	(+1342)	Blackpink’s Lisa announces new management company “lloud”	216 comments
3	(+1223)	LE SSERAFIM members Kim Chaewon, Sakura, and Kazuha are set to appear on 'Running Man'	75 comments
4	(+1222)	Donatella Versace has announced that NingNing of aespa joins Versace as a Global Brand Ambassador	59 comments
5	(+1063)	HYBE And Lee Soo Man Looking To Acquire SM Entertainment Again, According To Industry Insiders	288 comments
6	(+1050)	THE BLACK LABEL Confirms Plans For Girl Group Debut In First Half Of 2024	242 comments
7	(+1052)	"Do not touch" by MISAMO (TWICE MINA, SANA & MOMO) becomes their 1st MV to reach 100 million views	16 comments
8	(+1043)	SM to debut British K-pop boy group	285 comments
9	(+1031)	Red Velvet’s Irene Renews Contract With SM Entertainment	64 comments
10	(+951)	(G)I-DLE Soyeon & Choi Yena to be reportedly featured in BIBI’s upcoming Single ‘Sugar Rush’ Music Video	17 comments

TOP ANNIVERSARIES

#	Votes	Thread	Comments
1	(+658)	Happy 17th Debut Anniversary to SUNMI !	19 comments
2	(+652)	Happy 2nd Anniversary to VIVIZ!	18 comments
3	(+459)	Happy 12th anniversary to SPICA!	14 comments
4	(+339)	Happy 4th anniversary to cignature!	23 comments
5	(+213)	Happy 12th Anniversary to Ailee!	1 comments

TOP 10 PERFORMANCES

#	Votes	Thread	Comments
1	(+346)	[Live] (G)I-DLE Minnie, Bang Yedam, NMIXX Lily (Host: Lee Mujin) - Episode, I AM (IVE), That's Hilarious (Charlie Puth), Confetti (Tori Kelly) + Eyes, Nose, Lips (Taeyang) + Leave The Door Open (Bruno Mars, Anderson .Paak, Silk Sonic) @ Leemujin Service Episode 100 (240206) [ENG SUB]	26 comments
2	(+171)	[Song Cover] (G)I-DLE - Abracadabra (orig. Brown Eyed Girls) @ KBS The Seasons: Lee Hyori's Red Carpet (240202)	3 comments
3	(+161)	[Song Cover] Wendy - Fine (orig. Sunwoo Jun-A) @ Song Stealer (240209)	8 comments
4	(+156)	[Performance] (G)I-DLE - Super Lady (M2 Relay Dance)	0 comments
5	(+150)	[Song Cover] Yuju - To. X (orig. Girls' Generation / SNSD Taeyeon) (Live Clip)	14 comments
6	(+143)	[Performance] tripleS Aria - Door (Band Live ver.) (MDL it’s LIVE)	6 comments
7	(+136)	[Song Cover] fromis_9 Lee Seoyeon - Don't Come Back (orig. Heize) (Genie Music Ear Catching Song Live Clip)	3 comments
8	(+95)	[Song Cover] NMIXX Haewon - 3D (orig. BTS Jungkook feat. Jack Harlow) @ Begin Again Open Mic (240205)	3 comments
9	(+94)	[Performance] (G)I-DLE - Super Lady (M2 Performance37 - Full Shot Ver.)	0 comments
10	(+85)	[Live] NMIXX - Run For Roses @ SBS Radio - Cultwo Show (240206)	0 comments

TOP 5 DANCE CHALLENGES

#	Votes	Thread	Comments
1	(+309)	TWICE Sana (with NMIXX Sullyoon) - I GOT YOU (Dance Challenge) (240203)	8 comments
2	(+132)	TWICE Nayeon & Jihyo - I GOT YOU (Dance Challenge) (240203)	1 comments
3	(+127)	(G)I-DLE Yuqi (with Red Velvet Seulgi) - Super Lady (Dance Challenge) (240208)	1 comments
4	(+86)	MAMAMOO Moonbyul - Think About (Dance Challenge) (240208)	10 comments
5	(+85)	Choi Yena (with (G)I-DLE Yuqi) - Good Morning (Dance Challenge) (240203)	0 comments

TOP DISCUSSIONS / FEATURES

#	Votes	Thread	Comments
1	(+32)	/kpop Top Ten Tuesdays Results: Blackpink (2024)	6 comments
2	(+18)	What Are You Listening To? - February 07, 2024	3 comments

MUSIC SHOWS

Date	Performances	Discussion Thread	Winner
20240203	Music Core	Thread	IU
20240204	Inkigayo	Thread	IU
20240206	The Show	No Broadcast.	No Winner.
20240207	Show Champion	Thread	(G)I-DLE
20240208	M!Countdown	Thread	(G)I-DLE
20240209	Music Bank	No Broadcast.	IU

 

NEW RELEASES

Day	Artist	Album Title	Type	Music Video	Streaming
3rd	SUPER JUNIOR-L.S.S.	C'MON	digital single	C'MON	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
4th	Ailee	One Day	+memory project re:newal remake single	One Day (orig. Mika Nakashima)	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	YOUNG POSSE	YOUNG POSSE UP	digital single	YOUNG POSSE UP (feat. Verbal Jint, NSW yoon, Token)	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
5th	ICHILLIN'	DEMIGOD	pre-release single	DEMIGOD	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	EPEX	Graduation Day	pre-release single	Graduation Day	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	P1Harmony	Killin' It	full-length album	Killin' It	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
6th	TWICE	I GOT YOU (Voyage ver.)	remix album	I GOT YOU (feat. Lauv)	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
7th	Billlie	Knock-on Effect	Japanese mini album	DOMINO ～ butterfly effect - Japanese ver. -	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	Choi Yena (ex-IZ*ONE)	DNA	Japanese single album	DNA	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	KELT9b	GetYa	pre-debut digital single	GetYa	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	Seo Jayeong	to me	digital single	to me	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	DK (iKON)	LTNS	solo debut pre-release single	LTNS	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	Lim Kim	ULT	digital single	ULT	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
	Woo Jinyoung (ex-D1CE)	Don't Worry Be Happy	mini album	Closer	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
8th	SUPER JUNIOR-L.S.S.	JOKE	digital single	JOKE	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music
9th	MAX (feat. Huh Yunjin (LE SSERAFIM))	STUPID IN LOVE	digital single	STUPID IN LOVE	Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube Music

"This Week in KPOP" Archive