I'm a 21 year old male and I've been chronically, severely depressed since I was 13, felt hopeless about the future for about just as long, have diagnosed ADHD and executive dysfunction, have had a SEVERE edging addiction to porn in which I edge for 8-10 hours straight every other day or two since I was 17 years old, literally CANNOT get dopamine from ANYTHING in life besides watching porn and edging (no exagerrations), am a NEET, have no energy ever, have absolutely no sex drive in the slightest despite the fact that I'm 21 and should be the most energetic and horny that I'll be in my ENTIRE LIFE, have absolutely no friends and haven't ever really had any in my entire life, have no family members except for my parents (really just my Mom, I only see my Dad 3-4 times a year for 2 days per visit), am significantly underweight (I'm 5'11 and 137 LBS), have extremely bad flat feet, never "feel like a man," live as sedentary of a lifestyle as humanly possible, have the worst possible sleep schedule (I go to bed at 9 AM and wake up at 4 PM because why the fuck not), significant lack general life skills, am severely lonely, have no social life, no job, dropped out of college, have only $0 in my savings account and $0 in my checking account, have no drivers license (or even a learner's permit), have never even hugged a girl before, let alone been on a date, kissed, or had sex with one, and have zero good life memories, not even in grade school as the school I went to was awful in so many ways.
Where do I even start man? Shit's crazy. I didn't even know it was possible for somebody to have this many significant problems at once. I will never kill myself because of my fear of death, but life is just miserable and awful with no end in sight, ever.
Just, wow. Any advice on how to start fixing my life? Is it even possible for me to fix it?

Amidst the relentless siege of daily strife, I seek a whisper of relief, a slice of life Where burdens ease and shadows lightly fall, A moment's peace to soothe the soul's call.
Each day a labyrinth of silent screams, Where hope dwindles and despair gleams. With every breath, a desperate plea, For a respite, a pause, a chance to flee.
The weight of existence crushes bone and will, Invisible forces bending me to their ill. I yearn for a break in the clouds overhead, A patch of blue, a sunbeam's thread.
The grinding gears of routine grind too much, Each task, each duty, cold to the touch. How I long for the softness of an easier way, A gentle night, a lighter day.
In the clutter of thoughts that clutter my mind, I search for a clearing, a space to find A breath of calm amidst the storm's rage, A sentence of peace on life's crowded page.
Desperation grows like a fire wild, Burning within me, fierce and unfiled. It consumes my patience, my resilience, my core, Leaving ashes of anguish, an internal war.
Oh, for a draught of cooling rain, To wash away this searing pain. Oh, for a touch, a word, a sign, To ease this existence, make it benign.
Is there no balm in Gilead, no ease in sight? Must my days be battles, my nights a fight? How desperate my heart for a drop of relief, A moment of silence, however brief.
So I wait in the shadows, watching, worn, For the herald of relief, the breaking morn. Desperate for a change, for a tide that will lift, The burdens I carry, the ultimate gift.

This is the first time I have written something of this length, and is more of an exercise in self-therapy than anything else. Disclaimer: This story contains conversations about child abuse. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it.
Nathan’s number appeared on my phone screen. I debated whether or not to answer it. We hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while, and while we did keep in touch sporadically, it was usually because of important family issues. I didn’t know of anything happening with mom or dad, nor with Talia or Rio, so I let it go to voicemail. I could always call him back later. I placed the phone back in my pocket, and returned to cleaning my camera. The phone buzzed again. A text message came through. I read the preview line from the home screen. “The city declared eminent domain on the house” I unlocked my phone, read the full text message, and dialed my brother.
I wasn't able to get any closer to the house than a few blocks. Most of the area was blocked off with chain link fencing and construction equipment in preparation for the demolition that was supposed to take place within the coming days. The barriers didn’t prevent people from walking in to the neighborhood, but it hindered scrappers from coming in and stripping the houses of copper wiring and plumbing.
I grabbed my camera bag out of the trunk of my car along with my tripod. I shouldered it and hooked the tripod to my bag. I pulled my water bottle out of the center console and shut the door. I stood next to my car surveying the neighborhood. 12 city blocks of old single family homes comprised the neighborhood where I grew up. Some of the houses had been empty for months, others for years. There was an eerie silence that permeated the still air. I could not hear the familiar sounds of people, pets, or cars. I locked the car and put my keys in my pocket. I patted my jacket down to ensure I had what I needed. After a quick check, I started my walk.
The sidewalk of the old neighborhood streets still bore the familiar cracks and grind marks from years of buckling and remedy. Leaves dropped by the trees still lay scattered all along the pathways and sidewalk. Korina’s house was the first house I encountered as I made my way through a gap in the fence. The yard was overgrown with tall grass and thistle. I could see the faded blue paint of the old house contrasting the green and browns of the lawn. The chain link fence that marked off the corner property was nearly invisible through the thick brush. As I continued walking west towards 110th, I started to feel something was off. The streets seemed wider than I remembered. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but eventually I realized what was different. There were no cars.
The streets here typically had cars lined bumper to bumper in any spot available, and were visible from block to block. The absence of all these vehicles made me realize just how deserted the neighborhood really was. House after house, yard after yard, the telltale signs of desertion reinforced what I could see from the moment I passed the construction fence: This was no longer my neighborhood. There were no signs of life, and no one I could expect to find still here. Abandonment was the new normal here. I continued on, glancing at houses and recalling memories of summer bike rides, and daily walks with dogs I used to have. I remembered walks home from school, and chasing after ice cream trucks when they passed our houses. I smiled a bit as I remembered more and more of my years spent here. I don’t quite know just why I was smiling. There were plenty of bad memories here too. Fights, yelling, being beat up, being robbed. I could remember failed friendships, lost loves, and bitter feelings of failures too.
Still, I felt a certain amount of nostalgia despite the weight of these negative feelings. I almost wanted to experience everything again, although I wasn't sure why I was feeling this way. Concrete, asphalt, billboards and liquor stores were the normal vistas of everyday life. Occasionally, after a good rainstorm, the grey haze of smog would lift, and the mountains would be visible to the north. At least, they would be visible until mid-morning when the exhaust from a million cars covered them behind a veil of pollution.
It wasn’t until the first time I travelled out of the city that I realized there was more to see. Traveling up the coast north along the Pacific Coast Highway introduced me to scenes of deep blue ocean water spanning the width of my vision. Driving up Highway 3 introduced me to the permeating scent of Pine and Fir trees. The two-lane stretch of highway from Portland to Tillamook introduced me to lush green forests that I had only ever read about. When I came home to the same old dirty, dusty concrete and boiling summer asphalt, I had made up my mind. I would do everything it took to leave this place. I would not spend another day longer than was necessary living in cramped quarters and fighting for parking space.
I arrived to the house, and paused at the gate. The house sat in contrast of what the rest of the neighborhood looked like. Instead of overgrown grass and tall weeds all over the place, the landscaping showed signs of relatively recent work. The guava tree in the front lawn still had some fruit ready to be picked, and the avocado tree on the other side of the pathway was still weighed down by its own fruit. Flowers still bloomed in the raised bed in front of the house. My brother had clearly tried to keep up on things until the last possible moment. The house, too, looked better than what I expected after walking up 4 blocks and seeing nothing but dilapidated houses and unkempt yards. I opened the gate and walked up to the small porch. The metal gate that enclosed it was gone having been removed by my brother when he took over the property. It looked nice to see it open instead of the cage it once felt like.
I turned the knob on the door, but it didn't give. Ever a creature of habit, my brother had locked the door when he left. Of course, he did. I sighed and prepared to find another way in when I remembered my parents hiding a spare key. I wasn’t sure if it would still be there, but after running my hands along the back side of the gutter downspout, I was rewarded for my efforts. I unlocked the front door and stepped into the front living room, the sounds of my footsteps and the closing door echoing in the empty space. The room felt both larger and smaller than I remembered it. I suppose it was lack of furniture that made it feel larger, but it still felt smaller than I remember. The result of growing taller throughout the years I suppose. I slowly walked along the slate tile floor towards the central hallway that connected the front of the house to the back bedrooms. I wasn't entirely sure that just because the front door was locked, that there wasn't some squatter looking for a little temporary shelter within the back rooms. I carefully and silently crept step by step towards what used to be the bedroom shared by my sister and me. I stuck my head in and gave the room a cursory glance. It was empty, thankfully. I moved back into the hallway and peered into the bedroom across the hall. This is where both of my brothers had shared a room. It too, was empty save for a few boxes holding hardware and doorknobs from the closet doors of the bedroom. I walked back towards the back of the house where my parent's bedroom was. The walls in the hallway bore the dusty signs where picture once hung. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside, and looked around. The old avocado paint that my mom had picked out years ago still adorned the walls. Walking further towards the addition that was the small room my grandma and grandpa lived in showed that there was no one here. I breathed a sigh of relief as I set my bag down and set up my tripod. I reached into my bag a pulled out an envelope of old photos. These were old snapshots that we had all taken at some point in time in the house. There were pictures of all of us sitting at the dining room table playing a game of Monopoly. There was a picture of my brother and sister sitting on a couch in the front living room. There was a picture of me hanging on the bars of the front porch. I looked through them all and held them in place in front of me as if I were holding a window to the past.
Each picture made the lump in my throat grow as I started to struggle to control my emotions. There was history here, and soon it would all be gone. This is the place where my parents had raised four kids. They had taken care of my grandparents in their twilight years here. My Aunt and my grandmother had both died in this house. Birthdays, graduation parties, and anniversaries had been celebrated here. The echoes of life had reverberated within the walls of this place. Now, the house sat silent. It would never again know happy screams of kids having a water-balloon war out in the front yard, nor would it hear the cries of anguish as the matriarch of the family passed away surrounded by her family. What once was a home full of life was now just an empty house made of drywall and paint. I sat there for a moment contemplating just how much family history was actually made here. As I thought hard about my siblings and my parents, I felt pained at the thought of our strained relationships. We had all scattered once we had the opportunity to be free of each other. My oldest brother had married and moved away as soon as possible. My sister now lived in northern California. My parents too had moved away. I was now living in Utah. Only my older brother had remained behind. The lump grew larger in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I held back sobs of anger and pain. Why was I hurting? Hadn’t I dealt with these issues already? I walked back to my old bedroom and sat down under the window. I pulled my head down into my knees and cried. I could hear yelling and screaming in my head. Shouting matches between siblings and parents, brothers and sister, rattled inside my brain, making the pain grow. I sat there and cried. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Eventually I ran out of tears and tired gasps of sorrow and regret washed over me as a blanket of drowsiness enveloped me. I leaned my head back and fell asleep.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing and hurriedly stood up. Had someone followed me? I knew the police were patrolling the area sporadically. Had they seen me enter the house? I knew there would be a possibility of getting a trespassing citation, but I figured I could either talk my way out of it seeing as to how I was a former resident, or I could probably fight the citation in court if the judge knew why I was there in the first place. Ultimately, passing through the gate had been a calculated risk that I was willing to take for the sake of my art. I got up from my corner of the room and moved towards the door. If there was someone in the house, I needed to know. I didn’t want my gear to stolen, and if there was a cop in the house, I wanted to ensure I didn’t get shot.
I was greeted by the sight of a startled chubby boy standing on the other side of the door. His round cherubic face was crowned by a head of short curly hair. His hazel green eyes stared widely back at me. He clearly didn’t expect someone to be here in the house. His body recoiled in fear as he cowered back towards the hallway. “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked as non-threateningly as I could. The boy muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you” I replied. “Are you here to rob us?” he timidly responded. “Rob you? What are you talking about?” I asked as confusion set in. “What are you doing here?” It was his turn to be confused. “Uh…I….live here?” he replied. “What do you mean you live here? No one lives-“I stopped midsentence. I hadn’t noticed in my initial shock but the room wasn’t the same. A familiar blue couch caught the corner of my eye. In front of that was an old console TV with a partially broken antenna hanging on the wall behind it. I walked further in to the living room to notice wood paneling on the walls. A large mirror hung on the wall to my left. Familiar yellow lamps sat on round drop-leaf tables on either side of the couch. A large hutch sat in one corner, a collection of letters and bills, mail advertisements, and a phone book covered scattered over it. “What just happened?” I asked out loud to no one in particular. I was thoroughly mystified by what my eyes were seeing. I had walked into the house from the front door and had stepped into an empty white room with slate floor tiles, but somehow now found myself in a furnished room with brown carpet that was all so familiar to me, yet was nothing but a distant faded memory. I turned to look at the boy still startled by the intrusion of a strange man looking wildly around the room in total shock.
“You can take what you want, just please let me go. I don’t want problems.” He stated his voice still shrill with anxiety. I blinked a few times as I tried to process just what the heck was going on. I gathered my thoughts as best I could and tried to reassure him. “Kid, I’m not here to rob anyone. I was just-“I shook my head “Where the hell am I? Am I having a dream?” I asked myself. “I must be dreaming. I’m just tired and still sleeping. This is all a dream. Yeah, that’s it.” I needed to sit down. Being back in the old house must have overtaxed my senses, I told myself. I’d having a dream about an old memory. I walked over to the chair next to the couch and sat down. I sunk into it and rested my head back towards the wall.
The boy kept his distance, but sensed I wasn’t there to hurt him. He looked me over with anxious curiosity. He stood at the far end of the couch, examining me while he played out scenarios in his head in preparation for a quick exit. “Why are you in my house?” he asked me. “Dude, this is all just a dream I’m having. I’m not really here.” He reached over to the couch and picked up a pillow. He reared his arm and threw it at me. It landed in my lap. “I don’t know, man. You sure seem to be here.” He said to me. I opened my eyes, startled. I looked down at the pillow he tossed and examined it. I ran my hand over the fabric and felt its texture. I remember this pillow. This was the pillow I would roll under my head as I lay on the couch and watched TV as a kid. A sudden realization hit me as I looked around the room with fresh eyes. No longer was I blinded by the fog of confusion. I knew exactly where I was.
I was home.
I looked at the boy still standing at the edge of the couch. I looked him over and realized who he actually was. I stared in disbelief as I smiled and tried to put him at ease. “It’s ok Johnny. I’m not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Please, sit down” I told him. I motioned to his end of the couch. “Who are you, and why are you here?” he asked me.
“This will be hard to believe, but I’m you” I said with an incredulous tone, “I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I’m here.” He looked at me as I had grown a second head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could you be me? Did we invent time travel? Oh! Are we secret government agents with the CIA?”
I chuckled. “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s start at the beginning. I’m you at 38 years old. You’re…what, 11… 12 years old? It makes sense. I fell asleep under the window in my- our old bedroom. I didn’t come here on purpose or in a machine. And no, I’m not a government agent.” His face contorted to display understanding, disappointment and finally suspicion. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards me. “How do I know you’re really me?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment. How could I prove to him that I was who I said I was? A few seconds of silence settled between us. I stroked my chin, thinking of a solution.
“I have a better idea. Ask me questions that only you know the answers to.” “Okay” he responded. He glanced around the room trying to come up with something. His eyes fixated on the Nintendo sitting under the TV cabinet. “What game do me and Nathan have a map of?” I looked over at the NES. I hadn’t thought about this for years, but I knew instantly what he was asking. “YOU don’t have anything. Nathan is the one that made the map for Section Z” His jaw dropped. He tried to trick me, but his plan failed. He knew well and good that Nathan never let him play. It was always ‘I’ll let you play when I die’ or, ‘you can play when I’m done’. The problem was that he never followed through. Usually by the time Nathan was done, the NES was overheated, and the game would no longer load until it cooled down. By that point, it was time for bed.
“How do you know that?” he asked in astonishment. “I know these things because I’m you. Just like I know that you wear t-shirts to the pool because you’re embarrassed by what others will think of your body. I know that you used to think that people that die off in movies were prisoners that were set to be executed from death row, so they used them for making movies. I know all about you because I’m you”
Johnny sat on the end of the couch in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He had never told anyone any of this. He didn’t have any close friends to talk to about such things, and those friends he did have were more acquaintances than friends. There was only one way he could possibly know these things. He was talking to his future self.
I could see Johnny’s mind completely explode. There lay endless possibility and the answers to a million questions he could ask about his own future. He started to ask a question, only to stop, close his mouth, and try asking another. I knew if he kept this up he would have a stroke or something. “Dude, calm yourself. Let’s talk this out rationally, otherwise you’ll end up stroking out or something.” I told him. He took a deep breath and I could hear him muttering quietly. I knew he was trying to form a coherent sentence before he actually spoke it. I did it all the time. “Ok, first of all, are we rich?” he asked with tempered expectation. I chuckled and grinned back at him. “No, not at all. If I was rich, would I be dressed like this?” I replied as I motioned to my beat up brown Vans and worn out jeans and T-shirt. “We-, I – make enough to get by. I’m not poor, but I earn enough to pay the bills.” His face grew a smirk as he commented “Yeah, I figured. What do I do for work? I mean, what do you do for work?” I thought about it for a second. I wondered how much information I should divulge to a younger me. I still didn’t think this whole situation was really happening, but if it was, I probably should proceed with caution. “Well, it’s complicated. I do a little bit of everything. You know how you’re constantly taking things apart? Let’s just say that it’s good to put them back together in order to keep them working. Take good notes on paper if you need to, and make sure you have a clean work area so you can keep track of all the parts.” He gave me a sheepish look. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I had spent countless hours sneaking dad’s tools to my room so I could figure out how something was built and try to figure out how it worked. I had gotten myself into some pretty bad trouble with dad over a drill, his timing light, and other stuff I had taken from his room. His belt had become quite familiar with my butt cheeks.
I gave him a knowing smile. “What else do you want to know?” He thought about it for a second. “Do we have a girlfriend?” I laughed, probably a little more than I should have because his face contorted into a sour frown. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it” he scowled. I continued to chuckle. “Yeah we have a girlfriend. We have more than a girlfriend” I could tell he was irritated with my vague indirect answers. I knew what he was asking. I remember the crush I had on my neighbor across the street. We had been friends since kindergarten, and had been classmates for 1st, 2nd, and 4th grades. We got along really well, and I knew from around 12 or 13 that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, things never progressed beyond the ‘just friends’ stage of things. It wasn’t from lack of effort on my part. We had just grown up together most of our lives that she didn’t see me as anything more than a brother and friend. “Dude, look. You just started to go through changes and you are starting to notice girls, but that doesn’t mean that you need to love every girl that shows you a little kindness or subtle interest. You need to slow down and let things happen naturally. You can’t force a relationship with someone.” Johnny pondered these words for a moment. I sat back and put my feet up on the coffee table. I looked around the room some more while I waited for another question. There was so much I had forgotten, but being back here had unlocked more and more memories that continued to wash over me. I was trying to hold on to my cool as not all those churned up recollections were pleasant. I stood up and walked over to the front door to peer outside the small central window embedded into the center of it. I could see the old neighborhood as I remembered it all those years ago. The lot across the street that served as a parking area for those that worked at the wheel works at the end of the block was empty of cars. I furrowed my brow as I thought for a moment. An empty lot meant it was afterhours or the weekend.
The gears in my own head started turning. “Wait, where is everyone?” I asked Johnny. Johnny turned to look at me still processing my last response. “Uh..oh, Mom and dad are out of town. They took a trip east this time. I think Rio said they are in Arizona right now. Rio and Nathan went out to get some food and to rent some movies from Video Showcase. Knowing them they’ll eat out first. Talia is staying over at Tia Rosie’s place today with her friends.” I grunted at his response. My mind was wandering as he mentioned Talia and Tia Rosie.
A sudden sharp pain pieced my heart. The pain of a thousand memories now unsealed spilled out from the box I had locked them away in. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes as I turned back to look at Johnny. He felt it too. He stared at the floor with an intensity that made me think it would burst into flames at any moment. I walked back over to him and sat next to him. He didn’t move. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he threw himself into me. I could feel the tears dripping onto me as he sobbed intensely. “Hey man, its ok. It’s going to be ok.” I said as my own tears started to flow uncontrollably. I pulled him close and draped my other arm around him.
I knew the pain he was feeling. It was such a heavy burden, and I knew there was no one he felt he could talk to. I remembered it all so vividly. We sat there for what seemed to be an eternity. When we finally stopped sobbing, and our noses ran dry, we tried to breathe our way through to calmness. I got up and knelt in front of him. “Johnny, listen to me and remember what it is that I’m about to say to you. You are stronger than you think. You are stronger than you believe. NO ONE should ever have to go through this. Just because it happened to Talia, doesn’t mean you have to put up with it any longer. I know you didn’t think it was wrong, but I’m telling you that what she is doing to you is wrong. Talking to mom and dad isn’t going to make them hate you. You are not doing this to her, she is doing it to you. I’m not making excuses for her, but she is also more damaged than anyone realizes, and she is also dealing with the same level of pain you are. Remember that we do unto others what has been done to us. That doesn’t mean we need to continue the cycle of abuse” The lump in my throat grew immense at my own statement. I swallowed it as best I could and continued “You are going to deal with this pain a little bit at a time, and you’ll slowly get over this. It’s like a broken bone. When it happens, you don’t realize how bad the pain is until the adrenaline wears off, but then the immense pain is there. Just remember that this will pass. Just like a broken bone, you will heal over time, and one day, you will realize that the pain is gone and the bone is no longer broken. You’ll remember the pain, but it won’t hurt anymore.”
Johnny sat there in stunned silence. I knew he didn’t have anyone to help him through this. He couldn’t talk to Rio or Nathan about what was going on. Mom and Dad were constantly working to keep the family fed and sheltered and while they provided materially for their kids, emotional help was less available. Perhaps it was due to their energies being divided into 4 kids, a mortgage and multiple jobs, or perhaps it was also the culture of not talking about problems. Either way, they needed to know what was happening. They wouldn’t be able to fix it otherwise. “They’re going to be mad at me” he finally said after a few moments of silence. “No they won’t be. They love us all. I know you’re not used to hearing it, but they do love you. Everything they do is because of their love for us. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Telling them isn’t going to cause them to be angry.” I thought for a moment to find a good analogy. “You love Odie and Lady, right?” He nodded in agreement. “Ok, how would you feel if you knew someone you trusted was coming to the house and beating up our dogs when we weren’t around?” He thought about it for a second before his face changed to anger. “I’d want to kill them!” “Yes, but would you also feel sad that you weren’t there to try to protect them?” I reasoned. His face changed again. He understood what I was saying. Mom and Dad would be angry, but not necessarily at him. They would also feel a great sadness knowing that someone was hurting their child.
I smiled at him. He understood. I nodded. “Dude…You’re going to come to understand that life is not what you think it will be. Life is messy and can change in an instant. The plans you make today may not make it to next week. A lifelong goal can be derailed because of something out of your control. Mom and dad have spent their life protecting us with the goal of keeping us safe, but circumstances out of their control have affected their kids, and now we- you all have to deal with the fallout. Just remember that you are not the culprit. Yes, mom and dad will be hurt and angry, but not at you. Trust them. They don’t do things to hurt us” Johnny hugged me. I- He didn’t have many people he could trust and open up to. He liked to talk a lot about everything going on in his life, no matter how trivial. Everything, except this. This was a shameful topic, and he didn’t feel like anyone would understand why he didn’t go to an adult sooner. The problem was simple. He simply didn’t understand that it was wrong. Now that he had an adult that he could talk to, himself no less, he wanted to lift this burden off his shoulders. He was happy to have found someone and he hugged me tightly. I hugged him back just at tightly. It wasn’t every day that I could meet my younger self and help to comfort them. “Thank you” he said to me.
The world darkened, and everything faded to black.
I lifted my head out of my knees and looked around. I was sitting under the window in my old bedroom again. Had I fallen asleep? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. I was emotionally drained and incredibly tired. I hadn’t had sleep like that in years. I got to my feet and looked around the room briefly before walking out to mom and dad’s old room. I grabbed my camera and slowly walked the house, snapping picture after picture. The only sound to be heard was the sound of the camera shutter and my soft footsteps. I thought about my dream as I took pictures.
Upon entering my room, a random memory hit me.
The stash.
I was pretty sure I had taken the hidden box when I moved out all those years ago, but since I was here, I should double check. Heading into the closet, I pushed the panel that led to the attic space out of the way and peered in. I couldn’t see anything, so I reached up there to feel around. The box was indeed gone. I felt around for a few more seconds and was surprised to feel what felt like a thick envelope. I didn’t remember leaving anything up there, but after pulling it down and giving it a cursory glance, I figured it was an old envelope of lost love letters. It wasn’t until I blew off the thick layer of dust that I realized what I was holding. It was a letter. Not just any letter. It was addressed to me.
Under the now semi-cleared layer of dust were the words “To be opened by future me”. I looked at it for a few moments before opening it. I couldn’t remember making this at all, much less storing it up in my secret hiding spot. If ever I hid something, it was in the stash box. My hands shook a bit as I started to open the envelope and pulled out the yellowed pages inside. I started reading.
"Dear Future John. I have spent the last few years remembering a dream I had when I was younger. Life was…difficult at that time, and I spent a lot of time escaping my reality by reading a lot of books and watching a lot of TV. On the off-chance that what I think is a dream really happened. I wanted to write some things down in an effort to give you my thanks. I merely consider myself a conveyer of thanks, although I will pile on my own thanks to you for your words of encouragement. I remember finding a stranger in the house one day while I was home alone. I was afraid he was there to hurt me at first, but after a few moments, I came to realize I was meeting myself. Well, I was meeting me, but from the future. I think he said he was in his 40’s, but I couldn’t tell you with any certainty. Either way, we talked. We talked about life, and what the future held in store for us…
Mostly though, we talked about the abuse. Well, Talked is being generous. We cried, and then we talked. I don’t remember exactly what he told me, but I remember how he made me feel. He made me feel safe. I felt like I could trust him. Trust myself. In the end, he gave me the courage to stand up for myself both at home and at school. He also gave me the courage to talk to mom and dad about what was going on between me and Talia. I do remember being afraid that I would be punished, but he reassured me that they wouldn’t, and that they loved me.
It was a difficult and awkward conversation, but in the end, arrangements were made for me to share a room with Rio and Nathan. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Talia for a long while, but after some years, we managed to patch things up. She apologized to me, and I came to understand the abuse she herself was subjected to by so-called family friends. She didn’t tell me this in an effort to excuse it, but to merely help give me closure to a difficult time from my own childhood. Mom and dad promised to be more attentive to us and we sort of established what I guess you would call an open door policy. We talk more about stuff that’s happening in our lives. Mom is much easier to talk to now. Dad is a little more patient with us too. I apologized to them for not coming to them sooner, and dad gave me a “nugget of wisdom” that I think I’ll live by: We can’t fix what we don’t know is broken. I’ve tried to make sure I talk to them when something is wrong, and I’ve tried to implement that in my life so I don’t have problems with other people.
I’m trying to grow up to be a good guy. I want to have good relationships with people. Nathan says I’m turning into a people pleaser, but I don’t necessarily see that as a terrible thing. I know when to say no to someone. Well, either way, I wanted to make sure I thank you for the help you gave us. I probably won’t remember writing this, but I hope I do find it again someday. Here’s hoping I turn into the man I feel you are. -John Age 16."
I stared at the letter, the words blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. I quickly brushed them away as I quietly spoke to no one in particular. “Thanks guys. I hope I live up to your expectations” I folded the letter, placed it in my pocket, and walked out of the room. After picking up my backpack and tripod, I silently walked towards the front door, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I turned to look back at the empty living room one last time, and after a moment, I walked out.

I asked them to stop spraying their stuff. Repeatedly. I let it slide that they are sitting together. I have to pick my battles. Sixth grade Sephora goddesses having a olfactory clusterfuck of migraine-inducing density. Hey didn't want me on that side of the room. My eyes were watering and one of the boys called me over to the other side of her classroom. I took he long way around and silent but deadlied, cropdusting with agent orange level defoliant. I was overr with the boys-teacher leaves them fifteen minutes of work and they're done-and it hit. We could see a change, hands started waving, noses were plugged. Gone were the preening swans in their scented cloud. They began to cry eewwww who was that who farted ye boys are not clued in at this point, but I'm on my period someone moaned and now the boys are online and i am confused. So I guess I'll never know.

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

She greeted him with lips and an open mouth before he’d managed to shut the front door; a welcoming home he hadn’t received since they were still dating. The surprise assault nearly caused Mark to stumble backward into the hallway, but he recovered and returned the embrace in kind, relishing the feeling of her body and tongue against his. As she pulled away, he thought he detected a faint aftertaste on her breath—something unnatural hidden underneath, an earthy flavor that reminded him of potting soil. The taste was gone as soon as it had come, and he forgot about it in short order.
“Welcome home, babe,” Tracy said with a smile, and he smiled back.
“Well, that was nice,” he said, while his brain scrambled to attribute any significance to this day, a forgotten birthday or anniversary or any reason at all for the enthusiasm he’d been welcomed home with. He came up empty, conceded defeat and said, “What was that for?”
“I’ve just missed you, is all. I’m glad you’re home.” She was still smiling, her green eyes drinking him in like sunflowers in the first light of the morning. She waited for him to remove his shoes, then took his hand and pulled him into the warm glow of the kitchen and kissed him again in a fervent reminder of their youth. The taste was stronger this time; he thought it familiar but couldn’t place it. Bad breath, perhaps.
They passed through the kitchen into the dark of their living room, lit only by the cool white of the television. An old rerun of Tracy’s favorite sitcom was on, filling the room with bombastic voices and the intervallic laughs of a live studio audience. Mark jumped at the unexpected sight of a figure sitting on the couch—a woman with hands in her lap and an upright posture, her eyes glued to the TV without so much as an acknowledgment of their presence. Her face was a blank slate.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot to tell you Shelby is here,” Tracy said, motioning to her sister. “She wanted to come over and hang out for a while. Her husband has been fucking their underage neighbor. She walked in on them today.”
This tactless and matter-of-fact proclamation shocked Mark almost as much as the news itself. “Oh, Shelby, I’m so sorry,” he said. “Have you talked to the police yet?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tracy said, waving an apathetic hand before sitting opposite her sister on the couch and patting the spot between them, grinning. “We’re all just going to relax and have a good time right now. Why don’t you come take a seat?”
Mark shifted on his feet but relented and walked over to sit. When he did, Tracy scooted over to him and put a hand on his thigh, whispering in his ear while lightly brushing his cheek with soft lips. It was something she knew he liked, at least when they were alone.
“Don’t you want to have a good time with me?” She said, planting a slow, deliberate kiss in front of his ear, following it up with a dab of her tongue. Her cool breath carried a strange smell to his nose, and the hair on Mark’s arms stood up despite himself. Tracy put a hand between his legs and gave him a firm squeeze.
Mark started like he’d received an electric shock and pulled his wife’s hand away, trying his best to whisper quietly enough for only her to hear. “What the hell are you doing?” he said, shooting a nervous glance at Shelby, who appeared unbothered.
“It’s fine, babe. I just can’t resist you. It’s not my fault you look so good,” Tracy whispered louder than him and tried snaking her hand back onto his crotch. It was all Mark could do to keep her at bay without alerting Shelby outright.
“Your sister is right there,” he said through gritted teeth. “And you just said she’s going through some shit. Just wait until later. You can have anything you want then.”
“Oh, there’s no way I can wait. You’re much too tempting for that. What do you say we go to the bedroom? I’m gonna give you something you’ll never forget.” Tracy moaned audibly and gnashed her teeth so hard Mark recoiled. He turned and looked at her with a bewildered expression, while hers was nothing short of ravenous.
“What is going on?” He asked her. “I’m not comfortable with this at all. Just wait until we’re alone!”
Tracy stood and looked down on him with crossed arms, not bothering to whisper. “I don’t care how comfortable you are. You’re my husband, and you’re going to give me what I want. I have to go to the bathroom. You have until I get back to lighten up and have a good time with me.” She walked to the back of the apartment in a huff.
Mark moved into Tracy’s old spot and stared at the ground. He wasn’t sure how much of that Shelby had seen and heard, but she’d surely heard something, and he had no idea what to say.
“It’s not her.” She spoke so quietly, and Mark had been so consumed with embarrassed thoughts that Shelby’s words didn’t register at first. When he realized she’d said something, he turned to her, and for the first time he noticed that she hadn’t moved since he’d walked in. Not one muscle. Not an inch.
“What did you say?” he asked her.
“It’s not her. She’s dead.”
The clunk of footsteps on the wooden floor in the kitchen preceded Tracy’s arrival, and she walked into the living room with a smile on her face, hands clasped behind her back.
Marks stomach sunk into a pit of ice at the sight of her hungry smile. “Alright, babe,” she said. “Let’s go to the bedroom. Shelby will be okay here alone for a little bit. I want you too badly to wait anymore.” Her smile widened, and a trail of green liquid ran from the corner of her mouth down her chin. She caressed her neck with her right hand, massaging slowly. “I want you, babe. You need to come give in to me. I won’t let you get away.”
Mark’s throat tightened as he turned to Shelby, who remained as motionless as ever and said nothing. He looked into the lustful eyes of Tracy, who winked and beckoned him to follow before walking back to their bedroom.
He didn't move at first. He felt like a python had squeezed the breath from his body, and he gasped and put a hand on his chest, attempting to gain control of his breathing.
“Come to me, dear husband!” A cry from the bedroom made him jump. But at these words, he accepted his fate. She was his wife, and she needed him. He would always love her.
He stood and walked into the kitchen. The apartment was dark, with the only light emanating from their bedroom, which sat with the door half-open at the end of the hallway.
Mark braced himself and walked towards it.

Hi, my school hasn't provided us with a lot of support with the EPQ but I was told that they don't really consider your essay as much as your production log. I've just realised that I forgot to note down page numbers for pretty much all of my sources when I'm 2500 words in, and one of those sources is a 700 page pdf document that I'd like to avoid having to comb through again. If I can do a good production log, will this poor referencing hurt my overall grade that much or is it not worth worrying about as much?

i was told i should try posting here as this may be a legal issue. for background info, im 16 and sitting my gcses right now. my mother had a heart attack, appendicitis and a very serious bowel infection and was rushed to hospital yesterday. she is having 2 surgeries this week. i have contacted my school about this and have requested any support they can give me as i dont believe im mentally well enough to sit these exams right now. they deliberated with the exam boards and have said my situation is ‘not serious enough’ to justify any sort of special consideration. on the main exam board AQA’s website, they specify that they are able to provide a mark when a student cannot take the exam due to ‘unavoidable circumstances’. i have been denied this and any other form of help including extra time or addition to my grades post-results. i’m at a complete loss here, i am in no way in the correct mental state to sit these exams and my future rests on them as my sixth form requires these exams for admittance and they stated if i don’t get the results in summer my place will be given away. is there anything i can do here?

Just as the title says…I’ve been fortunate to exclusively breastfeed my babe for almost 2 years and have been trying to gentle wean for MONTHS but it just has not been working. We nurse on demand but he still was choosing milk over solids and in addition to comfort nursing and night nursing I’m embarrassed to say how many nursing sessions we were at daily. Mama is tired of been tugged on and I have reached the point that many have said “you’ll know when you’re done”. So this evening I tapped my breast up and started drinking pink storks no flow tea (idk if it will help to try me up but I sure hope so. I’ve been an over producer the entire time and have finally got down to only pumping if I’m away from my toddler for like 6 hours to relieve. So I’m not pumping at all most days except for the occasional outing. He had done well with out of sight out of mind and I noticed on those days he ate more real food (which makes sense because he wasn’t full of milk. So here we are. Part of me just hope it’s works quick, the toddler melt downs don’t last long and eventually I won’t be tapped up and leaking milk. Idk just needed to get it out. Hopefully I haven’t offended anyone. I am offering my babe all the cuddles and kisses he wants and hoping to find other methods of comfort to replace the breast since he does not take a pacifier as I am the literal pacifier. Welcoming words of encouragement, education and kindness and will ignore any negativity.

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Just as the title says…I’ve been fortunate to exclusively breastfeed my babe for almost 2 years and have been trying to gentle wean for MONTHS but it just has not been working. We nurse on demand but he still was choosing milk over solids and in addition to comfort nursing and night nursing I’m embarrassed to say how many nursing sessions we were at daily. Mama is tired of been tugged on and I have reached the point that many have said “you’ll know when you’re done”. So this evening I tapped my breast up and started drinking pink storks no flow tea (idk if it will help to try me up but I sure hope so. I’ve been an over producer the entire time and have finally got down to only pumping if I’m away from my toddler for like 6 hours to relieve. So I’m not pumping at all most days except for the occasional outing. He had done well with out of sight out of mind and I noticed on those days he ate more real food (which makes sense because he wasn’t full of milk. So here we are. Part of me just hope it’s works quick, the toddler melt downs don’t last long and eventually I won’t be tapped up and leaking milk. Idk just needed to get it out. Hopefully I haven’t offended anyone. I am offering my babe all the cuddles and kisses he wants and hoping to find other methods of comfort to replace the breast since he does not take a pacifier as I am the literal pacifier. Welcoming words of encouragement, education and kindness and will ignore any negativity.

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General

Name: Rango
Epithet: The Cryptid King, The Jester
Age: 30
Height: 6'5
Race: Clownfish Fishman
Appearance: A clownfish Fishman. He possesses dark orange skin, with black hair and a beard. His hair is generally short. He has white rings around his neck, chest, wrists and ankles, as well as a similarly colored vertical marking on his left arm. This marking bears the appearance of a pointing arrow, pointing upwards towards his neck.
Rango wears a sea anemone on his head. It's name is "Noodle". This anemone grants the appearance of Rango wearing a turban and long dreadlocks.
Personality: Rango is a Duplicitous man. To the people of 5-star Island, he is both an idiot and a prankster, always wearing a goofy smile and making light of himself. However, to his enemies, he is known as a cruel man. He is known to "prank", however these gags far more violent.
Skills: An engineer, Rango tends to invent and modify whatever he finds an interest in. He is also a skilled interrogator, and uses his engineering know-how as a means to gather information.
Occupation: Rango is in charge of the Security of an island called 5-star Island, largely serving as the sheriff and prison warden of this island.

Abilities

Fishman Karate: Rango is rather proficient at Fishman Karate, however he is in no way considered an expert.
Weapons/Equipment: Rango's favorite weapon is a harpoon spear, which he uses in lieu of a trident. He keeps this stored in a small satchel which has infinite storage space (More on this in the Devil Fruit sections)
He also possesses a revolver that he himself developed. Rather than firing bullets, however, it can fire any fluid with the force and power greater than that of a cannon. It possesses an improved iron sight for accuracy, as well as a longer barrel. Rango is known to have deadly accuracy with this weapon
Inherent Traits: As a clownfish fishman, Rango is naturally immune to the poisons of Anemone. He is also passively resistant to most other types of poisons, primarily those found in sea life. This resistance has allowed him to develop a symbiotic relationship with an Anemone he named "Noodle" (because it kinda looks like a bowl of ramen)
"Noodle": Noodle is a sentient anemone that sticks to Rango. While it cannot speak, it evidently communicates to Rango in some way. The Anemone seems to have a serious personality, being the voice of reason to Rango's erratic behavior, and actively chastising him when he "Misbehaves".
Interestingly, however, Noodles connection to Rango grants it a level of control over Rango's body. At times, especially when he is unconscious, Noodle will take over and take Rango to safety. This symbiosis has proved especially useful when fleeing under water, as noodle will Drag Rango away through a seabed in a pinch.
Otherwise, Noodle almost exists as an extension of Rango, its tendrils being used as extra arms most of the time. Noodle emits an "Electrotoxin", which is to say that contact with the tendrils will both electrocute and Paralyze a living target
Haki: Observation and limited armament.
Devil Fruit: The Up Up fruit
Rango has eaten the Up Up fruit, a devil fruit that allows him to enhance anything he wants. This is done by creating cyan Arrow-shaped beams. When an object is struck, an arrow pointing upward will be embedded on their body. The "Strength" of the upgrade is directly related to the length of the arrow.
Rango uses this fruit to enhance weaponry, as well as turn normally harmless items into weaponry. For example, he may Upgrade the sharpness and hardness of a toy sword, making it comparable to a high-grade blade. Or he may upgrade an innocuous object like a playing card or Billiard Ball to turn them into deadly projectiles
A weakness of this ability is that an individual can only be upgraded once at a time. Further upgrades will require removing the original and replacing it. However, the scope and scale of an upgrade can encompass multiple aspects, so long as they have some relation. Further, Rango must choose what he upgrades. If he is not aware of something, he cannot upgrade it. This requires him to have a passing knowledge of whatever he is enhancing.
Releasing an upgrade will return the target to their original state

Techniques

All applications of upgrade involve Rango targeting and enhancing a certain aspect of a person, it Even the person as a whole.
Monster-Grade - A technique that is largely used on animals, although it can also be utilized on Zoan-type or humanoid beings. This enhancement amplifies the animalistic properties of a target, turning them into "Yuuma" (jp) or "Cryptids" (en)
Servant-Grade - This is technically not a separate upgrade, but instead an Inherent property of the technique. Any target upgraded by Rango can have their body or mind hijacked by him, forcing them into fulfilling his commands.
Rango has utilized this ability to enslave criminals on his island, forcing them into becoming servants as part of a luxury resort.
As a side effect of this control, individuals will have glowing purple eyes.
Devil-Grade - Rango enhances the devil fruit of a target. This will either enhance the element of a user in the case of element-type fruits or provide an additional property for other such fruits. (Zoan upgrades will apply the Monster-Grade effect)
Health-Grade - An ability that is technically split into two. The first is Recovery Enhancement. This ability will grant an individual a passive ability to heal and mend wounds and injuries. This is rather slow, however, and will generally take a few hours to a day to complete depending on the injury. The second is Full Recovery, In which Rango will "Upgrade" a target to full health, regardless of injury or cause. However, because this change is a result of the upgrade, and not a side bonus as the other, once this upgrade is released, a target will return to their injured state. Generally speaking, this is only best in an emergency.
Stolen-Grade - An offshoot of "Servant-Grade", Rango uses his upgrade ability to hijack an object or weapon that traditionally cannot be used by individuals other than the original user.
Presently, Rango has used this ability to "Steal" a mirror owned by Brulee, granting him free access to her mirror dimension without her knowledge.
Castle-Grade - An upgrade that enhances the natural defense of a target
Hyper-Grade - An Upgrade that enhances the natural speed of a target
Ballistic-Grade - By upgrading a projectile attack, Rango can enhance its power and force of impact. Largely speaking, he uses this mostly on bullets to grant the power of a cannon
Split-Grade - A technique that allows Rango to bypass the original limitation of his fruit. He will split the upgrade into two branches of a whole, allowing him to upgrade multiple related aspects, but at half the original efficacy. This results in the arrow on a target branching into two separate arrows.
Downgrade - an inversion of his ability done by upgrading his own fruit. This allows Rango to instead reduce or weaken aspects of a target, such as their durability or speed.

Equipment

Rango has a series of equipment that he has enhanced to have useful properties
Mirror Portal: A mirror stolen from Brulee. This allows Rango to access his own section of the Mirror dimension. However, he can only enter an exit this section through this mirror, and does not have access to any other nearby mirrors.
Infinite Sachel: A satchel enhanced to have storage space equivalent to that of a large crate. Rango uses this satchel to store his armory of weapons.
Trace-A-Rang: A boomerang that is enhanced to lock onto a target and strike them, and then afterward always return to the user. This makes for the perfect projectile weapon, although it isn't very strong damage-wise.
Boost Rations: Small packages of rations that are enhanced to provide increased vitality and health when eaten.
Perfect Gauntlet: A pair of gauntlets enhanced with the strongest defense enhancements possible. This makes these gauntlets nearly unbreakable.

My biggest issue right now is I am struggling so bad with my sinful nature right now. I am in college and it’s been so hard for me to do my homework and everything, I’ve been being lazy and putting it off and I’ve not been getting good grades because of it. The only thing I can put my mind to is reading Gods word, praying, and online fellowship. I don’t want anything in this world I don’t want what this world has to offer, I just want Gods love. I want to be free from my sinful nature and this sinful earth and I want to do only what God says is good. But I realize God is keeping me here for a reason, and so I must find a way to honor God through that. I don’t want fame or success or money or approval, I just want his pure love. My parents want me to go to college, and I feel like it’s my sinful nature that wants to disobey them and do my own thing. But I also don’t reeeally know. Because I know they’re imperfect and I know they don’t know all things like God does, but what I do know is God wants us to honor our parents. But it’s so hard, I don’t want to do anything that I can’t tell is helping with my relationship with God directly. Like it’s hard for me to put in hard work if I can’t directly see if what I’m doing is building my relationship with him. It’s hard for me to obey my parents when I know they don’t know all things like God does. And I know and I’m sure it’s just my sinful nature fighting against my spirit, but it’s really hard. It’s so hard for me to fight against my flesh, especially when I know how flawed the world is. It’s so hard for me to put effort into obeying others when I know they can’t be compared to God. At least with praying, reading the Bible, and fellowship like I know I’m getting closer to him and that’s all I have to think about. When I do that all I have to think about is getting closer to him, but if I have to think of doing anything else or anything remotely related to anything else it is so hard. I want to have faith in God in all things, so when he tells me to honor my parents I want to do it, but it’s so hard actually doing it. It’s just so hard to actually do and completely trust that I need to do other things than learn about him. Cause I just want him. I don’t want anything else, I don’t get why he wants me to do anything else but focus on him like I am right now. I don’t get why I’m still on this earth I don’t want to be here I want to be with him. But I have to trust that I’m here for a reason and that he loves me. It’s just really hard to relate that I’m not here for myself but for God to other parts of my life. Idk if this makes any sense but I hope you guys get where I’m coming from and can understand what I’m saying. I fail so much I fail so so so much when I have trouble focusing on things that I can’t see are actually helping my relationship with him. I used to live for myself and now I do for him so sometimes it’s hard to see what’s for him and what’s for me. I don’t want to succeed, I want to be sinless and I don’t know how to do that without him. If I’m not focusing on him or if I get distracted by something else, I don’t know what to do. And so often with my parents I get distracted and I can’t focus on God completely cause my sin distracts me and I can’t tell what from them is good or bad. I can’t tell. But I know they have been wrong before, I know I’ve been wrong before, so I don’t want to focus or be distracted by either of us I just want to focus on God. BUT THEN AGAIN I KNOW GOD SAYS TO HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER SO I DONT KNOWEW 😭 how can I honor someone and obey and listen to someone who doesn’t know what’s truly best for me like God does. How can I trust them? It’s just really hard. Hard to focus on God in every aspect that he wants me to.

I'm an Assistant Professor (TT) in the first year at a CC.
I have had an ongoing problem with students watching YouTube or TikTok via earbuds throughout my classes. I had several students who, although present for a lecture, ask me to repeat things we went over many times -- because they were listening to their devices.
I instituted a no phone policy, a student complained, and I was told I could not ask the students to put their phones away, because a family member might be in trouble and have no way to contact them.
I have one student in particular who has been working on his Associate's Degree for almost a decade. He is almost 30. Since this person has been a student for so long, he is very close to the staff, and even has a part-time job in our office.
This person is the worst offender for not paying attention in class, completing assignments, or staying on task. During a lab, he will not do any work in class at all. Like, not even a little bit. This person sits at a desk with no computer (while others are at theirs) and watches videos on his phone for hours (they're 3 hour labs). He encourages others to do the same. His behavior is rubbing off on his peers, and they are carrying it into other classes in the major. He's turning in work, but I have speculated someone else might be helping him (his girlfriend recently graduated from our program), or he may be using AI.
One day, I asked him to put his phone away repeatedly (they are required to work in their classes), he refused, left the room and immediately told the Chair and Program Coordinator (with whom he is friendly) that I was bullying him. I saw him mock crying to the Program Coordinator, who looked at me like I was a murderer. When he came back to the classroom, he smirked and said, "I hope you don't get in trouble."
At the end of the semester, the student got a B and sent everyone in the department multiple emails about how he was graded unfairly, because the rubric I used was on a scale which does not correspond to our internal system (Canvas). Obviously, I should change this, but I didn't realize the discrepancy, and I can't do it retroactively. And, obviously, points were deducted because he missed assignments and didn't follow instructions (i.e. working in class). He could not only see the percentage in Canvas, but also had access to the final grade I had just entered that day (because of his job) -- well before the other students.
Meanwhile, this person has been surreptitiously garnering sympathy about this situation by complaining to everyone in the Department. I even heard from other people in different Departments about how I was treating him unfairly. For the record, a Professor in another discipline told him to listen to me.
Long story short, the Chair and the Program Coordinator privately met with the student, encouraged him to dispute his grade, and helped him to file a "grade complaint" with the Dean. They had multiple in-person meetings to coordinate this. However, no one said a word to me about any of this nor did they help me to navigate the situation. When I requested a meeting on this subject, I was forced to jump through increasingly bizarre hoops. The meeting is tomorrow.
I don't feel supported. This student is not going anywhere anytime soon. He will probably be a student in my classes for another 10 years, and the staff is supporting and encouraging his behavior. He's going to continue to prove in my classes that no-one has to do anything that I say. Apparently, I can't even give these students bad grades.
I seriously just want to quit, but I'm a disabled single parent, and it was an ordeal to get the school to agree to accommodate those situations. I'm not sure I could do it again. I had to arrange for competing offers from two different institutions in order to get them to agree to my terms. I'm well respected in my field (I just left the industry to care for my child), but it still seems impossible.
If anyone has ANY advice, please let me know.

Hurtigruten Cruise Line – Special Offers (Northern Lights Promise, No Single Supplement)

Posted on May 15, 2024 by Andrew Larder

Hurtigruten Cruise Line

Two Evergreen Offers:
Northern Lights Promise For those who have their heart set on witnessing the swirling glow of the aurora borealis, we make a promise no one can match:
Sail the Norwegian coast with us during the auroral season between September 20 and March 31 on a voyage of 11 days or more. If the Northern Lights do not occur within sight of your ship during your voyage, we will give your clients a 6 or 7-day Original Coastal Express Classic Voyage FREE OF CHARGE*.
Find your voyage NO SINGLE SUPPLEMENT SELECT DEPARTURES UP TO 30% OFF The Coastal Express 12 DAYS • 34 PLACES The Coastal Express Route
Bergen – Kirkenes – Bergen (Roundtrip)
Departure Dates
Regular departures
Price from $1,853
$1,575
Ships
Multiple
NO SINGLE SUPPLEMENT SELECT DEPARTURES UP TO 10% OFF The Coastal Express – To the Viking Capital 11 DAYS • 27 PLACES The Coastal Express – To the Viking Capital Route
Bergen – Kirkenes – Trondheim (Roundtrip)
Departure Dates
Regular departures
Price from
$3,848
Ships
Multiple
UP TO 25% OFF The North Cape Line 14 DAYS • 14 PLACES The North Cape Line Full voyage from Bergen to Oslo
Route
Bergen – Honningsvåg – Oslo (Roundtrip)
Departure Dates
December 2024 – April 2025
Price from $3,283
$2,976
Ship
MS Trollfjord
UP TO 25% OFF The North Cape Line 14 DAYS • 14 PLACES The North Cape Line Full voyage from Oslo to Bergen
Route
Oslo – Honningsvåg – Bergen (Roundtrip)
Departure Dates
December 2024 – May 2025
Price from $3,389
$3,071
Ship
MS Trollfjord
UP TO 10% OFF The North Cape Line 15 DAYS • 13 PLACES The North Cape Line Full voyage from Oslo
Route
Oslo – Honningsvåg – Oslo (Roundtrip)
Departure Dates
September 2025 – April 2026
Price from $3,707
$3,336
Ship
MS Trollfjord
Why we can make this promise Where we sail on the Norwegian coast is directly beneath the Auroral Zone, an area of consistent and heightened Northern Lights activity.
Our ships act as floating, mobile observatories that move between areas where there is a lot of cloud cover to places where it’s clear skies and perfect conditions to see the aurora when it appears.
How we help you to see the aurora All the cabins and suites on our ships have an ‘Northern Lights alert’ which will tell you whenever we spot sightings of the aurora, so you can rush to your window or outside to catch them.
Our crew will announce occurrences of the aurora to your cabin or suite at any time of the day or night. You can switch these announcements on and off as you prefer.
Northern Lights Promise Terms & Conditions Subject to the following ‘Terms and Conditions’ in 2023/24 This offer applies to all new bookings of voyages of 11 days or more along the Norwegian coast aboard The Coastal Express and The North Cape Line (previously known as The North Cape Express) voyages. It applies to North Cape Line voyages departing between September 26, 2023 and March 31, 2024 and The Coastal Express voyages departing between October 1, 2023 and March 31, 2024.
A Northern Lights occurrence is defined as a sighting from the ship that is recorded by the ship’s deck officers and that is announced to passengers on board. Announcements are made to your cabin or via another channel decided by the deck officers. An occurrence can last anything from a few minutes to a matter of hours, and the ships decision as to whether the Northern Lights occurred is final.
We announce occurrences of the Northern Lights on board the ship and you have the option of announcements direct to your cabin or suite. We hope that you will experience seeing the Northern Lights whilst on your voyage with us of 11 days or more, but we cannot be held responsible if you don’t.
We promise that in the event of there being no Northern Lights occurrence as defined above, you will receive a 6-day or 7-day Coastal Express – South or Coastal Express – North voyage, departing between October 1, 2024 and March 31, 2025 in an unspecified inside twin cabin on a full-board basis free of charge. You may upgrade to another grade of cabin subject to additional costs and availability.
We reserve the right to withdraw or amend the offer at any time. Please check at the time of booking as to the current status of the offer. The offer must be claimed and booked within 28 days from your return date. A choice of departure dates will be given.
The offer excludes flights, transfers, all onboard expenses, excursions, and luggage handling. The offer does not apply to re-scheduled or cancelled cruises. Bookings are non-transferable, non-changeable, and have no cash value.
Subject to the following ‘Terms and Conditions’ in 2024/25 This offer applies to all new bookings of voyages of 11 days or more along the Norwegian coast aboard The Coastal Express and The North Cape Line (previously The North Cape Express). It applies to voyages departing between September 20, 2024 and March 31, 2025.
A Northern Lights occurrence is defined as a sighting from the ship that is recorded by the ship’s deck officers and that is announced to passengers on board. Announcements are made to your cabin or via another channel decided by the deck officers. An occurrence can last anything from a few minutes to a matter of hours, and the ships decision as to whether the Northern Lights occurred is final.
We announce occurrences of the Northern Lights on board the ship and you have the option of announcements direct to your cabin or suite. We hope that you will experience seeing the Northern Lights whilst on your voyage with us of 11 days or more, but we cannot be held responsible if you don’t.
We promise that in the event of there being no Northern Lights occurrence as defined above, you will receive a 6-day southbound or 7-day northbound Coastal Express voyage, departing between September 20, 2025 and March 31, 2026 in an unspecified inside twin cabin on a full-board basis free of charge. You may upgrade to another grade of cabin subject to additional costs and availability. Please note that upgrading to suites with this offer may not be available.
We reserve the right to withdraw or amend the offer at any time. Please check at the time of booking as to the current status of the offer. The offer must be claimed and booked within 28 days from your return date. A choice of departure dates will be given.
The offer excludes flights, transfers, all onboard expenses, excursions, and luggage handling. The offer does not apply to re-scheduled or cancelled cruises. Bookings are non-transferable, non-changeable, and have no cash value. This offer is not combinable with claims for compensation, refunds or price reductions. __________________

Solo Traveler Offer

Hurtigruten makes Norway more affordable for solo travelers by reducing the single supplement to zero* on select Norway voyages. Offers available on select departures only.
Check prices and availability to see applicable departures.
Enjoy Unique Experiences & Connections when Traveling Solo
Embark on a journey along the captivating Norwegian coast, where you can immerse yourself in the rich culture and warm coastal hospitality of this breathtaking region. Savor the dishes, art, architecture, and sights of Norway’s heritage, all while having the opportunity to connect with locals. Augment your experience by hearing charming stories and intriguing insights from our expert team about Norwegian culture, history, nature, and geography. In addition to onboard edutainment, connect with fellow travelers over shared experiences thanks to our small cruise ships that help to inspire more intimate conversations.
Relish the Freedom & Solitude of Being a Solo Traveler
As we travel up and down Norway’s magnificent coastline, you’ll be able to soak in the majestic views of the Norwegian fjords. On our cruises, you can also increase your chances of experiencing the Northern Lights in winter or the Midnight Sun in summer. When not taking in the views, you can retreat to your own private room. Be sure to stop by our spa and sauna for maximum relaxation. We also offer delicious meal options. Why wait to unwind?
Try a Coastal Cruise for Your Next Solo Adventure Travel
Enhance your journey as our Coastal Experience Team guides you in optional seasonal excursions, such as dogsledding, cycling, hiking, and birdwatching. Additionally, our chefs can take you on a culinary adventure with our curated menus that infuse locally sourced and seasonal seafood and produce. Enjoy dishes that include succulent fjord-farmed salmon and Nordic specialties.
Find your voyage NO SINGLE SUPPLEMENT SELECT DEPARTURES UP TO 30% OFF The Coastal Express 12 DAYS • 34 PLACES The Coastal Express Route
Bergen – Kirkenes – Bergen (Roundtrip)
Departure Dates
Regular departures
Price from $1,853
$1,575
Ships
Multiple
NO SINGLE SUPPLEMENT SELECT DEPARTURES UP TO 10% OFF The Coastal Express – To the Viking Capital 11 DAYS • 27 PLACES The Coastal Express – To the Viking Capital Route
Bergen – Kirkenes – Trondheim (Roundtrip)
Departure Dates
Regular departures
Price from
$3,848
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Assalamualaikum dear respected brothers and sisters.
I have been feeling very very very down lately and I need help. I pray 5 times a day and read Quran pretty often much more than a year ago. Im 15 years old and my dad care very much about my grades, thats all he talks about and basically revolves my life around as he regrets not being successful. He is very harsh on me and expects 95+ on every test and I did do good in tests but for the last 4 I'd not met up to that expectation and my dad is very dissappointed and so is my mum which is very rare. I have been studying as hard as I can but all my parents say is that I don't practice enough or whatever. I had a test yesterday and I think I did poorly which I am only going to scrape 85 % which is very poor in my parents eyes and I told my parents I was stressed in the test and told my dad its cause he yells at me and he twisted his words and just tried to make me the bad person as he does all the time. I raised the concern with my mum who is much more understanding and nicer and she said read duas during the test but during the whole test I was reciting Surahs but why was I so stressed then? Why did I do poorly if I remembered of Allah through the whole test? I still 100% believe in Allah but why is this happening? I would really appreciate any help, thank you.

…and what I mean by that is that like…
Ok. Look.
I only own, touch, pick up and use cellphone, computer and internet when going about without isn’t an option.
YES! I am well aware that the cellphone, computer and internet part of me is still 2009. Wait… No. I am of the year 1992 and at nine in 2001 my mom got one of them Dell Desktop Flatscreens that you usually find in a receptionist desk. I hated it. I never used it unless I couldn’t go about a certain who knows what without it.
Same in school; middle and intermediate; only when I couldn’t the old way without it would I ever. I wasn’t a go lucky and get ecstatic about using a computer.
In 2010 with the purple and red Verizon silver rectangle keyboard slide out; mine was red and I hated it. My brother started driving then and then in 2010 I was seventeen. I graduated twelfth grade at eighteen in 2011. But I would leave the cellphone in his car in the glove box and the grounding I got because of it because I was to be texting he is driving us home now every late afternoon when the school hours were done. Every weekend that was a do something I would leave it at home or stick it in my mom’s bag (Or excuse me conservatives; purse.).
This doesn’t count I’m deleting it soon.
I never social media. I never photos and videos. The wallpaper is the default on both Lock Screen and Home Screen. The ringtone is the default. The only customization I did and; or do is no sound for text messages, no sound for E-Mail and brightness. I keep the screen flip lock. I don’t want to hold my phone like an old black or disposable camera rectangle style.
I never YouTube except the knowing of it and my mom on that dell playing music. I stuck to the old ways and begged her with compensation to Apple Music when it comes out since there was word of it even then before the first iPhone. I had a stick iPod with an orange skin sticker and I hated ITunes as it is computer. HEEEEECK!
To this day other then the family computer; that Dell that I refused to go about… I never owned a computer and just did a borrow and I only ever own, touxh, pick up and use cellphone, computer and internet when going about without isn’t an option.
I have ALL the built in apps; never deleted. Apple Music or old ways for music.
My actual email app. ( I say actual because of cellphone email which by the way; the cellphone email isn’t your email. It is only to use the cellphone. Your actual email is the gmail that all the world is.)
A grocery list making app.
A coffee app. Amazon. A food app.
That is it.
No social media.
No YouTube.
No photos or videos.
The default I said.
The customization I said.
Call me an old lady for all I care. Go on. Do it. I’m technically young; as I’m from 1992.
I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.
But.
Am I the only one?

THE CLUES
They reportedly manoeuvre in the earths atmosphere as though there was no atmosphere.
They are claimed to behave in a similar way underwater. Fast but I don’t think quite as fast as they move through the air 😉
That means water provides more resistance to them than air does. Just the same as it does for human powered vehicles (maybe the UFOs are human powered vehicles too?)
That means they are not impervious to friction and have just dialled down the effects of friction to a huge degree.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EQCzO4RfZAM
A hydrophobic coating (water repelling) plus a super heated body ( Leidenfrost Effect) will cause almost frictionless travel underwater.
If these two methods of negating friction underwater are already known to work, then it’s highly likely the same combination work to nullify friction in the air too.
If an object can almost completely cancel friction it may well give that object other properties because that object has practically no resistance.
In other words a frictionless object is in a sense invisible to the medium it’s travelling through. It won’t make sonic booms and UFOs don't make sonic booms.
A frictionless vehicle also requires very low energy to operate. This is the opposite to the most common assumption on UFO propulsion. Which almost universally believes UFOs need massive amounts of energy.
Just like an hockey puck sliding across ice, doesn’t need a huge push to move a relatively long distance and at speed.
ANTI GRAVITY?
There is no friction in space because there is no atmosphere. Aerodynamic design is irrelevant in space because there is no air. So no matter what shape an object is it can still reach incredible speeds because there is no atmosphere to slow it down.
So if UFOs have some mystical antigravity force then why are they generally speaking aerodynamic?
I have heard a number of times that a saucer shape isn't an aerodynamic design, WHICH IS RIDICULOUS seeing as the frisbee is the most simple and obvious and STABLE aerodynamic design. There are even reports of flying saucers wobbling.. just like a spinning top when its running out of momentum.. does that sound like antigravity to you?
The triangle is also aerodynamic and so is the cigar shape (what shape is an airliner or missile ffs). Meaning the most well known UFO shapes absolutely are designed to fly in the atmosphere and under the water. They are not flying bricks. Where as if they could negate gravity it wouldn't matter what they were shaped like would it 😉. Meaning we have been fed a line of absolute 🐂💩 about UFOs
AERODYNAMIC AND FRICTIONLESS
Add’s up to vehicles designed to operate in the air and under the water NOT IN SPACE. They may be capable of space travel, who knows? but as I’ve explained they can’t be anti gravity vehicles if body design is important and it clearly is important.
BREAKAWAY HUMAN CIVILISATION
Probably been hiding in plane sight the whole time. The saucer shape is a major clue to this being an ancient human group. Why? Because the saucer shape will have been thrown into the air by people probably at the same time they figured out it could be used as a wheel. It will have been the first and simplest and MOST OBVIOUS air vehicle. Plus its still THE BEST SHAPE because it can go in any direction on it’s vertical axis without having to make a turn and it has a large surface area for hovering. Plus IT’S SIMPLE REALLY IDIOTICALLY STUPIDLY OBVIOUS.
It’s a no brainer that someone thought of making a powered flying disk, probably thousands of years ago.
BUT WHAT ABOUT G-FORCES?
Nobody in the modern age has built a frictionless aircraft. In fact when people claim our tech would be ripped apart by the g-forces UFOs go through, they're right, because our flying machines are full of large parts that stick out, like wings.
In fact our aircraft rely on friction to stay in the air. Thats why our aircraft will only ever reach certain top speeds because friction is a double edged sword.
Where as a saucer can spin in the air and hover just like very simple battery powered disk can do. Taking advantage of the SURFACE AREA of the disk and friction of the air. Then it can take off at high speeds in any direction on its vertical axis because it has a frictionless aerodynamic vertical axis. Remember most if not all reports of hovering saucers have them hovering on their horizontal axis NOT the vertical axis because if they tried to hover on the vertical axis they would slam straight into the ground. Again blatantly pointing to aerodynamics.
Because there is no reason for flying saucers to ROTATE when they hover if they are not acting like a powered frisbee.
WHY HAVE WE BEEN LIED TO?
Because thats exactly what I’d do.

This Fatwa is from a mainstream Sunni Madhabiyun website:

The second approach is to present the factual situation of the matter. The feelings and sentiments of people are not considered. It is done with the firm belief that Allāh will defend and preserve His Dīn. While the intention in the first approach is noble, it is dangerous. The consequences of twisting information to please people are too ghastly to consider. When research uncovers the truth, Islām will be blemished contrary to ones hope of presenting a noble picture of Islām. It is also academic dishonesty and against the spirit of honesty and truthfulness which are the hall marks of Islām.
The age of Hadhrat Aishah Radhiyallāhu Anhā during her marriage with Rasūlullāh Sallallāhu Alaihi Wa Sallam is often highlighted and negatively presented in the context of child marriage. In an attempt to avoid the accusation of child marriage in Islām, some people have adopted an apologetic approach and began distorting the factual situation of Hadhrat Aishah Radhiyallāhu Anhā’s age during marriage. This approach is dangerous and is based on a wrong premise. We have to be bold to claim that child marriage is not prohibited in Islām. However, there are rules that govern the issue to safeguard the interest of the child.
This article is a rebuttal of an essay written by Nilofar Ahmed that was produced in the Dawn newspaper on 17/02/2012. The essay is based on the following incorrect premises:
Prohibition of child marriage
Historical facts must be correlated with authentic narrations
The writer claims that the misinformation of Aisha Radhiyallāhu Anhā’s age at the time of her marriage being six led to the wrong view that child marriage has sanction of Islām. The second premise is that authentic narrations must correlate with historical facts. Both premises are incorrect. Child marriage is permissible. There is no difference of opinion on this from at least the four main schools of thought, Hanafī, Shafi’ī, Mālikī, and Hambalī. Yes, there are rules that govern child marriage to preserve and protect the interest of the child.

Source: islamqa.org
Notice: "Allāh will defend and preserve His Dīn."
And especially notice: "Child marriage is permissible."
For anyone wondering if child marriages are allowed or not, then please refer to this post: The Quran prohibits p*edophilia, here's where! - The Only 'Only-Quran' Response You'll Ever Need
Just so we're totally clear on that, before we speak about this horrible and despicable Fatwa by these Sunni "scholars."

What a betrayal! Woe to these so called scholars!

I can't believe I have to make posts about this crap (I'm sorry for the French). However, I find myself both incensed and incredulous at the manner in which these individuals write about this topic. The assertion that "Allah will defend His Dîn" leaves me astounded. Is it truly your belief, as a supposedly educated individual, a scholar no less, that this dire situation should be left for God to rectify alone? Such a stance reeks of betrayal and hypocrisy, and I must express my profound disgust at the words I am reading. The crux of the issue lies not with God or His religion, but with you, my friend. It is imperative that you repent and publicly acknowledge the absurdity that has infiltrated the pure and perfect religion of God.
It appears that these individuals do not comprehend the pervasiveness of the topic at hand. There is not a single forum post, Instagram reel, or any other form of social media content where Islam is discussed or critiqued, without a comment regarding Aishah's young age during her marriage or the alleged consummation of the marriage when she was nine years old. This is a matter of global concern, with widespread consensus deeming it an abhorrent and reprehensible situation for a child of such tender age to endure. It is highly unlikely that the very Sunni scholars who promote such views would ever entertain the notion of bestowing their own precious nine-year-old child in marriage to a man of fifty years, let alone condone the physical act that could result in severe and lasting mental health repercussions for the child involved.
Islamqa.Org we beseech you and adjure you to immediately take a different stance on this matter and repent to God Almighty for your deviant Fatwas you have issued on this topic! Here below I will prove to you that your own Sunni Hadiths are both contradictory and refute your filthy and disgusting opinion.

Child marriages are completely against Islam:

Nasa'i, Hakim, Hanbal, and others state:

"Abu Bakr and Umar asked the Prophet ﷺ for Fatimah's hand in marriage. He said, "She is too young." Ali then asked for her hand in marriage and he married her to him."

Sources: See sources below!
Hakim says,

"This tradition is authentic by the criteria of both Shaykhs (Bukhari and Muslim) but neither of them included it."

Source: Mustadrik Hakim #2705.

This Hadith is "Mutawatir" according to Sunni standards of what "Mutawatir" is:

For those unfamiliar with the term "Mutawatir," it is defined as "successive" in the context of Sunnism. A "successive" narration is one that has been conveyed by an overwhelming number of narrators, making it implausible that they could have colluded to propagate a falsehood (according to them). As such, these narrations are accepted by them as indisputably true. To put it simply, a Mutawatir narration is considered to be 100% true in their view, with some even going so far as to deem its denial as grounds for expulsion from the fold of Islam.
This particular Hadith is classified as "Mutawatir" according to Sunni standards and can be found in the following sources:

1. Sunan Nasa'i #3221
2. Mustadrak Hakim #2705 (certifies the tradition as authentic by the criteria of Bukhari and Muslim)
3. Fada-il-Hanbal #1051
4. Khasa'is Nasa'i 114
5. Sunan al-Kubra Nasa'i #5329, #8508
6. Mu'jam al-Kabir Tabarani 4:34
7. Kanz al-Ummal #36370, #37746
8. Majma al-Zawa'id #15207 (certifies those in the chain of transmission as trustworthy)
9. Riyad an-Nadirah 3:142
10. Dhakha'ir al-Uqba 29-30
11. Yanabi al-Mawaddah 2:126-7
12. Tabaqat al-Kubra 8:19-20
13. Usd al-Ghabah 1:438 #1094 (Hujr ibn Abbas), 5:364 #7184 (Fatimah bint Rasul-Allah)
14. Ibn Abi al-Hadid 13:228

A whooping number of 14 sources!
This presents a significant challenge for Sunnis. How can they reconcile this with the following allegedly "Sahih" Hadith:
It was narrated that 'Aishah said:

"The Messenger of Allah married me when I was six, and consummated the marriage with me when I was nine, and I used to play with dolls."

Grade: Sahih (Darussalam) Reference: Sunan an-Nasa'i 3378

You have a problem now, and need to give the world an explanation:

Here, we have a "Mutawatir" Hadith in which the prophet allegedly states that Fatimah is too young for Abu Bakr and 'Umar, who were middle-aged men at the time. Simultaneously, we have this other supposedly authentic Hadith where Aishah is said to have been only nine years old when the prophet consummated the marriage with her. I feel immense disgust at even having to write such a sentence and must ask for God's forgiveness.
These self-proclaimed scholars were likely unaware of this Mutawatir narration, and thus, they did not bother to mention it. To do so would have cast a negative light on the prophet and made him appear hypocritical in his views on child marriage. The absurdity of the situation is evident, dear Sunni brothers. Can you not see the circus your Hadiths have created?
In this modern age, where information is readily available, and all of your Hadiths have been brought to light, it is clear that they are being exposed for what they are: fabrications that likely originated from ancient Arab rabbis with the intent to undermine Islam from within.
It is highly improbable that one of the prophet's wives would have made such a ridiculous statement, even if we were to entertain the notion that the consummation of the marriage did occur at such a young age. She would never have said,

"...when I was nine, and I used to play with dolls."

This statement could only have been made by an enemy of God, an enemy of the Noble Quran. The purpose of those words was to prevent gullible Hadith followers from denying that she was a child at the time of consummation. A woman does not play with dolls; therefore, she was a young child. If that detail had been omitted, Sunnis could have at least argued that she matured at a very young age, although that would also have been highly unlikely and untrue.

Conclusion:

You need to explain this mess to everyone and I advise you to REALLY think 10 times before doing so because you will be held accountable for what you say! You are the reason why millions if not billions of people have rejected Islam. You will stand before God and answer to all of this.
Fear God! Repent for what your forefathers have brought upon this religion and clean up this garbage because we have had enough of your ridiculous and absurd Hadiths that ruin the image of our prophet, peace be upon him. It is time to come out with the full truth!
/By your brother, Exion.

Hey there! Been some time since I posted before, and now that I recently moved to Florida,I thought I'd try reaching out once again.
About me: 5'11, 200 lbs and lowering, broad shoulders, see picture for more. I'm open to giving more if you want! https://imgur.com/a/1ClP2hm
I'm open to someone anywhere in the country, though someone in Florida or the south. But if God calls me to someone across the country, then that's who I am meant for. So feel free to reach out.
About my faith: I grew up in the church, and really got "serious" around 7th grade. My view is closest to Baptist, but my beliefs on the faith comr from studying His word and learning from others over sticking to what's popular with any denomination. I really like the phrase from Rupertus Meldenius: "In essentials Unity, In non-essentials Liberty, In all things Charity."
Some things I like: -History -Reading -Building and Painting plastic models -Learning to Bake -Games (Video and board, tell me your favorite board game!) -Music -Working out (new to doing it regularly) -Swimming -Laughter
I don't drink (though I believe alcohol in moderation is fine. I just hate the taste and smell personally haha) or smoke.
What I'm looking for: A woman between 22-26. Someone nice who seeks to grow every day. Someone who values kindness and promoting peace, and wants to create a family in the somewhat near future. Someone who looks for the good in life. And someone willing to meet in person within a month or so, if LDR.
If I sound interesting at all and you'd like to chat, feel free to chat/message me. Have a Blessed Day!