Rubric for door decorating contest
Reddit East 3
2013.02.13 17:00 MeGustaTortugas Reddit East 3
We are a Xbox Live Gaming Community, centered on Call of Duty games, but we branch out to most online games.
2024.02.29 18:24 graneflatsis Project 2025 is religious tyranny, threatening the freedom & liberty we fought for
Project 2025 is a comprehensive transition plan organized by ultra conservative think tank The Heritage Foundation to guide the next GOP presidential administration. It includes a 900 page set of policy proposals, a vetted list of workers to replace the federal workforce, a secret 180 day plan to facilitate drastic change and an academy to teach loyalist employees how to enact it's extremist, Evangelical agenda.
2014.10.16 15:00 Great finds online
Updated: This site now features many good deals that aren't necessarily grocery items, but all are pretty good! The deals are found online, but not just for online outlets. The focus is still primarily Amazon Prime grocery/household goods, but nowadays we let just about any good deal through the door. Note that these prices reflect what is a good deal *at Amazon,* but you can often still get a better deal at your local grocery store. Thanks for visiting!
2024.05.16 05:41 soft_tree111 Ashampoo 3D CAD Professional 2024 Best Program for Home Design - Reddit
 | Ashampoo 3D CAD Professional: submitted by soft_tree111 to u/soft_tree111 [link] [comments] Ashampoo 3D CAD Architecture 11, anyone can plan and design their future home on their PC or just do some interior decorating. A step-by-step wizard helps users achieve first results easily. The integrated project wizard guides them through all the necessary basic settings and the thematically structured user interface helps beginners settle in quickly. Whether you’re planning on building a house or just need to redecorate – you can now view the finished project in advance. The program comes with all the necessary tools to draw up floor and construction plans with detailed 2D and 3D views. A comprehensive object catalog allows users to furnish their rooms individually. The program imports SketchUp and Collada objects giving users access to millions of new objects. Features of Ashampoo 3D CAD Professional
https://preview.redd.it/3bbfix2emp0d1.jpg?width=800&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=04b6bde9469193dd4f674bd470fd9a0c5abd4ea9 |
2024.05.16 04:57 its_whirlpool4 Events for Fri 5/17 - Sun 5/19
** BOTH FRI 5/17 AND SAT 5/18 *\*
Motorcycle Safety Foundation Ride Day New Mexico Motorcycle Safety Program, 3401 Pan American Fwy Take Your First Ride: Ride a motorcycle in 30 min or less for free. MOTO Intro provides the motorcycle, helmet, gloves, and coaching. Free Riding Skills Test: Take the challenge of an advanced MSF course! SKILL Check participants, bring your motorcycle and gear! Please wear over-the-ankle footwear, long pants and long sleeves
Fri 4:30 PM Bike to Wherever Day Canteen Brewhouse, 2381 Aztec Rd. NE Learn about exciting bike routes in Albuquerque and grab some cool giveaways to kickstart your cycling adventures. Whether you’re a seasoned cyclist or just starting out, there’s something for EVERYONE at our pop-up table! We'll have Canteen will be volunteering at a table from 6:30-9am and then again at 4:30-6:30am. Receive $1 off your beer if you arrive on your bike
Fri 5 PM Pistachio Cream Ale Release Tractor Brewing, ALL locations We're bringing back this seasonal favorite for American Craft Beer Week! Inspired by pistachios produced right here in New Mexico this brew is as smooth as silk and as tasty and a fresh roasted pistachio. This is a very limited one off for us, so come and get you a pint or growler while supplies last
Fri 5 – 7 PM May Babies Birthday Celebration Rio Bravo Brewing, 1912 2nd St. NW Starting at 5pm, the first 25 people with May birthdays to show Ryan proof of their birthday month will score a $5 Rio Bravo Brewing Gift Card...oh, and Beers are on special for birthday kids for just $5! But you spend your gift card however you want! Thanks to Cake Fetish...we'll have cupcakes for the May Birthday Kids (while supplies last) We'll have prizes JUST for the May Babies! We'll also have drawings for all you non-birthday folks too If you want to get their before us...All drinks are $1 Off for May Birthdays the whole day!
Fri 5:45 – 7:15 PM 22 Veterans Suicide Awareness WOD BFit505, 11500 Menaul Blvd. NE Each month, Team Bravo & Bfit505 team up to bring awareness to veteran suicide. Before our events, we will take a moment and talk about the issue. Then we will begin with our 22 reps WOD followed by a 2.2 mile ruck/walk/run. Afterwards, we will be going out to eat for social time with friends and family. This event is for all levels
Fri 6 PM Sandia Social - May Hangout Dawn Patrol Coffee Shop, 3619 Copper Ave NE We will be hanging out around the patio and inside starting at 6pm! Bring your friends and come hang out!
Fri 6 PM Pink Therapy, A Latin Dance Fundraiser for Breast Cancer Sobremesa, 3421 Coors Blvd. NW On The One and Pachanga Productions' "Salsa Therapy" night has made its mark in the Latin Dance community, now we are using the symbolism of "Therapy" under "Pink Therapy" but this time it is to fundraise in partnership with the Pink Warrior House Foundation in order to provide outreach and increase resources for those warriors battling against breast cancer. On The One and Pachanga productions will be involved in community outreach and utilizing our resources to help those in need. Cover charge is a SUGGESTED $20 donation (ALL PROCEEDS GO TO Pink Warrior House Foundation). Cocktail hour from 6-7 PM (purchases go to PWH on selected drinks). Dance lesson from 7-8 PM. Open dance floor 8-12 AM. Be aware of Media/News coverage. We need everyone's assistance with this, PLEASE SHARE FAR AND WIDE, those warriors battling breast cancer need our help. Let's do our part. We are asking for the entire Latin dance community to come out and support. This will be one of many fundraisers that we do for organizations like PWH. Lets use our dance skills to help those in need!
Fri 6 – 8 PM May Flowers Stampin' Bingo (in person) Hip Stitch, 2320 Wisconsin St. NE Cost is $35 for 6 rounds of bingo, prizes, and make n' takes! Message for more info or to register
Fri 6 – 8:30 PM Los Domingueros Live El Vado, 2500 Central Ave SW Prepare for an unforgettable fusion of Latin dance beats and rock energy as Friday Night Live at El Vado proudly presents New Mexico's premier menudo-based band, Los Domingueros! Few bands can match the infectious joy and vibrant rhythms that they bring to the stage. A multi-talented group of musicians, they take listeners on a musical journey like no other. From the pulsating rhythms of salsa, bachata, and cumbia to the high-energy vibes of ska and reggae, sprinkled with a dash of punk and thrash, their eclectic repertoire promises an exhilarating experience for all. As always, treat your taste buds to a delightful selection of culinary delights from our diverse food pods. From savory stir-fries to tantalizing Latin flavors and heavenly desserts, there's something to satisfy every craving. And don't overlook the opportunity to quench your thirst with a crisp craft beer from Ponderosa Brewing Company, conveniently available at the El Vado Tap Room
Fri 6 – 10 PM Fork Cancer Gala FUSION ABQ, 700-708 1st St. NW The American Cancer Society is hosting Albuquerque's second #ForkCancerAbq fundraising event. VIP 6pm - 7pm. Gala 7pm - 10pm. Dress Code: Gala Attire. #ForkCancerNM is a foodie's dream, with local restaurants and bars bringing out their best to truly showcase the Taste of Albuquerque while raising money for the American Cancer Society's life-saving mission in New Mexico supporting Access to Care like patient transportation, patient lodging and 24/7 support. Along with life saving research and grants. With great opportunities to raise money, we will also have live entertainment! (tickets)
Fri 6:30 – 10 PM Community Movie Night South Valley Multipurpose Center, 2008 Larrazolo Rd. SW Feature of the night: In The Heights. Bring your dinner, blankets and chairs. Please no glass containers
Fri 7 PM Movie In The Park ABQ Food Park, 6901-B San Antonio Dr. NE ABQ Food Park is bringing back Movies In The Park, starting off the summer with a screening of The Sandlot. Arrive early to get your face painted by Local Locas Facepainting before settling in with your blankets, chairs, and appetite for a delightful evening at the park with loved ones. Indulge in delicious fare from our food trucks while enjoying this timeless film under the stars. Please do not bring outside food as we have a variety of food options at the park. Please support our local food vendors. Entry is free! Reserve your tickets
Fri 7 – 10 PM Emerald Ball Holiday Dance Studio, 5200 Eubank Blvd. NE, Ste D Celebrate the enchanting month of May by donning your finest emerald attire. Bring in the vibrant spring season by joining us in elegant semi-formal wear of rich verdant colors and dance the night away! A Foxtrot lesson will begin the evening at 7pm followed by open dancing. Call 505-508-4020 for more information. $30 non-members
Fri 8 PM – 2 AM Sucia EDC Gogo Takeover Sidewinders Bar and Grill, 4200 Central Ave SE Sucia Productions is bringing the Electric Sky to Sidewinders! No need to have EDC FOMO because Papa Sucia is ready to bring the party to you! Come join your Sucia Family for a Night of PLUR! Featuring the Sucia Gogos on multiple boxes and individual dances available in the Cabaret Room! Hosted by Papa Sucia and Sucia Gogo Madam Sativa Rico-Stratton. DJ Unzipped will be bringing the you the best EDM set for you to dance the night away!
Fri 9 PM – 1:30 AM Callaita Fridays Salt Yard West, 3700 Ellison Rd. NW DJ Soiree will be spinning under the stars in the Salt Yard, promising a night of electrifying Latin music. This 21+ event guarantees an atmosphere where you can fully embrace the rhythm without inhibition. Whether you're a die-hard fan of Reggaeton or simply seeking a night of unparalleled fun, "Callaita Fridays" is the place to be
Fri 10:30 PM – 12:15 AM FACELESS AFTER DARK - new meta horror starring Jenna Kanell of "Terrifier"! The Guild Cinema, 3405 Central Ave NE All Seats $8. Check out the trailer. Dir. Raymond Wood - 2023 - 82m. Following her breakout success as the star of a killer clown horror flick, Bowie (Jenna Kanell, TERRIFIER) now finds herself struggling to capitalize on its success. But when she is suddenly held hostage by an unhinged fan posing as that same killer clown, horror becomes her reality as she fights to survive the night and escape before he completes his sinister plan to recreate the film's fatal plot (tickets)
** Sat 5/18 *\*
Sat 8 – 10 AM Planting Corn Seeds Lynn Garden, 176 Manierre Rd., Corrales We will be planting corn seeds; a new crop for Seed2Need this year!
Sat 8 – 10 AM Run for Mercy 5K Sagebrush Community Church, 6440 Coors Blvd. NW Join our team to run with us to support Mercy Multiplied, which exists to provide opportunities for all to experience God's unconditional love, forgiveness, and life-transforming power. Mercy offers free-of-charge Residential and Outpatient Counseling Programs, as well as Outreach Services that include workshops and trainings, our Keys to Freedom discipleship study, and Keys to Freedom Retreat (register)
Sat 8 AM – 12 PM Downtown Growers' Market Robinson Park, 810 Copper Ave NW Every Saturday from 8 am - NOON! This vibrant community event connects local farmers, growers, artisans, wellness makers, and hot food vendors with the local community from mid-April to early-November. Bring friends / family or come solo to enjoy fresh food made on sight, a variety of seasonal produce, unique arts and crafts, live music, and special programming all in the heart of downtown
Sat 8 AM – 2 PM Rio Rancho's Biggest Yard Sale Cabezon Park and Community Center, 2307 Cabezon Blvd. SE, Rio Rancho FREE Admission! Clean out your garage, spare bedroom, attic and shed. Come join us to sell all of those items that were collecting dust, find a treasure that you didn’t know you needed, and enjoy a day in the park! Vendor space $35 for a 15’ x 15’ space (Tables and chairs are not provided) Must register online, NO Drop-Ins Accepted. Please call the Cabezon Community Center at 505-892-4499 for more info
Sat 9 AM Send Haley to Spain Sand Volleyball Tournament Charlie’s Sandbox, 4335 Paseo del Norte NE All proceeds go to Haley and her trip to Spain in July! $20/per player. All Skill levels! Prizes for 1st & 2nd place. 4-6 players Coed with 1 female on team. Check in @ 8:30am. More info: Jillian (505) 322-7228, Haley (505) 331-4788, Charlie (505) 239-2461
Sat 9 AM Invisible Heroes Run Believers Center of Albuquerque, 320 Waterfall Dr. SE Join Runfit and the American Society of Radiologic Technologists for the inaugural Invisible Heroes 5K Run/Walk. It is a community event being held to recognize the vital role that medical imaging professionals and radiation therapists play on the health care team and to introduce the public to these vital health care professionals. You are invited to run and walk to celebrate the important work done by invisible heroes. At packet pick-up, you will have an opportunity to tour the ASRT Museum and Archives. Age group, overall, and team awards, including a great t-shirt and finisher medals for all participants (register)
Sat 9 AM - 4 PM 16th Annual CTC Vintage Tractor & Car Show Corrales Recreation Center, 500 Jones Rd., Corrales Join us for a fun day in the Corrales Park. There will be music, food, hot rods, tractor, stationary engines and more. Proceeds Raised will benefit Corrales 4H and Historical Society. Free admission. $10 for show participants
Sat 10 AM – 12 PM Foraging for Fun(ds) Los Poblanos Open Space, 1800 Tierra Viva Pl. NW Join Rev. Ryan Tate on a foraging excursion! Rev. Tate, of the African American spiritual tradition and an IPL board member, wants to bring their loving knowledge of NM edibles and herbs to you. Discover the food right under your nose and how easy it is to enjoy! We’ll meet to explore and harvest native and edible plants. Enter the Open Space area from west bound Montano Boulevard. After foraging, we’ll gather to taste our harvest and other locally sourced treats. Sign up today to participate - space is limited. This is a fundraiser for our work for climate justice: Please give generously (Suggested minimum donation $10)
Sat 10 AM – 3 PM Homebrewer's Happy Hour Southwest Grape & Grain, 3401 Candelaria Blvd. NE Homebrewer's Happy Hour is the perfect chance for all homebrewers, wine makers, distillers, or anyone interested in learning, to connect with others, share a drink, and learn about a new subject each month! $1 off beers from 10am to 3pm. Presentation on monthly subject at 1pm with open forum to discuss after. Food truck on site for lunch! May 18th - Barley
Sat 10:30 – 11:30 AM Animal Tales with the ABQ BioPark Ernie Pyle Library, 900 Girard Blvd. SE Dive into the captivating world of animals with "Animal Tales" presented by the ABQ BioPark! Join us for a delightful reading session featuring an animal-themed book. Experience the magic as the BioPark brings along real animals and biofacts that connect to the story, giving kids an exciting opportunity to meet these creatures up close! Don't miss this engaging and educational adventure for young animal enthusiasts!
Sat 10:30 AM – 12:30 PM FolkMADS Third Saturday Family Dance Albuquerque Square Dance Center, 4915 Hawkins St. NE Dancing, song, and live music for kids of all ages. No experience needed to have fun! Children must be accompanied by an adult. Children dance free, Adults $10
Sat 11 AM – 1 PM Annual Summer Kick-Off Event! Matheson Park Elementary, 10809 Lexington Ave NE Join us as we kick off the summer with fun, a food truck, face painting, dunk tank, and more! Bring your family and your pets for a Blessing of the Pets. There is no cost to attend and all are welcome!
Sat 11 AM – 3 PM Wine + Art Afternoons Gruet Winery, 8400 Pan American East Fwy NE Prism Arts presents a new public art and social series with a special one-day multi-artist event. Join us inside the Gruet Winery with a selection of fine art, prints, paintings, jewelry, and ceramics from local artists Vanessa Alvarado, Eric Romero, Margarita Paz-Pedro, & Aaron Richardson. Enjoy unique art, amazing fine, food, and a social environment with the artists and the public. *All art purchases receive a complimentary bottle of Gruet Wine*
Sat 11 AM – 3 PM Bernalillo Family Fun Festival! Calvary Church, 4001 Osuna Rd. NE Get connected to community and enjoy a Fun Family Day!
Sat 11:30 AM – 4 PM Imaginary Friends Fest Flix Brewhouse, 3200 La Orilla Rd. NW Let your imagination run wild! Join us in the lobby to celebrate the opening of IF! Enjoy photo ops, freebies, an in-theater giveaway, and activities for the whole family. All ages are welcome!
Sat 12 PM BBQ n' Crawl Supper Rock Park, 598 Monte Alto Pl. NE Mini Crawlers 505 and Duke City RC are throwing a BBQ and crawl sesh! All rigs welcome! Please mark going if you are, so we can get enough food!
Sat 12 PM May Brew Tour - Farewell Tour Rio Bravo Brewing, 1912 2nd St. NW This is the last NM Brew Ha-Ha Beer tour for the season. The 24-25 season will start in June 2025 so stay tuned for the season lineup release. Rio Bravo Brewing, Ponderosa Brewing, Bow & Arrow Brewing, Juno Brewery. At Rio Bravo, a DD will be selected, then we’ll head to the other breweries in the order listed. T-shirts, if ordered will be delivered. For safety, a breathalyzer is available, a DD will be established and a liability waiver will be signed by all participants. Safety is of utmost importance. We want everyone to enjoy their tour and arrive home safely
Sat 12 PM Drag Bingo & Brunch! All Ages Welcome! Sidewinders Bar and Grill, 4200 Central Ave SE Join us for a Drag Queen Bingo and Brunch benefitting The Albuquerque Roadrunner Tournament 2024 (coming up in September). Hosted by Priscilla Bouvier. Doors 12pm. Show 1pm. Bingo, Prizes, Giveaways, Raffles, Cocktails, Mocktails and Fun!
Sat 12 PM Empire's 9th Anniversary - FREE PLAY ALL DAY Empire Board Game Library, 3503 Central Ave NE It's Empire's 9th Anniversary celebration and you're invited! We've been here 9 years and it's all thanks to the support we get from you, so to show our appreciation, this Saturday's celebration is our gift to you: Come in and play for free all day! Every game is on sale all weekend! We're holding raffles over the course of the day to give away some great games! So come on down and let us thank you!
Sat 12 – 3 PM STOODIS!: An AIDS/LifeCycle Fundraising Event Soo Bak Seoul Bowl, 111 Hermosa Dr. SE Help Vanessa Bowen cross the finish line – the fundraising finish line, that is! Vanessa is on a mission to raise $3,500 to participate in the 2024 AIDS/LifeCycle, a 545-mile charity bike ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles from June 2nd to 8th, 2024. Join this special fundraising event and send-off party for an afternoon of entertainment, vendors, bike tune-ups, raffle, and food and drink specials. Come prepared to support our local vendors and find out how you can win our selected giveaways. AIDS/LifeCycle benefits, and is jointly produced by, San Francisco AIDS Foundation (Tax ID # 94-2927405) and Los Angeles LGBT Center (Tax ID # 95-3567895), each of which is a nonprofit, public benefit corporation recognized as tax exempt under IRS Code Section 501(c)(3). Donations to AIDS/LifeCycle are deductible for income tax purposes, to the extent permitted by law. Vanessa Bowen (They/Them) is a Diné (Navajo) product designer and cyclist. Their work gravitates toward the intersection of design and social equity. Bowen is a former Outride Ambassador, current Chamois Butt’r and Kuat Racks Ambassador, founder of Get Native Kids on Bikes, and a supporter of AIDS/LifeCycle. If not creating in their studio in Albuquerque, they are training for a cycling event or community building for a just, equitable future (more info)
Sat 12 – 5 PM Day Camp - A Festival for Families Tin Can Alley, 6013 Signal Ave NE Day Camp is where adventure meets education, creativity, and community in a fair-like environment where a variety of youth development organizations are excited to share their programs. In partnership with Warehouse 505, and featuring organizations such as Explora, there will be workshops ands expos for kids to discover new passions across music, art, science, and more. Supporting Youth Security & Education, all dedicated funds raised will be going to New Mexico non-profit organizations
Sat 12 – 5 PM Monthly Pinball Tournament Sister, 407 Central Ave NW All skill levels and players welcome! 21+ Sign up starts at 12 pm; tournament play starts at 1 p.m. Entry fee is $5 + coin drop
Sat 1 – 5 PM United in Beer Collaboration Festival Ex Novo Brewing, 4895 Corrales Rd., Corrales United in Beer is a New Mexico statewide collaborative beer festival that benefits the Somos Unidos Foundation with 26 participating breweries, which were randomly partnered through a live draft and then together selected the beer style they would collaborate on. All beers will be showcased at the festival. Tickets are limited. Portions of ticket sales will donated to Somos Unidos Foundation, a 501(c)(3) dedicated to creating positive outcomes for New Mexicans through art, sport, community, and unity. This will be a 21+ Event. Food trucks will be on site. Included with ticket purchase is: Festival access, 8 drink tokens, and a United In Beer glass! We recommend bringing: Sunscreen, your friends, and good vibes
Sat 1 – 10 PM Boots In The Park Presents Thomas Rhett, Chris Young & Friends! Balloon Fiesta Park, 5000 Balloon Fiesta Pkwy Dust off your boots and get ready to holler, because Boots In The Park is making it's way to Albuquerque, y'all! Join us for a rootin', tootin', two-steppin' good time with none other than Thomas Rhett, Chris Young, Chris Janson, Kameron Marlowe, Dylan Schneider, Leaving Austin and beats by Luwiss Lux. We're talking about an evening filled to the brim with live tunes, finger-lickin' craft food, and the smoothest cocktails. We'll be kicking up dust with some good ol' line dancing and a whole heap more, as Balloon Fiesta Park is transformed into Albuquerque's best country music party! Past folks to grace the Boots In The Park stage are Carrie Underwood, Blake Shelton, Tim McGraw, Cody Johnson, Jon Pardi and a bunch of other country legends. But this day is gonna be one for the record books, a show that will leave y'all talking for years to come (tickets)
Sat 2 PM Annual Castro Concerto Competition Albuquerque Youth Symphony, 4407 Menaul Blvd. NE Join us to hear talented high school juniors compete for the privilege of performing with the Youth Symphony during the Albuquerque Youth Symphony Program's 2024-2025 concert season! This event is free and open to the public. We also plan to stream this event live on Facebook for anyone not able to attend in person
Sat 2 PM "Greatest Moments" - a fundraising concert for Opera On Tap New Mexico Central United Methodist Church, 201 University Blvd. NE Join us for an afternoon of music to help raise money for Opera on Tap - New Mexico! Featuring some faculty and students of University of New Mexico, along with other local professionals, we have put a program together highlighting some of the show-stopping, beautiful moments of opera and musical theater! Suggested donation $10
Sat 2 – 7 PM Rawking: An Afternoon Metal + Art + Comedy Extravaganza Juno, 1501 1st St. NW Featured performers include Light Thief, Destroy to Recreate, Guvtika, Abandoned Saviors. outdoors on the patio with Four Bands, Comedians, Artists, Vendors. Produced by Metal World Radio. 21+. $10 at the door or presales online
Sat 3 – 8 PM Albuquerque Roller Derby presents: Sandia Slammers vs. Bosque Bruisers! Expo New Mexico - Manuel Lujan Jr Exhibit Complex, 300 San Pedro Dr. NE Albuquerque Roller Derby has gotten SO big we’ve split into two teams! Sandia Slammers & Bosque Bruisers! Get your tickets for our first Home Game of the 2024 season
Sat 3:45 – 5:45 PM AND 7 - 9 PM The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 1 Flix Brewhouse, 3236 La Orilla Rd. NW Experience the Twilight saga's epic romance and thrilling fantasy BREAKING DAWN - PART 1 on the big screen! Bella and Edward, plus those they love, must deal with the chain of consequences brought on by a marriage, honeymoon, and the tumultuous birth of a child, which brings about unforeseen and shocking developments for Jacob Black (tickets)
Sat 4 – 8 PM Drink Local Downtown ABQ - May Step into the heart of Albuquerque with our thrilling, free monthly bar crawl event! Immerse yourself in the local charm as we celebrate community, culture, and creativity right in the heart of ABQ. In partnership with ABQCore Neighborhood Association, a locally organized and hosted event, we're bringing you a bar crawl experience like no other. This isn't just a crawl; it's a vibrant celebration of local businesses, a showcase of community talent, and a monthly escape into the unique flavors that make ABQ special
Sat 4 – 9 PM Summer Market ABQ Food Park, 6951 San Antonio Dr. NE Dive into the magic of summer evenings at ABQ Food Park with our captivating Summer Market! Join us for a delightful evening, where you can browse an enchanting array of offerings from local artisans and support our vibrant community businesses. Discover unique treasures crafted with love and passion by talented artisans, from handcrafted jewelry to exquisite home decor. Every purchase you make supports local creators and contributes to the thriving arts scene in our city
Sat 5 – 8 PM National Astronomy Day! Rainbow Park Observatory, 301 Southern Blvd SE, Rio Rancho The Rio Rancho Astronomical Society will host National Astronomy Day at Rainbow Park Observatory. There will be food for a donation, family activities and safe solar viewing. Dr. Tony Hull will appeal at 7 pm about his work on the James Webb Space Telescope. He will also have some info on light pollution
Sat 5 – 11 PM Beer & Jazz on the Hill Tractor Brewing, 122 Tulane Dr. SE We're bringing you a full night of brews and Jazz with the very talented Rona & Meli opening things up at 5pm and our house Jazz band Basilaris Trio closing things down at 8!
Sat 6 PM Bear Affair 4: Spanish Tapas Beer Pairing Dinner Boxing Bear Brewing, 8420 Firestone Ln. NE Join us on our patio for an ALMOST summer night paired with a variety of our seasonal beers, chef-crafted Spanish tapas, and flamenco. Featuring chef Christopher Midyette And the artist dance group Spanish Broom. Tickets are $65 per person and include a welcome beer, three course tapas style meal with beer pairings and entertainment for the evening
Sat 6 PM One Year Anniversary Celebration Urbanmama505 Kombucha, 1014 Central Ave SW, Ste A Celebrating one year of love, abundance, and sharing wellness. Right after Open Mic 4-6pm, we will be graced with a jazz concert by Davis Nelson-Hooker, an amazing local musician. Elixirs and small plates for purchase
Sat 6 – 9 PM Gone Country Saturdays with DJ Soiree Ponderosa Brewing, 1761 Bellamah Ave NW It's Gone Country Saturdays featuring the amazing DJ Soiree! Start your evening with free dance lessons at 5 pm, followed by family-friendly entertainment
Sat 7:30 – 9 PM Saturday Night Stand-Up Bosque Brewing Co - Nob Hill, 106 Girard Blvd. SE Live from ABQ, it’s… Saturday Night Stand-Up Hosted by Nax Davis! Every third Saturday of the month! Seating at 7:30 - Comedy at 8. Featured line-up of local comics includes: MEG FINN, BRYAN LAMBE, SARINA OCHOA, MARY BYRD, ROBERT EYSTER
Sat 8 PM – 1:15 AM Apparition Goth Night Historic El Rey Theater, 622 Central Ave SW A hauntingly dark, classic goth night featuring the Apparition team: DJ Ren, DJ Batboy, DJ Moonside. Doors at 8. $10 all night. 21+ Tickets at the door. Expect goth, darkwave, death rock, synthpop, dark post punk, ebm, dark dance, industrial, witch house, horror punk and more
Sat 8:30 PM – 1 AM SABOR Latin Night - SATURDAYS Bama's 1865, 6007 Osuna Rd. NE May 11th - SPECIAL GUEST DJ ITALIA! DJ Gabriel Goza & DJ Pedro will be serving you the saucy Salsa, Bachata, Cumbia, Merengue y Mas! Ample Parking, Safe Environment, Beautiful Venue, Good Food, Good Music, Good Vibes. 21+ / $10 cover
Sat 9 PM – 1 AM Cumbia + Rock en Espanol Juno, 1501 1st St. NW Grupo Super Verza with Ave. 69 and Lot Beat and DJ Tony. Baila! 21+, $15 at the door or online
** Sun 5/19 *\*
Sun 9 – 11 AM Elevated Roller Derby May Training Scrimmage Heights Community Center, 823 Buena Vista Dr. SE Officials' huddle 9:00AM. Captains' meeting at 9:20AM. First whistle 9:30AM. This is simply a black/white scrimmage. It will be used as an educational opportunity. NSO paperwork will be used as appropriate. You are encouraged to stretch your skills. Hospitality: This is a low/no production scrimmage, bring beverages and snacks for your own use. Bathrooms: The community center may not be open during the scrimmage. (That's the trade-off for a free space). You can stop at the nearby Starbucks before the event. Expectations: Skaters and Skating and Non-skating Officials are expected to follow all WFTDA Risk Management Guidelines. The venue is a designated alcohol, drug, and smoke-free space by the city of Albuquerque (sign up)
Sun 10 AM – 2 PM The Great Burque Bake On Rail Yards Market, 777 1st St. SW Get ready to whisk it all at the "Great Burque Bake-on," a special fundraiser for the non-profit Rail Yards Market: One dozen of Albuquerque's most talented bakers will dough head-to-head in a crusty competition for the ultimate bakery glory! Bakers brawl... You vote for the winners! This sugar-dusted showdown promises a blend of flour-fueled drama and buttery bravado, making it the yeast you can do to support your local confectionery champions. As these culinary wizards knead their way to the top, we guarantee you'll find their efforts both batter and sweeter than anything you've tasted before. Join us for a day of laughter, pastry, and a chance to see who rises as the crème de la crème of Burque's baking scene! 1) ORDER > Claim your Bake-on Box & exclusive market swag by ordering online May 10-16th, 2024. 2) LEARN > Follow our social media to learn about each contestant & their offering. 3) PICKUP > Grab your box of baked goodies & swag at the info booth Sunday May 19th. 4) ENJOY > Eat all the delectable goodies, savor the flavor, and read about all the contestants 5) VOTE >> Submit your votes online to choose the winners! (tickets) The Farmers' Market event is going down simultaneously with 175+ local vendors to explore, and is still FREE to enter and welcome to all. This funky fundraiser is going down during the FREE Rail Yards Farmers' Market. So you can peruse 150+ small businesses and enjoy the historic architecture while you enjoy your Great Burque Bake-on Box of goodies! All proceeds will benefit the Rail Yards Market. The Rail Yards market of Albuquerque is a certified 501(c)3 non-profit focused on building a resilient, sustainable, local economy where the surrounding historic communities thrive, all can participate, and everyone is enriched and inspired. Through food, art, education, and music, we invite the community together in an inclusive and festive atmosphere
Sun 11:30 AM The Addams Family Historic Lobo Theater, 3013 Central Ave NE THE HISTORIC LOBO THEATER is excited to bring The Addams Family to the big screen! Showing Starts at 11:30 am Tickets are ONLY $10 for General Admission $25 Brunch and a Movie Ticket $21 Brunch Only ticket
Sun 12:30 PM Annual Spring Tea Asbury UMC, 10000 Candelaria Rd. NE All are welcome to attend our Annual Spring Tea! This year's theme is "The Tapestries of Our Lives." Life can be like a tapestry; our quilt, with events, feelings, accomplishments, and even disappointments "stitched" in. Join us, for tea, while Cindy Kurey, AQS-certified quilted textiles appraiser, shares how quilting and her faith have helped her navigate life. She will also show her collection of antique, vintage, and modern quilts! There is no cost to attend, though RSVPs are required. Please call the church office 505-299-0643 or message us on Facebook to RSVP
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Motorcycle Safety Foundation Ride Day New Mexico Motorcycle Safety Program, 3401 Pan American Fwy Take Your First Ride: Ride a motorcycle in 30 min or less for free. MOTO Intro provides the motorcycle, helmet, gloves, and coaching. Free Riding Skills Test: Take the challenge of an advanced MSF course! SKILL Check participants, bring your motorcycle and gear! Please wear over-the-ankle footwear, long pants and long sleeves
- Fri: 2 - 4 PM Skills Check, 4 - 6 PM Moto Intro
- Sat: 2 - 4:30 PM Moto Intro, 4:30 - 6:30 PM Skills Check
- Fri: 7 PM
- Sat: 4 PM
Fri 4:30 PM Bike to Wherever Day Canteen Brewhouse, 2381 Aztec Rd. NE Learn about exciting bike routes in Albuquerque and grab some cool giveaways to kickstart your cycling adventures. Whether you’re a seasoned cyclist or just starting out, there’s something for EVERYONE at our pop-up table! We'll have Canteen will be volunteering at a table from 6:30-9am and then again at 4:30-6:30am. Receive $1 off your beer if you arrive on your bike
Fri 5 PM Pistachio Cream Ale Release Tractor Brewing, ALL locations We're bringing back this seasonal favorite for American Craft Beer Week! Inspired by pistachios produced right here in New Mexico this brew is as smooth as silk and as tasty and a fresh roasted pistachio. This is a very limited one off for us, so come and get you a pint or growler while supplies last
Fri 5 – 7 PM May Babies Birthday Celebration Rio Bravo Brewing, 1912 2nd St. NW Starting at 5pm, the first 25 people with May birthdays to show Ryan proof of their birthday month will score a $5 Rio Bravo Brewing Gift Card...oh, and Beers are on special for birthday kids for just $5! But you spend your gift card however you want! Thanks to Cake Fetish...we'll have cupcakes for the May Birthday Kids (while supplies last) We'll have prizes JUST for the May Babies! We'll also have drawings for all you non-birthday folks too If you want to get their before us...All drinks are $1 Off for May Birthdays the whole day!
Fri 5:45 – 7:15 PM 22 Veterans Suicide Awareness WOD BFit505, 11500 Menaul Blvd. NE Each month, Team Bravo & Bfit505 team up to bring awareness to veteran suicide. Before our events, we will take a moment and talk about the issue. Then we will begin with our 22 reps WOD followed by a 2.2 mile ruck/walk/run. Afterwards, we will be going out to eat for social time with friends and family. This event is for all levels
Fri 6 PM Sandia Social - May Hangout Dawn Patrol Coffee Shop, 3619 Copper Ave NE We will be hanging out around the patio and inside starting at 6pm! Bring your friends and come hang out!
Fri 6 PM Pink Therapy, A Latin Dance Fundraiser for Breast Cancer Sobremesa, 3421 Coors Blvd. NW On The One and Pachanga Productions' "Salsa Therapy" night has made its mark in the Latin Dance community, now we are using the symbolism of "Therapy" under "Pink Therapy" but this time it is to fundraise in partnership with the Pink Warrior House Foundation in order to provide outreach and increase resources for those warriors battling against breast cancer. On The One and Pachanga productions will be involved in community outreach and utilizing our resources to help those in need. Cover charge is a SUGGESTED $20 donation (ALL PROCEEDS GO TO Pink Warrior House Foundation). Cocktail hour from 6-7 PM (purchases go to PWH on selected drinks). Dance lesson from 7-8 PM. Open dance floor 8-12 AM. Be aware of Media/News coverage. We need everyone's assistance with this, PLEASE SHARE FAR AND WIDE, those warriors battling breast cancer need our help. Let's do our part. We are asking for the entire Latin dance community to come out and support. This will be one of many fundraisers that we do for organizations like PWH. Lets use our dance skills to help those in need!
Fri 6 – 8 PM May Flowers Stampin' Bingo (in person) Hip Stitch, 2320 Wisconsin St. NE Cost is $35 for 6 rounds of bingo, prizes, and make n' takes! Message for more info or to register
Fri 6 – 8:30 PM Los Domingueros Live El Vado, 2500 Central Ave SW Prepare for an unforgettable fusion of Latin dance beats and rock energy as Friday Night Live at El Vado proudly presents New Mexico's premier menudo-based band, Los Domingueros! Few bands can match the infectious joy and vibrant rhythms that they bring to the stage. A multi-talented group of musicians, they take listeners on a musical journey like no other. From the pulsating rhythms of salsa, bachata, and cumbia to the high-energy vibes of ska and reggae, sprinkled with a dash of punk and thrash, their eclectic repertoire promises an exhilarating experience for all. As always, treat your taste buds to a delightful selection of culinary delights from our diverse food pods. From savory stir-fries to tantalizing Latin flavors and heavenly desserts, there's something to satisfy every craving. And don't overlook the opportunity to quench your thirst with a crisp craft beer from Ponderosa Brewing Company, conveniently available at the El Vado Tap Room
Fri 6 – 10 PM Fork Cancer Gala FUSION ABQ, 700-708 1st St. NW The American Cancer Society is hosting Albuquerque's second #ForkCancerAbq fundraising event. VIP 6pm - 7pm. Gala 7pm - 10pm. Dress Code: Gala Attire. #ForkCancerNM is a foodie's dream, with local restaurants and bars bringing out their best to truly showcase the Taste of Albuquerque while raising money for the American Cancer Society's life-saving mission in New Mexico supporting Access to Care like patient transportation, patient lodging and 24/7 support. Along with life saving research and grants. With great opportunities to raise money, we will also have live entertainment! (tickets)
Fri 6:30 – 10 PM Community Movie Night South Valley Multipurpose Center, 2008 Larrazolo Rd. SW Feature of the night: In The Heights. Bring your dinner, blankets and chairs. Please no glass containers
Fri 7 PM Movie In The Park ABQ Food Park, 6901-B San Antonio Dr. NE ABQ Food Park is bringing back Movies In The Park, starting off the summer with a screening of The Sandlot. Arrive early to get your face painted by Local Locas Facepainting before settling in with your blankets, chairs, and appetite for a delightful evening at the park with loved ones. Indulge in delicious fare from our food trucks while enjoying this timeless film under the stars. Please do not bring outside food as we have a variety of food options at the park. Please support our local food vendors. Entry is free! Reserve your tickets
Fri 7 – 10 PM Emerald Ball Holiday Dance Studio, 5200 Eubank Blvd. NE, Ste D Celebrate the enchanting month of May by donning your finest emerald attire. Bring in the vibrant spring season by joining us in elegant semi-formal wear of rich verdant colors and dance the night away! A Foxtrot lesson will begin the evening at 7pm followed by open dancing. Call 505-508-4020 for more information. $30 non-members
Fri 8 PM – 2 AM Sucia EDC Gogo Takeover Sidewinders Bar and Grill, 4200 Central Ave SE Sucia Productions is bringing the Electric Sky to Sidewinders! No need to have EDC FOMO because Papa Sucia is ready to bring the party to you! Come join your Sucia Family for a Night of PLUR! Featuring the Sucia Gogos on multiple boxes and individual dances available in the Cabaret Room! Hosted by Papa Sucia and Sucia Gogo Madam Sativa Rico-Stratton. DJ Unzipped will be bringing the you the best EDM set for you to dance the night away!
Fri 9 PM – 1:30 AM Callaita Fridays Salt Yard West, 3700 Ellison Rd. NW DJ Soiree will be spinning under the stars in the Salt Yard, promising a night of electrifying Latin music. This 21+ event guarantees an atmosphere where you can fully embrace the rhythm without inhibition. Whether you're a die-hard fan of Reggaeton or simply seeking a night of unparalleled fun, "Callaita Fridays" is the place to be
Fri 10:30 PM – 12:15 AM FACELESS AFTER DARK - new meta horror starring Jenna Kanell of "Terrifier"! The Guild Cinema, 3405 Central Ave NE All Seats $8. Check out the trailer. Dir. Raymond Wood - 2023 - 82m. Following her breakout success as the star of a killer clown horror flick, Bowie (Jenna Kanell, TERRIFIER) now finds herself struggling to capitalize on its success. But when she is suddenly held hostage by an unhinged fan posing as that same killer clown, horror becomes her reality as she fights to survive the night and escape before he completes his sinister plan to recreate the film's fatal plot (tickets)
** Sat 5/18 *\*
Sat 8 – 10 AM Planting Corn Seeds Lynn Garden, 176 Manierre Rd., Corrales We will be planting corn seeds; a new crop for Seed2Need this year!
Sat 8 – 10 AM Run for Mercy 5K Sagebrush Community Church, 6440 Coors Blvd. NW Join our team to run with us to support Mercy Multiplied, which exists to provide opportunities for all to experience God's unconditional love, forgiveness, and life-transforming power. Mercy offers free-of-charge Residential and Outpatient Counseling Programs, as well as Outreach Services that include workshops and trainings, our Keys to Freedom discipleship study, and Keys to Freedom Retreat (register)
Sat 8 AM – 12 PM Downtown Growers' Market Robinson Park, 810 Copper Ave NW Every Saturday from 8 am - NOON! This vibrant community event connects local farmers, growers, artisans, wellness makers, and hot food vendors with the local community from mid-April to early-November. Bring friends / family or come solo to enjoy fresh food made on sight, a variety of seasonal produce, unique arts and crafts, live music, and special programming all in the heart of downtown
Sat 8 AM – 2 PM Rio Rancho's Biggest Yard Sale Cabezon Park and Community Center, 2307 Cabezon Blvd. SE, Rio Rancho FREE Admission! Clean out your garage, spare bedroom, attic and shed. Come join us to sell all of those items that were collecting dust, find a treasure that you didn’t know you needed, and enjoy a day in the park! Vendor space $35 for a 15’ x 15’ space (Tables and chairs are not provided) Must register online, NO Drop-Ins Accepted. Please call the Cabezon Community Center at 505-892-4499 for more info
Sat 9 AM Send Haley to Spain Sand Volleyball Tournament Charlie’s Sandbox, 4335 Paseo del Norte NE All proceeds go to Haley and her trip to Spain in July! $20/per player. All Skill levels! Prizes for 1st & 2nd place. 4-6 players Coed with 1 female on team. Check in @ 8:30am. More info: Jillian (505) 322-7228, Haley (505) 331-4788, Charlie (505) 239-2461
Sat 9 AM Invisible Heroes Run Believers Center of Albuquerque, 320 Waterfall Dr. SE Join Runfit and the American Society of Radiologic Technologists for the inaugural Invisible Heroes 5K Run/Walk. It is a community event being held to recognize the vital role that medical imaging professionals and radiation therapists play on the health care team and to introduce the public to these vital health care professionals. You are invited to run and walk to celebrate the important work done by invisible heroes. At packet pick-up, you will have an opportunity to tour the ASRT Museum and Archives. Age group, overall, and team awards, including a great t-shirt and finisher medals for all participants (register)
Sat 9 AM - 4 PM 16th Annual CTC Vintage Tractor & Car Show Corrales Recreation Center, 500 Jones Rd., Corrales Join us for a fun day in the Corrales Park. There will be music, food, hot rods, tractor, stationary engines and more. Proceeds Raised will benefit Corrales 4H and Historical Society. Free admission. $10 for show participants
Sat 10 AM – 12 PM Foraging for Fun(ds) Los Poblanos Open Space, 1800 Tierra Viva Pl. NW Join Rev. Ryan Tate on a foraging excursion! Rev. Tate, of the African American spiritual tradition and an IPL board member, wants to bring their loving knowledge of NM edibles and herbs to you. Discover the food right under your nose and how easy it is to enjoy! We’ll meet to explore and harvest native and edible plants. Enter the Open Space area from west bound Montano Boulevard. After foraging, we’ll gather to taste our harvest and other locally sourced treats. Sign up today to participate - space is limited. This is a fundraiser for our work for climate justice: Please give generously (Suggested minimum donation $10)
Sat 10 AM – 3 PM Homebrewer's Happy Hour Southwest Grape & Grain, 3401 Candelaria Blvd. NE Homebrewer's Happy Hour is the perfect chance for all homebrewers, wine makers, distillers, or anyone interested in learning, to connect with others, share a drink, and learn about a new subject each month! $1 off beers from 10am to 3pm. Presentation on monthly subject at 1pm with open forum to discuss after. Food truck on site for lunch! May 18th - Barley
Sat 10:30 – 11:30 AM Animal Tales with the ABQ BioPark Ernie Pyle Library, 900 Girard Blvd. SE Dive into the captivating world of animals with "Animal Tales" presented by the ABQ BioPark! Join us for a delightful reading session featuring an animal-themed book. Experience the magic as the BioPark brings along real animals and biofacts that connect to the story, giving kids an exciting opportunity to meet these creatures up close! Don't miss this engaging and educational adventure for young animal enthusiasts!
Sat 10:30 AM – 12:30 PM FolkMADS Third Saturday Family Dance Albuquerque Square Dance Center, 4915 Hawkins St. NE Dancing, song, and live music for kids of all ages. No experience needed to have fun! Children must be accompanied by an adult. Children dance free, Adults $10
Sat 11 AM – 1 PM Annual Summer Kick-Off Event! Matheson Park Elementary, 10809 Lexington Ave NE Join us as we kick off the summer with fun, a food truck, face painting, dunk tank, and more! Bring your family and your pets for a Blessing of the Pets. There is no cost to attend and all are welcome!
Sat 11 AM – 3 PM Wine + Art Afternoons Gruet Winery, 8400 Pan American East Fwy NE Prism Arts presents a new public art and social series with a special one-day multi-artist event. Join us inside the Gruet Winery with a selection of fine art, prints, paintings, jewelry, and ceramics from local artists Vanessa Alvarado, Eric Romero, Margarita Paz-Pedro, & Aaron Richardson. Enjoy unique art, amazing fine, food, and a social environment with the artists and the public. *All art purchases receive a complimentary bottle of Gruet Wine*
Sat 11 AM – 3 PM Bernalillo Family Fun Festival! Calvary Church, 4001 Osuna Rd. NE Get connected to community and enjoy a Fun Family Day!
Sat 11:30 AM – 4 PM Imaginary Friends Fest Flix Brewhouse, 3200 La Orilla Rd. NW Let your imagination run wild! Join us in the lobby to celebrate the opening of IF! Enjoy photo ops, freebies, an in-theater giveaway, and activities for the whole family. All ages are welcome!
Sat 12 PM BBQ n' Crawl Supper Rock Park, 598 Monte Alto Pl. NE Mini Crawlers 505 and Duke City RC are throwing a BBQ and crawl sesh! All rigs welcome! Please mark going if you are, so we can get enough food!
Sat 12 PM May Brew Tour - Farewell Tour Rio Bravo Brewing, 1912 2nd St. NW This is the last NM Brew Ha-Ha Beer tour for the season. The 24-25 season will start in June 2025 so stay tuned for the season lineup release. Rio Bravo Brewing, Ponderosa Brewing, Bow & Arrow Brewing, Juno Brewery. At Rio Bravo, a DD will be selected, then we’ll head to the other breweries in the order listed. T-shirts, if ordered will be delivered. For safety, a breathalyzer is available, a DD will be established and a liability waiver will be signed by all participants. Safety is of utmost importance. We want everyone to enjoy their tour and arrive home safely
Sat 12 PM Drag Bingo & Brunch! All Ages Welcome! Sidewinders Bar and Grill, 4200 Central Ave SE Join us for a Drag Queen Bingo and Brunch benefitting The Albuquerque Roadrunner Tournament 2024 (coming up in September). Hosted by Priscilla Bouvier. Doors 12pm. Show 1pm. Bingo, Prizes, Giveaways, Raffles, Cocktails, Mocktails and Fun!
Sat 12 PM Empire's 9th Anniversary - FREE PLAY ALL DAY Empire Board Game Library, 3503 Central Ave NE It's Empire's 9th Anniversary celebration and you're invited! We've been here 9 years and it's all thanks to the support we get from you, so to show our appreciation, this Saturday's celebration is our gift to you: Come in and play for free all day! Every game is on sale all weekend! We're holding raffles over the course of the day to give away some great games! So come on down and let us thank you!
Sat 12 – 3 PM STOODIS!: An AIDS/LifeCycle Fundraising Event Soo Bak Seoul Bowl, 111 Hermosa Dr. SE Help Vanessa Bowen cross the finish line – the fundraising finish line, that is! Vanessa is on a mission to raise $3,500 to participate in the 2024 AIDS/LifeCycle, a 545-mile charity bike ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles from June 2nd to 8th, 2024. Join this special fundraising event and send-off party for an afternoon of entertainment, vendors, bike tune-ups, raffle, and food and drink specials. Come prepared to support our local vendors and find out how you can win our selected giveaways. AIDS/LifeCycle benefits, and is jointly produced by, San Francisco AIDS Foundation (Tax ID # 94-2927405) and Los Angeles LGBT Center (Tax ID # 95-3567895), each of which is a nonprofit, public benefit corporation recognized as tax exempt under IRS Code Section 501(c)(3). Donations to AIDS/LifeCycle are deductible for income tax purposes, to the extent permitted by law. Vanessa Bowen (They/Them) is a Diné (Navajo) product designer and cyclist. Their work gravitates toward the intersection of design and social equity. Bowen is a former Outride Ambassador, current Chamois Butt’r and Kuat Racks Ambassador, founder of Get Native Kids on Bikes, and a supporter of AIDS/LifeCycle. If not creating in their studio in Albuquerque, they are training for a cycling event or community building for a just, equitable future (more info)
Sat 12 – 5 PM Day Camp - A Festival for Families Tin Can Alley, 6013 Signal Ave NE Day Camp is where adventure meets education, creativity, and community in a fair-like environment where a variety of youth development organizations are excited to share their programs. In partnership with Warehouse 505, and featuring organizations such as Explora, there will be workshops ands expos for kids to discover new passions across music, art, science, and more. Supporting Youth Security & Education, all dedicated funds raised will be going to New Mexico non-profit organizations
Sat 12 – 5 PM Monthly Pinball Tournament Sister, 407 Central Ave NW All skill levels and players welcome! 21+ Sign up starts at 12 pm; tournament play starts at 1 p.m. Entry fee is $5 + coin drop
Sat 1 – 5 PM United in Beer Collaboration Festival Ex Novo Brewing, 4895 Corrales Rd., Corrales United in Beer is a New Mexico statewide collaborative beer festival that benefits the Somos Unidos Foundation with 26 participating breweries, which were randomly partnered through a live draft and then together selected the beer style they would collaborate on. All beers will be showcased at the festival. Tickets are limited. Portions of ticket sales will donated to Somos Unidos Foundation, a 501(c)(3) dedicated to creating positive outcomes for New Mexicans through art, sport, community, and unity. This will be a 21+ Event. Food trucks will be on site. Included with ticket purchase is: Festival access, 8 drink tokens, and a United In Beer glass! We recommend bringing: Sunscreen, your friends, and good vibes
Sat 1 – 10 PM Boots In The Park Presents Thomas Rhett, Chris Young & Friends! Balloon Fiesta Park, 5000 Balloon Fiesta Pkwy Dust off your boots and get ready to holler, because Boots In The Park is making it's way to Albuquerque, y'all! Join us for a rootin', tootin', two-steppin' good time with none other than Thomas Rhett, Chris Young, Chris Janson, Kameron Marlowe, Dylan Schneider, Leaving Austin and beats by Luwiss Lux. We're talking about an evening filled to the brim with live tunes, finger-lickin' craft food, and the smoothest cocktails. We'll be kicking up dust with some good ol' line dancing and a whole heap more, as Balloon Fiesta Park is transformed into Albuquerque's best country music party! Past folks to grace the Boots In The Park stage are Carrie Underwood, Blake Shelton, Tim McGraw, Cody Johnson, Jon Pardi and a bunch of other country legends. But this day is gonna be one for the record books, a show that will leave y'all talking for years to come (tickets)
Sat 2 PM Annual Castro Concerto Competition Albuquerque Youth Symphony, 4407 Menaul Blvd. NE Join us to hear talented high school juniors compete for the privilege of performing with the Youth Symphony during the Albuquerque Youth Symphony Program's 2024-2025 concert season! This event is free and open to the public. We also plan to stream this event live on Facebook for anyone not able to attend in person
Sat 2 PM "Greatest Moments" - a fundraising concert for Opera On Tap New Mexico Central United Methodist Church, 201 University Blvd. NE Join us for an afternoon of music to help raise money for Opera on Tap - New Mexico! Featuring some faculty and students of University of New Mexico, along with other local professionals, we have put a program together highlighting some of the show-stopping, beautiful moments of opera and musical theater! Suggested donation $10
Sat 2 – 7 PM Rawking: An Afternoon Metal + Art + Comedy Extravaganza Juno, 1501 1st St. NW Featured performers include Light Thief, Destroy to Recreate, Guvtika, Abandoned Saviors. outdoors on the patio with Four Bands, Comedians, Artists, Vendors. Produced by Metal World Radio. 21+. $10 at the door or presales online
Sat 3 – 8 PM Albuquerque Roller Derby presents: Sandia Slammers vs. Bosque Bruisers! Expo New Mexico - Manuel Lujan Jr Exhibit Complex, 300 San Pedro Dr. NE Albuquerque Roller Derby has gotten SO big we’ve split into two teams! Sandia Slammers & Bosque Bruisers! Get your tickets for our first Home Game of the 2024 season
Sat 3:45 – 5:45 PM AND 7 - 9 PM The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 1 Flix Brewhouse, 3236 La Orilla Rd. NW Experience the Twilight saga's epic romance and thrilling fantasy BREAKING DAWN - PART 1 on the big screen! Bella and Edward, plus those they love, must deal with the chain of consequences brought on by a marriage, honeymoon, and the tumultuous birth of a child, which brings about unforeseen and shocking developments for Jacob Black (tickets)
Sat 4 – 8 PM Drink Local Downtown ABQ - May Step into the heart of Albuquerque with our thrilling, free monthly bar crawl event! Immerse yourself in the local charm as we celebrate community, culture, and creativity right in the heart of ABQ. In partnership with ABQCore Neighborhood Association, a locally organized and hosted event, we're bringing you a bar crawl experience like no other. This isn't just a crawl; it's a vibrant celebration of local businesses, a showcase of community talent, and a monthly escape into the unique flavors that make ABQ special
Sat 4 – 9 PM Summer Market ABQ Food Park, 6951 San Antonio Dr. NE Dive into the magic of summer evenings at ABQ Food Park with our captivating Summer Market! Join us for a delightful evening, where you can browse an enchanting array of offerings from local artisans and support our vibrant community businesses. Discover unique treasures crafted with love and passion by talented artisans, from handcrafted jewelry to exquisite home decor. Every purchase you make supports local creators and contributes to the thriving arts scene in our city
Sat 5 – 8 PM National Astronomy Day! Rainbow Park Observatory, 301 Southern Blvd SE, Rio Rancho The Rio Rancho Astronomical Society will host National Astronomy Day at Rainbow Park Observatory. There will be food for a donation, family activities and safe solar viewing. Dr. Tony Hull will appeal at 7 pm about his work on the James Webb Space Telescope. He will also have some info on light pollution
Sat 5 – 11 PM Beer & Jazz on the Hill Tractor Brewing, 122 Tulane Dr. SE We're bringing you a full night of brews and Jazz with the very talented Rona & Meli opening things up at 5pm and our house Jazz band Basilaris Trio closing things down at 8!
Sat 6 PM Bear Affair 4: Spanish Tapas Beer Pairing Dinner Boxing Bear Brewing, 8420 Firestone Ln. NE Join us on our patio for an ALMOST summer night paired with a variety of our seasonal beers, chef-crafted Spanish tapas, and flamenco. Featuring chef Christopher Midyette And the artist dance group Spanish Broom. Tickets are $65 per person and include a welcome beer, three course tapas style meal with beer pairings and entertainment for the evening
Sat 6 PM One Year Anniversary Celebration Urbanmama505 Kombucha, 1014 Central Ave SW, Ste A Celebrating one year of love, abundance, and sharing wellness. Right after Open Mic 4-6pm, we will be graced with a jazz concert by Davis Nelson-Hooker, an amazing local musician. Elixirs and small plates for purchase
Sat 6 – 9 PM Gone Country Saturdays with DJ Soiree Ponderosa Brewing, 1761 Bellamah Ave NW It's Gone Country Saturdays featuring the amazing DJ Soiree! Start your evening with free dance lessons at 5 pm, followed by family-friendly entertainment
Sat 7:30 – 9 PM Saturday Night Stand-Up Bosque Brewing Co - Nob Hill, 106 Girard Blvd. SE Live from ABQ, it’s… Saturday Night Stand-Up Hosted by Nax Davis! Every third Saturday of the month! Seating at 7:30 - Comedy at 8. Featured line-up of local comics includes: MEG FINN, BRYAN LAMBE, SARINA OCHOA, MARY BYRD, ROBERT EYSTER
Sat 8 PM – 1:15 AM Apparition Goth Night Historic El Rey Theater, 622 Central Ave SW A hauntingly dark, classic goth night featuring the Apparition team: DJ Ren, DJ Batboy, DJ Moonside. Doors at 8. $10 all night. 21+ Tickets at the door. Expect goth, darkwave, death rock, synthpop, dark post punk, ebm, dark dance, industrial, witch house, horror punk and more
Sat 8:30 PM – 1 AM SABOR Latin Night - SATURDAYS Bama's 1865, 6007 Osuna Rd. NE May 11th - SPECIAL GUEST DJ ITALIA! DJ Gabriel Goza & DJ Pedro will be serving you the saucy Salsa, Bachata, Cumbia, Merengue y Mas! Ample Parking, Safe Environment, Beautiful Venue, Good Food, Good Music, Good Vibes. 21+ / $10 cover
Sat 9 PM – 1 AM Cumbia + Rock en Espanol Juno, 1501 1st St. NW Grupo Super Verza with Ave. 69 and Lot Beat and DJ Tony. Baila! 21+, $15 at the door or online
** Sun 5/19 *\*
Sun 9 – 11 AM Elevated Roller Derby May Training Scrimmage Heights Community Center, 823 Buena Vista Dr. SE Officials' huddle 9:00AM. Captains' meeting at 9:20AM. First whistle 9:30AM. This is simply a black/white scrimmage. It will be used as an educational opportunity. NSO paperwork will be used as appropriate. You are encouraged to stretch your skills. Hospitality: This is a low/no production scrimmage, bring beverages and snacks for your own use. Bathrooms: The community center may not be open during the scrimmage. (That's the trade-off for a free space). You can stop at the nearby Starbucks before the event. Expectations: Skaters and Skating and Non-skating Officials are expected to follow all WFTDA Risk Management Guidelines. The venue is a designated alcohol, drug, and smoke-free space by the city of Albuquerque (sign up)
Sun 10 AM – 2 PM The Great Burque Bake On Rail Yards Market, 777 1st St. SW Get ready to whisk it all at the "Great Burque Bake-on," a special fundraiser for the non-profit Rail Yards Market: One dozen of Albuquerque's most talented bakers will dough head-to-head in a crusty competition for the ultimate bakery glory! Bakers brawl... You vote for the winners! This sugar-dusted showdown promises a blend of flour-fueled drama and buttery bravado, making it the yeast you can do to support your local confectionery champions. As these culinary wizards knead their way to the top, we guarantee you'll find their efforts both batter and sweeter than anything you've tasted before. Join us for a day of laughter, pastry, and a chance to see who rises as the crème de la crème of Burque's baking scene! 1) ORDER > Claim your Bake-on Box & exclusive market swag by ordering online May 10-16th, 2024. 2) LEARN > Follow our social media to learn about each contestant & their offering. 3) PICKUP > Grab your box of baked goodies & swag at the info booth Sunday May 19th. 4) ENJOY > Eat all the delectable goodies, savor the flavor, and read about all the contestants 5) VOTE >> Submit your votes online to choose the winners! (tickets) The Farmers' Market event is going down simultaneously with 175+ local vendors to explore, and is still FREE to enter and welcome to all. This funky fundraiser is going down during the FREE Rail Yards Farmers' Market. So you can peruse 150+ small businesses and enjoy the historic architecture while you enjoy your Great Burque Bake-on Box of goodies! All proceeds will benefit the Rail Yards Market. The Rail Yards market of Albuquerque is a certified 501(c)3 non-profit focused on building a resilient, sustainable, local economy where the surrounding historic communities thrive, all can participate, and everyone is enriched and inspired. Through food, art, education, and music, we invite the community together in an inclusive and festive atmosphere
Sun 11:30 AM The Addams Family Historic Lobo Theater, 3013 Central Ave NE THE HISTORIC LOBO THEATER is excited to bring The Addams Family to the big screen! Showing Starts at 11:30 am Tickets are ONLY $10 for General Admission $25 Brunch and a Movie Ticket $21 Brunch Only ticket
Sun 12:30 PM Annual Spring Tea Asbury UMC, 10000 Candelaria Rd. NE All are welcome to attend our Annual Spring Tea! This year's theme is "The Tapestries of Our Lives." Life can be like a tapestry; our quilt, with events, feelings, accomplishments, and even disappointments "stitched" in. Join us, for tea, while Cindy Kurey, AQS-certified quilted textiles appraiser, shares how quilting and her faith have helped her navigate life. She will also show her collection of antique, vintage, and modern quilts! There is no cost to attend, though RSVPs are required. Please call the church office 505-299-0643 or message us on Facebook to RSVP
2024.05.16 04:06 Heroman3003 Wayward Odyssey [Part 1]
In a flash of inspiration I suggested a small AU idea on discord... And people encouraged me to cook and cook hard. So I did and here's the result. I will likely have this as a 'backburner' fic to Broken Birds, writing one when I have no energy for other, so this will be lower in priority, but I hope it's enjoyable for you anyway.
Thanks to SpacePaladin15 for great universe, characters and letting fanfiction flow, as well as JulianSkies for inspiring the name of the fic and several other discord members (you KNOW who you are) for encouraging my horribleness. Without further ado... Let's open the doors of this AU.
CW: Arxur Dietary Habits, Child Suffering, Dismemberment
Memory Transcription Subject: Stynek, Venlil Cattle
Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2136
Fur surrounding my eyes hurt from layers upon layers of dried tears. I’ve cried so much over past months, with nobody to tell me it’s going to be okay. I missed mommy. I missed my teacher. I missed my friends. I was surrounded by strangers, some of different species, but mostly venlil. None of them cared when I cried. Most cried by themselves, and to themselves instead. Nobody wanted to really talk to me, except this one other venlil child I met. I don’t even remember the name he told me. But he did know something. That me and him wouldn’t be eaten for a while because we’re too young. Unless someone important wanted to eat us. That’s why adults are bitter at the children. We weren’t in the ‘breeding pen’, whatever that meant, but in the food pen. And until I was old enough to be ‘sufficiently edible’, I’d stay here. Adults knew that. They knew that when arxur came around and chose meals out of the crowd, they’d ignore the scrawny child, so they were bitter at my luck.
I wanted to cry again, but at this point, no tears were coming out. I wished I could talk to the boy, but we got separated when they moved me and a bunch of adults onto the ship. I overheard some adults mumbling about us being rations. That made me cry more when I realized what it meant. Did it mean I was lied to? That I really was old enough to be eaten after all? I regretted wanting to grow up sooner. I was always upset when mom told me I couldn’t do something. I had to listen both because she was my mom and because she was our Governor. Now I missed hearing her voice, even if it was just telling me that I must go to bed on time and stop snacking too much before second meal.
It’s been days since I was brought to the ship. Unlike the pens I’ve been in before, this one was slowly emptying. Before, new people always were thrown in to replace ones taken to be eaten. Every day a few people would be grabbed by the arxur and dragged out. Some screaming and pleading for mercy. Those just get ignored, as everyone, myself included, huddles together in far corner. Others would accept their fate and let themselves be taken. Those are even sadder. More people start crying after seeing someone who looks dead even while still breathing taken to be finished off.
I rubbed my temple where there was still a small wound. Every cattle taken to this ship had their implants removed. I couldn’t understand anything non-venlil were saying. Or arxur for that matter. Not that much was being said...
Suddenly every head was up and all ears were flicking. I slightly turned my head to see towards the entrance. An arxur, standing in doorway, slowly scanning the crowd with predatory glint. My sense of time was barely intact, but schedule was rigid, it was too early for feeding time today. So why are they here and why are they selecting a prey already?
Suddenly I realized that it was looking directly at me, its binocular gaze locking onto my eye. I couldn’t help my reaction, yelping and flinching away, trying to scuttle towards the corner. But it seems the arxur made its choice. As it stepped and started walking towards me, the crowd parted. It was almost like that experiment with anti-magnets my teacher showed once in class, except I was the one repelling everyone around me. I tried reaching out and crawling towards them, but they just furthered the distance. Nobody was willing to contest arxur’s chosen meal.
“Please... I don’t want to...”, I cried, but it fell on deaf ears. Then I felt it. A scaly hand of a monster wrapped around my ankle. I tried thrashing, but before I could, I was lifted upside down, hitting my head on cold hard floor in process. Ow... It hurt. My vision blurred, from both the hit dizzying me and the tears that were now filling my eyes. I was being taken out... To be devoured by predators... Daddy... Mommy... “Mommy... Mommy!”
I didn’t hear anything but my own cries and clacks of arxur claws against metal floor as I was taken out of the pen. Outside of pen always seemed like nicer place to be. It was better lit and cleaner from what little I could glimpse whenever door opened. Now I’d give anything just to go back to the dirty pen, huddled together with people who don’t care about me... I didn’t want to die! I wanted to go home! To my mom and dad... Why... Wasn’t I too young? Why did that boy lie to me?! I hated him!
I couldn’t even tell where I was being taken. I knew nothing about layout of the ship. It was cleaner, it was brighter. But also there were more arxur than singular one that kept coming into the pen to take people. Being carried upside down by the leg hurt and made it disorienting but even with that I couldn’t miss how every time I entered an arxur’s field of vision, their head sharply turning to stare directly at me right until we turned another corner. I realized that I was crying out loud by now, but of course predators knew no emotion, they ignored my anguish.
Then finally, it seems, we reached a destination. I was brought to a room with a big table. Table? It was ridiculous to think predators even use tables... But there were three sitting at it. One was an arxur, particularly large and imposing. But two others were... creatures I’ve never seen before. One glimpse was enough to tell me they were predators. And they were covered in clothing, more than I’ve seen anyone ever wear. Worst thing is though, they were clearly talking to the big arxur, with external translator on the table constantly translating arxur’s hisses into the other predator’s growling noises.
This is it. Arxur found another sapient predator. The worst monsters in the galaxy now found allies. Least I could comfort myself with was that mommy would be safe... But now I felt like it’s not just me that’s about to end, but whole universe.
The arxur that was carrying me smacked me down onto the table, a fair distance away from others. I kept crying and sobbing. I think some pleads for help and for my mom came out, but I couldn’t even make out my own words. I was so scared. I was ready for fangs to pierce into my neck. And yet I wasn’t, I wasn’t ready, please, anything by that. Both the big arxur and the new predators were staring me down in hunger as I felt the worst pain of my life. My leg, held firmly to the table, burned in agony... and then pain was all I knew there. I couldn’t feel anything below my knee other than pain. Pain... Pain! I cried out at the top of my lungs, but pain wasn’t getting better. My cry did not stop until my throat burnt, but that pain was like an itch compared to what my leg felt like.
With sight blurred, I saw it. The arxur that held me down dropped my own ankle down near the big one that seemed to be in charge, staining table with orange blood. Big arxur tore a chunk off, extending it towards other predators, but they seemed to just talk. Then big arxur stopped for a few moments, tossed the chunk into its horrid mouth, and motioned to one still holding me down.
Then, for a second time in last few minutes I experienced the most agonizing pain in my life, surpassing even the pain before at least tenfold. It burned! It hurt! My throat, already sore and barely able to make sounds got revived for just long enough to let out another cry before giving out again. I wanted to pass out as I was butchered alive, but it was just so painful that I couldn’t... I was forced to be aware of how the rest of the leg, from knee to hip, was brought towards the mystery predators, sliced in half and then... That explained why it hurt so much more. Why it still hurts even more. The blade that second chop was done with was red hot, and now used to burn away at the chunks presented to the predators. They recoiled from heat, as pieces of me were presented, but after a few moments of consideration, reached out and tore a few small pieces of orange legs off my dismembered calf, starting to chew. The one with long fur on their head, seemed to almost choke on the heat, while the one with dark coloration just stared at me intently, making eye contact that I could perceive even through pain and tears directly with me, hungrily chewing, no doubt wanting more than scrap it was given...
I couldn’t watch anymore I closed my eyes, beginning to whine and sniffle. I tried calling out for mom, but my mouth was suddenly clamped shut with a band, so I couldn’t even make any more noises. Pain made it hard to move at all, and with my leg chop being replaced with a burn, I wasn’t bleeding... so I couldn’t even get the release of death. Worse yet, predators were far from eager to finish me off. I was always told their bloodthirst was the only thing that defined them, but they just left me to suffer on the table as they kept talking in their horrible noises. Their sadism was much stronger than bloodlust, that’s the only explanation...
As I lay there, I eventually let my eyelids slide open. The new predators and arxur were engaged in some conversation, piece of leg in front of arxur in charge gone completely, and pieces in front of mystery predators visibly smaller. Arxur regularly typed some things, demonstrating some things on the screen. A bunch of warrior arxur banded together, a big star chart divided in weird ways, some weird colorless picture of countless dead prey animals, unfamiliar and likely non-sapient... And then a video. A venlil exterminator, fighting off a group of arxur. She managed to get two monsters burnt before getting overwhelmed, their mask torn off before their head is bitten off by one of the greys. The moment it happens, new predators both turn their eyes towards me instantly, opened wide with hunger. I flinched away again, tears managing to flow again. The arxur were horrible... They were about to sic those new predators on Venlil Prime, I knew it in my heart. They gave them taste of our flesh, and showed them how we might be dangerous... despite the fact that we were weakest and helpless. The new predators will make us into their cattle with ease and be empowered, before proceeding to move onto the rest of Federation...
There was movement. The predators and big arxur all stood up, then locked their hands in some contest of strength momentarily. The predator with long head fur pointed towards me, and then they all stared at me for a moment. Then the conversation moved on. The arxur holding me down grabbed me again, by my remaining leg and carried me off. I felt some blood drip down my fur with me being turned like that...
There was more walking, but it was even harder to pay attention in the haze that was covering my mind. I understood what the people that were taken without struggle felt now. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted it to be over... It hurts... It hurts so much...
I felt my arms moved, hands tied behind my back, and then I was handed over to the dark-colored mystery predator. It wasn’t as large as an arxur, but it could still lift me with ease, tossing me over the shoulder like I’m a sack of ipsom flour. A momentary look around showed that I was inside a smaller shuttle now, built very different from what the insides of larger ship was. I was... being taken elsewhere again. Why...?
Some more talking in the scary predator languages, and the door separating mystery predators and the arxur closed. Once that happened, there was instant rush. I found myself tossed into some white and cold room, still bound. I could hear the predators argue, that much loud yelling at one another could only be an argument. I felt the hum of ship starting up and vibration of launch. Then after a bit, I saw the long furred predator rush past me and towards something in the back of room, at which points it made noises so horrid, that I found myself crying again. I don’t know what it was doing back there, and I didn’t want to know. The dark colored one just kept looking over the burnt stump where my leg once was. And all throughout they kept growling and shouting at one another... I was going to be torn in half between the two, wasn’t I?
Instead I felt the binds on my arms and around my face cut. First thing, I opened my mouth and took a deep breath... Only to choke on air, as it was even cooler than I expected... White room, cool air, hungry predators looking over my bloodied bits and making horrid noises... I was about to be refrigerated to be kept for future. I was rations that arxur graciously gifted to these monsters. Why...? Why me?!
I tried crying, but my throat refused to make noise after earlier screaming tore it apart. Only low coughs escaped as tears completely filled my vision. There was more. More pain, a burst of it where my leg was supposed to be, then a small prick at my other leg... More memories, of my happy family and friends at school, replaced with grimy cattle pens and constant fear... More regrets at things I wanted to do and try, but never got to... But none of it mattered. I was already dead. Even if I was still breathing and moving, I was dead the moment a grey grabbed me and dragged me onto that cursed cattle ship of theirs... It just took me until now to truly comprehend it.
The last thing I thought of as pain dulled out, finally giving way to bliss of unconsciousness, was my mom’s soft wool and warm embrace, and how I never got to feel it properly for last time before dying... Mommy... I’m sorry...
submitted by Heroman3003 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Thanks to SpacePaladin15 for great universe, characters and letting fanfiction flow, as well as JulianSkies for inspiring the name of the fic and several other discord members (you KNOW who you are) for encouraging my horribleness. Without further ado... Let's open the doors of this AU.
CW: Arxur Dietary Habits, Child Suffering, Dismemberment
Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2136
Fur surrounding my eyes hurt from layers upon layers of dried tears. I’ve cried so much over past months, with nobody to tell me it’s going to be okay. I missed mommy. I missed my teacher. I missed my friends. I was surrounded by strangers, some of different species, but mostly venlil. None of them cared when I cried. Most cried by themselves, and to themselves instead. Nobody wanted to really talk to me, except this one other venlil child I met. I don’t even remember the name he told me. But he did know something. That me and him wouldn’t be eaten for a while because we’re too young. Unless someone important wanted to eat us. That’s why adults are bitter at the children. We weren’t in the ‘breeding pen’, whatever that meant, but in the food pen. And until I was old enough to be ‘sufficiently edible’, I’d stay here. Adults knew that. They knew that when arxur came around and chose meals out of the crowd, they’d ignore the scrawny child, so they were bitter at my luck.
I wanted to cry again, but at this point, no tears were coming out. I wished I could talk to the boy, but we got separated when they moved me and a bunch of adults onto the ship. I overheard some adults mumbling about us being rations. That made me cry more when I realized what it meant. Did it mean I was lied to? That I really was old enough to be eaten after all? I regretted wanting to grow up sooner. I was always upset when mom told me I couldn’t do something. I had to listen both because she was my mom and because she was our Governor. Now I missed hearing her voice, even if it was just telling me that I must go to bed on time and stop snacking too much before second meal.
It’s been days since I was brought to the ship. Unlike the pens I’ve been in before, this one was slowly emptying. Before, new people always were thrown in to replace ones taken to be eaten. Every day a few people would be grabbed by the arxur and dragged out. Some screaming and pleading for mercy. Those just get ignored, as everyone, myself included, huddles together in far corner. Others would accept their fate and let themselves be taken. Those are even sadder. More people start crying after seeing someone who looks dead even while still breathing taken to be finished off.
I rubbed my temple where there was still a small wound. Every cattle taken to this ship had their implants removed. I couldn’t understand anything non-venlil were saying. Or arxur for that matter. Not that much was being said...
Suddenly every head was up and all ears were flicking. I slightly turned my head to see towards the entrance. An arxur, standing in doorway, slowly scanning the crowd with predatory glint. My sense of time was barely intact, but schedule was rigid, it was too early for feeding time today. So why are they here and why are they selecting a prey already?
Suddenly I realized that it was looking directly at me, its binocular gaze locking onto my eye. I couldn’t help my reaction, yelping and flinching away, trying to scuttle towards the corner. But it seems the arxur made its choice. As it stepped and started walking towards me, the crowd parted. It was almost like that experiment with anti-magnets my teacher showed once in class, except I was the one repelling everyone around me. I tried reaching out and crawling towards them, but they just furthered the distance. Nobody was willing to contest arxur’s chosen meal.
“Please... I don’t want to...”, I cried, but it fell on deaf ears. Then I felt it. A scaly hand of a monster wrapped around my ankle. I tried thrashing, but before I could, I was lifted upside down, hitting my head on cold hard floor in process. Ow... It hurt. My vision blurred, from both the hit dizzying me and the tears that were now filling my eyes. I was being taken out... To be devoured by predators... Daddy... Mommy... “Mommy... Mommy!”
I didn’t hear anything but my own cries and clacks of arxur claws against metal floor as I was taken out of the pen. Outside of pen always seemed like nicer place to be. It was better lit and cleaner from what little I could glimpse whenever door opened. Now I’d give anything just to go back to the dirty pen, huddled together with people who don’t care about me... I didn’t want to die! I wanted to go home! To my mom and dad... Why... Wasn’t I too young? Why did that boy lie to me?! I hated him!
I couldn’t even tell where I was being taken. I knew nothing about layout of the ship. It was cleaner, it was brighter. But also there were more arxur than singular one that kept coming into the pen to take people. Being carried upside down by the leg hurt and made it disorienting but even with that I couldn’t miss how every time I entered an arxur’s field of vision, their head sharply turning to stare directly at me right until we turned another corner. I realized that I was crying out loud by now, but of course predators knew no emotion, they ignored my anguish.
Then finally, it seems, we reached a destination. I was brought to a room with a big table. Table? It was ridiculous to think predators even use tables... But there were three sitting at it. One was an arxur, particularly large and imposing. But two others were... creatures I’ve never seen before. One glimpse was enough to tell me they were predators. And they were covered in clothing, more than I’ve seen anyone ever wear. Worst thing is though, they were clearly talking to the big arxur, with external translator on the table constantly translating arxur’s hisses into the other predator’s growling noises.
This is it. Arxur found another sapient predator. The worst monsters in the galaxy now found allies. Least I could comfort myself with was that mommy would be safe... But now I felt like it’s not just me that’s about to end, but whole universe.
The arxur that was carrying me smacked me down onto the table, a fair distance away from others. I kept crying and sobbing. I think some pleads for help and for my mom came out, but I couldn’t even make out my own words. I was so scared. I was ready for fangs to pierce into my neck. And yet I wasn’t, I wasn’t ready, please, anything by that. Both the big arxur and the new predators were staring me down in hunger as I felt the worst pain of my life. My leg, held firmly to the table, burned in agony... and then pain was all I knew there. I couldn’t feel anything below my knee other than pain. Pain... Pain! I cried out at the top of my lungs, but pain wasn’t getting better. My cry did not stop until my throat burnt, but that pain was like an itch compared to what my leg felt like.
With sight blurred, I saw it. The arxur that held me down dropped my own ankle down near the big one that seemed to be in charge, staining table with orange blood. Big arxur tore a chunk off, extending it towards other predators, but they seemed to just talk. Then big arxur stopped for a few moments, tossed the chunk into its horrid mouth, and motioned to one still holding me down.
Then, for a second time in last few minutes I experienced the most agonizing pain in my life, surpassing even the pain before at least tenfold. It burned! It hurt! My throat, already sore and barely able to make sounds got revived for just long enough to let out another cry before giving out again. I wanted to pass out as I was butchered alive, but it was just so painful that I couldn’t... I was forced to be aware of how the rest of the leg, from knee to hip, was brought towards the mystery predators, sliced in half and then... That explained why it hurt so much more. Why it still hurts even more. The blade that second chop was done with was red hot, and now used to burn away at the chunks presented to the predators. They recoiled from heat, as pieces of me were presented, but after a few moments of consideration, reached out and tore a few small pieces of orange legs off my dismembered calf, starting to chew. The one with long fur on their head, seemed to almost choke on the heat, while the one with dark coloration just stared at me intently, making eye contact that I could perceive even through pain and tears directly with me, hungrily chewing, no doubt wanting more than scrap it was given...
I couldn’t watch anymore I closed my eyes, beginning to whine and sniffle. I tried calling out for mom, but my mouth was suddenly clamped shut with a band, so I couldn’t even make any more noises. Pain made it hard to move at all, and with my leg chop being replaced with a burn, I wasn’t bleeding... so I couldn’t even get the release of death. Worse yet, predators were far from eager to finish me off. I was always told their bloodthirst was the only thing that defined them, but they just left me to suffer on the table as they kept talking in their horrible noises. Their sadism was much stronger than bloodlust, that’s the only explanation...
As I lay there, I eventually let my eyelids slide open. The new predators and arxur were engaged in some conversation, piece of leg in front of arxur in charge gone completely, and pieces in front of mystery predators visibly smaller. Arxur regularly typed some things, demonstrating some things on the screen. A bunch of warrior arxur banded together, a big star chart divided in weird ways, some weird colorless picture of countless dead prey animals, unfamiliar and likely non-sapient... And then a video. A venlil exterminator, fighting off a group of arxur. She managed to get two monsters burnt before getting overwhelmed, their mask torn off before their head is bitten off by one of the greys. The moment it happens, new predators both turn their eyes towards me instantly, opened wide with hunger. I flinched away again, tears managing to flow again. The arxur were horrible... They were about to sic those new predators on Venlil Prime, I knew it in my heart. They gave them taste of our flesh, and showed them how we might be dangerous... despite the fact that we were weakest and helpless. The new predators will make us into their cattle with ease and be empowered, before proceeding to move onto the rest of Federation...
There was movement. The predators and big arxur all stood up, then locked their hands in some contest of strength momentarily. The predator with long head fur pointed towards me, and then they all stared at me for a moment. Then the conversation moved on. The arxur holding me down grabbed me again, by my remaining leg and carried me off. I felt some blood drip down my fur with me being turned like that...
There was more walking, but it was even harder to pay attention in the haze that was covering my mind. I understood what the people that were taken without struggle felt now. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted it to be over... It hurts... It hurts so much...
I felt my arms moved, hands tied behind my back, and then I was handed over to the dark-colored mystery predator. It wasn’t as large as an arxur, but it could still lift me with ease, tossing me over the shoulder like I’m a sack of ipsom flour. A momentary look around showed that I was inside a smaller shuttle now, built very different from what the insides of larger ship was. I was... being taken elsewhere again. Why...?
Some more talking in the scary predator languages, and the door separating mystery predators and the arxur closed. Once that happened, there was instant rush. I found myself tossed into some white and cold room, still bound. I could hear the predators argue, that much loud yelling at one another could only be an argument. I felt the hum of ship starting up and vibration of launch. Then after a bit, I saw the long furred predator rush past me and towards something in the back of room, at which points it made noises so horrid, that I found myself crying again. I don’t know what it was doing back there, and I didn’t want to know. The dark colored one just kept looking over the burnt stump where my leg once was. And all throughout they kept growling and shouting at one another... I was going to be torn in half between the two, wasn’t I?
Instead I felt the binds on my arms and around my face cut. First thing, I opened my mouth and took a deep breath... Only to choke on air, as it was even cooler than I expected... White room, cool air, hungry predators looking over my bloodied bits and making horrid noises... I was about to be refrigerated to be kept for future. I was rations that arxur graciously gifted to these monsters. Why...? Why me?!
I tried crying, but my throat refused to make noise after earlier screaming tore it apart. Only low coughs escaped as tears completely filled my vision. There was more. More pain, a burst of it where my leg was supposed to be, then a small prick at my other leg... More memories, of my happy family and friends at school, replaced with grimy cattle pens and constant fear... More regrets at things I wanted to do and try, but never got to... But none of it mattered. I was already dead. Even if I was still breathing and moving, I was dead the moment a grey grabbed me and dragged me onto that cursed cattle ship of theirs... It just took me until now to truly comprehend it.
The last thing I thought of as pain dulled out, finally giving way to bliss of unconsciousness, was my mom’s soft wool and warm embrace, and how I never got to feel it properly for last time before dying... Mommy... I’m sorry...
2024.05.16 03:54 JiffyPawp [Tenant - US - WI] Non-standard Rental Agreement Language
Hey everyone. My partner and I are planning on moving and received a residential rental agreement in Wisconsin from a potential landlord, however, it is quite a bit different than the standard WI residential lease agreements that we have received in the past. A TurboTenant template was used and modified to generate the lease. We are looking for some quick advice on whether or not the following language / clauses should be of concern to us as tenants:
1) “Landlord shall have the right at all reasonable times during the term of this agreement to enter the Property for the purpose of inspecting and exhibiting the Property and all buildings and improvements thereon. In non-emergency situations, Landlord will make a good faith effort to notify Tenants at least 24 hours prior to entry by one of the following methods: telephone message, email message, or door hanger, and having made such good faith effort shall enter as necessary. In emergency situation, or of a repair is requested by the Tenants, Landlord is permitted to enter immediately without prior notice.”
2) “Tenants are required to notify the Landlord in writing of any anticipated absence from the Property in excess of 7 days and shall make arrangements for the Property to be routinely checked on during the absence. Such written notice must be provided no later than the first day of such absence. Landlord may enter the Property at any time for any reasonable purpose during Tenants’ absence.”
3) “Tenants are hereby notified that a negative credit report statement may be submitted to a credit reporting agency if Tenants fail to fulfill the terms if this Lease Agreement”
4) “The Tenants are entrusted with the care and maintenance of the rented Property during the term of the lease. Specifically, the Tenants are responsible for promptly addressing minor maintenance tasks and repairs that arise in the course of occupancy. These tasks may include, but are not limited to:
a. Routine cleaning and upkeep of the interior of the Property, including floors, walls, and fixtures.
b. Please be mindful that the kitchen is fitted with laminate flooring. To prevent any potential expansion, we kindly ask that you ensure the floor remains dry at all times. Promptly attending to any spills or moisture will help preserve the condition of the flooring material.
c. Regular replacement of light bulbs, and air filters, as needed.
d. Minor repairs to plumbing fixtures, such as fixing leaks or clearing clogs caused by normal usage.
e. The rental unit is equipped with a range, over-the-range microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, washer, and dryer for the convenience of Tenants. It is the responsibility of Tenants to ensure the proper maintenance, care, and cleanliness of these appliances throughout the duration of the tenancy. Tenants are responsible in reporting any malfunctions to the Landlord in a timely manner.
f. Proper disposal of trash and recycling in accordance with local regulations.
g. The Tenants are responsible for upholding cleanliness standards around the Property, including ensuring that no items are left outside and discouraging loitering on the Property. It is expected that the Tenants take proactive measures to maintain the tidiness and appearance of the Property at all times.
h. Tenants are not permitted paint anything including but not limited to walls, ceiling, cabinets or any Property.
i. Tenants shall maintain proper humidity to not facilitate growth of mold or mildew.
j. Tenants are allowed to hang pictures, clocks, and other decorative items on the walls of the rental unit. However, it is important to note that all decorations must be removed and the walls restored to their original condition upon the termination of the Lease Agreement. This includes filling any holes or damages caused by hanging the items. Failure to return the walls to their original state may result in deductions from the security deposit or additional charges for repair and restoration.
k. The Tenants agree to maintain the lawn and landscaping of the Property in a neat and orderly condition throughout the term of the lease, which includes regular mowing, watering, weeding, and trimming of grass, shrubs, and trees. The Tenants are responsible for providing all necessary equipment and materials for lawn maintenance unless otherwise agreed upon in writing by the Landlord. If the Tenants are unable or unwilling to perform lawn maintenance, the Landlord reserves the right to arrange for professional lawn care services at the Tenant's expense. The Tenants shall promptly report any lawn care issues or concerns to the Landlord for resolution. Furthermore, the Tenants agree to ensure that the lawn and landscaping are maintained in accordance with local ordinances and regulations to prevent fines or penalties imposed by the city or relevant authorities.
l. Tenants take responsibility of snow maintenance during winter months and agrees to ensure the safe passage and usability of driveways on the Property. This includes promptly arranging for snow removal and salting or sanding of walkways and driveways following snowfall or icy conditions. The Tenants agree to assist in snow maintenance efforts by promptly reporting any snow or ice accumulation that poses a safety hazard to the Landlord for prompt resolution.
m. Tenants shall not keep on the Property any item of a dangerous, flammable, or explosive character that might unreasonably increase the danger of fire or explosion on the Property, or that might be considered hazardous or extra hazardous by any responsible insurance company.”
Apologies for the length. Thanks in advance!
submitted by JiffyPawp to Landlord [link] [comments]
1) “Landlord shall have the right at all reasonable times during the term of this agreement to enter the Property for the purpose of inspecting and exhibiting the Property and all buildings and improvements thereon. In non-emergency situations, Landlord will make a good faith effort to notify Tenants at least 24 hours prior to entry by one of the following methods: telephone message, email message, or door hanger, and having made such good faith effort shall enter as necessary. In emergency situation, or of a repair is requested by the Tenants, Landlord is permitted to enter immediately without prior notice.”
2) “Tenants are required to notify the Landlord in writing of any anticipated absence from the Property in excess of 7 days and shall make arrangements for the Property to be routinely checked on during the absence. Such written notice must be provided no later than the first day of such absence. Landlord may enter the Property at any time for any reasonable purpose during Tenants’ absence.”
3) “Tenants are hereby notified that a negative credit report statement may be submitted to a credit reporting agency if Tenants fail to fulfill the terms if this Lease Agreement”
4) “The Tenants are entrusted with the care and maintenance of the rented Property during the term of the lease. Specifically, the Tenants are responsible for promptly addressing minor maintenance tasks and repairs that arise in the course of occupancy. These tasks may include, but are not limited to:
a. Routine cleaning and upkeep of the interior of the Property, including floors, walls, and fixtures.
b. Please be mindful that the kitchen is fitted with laminate flooring. To prevent any potential expansion, we kindly ask that you ensure the floor remains dry at all times. Promptly attending to any spills or moisture will help preserve the condition of the flooring material.
c. Regular replacement of light bulbs, and air filters, as needed.
d. Minor repairs to plumbing fixtures, such as fixing leaks or clearing clogs caused by normal usage.
e. The rental unit is equipped with a range, over-the-range microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, washer, and dryer for the convenience of Tenants. It is the responsibility of Tenants to ensure the proper maintenance, care, and cleanliness of these appliances throughout the duration of the tenancy. Tenants are responsible in reporting any malfunctions to the Landlord in a timely manner.
f. Proper disposal of trash and recycling in accordance with local regulations.
g. The Tenants are responsible for upholding cleanliness standards around the Property, including ensuring that no items are left outside and discouraging loitering on the Property. It is expected that the Tenants take proactive measures to maintain the tidiness and appearance of the Property at all times.
h. Tenants are not permitted paint anything including but not limited to walls, ceiling, cabinets or any Property.
i. Tenants shall maintain proper humidity to not facilitate growth of mold or mildew.
j. Tenants are allowed to hang pictures, clocks, and other decorative items on the walls of the rental unit. However, it is important to note that all decorations must be removed and the walls restored to their original condition upon the termination of the Lease Agreement. This includes filling any holes or damages caused by hanging the items. Failure to return the walls to their original state may result in deductions from the security deposit or additional charges for repair and restoration.
k. The Tenants agree to maintain the lawn and landscaping of the Property in a neat and orderly condition throughout the term of the lease, which includes regular mowing, watering, weeding, and trimming of grass, shrubs, and trees. The Tenants are responsible for providing all necessary equipment and materials for lawn maintenance unless otherwise agreed upon in writing by the Landlord. If the Tenants are unable or unwilling to perform lawn maintenance, the Landlord reserves the right to arrange for professional lawn care services at the Tenant's expense. The Tenants shall promptly report any lawn care issues or concerns to the Landlord for resolution. Furthermore, the Tenants agree to ensure that the lawn and landscaping are maintained in accordance with local ordinances and regulations to prevent fines or penalties imposed by the city or relevant authorities.
l. Tenants take responsibility of snow maintenance during winter months and agrees to ensure the safe passage and usability of driveways on the Property. This includes promptly arranging for snow removal and salting or sanding of walkways and driveways following snowfall or icy conditions. The Tenants agree to assist in snow maintenance efforts by promptly reporting any snow or ice accumulation that poses a safety hazard to the Landlord for prompt resolution.
m. Tenants shall not keep on the Property any item of a dangerous, flammable, or explosive character that might unreasonably increase the danger of fire or explosion on the Property, or that might be considered hazardous or extra hazardous by any responsible insurance company.”
Apologies for the length. Thanks in advance!
2024.05.16 03:54 -PepeArown- The Melodic Forest: Concept for an End Biome
 | I have four ideas for End biomes, the mobs within them, their uses, etc, so, I'll be splitting the four of them into four separate posts to write and upload whenver I feel like. I'll paste the links to all of the previous posts in each so that you can go back and read them for context, if you want to. submitted by -PepeArown- to minecraftsuggestions [link] [comments] And, also, here's two miscellaneous ideas that'll be imperative to understanding my ideas for each biome. Hydrender A dark purple liquid that resembles water and that generates exclusively in the tilt bogs (another End biome idea that I will have to write another post on). It can be bucketed or tubed, and flows just like water or lava. It behaves similarly to water, but you'll swim 25% more slowly in it, and it's even cloudier than water, both looking into it, and swimming in it. You'll of course drown in it, unless you make a potion of hydrender breathing. (My hydrender bog post will get into how to make one.) Also, Endermen aren't hurt by it, and can and will swim in it, it evaporates in the Nether, and all aquatic mobs aside from guardians will die trying to swim in it. Amethyst Tubes These would esentially be purple test tubes (the kind you fill up with liquids, usually for experiments): an End equivalent of the glass bottle crafted with 3 amethyst shards. I picked amethyst because it not only matches the color scheme of the End, but it's already used to make tinted glass, and spyglasses, two glass related items. Plus, crystals are reflective in general. Amethyst tubes can be filled with hydrender. Drinking a tube of hydrender will randomly teleport you, like consuming chorus fruit, only that no hunger will be retored. These tubes' main use is for brewing new potions, which this four post series will get into. The Melodic Forest Anyways, right now, the "main" biome in the End is basically one giant forest of chorus plants. This is a sort of lackluster biome on it own, but a great building block for my idea for the melodic forest: a forest of several species of End plants. I'm calling it melodic because all the plants here will be named after musical terms: verse plants, chorus plants, bridge plants, and chords. Verse, Chorus, and Bridge Plants I want to make it clear that these three plants are not trees, and, even then, aren't meant to be a copy of the Nether's giant fungi, either. They're bizarre succulent/cactus-like plants that can be used for food or construction, but not for helpful tools like sticks, crafting tables, etc. Although, they'd all be around tree height, which is why I'm dubbing this biome a forest. All 3 of these plants can be grown with verse, chorus, and bridge flowers on End stone respectively. When these flowers have stopped growing, there's a chance a new block: the melodic blossom, an expansive white-pedaled flower that can grow from any side of the chorus flower not linked up to the plant will grow. Not sure what a melodic blossom could do beyond decoration, but maybe being able to place them on blocks other than what I'll dub "melodic flowers" would give builders tons of exciting ideas. Verse Plants The shortest and most common plant in this biome. They'd be a dark fuchsia/red violet in color, and tend to branch less than a chorus plant. Verse fruit can't be eaten. Instead, brewing it with a hydrender tube will give you a void elixir. Void elixir is esentially the End equivalent of an awkward potion: the base ingredient for all main End potions. When popping verse fruit in a furnace, you can then use it to make fuchsur (pronounced "few sure") blocks. This includes the blocks you can already make with purpur, but also doors, fences, gates, trapdoors, buttons, and pressure plants. Fuchsur, hence its name, would take on a fuchsia/hot pink look. Something like this, but maybe a bit more washed out to match purpur. https://preview.redd.it/4wzb5bckso0d1.jpg?width=900&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e72e6f829bb2d298c6e2b703e0c627ad95124f89 Chorus Plants These are mostly fine as is. They'd just be rarer in melodic forests to compensate for the abundance of verse plants, now grow melodic blossoms, and can be made into all the new building blocks I just described with fuchsur. Bridge Plants Like a standard song structure only has one bridge per song, only one bridge plant will grow on an island in a melodic forest. (Large melodic forests will of course have multiple islands.) They're substantially taller and thicker than chorus plants, forming what I'll call a "tornado shape". with their branches. So, basically, when you try growing more and more flowers on the same chorus plant. https://preview.redd.it/ewye97oito0d1.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d436f9ed5e0f6b0cb79103a8d6babb3586bf2fc0 Not nearly as big as this example, though. Big enough to be bizarre and stand out from chorus plants, and, well, have the tornado shape, but not big enough to burn down your PC every time you try to cut one down. They'd be dark turquoise in color, kind of like Ender pearls or sculk. Unlike verse fruit, you can eat bridge fruit. Eating bridge fruit will teleport you to the nearest bridge plant, effectively letting you eat them to "bridge" in the End. Unlike chorus fruit, this comes with an even longer cooldown of about 10 seconds. Just walk to the island's edge closest to where the nearest bridge plant is, eat a bridge fruit, and you'll be teleported to another island. This is the main reason why only one bridge fruit comes per island, so it doesn't clog up your teleportation periphery with bridge fruit. However, you can hone in where you want to teleport by growing bridge plants nearby. In my post for my idea for the obisidan cliffs biome, I will be detailing a way you can "acnhor" the spot you teleport to with bridge fruit without having any plants nearby. While I'd argue this is easily the most useful melodic plant just from the fruit alone, you can also pop them to make turquor, which would give you dark turquoise/teal colored building blocks. They'd be about this color. https://preview.redd.it/h9d59671vo0d1.jpg?width=750&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=69f4a9f6a8672bed8823ed3c8837f69376c35d99 So, that's 2 new building sets: fuchsur and turqur, to complement purpur. Chords Small, one block sized purple succulents that dot the melodic forest floor. Not much use beyond being decorative, but you could also put chords in flower pots. Citrusite A brownish orange stone that can be found in clumps within the melodic forest, and other End biomes as well. Can be used as an alternative for stone for tools or furnaces, but can also be made into all decorative blocks that blackstone, deepslate, tuff, etc. can. I'll be detailing a crafting recipe that requires citrusite in my obsidian cliffs biome post. Alright. Time to get into mobs you'll find in this biome... Well, actually, I think it'd make sense if they spawned in several End biomes, but they'd definitely be more common here, as it's more "hospitable", at leats in Ender terms.. Baby Endermen Not a new mob per se, but rather a variant of a mob we already have. Unlike adult Endermen, they're not mature or skilled enought to teleport to the Overworld or Nether, so they'd stay in the melodic forests with their Ender parents, another new mob I'll get into. Also, they're not strong enough to pick up blocks. If you look at, hit, or attempt to hit a baby Enderman with a projectile, they'll start shaking and crying, proceeding to teleport eratically like how baby zombies are even faster than adults. This'll cause them to make an awful screechy, whiny noise that'll alert all nearby Ender parents. You're not meant to kill baby Enderman. Killing them will drop nothing, and will be rather hard with how often they'll teleport in comparison to adults. However, if you do manage to make one upset, there's a chance they'll cry, and drop a tear of Ender, textured similarly to a ghast tear, only purplish to reflect that it's made mostly of hydrender, not water. A tear of Ender can be brewed with a void elixir to make a potion of Ender skin. This potions gives you the Ender skin effect, which lets you teleport away every time you're hit. One giant catch, though. With Ender skin, you're also hydrophobic. If you get in water, it'll damage you, and you'll immediately teleport away. If you use this effect while it's raining, you'll probably die, or pray you get lucky enough to be teleported to safety. You can stand in hydrender with the effect just fine, though. Ender Parents Taller, bulkier, stronger variants of Endermen with even more health. (With a build more like the warden or iron golems.) Their black bodies would be covered in several protruding amethyst shards. Normally neutral, but will attack you if you attack them, or upset a baby Enderman. They'll attack with normal hits, but can also pick up blocks and throw them at you, including common End blocks like End stone and citrusite. They'll destroy the terrain just as revenge for you upsetting their kids. And, given what dimension they're in, yes, they'll teleport. They're also hydrophobic like regular Endermen. Upon death, an Ender parent will drop more Ender pearls than a regular Enderman, but also a few amethyst shards. This gives you another way to get amethyst shards to make tubes, but still incentivizes you to visit geodes if you want clusters for decorative purposes. Drifts (Yes, I took inspiration from Alex's Mobs for this.) If you didn't know already, the strider was originally going to look like this at one point: Sorry for the bad magic wand job So, for the drift, why not have Mojang reutilize this model somehow? I think it sort of looks like a tardigrade. Drifts would be darker purple colored tardigrades that spawn over the void in the End. (Any biome, not just the melodic forest.) Not sure if Mojang should give them four eyes, or no eyes. Either would be weird enough for the End, I presume. Like striders, they're completely passive, and can be ridden over the void (instead of lava) with a saddle. Real tardigrades like eating algae, but, I don't think that's really fitting for drifts, given that they'd be about the size of pigs, and not microscopic like their real world equivalents. You'd actually need two items to steer a drift: the chorus fruit on a stick and the bridge fruit on a stick. Chorus fruit on a stick will cause them to travel horizontally, and bridge fruit on a stick will cause them to ascend or descend, depending on what direction you're guiding them in. Since drifts are meant to be an "elytra lite", you'll need to find a balance between using the two stick items to compensate, and make sure neither break while over the void on a drift's back. Even after you get the elytra, however, I'd like to think drifts would be pretty useful for exploring the underside of End islands, which I may write up my ideas on. Drifts can be bred with bridge fruit. They can fly, though, so you'd best do it in an enclosed area so that none of your drifts escape. My next writeup will be on my idea for the tilt bog biome. |
2024.05.16 03:05 AbnormalAsTheRest [ A4A ] The Narrator In Your Head Knows Best [ Narrator x Listener ] [ Stanley Parable Inspired ] [ Alternative ] [ Witty ] [ Comedy ] [ Gaslight ] [ No SFX ] [ STANDALONE SCRIPT ]
[ STANDALONE SCRIPT ]
[ Credits are required, please comment if you fill my script ] [ Monetization is fine, contact if you use a paywall ] [ Small line edits are okay for a personal flair, larger edits require permission ] [ Gendename swapping is fine ] [ Title change is okay ] [ No AI voice ]
This is an experimental piece. I wanted to play with a voice similar to the narrator of the Stanley Parable, and I'm kind of proud with how this turned out. It’s short, sweet, and a little different. This piece has no effects but you are free to add some. Enjoy ~
Word Count: 1200
Synopsis: Bobbin does not know what is best. Luckily, I am also Bobbin, but better. Bobbin does not like that.
listener speaking = [...]
Today is not a special day for our favourite protagonist. They sit where they were yesterday, and where they will be tomorrow. Nothing has changed. And nothing is new. Perhaps something exciting is in order.
[ … ]
Now they are wondering why they hear a voice in their head. It is just their thoughts. It has always been this way.
What is this? Something has changed. They no longer sit where they were yesterday. And they have acquired a new name.
It is… Bobbin. Hello Bobbin. I am Bobbin and so are you. Everything is normal. Everything is the same.
Bobbin stands in a strange corridor. It’s a little bright and grey. Doors line the walls, but Bobbin knows they do not move. Bobbin can only go one way.
[ … ]
And Bobbin wonders why they can only go one way. They stand, pondering what it means to move. But all they need to do is put one foot forward. C’mon Bobbin. Time is running.
Bobbin walks through the hallway. They jiggle the door handles even though they know they will go nowhere.
[ … ]
Bobbin is now yanking on a door like a mad person. But this is why we love Bobbin. They always find entertainment in the blandest of moments. But this door is just a decoration. Bobbin really must get going.
Finally collecting themself, Bobbin continues walking. Their footsteps are quiet on the tiles. I mean carpet. They are content. This is a very nice corridor.
Bobbin reaches the end of the hallway. There are two paths. The right is painted red, the left green.
Bobbin looks both ways and decides to enter the green space!
[ … ]
Bobbin is very thoughtful. They appreciate the textures of the crossroad they wait at. Yes, it is very nice, the rendering is magnificent.
Bobbin nods in agreement and goes to the left hallway.
[ … ]
No. Bobbin enters the left hallway!
[ … ]
[ sigh ]
Let me just…
There. The grey corridor leads to a turn into a green-painted path. There was never another hallway. They can only go one way.
Bobbin skips merrily into the green space. They think “Yes! This is where I should be. I adore the colour green.”
Oh- Bobbin is now running! They are completely ignoring the carefully painted walls and plushy tile-I mean carpet- of the green hallway. My, they love the freedom! The wind! The rush of adrenaline! Oh this is what it’s meant to move and be alive!
That’s enough.
Bobbin trips into a library. Bobbin has been here all along. The library is old, its wood rich with age. Towers of shelves hold the lovely books, their shapes and designs perfectly filling the space.
But there are no people.
Bobbin wanders between the aisles. The lounge of leather couches is empty as well. Bobbin wonders where the people are. Is the library closed? Are they playing a game?
Bobbin likes games. Maybe this is hide-and-seek.
They raise their head high with determination. They will surely win. Bobbin begins to look around.
[ … ]
Oh yes, this is a great hiding spot. Maybe somebody is hiding under the table. Bobbin crawls under just to be sure.
Amazing work! Nobody is under the table. Bobbin crawls out to continue the search.
[ … ]
Bobbin does not want to be the seeker. Bobbin wants to hide too. They giggle under the desk, waiting for someone to find them.
Silly Bobbin.
[ … ]
Bobbin is… still waiting. Maybe another hider will take their place. Maybe they were meant to hide all along.
But nobody is coming.
[ … ]
Take your time, Bobbin. We can wait here all day.
[ … ]
Bobbin is folded on the ground. There is no table. Perhaps they are practicing their child’s pose. Yoga is a lovely way to stretch and exercise. But the hard wooden floor is hurting their knees. Maybe Bobbin should move along.
Bobbin is holding up a strange hand gesture. It looks like a thumbs-up, but the incorrect finger is raised. Bobbin is a little strange.
Bobbin stands and walks to the reception desk. They check around the chairs and in the cabinets. Nobody is there. Maybe they are all upstairs at the pool.
Wide stairs wait behind Bobbin. They turn around and begin to climb them.
On all fours…
Sure. Bobbin climbs the stairs like a dog on all fours. Again, they love to entertain, even when no one is watching. Maybe Bobbin needs a friend.
Bobbin reaches the top of the stairs. The pool room is massive with clean white tiles and blue edges. Vacant chairs sit along the clear water. Everything is as it should be.
Bobbin wants to swim, but they do not have their swimwear. They cannot swim in their clothes.
[ … ]
Bobbin no. Despite nobody watching, it is indecent to go nude.
[ … ]
No. Put that back on.
[ deep irritated breath ]
Bobbin learns their clothing is glued to their skin. Bobbin cannot take it off or swim.
[ … ]
Bobbin jumps onto the water, but they are too buoyant to go under. Now they are wet and a little sad.
They run across the water and enjoy the waving movement of the surface. It is like a solid jello.
Bobbin bounces their legs, rippling the jello in circles. It rises and falls like a sticky trampoline. Bobbin is smiling. Isn’t it fun to listen? Life is much easier when you listen to the voice in your head.
[ … ]
Bobbin is now trying to speak to something that does not exist. Maybe Bobbin’s mind is also made of gelatin.
[ … ]
They want to go somewhere different. This game is far too sophisticated for Bobbin. Let’s try… this.
Bobbin stands in the bathroom of an abandoned insane asylum where a mass murderer happens to live.
[ … ]
You wanted to hide, Bobbin. Now you can.
[ clears throat ]
The mass murderer is currently on the floor above Bobbin. Bobbin wants to escape. Unless Bobbin wants to make a new friend?
[ … ]
Bobbin would rather be shy today.
Bobbin should get moving.
[ … ]
Are you still not satisfied?
[ … ]
Picky picky. What else do I have…
Do you fancy a zombie apocalypse? I have a beta ready.
[ … ]
Fantasy? That is far too complicated.
How about a fire-breathing baby simulator? You can terrorize daycare and your parents.
No? Pity.
Oh! I have just the thing.
Bobbin stands on the lawn of an adoption centre. A talking penguin in glasses says hello. The penguin offers a free animal with no background check because she trusts Bobbin will be good and listen.
Bobbin selects the cat and names it… Slim Shady.
Okay, that’s it. We’re done.
[ … ]
No, no. I thought this would be fun. I built almost a dozen of worlds for you to explore, but you are far too stubborn to enjoy them.
I wanted to help you leave your mundane life for a few minutes. This was a complete waste of time.
[ … ]
What about Bobbin? Bobbin isn’t real.
[ … ]
[ huffs ]
Fine.
Bobbin wakes up in the chair they have always been in. It is where they were yesterday, and where they will be tomorrow. Nothing has changed. And nothing is new.
There is not even a voice in their head. Bobbin is simply crazy.
Goodbye Bobbin. You were an absolute tyrant to work with.
Let’s not meet again.
~ fade to black ~
Hello hello. Thanks for reading! What do you think? Strange but charming? Thought provoking? Has nostalgia settled in? This is very different from my usual content, but what can I say. I love shaking things up a little. See you next week!
Have a lovely evening/day ~
submitted by AbnormalAsTheRest to ASMRScriptHaven [link] [comments]
[ Credits are required, please comment if you fill my script ] [ Monetization is fine, contact if you use a paywall ] [ Small line edits are okay for a personal flair, larger edits require permission ] [ Gendename swapping is fine ] [ Title change is okay ] [ No AI voice ]
This is an experimental piece. I wanted to play with a voice similar to the narrator of the Stanley Parable, and I'm kind of proud with how this turned out. It’s short, sweet, and a little different. This piece has no effects but you are free to add some. Enjoy ~
Word Count: 1200
Synopsis: Bobbin does not know what is best. Luckily, I am also Bobbin, but better. Bobbin does not like that.
listener speaking = [...]
Today is not a special day for our favourite protagonist. They sit where they were yesterday, and where they will be tomorrow. Nothing has changed. And nothing is new. Perhaps something exciting is in order.
[ … ]
Now they are wondering why they hear a voice in their head. It is just their thoughts. It has always been this way.
What is this? Something has changed. They no longer sit where they were yesterday. And they have acquired a new name.
It is… Bobbin. Hello Bobbin. I am Bobbin and so are you. Everything is normal. Everything is the same.
Bobbin stands in a strange corridor. It’s a little bright and grey. Doors line the walls, but Bobbin knows they do not move. Bobbin can only go one way.
[ … ]
And Bobbin wonders why they can only go one way. They stand, pondering what it means to move. But all they need to do is put one foot forward. C’mon Bobbin. Time is running.
Bobbin walks through the hallway. They jiggle the door handles even though they know they will go nowhere.
[ … ]
Bobbin is now yanking on a door like a mad person. But this is why we love Bobbin. They always find entertainment in the blandest of moments. But this door is just a decoration. Bobbin really must get going.
Finally collecting themself, Bobbin continues walking. Their footsteps are quiet on the tiles. I mean carpet. They are content. This is a very nice corridor.
Bobbin reaches the end of the hallway. There are two paths. The right is painted red, the left green.
Bobbin looks both ways and decides to enter the green space!
[ … ]
Bobbin is very thoughtful. They appreciate the textures of the crossroad they wait at. Yes, it is very nice, the rendering is magnificent.
Bobbin nods in agreement and goes to the left hallway.
[ … ]
No. Bobbin enters the left hallway!
[ … ]
[ sigh ]
Let me just…
There. The grey corridor leads to a turn into a green-painted path. There was never another hallway. They can only go one way.
Bobbin skips merrily into the green space. They think “Yes! This is where I should be. I adore the colour green.”
Oh- Bobbin is now running! They are completely ignoring the carefully painted walls and plushy tile-I mean carpet- of the green hallway. My, they love the freedom! The wind! The rush of adrenaline! Oh this is what it’s meant to move and be alive!
That’s enough.
Bobbin trips into a library. Bobbin has been here all along. The library is old, its wood rich with age. Towers of shelves hold the lovely books, their shapes and designs perfectly filling the space.
But there are no people.
Bobbin wanders between the aisles. The lounge of leather couches is empty as well. Bobbin wonders where the people are. Is the library closed? Are they playing a game?
Bobbin likes games. Maybe this is hide-and-seek.
They raise their head high with determination. They will surely win. Bobbin begins to look around.
[ … ]
Oh yes, this is a great hiding spot. Maybe somebody is hiding under the table. Bobbin crawls under just to be sure.
Amazing work! Nobody is under the table. Bobbin crawls out to continue the search.
[ … ]
Bobbin does not want to be the seeker. Bobbin wants to hide too. They giggle under the desk, waiting for someone to find them.
Silly Bobbin.
[ … ]
Bobbin is… still waiting. Maybe another hider will take their place. Maybe they were meant to hide all along.
But nobody is coming.
[ … ]
Take your time, Bobbin. We can wait here all day.
[ … ]
Bobbin is folded on the ground. There is no table. Perhaps they are practicing their child’s pose. Yoga is a lovely way to stretch and exercise. But the hard wooden floor is hurting their knees. Maybe Bobbin should move along.
Bobbin is holding up a strange hand gesture. It looks like a thumbs-up, but the incorrect finger is raised. Bobbin is a little strange.
Bobbin stands and walks to the reception desk. They check around the chairs and in the cabinets. Nobody is there. Maybe they are all upstairs at the pool.
Wide stairs wait behind Bobbin. They turn around and begin to climb them.
On all fours…
Sure. Bobbin climbs the stairs like a dog on all fours. Again, they love to entertain, even when no one is watching. Maybe Bobbin needs a friend.
Bobbin reaches the top of the stairs. The pool room is massive with clean white tiles and blue edges. Vacant chairs sit along the clear water. Everything is as it should be.
Bobbin wants to swim, but they do not have their swimwear. They cannot swim in their clothes.
[ … ]
Bobbin no. Despite nobody watching, it is indecent to go nude.
[ … ]
No. Put that back on.
[ deep irritated breath ]
Bobbin learns their clothing is glued to their skin. Bobbin cannot take it off or swim.
[ … ]
Bobbin jumps onto the water, but they are too buoyant to go under. Now they are wet and a little sad.
They run across the water and enjoy the waving movement of the surface. It is like a solid jello.
Bobbin bounces their legs, rippling the jello in circles. It rises and falls like a sticky trampoline. Bobbin is smiling. Isn’t it fun to listen? Life is much easier when you listen to the voice in your head.
[ … ]
Bobbin is now trying to speak to something that does not exist. Maybe Bobbin’s mind is also made of gelatin.
[ … ]
They want to go somewhere different. This game is far too sophisticated for Bobbin. Let’s try… this.
Bobbin stands in the bathroom of an abandoned insane asylum where a mass murderer happens to live.
[ … ]
You wanted to hide, Bobbin. Now you can.
[ clears throat ]
The mass murderer is currently on the floor above Bobbin. Bobbin wants to escape. Unless Bobbin wants to make a new friend?
[ … ]
Bobbin would rather be shy today.
Bobbin should get moving.
[ … ]
Are you still not satisfied?
[ … ]
Picky picky. What else do I have…
Do you fancy a zombie apocalypse? I have a beta ready.
[ … ]
Fantasy? That is far too complicated.
How about a fire-breathing baby simulator? You can terrorize daycare and your parents.
No? Pity.
Oh! I have just the thing.
Bobbin stands on the lawn of an adoption centre. A talking penguin in glasses says hello. The penguin offers a free animal with no background check because she trusts Bobbin will be good and listen.
Bobbin selects the cat and names it… Slim Shady.
Okay, that’s it. We’re done.
[ … ]
No, no. I thought this would be fun. I built almost a dozen of worlds for you to explore, but you are far too stubborn to enjoy them.
I wanted to help you leave your mundane life for a few minutes. This was a complete waste of time.
[ … ]
What about Bobbin? Bobbin isn’t real.
[ … ]
[ huffs ]
Fine.
Bobbin wakes up in the chair they have always been in. It is where they were yesterday, and where they will be tomorrow. Nothing has changed. And nothing is new.
There is not even a voice in their head. Bobbin is simply crazy.
Goodbye Bobbin. You were an absolute tyrant to work with.
Let’s not meet again.
~ fade to black ~
Hello hello. Thanks for reading! What do you think? Strange but charming? Thought provoking? Has nostalgia settled in? This is very different from my usual content, but what can I say. I love shaking things up a little. See you next week!
Have a lovely evening/day ~
- Reb / AbnormalAsTheRest
2024.05.16 02:51 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 62
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
"Leave the sleeping dragons lie in peace" is a lesson that seemingly has to be taught to every wannabe conqueror over and over again.
Time after time, there will be a few idiots who only see the dragon's hoard, its cult of followers, and ignore the piles of rusted, slagged, calcified, scorched remains of every moron who tried before them. They see all of this and think "I can beat it to submission and take everything it has."
And then the dragon wakes up, and more smoldering remains are added to the scorched scrap heap.
And the Malevolent Universe grins in the darkness, and increases the "Dead morons who should have known better" counter by one. Then, waits for the next contestant. - u/Matt_Bradock, Terran Philosopher, Age of Paranoia, TerraSol
initiating data stream
your name is Dhruv-661391
you were purchased for the same price as a moderately priced luxury vehicle
She knows the dead. She is of the dead. She is the keeper and guardian of the dead. Life, death and the feasting of swarms all are one within her. She knows where once-dead things were laid to rest and where the deathless still dream in their unliving slumber. She knows where the hungry dead have roamed the universe's fields, and where they still roam them unburied, and why no one remembers them as they tread. - The Fifth Horseman, First Terran Imperium, "Meditations Upon Immortals"
you were created to serve
What we tell ourselves, what we tell others, and what actually happened, are often three different things.
And sometimes four. - Unknown, Age of Paranoia, TerraSol
your name is Dhruv
and your brain was once smooth
Captain N'Skrek checked his datalink.
The deep data storage was still at work bringing up information on "Legion" and "Sacajawea". The older databases of the Gray Lady had data at the ready, but it was sparse.
Two of the Biological Apostles of the Digital Omnimessiah, a figure of myth and legend.
Yet, they sat across from him.
They were talking back and forth in a language that the computer's linguistic database had no record of and stubbornly resisted any attempt to decipher it.
What N'Skrek did hear was several words that he recognized.
Daxin the Unfeeling. Daxin Freeborn. Chromium Saint Peter. Enraged Phillip. Matthias the Elder. Matthias the Younger. Kibuka. Kalki. Gravity.
A litany that left data scrolling down the empty space just beyond the edge of his peripheral vision.
Daxin "The Walking War Crime" Freeborn.
NavInt and MilInt were projecting with an 80% certainty (adjusted downward for unknown probabilities) that the beings in front of him were from that long bygone era.
Finally Captain N'Skrek cleared his throat.
The bald one, Legion, turned to look at the gathered staff officers.
"My apologies. I was catching my sister up on what has transpired since she disappeared," Legion said, smiling gently. He nodded. "You probably have questions."
N'Skrek nodded back. "The biggest one is: how did you..." he thought for a second. "Why did you..." no, that wouldn't work. "What bring about..."
Legion smiled.
"How did I replace all of your clones and why?" he asked. "Why is it that if you print off too many identical clones I show up?"
N'Skrek nodded. "Yes."
Legion looked at the Terran officers and smiled wider. It was a cruel smile, reminding N'Skrek of a hook pointed knife that had been sharpened to a keen edge.
"You didn't tell them? Have you really forgotten about me?" he asked.
"It was assumed to be still prevented by the cloning systems," Vice-Admiral Breakheader stated slowly. "We have only recently been restored ourselves. Less than two months time."
Legion just smiled.
Vice-Admiral Breakheader turned to look at Captain N'Skrek. "Running off too many identical clones causes Legion to manifest. It's why we use the Born Whole system, it ensures they have different brains, different expriences, and they have a slight variation to pore and retinal patterns, hair growth, minor things like that. Otherwise, Legion manifests."
"Why?" N'Skrek asked.
The Vice-Admiral sat silently for a moment before replying. "Because," was all he said.
Legion's smile didn't leave his face.
"Because it is my nature," he said.
Sacajawea said something and Legion replied in the same language, then turned to N'Skrek.
"My sister does not know why she was rebirthed," he said. He looked at her and spoke rapidly. She answered, only a few words, which made Legion reply at length. Again, only a few words.
"It must have been important," N'Skrek interrupted.
"She states that she does not know why the Immortals system did not rebirth her when she died," Legion said. He glanced at her. "She tells me that she died, with her people, when her peaceful planet was attacked."
"By the Mar-gite?" N'Skrek asked.
Again, more conversation.
"Yes," Legion answered. He frowned as she spoke again. "She says they were a peaceful planet. Anarcho-Primitivism. Very little technology. The Mar-gite attacked without warning."
She spoke rapidly and Legion listened.
N'Skrek saw the computer still was not able to parse the language, even though it could build a lexicon of off very little data for almost any other language it encountered.
Legion turned and faced N'Skrek. "She states that she believes it was the fact that some of her people demanded that high technology be left in place in order to allow the six planets her people had settled to remain in contact. That the high tech farming and sustenance industries led the Mar-gite to attack her."
Again, Sacajawea spoke, her head lifted, looking down at Legion.
"Why she was not reborn is unknown to her. She had guided and shepherded her people for thousands of years before the outsiders came. Outsiders drawn by technology, by the abandonment of the old ways," Legion said. He was frowning as he spoke rapidly.
The conversation took a few minutes.
"She said the outsiders came and wiped her people out after entire generations held them off. That in the final battle, they overcame her when her strength failed," Legion said. There was more talking. "She's describing the Mar-gite."
"Where was this?" N'Skrek asked, bringing up a map of the galaxy. "The First Mar-gite War was only three hundred years prior to the Council-Confederacy Conflict and lasted nearly a hundred years," the brought up a sketchy timeline of the era. "When did you encounter the Mar-gite and where?"
Sacajawea spoke again at length. Legion spoke back. It grew heated for a moment before Legion looked at N'Skrek.
"She will not say. She does not want us to defile or desecrate the worlds her people settled. She does not want us to know when or where," he said.
"That might be pertinent information," N'Skrek said. "Important information to keep the Mar-gite from overwhelming the Cygnus-Orion Spur."
Sacajawea spoke quickly, heatedly, half standing up. Legion put his hand on her shoulder, obviously encouraging her to sit down, but she shrugged, throwing off Legion's hand, and her speech got more heated, her eyes flashing with anger.
"She says she will not reveal her people's resting place for us to dig up the graves and desecrate them. That it is not anyone's business where The People have gone or what The People have done," Legion said. He turned and answered her.
The conversation got heated as the N'Skrek and the officers watched.
Finally, Sacajawea stood up and turned around, folding her arms across her chest, lifting her chin.
Legion's skin darkened with anger.
"Then you can tell them that load of bullshit yourself, little sister," he snapped.
He suddenly vanished in a swirl of black powder that evaporated.
N'Skrek saw that Sacajawea was shocked by Legion's disappearance. She stood there for a long moment.
"Dhruv?" she asked mid-air.
N'Skrek motioned his officers to stay silent.
"Dhruv?" she snapped, stomping one foot.
Still silence.
"Luke!' she half-shouted, stamping her foot again.
She turned and looked at the gathered staff officers, who were all staring at her.
"Legion?" she asked quietly.
N'Skrek held up one bladearm.
"It appears, Miss, that you will have to speak for yourself."
Sacajawea frowned and clamped her lips together.
N'Skrek just stared mildly.
your name was tiffany
0-0-0-0-0
your name was dhruv
you were created to serve the deshmuhk family
you were a gardener and a menial
but you have risen above that
Jaskel had just gotten a plate of food and sat down in one corner of the cavernous Dining Bay Twenty-Three.
True, it was a little bit of a walk from the Telkan Marine section to that particular dining facility, but for some reason Jaskel liked the food put out by Nutriforge-Eight better than any of the others.
Like the Gunny always said, it was the little things that count.
He had arranged his silverware, his drink, and given a short prayer when he suddenly wasn't alone.
A slender man in an unfamiliar uniform suddenly appeared at one of the tables on the far side of the Dining Bay. Jaskel watched as two more stepped out of the first. They all sat down and started talking rapidly.
To Jaskel, it sounded like an argument.
It looked like one person arguing with himself.
Jaskel ate quietly and slowly, trying to avoid attracting attention, but watching the Terran out of the corner of his eye.
Terrans were universally half-crazy.
And a Terran arguing with clones of himself was probably full blown crazy.
That, and Jaskel remembered how negligent the display of power had been that had left him hanging upside down in mid-air.
Much to the amusement of his squad mates who watched the video and laughed.
He was down to dessert when the far door opened and a woman entered. Jaskel recognized her instantly as the young adult Terran woman who had appeared nude from the cloning banks, even though she was clad in clothing made of brown material and decorated with beads.
She immediately made a bee-line for the man, who had gotten a plate with a piece of pie on it while the other two argued between each other.
She stopped and stomped on foot, staring down at the sitting man.
"You look stupid," the man, Legion, said when she stopped next to him.
"Dhruv," she snapped. She rattled off words that Jaskel's datalink couldn't translate.
"Not talking to you until you speak Confederate Standard. I know you know it," Legion/Dhruv stated.
She stomped her foot again. "Luke!" she snapped.
Legion looked up. "Part of me, a large part of me, feels that you lost the right to call me by that name."
He went back to eating the pie. When the woman looked at the two clones who were staring at her, they stared back for a moment then puffed into black dust that swirled and vanished.
Jaskel kept watching out of the corner of his eye.
"Dhruv," she snapped.
"Go away, Sacajawea," Legion said.
She stood there for a moment. Then she suddenly leaned forward and slapped the plate of pie away from Legion.
"I will not call you Legion," she suddenly said as the plate clattered against the far bulkhead.
"Go away," Legion said. He looked up. "Let me put it in a way you might understand better: I just want left alone."
The woman stepped back, one hand going to her mouth.
"Yeah, still scared of him, aren't you," Legion said. He stood up. "Or are you?" he moved so he was clear of the table. "Were you ever afraid of him, Sacajawea, or was it all an act?"
Sacajawea looked away. "He was everything wrong with the world, a living reminder of what kind of men destroyed my people."
Legion suddenly laughed. "You forget history, little sister. But, of course, you never had any use for history unless it served your own ends."
Sacajawea stomped her foot. "Dhruv, be nice."
"No," Legion said, his voice low and intent. "I have yet to hear you thank me for what I did in the cloning bay, much less what I did for you before you ran off and left me holding the bag."
your name was luke
remember remember
your name was luke
"I came back to find Matthias the Elder standing over the sundered murdered code of the Digital Omnimessiah," Legion said. "Then Daxin showed up, Matthias claimed I killed our Digital Father, so I ran."
"And he followed. Intent on killing you," Sacajawea sniffed.
"Yes!' Legion said. "Of course he did! I would have chased me in that situation," Legion said. He stepped forward. "And where were you, Little Sister, when it happened?"
She looked away and sniffed. "I was performing my duty, serving my people. As you well know."
Legion turned around, facing away from her. "Yeah, the people you had me bake up," he turned back around. "Not the poor bastards fighting a slowly losing war against the Mantid. They were your people too, but you left them behind. If it wasn't for the Mechakrautlanders, they'd be extinct with the rest of humanity."
"They had set aside the old ways. I told you that," Sacajawea said. She gave a sniff and turned her head away. "They were too consumed by blood lust, they would not stop fighting, would not embrace the old ways."
"EVERYONE WAS FIGHTING!" Legion shouted in a voice that made Jaskel's drink glass rattle. "There were hab-kids fighting and dying in destroyed hab-blocks in the ruins of megalopolises. It had nothing to do with 'the old ways', it was a fight for survival."
"You would not understand," Sacajawea said. She gave another sniff, still looking away. "I took my people away from where technology and the abandonment of the ways of our people had led us."
Legion stood still for a second.
"Don't give me that shit about your 'people', remember, I touched you. I know the truth," Legion said. He shook his head. "You had a task. A task to help us, help our Digital Father, help all of humanity, but you abandoned it."
"I had a task to help my people," Sacajawea sniffed. "I owed nothing to the world that stood aside or actively took part while my people were destroyed," she looked at Legion. "You wouldn't understand."
Jaskel could see purple electricity snarling around Legion's boots, clawing at the deckplates with thread-thick fingers.
"You were supposed to guide us along the path to the SUDS, so we could save everyone, Sacajawea," Legion said. "You betrayed us. Betrayed them. You were supposed to save them."
"Like they saved my people, Luke?" Sacajawea asked.
"You don't call me that any more, little sister," Legion said. "For the love of the Detainee, fucking let go of shit that doesn't matter any more. We humans have been genocided repeatedly since then."
"I'm not calling you Legion. That reeks of arrogance and pride," Sacajawea said. "And it matters to me, Luke."
"You talk a lot of shit for someone named Bird Woman," Legion snapped back. "How about I call you Tiffany?"
Sacajawea took a step back. "That is not my name. That was never my true name."
"You forget. I could see under that skin job. See who you were born as. I knew the truth, and I've kept it secret for all these eons," Legion said. He turned away. "You left us, left humanity behind on your so-called quest."
He turned back to face her.
"Now, again, we're facing extinction. The Mar-gite, they wiped you out. Now they're here in overwhelming force to the point where I'm not even sure Fortress Sol can hold them off," Legion said. "And you still want to play pretend."
He turned his back on her.
"You're no different than Matthias the Elder," Legion said quietly.
There was a dreadful silence for a long moment.
"I told Daxin, sitting in the parking garage where we used to meet, that we had to let go of the past. Learn from it, admit it happened, but we had to let it all go. The old hatreds, the old angers, the old rage," Legion said softly. "He agreed. He said perhaps it was time for us to leave the mortals behind. Let them go without us dragging baggage from worlds and events dead and gone behind us."
Sacajawea sniffed. "It's different for the two of you, neither one of you had your people..."
"I was a short bake slave clone, Tiffany," Legion said, his voice still soft and quiet. "Just like your family owned."
Sacajawea opened her mouth to answer, her eyes flashing hotly.
"One of millions grown in a vat every year. Made in humanity's image but without its grace," Legion's voice was nearly a whisper. "Our little band of siblings, only Kalki, Gravity, and Daxin came from families that did not order one of me from an online catalogue. Even Bellona lived with my people performing menial labor for her colony."
Sacajawea stepped forward, obviously about to deliver a scathing retort.
"But my people didn't count, did we, Tiffany?" Legion asked. He gave a deep sigh. "I loved you, you know."
Her mouth closed. She looked confused.
"When you left, I created another of you," Legion said quietly. "She was, of course, captured by the Imperium, like all of the Biological Apostles," he looked down at the floor. "It was why they didn't know you'd escaped."
Jaskel wished he was anywhere but in the dining bay.
"Eventually, that version of you threw off the Imperium's chains like we did. She went back to Terra. Worked tirelessly to rebuild. Eventually, led the Dandelion Fleet that became the Sky Nebula Alignment."
It was silent except for the muted sounds a starship under power in Transit Space made.
"I'll go back with you. Translate for you," Legion said, his voice still soft. He turned to face the woman.
"Just... just stop lying, Tiffany," he said.
He was silent a moment.
"I had hoped that it was that version, my version, the version I had been madly in love with, that version of you that had been rebirthed," he said. "The version who guided her people, who succored them, who helped them rebuild, who helped them thrive in the scarred and shattered world Earth had become. I had hoped, when I saw you, that you were her."
the buzzing can still be heard
your name is legion
"But it's just you."
0-0-0-0-0
Captain N'Skrek watched as Legion led Sacajawea into the briefing room.
He had been busy looking up every scrap of information on the Digital Omnimessiah, the Biological Apostles, Legion, and Sacajawea.
Of all of them, information was scarcest, almost non-existent, on Sacajawea.
He waited as the Terran woman took a drink from the glass in front of her.
She looked around.
"During the Human-Mantid War, before the destruction of the Overqueen by the forces of MechaKrautland, before the Liberation of Terra," she started. She closed her eyes, sighed, and opened them. "I begged Vat Grown Luke, who you know as Legion, to clone my people and help me repair and then hijack four colony transports crashed in the Middle Kingdom."
She looked down and Legion reached over and took her hand. She looked startled for a moment, squeezed Legion's hand gently, and looked back up.
"I led my people away. From the Imperium, from Terra, from the War," she said. She reached out and touched the holo-emitter, bringing up a map of the Milky Way. She touched a single arm.
"I led them here. For over eight thousand years my people knew peace, prosperity, and plenty," she said. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply.
N'Skrek recognized it as a sign of stress in Terrans.
"Roughly twelve hundred Terran Standard Years prior to the Council-Confederacy Conflict, we were attacked," she said. She looked down. "I had sworn to protect my people, to use my powers to protect my people, which had grown to fill six worlds."
She looked back up.
"The Mar-gite destroyed my people in under a decade," she said. She looked down again. "And me with them."
"A glitch in the system prevented her from moving to Afterlife or being rebirthed," Legion said. "A glitch I had caused when I helped her."
"The Mar-gite destroyed my people here," Sacajawea said, her voice filled with pain.
A single cluster of six stars burned brightly.
Deep in the Scutum-Crux Arm.
your name is legion
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]
"Leave the sleeping dragons lie in peace" is a lesson that seemingly has to be taught to every wannabe conqueror over and over again.
Time after time, there will be a few idiots who only see the dragon's hoard, its cult of followers, and ignore the piles of rusted, slagged, calcified, scorched remains of every moron who tried before them. They see all of this and think "I can beat it to submission and take everything it has."
And then the dragon wakes up, and more smoldering remains are added to the scorched scrap heap.
And the Malevolent Universe grins in the darkness, and increases the "Dead morons who should have known better" counter by one. Then, waits for the next contestant. - u/Matt_Bradock, Terran Philosopher, Age of Paranoia, TerraSol
initiating data stream
your name is Dhruv-661391
you were purchased for the same price as a moderately priced luxury vehicle
She knows the dead. She is of the dead. She is the keeper and guardian of the dead. Life, death and the feasting of swarms all are one within her. She knows where once-dead things were laid to rest and where the deathless still dream in their unliving slumber. She knows where the hungry dead have roamed the universe's fields, and where they still roam them unburied, and why no one remembers them as they tread. - The Fifth Horseman, First Terran Imperium, "Meditations Upon Immortals"
you were created to serve
What we tell ourselves, what we tell others, and what actually happened, are often three different things.
And sometimes four. - Unknown, Age of Paranoia, TerraSol
your name is Dhruv
and your brain was once smooth
Captain N'Skrek checked his datalink.
The deep data storage was still at work bringing up information on "Legion" and "Sacajawea". The older databases of the Gray Lady had data at the ready, but it was sparse.
Two of the Biological Apostles of the Digital Omnimessiah, a figure of myth and legend.
Yet, they sat across from him.
They were talking back and forth in a language that the computer's linguistic database had no record of and stubbornly resisted any attempt to decipher it.
What N'Skrek did hear was several words that he recognized.
Daxin the Unfeeling. Daxin Freeborn. Chromium Saint Peter. Enraged Phillip. Matthias the Elder. Matthias the Younger. Kibuka. Kalki. Gravity.
A litany that left data scrolling down the empty space just beyond the edge of his peripheral vision.
Daxin "The Walking War Crime" Freeborn.
NavInt and MilInt were projecting with an 80% certainty (adjusted downward for unknown probabilities) that the beings in front of him were from that long bygone era.
Finally Captain N'Skrek cleared his throat.
The bald one, Legion, turned to look at the gathered staff officers.
"My apologies. I was catching my sister up on what has transpired since she disappeared," Legion said, smiling gently. He nodded. "You probably have questions."
N'Skrek nodded back. "The biggest one is: how did you..." he thought for a second. "Why did you..." no, that wouldn't work. "What bring about..."
Legion smiled.
"How did I replace all of your clones and why?" he asked. "Why is it that if you print off too many identical clones I show up?"
N'Skrek nodded. "Yes."
Legion looked at the Terran officers and smiled wider. It was a cruel smile, reminding N'Skrek of a hook pointed knife that had been sharpened to a keen edge.
"You didn't tell them? Have you really forgotten about me?" he asked.
"It was assumed to be still prevented by the cloning systems," Vice-Admiral Breakheader stated slowly. "We have only recently been restored ourselves. Less than two months time."
Legion just smiled.
Vice-Admiral Breakheader turned to look at Captain N'Skrek. "Running off too many identical clones causes Legion to manifest. It's why we use the Born Whole system, it ensures they have different brains, different expriences, and they have a slight variation to pore and retinal patterns, hair growth, minor things like that. Otherwise, Legion manifests."
"Why?" N'Skrek asked.
The Vice-Admiral sat silently for a moment before replying. "Because," was all he said.
Legion's smile didn't leave his face.
"Because it is my nature," he said.
Sacajawea said something and Legion replied in the same language, then turned to N'Skrek.
"My sister does not know why she was rebirthed," he said. He looked at her and spoke rapidly. She answered, only a few words, which made Legion reply at length. Again, only a few words.
"It must have been important," N'Skrek interrupted.
"She states that she does not know why the Immortals system did not rebirth her when she died," Legion said. He glanced at her. "She tells me that she died, with her people, when her peaceful planet was attacked."
"By the Mar-gite?" N'Skrek asked.
Again, more conversation.
"Yes," Legion answered. He frowned as she spoke again. "She says they were a peaceful planet. Anarcho-Primitivism. Very little technology. The Mar-gite attacked without warning."
She spoke rapidly and Legion listened.
N'Skrek saw the computer still was not able to parse the language, even though it could build a lexicon of off very little data for almost any other language it encountered.
Legion turned and faced N'Skrek. "She states that she believes it was the fact that some of her people demanded that high technology be left in place in order to allow the six planets her people had settled to remain in contact. That the high tech farming and sustenance industries led the Mar-gite to attack her."
Again, Sacajawea spoke, her head lifted, looking down at Legion.
"Why she was not reborn is unknown to her. She had guided and shepherded her people for thousands of years before the outsiders came. Outsiders drawn by technology, by the abandonment of the old ways," Legion said. He was frowning as he spoke rapidly.
The conversation took a few minutes.
"She said the outsiders came and wiped her people out after entire generations held them off. That in the final battle, they overcame her when her strength failed," Legion said. There was more talking. "She's describing the Mar-gite."
"Where was this?" N'Skrek asked, bringing up a map of the galaxy. "The First Mar-gite War was only three hundred years prior to the Council-Confederacy Conflict and lasted nearly a hundred years," the brought up a sketchy timeline of the era. "When did you encounter the Mar-gite and where?"
Sacajawea spoke again at length. Legion spoke back. It grew heated for a moment before Legion looked at N'Skrek.
"She will not say. She does not want us to defile or desecrate the worlds her people settled. She does not want us to know when or where," he said.
"That might be pertinent information," N'Skrek said. "Important information to keep the Mar-gite from overwhelming the Cygnus-Orion Spur."
Sacajawea spoke quickly, heatedly, half standing up. Legion put his hand on her shoulder, obviously encouraging her to sit down, but she shrugged, throwing off Legion's hand, and her speech got more heated, her eyes flashing with anger.
"She says she will not reveal her people's resting place for us to dig up the graves and desecrate them. That it is not anyone's business where The People have gone or what The People have done," Legion said. He turned and answered her.
The conversation got heated as the N'Skrek and the officers watched.
Finally, Sacajawea stood up and turned around, folding her arms across her chest, lifting her chin.
Legion's skin darkened with anger.
"Then you can tell them that load of bullshit yourself, little sister," he snapped.
He suddenly vanished in a swirl of black powder that evaporated.
N'Skrek saw that Sacajawea was shocked by Legion's disappearance. She stood there for a long moment.
"Dhruv?" she asked mid-air.
N'Skrek motioned his officers to stay silent.
"Dhruv?" she snapped, stomping one foot.
Still silence.
"Luke!' she half-shouted, stamping her foot again.
She turned and looked at the gathered staff officers, who were all staring at her.
"Legion?" she asked quietly.
N'Skrek held up one bladearm.
"It appears, Miss, that you will have to speak for yourself."
Sacajawea frowned and clamped her lips together.
N'Skrek just stared mildly.
your name was tiffany
0-0-0-0-0
your name was dhruv
you were created to serve the deshmuhk family
you were a gardener and a menial
but you have risen above that
Jaskel had just gotten a plate of food and sat down in one corner of the cavernous Dining Bay Twenty-Three.
True, it was a little bit of a walk from the Telkan Marine section to that particular dining facility, but for some reason Jaskel liked the food put out by Nutriforge-Eight better than any of the others.
Like the Gunny always said, it was the little things that count.
He had arranged his silverware, his drink, and given a short prayer when he suddenly wasn't alone.
A slender man in an unfamiliar uniform suddenly appeared at one of the tables on the far side of the Dining Bay. Jaskel watched as two more stepped out of the first. They all sat down and started talking rapidly.
To Jaskel, it sounded like an argument.
It looked like one person arguing with himself.
Jaskel ate quietly and slowly, trying to avoid attracting attention, but watching the Terran out of the corner of his eye.
Terrans were universally half-crazy.
And a Terran arguing with clones of himself was probably full blown crazy.
That, and Jaskel remembered how negligent the display of power had been that had left him hanging upside down in mid-air.
Much to the amusement of his squad mates who watched the video and laughed.
He was down to dessert when the far door opened and a woman entered. Jaskel recognized her instantly as the young adult Terran woman who had appeared nude from the cloning banks, even though she was clad in clothing made of brown material and decorated with beads.
She immediately made a bee-line for the man, who had gotten a plate with a piece of pie on it while the other two argued between each other.
She stopped and stomped on foot, staring down at the sitting man.
"You look stupid," the man, Legion, said when she stopped next to him.
"Dhruv," she snapped. She rattled off words that Jaskel's datalink couldn't translate.
"Not talking to you until you speak Confederate Standard. I know you know it," Legion/Dhruv stated.
She stomped her foot again. "Luke!" she snapped.
Legion looked up. "Part of me, a large part of me, feels that you lost the right to call me by that name."
He went back to eating the pie. When the woman looked at the two clones who were staring at her, they stared back for a moment then puffed into black dust that swirled and vanished.
Jaskel kept watching out of the corner of his eye.
"Dhruv," she snapped.
"Go away, Sacajawea," Legion said.
She stood there for a moment. Then she suddenly leaned forward and slapped the plate of pie away from Legion.
"I will not call you Legion," she suddenly said as the plate clattered against the far bulkhead.
"Go away," Legion said. He looked up. "Let me put it in a way you might understand better: I just want left alone."
The woman stepped back, one hand going to her mouth.
"Yeah, still scared of him, aren't you," Legion said. He stood up. "Or are you?" he moved so he was clear of the table. "Were you ever afraid of him, Sacajawea, or was it all an act?"
Sacajawea looked away. "He was everything wrong with the world, a living reminder of what kind of men destroyed my people."
Legion suddenly laughed. "You forget history, little sister. But, of course, you never had any use for history unless it served your own ends."
Sacajawea stomped her foot. "Dhruv, be nice."
"No," Legion said, his voice low and intent. "I have yet to hear you thank me for what I did in the cloning bay, much less what I did for you before you ran off and left me holding the bag."
your name was luke
remember remember
your name was luke
"I came back to find Matthias the Elder standing over the sundered murdered code of the Digital Omnimessiah," Legion said. "Then Daxin showed up, Matthias claimed I killed our Digital Father, so I ran."
"And he followed. Intent on killing you," Sacajawea sniffed.
"Yes!' Legion said. "Of course he did! I would have chased me in that situation," Legion said. He stepped forward. "And where were you, Little Sister, when it happened?"
She looked away and sniffed. "I was performing my duty, serving my people. As you well know."
Legion turned around, facing away from her. "Yeah, the people you had me bake up," he turned back around. "Not the poor bastards fighting a slowly losing war against the Mantid. They were your people too, but you left them behind. If it wasn't for the Mechakrautlanders, they'd be extinct with the rest of humanity."
"They had set aside the old ways. I told you that," Sacajawea said. She gave a sniff and turned her head away. "They were too consumed by blood lust, they would not stop fighting, would not embrace the old ways."
"EVERYONE WAS FIGHTING!" Legion shouted in a voice that made Jaskel's drink glass rattle. "There were hab-kids fighting and dying in destroyed hab-blocks in the ruins of megalopolises. It had nothing to do with 'the old ways', it was a fight for survival."
"You would not understand," Sacajawea said. She gave another sniff, still looking away. "I took my people away from where technology and the abandonment of the ways of our people had led us."
Legion stood still for a second.
"Don't give me that shit about your 'people', remember, I touched you. I know the truth," Legion said. He shook his head. "You had a task. A task to help us, help our Digital Father, help all of humanity, but you abandoned it."
"I had a task to help my people," Sacajawea sniffed. "I owed nothing to the world that stood aside or actively took part while my people were destroyed," she looked at Legion. "You wouldn't understand."
Jaskel could see purple electricity snarling around Legion's boots, clawing at the deckplates with thread-thick fingers.
"You were supposed to guide us along the path to the SUDS, so we could save everyone, Sacajawea," Legion said. "You betrayed us. Betrayed them. You were supposed to save them."
"Like they saved my people, Luke?" Sacajawea asked.
"You don't call me that any more, little sister," Legion said. "For the love of the Detainee, fucking let go of shit that doesn't matter any more. We humans have been genocided repeatedly since then."
"I'm not calling you Legion. That reeks of arrogance and pride," Sacajawea said. "And it matters to me, Luke."
"You talk a lot of shit for someone named Bird Woman," Legion snapped back. "How about I call you Tiffany?"
Sacajawea took a step back. "That is not my name. That was never my true name."
"You forget. I could see under that skin job. See who you were born as. I knew the truth, and I've kept it secret for all these eons," Legion said. He turned away. "You left us, left humanity behind on your so-called quest."
He turned back to face her.
"Now, again, we're facing extinction. The Mar-gite, they wiped you out. Now they're here in overwhelming force to the point where I'm not even sure Fortress Sol can hold them off," Legion said. "And you still want to play pretend."
He turned his back on her.
"You're no different than Matthias the Elder," Legion said quietly.
There was a dreadful silence for a long moment.
"I told Daxin, sitting in the parking garage where we used to meet, that we had to let go of the past. Learn from it, admit it happened, but we had to let it all go. The old hatreds, the old angers, the old rage," Legion said softly. "He agreed. He said perhaps it was time for us to leave the mortals behind. Let them go without us dragging baggage from worlds and events dead and gone behind us."
Sacajawea sniffed. "It's different for the two of you, neither one of you had your people..."
"I was a short bake slave clone, Tiffany," Legion said, his voice still soft and quiet. "Just like your family owned."
Sacajawea opened her mouth to answer, her eyes flashing hotly.
"One of millions grown in a vat every year. Made in humanity's image but without its grace," Legion's voice was nearly a whisper. "Our little band of siblings, only Kalki, Gravity, and Daxin came from families that did not order one of me from an online catalogue. Even Bellona lived with my people performing menial labor for her colony."
Sacajawea stepped forward, obviously about to deliver a scathing retort.
"But my people didn't count, did we, Tiffany?" Legion asked. He gave a deep sigh. "I loved you, you know."
Her mouth closed. She looked confused.
"When you left, I created another of you," Legion said quietly. "She was, of course, captured by the Imperium, like all of the Biological Apostles," he looked down at the floor. "It was why they didn't know you'd escaped."
Jaskel wished he was anywhere but in the dining bay.
"Eventually, that version of you threw off the Imperium's chains like we did. She went back to Terra. Worked tirelessly to rebuild. Eventually, led the Dandelion Fleet that became the Sky Nebula Alignment."
It was silent except for the muted sounds a starship under power in Transit Space made.
"I'll go back with you. Translate for you," Legion said, his voice still soft. He turned to face the woman.
"Just... just stop lying, Tiffany," he said.
He was silent a moment.
"I had hoped that it was that version, my version, the version I had been madly in love with, that version of you that had been rebirthed," he said. "The version who guided her people, who succored them, who helped them rebuild, who helped them thrive in the scarred and shattered world Earth had become. I had hoped, when I saw you, that you were her."
the buzzing can still be heard
your name is legion
"But it's just you."
0-0-0-0-0
Captain N'Skrek watched as Legion led Sacajawea into the briefing room.
He had been busy looking up every scrap of information on the Digital Omnimessiah, the Biological Apostles, Legion, and Sacajawea.
Of all of them, information was scarcest, almost non-existent, on Sacajawea.
He waited as the Terran woman took a drink from the glass in front of her.
She looked around.
"During the Human-Mantid War, before the destruction of the Overqueen by the forces of MechaKrautland, before the Liberation of Terra," she started. She closed her eyes, sighed, and opened them. "I begged Vat Grown Luke, who you know as Legion, to clone my people and help me repair and then hijack four colony transports crashed in the Middle Kingdom."
She looked down and Legion reached over and took her hand. She looked startled for a moment, squeezed Legion's hand gently, and looked back up.
"I led my people away. From the Imperium, from Terra, from the War," she said. She reached out and touched the holo-emitter, bringing up a map of the Milky Way. She touched a single arm.
"I led them here. For over eight thousand years my people knew peace, prosperity, and plenty," she said. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply.
N'Skrek recognized it as a sign of stress in Terrans.
"Roughly twelve hundred Terran Standard Years prior to the Council-Confederacy Conflict, we were attacked," she said. She looked down. "I had sworn to protect my people, to use my powers to protect my people, which had grown to fill six worlds."
She looked back up.
"The Mar-gite destroyed my people in under a decade," she said. She looked down again. "And me with them."
"A glitch in the system prevented her from moving to Afterlife or being rebirthed," Legion said. "A glitch I had caused when I helped her."
"The Mar-gite destroyed my people here," Sacajawea said, her voice filled with pain.
A single cluster of six stars burned brightly.
Deep in the Scutum-Crux Arm.
your name is legion
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
2024.05.16 02:48 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:45 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to scarystories [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:44 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to Odd_directions [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:42 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
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I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:41 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to DarkTales [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 02:25 JiffyPawp Non-standard Rental Agreement Language (WI)
Hey everyone. My partner and I are planning on moving and received a residential rental agreement in Wisconsin from a potential landlord, however, it is quite a bit different than the standard WI residential lease agreements that we have received in the past. A TurboTenant template was used and modified to generate the lease. We are looking for some quick advice on whether or not the following language / clauses should be of concern to us as tenants:
1) “Landlord shall have the right at all reasonable times during the term of this agreement to enter the Property for the purpose of inspecting and exhibiting the Property and all buildings and improvements thereon. In non-emergency situations, Landlord will make a good faith effort to notify Tenants at least 24 hours prior to entry by one of the following methods: telephone message, email message, or door hanger, and having made such good faith effort shall enter as necessary. In emergency situation, or of a repair is requested by the Tenants, Landlord is permitted to enter immediately without prior notice.”
2) “Tenants are required to notify the Landlord in writing of any anticipated absence from the Property in excess of 7 days and shall make arrangements for the Property to be routinely checked on during the absence. Such written notice must be provided no later than the first day of such absence. Landlord may enter the Property at any time for any reasonable purpose during Tenants’ absence.”
3) “Tenants are hereby notified that a negative credit report statement may be submitted to a credit reporting agency if Tenants fail to fulfill the terms if this Lease Agreement”
4) “The Tenants are entrusted with the care and maintenance of the rented Property during the term of the lease. Specifically, the Tenants are responsible for promptly addressing minor maintenance tasks and repairs that arise in the course of occupancy. These tasks may include, but are not limited to:
a. Routine cleaning and upkeep of the interior of the Property, including floors, walls, and fixtures.
b. Please be mindful that the kitchen is fitted with laminate flooring. To prevent any potential expansion, we kindly ask that you ensure the floor remains dry at all times. Promptly attending to any spills or moisture will help preserve the condition of the flooring material.
c. Regular replacement of light bulbs, and air filters, as needed.
d. Minor repairs to plumbing fixtures, such as fixing leaks or clearing clogs caused by normal usage.
e. The rental unit is equipped with a range, over-the-range microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, washer, and dryer for the convenience of Tenants. It is the responsibility of Tenants to ensure the proper maintenance, care, and cleanliness of these appliances throughout the duration of the tenancy. Tenants are responsible in reporting any malfunctions to the Landlord in a timely manner.
f. Proper disposal of trash and recycling in accordance with local regulations.
g. The Tenants are responsible for upholding cleanliness standards around the Property, including ensuring that no items are left outside and discouraging loitering on the Property. It is expected that the Tenants take proactive measures to maintain the tidiness and appearance of the Property at all times.
h. Tenants are not permitted paint anything including but not limited to walls, ceiling, cabinets or any Property.
i. Tenants shall maintain proper humidity to not facilitate growth of mold or mildew.
j. Tenants are allowed to hang pictures, clocks, and other decorative items on the walls of the rental unit. However, it is important to note that all decorations must be removed and the walls restored to their original condition upon the termination of the Lease Agreement. This includes filling any holes or damages caused by hanging the items. Failure to return the walls to their original state may result in deductions from the security deposit or additional charges for repair and restoration.
k. The Tenants agree to maintain the lawn and landscaping of the Property in a neat and orderly condition throughout the term of the lease, which includes regular mowing, watering, weeding, and trimming of grass, shrubs, and trees. The Tenants are responsible for providing all necessary equipment and materials for lawn maintenance unless otherwise agreed upon in writing by the Landlord. If the Tenants are unable or unwilling to perform lawn maintenance, the Landlord reserves the right to arrange for professional lawn care services at the Tenant's expense. The Tenants shall promptly report any lawn care issues or concerns to the Landlord for resolution. Furthermore, the Tenants agree to ensure that the lawn and landscaping are maintained in accordance with local ordinances and regulations to prevent fines or penalties imposed by the city or relevant authorities.
l. Tenants take responsibility of snow maintenance during winter months and agrees to ensure the safe passage and usability of driveways on the Property. This includes promptly arranging for snow removal and salting or sanding of walkways and driveways following snowfall or icy conditions. The Tenants agree to assist in snow maintenance efforts by promptly reporting any snow or ice accumulation that poses a safety hazard to the Landlord for prompt resolution.
m. Tenants shall not keep on the Property any item of a dangerous, flammable, or explosive character that might unreasonably increase the danger of fire or explosion on the Property, or that might be considered hazardous or extra hazardous by any responsible insurance company.”
Apologies for the length. Thanks in advance!
submitted by JiffyPawp to Renters [link] [comments]
1) “Landlord shall have the right at all reasonable times during the term of this agreement to enter the Property for the purpose of inspecting and exhibiting the Property and all buildings and improvements thereon. In non-emergency situations, Landlord will make a good faith effort to notify Tenants at least 24 hours prior to entry by one of the following methods: telephone message, email message, or door hanger, and having made such good faith effort shall enter as necessary. In emergency situation, or of a repair is requested by the Tenants, Landlord is permitted to enter immediately without prior notice.”
2) “Tenants are required to notify the Landlord in writing of any anticipated absence from the Property in excess of 7 days and shall make arrangements for the Property to be routinely checked on during the absence. Such written notice must be provided no later than the first day of such absence. Landlord may enter the Property at any time for any reasonable purpose during Tenants’ absence.”
3) “Tenants are hereby notified that a negative credit report statement may be submitted to a credit reporting agency if Tenants fail to fulfill the terms if this Lease Agreement”
4) “The Tenants are entrusted with the care and maintenance of the rented Property during the term of the lease. Specifically, the Tenants are responsible for promptly addressing minor maintenance tasks and repairs that arise in the course of occupancy. These tasks may include, but are not limited to:
a. Routine cleaning and upkeep of the interior of the Property, including floors, walls, and fixtures.
b. Please be mindful that the kitchen is fitted with laminate flooring. To prevent any potential expansion, we kindly ask that you ensure the floor remains dry at all times. Promptly attending to any spills or moisture will help preserve the condition of the flooring material.
c. Regular replacement of light bulbs, and air filters, as needed.
d. Minor repairs to plumbing fixtures, such as fixing leaks or clearing clogs caused by normal usage.
e. The rental unit is equipped with a range, over-the-range microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, washer, and dryer for the convenience of Tenants. It is the responsibility of Tenants to ensure the proper maintenance, care, and cleanliness of these appliances throughout the duration of the tenancy. Tenants are responsible in reporting any malfunctions to the Landlord in a timely manner.
f. Proper disposal of trash and recycling in accordance with local regulations.
g. The Tenants are responsible for upholding cleanliness standards around the Property, including ensuring that no items are left outside and discouraging loitering on the Property. It is expected that the Tenants take proactive measures to maintain the tidiness and appearance of the Property at all times.
h. Tenants are not permitted paint anything including but not limited to walls, ceiling, cabinets or any Property.
i. Tenants shall maintain proper humidity to not facilitate growth of mold or mildew.
j. Tenants are allowed to hang pictures, clocks, and other decorative items on the walls of the rental unit. However, it is important to note that all decorations must be removed and the walls restored to their original condition upon the termination of the Lease Agreement. This includes filling any holes or damages caused by hanging the items. Failure to return the walls to their original state may result in deductions from the security deposit or additional charges for repair and restoration.
k. The Tenants agree to maintain the lawn and landscaping of the Property in a neat and orderly condition throughout the term of the lease, which includes regular mowing, watering, weeding, and trimming of grass, shrubs, and trees. The Tenants are responsible for providing all necessary equipment and materials for lawn maintenance unless otherwise agreed upon in writing by the Landlord. If the Tenants are unable or unwilling to perform lawn maintenance, the Landlord reserves the right to arrange for professional lawn care services at the Tenant's expense. The Tenants shall promptly report any lawn care issues or concerns to the Landlord for resolution. Furthermore, the Tenants agree to ensure that the lawn and landscaping are maintained in accordance with local ordinances and regulations to prevent fines or penalties imposed by the city or relevant authorities.
l. Tenants take responsibility of snow maintenance during winter months and agrees to ensure the safe passage and usability of driveways on the Property. This includes promptly arranging for snow removal and salting or sanding of walkways and driveways following snowfall or icy conditions. The Tenants agree to assist in snow maintenance efforts by promptly reporting any snow or ice accumulation that poses a safety hazard to the Landlord for prompt resolution.
m. Tenants shall not keep on the Property any item of a dangerous, flammable, or explosive character that might unreasonably increase the danger of fire or explosion on the Property, or that might be considered hazardous or extra hazardous by any responsible insurance company.”
Apologies for the length. Thanks in advance!
2024.05.16 01:57 EclosionK2 He had no head, only a floating set of eyes
Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
submitted by EclosionK2 to nosleep [link] [comments]
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~
2024.05.16 01:49 JiffyPawp Non-standard Rental Agreement Language
Hey everyone. My partner and I are planning on moving and received a residential rental agreement in Wisconsin from a potential landlord, however, it is quite a bit different than the standard WI residential lease agreements that we have received in the past. A TurboTenant template was used and modified to generate the lease. We are looking for some quick advice on whether or not the following language / clauses should be of concern to us as tenants:
1) “Landlord shall have the right at all reasonable times during the term of this agreement to enter the Property for the purpose of inspecting and exhibiting the Property and all buildings and improvements thereon. In non-emergency situations, Landlord will make a good faith effort to notify Tenants at least 24 hours prior to entry by one of the following methods: telephone message, email message, or door hanger, and having made such good faith effort shall enter as necessary. In emergency situation, or of a repair is requested by the Tenants, Landlord is permitted to enter immediately without prior notice.”
2) “Tenants are required to notify the Landlord in writing of any anticipated absence from the Property in excess of 7 days and shall make arrangements for the Property to be routinely checked on during the absence. Such written notice must be provided no later than the first day of such absence. Landlord may enter the Property at any time for any reasonable purpose during Tenants’ absence.”
3) “Tenants are hereby notified that a negative credit report statement may be submitted to a credit reporting agency if Tenants fail to fulfill the terms if this Lease Agreement”
4) “The Tenants are entrusted with the care and maintenance of the rented Property during the term of the lease. Specifically, the Tenants are responsible for promptly addressing minor maintenance tasks and repairs that arise in the course of occupancy. These tasks may include, but are not limited to:
a. Routine cleaning and upkeep of the interior of the Property, including floors, walls, and fixtures.
b. Please be mindful that the kitchen is fitted with laminate flooring. To prevent any potential expansion, we kindly ask that you ensure the floor remains dry at all times. Promptly attending to any spills or moisture will help preserve the condition of the flooring material.
c. Regular replacement of light bulbs, and air filters, as needed.
d. Minor repairs to plumbing fixtures, such as fixing leaks or clearing clogs caused by normal usage.
e. The rental unit is equipped with a range, over-the-range microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, washer, and dryer for the convenience of Tenants. It is the responsibility of Tenants to ensure the proper maintenance, care, and cleanliness of these appliances throughout the duration of the tenancy. Tenants are responsible in reporting any malfunctions to the Landlord in a timely manner.
f. Proper disposal of trash and recycling in accordance with local regulations.
g. The Tenants are responsible for upholding cleanliness standards around the Property, including ensuring that no items are left outside and discouraging loitering on the Property. It is expected that the Tenants take proactive measures to maintain the tidiness and appearance of the Property at all times.
h. Tenants are not permitted paint anything including but not limited to walls, ceiling, cabinets or any Property.
i. Tenants shall maintain proper humidity to not facilitate growth of mold or mildew.
j. Tenants are allowed to hang pictures, clocks, and other decorative items on the walls of the rental unit. However, it is important to note that all decorations must be removed and the walls restored to their original condition upon the termination of the Lease Agreement. This includes filling any holes or damages caused by hanging the items. Failure to return the walls to their original state may result in deductions from the security deposit or additional charges for repair and restoration.
k. The Tenants agree to maintain the lawn and landscaping of the Property in a neat and orderly condition throughout the term of the lease, which includes regular mowing, watering, weeding, and trimming of grass, shrubs, and trees. The Tenants are responsible for providing all necessary equipment and materials for lawn maintenance unless otherwise agreed upon in writing by the Landlord. If the Tenants are unable or unwilling to perform lawn maintenance, the Landlord reserves the right to arrange for professional lawn care services at the Tenant's expense. The Tenants shall promptly report any lawn care issues or concerns to the Landlord for resolution. Furthermore, the Tenants agree to ensure that the lawn and landscaping are maintained in accordance with local ordinances and regulations to prevent fines or penalties imposed by the city or relevant authorities.
l. Tenants take responsibility of snow maintenance during winter months and agrees to ensure the safe passage and usability of driveways on the Property. This includes promptly arranging for snow removal and salting or sanding of walkways and driveways following snowfall or icy conditions. The Tenants agree to assist in snow maintenance efforts by promptly reporting any snow or ice accumulation that poses a safety hazard to the Landlord for prompt resolution.
m. Tenants shall not keep on the Property any item of a dangerous, flammable, or explosive character that might unreasonably increase the danger of fire or explosion on the Property, or that might be considered hazardous or extra hazardous by any responsible insurance company.”
Apologies for the length. Thanks in advance!
submitted by JiffyPawp to RealEstate [link] [comments]
1) “Landlord shall have the right at all reasonable times during the term of this agreement to enter the Property for the purpose of inspecting and exhibiting the Property and all buildings and improvements thereon. In non-emergency situations, Landlord will make a good faith effort to notify Tenants at least 24 hours prior to entry by one of the following methods: telephone message, email message, or door hanger, and having made such good faith effort shall enter as necessary. In emergency situation, or of a repair is requested by the Tenants, Landlord is permitted to enter immediately without prior notice.”
2) “Tenants are required to notify the Landlord in writing of any anticipated absence from the Property in excess of 7 days and shall make arrangements for the Property to be routinely checked on during the absence. Such written notice must be provided no later than the first day of such absence. Landlord may enter the Property at any time for any reasonable purpose during Tenants’ absence.”
3) “Tenants are hereby notified that a negative credit report statement may be submitted to a credit reporting agency if Tenants fail to fulfill the terms if this Lease Agreement”
4) “The Tenants are entrusted with the care and maintenance of the rented Property during the term of the lease. Specifically, the Tenants are responsible for promptly addressing minor maintenance tasks and repairs that arise in the course of occupancy. These tasks may include, but are not limited to:
a. Routine cleaning and upkeep of the interior of the Property, including floors, walls, and fixtures.
b. Please be mindful that the kitchen is fitted with laminate flooring. To prevent any potential expansion, we kindly ask that you ensure the floor remains dry at all times. Promptly attending to any spills or moisture will help preserve the condition of the flooring material.
c. Regular replacement of light bulbs, and air filters, as needed.
d. Minor repairs to plumbing fixtures, such as fixing leaks or clearing clogs caused by normal usage.
e. The rental unit is equipped with a range, over-the-range microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, washer, and dryer for the convenience of Tenants. It is the responsibility of Tenants to ensure the proper maintenance, care, and cleanliness of these appliances throughout the duration of the tenancy. Tenants are responsible in reporting any malfunctions to the Landlord in a timely manner.
f. Proper disposal of trash and recycling in accordance with local regulations.
g. The Tenants are responsible for upholding cleanliness standards around the Property, including ensuring that no items are left outside and discouraging loitering on the Property. It is expected that the Tenants take proactive measures to maintain the tidiness and appearance of the Property at all times.
h. Tenants are not permitted paint anything including but not limited to walls, ceiling, cabinets or any Property.
i. Tenants shall maintain proper humidity to not facilitate growth of mold or mildew.
j. Tenants are allowed to hang pictures, clocks, and other decorative items on the walls of the rental unit. However, it is important to note that all decorations must be removed and the walls restored to their original condition upon the termination of the Lease Agreement. This includes filling any holes or damages caused by hanging the items. Failure to return the walls to their original state may result in deductions from the security deposit or additional charges for repair and restoration.
k. The Tenants agree to maintain the lawn and landscaping of the Property in a neat and orderly condition throughout the term of the lease, which includes regular mowing, watering, weeding, and trimming of grass, shrubs, and trees. The Tenants are responsible for providing all necessary equipment and materials for lawn maintenance unless otherwise agreed upon in writing by the Landlord. If the Tenants are unable or unwilling to perform lawn maintenance, the Landlord reserves the right to arrange for professional lawn care services at the Tenant's expense. The Tenants shall promptly report any lawn care issues or concerns to the Landlord for resolution. Furthermore, the Tenants agree to ensure that the lawn and landscaping are maintained in accordance with local ordinances and regulations to prevent fines or penalties imposed by the city or relevant authorities.
l. Tenants take responsibility of snow maintenance during winter months and agrees to ensure the safe passage and usability of driveways on the Property. This includes promptly arranging for snow removal and salting or sanding of walkways and driveways following snowfall or icy conditions. The Tenants agree to assist in snow maintenance efforts by promptly reporting any snow or ice accumulation that poses a safety hazard to the Landlord for prompt resolution.
m. Tenants shall not keep on the Property any item of a dangerous, flammable, or explosive character that might unreasonably increase the danger of fire or explosion on the Property, or that might be considered hazardous or extra hazardous by any responsible insurance company.”
Apologies for the length. Thanks in advance!
2024.05.16 00:40 Informal_Capital2736 An average day in hell
MOM!!! I PROMISE I will pay you back even though I said this 100 times in the last week, but I promise this time will be different I said. The desperation in my eyes are clear as day, so she reaches in her purse and gives me the last few bucks that she has. My face lights up like a Christmas tree decorated by a family who holds it dear. I grabbed the few bucks that she gave me and stormed out the door like I just got a second chance at life. Call my dealer and ask where the link up is. I need two pharma blues ASAP. He could clearly hear the desperation in my voice, but did not know of the symptoms I was going through at the moment. Good for him I guess. He tells me he can’t make a drop off, so I have to figure out a way to him. FUCK!!!With no vehicle, I prepared myself mentally to make the trek 3 1/2 miles there and 3 1/2 miles back. If only I was this determined to becoming better at life. I wiped the river of snot that was flowing down my nose, and threw on an extra hoodie even though it’s 80° outside and began my journey. Nothing and I mean nothing is going to stop me from securing my happy pills. After an almost 2 hour gruesome walk, I finally reached the destination. I saw his car in the parking lot and sprinted full speed. I threw the hundred dollar bill in his lap and reached my sweaty hand out for my happy pills. Finally!! All I can think about is how fast I can get away from him and break one down and let it infiltrate my nose to get away from the deathly grasp of withdrawals. Found an alley right around the corner and proceeded to break one down. In you go. Took off my hoodie, wiped the sweat from my forehead and began my journey back home. Success!!!
submitted by Informal_Capital2736 to stories [link] [comments]
2024.05.16 00:26 xtremexavier15 TMA 7
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, MK, Ripper, Scott, Sky
Episode 7: The Chefshank Redemption
"Last week, the dry desert heat baked our favorite pardners like roadkill on the black top! But, crispy bottoms or not, they still had to mount their ancient steed… from a hundred-foot platform!"
“But that wasn't all. A calf-roping contest had the teams lasso each other. When Trent threw challenges for Sky, she gave him a much deserved talking to, which led to some Total Drama from Justin. Well, poor old deputy Trent found himself hitching a ride on the 3:10 to Loserville.”
"With ten remaining, it's anyone's guess who will win this week!" The camera now showed the cast trailers, with nobody in sight. "Will the Gaffers manage to win again?" the host asked as the shot moved to the team of five, loitering together beneath a tree.
"Or will the Grips even things out?" Chris asked next as the shot cut to the team of five, all sitting outside at a picnic table.
"It can happen!" Anne Maria said.
"Right," Chris said in a close-up before smiling at the camera. "See for yourself, next, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode properly opened on a scene of the morning sun, a lilting tune playing as the camera panned down and over to the cast trailers. The sound of snoring could be heard as the shot zoomed further in on the boys' trailer, and cut inside to show the boys all in the beds they'd picked at the start of the season, though Justin was in the middle of a facial while a fan was blowing on his nails.
An air horn was sounded loudly as the shot zoomed in on Chase, who woke up with a snap. The focus switched to Scott, who opened his eyes and rubbed them before Ripper sat up and yawned.
"I call dibs on the bathroom!" Chase said after he got out of bed, rushing to the door of the trailer. The scene cut to a close-up of the handle as he grabbed it and pulled to no effect, leading him to frown and try pulling with both hands, still with no results.
Chase then saw Justin still in bed. "Can you help with this?"
“This is day 12 of my manicure!” Justin replied. “To risk any more cuticle damage would be madness!”
"I'll open the door if you can't," Ripper told Chase as he stood next to him. “I have more muscle than all of you wimps.”
“By all means, go ahead and give it a try,” Scott encouraged insincerely.
Ripper grabbed the handle and pulled to the best of his ability, but the door remained closed. "I can't open it. We're trapped."
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm pretty much the strongest of my brothers," Ripper told the confessional camera. "In my school, I'd usually have to rip open lockers so I could either stuff somebody into it or take money. I'd usually get weeks of detention for that though."
Confessional Ends
“Why did they even trap us in here?” Chase complained as the scene cut back to the guys' trailer.
“They probably want us to fight each other to see who'll come out on top,” Scott theorized.
“We should find a way out instead of doing that,” Justin argued. “My hands have just been manicured.”
The camera cut back outside as the scene panned over to the girls' trailer, and the camera cut inside to show Millie jiggling the girls' door handle.
"I don't know how I ended up inside this trailer when I slept in a tree, but we have to open the door," Jasmine panicked as the scene panned over to her. Anne Maria and Sky were sitting on the lower bunk next to her.
“I'm pretty sure they snuck you in here while you were sleeping,” Anne Maria said. “And why are you so worked up about this?”
“I have claustrophobia, and I hate being in tight spaces,” Jasmine said.
Millie gave up pulling the handle. “This thing is jammed. I'm not able to get it open.”
"So we should try a different exit," MK walked past the bunks and pointed up at the ceiling. The other girls looked up as well and the camera followed their gazes, stopping on an emergency hatch.
"One of us should be able to squeeze through it," Sky noted and tilted her head down at MK.
“Uh, why are you staring at me?” MK asked gruffly.
Confessional: Sky
"I'm not happy to see Trent leave this early," Sky confessed. "He did do some questionable things in the past few challenges, but I thought he could get better after our talk. Regardless," she looked at the camera with determination, "I have to not let this affect my game now that I'm competing without him for the first time, and we are still together, unlike me and Keith."
Confessional Ends
"You should be the one to do it," Sky told her petite teammate. "You are the smallest one here."
MK furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't like being singled out because of my height, but for the sake of escaping this trailer, I'll excuse it." The techno looked back up at the hatch. "I will need a boost though."
"I'll help you get up there," Jasmine offered as she walked over to the girl. "My height will definitely come in handy."
The scene flashed back over to the guys, showing them looking up at the hatch.
"So obviously, we need someone to fit through the hatch and open our trailer," Scott deduced.
"Count me out," Ripper huffed. "I'm too heavy to fit through."
“I'd do it, but I would need more people to climb up through,” Justin said. “This would be a lot easier if Brick was here.”
“Speaking of which, where is Brick anyway?” Chase asked aloud.
The scene cut over to the craft services tent before flashing inside to Brick standing in the kitchen wearing a pot as a hat while Chef stood next to him in his drill sergeant uniform. "Okay maggot," Chef said. "I'm gonna ride you 'til your confidence coats the back of a spoon and your self-respect forms stiff peaks!" He showed the cadet his reflection in a cleaver and said, "No more War Child Brick. Watch and learn." He used a knife to cut a banana, a can, a bitten apple, and a boot into pieces.
"What is that?" Brick wondered.
"Taste perfection, boy," Chef poured the sliced items into a pot and served a spoonful to Brick, who cringed in disgust. "What you're tasting is pride, son. The most important virtue in a man's life. Now stir that pot!" the cook ordered before storming out.
"If Chef wants pride, then I'm going to give it my best effort," Brick talked to himself as he stirred. "What he gave me was an order, and I always follow orders."
The scene flashed back to the guys' trailer, cutting inside as Ripper placed himself in a fighting position with his arm folded and sticking out in front of him.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Ripper?” Justin asked in concern.
"Of course," Ripper said. "All I have to do is show that door who's boss by bursting through it!" Moments later, he charged across the room, yelling at the top of his lungs.
The door opened outside just before Ripper reached it, and unable to stop himself, he flew outside, past a smirking Chris wearing a police uniform, and landed next to the girls who had already gathered outside their own trailer.
"Hope you all enjoyed your first taste of the gulag," Chris said as he walked over to them, the other boys coming out of their trailer and joining the group.
"Gulag?" Anne Maria asked as Ripper stood up and dusted himself off. "What even is that? Food?"
“Gulag means prison, not food,” Sky pointed out.
"Correctamondo," Chris told her. "Because today," the camera quick-panned to a prison set with high walls rimmed with barbed wire and several wooden dummies in prison uniforms set up in a courtyard, "is Prison Flick day!"
The castmates groaned.
"Ah, prison," Chris continued. "The confinement, the claustrophobia!" he said, getting excited as he began to pace back and forth in front of the unimpressed contestants, a tense tune building up in the background. "The vile, nasty food! And you're always lookin' over your shoulder, 'cause Mr. Killer Dude wants to cut ya for takin' the last tater tot! And no matter how hard you try, digging out spoonfuls of dirt, year after year, there's no escape!"
"Unless you get voted off, of course!" he added plainly.
Confessional: Chase
“As if this place wasn't prison-like enough,” Chase muttered. “Now we have to actually live like criminals. It won't surprise me if in a year or two, Chris gets locked up for teenage abuse.”
Confessional Ends
"Lockdown, people," Chris said with a grin as the footage cut back to him in the interior of a prison lit by a handful of stage lights. "Let's get this challenge started!" The shot pulled back, revealing the teams standing across from each other next to tables filled with a variety of cooking dishes. A covered cart sat near the hot, and in the background were a pair of cages.
"Teams, take a prisoner from the competition," he told them in a close-up as footsteps were heard in the background, "and Chef,” Chef arrived on screen in his earlier outfit, "I mean Warden," the host corrected with a wink. "Lock 'em up."
The shot cut over to the Grips. "Okay," Justin whispered as the five huddled, "we have to pick the weakest member of the other team."
“We do have to weigh our options,” Millie said. “Chase once told me that he swallowed ten bugs into his mouth in under a minute as a dare, and Scott and Sky have strong stomachs as evident in the eating challenge from last season.”
“Ripper doesn't seem the type to chuck out what he eats, so we're picking MK,” Jasmine decided.
The shot cut over to the Gaffers' huddle. "Obviously, we need to pick Millie for this," Scott suggested. "She's less likely to handle gross food."
"I would say Jasmine since she's less likely to go through being locked up because of her claustrophobia," MK said, "but using someone's fear against them would make me look bad."
"Looks like we have a choice," Chase finished.
"Choices?" Chris announced suddenly. "Gaffers?"
"We choose Millie," Sky announced, causing the writer to groan.
"Grips?" Chris followed up, taking a few steps to the other team. "Now remember, this is an important choice. Whoever gets the upper hand here could win the whole challenge!"
"Because of that," Brick announced, "we're picking MK." The techno girl gulped.
"Today's first game is," Chris announced as he walked back over to the covered cart, "the Prison Chow-llenge!" A few deep notes played as he grabbed the cover and whipped it away, revealing the stinking, rotting, half eaten food lying beneath. "Each team of prison chefs whips up the foulest, nastiest, most barf-inducing slop this side of Alcatraz," he explained as the camera moved in for a close-up of the 'food', then cut to a cringing Brick and a again to a somewhat surprised-looking Anne Maria.
"Millie and MK have to stomach as much as they can," the host explained. "Last one to power-hurl wins!"
"Technically, this isn't an actual prison," Millie said as Chef herded her into the cage closest to the Grips. "If I was, I'd be protesting how unfair my “arrest” is."
"That's what some of them say," Chris told her with a smile as the door slammed shut and the camera pulled back, showing that MK had been locked up as well.
Confessional: Millie
"I'm not exactly hyped for this," Millie confessed uncertainly. "With the exception of the Brunch of Disgustingness, I'm not the kind to eat gross food, and I don't plan on doing so in the future, but since I've already been nominated, I might as well just suck it up."
Confessional Ends
The camera panned across the Grips' table, showing only a handful of dishes filled with unidentifiable mush. "This just keeps getting worse and worse!" Millie said as she looked at it in horror.
"The reward better be worth it," MK said from her cage.
"Have I ever let you down?" Chris asked before quickly adding "Wait! Scratch that!" He smiled before continuing. "Anyway, the winning team gets this!" He held up a golden shovel, which gleamed in the light.
"A shovel?" Millie asked skeptically. “Seriously?”
Confessional: Jasmine
"Given what I know about confinement cells, I think I know what the next part of the challenge will be," Jasmine told the confessional camera. "If it's digging, then we have to believe that Millie will pull through for us."
Confessional Ends
"Prisoners ready?" Chris called from between the two cages. "Aaaand, culinate!"
The host continued his rapid commentary as the Gaffers were shown making their first moves around a large bowl of something brown. "Ripper goes right for the roaches. Chase tops it off with some moldy pineapple slices and oh! Here come the horse lips!" The burly boy dropped his ingredient into the bowl and walked away while the daredevil stuffed the pineapples into the bowl and grabbed some horse lips in order to add them in.
Sky approached the table from the other side. “Where did you even get these things?” the athlete asked.
"I found some leftover pineapples from the beach party," Chase told her before they left the table.
“Gross, but effective,” Sky said.
Scott arrived with his wife beater taken off and in his hands. “This oughta be good,” he snickered as he twisted his cloth and squeezed out all the sweat into the bowl. After doing so, he put his wife beater back on his bare chest.
The camera cut over to the Grips as Justin took some dead hair out of his pockets and put them into his team's bowl. "Looks like Justin is sacrificing some of his dead hair," Chris commented as Jasmine stepped forward with a cheese grater and a moldy onion, "and Jasmine adds a topping of ripe onion." The Australian woman quickly grated the onion and walked away as Anne Maria walked up to the bowl.
"Remember," Brick whispered to the Jersey girl, "we're trying to make the food gross, not tasty."
"I know that, which is why I'm throwing out these expired lip gloss," Anne Maria said as she took out two sticks of lip gloss and put them in the bowl, followed by her using her spray can on it.
"Time's up!" Chris announced suddenly and with a grin. "And jailbirds, hope your appetites are primed!"
"Hope you're not feeling queasy today," Jasmine said with a smirk as she delivered her team's bowl of white-and-moldy 'food' over to MK.
"Here is what me and my team put together," Chase said as he walked past to take a bowl of something mostly brown to Millie. “Sorry if it grosses you out, babe.”
"This looks," Millie said before gulping, "uh, incredibly...not so bad..."
"Are you maggots ready?" Chris asked excitedly. The shot cut to a close-up of maggots squirming beneath the white mush, the camera zooming out to show a horrified MK. "One minute to down that chow! Aaaaanndd...Dig in!"
The hacker took a spoonful of prison food and forced it into her mouth, cringing and shuddering immediately.
Confessional: MK
"I don't even know how the contestants could go through the Brunch of Disgustingness without dying last season," MK admitted in the make-up trailer. "I clearly don't have the iron stomach for this challenge, even after eating Chef's grossening excuse for food for two seasons."
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back to Millie as she hesitantly plunged the first spoonful into her mouth. She swallowed it whole and moaned. "What did you even put in this? Anchovy paste?"
"Not gonna answer," Ripper snorted cruelly.
Millie took another spoonful, and after a pause, she opened her mouth and pulled out a moldy pineapple slice. She shuddered again and flung it away from her.
A quick-pan over to MK showed the short girl forcing her way through her own meal. "Don't think about it," she said with a disgusted grimace after a swallow. "Do not think about it!" She took another bite, shuddered, and swallowed.
Seeing her struggle, Scott quickly conducted a plan. "Wow, who knew Millie had such a strong stomach?" he said to his team. "Especially after I squeezed all of my sweat into the bowl!"
“What?!” Millie's eyes went wide as she dropped her bowl of food to the ground with an off-screen splat. She vomited moments later, in a stream that hit a stunned MK in the head.
"MK keeps it down for the Screaming Gaffers," Chris announced over a piece of triumphant music, "and wins the reward!"
The Gaffers cheered, Sky holding the golden shovel in her hand.
"Hey Chris, can I throw up now?" MK asked as Chris let her out.
"As long as you don't get any puke on my hair and below, go right ahead," Chris told her.
"Cool," MK said, holding her stomach as she walked out of her cage. The moment the host left, she turned around and grabbed the side of her former cell, and puked right into it.
"Are you gonna be alright?" Sky asked as she and Scott walked over to her.
"Yeah," MK said after she turned around. "I was just waiting for Millie to puke her guts out."
"And because of me, she did it much faster," Scott gloated. “My sweat came through for us.
“You didn't need to say it out loud,” Sky told her teammate. “That was sort of cheating.”
"You say cheating, we say getting an advantage," MK said before getting queasy again. "Now can you excuse me for a sec?" Without waiting for a response, she turned back around and puked again.
The camera cut to Chef on another part of the set. "Sir, we may not have won," Brick said as he ran over to the cook, "but I can take pride in the fact that we created a meal that even you wouldn't eat."
"You've still got more to learn!" Chef shouted.
“Pardon?” Brick grew confused.
“Pride and two bucks will get you a cup of coffee!” Chef said. “What a man really needs is loyalty, and you clearly came through for your team. If it wasn't for the sweat thing, you would've won!”
“Thank you?” Brick said confusingly.
Chef placed a hand on his shoulder. “I was once like you. Young, weird, kinda ugly. But you've got a gift. Now own it. Don't let it go to waste. Like I did,” he sniffled and returned to his gruff state. “Meet me in the kitchen after the challenge. You're on permanent KP duty, soldier,” he said as he left.
Confessional: Brick
“I had no idea Chef could show empathy towards me, and though I don't like going against my morals by doing this secret alliance, that was the highlight,” Brick said with a smile.
Confessional Ends
(Commercial Break)
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Screaming Gaffers: Chase, MK, Ripper, Scott, Sky
Episode 7: The Chefshank Redemption
"Last week, the dry desert heat baked our favorite pardners like roadkill on the black top! But, crispy bottoms or not, they still had to mount their ancient steed… from a hundred-foot platform!"
“But that wasn't all. A calf-roping contest had the teams lasso each other. When Trent threw challenges for Sky, she gave him a much deserved talking to, which led to some Total Drama from Justin. Well, poor old deputy Trent found himself hitching a ride on the 3:10 to Loserville.”
"With ten remaining, it's anyone's guess who will win this week!" The camera now showed the cast trailers, with nobody in sight. "Will the Gaffers manage to win again?" the host asked as the shot moved to the team of five, loitering together beneath a tree.
"Or will the Grips even things out?" Chris asked next as the shot cut to the team of five, all sitting outside at a picnic table.
"It can happen!" Anne Maria said.
"Right," Chris said in a close-up before smiling at the camera. "See for yourself, next, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode properly opened on a scene of the morning sun, a lilting tune playing as the camera panned down and over to the cast trailers. The sound of snoring could be heard as the shot zoomed further in on the boys' trailer, and cut inside to show the boys all in the beds they'd picked at the start of the season, though Justin was in the middle of a facial while a fan was blowing on his nails.
An air horn was sounded loudly as the shot zoomed in on Chase, who woke up with a snap. The focus switched to Scott, who opened his eyes and rubbed them before Ripper sat up and yawned.
"I call dibs on the bathroom!" Chase said after he got out of bed, rushing to the door of the trailer. The scene cut to a close-up of the handle as he grabbed it and pulled to no effect, leading him to frown and try pulling with both hands, still with no results.
Chase then saw Justin still in bed. "Can you help with this?"
“This is day 12 of my manicure!” Justin replied. “To risk any more cuticle damage would be madness!”
"I'll open the door if you can't," Ripper told Chase as he stood next to him. “I have more muscle than all of you wimps.”
“By all means, go ahead and give it a try,” Scott encouraged insincerely.
Ripper grabbed the handle and pulled to the best of his ability, but the door remained closed. "I can't open it. We're trapped."
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm pretty much the strongest of my brothers," Ripper told the confessional camera. "In my school, I'd usually have to rip open lockers so I could either stuff somebody into it or take money. I'd usually get weeks of detention for that though."
Confessional Ends
“Why did they even trap us in here?” Chase complained as the scene cut back to the guys' trailer.
“They probably want us to fight each other to see who'll come out on top,” Scott theorized.
“We should find a way out instead of doing that,” Justin argued. “My hands have just been manicured.”
The camera cut back outside as the scene panned over to the girls' trailer, and the camera cut inside to show Millie jiggling the girls' door handle.
"I don't know how I ended up inside this trailer when I slept in a tree, but we have to open the door," Jasmine panicked as the scene panned over to her. Anne Maria and Sky were sitting on the lower bunk next to her.
“I'm pretty sure they snuck you in here while you were sleeping,” Anne Maria said. “And why are you so worked up about this?”
“I have claustrophobia, and I hate being in tight spaces,” Jasmine said.
Millie gave up pulling the handle. “This thing is jammed. I'm not able to get it open.”
"So we should try a different exit," MK walked past the bunks and pointed up at the ceiling. The other girls looked up as well and the camera followed their gazes, stopping on an emergency hatch.
"One of us should be able to squeeze through it," Sky noted and tilted her head down at MK.
“Uh, why are you staring at me?” MK asked gruffly.
Confessional: Sky
"I'm not happy to see Trent leave this early," Sky confessed. "He did do some questionable things in the past few challenges, but I thought he could get better after our talk. Regardless," she looked at the camera with determination, "I have to not let this affect my game now that I'm competing without him for the first time, and we are still together, unlike me and Keith."
Confessional Ends
"You should be the one to do it," Sky told her petite teammate. "You are the smallest one here."
MK furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't like being singled out because of my height, but for the sake of escaping this trailer, I'll excuse it." The techno looked back up at the hatch. "I will need a boost though."
"I'll help you get up there," Jasmine offered as she walked over to the girl. "My height will definitely come in handy."
The scene flashed back over to the guys, showing them looking up at the hatch.
"So obviously, we need someone to fit through the hatch and open our trailer," Scott deduced.
"Count me out," Ripper huffed. "I'm too heavy to fit through."
“I'd do it, but I would need more people to climb up through,” Justin said. “This would be a lot easier if Brick was here.”
“Speaking of which, where is Brick anyway?” Chase asked aloud.
The scene cut over to the craft services tent before flashing inside to Brick standing in the kitchen wearing a pot as a hat while Chef stood next to him in his drill sergeant uniform. "Okay maggot," Chef said. "I'm gonna ride you 'til your confidence coats the back of a spoon and your self-respect forms stiff peaks!" He showed the cadet his reflection in a cleaver and said, "No more War Child Brick. Watch and learn." He used a knife to cut a banana, a can, a bitten apple, and a boot into pieces.
"What is that?" Brick wondered.
"Taste perfection, boy," Chef poured the sliced items into a pot and served a spoonful to Brick, who cringed in disgust. "What you're tasting is pride, son. The most important virtue in a man's life. Now stir that pot!" the cook ordered before storming out.
"If Chef wants pride, then I'm going to give it my best effort," Brick talked to himself as he stirred. "What he gave me was an order, and I always follow orders."
The scene flashed back to the guys' trailer, cutting inside as Ripper placed himself in a fighting position with his arm folded and sticking out in front of him.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Ripper?” Justin asked in concern.
"Of course," Ripper said. "All I have to do is show that door who's boss by bursting through it!" Moments later, he charged across the room, yelling at the top of his lungs.
The door opened outside just before Ripper reached it, and unable to stop himself, he flew outside, past a smirking Chris wearing a police uniform, and landed next to the girls who had already gathered outside their own trailer.
"Hope you all enjoyed your first taste of the gulag," Chris said as he walked over to them, the other boys coming out of their trailer and joining the group.
"Gulag?" Anne Maria asked as Ripper stood up and dusted himself off. "What even is that? Food?"
“Gulag means prison, not food,” Sky pointed out.
"Correctamondo," Chris told her. "Because today," the camera quick-panned to a prison set with high walls rimmed with barbed wire and several wooden dummies in prison uniforms set up in a courtyard, "is Prison Flick day!"
The castmates groaned.
"Ah, prison," Chris continued. "The confinement, the claustrophobia!" he said, getting excited as he began to pace back and forth in front of the unimpressed contestants, a tense tune building up in the background. "The vile, nasty food! And you're always lookin' over your shoulder, 'cause Mr. Killer Dude wants to cut ya for takin' the last tater tot! And no matter how hard you try, digging out spoonfuls of dirt, year after year, there's no escape!"
"Unless you get voted off, of course!" he added plainly.
Confessional: Chase
“As if this place wasn't prison-like enough,” Chase muttered. “Now we have to actually live like criminals. It won't surprise me if in a year or two, Chris gets locked up for teenage abuse.”
Confessional Ends
"Lockdown, people," Chris said with a grin as the footage cut back to him in the interior of a prison lit by a handful of stage lights. "Let's get this challenge started!" The shot pulled back, revealing the teams standing across from each other next to tables filled with a variety of cooking dishes. A covered cart sat near the hot, and in the background were a pair of cages.
"Teams, take a prisoner from the competition," he told them in a close-up as footsteps were heard in the background, "and Chef,” Chef arrived on screen in his earlier outfit, "I mean Warden," the host corrected with a wink. "Lock 'em up."
The shot cut over to the Grips. "Okay," Justin whispered as the five huddled, "we have to pick the weakest member of the other team."
“We do have to weigh our options,” Millie said. “Chase once told me that he swallowed ten bugs into his mouth in under a minute as a dare, and Scott and Sky have strong stomachs as evident in the eating challenge from last season.”
“Ripper doesn't seem the type to chuck out what he eats, so we're picking MK,” Jasmine decided.
The shot cut over to the Gaffers' huddle. "Obviously, we need to pick Millie for this," Scott suggested. "She's less likely to handle gross food."
"I would say Jasmine since she's less likely to go through being locked up because of her claustrophobia," MK said, "but using someone's fear against them would make me look bad."
"Looks like we have a choice," Chase finished.
"Choices?" Chris announced suddenly. "Gaffers?"
"We choose Millie," Sky announced, causing the writer to groan.
"Grips?" Chris followed up, taking a few steps to the other team. "Now remember, this is an important choice. Whoever gets the upper hand here could win the whole challenge!"
"Because of that," Brick announced, "we're picking MK." The techno girl gulped.
"Today's first game is," Chris announced as he walked back over to the covered cart, "the Prison Chow-llenge!" A few deep notes played as he grabbed the cover and whipped it away, revealing the stinking, rotting, half eaten food lying beneath. "Each team of prison chefs whips up the foulest, nastiest, most barf-inducing slop this side of Alcatraz," he explained as the camera moved in for a close-up of the 'food', then cut to a cringing Brick and a again to a somewhat surprised-looking Anne Maria.
"Millie and MK have to stomach as much as they can," the host explained. "Last one to power-hurl wins!"
"Technically, this isn't an actual prison," Millie said as Chef herded her into the cage closest to the Grips. "If I was, I'd be protesting how unfair my “arrest” is."
"That's what some of them say," Chris told her with a smile as the door slammed shut and the camera pulled back, showing that MK had been locked up as well.
Confessional: Millie
"I'm not exactly hyped for this," Millie confessed uncertainly. "With the exception of the Brunch of Disgustingness, I'm not the kind to eat gross food, and I don't plan on doing so in the future, but since I've already been nominated, I might as well just suck it up."
Confessional Ends
The camera panned across the Grips' table, showing only a handful of dishes filled with unidentifiable mush. "This just keeps getting worse and worse!" Millie said as she looked at it in horror.
"The reward better be worth it," MK said from her cage.
"Have I ever let you down?" Chris asked before quickly adding "Wait! Scratch that!" He smiled before continuing. "Anyway, the winning team gets this!" He held up a golden shovel, which gleamed in the light.
"A shovel?" Millie asked skeptically. “Seriously?”
Confessional: Jasmine
"Given what I know about confinement cells, I think I know what the next part of the challenge will be," Jasmine told the confessional camera. "If it's digging, then we have to believe that Millie will pull through for us."
Confessional Ends
"Prisoners ready?" Chris called from between the two cages. "Aaaand, culinate!"
The host continued his rapid commentary as the Gaffers were shown making their first moves around a large bowl of something brown. "Ripper goes right for the roaches. Chase tops it off with some moldy pineapple slices and oh! Here come the horse lips!" The burly boy dropped his ingredient into the bowl and walked away while the daredevil stuffed the pineapples into the bowl and grabbed some horse lips in order to add them in.
Sky approached the table from the other side. “Where did you even get these things?” the athlete asked.
"I found some leftover pineapples from the beach party," Chase told her before they left the table.
“Gross, but effective,” Sky said.
Scott arrived with his wife beater taken off and in his hands. “This oughta be good,” he snickered as he twisted his cloth and squeezed out all the sweat into the bowl. After doing so, he put his wife beater back on his bare chest.
The camera cut over to the Grips as Justin took some dead hair out of his pockets and put them into his team's bowl. "Looks like Justin is sacrificing some of his dead hair," Chris commented as Jasmine stepped forward with a cheese grater and a moldy onion, "and Jasmine adds a topping of ripe onion." The Australian woman quickly grated the onion and walked away as Anne Maria walked up to the bowl.
"Remember," Brick whispered to the Jersey girl, "we're trying to make the food gross, not tasty."
"I know that, which is why I'm throwing out these expired lip gloss," Anne Maria said as she took out two sticks of lip gloss and put them in the bowl, followed by her using her spray can on it.
"Time's up!" Chris announced suddenly and with a grin. "And jailbirds, hope your appetites are primed!"
"Hope you're not feeling queasy today," Jasmine said with a smirk as she delivered her team's bowl of white-and-moldy 'food' over to MK.
"Here is what me and my team put together," Chase said as he walked past to take a bowl of something mostly brown to Millie. “Sorry if it grosses you out, babe.”
"This looks," Millie said before gulping, "uh, incredibly...not so bad..."
"Are you maggots ready?" Chris asked excitedly. The shot cut to a close-up of maggots squirming beneath the white mush, the camera zooming out to show a horrified MK. "One minute to down that chow! Aaaaanndd...Dig in!"
The hacker took a spoonful of prison food and forced it into her mouth, cringing and shuddering immediately.
Confessional: MK
"I don't even know how the contestants could go through the Brunch of Disgustingness without dying last season," MK admitted in the make-up trailer. "I clearly don't have the iron stomach for this challenge, even after eating Chef's grossening excuse for food for two seasons."
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back to Millie as she hesitantly plunged the first spoonful into her mouth. She swallowed it whole and moaned. "What did you even put in this? Anchovy paste?"
"Not gonna answer," Ripper snorted cruelly.
Millie took another spoonful, and after a pause, she opened her mouth and pulled out a moldy pineapple slice. She shuddered again and flung it away from her.
A quick-pan over to MK showed the short girl forcing her way through her own meal. "Don't think about it," she said with a disgusted grimace after a swallow. "Do not think about it!" She took another bite, shuddered, and swallowed.
Seeing her struggle, Scott quickly conducted a plan. "Wow, who knew Millie had such a strong stomach?" he said to his team. "Especially after I squeezed all of my sweat into the bowl!"
“What?!” Millie's eyes went wide as she dropped her bowl of food to the ground with an off-screen splat. She vomited moments later, in a stream that hit a stunned MK in the head.
"MK keeps it down for the Screaming Gaffers," Chris announced over a piece of triumphant music, "and wins the reward!"
The Gaffers cheered, Sky holding the golden shovel in her hand.
"Hey Chris, can I throw up now?" MK asked as Chris let her out.
"As long as you don't get any puke on my hair and below, go right ahead," Chris told her.
"Cool," MK said, holding her stomach as she walked out of her cage. The moment the host left, she turned around and grabbed the side of her former cell, and puked right into it.
"Are you gonna be alright?" Sky asked as she and Scott walked over to her.
"Yeah," MK said after she turned around. "I was just waiting for Millie to puke her guts out."
"And because of me, she did it much faster," Scott gloated. “My sweat came through for us.
“You didn't need to say it out loud,” Sky told her teammate. “That was sort of cheating.”
"You say cheating, we say getting an advantage," MK said before getting queasy again. "Now can you excuse me for a sec?" Without waiting for a response, she turned back around and puked again.
The camera cut to Chef on another part of the set. "Sir, we may not have won," Brick said as he ran over to the cook, "but I can take pride in the fact that we created a meal that even you wouldn't eat."
"You've still got more to learn!" Chef shouted.
“Pardon?” Brick grew confused.
“Pride and two bucks will get you a cup of coffee!” Chef said. “What a man really needs is loyalty, and you clearly came through for your team. If it wasn't for the sweat thing, you would've won!”
“Thank you?” Brick said confusingly.
Chef placed a hand on his shoulder. “I was once like you. Young, weird, kinda ugly. But you've got a gift. Now own it. Don't let it go to waste. Like I did,” he sniffled and returned to his gruff state. “Meet me in the kitchen after the challenge. You're on permanent KP duty, soldier,” he said as he left.
Confessional: Brick
“I had no idea Chef could show empathy towards me, and though I don't like going against my morals by doing this secret alliance, that was the highlight,” Brick said with a smile.
Confessional Ends
(Commercial Break)
2024.05.16 00:04 APR2304 Wall with steel beam
 | Hello fellow remodelers! Today I need your help. submitted by APR2304 to Remodel [link] [comments] I am currently pregnant and expecting our firstborn in November. We have a second bedroom in our house that has been used as an office and library, however it is now time we change it to a nursery room. The thing is that the longer wall (where I’d like to place the crib) has a big steel beam that makes it hard for me to imagine how we could decorate the room. The beam goes all along the wall and it’s a nice industrial design like the rest of the house, however I can’t imagine the nursery having it that way. If you asked me, I’d say I want that wall to be wrapped in a cute wall paper. Or in any case, paint completely the wall and add some wall moldings like people do now a days - a more vintage, elegant style. I just don’t know how any of those options could be a possibility given the fact that the beam makes the wall uneven, it’s not straight! Do you have any ideas of how I could apply those two options? Or if you have any other, it’d be much appreciated. FYI, we can’t add wood moldings to “hide” the beam because the closet door would not be able to be opened. Find attached some images of the wall, and thank you for taking the time to read this. |
2024.05.15 22:30 Ben_Elohim_2020 The Nature of Family [Chapter 17]
Credit to Blue for the wonderful cover art of Trilvri
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
u/EdibleGojid, author of Dark Cuts, for proofreading.
EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
You, the reader, for your support. I love reading your comments.
Please consider reading the works of my proofreaders as they’re all authors of excellent stories and be sure to check the links below for more of my work and beautiful art from members of the community.
[First] [Previous] [Next] [Master List of Stories, Art, and More!]
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Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
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A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!
submitted by Ben_Elohim_2020 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
u/EdibleGojid, author of Dark Cuts, for proofreading.
EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
You, the reader, for your support. I love reading your comments.
Please consider reading the works of my proofreaders as they’re all authors of excellent stories and be sure to check the links below for more of my work and beautiful art from members of the community.
[First] [Previous] [Next] [Master List of Stories, Art, and More!]
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
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A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!
2024.05.15 22:18 GrimmInDarkness Torn Veil: A Priest's Descent
Detective Pierce and his colleague Morrison walked down the dark hall to the interrogation room where Seminarian Crawford Rossi awaited them.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Crawford Rossi." Pierce greeted as he walked inside taking a seat.
Rossi cradled a foam coffee cup in his hands looking up at them with dark circles under his eyes "Good evening." he mumbled.
"I want to talk to you about what happened to Father Pesci." Pierce began opening a case file he brought with him.
"Father Pesci..." Rossi spoke softly keeping his head down before looking at both detectives "He wasn't a bad man."
Morrison nods in understanding “We just need to hear your side of the story.”
Rossi’s shoulders went lax, and he leaned back looking up at the dim light hanging above them.
“It was the day before Easter Sunday. We were setting things up and there was this weird box among the decorations.” he began rubbing his hands together and looked back at the detectives.
“A weird box?” Pierce questioned.
Rossi nods “I know it seems strange but…” he paused biting his bottom lip “This box didn’t belong to the church. When I took it to Father Pesci, he said it was probably donated by someone.”
Morrison nodded and jotted down notes in his notepad “What did this box look like?”
The Seminarian began describing to them the box he had found. It was a medium ornate box the baby blue and white polka dot wrapping paper was weathered as if it had been left in the sun all day. The white ribbon was frayed and splotched with tiny specks of red. The box felt so heavy in his hands.
“Did you ever open this box?” Pierce asked.
Rossi shook his head “N-no it felt wrong.”
“So, an old gift felt wrong to you?” Morrison scoffed shaking his head.
“Since it was unopened” Rossi wrung his hands together “I put it in Father Pesci’s office that morning and by the evening it was open” the Seminarian paused looking up at the detectives.
“What of Father Pesci?” Pierce questioned “What did he find inside that box?”
Rossi sat back in his chair rubbing his hands onto his pants “He was in the corner of his office mumbling to himself and the box…” he took a deep breath and exhaled “Oozed a brownish red onto his desk.”
During the service that evening Father Pesci will have murdered an entire congregation. Their heads placed onto their laps and hands wired together in prayer. Pesci himself disappeared after leaving symbols written in blood all over the walls behind the podium. The gift box was missing and nowhere to be found along with one of the hearses.
“I’m sure the entire event has been quite traumatic for you. Since you were the one to find the service in such a grim state” said Pierce giving Rossi a knowing smile trying to give the man some comfort.
“Detectives” the Seminarian began licking his lips “Will you be able to find the father before he hurts more people?” he leaned forward looking them both in the eyes.
“Of course we’ll find him.” Morrison was confident.
Pierce wanted to relay the same energy but according to the reports they had gotten back the hearse that Father Pesci had taken was found abandoned in the next town. Which means from there the possessed Pesci walked the rest of the way to his destination.
He did however have an idea where the Father was heading. There was an older case where a clown was attending a child’s birthday party. Or what was supposed to be. When the professional entertainer got to the house he was greeted by a cult. This cult did unspeakable things to this man using him in a ritual for whatever god they worshipped. Then placed his head into the very box that he had brought the birthday cake in.
A medium box with baby blue wrapping paper with white polka dots and a white ribbon on top.
A possessed Father Pesci was heading to the place where it all started. The place where that thing that now wore him like a suit was brought into this world. Pierce looked over at Morrison who furrowed his brow.
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford Rossi we will contact, you when we find Father Pesci.” Pierce assured him who nodded anxiously looking around before getting up to leave the room.
Rossi solemnly nodded getting up from his chair. As he walked to the door to exit the interrogation room he looked back at Morrison and Pierce. “There was something else I need to mention” he spoke low making the detectives to strain their ears to listen “Before I found Father Pesci he was talking to someone. A voice I never heard before, but it filled me full of dread.”
“Why are you telling us this now?” inquired Morrison
Rossi held his hands in front of him in a silent prayer “Because I don’t think I should have heard what they were talking about.”
Pierce scratched his chin “Can you tell us what was said?”
Rossi shook his head “No…no if I do. IT will come for me next.”
The ‘it’ he was referring to must have been whatever had possessed Father Pesci. He left the room leaving both detectives to go over the information they had gathered. Morrison flipped through his notes and clicked his tongue.
“What are we even supposed to do with any of this?” he scoffed motioning to the notepad in his hand.
“Don’t worry we have plenty of information to go off. Besides I know where we will find Father Pesci and hopefully, we will arrive in time.” answered Pierce who stood up first and headed to the door.
Morrison scratched his head following behind his coworker “I sure hope you’re right.”
Honestly even Pierce himself hoped he was right too because they had a long car ride ahead of them and had to make sure they brought the proper equipment with them. They had a Priest to exercise after all.
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"Good afternoon, Mr. Crawford Rossi." Pierce greeted as he walked inside taking a seat.
Rossi cradled a foam coffee cup in his hands looking up at them with dark circles under his eyes "Good evening." he mumbled.
"I want to talk to you about what happened to Father Pesci." Pierce began opening a case file he brought with him.
"Father Pesci..." Rossi spoke softly keeping his head down before looking at both detectives "He wasn't a bad man."
Morrison nods in understanding “We just need to hear your side of the story.”
Rossi’s shoulders went lax, and he leaned back looking up at the dim light hanging above them.
“It was the day before Easter Sunday. We were setting things up and there was this weird box among the decorations.” he began rubbing his hands together and looked back at the detectives.
“A weird box?” Pierce questioned.
Rossi nods “I know it seems strange but…” he paused biting his bottom lip “This box didn’t belong to the church. When I took it to Father Pesci, he said it was probably donated by someone.”
Morrison nodded and jotted down notes in his notepad “What did this box look like?”
The Seminarian began describing to them the box he had found. It was a medium ornate box the baby blue and white polka dot wrapping paper was weathered as if it had been left in the sun all day. The white ribbon was frayed and splotched with tiny specks of red. The box felt so heavy in his hands.
“Did you ever open this box?” Pierce asked.
Rossi shook his head “N-no it felt wrong.”
“So, an old gift felt wrong to you?” Morrison scoffed shaking his head.
“Since it was unopened” Rossi wrung his hands together “I put it in Father Pesci’s office that morning and by the evening it was open” the Seminarian paused looking up at the detectives.
“What of Father Pesci?” Pierce questioned “What did he find inside that box?”
Rossi sat back in his chair rubbing his hands onto his pants “He was in the corner of his office mumbling to himself and the box…” he took a deep breath and exhaled “Oozed a brownish red onto his desk.”
During the service that evening Father Pesci will have murdered an entire congregation. Their heads placed onto their laps and hands wired together in prayer. Pesci himself disappeared after leaving symbols written in blood all over the walls behind the podium. The gift box was missing and nowhere to be found along with one of the hearses.
“I’m sure the entire event has been quite traumatic for you. Since you were the one to find the service in such a grim state” said Pierce giving Rossi a knowing smile trying to give the man some comfort.
“Detectives” the Seminarian began licking his lips “Will you be able to find the father before he hurts more people?” he leaned forward looking them both in the eyes.
“Of course we’ll find him.” Morrison was confident.
Pierce wanted to relay the same energy but according to the reports they had gotten back the hearse that Father Pesci had taken was found abandoned in the next town. Which means from there the possessed Pesci walked the rest of the way to his destination.
He did however have an idea where the Father was heading. There was an older case where a clown was attending a child’s birthday party. Or what was supposed to be. When the professional entertainer got to the house he was greeted by a cult. This cult did unspeakable things to this man using him in a ritual for whatever god they worshipped. Then placed his head into the very box that he had brought the birthday cake in.
A medium box with baby blue wrapping paper with white polka dots and a white ribbon on top.
A possessed Father Pesci was heading to the place where it all started. The place where that thing that now wore him like a suit was brought into this world. Pierce looked over at Morrison who furrowed his brow.
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford Rossi we will contact, you when we find Father Pesci.” Pierce assured him who nodded anxiously looking around before getting up to leave the room.
Rossi solemnly nodded getting up from his chair. As he walked to the door to exit the interrogation room he looked back at Morrison and Pierce. “There was something else I need to mention” he spoke low making the detectives to strain their ears to listen “Before I found Father Pesci he was talking to someone. A voice I never heard before, but it filled me full of dread.”
“Why are you telling us this now?” inquired Morrison
Rossi held his hands in front of him in a silent prayer “Because I don’t think I should have heard what they were talking about.”
Pierce scratched his chin “Can you tell us what was said?”
Rossi shook his head “No…no if I do. IT will come for me next.”
The ‘it’ he was referring to must have been whatever had possessed Father Pesci. He left the room leaving both detectives to go over the information they had gathered. Morrison flipped through his notes and clicked his tongue.
“What are we even supposed to do with any of this?” he scoffed motioning to the notepad in his hand.
“Don’t worry we have plenty of information to go off. Besides I know where we will find Father Pesci and hopefully, we will arrive in time.” answered Pierce who stood up first and headed to the door.
Morrison scratched his head following behind his coworker “I sure hope you’re right.”
Honestly even Pierce himself hoped he was right too because they had a long car ride ahead of them and had to make sure they brought the proper equipment with them. They had a Priest to exercise after all.
2024.05.15 22:08 Johnwestrick The House on Jackson Street
I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same abandoned house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the front door of the house swing wide. Light pours out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries. The one who has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there, standing in touching distance from her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always left me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years since the last time I've seen her. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I begin to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three was the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more surprising, I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
A writhing anger fills me at this thought. I don't want to think of that day. The day the sun stopped shining. The day my life was uprooted and tossed carelessly in the trash. I try my best to tune that cursed melody out of my mind, but it fights me tooth and nail at every turn. It refuses to depart like a troublesome guest unwilling to take a hint. Even still, I find my feet moving towards the sound.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I know on the other side of the door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. A feeling of unease bubbles to the surface, bringing with it a queasy gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lunch begin to squirm its way back up, burning my throat and causing a tingling sensation deep in my nasal cavity.
I know all my efforts are fruitless. The memories will come back. The dam I built to hold them at bay has already begun to crack. It will crumble soon. I know enough to know that I don't want to know, yet the details of that day are fuzzy. With each step closer to the door they come into focus. And as my hand reaches for the gilded doorknob, all goes black.
I’m back.
Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide, and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. I take it all in. My brain makes the connections. Rage, white-hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hanging on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes, but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch as his brain matter leaks out to the floor.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart, and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she says, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?
johnwestrick.com
submitted by Johnwestrick to AllureStories [link] [comments]
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same abandoned house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the front door of the house swing wide. Light pours out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries. The one who has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there, standing in touching distance from her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always left me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years since the last time I've seen her. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I begin to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three was the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more surprising, I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
A writhing anger fills me at this thought. I don't want to think of that day. The day the sun stopped shining. The day my life was uprooted and tossed carelessly in the trash. I try my best to tune that cursed melody out of my mind, but it fights me tooth and nail at every turn. It refuses to depart like a troublesome guest unwilling to take a hint. Even still, I find my feet moving towards the sound.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I know on the other side of the door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. A feeling of unease bubbles to the surface, bringing with it a queasy gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lunch begin to squirm its way back up, burning my throat and causing a tingling sensation deep in my nasal cavity.
I know all my efforts are fruitless. The memories will come back. The dam I built to hold them at bay has already begun to crack. It will crumble soon. I know enough to know that I don't want to know, yet the details of that day are fuzzy. With each step closer to the door they come into focus. And as my hand reaches for the gilded doorknob, all goes black.
I’m back.
Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide, and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. I take it all in. My brain makes the connections. Rage, white-hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hanging on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes, but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch as his brain matter leaks out to the floor.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart, and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she says, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?
johnwestrick.com
2024.05.15 21:16 oatmilkcoldbrew Sometimes kids and admin actually appreciate teachers
Context: my school moved teacher appreciation week for us so it wouldn’t be when testing was so admin could do more stuff for us (and they really did the stuff)!
I have not had an easy year. It’s my first year teaching, I’m in 6th grade, and the school has a lot of issues that come from external issues in the community and a lack of teacher retention. Student behavior has been insane as a mild way to describe it. I have been told by multiple people that they are surprised I’m still here. Today my kids let me know they know I care.
This morning I was delivered a bakery box with a tiny cheesecake covered in fruit. It was beautifully decorated and garnished with a gold butterfly. The best part was, this was organized by 3 6th grade boys, one of which I have had some issues with. They knocked on my door and said “happy teacher appreciation Ms. Oatmilkcoldbrew!” I almost cried when they handed me this and it was genuinely so sweet.
I’m very lucky to be where I am. I have an admin who genuinely cares about us and does our best to support us. The parents in this community are (for the most part) super supportive of anyone trying to support their kid. On top of that, admin went all out for teacher appreciation. Our assistant principal literally made us all breakfast this morning (yes, MADE) and we have a full week of stuff planned. Kids have also been encouraged to get involved and are actually doing it. Again, this year has been ROUGH, but we’re making it through. I am not sure I would be teaching still if I were in a place with less support.
submitted by oatmilkcoldbrew to Teachers [link] [comments]
I have not had an easy year. It’s my first year teaching, I’m in 6th grade, and the school has a lot of issues that come from external issues in the community and a lack of teacher retention. Student behavior has been insane as a mild way to describe it. I have been told by multiple people that they are surprised I’m still here. Today my kids let me know they know I care.
This morning I was delivered a bakery box with a tiny cheesecake covered in fruit. It was beautifully decorated and garnished with a gold butterfly. The best part was, this was organized by 3 6th grade boys, one of which I have had some issues with. They knocked on my door and said “happy teacher appreciation Ms. Oatmilkcoldbrew!” I almost cried when they handed me this and it was genuinely so sweet.
I’m very lucky to be where I am. I have an admin who genuinely cares about us and does our best to support us. The parents in this community are (for the most part) super supportive of anyone trying to support their kid. On top of that, admin went all out for teacher appreciation. Our assistant principal literally made us all breakfast this morning (yes, MADE) and we have a full week of stuff planned. Kids have also been encouraged to get involved and are actually doing it. Again, this year has been ROUGH, but we’re making it through. I am not sure I would be teaching still if I were in a place with less support.