I'm walking through a bustling underground train station. I push and shove my way through all the other commuters onto the platform. As I look around, there seems to be endless rows of platforms in both directions, stretching well into a dense fog. Further ahead, neat lines of railway tracks extend out from the fog and through the platforms. I instinctually look up at the info screen
Next train in ### minutes
I furrow my brow, squint to try and focus on the numbers but they're heavily pixelated and illegible. I look around at the other commuters, who stream onto the platform completely unaware of the anomaly. Most people are on their phone, or wearing headphones while some are talking to each other. No one seems to notice the malfunction with the screen.
That's when the absurdity of the situation clicks for me. Endless platforms, a wall of fog, unreadable numbers and people that don't care. It's all a dream. I bring my hand up to my face and pinch my nose, trying to breathe through it. An old reality check I remembered from back when I was trying to learn to lucid dream.
My heart rate jumped when I realised, that I couldn't breathe through my nose. Before I could even process this, another problem presented itself. I didn't know why I was here. I didn't know where I was going and I definitely did not know how I even got here. It seems as if reality ceased to exist right before I walked onto this platform. Just like it typically feels in a dream, you spawn in out of nowhere and don't really know what happened prior - except this wasn't a dream.
I knew I was sure of it because deep inside my bones I felt this anxious urgent message. I need to catch this train. It was a primal feeling.
At this point, my head is spinning and I need to sit down somewhere. I choose a silver bench with a middle aged woman sitting on it. She shuffles further to the left as I sit down next to her clutching my head and racking my brain to try and figure out what it is happening. This is what amnesia feels like, I thought to my self as I gnawed at scraps of messy muddled memories. Each image that came into my mind was just a fragment - A school, a library, sickeningly white walls. It hit me that I didn't even know my name. I was starting to hyperventilate but then my body kicked into autopilot. I started to take deep breaths, focusing on my diaphragm and calming myself down. It felt like I was trained to do this. I started to focus on the current situation.
Where was my ticket? Instinctually, I knew I had to have gotten one on my entry to the train station. I reached into my pockets and pulled out a scrap of paper. Scrawled in very familiar cursive:
*In case of memory loss, read the journal in your backpack*
Strange message but I didn't have any choice then to at least give the instructions a try. I removed my backpack and rummaged through it for the journal. I wouldn't really call it a backpack - more a tattered and frayed bundle of cloth that was reminiscent of a backpack. I finally found a series of small thick journals, bundled in cloth with their leather covers on the verge of disintegration. The pages still seemed in good condition though. Each cover was sequentially labelled which I'm guessing corresponded to the chronological order of the writings within.
The lady next to me was weirdly getting agitated. She kept stealing glances, her body shaking and eyes burning with a fierce rage. I slowly got up from the bench and began to step backwards. My backpack bumped into a pillar. The dull thud it made seemed to cause a drastic change to everyone around me though. They all snapped their heads, locking eyes on me and staring through my very soul. I felt exposed.
The rumble of an arriving train stole away their attention and within a split second everyone was ignoring me again, going back to their usual activities. It seriously felt like I had just imagined it and it was becoming more and more clear that I was having some sort of mental breakdown. Nevertheless, as the train slowed to a stop on the platform, I walked into it and found a seat. The train seemed to be old and new at the same time. Typical blue seats with abstract dirty patterns complete with a modern sleek interior of gentle curves clashing with a boxy dull metallic exterior and doors that looked like they belonged on a rusty submarine.
I opened the first of the journals and began to read. I soon realised that the handwriting was mine and within the next few moments I was attacked by a barrage of memories that had remained repressed and buried in the back of my mind.
*
My name is Jacob and I have been stuck here in this place called *The Limbo* for an eternity. When I say 'eternity', I don't mean it lightly. Back when I used to keep track I counted over 500 years through my wristwatch that never seemed to run out of battery. Now I know counting is meaningless. There have been periods like this where my mind falls into a deep trance and I lose my whole identity as I mindlessly wander in this place much like the entities that inhabit it. Occasional periods of lucidity breach this trance and then I find myself lost and confused. It's why I keep the journals with me. I think its some sort of psychological survival mechanism that human brains develop when faced with the infinite vastness of The Limbo.
Speaking of The Limbo, I've come to learn a few things about its nature through my stay here. Some of its been through people that I've come across (Yes others are also stuck here) and some has been through my own experiences. Perhaps the most important is the question of where I get my food and water. The answer is weird. I have never felt hungry or thirsty. The sensation of having cool water slide down my throat remains a memory so distant that it feels like the snippet of a childhood dream.
I guess the next natural topic about this place would be time. Through various experiences of mine (that you'll get to read about) and discussions with others, the leading theory of mine is that The Limbo exists outside of time itself. While I myself have fallen here sometime during 2001, I've met many others from various years like the 80s, 90s and even one recent fellow from 2043.
Most people in The Limbo eventually fall into a trance, withering away until they become one of the entities or become mere tools for them. It's probably naive but I keep going through this place with only two hopes. The first is to somehow get out of here at the right time point and see my son, who I never got to see. The second is to come out of this place and die so that I no longer have to live out the empty agony of eternity (I'll explain how you can't age or die in The Limbo later). Perhaps my hopes will dwindle as the centuries pile and I will become just like those who I look upon in pity now.
I am writing this consolidated diary of my experiences for several reasons. I'd like someone to know of my unending journey in this place. To be aware of the capacity of the human spirit to keep going in the worst of situations. I have never had a long term friend in The Limbo, but know that I consider you the reader a dear friend even if I never get to meet you because you will know my story. I'm also sharing this in hopes that there is more awareness of The Limbo. Perhaps the military and scientists can actually figure out what it is. Perhaps all of us can be brought home. Or maybe this can serve as a survival guide to those who may be unfortunate enough to fall through.
There are small holes in The Limbo. Most of them are barely large enough for a pinkie finger to fit in let alone a person, but sometimes I've come across one large enough for this journal to go through. I'm not sure what time or place these holes lead to, so the safe passage of this book into a person capable of reading it has about the same chances as me ever leaving this place.
The train I'm on supposedly leads to the edge of The Limbo, where the holes are large enough for humans to fit through. It's really more of a legend amongst the poor souls that are trapped here and I've followed trails and clues for a long time to even find this train.
There are only two ways this goes. Both outcomes would lead to you reading this book in your hands. I'll either find my way out of this hell or give up hope and slip this journal through a Hole. You will find my fate at the end.
I should stop rambling now though. It would be best to start at the very beginning.
*
I was rushing out of work in pure ecstasy. My wife had gone into labor while I was at work and been rushed to hospital. I needed to get there fast. People were glancing over at me over their cubicles in confusion as I packed up my work bag and rushed out to the elevators. I couldn't stop thinking about seeing my first son as the elevator made its way down. The elevator doors finally opened and I rushed out.
The ground entrance of the building I worked at, particularly near the lobby, is an intersection of various hallways. I was already walking to close to the wall when someone came rushing around the corner and bumped me right into the wall. I was only able to hear half their apology when I fell *through* the wall like it was just a holographic projection. In hindsight, I find it oddly funny how easy it is for a life to get ruined. Just when you think you've got it all, when everything is going smoothly, a small incident like that is enough to take it all away.
I found myself in a room that resembled a classroom. It looked as if someone who had never stepped inside a classroom was asked to imagine the space. Desks were arranged in messy uneven rows with the chairs facing various directions. The board at the front of the room was a seamless patchy mixture of both chalk and modern whiteboard and mounted way too low on the wall, nearly hugging the floor. A large teachers desk sat in the front of the room. The walls were filled with posters of absolute gibberish along with diagrams and pictures that seemed like they showed something tangible but no matter how close you looked you could never identify anything in the picture.
The initial confusion was replaced by an immense panic. My heart was drumming against my chest as I searched the room for a doorway to exit it. My mind was trying to rationalise the situation. I was trying to convince myself that this was just some old part of the building and I had fallen into a hallway instead of the wall.
I ran through the doorway at the far end of the room and found myself in a large hallway that seemed to extend forever in both directions. The walls were a muted grey and the floors were that typical dirty linoleum. Soon I would find out that the regularly spaced doorways on either side of the hall led to other nonsensical classrooms.
I ran down the hallway screaming for help in pure panic, which was a terrible mistake in hindsight. I stopped running down the hallway when I suddenly heard the distinct scratch of chalk against board. In this large empty space, the sound echoed and boomed. Since I was still refusing to buy in to the reality of the situation, my hopes were momentarily increased by the supposed presence of another person here.
I slowly walked over to the doorway that the sounds were coming from. My stomach filled with an uneasy dread. This deep primal instinct within me urged me to hold back. I peeked carefully in the classroom and saw a woman with their back turned to me drawing something on the chalkboard.
It took me a few moments to notice that it was a very realistic portrait of my face.
She was drawing lines across my throat, her long dark hair swaying as she drew in the details. The drawing was completed with a terrible slash across the throat, blood gurgling out. I was frozen in place, transfixed on the hauntingly beautiful realism of the picture.
She began to turn around slowly while humming a high pitched tune. To this day I can't describe the face I saw. It is still etched into my mind. A face full of so much hatred, so much anger that I don't think its possible for a human to make that face. It expressed an emotion beyond human understanding. No artist in the world could ever render the expression on the paper. No words could describe the pure fear that coursed through my veins as she stared at me and began to approach.
I turned around to run, only to realise that a bunch of school children had gathered around me. They were headless, the bleeding stumps dripping thick blood onto the floor in a rhythmic patter. Somehow they were laughing.
I shoved through the group and ran down the hallway. I wasn't sure where I was going. My whole world had shattered and now I was completely aimless in some nonsense dimension with horrors beyond imagination that wanted me dead.
*
The extract above is from this journal I found at the foot of a large tree on a hiking trail. It's a miracle that I spotted its faded leather cover given that it was almost buried under rotting leaves. I really don't know what to make of what I'm reading, so I'll be slowly transcribing bits of it in separate posts over the next few days.
I know this subreddit is good for this sort of stuff. I'd love if someone else could share anything they know about The Limbo. This whole journal feels like some sort of prank, but the words and memories within feel way too real.
I can't help but feel a connection to this story. My mum doesn't speak much of my Dad, who I know left before I was born. No one ever found out where he went.
I was born in 2001
X

(Side note: This is super long. Excuse any lousy spelling and punctuation.)
I was supposed to go out on a date with a co-worker Sergio but that didn't happen. My date was planned for the same day as my cousin Isabel's wedding day. I agreed to the date last Friday because I already knew I would not be attending Isabel's wedding. However, all that changed because my Family members were very upset and would not drop it. They didn't know my part of the story and they did not want to listen to it, they only knew Isabel's part which was an entire lie. Then they all decided that I was an a**hole and being 'overly dramatic' just from hearing her side. Overall it's a mess. I only went because I wanted the family to leave me alone. From all the drama and from Isabel running her mouth I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking I was still in pain. I know her invite was just to make her seem like the bigger person but I know it's all a fake. Now the reason I was not going to attend was because Isabel stole my boyfriend Anthony and is now getting married to him. Honestly, it's all insane to me because everything has happened so fast.
Back story. Back on 12/19, I came back home early in the morning about 2am(ish) from work (I work a night shift). From the outside, you'd notice that all lights were off inside, so I assumed that Anthony was not there and would most likely be back at the apartment packing up his stuff. I recently just bought this house and already had all my stuff there. I texted him, told him I left work early, and asked if he could come home, but I got no response. I assumed he was asleep. However, he is usually up and waiting for me, but since we have been moving his stuff, it's been tiring. I had decided to shower and then get ready and get some food because I didn't have the energy to dig through boxes for pans to cook something. I got out of the car and started heading towards the front door. As I approached the door, I could hear music and stuff that no person ever wanted to hear in the early morning. I froze, and my mind went blank. I started to unlock the door slowly and quietly. I turned on the light and saw Isabel and Anthony doing the nasty on the couch. I screamed and began to cry out of anger. They screamed as well, and Isabel fell off of Anthony when he pushed her off of him. He, of course, like any cheating person, would say, "It's not what It looks like." I didn't say much because I didn't know what to say; I was speechless. I told Anthony, "Get out." and told Isabel, "Get out. I don't understand how you could do this to me. Just get out." Both of them quickly grabbed their clothing and got dressed. Anthony tried to talk to me, but I wasn't listening. He tried to hug and apologize and kept telling me he was sorry and loved me. I just told him we were over and I could never forgive him and to leave. He started to cry and just stood there staring at me, then looked over at Isabel, giving her a pissed-off look. She was standing there glaring at me. I honestly was ready to throw hands with her because I was so pissed off and the same with him. I didn't want things to escalate; I didn't want to deal with cops or wake up my new neighbors. At this point, I just wanted to sleep. I had to repeat myself multiple times for them to leave my house. They both refused to go, so I did threaten to call the cops, and that's what got them out. Anthony walked out first and didn't say anything. Isabel started to walk out, but before she walked out the door, she told me something I will never forget. She told me, and I remember what she said exactly word for word. She told me,
"You ruin everything. You ruined my love life when you stole Anthony from me. I knew him first and loved him first. You just came and stole him from me, You should know better than to be stealing someone's boyfriend. I never did anything to you for you to do what you did. You don't know how much pain you put me through. Don't talk to me ever again. I never want to see you. I don't want you around me at all. I hate you so much because you f***ed up my life. Don't talk to me. I hope your epilepsy kills you because that would make me feel so much better. It would be best for you to not be around anymore. I wish we weren't related. I wish you were dead."
There were a few things I wanted to say to that, but the 'I hope your epilepsy kills you' threw me off and hurt me even more. She walked out, slamming my door behind her. Few things I want to get clear. One when I met Anthony I didn't know she was in love with him. Two, they were not dating when we met or got together; they said they were just friends. Three, she never told me how she felt about him. I don't understand why she didn't just say something because if she had said something when he asked me out, I would have told him "No." and said the reason why. And Four, I was never told anything about the so-called 'Pain' I put her through. When she told me not to talk to or be around her, I thought it was better that way because I didn't want to talk to or be around her.
Fast forward to 2/14, I'm sitting next to Sergio and I am showing him a video on Instagram. I got a message from Isabel which was weird cause we had not talked since the cheating happened. I ignored the message and continued to show the video. I didn't care about whatever it was she messaged about nor did I even want to open it. After the video was over I went in and deleted the message without looking at it. Then I got another one from Isabel. Those messages kept coming in until I went in and blocked her. I didn't block her before because she didn't bother me after everything that happened. After the blocking, I just continued to scroll through Instagram. I stopped on a post that was posted by my cousin Eliyana (She is Isabel's youngest sister.) She posted a few videos and photos with the caption reading 'Congratulations to my sister Isa and future brother-in-law Anthony on their engagement. You guys make a beautiful couple.' Scrolling through the pictures I saw a few of my family members in it, some of our mutual friends, and then of course Isabel and Anthony. I sat at the table kind of shocked but then again not really. I was only shocked because I found it surprising that they would get married so soon and I thought it was a little too fast. Then I reminded myself that they had known each other for a very long time so I guess it might make sense in their twisted minds but it's whatever. I proceeded on with my night since the bell had rung to go back to work.
Time skip to when I got out of work the next day 2/15 technically speaking. I stood outside my work building waiting for my friends to come out. I checked my phone because I had left it in my bag in the breakroom cubby-hole thingy. While checking the notifications I had seen I got missed calls and a bunch of text messages from the family. Then got an incoming call from my cousin Ryan (Isabel's oldest brother). I answered it but as soon as I answered my friends came out. I had to tell Ryan that I would call him when I got home because I was busy at work. I hung up on him but doing so he was trying to talk. I continued to talk to my friends. We stood outside the work building for a good 15 minutes or so to wait for the parking lot to clear. Everyone is so in a hurry to get home it's insane but understandable because it's early as f*** and everyone is tired. When most of the lot was cleared we started to go our separate ways. I had given Sergio are ride so he was with me. We started walking to my car and reflecting on how the rest of our shifts went after lunch. Once we got to my car I unlocked threw my phone on the seat and opened up the trunk. I started to throw my lunch box, backpack, and other stuff in the trunk while Sergio put all his stuff in the back seat and got in the car. My phone started ringing again and I told Sergio to answer it. Didn't know it was my cousin trying to call me again. When Sergio answered he didn't even get a word in because my cousin started talking saying... "Dude. I know you are busy and you are at work but I need to talk to you about Isa and I don't- who the f*** are you? where's my cousin?" Lol, I did not know it was a FaceTime call and for me, it was kind of funny. Sergio proceeded to tell my cousin I was doing something and for him to hold on. My cousin was trying to yell at Sergio asking who he was and other nonsense. I got in the car and Sergio handed me my phone and told him "You didn't tell me if was a FaceTime call. haha." He laughed and said "Dude I wasn't even paying attention. I just answered it." Then we both laughed and I got on the FaceTime call. Saw my cousin sitting with his Girlfriend but she wasn't paying attention she had her headset on and was playing a video game. "What's up?" I asked. He proceeded to spill all that went down at my cousin's party. He told me how she made a speech and practically dragged my name through the mud. He told me to ignore all messages, vm, voicemails, and other methods when it came to the family trying to contact me. I told him I didn't plan on viewing anything or hearing anything and I was not surprised she talked sh*t about me. I also told him I wouldn't have answered the phone if he called either because I didn't know if he took her side or not. He understood why I told him that but he also said he could tell that she was lying but he wanted to also get my side of the story. I told him I'd have to talk to him once I got home and I would call him back later. He agreed and apologized to Sergio because he thought he had stolen my phone or something.
Once I had gotten back home I called my cousin before I passed out. I explained to him what happened when I got home from work that day. Then told him what she said to me about my epilepsy and how that added to not wanting to be around her but mainly because she said she didn't want me around. I told him word for word about what she said. I gave him every detail he needed and I spoke the truth. Then he gave me the breakdown of the story she told the family. She told the family that we were not together anymore but we were just living together because of the bills and both our names being on the apartment lease. She also advised the family that she was staying at the apartment because she was moving in once I was out. She told the family that everything that happened was at the apartment and I did what I did was out of jealousy and because I was crazy. She claimed I was just being a bch and didn't like that I was being replaced because he dumped me. She said she did nothing wrong because we were already broken up. She claimed to have reached out to me to talk about what happened but when she called I answered and told her to fk off and that I said some other nasty things to her that 'broke her heart' because words like that aren't meant to be said to family. During her speech that she did, she talked so much sh*t about me and some of the family agreed but some of the other family didn't.
Ryan went into detail about a lot of things she said. He explained to me that from his perspective her story did not make any sense. I explained my side of the story to him and he said it made more sense to him about what happened. He believed me and told me which family members believed her side was confusing because they knew some details the other side didn't. For example, they knew I got a house and from their understanding, we were still together because of a video I posted to Facebook about being so happy we got a house together. Another thing was that Anthony tried to keep it a secret but he opened up his big mouth about wanting to propose to me soon after getting everything situated. Therefore one side knew and the other didn't and I don't understand how they didn't. Overall Ryan believed me and apologized for Isa's behavior even though he shouldn't because he's not Isa and he had nothing to do with what happened.
My relationship with Anthony wasn't exactly perfect because what relationship is? However, we hardly fought and always trusted each other. When we did fight it was over the little things like washing dishes, taking trash out, and other stuff. We talked things out like we should. I thought I could trust him. Now I feel like I can't trust anyone.
Fast forward to 4/3. Time had passed and it felt like it went by quickly but as time went on I let go of everything that happened and slowly started to get over Anthony. As time passed I started to have a thing for Sergio because he was such a sweet guy. We started to spend a lot more time together outside of work as well. I also had barely spoken to the family except a few like Ryan, My grandmother, my Uncle (My Grandma's youngest son), and some of my other cousins. I also had to explain my story to the mutual friends I shared with my cousin and some of those friends believed me and others didn't so to me it was a whatever kind of thing I was over it. It's like you either believe me or you don't the choice is yours. Anyway, I went to Grandmother's house before heading to work to drop off some groceries I had gotten her and to tell her she didn't have to worry about her phone and electricity bill. When I got there I went inside and saw Isabel and Anthony sitting at the table sharing a meal with my Grandma. Just said 'Hi' and then looked away from them and looked at Grandma. I told her what I needed to tell her then was going to leave. Before I could leave she told me to sit and eat. I told her I had to get to work. She didn't take no for an answer and I of course was not going to argue with her so I sucked it up and sat down. They were talking about the wedding and I sat there in silence. Them talking about the wedding didn't bother me it was the staring coming from Anthony that bothered me. I continued to eat and ignore it but I was thinking about Sergio the whole time. My phone started ringing so I looked to see who was calling and it was Sergio. I answered my phone and they all looked at me. Sergio just wanted to know if we were going to take something for lunch or just eat whatever was at the snack area at work. I told him I could pick up a pizza or something for us before heading to work. Then we ended the call. Grandma asked me who it was that called and I told her it was one of my co-workers. We didn't talk about him after that. Once I had finished eating I told my Grandma thank you and I was going to head to get that pizza and head to work. Before I could leave my cousin gets up and heads to the counter going through a bag. She pulled out a pink envelope that had my name written on it in cursive and then handed it to me. Then tells me.
"I don't want to fight anymore. I want you to come to the wedding. I'm sorry and I want you to be there and you can bring a plus one if you want. This fighting is stressful I love you very much. Of course, I know that you know what you did was uncalled-for childish but we can overlook that."
My thoughts went elsewhere and wanted to say something but I didn't want to say anything in front of my Grandma. My Grandma didn't want anything to do with what happened and she didn't know much. She said she could never choose between her Grandchildren. I knew my cousin's apology was a fake one. I knew because she gave me a dirty look and she got away with it because she was facing away from my Grandma while I was facing towards her. I was fighting the urge to slap or punch her. I was no longer mad about her stealing Anthony from her I was mad at the fact that she said it was my fault when it wasn't, she was still going with her lies.
I grabbed the invitation anyway. I told my Grandma bye and left. I headed to get the pizza and then went to work. After doing all that I finally got to work and was sitting in the parking lot. I was frustrated and wanted to punch something. I wanted to throw and burn the invitation but I got curious and opened it up. The wedding was set for 5/10 at 4 pm till whenever I guess. I already made the decision that I would not be attending. I tore the invitation up and then got out of my car. I grabbed my stuff and then walked toward the nearest trashcan and tossed the invitation inside. I continued with my day.
Now to the present(ish). Back on 5/2, I was at work having lunch with Sergio. I've spent a lot of time in and outside of work with him and he confessed his emotions towards me and I told him how much I liked him as well. He asked me out on a date on our day off which was last Friday (The day of my cousin's wedding.) I agreed of course and I forgot about that date being my cousin's wedding but it didn't matter because I wasn't planning on going anyway. So I agreed to the date and he told me it would be a surprise what we would do and I agreed and didn't mind. I was just so happy that I was going to be going on a date with him because I had fallen so hard for this guy.
From that point on throughout the week I was getting calls and messages from the family asking if I would be attending my cousin's wedding. They knew she had given me an invitation but she was telling the family she was not sure if I was going to go. Now at the point like I had put I had forgotten about it. I told them I would not be able to attend because I had an important thing going on that I could not miss. Then I was told I needed to stop being childish and move on. Also being told I just need to be happy for Isabel and Anthony and stop being bitter. I told them I was not bitter I just had something important going on and it was not a lie. They claimed I was lying. They of course told me there was nothing more important than family and I would regret not going. I wanted to ignore them so much but they kept contacting me from so many different numbers and creating fake accounts just to message me and stuff. They even came to my house. It was getting super irritating.
Ryan even came to the house before I headed to work. Now Ryan I don't mind because we of course are getting along. He showed up a few hours before I had to go to work. I let him in knowing he was going to talk to me about going to the wedding. Our conversation wasn't bad or anything. He just told me that I should go to the wedding so it could shut the family up and prove to them I was over the situation (In which he knew I was. He even knew about Sergio because I told him about him.). He told me just like everyone else to bring a plus one and recommended I bring Sergio. (Now I didn't tell him I was going to go on a date with Sergio and of course, had not told him it was on the day of the wedding.). He told me it would prove a point to the family and I would win the war. Which made me laugh when he said that.
I knew he had a point though. If I went it would possibly shut the family up. It would be so that I could care less about them being in a relationship. However scared at the same time because anything is possible with my family it could end up being bad or good something you'd never know. I didn't even know who I could bring as a plus one that would keep me sane because I was not comfortable bringing Sergio because I didn't think he would feel comfortable. Another thing was if I decided to go then I would have to cancel things with Sergio and I don't want to. My heart broke just thinking about canceling. But then I decided that I might just go to the wedding because like my cousin said it might shut up the family. I was just disappointed I would have to cancel my plans and I hope he wouldn't be mad at me. Sergio does know everything about what happened with my family though because I vented to him about everything.
When my cousin left and I got to work I texted him that I would go. I would go to just prove a point. I was not happy at all I felt so sad. I needed to find a way fast to tell Sergio that I was not going to be able to go on a date with him. I sat in my car and Sergio tapped on my window. I opened the door and let him in. He scared me to be honest because I was in my world at that point. We sat in my car until it was time to go in. In that time I managed to find the words to tell him what I needed to tell him. I even told him how sad I was about it but also told him I wanted my family to leave me alone and they were stressing me out. He understood and told me he could understand I was under a lot of stress. I had asked if we could reschedule for the day after. I was scared he was going to say no. However, what surprised me was he asked if he could escort me just to help me prove my point but mainly because he still wanted to spend time with me. I told him only if he wanted to and if he felt comfortable and he said yeah. I told him the time and all the other stuff he needed to know.
Now wedding day rolls around 5/10. We go together and stuff feels so awkward and I'm about to lose my mind from all the awkwardness. The only one that was chill was Sergio which made me feel a little better. The family acknowledged us and was happy that I came. The other side who was still giving me problems was of course surprised and of course, talking about me being there. I was holding Sergio's hand as we walked into the venue. I talked to some of my family and introduced Sergio to them. They of course asked questions like how we met, how long we've been dating, and everything else. We sat down at a table with Ryan and his Girlfriend. We talked amongst ourselves. I started to ease up and not care about my family staring. When Ryan got up to go dance with His Girlfriend it was just me and Sergio sitting and talking up until he asked me to dance to a slow song they were playing. I told him I don't dance but he got me to dance anyway. While slow dancing I noticed my family still staring at us. Specifically, the side that was mad at me. I focused on Sergio as we danced and talked. We were laughing while dancing because I am a horrible dancer. When he spun me around I saw my cousin dancing with Anthony but as they were dancing their attention was on us the whole time. Once the song was over we went straight to the table. We honestly spent most of the night at the table talking. That was something I didn't mind because I love the times when we just sit and talk. Some of my family had come up to us and talked to us and I of course introduced Sergio to them. The night itself wasn't too bad we just kept to ourselves we only got up a few times from the table. We had left earlier than everyone else because I had proven my point and I just wanted to be alone with him and not spend so much time around the family. I said goodbye to the ones I do get along with.
Now for yesterday. Since Friday I've been continuing to get nasty messages. I swear I cannot win with my family. They told me I was being a hoe and being rude for bringing the guy that I cheated on Anthony with. I was told that I was stealing the spotlight from my cousin by bringing a more attractive guy than Anthony as my plus-one (Now that one made me laugh because I agree Sergio is more attractive but like I just found it funny that they said that because how is that even a thing?). They told me I was being petty. Told me that I embarrassed myself by coming. Told me I looked horrible. Was told that my cousin is upset I stole the spotlight from her and I did it on purpose. I was told I shouldn't have brought him with me because it was unnecessary and I was just trying to get attention. Then advised it was an a**hole move and if it was a stunt I was gonna pull I shouldn't have gone. That's just a few things that were said there was so much more.
I do not understand how I stole the spotlight or anything at all. I went and didn't do anything. I had one dance with Sergio and we stayed at the table talking. We talked to some of the family and that is all. They make it seem like I went and did something to my cousin. AITA?

A few years ago, I had a job that required me to sign stacks of documents. My boomer boss insisted this be done manually, even though DocuSign existed. She just didn’t understand the idea of electronic signatures. So each Friday I’d sit down and sign my name over and over.
One day she is standing over my shoulder as I’m signing and she freaks out. “Wait a minute, what are you doing? You’re signing your last name wrong!”
I stopped. “What do you mean?”
“That’s not how you write an ‘L’ in cursive,” she said. “You need to learn how to write properly in cursive.”
“This is how I write my ‘L’,” I said.
She then proceeded to Google a cursive “L” and told me I needed to include the top and bottom loop, or my signature wouldn’t be legal.
I pulled out my drivers license and showed her my legal signature, and she shook her head. “They never should have allowed you to get away with that,” she said like I was committing some sort of crime.
What is their obsession with cursive?

I'm helping to care for a relative, age 76, who has been on disability for over thirty years. I'm her sole heir. She has created a hand-written will, as in "last will and testament." She wrote it in "cursive" and the text of it reads as follows:
February 6, 2015
I, Her Name, hereby appoint my cousin, My Name, as independent executor of my entire estate to serve without bond.
I leave my entire estate to my cousin, My Name.
This is my holographic will. This has been done in accordance with the laws of the State of Texas.
"Signed Her Name"
February 6, 2015
My question is, after she has passed away, how readily will the legal system accept this will? Are they going to want some kind of proof that it was in fact she who wrote it? I'm debating getting a "real" will made. The only two things she owns that have any significant value are a house that is paid for, and three cemetery-plots. She has no siblings, no children, no nieces or nephews; both of her parents are dead. She does have other cousins. They know I'm helping to take care of her and I'm reasonably certain that they wouldn't contest the will.
I've spoken with an attorney I've done business with about getting a "real" will made. He said it would take 8-10 hours at $350 an hour. Given how straight forward and uncomplicated the situation is, that seems excessive. Surely, he has a "boiler-plated" will that's mainly just fill-in-the-blank. "A penny for your thoughts," fellow Redditors. Thanks.

I received many compliments from friends and acquaintances. But I’m still self-conscious about my writing and the basic rules of the language. Please take a look you do not have to subscribe the
The Ouija Revelation by Blake West
I was raised Mormon and most of my family are still active members. I am not; I have always been the black sheep of the family. I was a good kid by most standards, but until recently I have not felt as though I can be myself when I am in their company. For example, my uncle once sat me down and said: "I don’t want you to change anything about yourself-- but please go be yourself over there. I will be here and you can be you over there." He caught me vaping when he reviewed the surveillance footage at his warehouse. I laugh about it now, and even at the time he said this I found it to be funny. I can be a lot to deal with; I mean, I live alone and I hate my roommate. My family is conservative. My grandmother told each man who was to marry into the West family that vasectomies were not permitted. Today this sentiment is a part of the family crest, next to a vaccine syringe with a red "X" over it. The West family were anti-vaxxers before it wasn't cool. As a matter of fact, I have never been vaccinated, other than one tetanus shot when I was ten-years old. I am not taking any kind of stand, I just wasn’t vaccinated, for anything. I am in relatively good health today and I have been fortunate in this regard. My maladies are of a cerebral variety. I will say that I do not believe that vaccines cause autism as some do. Especially considering the fact that I was not on the spectrum until Dr. TikTok made the diagnosis.
My family is so conservative they only pass food to the right at the dinner table. My father once saw a same-sex couple holding hands in Home Depot and he now refuses to shop there and refers to it now as "Homo Depot." My family is so conservative that my mother recently flew to Washington DC on a Wednesday to meet some friends. In addition to being conservative, my family is for the most part still indoctrinated by the Mormon church; fully bought-in. My "birds and bees" talk came at the hands of a counselor employed by LDS family services, so there were some gaps needing to be filled, to say the least. I had no clue as to what courtship was supposed to look like. I was homeschooled in ninth grade. Every morning, I had to attend seminary at Butler Middle School and I rode my bicycle home afterward, which served as my P.E. credit. It was this seminary class in which I met my biggest high school crush, Mary. I was fascinated by her immediately, she was different. She was petite, had blonde hair, blue eyes and the brightest smile I had ever seen. Mary was affable and had a sharp wit, above all she was kind-hearted. On the last day of that school year, in my piss-yellow DC Shoes hoodie and my new pair of skate shoes, I raised the courage and I asked her for her phone number. She wrote her number on my hand before she walked back to the school's main building. I was elated as I rode home that day. Mary and I became fast friends, until my parents caught wind. I was not 16, which is the age Church deems the appropriate age to date; or even interact with the opposite sex outside of Sunday school. I could only talk to her if she called me and occasionally my parents would let me return a message if she left one. One evening while we were talking she mentioned that she didn’t have a date for the homecoming dance. Consequences be damned, I asked her to go with me and she said yes. Luckily my mother allowed me to take her since it was a group of four. She wore a maroon and black dress. I wore a black suit and shirt to match the color of her gown, by coincidence. I hadn't learned what she would be wearing until I bought the corsage. Picture this: a socially awkward, clumsy teenager learning to square-dance on the fly. I kept stepping on her heels and gown as she tried to teach me the movement. Slow-dancing was really just waddling around in circles with very little eye contact. I was doing everything in my power to avoid staring down her shirt as we swayed right-to-left with her arms on my shoulders. To this point it was the most attention I had received from the opposite sex and also the same night I understood the versatility of my boxer's waistband. After the dance we went to see a movie. I had pulled a fast one-- I thought. I wanted to see a rated-R movie and I knew that they wouldn't sell me the tickets at the theater. So I bought them online and my mom let me use her credit card and when we get to the theater, I told mom that she had to pick up the tickets at the window because it was her credit card and we would get our snacks while she did. Tickets and popcorn in hand we walked to the usher and just as we did, we were met by the manager. I underestimated my mom-- but she didn’t want to dress me down in front of my date. She noticed the rating on Freddy Got Fingered was R and she told the theater employees to not let us into the movie we bought tickets for. I don't remember which movie we saw instead, I think it was Bubble Boy. I tried arguing my point with the manager, that my mother had purchased the tickets for us and by doing so should have acted as consent in lieu of parental-guidance, but he would not budge. But he did say if we were to wander into Freddy Got Fingered after Bubble Boy concluded we could catch the last half hour of that showing. Mom 234 - Blake 0. After the movie, my mom picked us up and dropped the other kids home without mentioning a word about my insubordinate behavior. I didn’t so much as hold Mary's hand that night. As I write this now I am overcome with "cringe" as the kids say. Mary had a boyfriend throughout most of high school, but her and I remained friends. She would smile and wave at me every time we crossed paths in the hallway, usually with her boyfriend Kurt's arm around her as she was walking to her next class. Kurt had everything I thought. He had a WRX, he was athletic, a talented artist, handsome and of course Mary. I was the fat, awkward, WWF watching, home-schooled kid who dressed in black concert t-shirts and carried around a backpack covered in metallic ink. I could only look down on Kurt because I was taller. Fast-forward to senior year, 2003-04. Mary and Kurt were on the outs and he was not going to take her to homecoming. But this time, instead of asking her on the phone I was going to do something memorable. Well, I remember it. I borrowed my mother's best stationary and wrote on it with my distinctive and elegant cursive "meet me here after school." thinking that it would be a surprise to her. I bought the finest roses I could find from Dan's supermarket and I brought them to her as she was standing at her locker with our mutual friend Nadya and I asked her if she would go to homecoming with me. With a look of obligation rather than excitement, she accepted. She already knew I wasn’t going to make a move and I hadn't learned how to square dance either. Side note: women of all ages do not give a fuck about excellent penmanship. The dance was still a few weeks away and in this time I started going to the gym every morning at 5:00 before school. Mostly because it was when Mary went and I saw this as an opportunity to get closer to her. In the short time that I had been going I had lost a noticeable amount of weight. Mary, Nadya and I started spending more time together and the Saturday before the dance, the three of us were at Nadya's house planning the following week's activities. One of the girls suggested we play a game and Out came the Ouija board. My mother warned me against dabbling in the dark arts; despite her love for the Harry Potter series. I participated nervously as Mary and Nadya called upon the nearest available entity. We started asking Pauley Purgatory the standard questions: "are you a good spirit or bad? Do you know my deceased friend?" and so on. Then Nadya asked the question "is Blake a virgin?" and in his infinite post-mortal bro-code wisdom, Pauley answered "no… except on Sundays." I was stunned and ashamed, because I had not told anyone, especially my biggest crush that Sundays were the only day of the week in which I did not engage in my regular self-care routine, if you catch my drift. Mary then asked "is Blake ever going to get married" and the curser moved to answer yes. Because I was such a smooth-operator I asked the next question "to someone I know?" and the cursor again moved to answer yes and I immediately locked eyes with Mary, then I quickly shifted my gaze to Nadya before looking back to the board. Then our new acquaintance had to take another call and we ended our session. The next week we go to the dance in a group of six and it went about as well as you could have expected taking into account previous context. At one point during the evening, Mary even had to ask me to sit next to her on the couch because my attention was consumed by a Seinfeld rerun as I sat on a beanbag on the floor in front of her. As a parenthetical note, even today I am not a ladies man. Despite my broad-shouldered, 6'1'' frame and confident, bearded-Viking like resemblance, I find myself awash with shame instinctively whenever I have thoughts of pursuing a woman I like. The LDS doctrine is so ingrained into my DNA, I cannot help but feel that wanting to fuck the Christ out of someone is wrong, despite my terrestrial knowledge telling me that it is natural. Whenever I think that I have found someone worthy of my "Melchize-dick" I split the difference and I say nothing. Do nothing. In 2003 I was even more of an insecure mess, if that is possible. I couldn’t even take my shirt off in the locker room let alone the opposite sex. A week later I had scheduled an appointment to chat with my bishop about some things that had been on my mind. After the normal small talk I begin by telling him that I was recently in a basement alone with two young women and I noticed his posture and glare became more focused. I continue by telling him that with these girls we summoned a dark spirit and it had said things about me which I had not told anyone. With a sort of disappointed look on his face now, he then related to me by telling me about a time he had gone to a psychic and experienced something similar. He concluded our visit by asking me if I had been "keeping the temple clean." Of course I lied and told him I was not “holding to the rod-- the iron rod” (there really are a lot of masturbation euphemisms from the hymn book). I also did not tell him what my new friend Pauley Purgatory had said though, only that it was something I had not told anyone. 18 years later when I was making a delivery on the same street Nadya lived on in high school, it hit me. Recently I watched a video on social media about ADHD issues and how it is commonplace for the afflicted to repeatedly tell the same story, as well as be unaware of certain things they have shared with others in conversation as a defense mechanism. I then recalled a memory of an annoyed co-worker saying to me "you say that every time" when I would share my association with Mrs. Field's Cookies anytime the name was mentioned as a perspective client. I went to one year of private school with Mrs. Field's daughter; true story. Then it hit me-- I had to have forgotten that I told Mary that I "kept the Sabbath day holy" and this was her way of telling me it was okay to make a move, without telling me. I was so sheltered and indoctrinated that I actually believed a spirit-in-limbo made a dick joke and I ran to confess my sin of my meddling in the dark arts to my bishop. And because I was vague with the details and I lied about "leaning upon my ample arm" my bishop was not able to say "she's trying to tell you something, you fucking idiot! She likes you." I like to think that he would have done me that courtesy, he was actually a good guy. As I look back, Mary tried everything and I now know what that look she used to give me meant. That "how are you not getting this, you big, dumb fuck?" look. She even tried to sacrifice a virgin when she set me up with my first girlfriend. Once I finally realized what had happened I had to shout the thought out of my head as the blood left my face. Driving alone in Cottonwood Heights, Utah I said aloud: "Goddammit” with a Baroque-like rhythm. The moral of the story, kids: don't lie to your bishop about taking care of your needs. Unless you want something to write about later. Shame begats shame begats the socially awkward. Thanks for reading. -Blake

Mini serial up in my head for a while. Writing after 10 years pause, please go easy on me. No hfy yet, just setting things up.
........................
Looking up towards the orbital ring, through dirty plexiglass roofing, James wipes his forehead and furrowed his eyebrows. The ring, known to the local as Halo Station due to the yellow sun glinting off of it when the angle is right, was an ugly strip of brutalist sunshade in James's opinion. It had been hastily constructed over the course of five years with government of private fundings, with the local bureaucrats and politicians the most well off from the scheme. The locals, third generation from the initial colonisers, had been opposed to government postings from the hub worlds but was strong armed by the mining and agriculture conglomerate to accept it. There were of course altercation between the locals and the conglomerate but anything larger than a demonstration were heavily suppressed with threats of cutting off vital terraforming supplies. The uneasy tension lasted until the ring orbital proposal was announced, with the locals divided in two camps. One was in favour, their thinking was that the station would bring attention of the wider human communities to their plights. The opposing view is that it would only bring more corporate interest to their system, with the oppressions and wealth discrimination that their forefathers escaped from to this new world in the first place.
James was of neither the opinions. He was planning on hitchhiking across the frontier worlds, edges of the explored galaxy, relying on his knowledge and skill of hydroponics to earn his living. He empathise with the locals, as he was ine himself, but knew that corporate greeds is as inescapable as taxes and death. The only thing keeping him from despairing the future was the tiny sum his family saved up. He wasrecently orphaned, but his parents were rather well off when they were alive, working on the water treatment plants of the terraforming complex, before an influx of dissolved salts from a hydrothermal vents eruption caused a chlorine gas build up, leading to an explosion when they were doing maintenance on the gas extraction chamber. James was thankful that at least his parents passed away painlessly, but the funeral arrangements had cut into the family funds. It was due to this that he was still stuck on the half terraformed planet.
"Penny for your thought?" asked a hoarse gravelly voice. One would be forgiven for thinking the owner of the voice a male. A frail looking woman with grey hair peered up at James from behind a trellis supporting vines of red pod peas. "Counting down the days the merchant trader will pick me off this pile of dirt," James replied, "Not that I don't see why you would want to stay here." "Can't get the theiving bastards to give me my insurance money otherwise." The woman scowled. " Speaking about that, how's the surgery going? Inhaling that much chlorine would put anyone out of action, not that I'm not thankful for pulling my parents out of there. The company would've let them dissolved if they had their way." James asked the woman. "Well, the off world volunteer doctors bumped me up cue and if lady luck don't interfere, I'll be fully recovered by the end of the local year." she replied with a chuckle then a cough. The planet they are on has a 22 hours day but 976 days per year. This has made the locals used phrase 'end of the year' as a joke for deliberately slow bureaucracy, especially when the government is the one paying. Elisabeth was working with his parents when the accident occured, a toilet break saving her from the experience. She was trained as a first reponder and had taken it up on herself to at least recover the remains of her colleague and friend. Either due to cost cutting or by sheer incompetence, the recently cleared hazmat suit she took from the emergency storage had a leaking hose and she had barely survived. James was grateful for her action and offered her a job in his mostly automated hydroponic farm as she waits for the company to pay her insurance as she can no longer do heavy manual labour. James was going to transfer all his business to her as thanks when he got off planet but had told her yet. "I hope you recover fully," James smiled at the not bad news, "I'm going to give you this farm and the house after I leave. You've been a good friend to the family and I'd to see you suffer because of a good deed." Elisabeth looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded, realising that James was resolved. "I have no need for more money than what I need to survive, I'll send any profits left from the farm to you. You'll need it if you're going to gallavanting around the galaxy." Elisabeth said with a firm tone, or slightly deeper and hoarser to James's ear. "It'll also be somewhere to return to if the galaxy doesn't agree with you. A journey isn't complete if you haven't return and all that." she added. James was expecting this and knows that she won't change her mind. "I'll drop by with souvenirs whenever I come near this part." James said. The rest of the day went by as usual. As James finished checking the monitoring terminal in preparation for the night, a message popped up on his iris implant. He checked the message as he exited the decontamination airlock:
Dear James,
I hope this finds you well. I hate to impose on paying customers but a good friend of mine needs somewhere hole up for a few days on your planet. He has his own ship and offered to take you anywhere you wish after he finished offloading his cargo to the orbital. I have given him your contacts and attached his along with his headscan. I am terribly sorry for taking liberties but I hope you find this a good deal.
Sincerely,
Cpt. Frank Rowe
James was surprised but didn't mind it that much as he had empty rooms and he'll save some money. He quickly went into his sonic shower booth and tapped off a reply to the captain and his guest. He was preparing to cook some of the ripe tomatoes and eggplants he harvested today when Elisabeth came out of her room. He had asked her to moved into his guest bedroom when she started working on his farm and they had been having meals together since. It helped the make the house more lively and Elisabeth liked his cooking. "I don't know if it's the fresh produce or your cooking that make something mundane taste this god." Elisabeth said in between bites, "Either way, I'll miss this when you go. I'll have to remember to scan this into the automeal." "It'll be close but the Dad's recipe needs more dressing oil and salt than the standard automeal will allow. It won't be too unhealthy if you work and sweat enough for two people." James grinned, "My parents always debated this over dinner." "That reminds me about the workload. I will have to automate the fish feeder, my lungs are about done by the time I finished checking the fruit bins," Elisabeth said. "I'll dial in the settings tomorrow, you'll only need to top up pellets." replied James.
That night James got a reply from the guest confirming he will take up the offer. The guest will arrive in two days and James planned to offer his own room. He had not touched his parents bedroom since the accident and he is going to tidy up the room as a farewell. He did not look forward to spending a night in the room but he knows he will regret not doing something to mark off the end of his stay in this house.
On the day of the arrival, James woke up and looked at himself in the mirror. His curly brown hair that he got from his mother was growing out past his liking, along with the light stubble he put off shaving due to being busy setting up the farm for a one person operation. His grey eyes was sparkling and lively, despite waking up an hour before his usual time. He was excited since he will be departing tomorrow and had finished packing last night. After confirming with Elisabeth that everything is working fine in the farm, he left her to get used to the new routine to prepare lunch. A flying taxi touched down as he fished out a large pizza from the oven. He wiped his hands and went to greet his ticket off the planet. A short stocky man climbed down, his skin, where visible was deeply tan, highly unusual for a ship captain travelling long journey through deep space. His dark hair fluttered in the wind and brown piercing eyes take in the rural sight. His glance fell on James and smiled a toothy grin. "You must be the owner of this lovely estate!" he bellowed out with a thick accent James can't place. James walked up to him, offered his hand, and they shook. "James Howard, looking forward to getting on your ship." James replied, a bit put off by the excitement from the man. "Miguel, Miguel Emille. Captain of the Flying Snail. I am very thankful for your hospitality at such short notice. The corpo here kicks the captain off their ship! Imagine that!" James looked around for security drones, a bit fearful of being reported for sedition. The captain looked at him, confused, then in understanding, "Ah, one of those world? Say no more. I won't put my passenger in danger." "Is it not the same where you are from? That's why I'm trying to get off the planet." James asked. "No, I grew up and works mainly for the frontier colony. This one is a special favour for the captain that you contacted for a lift. Contract for some heavy metal isotopes from one of the asteroid mining station for one of your 'esteemed' governer." Miguel winked.
The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, with Miguel switching between telling news of the outer colonies and checking his ship's security cameras. The next morning, James and Elisabeth had a tearful farewell before heading off towards one of the pillar supporting the orbital that doubled as cargo elevator. As they rise, James takes a look at the purple and green landscape falling below. He could see the curvature of the planet right as they enter the orbital. He took a picture of his homeworld, intending to put into his journal to mark the start of his journey. The maglev took them towards the internal docking area, James looking out then windows at the opulence of the wealthy living in the station. As they walk towards the flying snail, they were jossled around wnd forced to stop a few times by the workers and machineries bustling around the dock. James took in the sight of the Flying Snail as they approached, staring at the size and unusual roundedness of the ship, in contrast to the blocky and angular ships standard for most space vehicles. "Custom made on Mariana IX station, designed by my grandfather. A great advertisement for my business and comfortable quarters too. And not as slow as the name suggests" Miguel said as he looked at not a few workers staring at his ship. The advertisement mentioned was stencilled in bright red cursive letters on bare metal, in contrast to the ship's black blocky registration number. As they made their way to airlock, passing the the ship's closing cargo door, an inspector passed Miguel a datapad to sign off. "Cargo confirmed received, payments are being processed by customs due to the new tax coming into effect yesterday. You shouldn't lose much with the currency exchange," the inspector said after looking the form over, " you are clear to depart when traffic control indicates." The inspector turn to another ship busy loading cargo, not waiting for a reply. Miguel lead James through the airlock to his room, a larger than standard room furnished with wooden furniture and upholstered, unheard of in a spaceship from the hub worlds. "Get yourself comfortable then join me on the bridge. The ship AI will help you with the layout. No need to address me as captain since it'll only be the two of us until your destination. I'll be going around looking for government approved bugs. Corporate overlords never can get the idea of privacy." Miguel said before leaving James to unpack. James look around the room, trying to wrap his head around the decor. It was as if someone stole a museum exhibit then use it to furnish a spaceship. He unpacked his luggage, looking around for a storage locker, before putting his meager clothings into a dark wood wardrobe. He then set off to put his toiletries in the attached bathroom before being shocked at the size and items he saw. A large oval mirror hangs on the wall above porcelain basin, with an archaic brass and glass shower cubicle with valves and pipes off to the side. He consdered the logistics of internal plumbing and water storage on the ship for a moment before shaking his head, "Might as well enjoy the luxuries. If this isn't a great start, I don't know what is."
After he finished, James head out of his room then froze as he peered into the corridor. The sterile white panelling had turned into stained wood, the harsh lighting into warm yellow glow from what looks like wall mounted lamps. He turned to look back at his room to see the standard white panelling was still there. He decided to ask the AI for directions to the Captain, "Ship? Where's the bridge?" "Please find the ship map in the mailbox behind the door," a synthetic female voice chimed out. He looked at the automatic sliding door and noticed it had changed to a wooden hinged door with a basket below a metal slot. He grabbed a rolled up brown paper bundle from the basket, unrolling it to seems to be hand drawn diagram of the ship. Other details such as crew members list and meal times are neatly list in one corner. He closed the door before following the map. He was not surprised to find his name engraved below the room number on the brass plaque on the door.
James was apprehensive about finding anything on the ship but there were signs jutting out from the wall at each intersection, surrounded by decorative metalwork in forms of flowers, pointing to major locations. The flooring hard changed from patterned wood to being carpeted the closer he is to the bridge. He finally arrived at a double door, with a plaque indicating that it was indeed the bridge, and he wondered if he should knock. He decided not to, and swung open, to hear a bell ring as the door opens. "James! Come strap yourself in. How do you like my ship?" Miguel was seated on what looks like a couch in the centre of the room, looking at a large screen. The screen shows the outside of the ship, which was the landing bay blast door, still shut. "It's nice but too much like a museum piece to be flying around," James responded, "Isn't it against regulation and too hazardous if the grav generator fails?" "That's why I set the nanites to change to standard whenever I dock. Changed back to what my grandpa designed when we're clear for take off," Miguel answered, " also cleared out to bare walls with carpeting whenever there's an emergency. Only ever happens once in all my years of flying." James had heard of nanites but wasn't aware that it could be used on ships. "The ship was supposed to be a private cruiser for a hubworlder, but he backed out of deal so the swimming pool and hydrotherapy areas was converted into the cargo hold," Miguel added.
James strapped himself in a plush fabric covered armchair near the screen. As he figured out the buckle, the comm beeped then a voice called out, " landing bay E42 cleared. All ships ensure airlock and cargo door are closed before depressurisation in 15 minutes." "Hal, check the doors and prepare for take off," Miguel said. "Sorry captain, I cannot do that." "Stops scaring the passengers. Maybe it's time you watch some modern movies." A huff sounded before the AI replied, "Aye aye, Captain." "She always does that, scaring the living daylight out of my last crew when she pretended to lock the airlock during EVA," Miguel sighed, " i don't know what my Pa was doing, feeding her all that old robot uprising movies." "I thought she was just a basic navigation AI when I asked her for directions." "Yeah, she does that to make people let their guards down before springing the 'Exterminate!' stuff on them. That's why my last crews all signed off." "Isn't that bad on you?" James asked, "also your reputation won't be good." " It's fine, I mainly take on crews for company. Most contracts I got are from fellow captains needing to take orders from regulars but are to far out to accept. She got the latest repair drones and all nanites tech to take care of all damages, excluding only jump core explosions," Miguel smiled.
They waited in the bridge, chatting about life in space and homicidal AI, with Hal, James learned shortened from Haley and pronunciation changed courtesy of the AI herself, chiming in when the checks are done. "Landing bay E42 depressurised in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Landing bay depressurised. All ships clear to take off in E42 once landing bay door fully opened. Green light will light up when ready for manually piloted crafts. Halo orbital thanks you for your business." The traffic controller speaks through the comm, indicating he is a native. Off-worlder would usually call the station 'The Regina's Ring' after the planet. Once the door slides open fully, ships start to go out in rows. When it was the Flying Snail's turn to take off, a hologram of Hal appeared besides the captain's couch and the ship starts to move out slowly in formation, coordinating with the other ships. Once the Flying Snail cleared the door, Hal spoke, "Captain, there's any energy spike reading in the aft sensor. No details on origin available due to station's plating. Seems to be mostly neutrons" "Perhaps someone forgot to shut their cargo door. Probably transporting tritium or helium three. Put up shield just to be safe."
The captain's decision turns out to be just in time as a heavy blast blew the ships out of the orbital. Alarms started wailing and James was pushed back into his seat. "Damage report!" Miguel shouted over the alarms and a diagram of the ship's system popped up on screen. "No structural damage, low EMP, main computer rebooting, shields down to 60 percent," Hal replied mechanically, "Reboot complete. Putting rear view on screen." The screen shows a large explosion on the inner ring side, dropping debris onto the planet below. The alarms turned off as Hal reports, "Ring appears to be holding. Debris calculated to fall on low population area and ocean. Minimal damage to civilians and properties." " There's that at least. Are we expected to help?" Miguel asked. "Negative, the station order civilian vessels to clear the area. No detention order." "Good, get us to the jump point. James, you got a destination?" Miguel turns to look at James. James was still trying to recover from being slammed into his seat, saved from concussions by the seat's padding. "I need to check on Elisabeth," James said as he reached for his wristcom. He then saw an incoming video call from Elisabeth. He sighed in relief as he picked up the call. "I'm glad you're alright. Exciting starts to your trip, eh?" Elisabeth said after seeing James. "Good to see you unharmed too. Did the emergency broadcast says anything?" James asked. "They were saying no damage to those living below. The corporate news network was saying it was the work of the anti-hub government groups." Elisabeth said with a grimace, "trying to weasel out of responsibility if you ask me. I need to check the farm systems in case anything went down. Safe trip out there, I don't want to cry for the second time today," Elisabeth was starting to tear up as James tried to reply before the call cut off. "All's well that ends well," Miguel said as James gathered himself, "good to see her safe. So, destination?" James thought for a moment then replied, "I've never been anywhere further than the Halo. I was thinking of getting off at the last stops but I'm the only passenger here so I think I'll get off wherever your next business ends." " Fine by me. I'm going back three system on my route here, pick up some cargo and or crews, then out to the frontiers," miguel said to James then turn to Hal, " You remembered the station with extra medical supplies looking for buyers? Set destination there." " Aye captain. Arriving at jump point. Jumping in 5 seconds," Hal said before starting the count down. The jump drive, the second most popular after warp, generates a wormhole from Lagrange points. The energy requirements is higher than warp but the near instantaneous travel time is highly value by merchants and diplomats alike.
The jump starts without a hitch and they exited into a red dwarf system. As they make they way towards a spherical station above a green gas giants, they were hailed on all frequencies as the screen starts to shows an armada of black pyramids blockading ships trying to enter and leave the station. The screen suddenly flickers then shows a black upside down triangle with glowing blueish white lights runni ng on its surface. The speakers blared out a high pitch voice, " Bags of mostly water our flattest desire exchange thinking patterns. Flattest yours here deliver. Airwaves produce expect agreement." This broadcast then repeats itself. "Ain't this the strangest day of my life," Hal said loudly. "Exciting first day for our passenger here for sure," Miguel added. James just stared blankly at the screens.
.......................

This is a rewrite for Kizana and Tsuruzo.
Some the suitors will have their background changed cuz Pedodev fucked them up as always.
Osana and Kyuji's Matchmake Rewrite
Amai and Shoku's Matchmake Rewrite
—
“Salutations my future star! I'm sure you're here to beg the one and only Kizana Sunobu to join the Drama Club! Don't you worry dear, I lead you right to her–”Tsuruzo stared at Ayano when she interrupted him,”I'm not here to join the Drama Club, Yamazaki-san”
“Oh?”
“I'm here to speak with you. It's something personal.”
Tsuruzo gasped, placing his hand on his chest,”Personal?! Have I angered a beast in the school? How naive of me! Speak to me, my future star, who is this beast I have angered? I shall apologize immediately!”He examined. Ayano shook her head in response,”You haven't angered anyone, Yamazaki-san. It's about your feelings towards your leader.”
“My feelings? Ah! Yes. My dearing love for Kizana Sunobu. I suppose my actions haven't hidden my love for Sunobu-san very well. How disappointing.”He signed deeply. Ayano mentally rolled her eyes before continuing,”I'm here to help you win her heart.”
Tsuruzo stared at Ayano with a blank expression on his face before laughing out loud,”Haha! Aishi-san! You have always found ways to make my day much brighter! I appreciate your offer of helping me win Kizana's heart, but I can't accept it! As you can see, Sunobu-san has been busy perfecting the Romeo and Juliet play. Lately, she's been spending a lot of her time with Yamada-san! He is one of the main leads in the play! He must be perfect! She has been shining as bright as a star since the moment Yamada-san came! I would never dare to ruin that brightness over my dear love for her!”
“Wouldn't you want her to see you the way she sees Yamada-san? Imagine the future you two will have together. The most famous actors together, and traveling the world as the power couple you two will be. Isn't that a nice thought?”Ayano suggested. Tsuruzo remained quiet as his eyes glanced down at the ground before looking over at Kizana practicing on stage with Taro,”I've always loved the idea of seeing Sunobu-san succeed just like her parents. One day, I can witness her being an amazing and talented actor that everyone loves for how passionate she is. However, I don't think she sees me the same way I see her. There's so many stories where the second male always suffers for a love that they can't have in the end. It's heartbreaking.”
Ayano placed her hand on his shoulder as Tsuruzo glanced over,”Don't worry, I will help you win her heart. I'll make sure that everything goes well and see how an amazing guy you are, Yamazaki-san. You two will be perfect together. She trusts you more than anyone in the club. You just need to follow my lead.”
“Your lead?”
“Mhm. I will be helping you with the dates you will take Kizana to and make sure everything doesn't go downhill.”
Tsuruzo stared at Ayano with unsureness before determination took over his face,”I'll follow your lead, my future star! Tell me what to do and I'll do it! I shall win Sunobu-san's heart and show her my love!”
—
Monday → Play In Town
Tsuruzo takes Kizana out on a date to a play that will take place in a theater in the town. The play was made by a famous writer and actor who has been famous for its story, the meaning behind it, and the wording. In addition to that, how gorgeous the wardrobe is.
Tsuruzo managed to get the seats that made the perfect view of the stage. It's something nice for them both to enjoy and express their feelings towards it.
Afterward, they would go somewhere to eat, talk about the play, and get to know each other. Something simple.
—
Tuesday → Under the Moonlight
Tsuruzo takes Kizana out on a date in a town where there's many stores for them to enjoy, music, foods, and a nice view of the ocean. During this date, the two get to know each other again and get closer physically. This is the time when they would hold hands for the first time because later on in their date, Tsuruzo would invite Kizana to dance to the soft music playing.
The two will be dancing under the moonlight (Chessy af) ,enjoying their company and letting their body feel the music. Kizana finds it quite romantic since it does remind her of a romance movie that her parents were in as the main couple. There was a scene exactly like the one she's experiencing right now. With Kizana loving the dancing, she would rest her head on Tsuruzo's shoulder as Tsuruzo would hold her close while they danced.
It's quite adorable to picture in my head.
—
Wednesday → Shoku's Restaurant
Kizana and Tsuruzo have another date in Shoku's restaurant where they would order the best dishes that Shoku's family has. If Shoku is there, He can help Ayano with making the date go by perfectly by serving them special dishes and the best one as well from the menu. He will only help if Ayano matches him with Amai or if Ayano befriends him.
During the date, Tsuruzo does reveal to Kizana the real reason why he was into acting. He reveals that the reason why he chose the path of becoming an actor was because when he was a kid, he saw Kizana's parents in a movie that his parents watched. He saw the passion, determination, and talent within them that inspired him to become an actor himself. He hopes that in the future, he can be an amazing actor like her parents are.
Kizana does encourage her to follow his dream. Kizana does trust him and care about him more than anyone in the club for how similar they see the world and their passion for acting.
As their date continues, Kizana gets to tell Tsuruzo about her dark secret among other personal things about her and her life. Towards the end, the two are holding hands again on the table as a sign that the date was successful.
—
Thursday → Behind the Scenes
Once Kizana found out the reason why Tsuruzo wanted to become an actor, Kizana decided to bring him behind the scenes of a movie that her parents were working on. Tsuruzo does get to meet Kizana's parents, being honored to be in their presence. Ayano doesn't get to be present, but she does speak with Tsuruzo before the date. It's like how Ryoba did it with the suitors in 1989.
During the date, Tsuruzo tells Kizana that he hopes that one day that she will be as successful as her parents and for him to witness it. He wants to be there for her success and watch her grow. He does believe in her that she will make it to Hollywood. He wants to be there to cheer her on, throw her roses, and admire her.
This causes Kizana to blush at the thought of having Tsuruzo there for her and stare her with those admiring eyes that he has been doing for the past dates. Now, she thinks, what if Tsuruzo was the one who was by her side and not Taro? How would life be with him?
This is the first time when Tsuruzo would peck her cheek as the two hold hands before returning to watching Kizana's parents act in their scenes of the movie. They're pretty much leaning against each other in the background.
—
Friday → Romeo and Juliet
During club activities, Kizana and Tsuruzo practice the parts of Romeo and Juliet as Tsuruzo as Romeo. During the play, they are saying their lines and doing what they need to do.
Kizana realizes, during the play, that Tsuruzo is the Romeo she's been looking for the whole time. Someone who will understand her, be there for her, cheer her on, and make her shine as bright as a star. A young man who would look at her as if she was the whole galaxy, just like Romeo looks at Juliet.
After the play, Tsuruzo would give her expensive jewelry (because you know how Kizana is) that Tsuruzo got customized for her, but would give her a box to keep her jewelry safe. A box that had roses as a design with her name in cursive on the top with a heart on top of the I. Kizana cherishes his gift and wears the jewelry every single day since then.
Kizana officially fell in love with Tsuruzo and moved on from Taro.
Ayano successfully matchmade Kizana and Tsuruzo.
—
After school on Friday, Kizana confesses her feelings towards Tsuruzo. Tsuruzo accepts her feelings, saying that he feels the same way. They share their first kiss under the cherry tree and become an official couple.
During Oka's week, they can be seen walking around school, in the Drama Club acting out a scene, in the gymnasium practicing on stage, and can be seen cuddling on a bench, or in the plaza benches.
In the future, Tsuruzo and Kizana become actors together who travel the world and have been in movies together. Tsuruzo always showed Kizana support and threw her roses after her plays were done. He still remains looking at her as if she was his whole galaxy (which she is) even if they're old.

History's a fascinating concept, don't you think? Of course you would. You remind me a lot of my brother in that way. A total nerd. You could rant for hours about obscure political figures and the collapses of empires. And I'd sit and listen to each and every word.
I was never good at history. I'm not good at anything, really. But history seemed so boring to me. Still, it's undeniably crucial to know your history. Where you came from, what came before you, how the world has been formed and reformed, how cultures developed. It's quite a world out there.
And yet, for as broad as history is, for as big as this world is, we're all people. History can be written by and about each and every one of us. Each of us has our own history. Where we've been, who we are, what formed us.
Think of it like a library containing eight billion unique stories. Each one is special in its own right. It's my favorite place to visit. I browse and look around at the different names, different appearances, different writing styles and creative decisions. But for whatever reason, my eye was drawn to yours.
And I never put it down.
In your book, I'm a footnote. I doubt I even get named. But my book has the pages ripped and torn out. Each new page furiously writing your name on each line in swooping cursive.
Your book is kept under lock and key. I steal glances when I can. You let me in for just a moment. And then you slam it shut while turning your head. My book is wide open for you. I spilled its contents on the floor. But you won't even look. It just does not catch your eye.
I see where your story ends. Such a kind fearless leader. Such a brave noble knight. Such a personality to be around. Such a person to know. Such an 'always in the right place at the right time'. You have nothing but sunshine ahead. A happy ending awaits, and I hope it carries you in a golden chariot across a meadow.
My story does not get an ending, as nobody cared enough to write it. What ever happened to that creature? No one knows. It doesn't matter.
I'm just alone on my desk. My book is collecting dust. And I'm holding a counterfeit, writing with a dull pencil. And each word is daydreaming of the day you come around in that golden chariot. Where I can finally understand what all the pain had been for. And where I can smile and say I got to be a chapter in your story.
Empires have come and gone, natural disasters strike, wars waged, culture and trends shift and evolve. But you. You're a constant light. A constant star in the night sky that I'm always awestruck by. You shine down on me, never looking down. But I dream of being up there with you. Making history. Shining. Together.
But here I still am. Sitting on my desk. The pages are damp. The pencil snapped in half. My head's buried in my hands. And I'm desperately praying you'll give me something real to write about this time.

Well I had always loved Charlotte's channel and never dreamed about posting here. But I (at the time 24 F) attended my Cousins wedding lets call her Danica. Danica is a few years older then me I'm not sure by how much and are directly related our mothers being sisters.
Here's some history/context before the drama. My dad was in the military and was deployed a lot throughout my childhood so I spent a lot of time at my grandparents house in the middle of the woods.
Danica seemed to be frustrated every time I was there. Whenever I was going something with grandma she'd ask to go ride horses (they had 4 horses at the time) Grandma said I could show a horse, meaning a horse competition. Then Danica asked to show it so I could no longer show the sand horse not sure why.
So with the horse's and middle of nowhere ranch feel she grew up in Danica ended up being a redneck wanna be. Dressing in plaf and cowboy boots going to amature car races where she later met her soon to be husband.
Let's call him Patrick. Patrick worked for Danica's father Uncle Bob #2 (Danica ans my mother have a brother named Bob)
So Danica brings her Dave Matthew's band look alike boyfriend to the holidays. Where hw, just like het father, proceds to go out of his way to not talk to me or be in the same room. To the point when Danica mocks my switch and games I was playing he remarked to her I must not have a lot of friends
Flash forward to 2021 So more content Danicas parents got married on September 10th and our shared grandparents got married on the 12th of September. So what did she choose? Well thr 8th makes since to the pattern right? Well Danica is a attention seeker. So she gets married on September 11th. Yes we are america so she knew full well what day that was and even more crazy wad it was the 20th anniversary of said event.
Guess who's family was affected by September 11th? Ours. Our grandmother's sister was a vet (like animals) and tended to the police dogs and other animals on ground zero. While my father was a military veteran. So he had to not attend certain engagements with his former comrads. My father's arm was twisted by my mother to attend saying it was the only wedding on her side of the family. And possibly the last family wedding we would attend.
My dad has a neice whos married ans has two young kids, and a nephew who's not married. As for me? I'm the oldist of three so she pretty much said she had no hope in her kids getting married.
So the wedding is a 3 day event us haveing to arrive the 10th her parents anniversary meaning they can't do anything since they had to do wedding things. Till the 12th our grandparents haveing to do the same.
The wedding is held at a Waterpark. Not one of the ones you'd think. It's a overnight resort with woods themeing in a city that's 2 hours away for most people. It's a rather popular tourist destination in our state so there was plenty of stuff to do around there but due to the events no one could really go out and explore.
I arrive at around 2 am since I worked the day of the 10th. I had worked at a diffrent Waterpark of the city at the time so it was only a hour drive for me. I get into my room and my dad is already stressed. He suffers from ptsd so he can't handle big things well.
Figuring out what's wrong, I learn my angel of a mother has taken a lot of duties away from her sister and started buying decorations and putting things up. My mother did photography in her youth and still does it as a hobby. (She has a bridzilla story from those days) so she was asked to take photos. This is also the time that I learn that my invite to the wedding was, a bribe. Our grandmother had threatened to cut the funding of the wedding by around 1,000 and my mom not shoot the wedding if I didn't make the cut to her rather large wedding.
Now day of the wedding arrives. My mom finds out Danica hired a photographer as our grandmother chimed in MORE money after I got a invite. (I had never gotten a offical invite either)
Danica and Patrick had a theme to there wedding as most. So the two colors where blaze orange, like hunting gear and traffic Cone orange. As it was Danicas favorite color and Jean blue, like pants as it was Patrick's favorite color.
The guests had a dress code. Cowboy boots blue jeans ans western style tops. Cowboy hats where encouraged.
Getting downstairs to the venue I find my Grandma complaining about Bob #1 not being at the wedding to his son Xander. Bob #1 never sees Xander as he lives with his mother on a diffrent coast of the country after his father was stripped of his rights after a DUI. Or at least I was told.
Turns out Bob #1 didn't come becuse of his wife Rose didn't let him. They offered to pay for him and his new young son Buckley to come. Bob #1 said if they wernt paying for Rose's and her mother's ticket he wasn't comming. So he didn't come.
Buckley was about 4 and that also was the amount of times my grandparents saw him. I had never met him and neither did 99% of the family ad Bob #1 doesn't like to visit. Even though he has 3 collage degrees his parents paid for.
The set pieces on the table where vases filled with orange clear and black orbiz. Obviously fake flowers sit in the vase. Theres blaze orange cups at each table with Patrick's race car number on it.
The best part wad the guest book. To the lift when you entered the hall was a table woth gifts for certain members of the family and all children of the family. The only child on our shared side of the family was Buckley who was not there.
The guest book itself? Well it's a car door. Not just any car door it's pulled from one of Patrick's wrecked race cars. It was cleaned and had no dents in if with a black sharpie to sign. However their was massive black letters and even bigger numbers on the door where the sharpie didn't show up. By the time I got to the guest book there was no room to sign.
Wedding comes and Patrick walks out in a cowboy hat, blue jeans, a stained white dress shirt and cowboy boots. His best men walk out wearing the same. The only difference was he had on a black vest.
Danica and the brides maids where late getting to the wedding. Why? We'll my friend it was becuse the horse Danica was ment to ride in on hated her and didn't want her on them. She swapped horses with a brides maid and off they go. They don't arrive on the horses and we could barely even see them arrive.
Now I use to listen to country music. So I know your Toby Keith (r.i.p) Brad Paisley, and Trace Adkins. So none of them where the country twang song that rung out while Danica walked down the Isle but it was a country song for sure.
She was dressed in a very pretty wedding dress with dome cool leave hair peices. So honestly I felt like I was looking at a beauty and the beast tattoo in real life. Beast in weird lettering and beauty in cursive.
Wedding mostly goes fine aside from our Grandfather who was officiating accidently calling Patrick dick.
We all get up and head into the venue to sit and wait for food and drinks.
A little more about the enigma in my family that is me. I'm autistic so like my father I don't like places like weddings. So I had a ear bud in playing vaporwave music and my sketch book. Drawing keeps me calm and not panic and freak out. So imagen the A24 horror I feel when a elderly family member try to RIP my sketchbook out of my hands.
I, a autistic, lesbian, who loves anime and horror draws some things that could kill a victoran child. So it could evaporate a elderly country type person for sure. I really didn't have anything like that in this sketch book. It was a new sketch book but I was practicing drawing kissing so I had a lot of dudes and chick's kissing on one page. So in a panic I tear it out and stash it in my bag. Earning a yelling lecture from my saint of a mother.
Food is served and guess what? I can't eat any of it. Me and my grandma can't have gluten. I can deal with it better then her. I don't eat beef or pork so the ribs are out of the question and the chicken is slathered in gravey. I have gravy and it has flower in it. So I take a plate full of peas and eat up. They didn't have a cake but a dessert table where I grabbed the dryist cookie in the world.
More time passes and well nothing else happens aside from Xander just hanging out with me and my siblings the rest of the week as he really has no connections to that side of the family and he and my brother are close in age. Danica being the oldist of the grandkids followed by me.
So wedding is over, I tell my friends of the mess of a wedding that was. Well in a discord call with my friends I Go to Danicas Facebook and show them pictures of the wedding.
Your classic, a monster truck jumping over them as they kiss. Danica riding a horse. Patrick dipping her as a monster truck drives past kicking up dirt. The classics.
Well as we laughed and looked I'm struck by a emotional monster truck. I see a family photo that was taken at that fateful September 11th. Me at the sorta middle of the photo there's me. Photo shopped to be fatter and my boobs smaller. Even my friends commented. It wasn't even a good photo shop warping the fence behind me.
Now this year Danica will celebrate her 3 year anniversary of that wedding. The only one I have ever gone to in my adult life. Her husband and father still have never spoken a word to me. And our grandparents replaced all photos of me and my siblings with photos of Danicas wedding.
Moral of the story? I am very thankful to my dad for not letting any of us end up like thar.

“Right. Tarp,” Saph muttered to herself as it became evident where the rather massive section of canvas had been hiding. Galaxer had been using it as harness padding, which was mostly due to there really being nowhere else to put it. Even folded in on itself twice it still covered all of the venerable dragon’s back.
“I still don’t get what you want that for? Don’t we have tarps? Actually, no, I know we have some. We used them for the logs and shit,” Pho complained, still not having worked out the purpose of a keep-dweller getting a few dozen square meters of stout waxed canvas.
Saph had to admit it looked to be quality stuff and brand new. It was laid out in the grass for inspection by the buyer, Ray walking along the sides of it, looking it over and passing Saph on her walk round.
“Sooo who is it for?” Saph questioned as she came by.
“Tiguan. For when it rains,” Ray answered meekly as she carried on.
“Ahr I see.”
“Wait, you got this for a dragon who is staying at a keep? Don’t they have a greeting hall?” Pho piped up again, clearly wanting to be heard today.
“Yes, but the floor is stone. It gets cold in winter. Also he gets to keep it. He told me about all the times he has had to sleep outside before. Now if he has this he could stay dry. Or have something nice to lie on.”
“Yes, it can certainly help make a campsite more comfortable,” Galaxer agreed, giving the woman a nod. “But it seems you know that already. Is that for Glira by chance?” he questioned, glancing towards where Saph and Fengi had set up the other tarp for Yldril, to give her some shelter from the rain.
“No, that is for our resident black dragon,” Saph clarified. “I believe she is currently napping in protest.”
“Ahr…” the dragon responded, glancing to Baron, the decorated war veteran. “A peculiar allocation of resources isn’t it, sir?” he asked, with what Saph thought to be humor in his voice.
Baron and Jarix had been sitting behind the line of dragonettes, waiting patiently and having a chat with the two new arrivals when they weren’t busy with all the unloading and various questions.
“It is indeed… but she is of the keep. We are not. If we wanted a tarp we best bring one ourselves,” the red dragon responded, calmly and seemingly not upset about the fact he was sleeping outside still.
‘Didn’t think of that,’ Saph cursed to herself. Glira had of course complained, but, well, she was a bit of an arse too. Baron though, he didn’t deserve worse hospitality than a slave. That wasn’t right.
“Maybe I should bring you one for next year old sport, if they let you out here again that is of course.”
“If they do not, then they best find a suitable replacement. We need every dragon currently on the island, and I doubt that is to change soon.”
“Right you are, well I suppose a lesser teacher will have to do for the recruits. I am sure they will find someone.”
Baron did raise an eyeridge at that comment but didn’t offer anything further.
“Right, okay, my question now. Why don’t you bring a tarp along if it is so nice ?” Pho tried again, glancing between the red and white dragons.
“It is heavy of course, and I do not plan on staying in the wilds any more than is needed. That and I have cargo to carry of course,” Galaxer deflected with a huff, not paying the young huntress much mind.
“Isn’t that gonna be a bit heavy for a dragon who’s supposed to fight then? I swear I’m not trying to be an arse here.”
‘Well you are failing there Pho,’ Saph grumbled to herself, as she watched Ray look down at the tarp, ears lowering slightly.
Saph knew getting something that big couldn’t have been cheap though. Perhaps the greenhorn did have a point. Tiguan couldn’t even be half the weight of Galaxer. But on the upside he didn’t have a shred of armor to wear, unlike Jarix and especially Grevi, so perhaps it would be fine. Might even make his harness a bit more comfortable. It hadn’t looked to Sapphire like the finest of work.
“I’m sure he will be fine. If luck would have it I’m sure he’ll be sticking around this island for some time. Then he can just leave it at whatever keep is closest to what he’s doing, isn’t that right you old grizzled veteran? You must have done that a few times, no?”
Ray’s ears did raise a little at the hopeful words as she looked to Baron.
“It doesn’t get any worse than he leaves it somewhere for a time if he is expecting battle, no. And I do not believe he has a place of his own in the city yet. If what Galaxer says is true and they have taken new recruits, then the shared stables would be quite packed indeed.”
“Oh yes, a fair few young and old. It seems news of the fighting on the frontier lit a few souls.”
“Indeed. Well in that case he might be most appreciative. Some privacy is always nice, even if it is only a clearing somewhere.”
“Oh that is good, I was worried for a moment there he wouldn’t like it,” Ray said happily, giving the tarp one last final glance. “It looks good too. I am very happy with it.”
“Well then I guess we can knock you off the list as well then. I will tell Carnige. Is this black dragon going to come and get it here?”
“Oh I hope so.”
“He will, ain’t no way he’s heading home for winter without swinging by to say hi. If he ain’t staying the winter that is,” Saph declared. She was quite confident in that statement all things considered. Tiguan was a big softy and Ylditz wouldn’t be able to stand the complaining if they didn’t.
“Very well, will you all put it away or should I take it up to the greeting hall when time allows?”
“Oh if you wouldn’t mind. I think it would be quite hard to get up the stairs.”
“Very well. Perhaps before dinner, I do seem to smell something quite lovely yes.”
“We have some stuff on the spits, yes. I hope you will like it. We know you have flown a long way.”
“Indeed, it is always rough doing such a long stint in one go, and I would hazard a guess we aren’t getting more than a few days here before heading home this time now are we?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure just yet Galaxer,” Saph interjected. “We did find something more down below which they are very busy with.”
“Of course you did. Well I am sure we shall hear more of that very soon. Did you hear that, Arch? More stuff down below,” Galaxer called out towards Arch, who seemed to have been having a conversation with Jarix upon being reunited. He did turn his head towards them to answer though.
“Well yes, there were two more vaults. Did they get them open?”
“Well, did you?” Galaxer questioned, looking down to Sapphire.
“Only the one.”
“Ahr, very well. Maybe a chance of a winter flight out here for the inquisition then, that should pay nicely.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
Tom looked about the library that was now filled with playing children, all having fun with their various new toys. The strange board game pieces were currently being used to depict soldiers around a keep made of wooden blocks, which Tom was quite sure the craftsman who made the set would have been appalled by.
Essy and Lothal had come up to oversee the kids after the unloading had been concluded and all the stuff had been stashed away wherever it was destined. Sadly that meant Tom probably couldn’t put off having that chat with Joelina much longer, though he was seriously considering putting it off till after dinner time. Sadly he had a feeling they might have a drink or two tonight, so that probably wouldn’t be such a great idea.
Vulzan had gone down to assist Arch, promising to bring up Tom’s box of stuff sometime later, after he was assured that they would read the letters he had given them today. The trader had brought it up a few times, so he had probably agreed to make sure Tom did indeed read them.
“I think the quality assurance department has declared the toys satisfactory, don’t you think, Jacky?”
“Well nothing has broken yet, so that’s good,” Jacky replied, stepping aside as a pair of kids came running by with red flags strapped to their tails. Said flags were more dragging along the floor than flapping in the wind, but Tom supposed they weren’t made for running speed.
“No, no, they are being very careful. I must say some of these things are very nice though,” Essy added as she arbitrated just how many pieces Revo and Hulunar could have so they could try actually playing said board game. This was met with vehement opposition from Kiran, who needed every soldier for his keep.
“True that. Well best of luck. I’ll go read the mail, shall we Jacky?” Tom questioned, resigning himself to just getting this over with.
“I suppose we shall, yes,” Jacky grumbled in reply, seeming less than pleased.
The two of them made their way out of the library, leaving the kids in the capable hands of Essy, Apuma, and Lothal.
“Probably best to read the letters first. Upstairs?”
“Let’s. If it says something we don’t like we can always burn it and pretend we didn’t get it then.”
“I somehow doubt that would work, but I suppose,” Tom half-sighed and chuckled.
The two of them made their way up to Jacky’s room as she got out the letters she had stashed away inside her breastplate. Tom shut the door behind them and Jacky laid down the letters on the bed so they could have the sun behind them to help read what they said.
“Right then, what are the chances some of this is good news?”
“About the same as Kalestine deciding that we have been working very hard and she’s going to send a herd of tirox marching past the front door,” Jacky replied as they both took a seat on the bed and Jacky took out her knife.
“You know, maybe Shiva will let you have that fancy one with the ruby in the hilt?” Tom tried in good humor as Jacky set about looking through the envelopes, presumably looking for the oldest.
“I wish. Can you imagine what she would do if I dropped it or something? Maybe for some special occasion.”
“Well, if it can sniff out deer hiding in the bushes then surely it’ll be fine. Are you in the habit of losing things in the forest?”
“It has been some time… but it has happened,” Jacky admitted a little sheepishly as she found what she was looking for and started opening one of the envelopes. Inside there was a folded up crisp white paper.
“Oh my, look at this stuff, it’s almost as nice as some of your paper.”
Tom just nodded, watching as she unfolded it, revealing an utter mess of what Tom could only guess was the equivalent of dragonette cursive. “Oh you have to be shitting me, what the hell is that?” he protested, looking at the nearly impossible to decipher scribbles.
“Fucking city dwellers,” Jacky agreed, squinting as she held the letter up a bit closer. “I guess I need to make Apuma proud.”
“If you could, yeah. I’ve got no chance.”
“Dear Tom. I hope this finds you well. -Oh you wish for that now- Since last we met I have formulated some questions for which I would like you to provide me with an answer. Send your reply via Vulzan if you are able… -What is she on about, she sent us a pair of those earrings?”
“I don’t know… is that it?”
“Well no we got questions you see,” Jacky replied, tapping the paper with the claw on her thumb.
“How do your people know of dragons? Why are infants thrown into pools of water? What is the point of a cat? Where do cars come from? Are they grown? Why is there music everywhere? Is it true that giving birth is truly the most painful thing in the world to a human? -It just goes oon and oooon. Look at this shit, she really fit it in here.” Jacky turned the letter around to Tom to see and it ruely was packed, line after line. “She ran out of space… oh no, bit on the back here. What is the meaning of the combat simulations displayed by the thinking machine, is it training? And why is it not take more seriously if it is? Are you tricking the children into accepting grueling training for more than 12 hours a day?”
“Oh my, yeah she’s in my younger years I guess… I used to love going to the swimming halls, you know… and I might have liked my computer a bit too much.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“Oh come on, it was good fun at the lake.”
“Get me warm water and then we are talking.” Jacky dismissed, looking back to the letter.
“We do have that actually.”
“Oooh.”
“Anyway, next letter please. I have a feeling this isn’t the end of the questions.”
“Yeah probably,” Jacky agreed, trimming the top of the second envelope with a claw and taking out the letter. “Oh she’s uhm… her writing is a bit worse on this one. Where are the ships that breach the heavens and the universe itself? I have seen movies and imagery of them, but never in your memories do they appear! Do they exist?! Are you from a backwards country without lance weapons and teleportation machines? And how were dogs produced from wolves!? I must know this!”
“Oh my… someone has been to the mental cinema I guess… Wait. I thought she already knew about what a movie was? I could have sworn she saw a movie in my memories.”
“Paulin did get to see one if I remember right. She must have told her all important Joelina about it.”
“Yeah…” Tom replied, thinking further on the implications of this. “She is definitely seeing more than I am too. I’ve only seen a few flashes of her childhood and younger days, though it seems to be slowly advancing towards the current time.”
“Maybe she can use her mind magic stuff to see more? I don’t know. I bet you a gold she’s trying to make the dreams worse, not better like us. Maybe it’s driven her a bit mental? Well, more mental.”
“I suppose so yeah… Another one,” Tom replied, gesturing for her to continue.
“Yup. Next one it is… Oh dear. Right.” Jacky squinted at the paper. Tom leaned over and confirmed that the letter was indeed a mess, complete with drips of ink and smudged out symbols. “I ha-have. Discovered. What a motion image is… -Well that’s good-. I understand the art of the computer’s hallucinations. They are not real. But rockets! Are rockets real Tom? Have your people visited the gods! Why is there only one god at the churches where you grew up? Yet there are other churches, the other gods are seen as alien, or different, why? Where are the gods Tom! Why are they disparate!... -Man, I think she’s about lost it.”
“Oh dear… Yeah, might need to clarify some things… And sweep some under the rug. If she’ll even believe me,” Tom said doubtfully, grimacing as he looked at the remaining letter. “Let’s get it over with, last one.”
“Right oh, let’s see what this one says… Oh… I think this one is for you.” She simply turned the letter around and showed the contents, big bold drippy latin letters—in Danish.
“SVAR MIG.”
“What does it say?” Jacky questioned, sounding a touch worried.
“Answer me… I’m guessing this is where she decided on sending those earrings.”
“Ahr yeah that would make sense,” Jacky agreed, glancing at the wooden box which contained the lone earring. “Wait, why did she bother leaving in the first letters when she sent this anyway?”
“I don’t know, why did she feel the need to put childrens toys in the same box as a suit of enchanted half-heretical armor and the blade of... what was he called again?”
“The second most wanted man alive”.
“Yeah that… I don’t think she’s doing so hot.”
“Think she’ll be very mad if you wait till tomorrow?”
“Probably,” Tom conceded as he slid the lid off the box, picking up the small silvery piece of jewelry. He took a deep breath, looking to Jacky. “Right, safeword is spaghetti. If I say it thrice in a row, take it off.”
“Right, sounds like a plan. Good thing Paulin isn’t here, right?”
“Yeah… actually,” he leaned in and whispered, “Go check the corridor, someone might be listening. Quietly.”
“You’re the quiet one,” Jacky complained as she got up, Tom picking up the earring and studying it in his hands.
It had fine intricate runes running along its surface in little channels. It was exquisite handiwork, that much he could tell. ‘And not cheap like we know.’
Jacky went up to the door and with a rapid jerking motion opened it, sticking her head out to glance down either corridor. “All clear…” She pulled her head back in and locked the door. “Put the damn thing on then. No promises I won’t fuck up your ear if I have to rip it off.”
“Rather that than something worse happening. I kinda wished I’d gotten to see more of her life before this.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jacky questioned as she sat down next to him on the same side where a hole had already been punched for the last time he had a crack at this sorta thing. “You always wake up, shaking, cold, crying, screaming or whatever the fuck might have happened that time. And you want more?”
“Well not that part… I guess she has already been through my memories once before, and not like she knows something about me I don’t… but still would be nice to know how the hell she ended up where she is. She knows that about me.”
“Or how her mentor’s knife ended up at Furlong keep.”
“That too… that too… maybe I’ll be able to ask.”
“You do that… now, get it over with.”
“Right.” Tom held the earring up to his ear and started to fiddle with it a bit. A bit turned into a while and soon enough Jacky grew impatient.
“Really? You can’t put on an earring?”
“It’s not like it’s something I do often. Damn thing is fiddly, don’t wanna break it either.”
“It’s mithril, it won’t just break. Here let me.”
Tom resigned himself to being helped as Jacky quickly put in the little thing and slid in the locking pin. “Right, there you go. Have fun I suppose.”
“Yeah yeah, try not to rip my ear off if I start making funny noises. Remember, safeword is spaghetti.”
“I got it.”
“Right, how was it? I close my eyes an-”
__________________________________________________________________________________
“Anyone seen Tom and Jacky? Dinner is almost ready,” Ray questioned as she came up the stairs from the kitchen into the grand hall where everyone was starting to congregate. Well, all of the dragonettes at least. The dragons had elected to eat all together down in front of the keep, rather than having one or two of them eat in the greeting hall.
That was all the dragons save for Yldril though. She was consigned to her awning and would get what was left over. That should still be a fair bit of food, and certainly better food than she got normally, but Saph doubted it would do much for her demeanor. Said demeanor was why she was consigned however; no one wanted to put up with her at a feast.
“No, we were told not to disturb them. I think they got something to do. They are up in Jacky’s room,” Saph replied on her way to sit down at the huntress table.
“Ahr okay… should I put something aside for them later?”
“That might be best. We don’t know how long they will be.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute then. Tell the others to start taking seats, we are nearly there.”
Saph just nodded and smiled as Ray turned back and hurried down the stairs, but a moment later Balethon and Herron came up said stairs with a spitted deer, which was to be their main course for the day. ‘Oh this should be lovely… Do I wanna try out some of the ham too today I wonder?’
As she sat down at the table it was pretty evident that most of the others had decided that yes, they would be trying out some of the interesting new things they got. It was rather hard to complain after whoever had sold you something had already left.
There had been a lot of chatting and a few good laughs as they all got settled in, and true to Ray’s word they were soon called up to come get their portions of meat and sides. It was good stuff. Someone had snuck in some extra herbs and spices either at the last minute or possibly used the last of old stores now that they knew resupply was coming.
They did have a few guests at the huntress table, namely Udanti and Tirox from Archeon’s crew. They were of course interrogated thoroughly for any news about how things had been going in the world at large.
Tirox spoke highly and with his usual brash bravado about tales of battles fought all along both the frontier and even some middling keeps. He did not seem worried in the slightest, relating victory after victory. Udanti seemed less enthused, and as the meal progressed hushed murmurs and gossiping began to spread among all the tables, as far as Saph could work out from where Udanti was sitting.
Darklings attacking middling keeps, or ring keeps as some would call them, like the one where she grew up. That could not be good. The darklings were growing bolder. Udanti had heard rumors that the guard had suffered losses too. Last time they had received much news of the war, there had been no mention of any defeats by the guard, only keeps raided or besieged. But according to Udanti, an entire combat wing of rookies had not been heard from for some time, and no one was being told what had happened to them.
Tirox didn’t think much of it. Maybe they were just holed up, and even if they had been lost it was only one wing of dragons. That was to be expected in war. By the time the dinner was more or less finished they had also all heard the rumors about Rashan. Bo and Pho had needed to be brought up to speed on just who that was, but everyone who had been with the keep before all this started knew well enough who that was and what this all meant.
“I guess Shiva is gonna need to try again to convince Tom to make that dragon killing cannon then?” Fengi questioned, seeming almost apathetic about it.
“Or something like it,” Essy echoed, nodding as she sipped a cup of a special tea she had bought.
“Don’t push him on that. I’m sure all the stuff we’re already doing will be plenty. There are so many other things he wants to do. Most sound like they would be good news for us too.”
“Yeah speaking of good news, miss silver streak, I heard you found someone special. Where is he at?” Udanti the archer questioned, seemingly wishing to change the subject as well.
“Oh Maiko? I don’t know actually?” Sapphire admitted, looking around to see if he was sitting at the guards table like he usually did, but there was no sign of him.
“I think he is with Yldril,” Fengi added, sipping the tea a little as well. “I’m sure he snuck her some food or something.”
“Maiko got a soft spot for a traitor dragon or something?” Tirox questioned with a huff, tilting his head.
“No, he’s trying to get on her good side. Might be handy one day,” Fengi answered plainly. “… And it might make her a little less insufferable.”
“Oh… I see, so it’s like a mission you put him on?”
Saph wasn’t sure this was something that should be discussed openly at the dinner table, but she wasn’t about to stop Fengi. At least not yet.
“Yes, don’t blab to the dragon about it. Then it won’t work. And her ears are good, remember that.”
“Oh… okay,” the male trader escort replied, looking at Fengi a little confused.
He likely remembered a far happier and more bubbly girl than who was sitting at the table now. Saph sighed to herself. These past months had been hard on Fengi. Very hard. Hopefully things would get better. Maybe they could do something about all that now. Then it clicked for Saph why Fengi might not be so cheery today. It wasn’t just that Yldril had been segregated around the back of the keep.
‘Maybe she got some bad news from those trying to find Dorae for her… Probably best not to bring that up here.’
“Oh yeah by the way, I heard some talk you got the hook up too, didn’t you Fengi?” Udanti questioned, once more trying to steer the conversation back to something positive, obviously not knowing that was a touchy subject.
Fengi put on a forced smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to show she at least appreciated the gesture. “I did… it’s been a little rough though with all this… stuff going on…”
“Ooooh riiight,” Udanti replied, seeming to catch on now. “I’m guessing he isn’t much for getting bossed around.”
Before Fengi could reply, Essy interjected. “Oh no, quite the opposite. He’s a right little knight so he is. But he is at times a bit of a… oh speak of the devil,” she carried on, her gaze carrying past Udanti to the young guard approaching the huntress table. Saph spied a familiar looking small box in the palm of one of his hands.
By the time he made it up to the table all heads were turned to look at the young man, which seemed to unnerve him just a touch, which was understandable to be fair.
“Hi uhm… Okay. So many more people hehe… Right,” he went, seeming to steel himself, Fengi turning around fully on the bench to face him. “I know what you think of me… that I’m a weak willed coward… I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better, but I can’t promise anything. Here,” he went, holding out the little box towards Fengi. “I know you don’t like flowers much… So I got you this instead.”
There was perfect silence at the table, especially from the trader escorts who had no clue what was going on. Fengi gingerly held out a hand and took the box, looking up at Unkai with a curious expression then down to the box as she opened it, revealing a beautiful pair of silver earrings with rectangular cut emeralds set in them.
“I hope you like them.”
Fengi stared at them for a moment, one hand going up to touch the plain copper ones she wore most days. Saph couldn’t actually remember, but she guessed Shiva had made them some time back. They were not overly remarkable, almost rugged looking by comparison to the new silver ones.
“I love them,” Fengi finally declared just as it seemed like Unkai was losing hope. Looking up at him she wore a far more genuine smile than before. “Though I could do with some flowers too one of these days. Those times were simpler.”
The guard let out a slight involuntary chuckle and nodded. “I think I can manage flowers.”
“You used to be quite good at picking out the prettiest ones,” Essy added in her motherly tone. “Maybe there are still a few who haven’t succumbed to the cold and rain.”
Fengi took one of the earrings out of the box and held it up to her ear, looking around at them all. “How do they look?”
“Elegant,” Saph said, nodding her approval. It was the truth. They weren’t overly ostentatious, and they wouldn’t have suited Fengi if they were. And who knew, with everything happening at the keep, she might find herself with a matching silver crown before too long. “Silver suits you.”
Fengi even let out a little giggle at that, putting it gingerly back in the box and looking back to Unkai, who had not moved a muscle, probably having run out of planning 30 seconds ago. And Fengi’s smile faded a touch. “I’m sorry but… I didn’t think to get you anything special…”
Unkai had seemed worried for a second as her smile had faded, but livened right back up as the reason was made plain. “Oh don’t worry about that…just try not to hate me. That will be plenty.”
Fengi’s smile faded a little further. “I don’t hate you, I’m sorry if you thought that.”
Saph and the others did exchange some glances. There could be no doubt they had been hard on the guy, but it did seem to have worked.
“No no, it is okay. I get it… I was a jerk… I might be again. But I’ll try not to be, okay?”
“I guess I’ll try not to be so scary… no promises either.”
‘Awww that’s nice,’ Sapphire mused to herself, a smile starting to grow. ‘Ooh I wonder if Maiko got me something?’
__________________________________________________________________________________
Righty oh, your medicin has been administered, I do hope you liked it, I did try my best to make it palatable. on the news front things appear to be going swimingly, so expect HoH to carry on as normal for many more months to come. We also got a bit more cool art, check it out if that's your sorta thing.
Till next time, take care.
Wiki and Art Gallery If you can't remember who someone is, want to read any of the side stories of fanfiction, or you just wanna watch some of the cool art that's been made for the story. Patreon If you want to help get more cool shit made consider joining the Patreon, you also get chapters two weeks ahead of time. HoH Subreddit if you want more stories from the HoH universe or are interested in writing something for this funny little world. Discord if you wanna have a chat about the story or just hang out First Previous Next

Listen, this match has gone on for a long, long time. Hefty got the prompt wrong and booked a Bryan Danielson title reign. I tried to follow the prompt, but I realized a Danielson reign would be more fun, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m also gonna jump back to when he SHOULD have won the belt. Time machine type shit.
Let's set the scene, shall we? It's Winter is Coming 2022, and MJF is the AEW World Champion. He has just defeated a fellow Pillar, Jungle Boy, in the main event. After the match, he stands above his adversary's lifeless body, holding his Championship high above his head, talking trash. That is, until we hear THIS. Bryan Danielson wants another shot at the AEW World Title, and MJF looks petrified! They share a staredown, and Danielson points at the belt, at himself, and leaves the ring. We have ourselves a feud in the making!
Bryan cuts a few promos, calling MJF out for hiding behind The Pinnacle. MJF refuses to comment, which only fuels the American Dragon, who takes to calling Max a coward. It seems like the Champion is sick of this, as when Bryan Danielson walks into the backstage area at New Year's Smash Night 1, he's ambushed by The Pinnacle, who slam his leg with a car door!
For weeks after that, MJF talks mad shit about Danielson. He actually utters the words "I guess the Dragon got his wings clipped." However, in early February, FTR have a match against the Varsity Blonds, with MJF at ringside. They win. However, a video comes in on the big screen. Shawn Spears with a chair around his leg, and Danielson standing over him!
"MJF, I'm back. And I don't have much to say. But if you keep dodging me, this will keep happening."
He stomps right on the chair, breaking Shawn's leg! Bryan winks at the camera before the feed goes out! MJFTR are left in the ring, shocked! Bryan still doesn't get the match he wants, so he blindsides Dax Harwood, locking him in the Cattle Mutilation on concrete for over a full minute! MJF then tells Cash Wheeler to deal with him, which results in Bryan vs. Cash.
That match ends with Danielson hitting repeated stomps, prompting a ref stoppage! But the American Drsgon continues to stomp him out, and MJF runs in, attacking Bryan! After knocking him over, he finally makes the match at Revolution official: Bryan Danielson vs. MJF for the AEW Championship.
AEW REVOLUTION - MARCH 4TH, 2023
MJF (c) vs. Bryan Danielson - AEW World Championship
MJF comes out without The Pinnacle by his side, as they've all been injured at the hands of his opponent tonight, Bryan Danielson. He's going to have to get this done all by himself.
Bryan Danielson has over 20 years of experience, while MJF has less than 10. However, MJF is a prodigy, and the World Champ, so Bryan isn't exactly in for an easy time.
The bell rings, and Friedman is hesitant to lock-up. Once he eventually ties up with Bryan, Danielson immediately gets control and drags him to the mat! MJF struggles, and starts to panic. Could Bryan lock some sort of match-ending submission right off the bat? No, MJF gets a foot on the ropes, and the ref forces Bryan to break the hold. The two men get back up, and lock up once more. This time, Danielson immediately turns MJF into a Hammerlock, and the champ actually looks confident here, as he cartwheels, somersaults, and pops back to his feet with a grin! But Danielson kicks his legs out from underneath him and starts stomping on his shoulder! This is brutal! As MJF writhes in pain, The American Dragon picks him up once again. But Maxwell sneaks in a headbutt, knocking Bryan to the mat! He smirks, flips off the crowd, and runs the ropes, looking for some sort of Splash. But Danielson kips up, and kicks MJF HARD in the leg! MJF drops and has to roll out of the ring, limping!
The champ doesn't have anybody left from The Pinnacle to confer with on the outside, so he limps back up to the apron. Danielson gets a little over-eager, kicking him through the ropes, while MJF is on the apron! Two kicks catch him flush in the head! But MJF catches one! HE DROPS TO THE FLOOR, AND BRYAN'S KNEE BENDS OVER A ROPE!!! He falls to the mat, and now both competitors have a sore leg. MJF struggles to the top rope, and Bryan climbs to his feet using the ropes. MJF dives off, STOMPING ON BRYAN'S ARM! A SALT OF THE EARTH COULD END HIM LATER!!!
As Bryan holds his arm and grits his teeth, MJF laughs and lightly kicks at him, like he's a toy. The champion lifts the wounded Dragon to his knees, and hits a Snap DDT! Cover! 1, 2, kickout! This one is far from over. MJF gets up, angry, and starts to stomp relentlessly on Bryan's arm! Danielson tries to cover up, but Max finds a way to continue driving his boot into his elbow and bicep! This is becoming very one-sided!
MJF picks him up again, and goes for a Suplex, but Danielson lands on his feet, grabs a one-armed waistlock, and manages to hoist MJF up for a German Suplex!!! Bryan darts over to the champ, and tries to apply the LeBell Lock! But his arm fails him, he's not strong enough to put it on at the moment! MJF transitions into Full Mount and starts to raise down elbows and hammerfists on the challenger, who can't block them!
Bryan rolls out of the ring, weathered, and MJF decides to show off. He steps out to the apron, bounces off the middle rope, and HITS A PERFECT MOONSAULT ON THE FORMER WWE CHAMPION!!! MJF CAN TRULY DO IT ALL!!! He then picks up Bryan, who's in a bad way, and plants him with a POWERBOMB ON THE APRON! The Champ very well may be able to win this alone!
He lifts Danielson up again, and starts punching him, but Danielson starts to block them, and throws some body shots of his own! MJF tries to kick him away, but Danielson has it scouted, catches it, and hits a Dragon Screw! Danielson has the upper hand for the first time in quite a while, but he's still damaged, hobbling around because of his leg and back. He puts it aside for a moment, and as MJF gets up, Bryan runs forward! BUSAIKU KNEE, SENDING THE CHAMPION OVER THE RAILING!!! DANIELSON HAS THE UPPER HAND AGAIN!!!
Danielson limps over to the Timekeeper's Area, where he grabs a rolls of tape. The American Dragon slowly tapes his arm up, taking over a full minute to insure that his sore appendage is guarded From MJF's offense. Then, he marches back towards the guardrail, where he reaches over and grabs MJF in the Guillotine position. Balancing the champion on the railing for a moment, Bryan pauses. DRAPING DDT! RIGHT ON THE FLOOR!
Soaking in the cheers, Danielson lifts up the lifeless MJF, trying to lug him into the ring. With his arm taped up, it's a little difficult, but he managed to elevate the champ enough to get him onto the apron, before pushing him in. Danielson walks up, taking the steps, and halfway into the ring, MJF bounces up to his feet and cuts him off! Gets him in position! HEATSEEKER PILEDRIVER!!!! He desperately drags Bryan into the ring! 1, 2, Thr-NOOOOO!!!!!!!! THIS IS STILL GOING ON, MJF LOOKS HELPLESS!
MJF looks demented now, as he starts to stomp on Bryan's taped up arm even more! He plunges into Full Mount! Elbows and elbows, over and over! BUT BRYAN IS A TREMENDOUS GRAPPLER, AND HE THROWS UP A TRIANGLE CHOKE! MJF quickly lifts him up, GOING FOR A POWERBOMB, BUT DANIELSON ROLLS THROUGH WITH A HURRACANRANA! Both men back up now, and Max goes for a Lariat, but Bryan kicks it away! CLUBBING SHOT TO THE HEAD WITH THE STIFF, TAPED UP ARM! Friedman is rocked badly, but he jumps up and hits a Dropkick! BOTH MEN DOWN!!!!
As the crowd shows their appreciation with chants, the two competitiors get up to their knees. Exchanging slaps, each one harder than the last! Bryan has experience with this kind of hard-nosed fighting, and he starts to gain an advantage, hitting 3 slaps in a row! MJF GRABS HIM AND FORCES HIM DOWN TO THE MAT, HITTING HIM IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD REPEATEDLY! With his concussion history, this could be VERY dangerous! The champ unravels the tape on Danielson's arm frantically! SALT OF THE EARTH! IT'S LOCKED IN ON THE DESTROYED ARM, DANIELSON MAY HAVE TO TAP! BUT HE MANAGES TO ROLL MJF OVER! ARMS HOOKED! BRIDGE! THE CATTLE MUTILATION IS IN! IT'S TIGHT, MJF'S ARMS ARE FLAILING AROUND! AND SUDDENLY, THEY GO LIMP! HE'S OUT, THE REF STOPS THE MATCH! THE NEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW AEW WORLD CHAMPION, "THE AMERICAN DRAGON" BRYAN DANIELSON!!!!!!!!!!
Bryan Danielson def. MJF (c) (19:32)
AEW Dynamite - March 8th, 2023
Bryan Danielson addressed his future after winning the World Title.
"After so much time, I almost forgot what it feels like to be a World Champion. What it's like to be the man, what it's like to be the guy holding the top belt. And it feels damn good. But on Saturday, I was reminded of what it's like to be the challenger. Clawing, trying to make a statement and etching my name in the history book. I forgot how fun it is. I wanna give that opportunity to other people, guys that haven't been able to yet."
"I sure as hell am not here to pity young guys. I'll go all out against them. But I still wanna give them the chance to figure out what it's like to face off with the best, hoping to hell that you can pull off a victory. And I'm that guy that can give it to them, because I'm the best. So I'm putting out an open contract for Rampage next week. Whoever answers it: good luck. You'll need it."
AEW Dynamite - March 15th, 2023
Daniel Garcia is backstage.
"For a while now, people have been calling me the future of AEW. I hear it, and you'd think it makes me proud. But no. It pisses me off. Because I'm not the future, I'm the damn present! I'm ready now! So Bryan Danielson, I signed your open contract. You just signed your death warrant. Get ready for a Red Death."
AEW Rampage - March 17th, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Daniel Garcia - AEW World Championship
Danielson comes into this one with a confident, somewhat cocky demeanor. Garcia makes him pay for that, stretching him, nearly managing to submit the champ and take his belt on the very first defense! However, Bryan is a better striker, and takes advantage of that, chopping at his legs and slowing 2point0's Favourite Son down.
Garcia continues to fight, but the expertise shown by the American Dragon proves to be too much for the young star. After a methodical dismantling of "Red Death", Bryan applies a Heel Hook for the win. That's 1 defense down.
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Daniel Garcia (14:09)
AEW Rampage - March 24th, 2023
Bryan is on commentary for the entire show. Max Caster picks up a win over Shawn Dean, and Bryan picks up a mic.
"Max, I didn't expect that from you. You won that match the right way, and I salute you. So on next week's Dynamite, I'd be willing to give you a Championship Eliminator Match. If you win, you get a title shot."
Max nods eagerly. Why is Bryan doing this? Such an unorthodox choice.
AEW Dynamite - March 29th, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Max Caster - AEW World Championship Eliminator
Max Caster's entrance goes like this:
"YO, LISTEN
WE ARE THE ACCLAIMED, SPIT STRAIGHT FIRE
MAKE DANIELSON WISH HE COULD RE-RETIRE
YOU STAY AT THE BOTTOM, WE AT THE PEAK THOUGH
MAKE YOU BLEED LIKE MY EARS WHEN I HEAR BRIE MODE
AIN'T BOUTTA LOSE TO NO GERIATRIC DRAGON
YOU NEED A DAMN CANE AND YOUR FACE IS SAGGIN'
REMEMBER THE NAME, BECAUSE MAX IS THE BEST
AND HE MAKES BRYAN'S WIFE SCREAM "YES! YES! YES!"
After that crude line, the match gets underway. Bryan hits a Busaiku Knee, locks in the LeBell Lock, and Max taps! This is over already! What a quick win!
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Max Caster (0:17)
Homicide on Twitter - April 2nd, 2023
Former ROH World Champion Homicide, who ended Bryan Danielson's extraordinary reign in 2006, posts this on his Twitter page.
"FYI=I ended the greatest title reign of Bryan Danielson's career, and I could do it again."
AEW Dynamite - April 5th, 2023
Bryan Danielson sits backstage, belt draped over his shoulder.
"Homicide wants to face me, huh? All these years later. He beat me in a hell of a match in 2006, and never had a bigger moment since. Wrestling is a business about doing shit lately, and are you doing shit, Homicide? No.
However. I've said that I'm here to give opportunities, right? Well, you'll get one. 17 years later, you get one. Our feud is old enough to drink in some countries, and we're about to rekindle it. In 2 weeks. Dynamite. Championship Eliminator Match. Let's turn back the clock."
AEW Dynamite - April 12th, 2023
Homicide vs. Fuego del Sol
This is just a match to introduce fans to Homicide. It's a fun little back, that sees Fuego show off some agility. However, he gets worn down by Homicide's pure, distilled brutality. He just can't take his punches, and he sure as hell can't take the Cop Killa that puts him down for the 1, 2, 3.
Homicide def. Fuego del Sol (7:34)
After the match, Danielson and Homicide share a staredown.
AEW Dynamite - April 19th, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Homicide - AEW World Championship Eliminator
Bryan seems just as good, if not better, than he did in 2006. However, Homicide's got some miles on him, and it shows. He manages to put up a damn good fight, though, managing to bust open Bryan's chest with chops! However, over the course of the duration of the match, as Danielson starts to control the pace more and more, the Dragon seems to get very frustrated. "Come on, show me something!"
Something seems to snap in him as the contest progresses. He seems to develop a sense of mortality. He realizes that one of his greatest rivals isn't the fighter he once was, and that one day, Bryan won't be either. And all of a sudden, he seems to get a feeling of superiority. That he's on top of his game, even after 20-plus years. That he's the AEW World Champion.
That he's The Best.
Eventually, he wriggle out of a Cop Killa, keeping the arms hooked, and he locks in the Cattle Mutilation for the tap. But Bryan doesn't celebrate, preferring to get up calmly.
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Homicide (16:16)
The champ demands a mic.
"Man, that was disappointing. Homicide truly isn't what he once was. And you know what? That's not ok. His time here, tonight, could've been used to serve a younger talent. Someone that isn't broken down. But no, he had to have his spotlight. So I'm going to make sure that he never has it again."
He prepares to kick Homicide's head in. But at that very moment, Eddie Kingston comes rushing down the ramp to make the save! Danielson rushes out of the ring to a chorus of boos as the Mad King checks on his friend.
AEW Dynamite - April 26th, 2023
Eddie Kingston has something to say.
"You know, Bryan Danielson is a guy that I've never liked. But he took things to a whole new low when he insulted Homicide. That man saved me countless times, and last week, I saved him. That's the least I could do. But I think I wanna do the most. Bryan Danielson, American Dragon, Champ, whatever you wanna call yourself. It's all a front. You pick on young dudes like Caster and Garcia, guys you know you can beat. You go after guys that beat you decades ago, knowing that you can beat them now. Well, why don't you pick on someone that can pick back, huh? Someone like me. I'll be waiting. Don't bitch out, because I swear you'll regret it."
AEW Rampage - April 28th, 2023
It is announced that on Dynamite, we'll get a Championship Match between Eddie Kingston and Bryan Danielson.
AEW Dynamite - May 3rd, 2023
Eddie Kingston vs. Bryan Danielson (c) - AEW World Championship
It's the American Dragon's second defense of his World Title, and it's a tough one. Eddie Kingston looks determined, not only to win the belt but also to avenge Homicide after the disrespect shown to him by Bryan Danielson.
This isn't a match, it's a fight. We see more brawling from Bryan than ever before in his AEW run. His chest gets busted open once again, but he manages to do the same to the Mad King with some vicious Roundhouse Kicks. Eddie throws the smaller Danielson around a bit, and Bryan twists the New Yorker into knots with hate-filled Kimuras that Eddie shrugs off!
Eddie hits a Uraken, and it connects flush, but Bryan tumbles through the ropes, leaving Kingston without an opportunity to make the pin! Eddie looks frustrated, and he rages for a moment, giving Danielson precious time to recover.
The champ eventually gets back in, and he starts really locking in submissions, but Eddie refuses to tap to any of them! Eventually, he has a Crucific Lock in, and Kingston, screaming in pain, still doesn't submit! Bryan starts throwing Elbows and his unblocked skull, and after over a dozen, Eddie goes limp! The ref has to stop the match, Danielson is still the AEW World Champion!
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Eddie Kingston (21:50)
AEW Dynamite - May 10th, 2023
Bryan Danielson stands in the middle of the ring. He soaks in the boos. Bryan smiles, and raises the mic to his lips. But before he can get a word out, we hear THIS! Jon Moxley is here!
The Death Rider steps into the ring, and stares the champ down! He looks like he's about to say something, but instead, he plants Danielson with a Death Rider! The American Dragon has been put on notice!
AEW Rampage - May 12th, 2023
Jon Moxley explains his actions.
"I'm cut from the same cloth as Eddie Kingston and Homicide. Those are my brothers. And to see Bryan Danielson dismiss them, the fact that he thinks he's better than us, it pisses me off.
Bryan Danielson isn't better than me. He's the Champ, yeah, but I was too. He was WWE Champ, yeah, I was too. I've done the same shit he has, and I've done it without being a prick with a superiority complex.
So I spoke to the boss. And he said that if I want a shot at his belt at Double or Nothing, I got it. Well guess what, Dragon? I want it. See you on May 29th."
AEW Dynamite - May 17th, 2023
It is announced that on next week's Dynamite, the go-home episode to DoN, there will be a contract signing for the AEW World Championship Match between Mox and Bryan.
AEW Dynamite - May 24th, 2023
A table is set up in the middle of the ring, with Mox and Danielson on opposite ends. Each has a contract in front of them. Danielson speaks first.
"Well, Mox. We crossed paths a few times in that other place, and I was never scared of you. But I heard a lot about how fearsome Jon Moxley was, how you're the Purveyor of Violence. I look at you, and all I see is the same man. Scared, putting up a front, pretending to be a badass. Same as Eddie Kingston, same as Homicide. You guys don't wrestle the right way. You brawl, you cut corners. I'm a pure wrestler, and I'm gonna show that I wrestle the way all wrestlers should when I beat you at Double or Nothing."
Mox looks unfazed. He picks up his own mic.
"Bryan, there's something you're not getting. We aren't fronting about being tough dudes. That's us. That's our life. I wouldn't have won the belt if it wasn't for my past, alright? You learned to fight in a gym, I learned to fight on a street corner in Cincinnati. On Sunday, you're gonna see unfiltered violence the likes of which you simply aren't used to. I'm going to make you wish you stayed in that other company. Who knows, maybe I'll send you back there."
He signs the contract before leaving the ring. All we can do now is wait for Sunday!
AEW Double or Nothing - May 28th, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Jon Moxley - AEW World Championship
Jon Moxley has a crazed look in his eyes as he makes his entrance, not saying a word or engaging with the crowd on his way to the ring. Bryan Danielson, on the other hand, panders (I hate this word) all the way down the ramp, talking shit about brawlers like Mox.
The bell ring, and Mox charges right at Bryan, who immediately dips under the ropes and to the floor, prompting a shower of boos in his general direction. He raises his arms, which makes the jeers even louder. But he doesn't see Moxley diving through the ropes! TOPE SUICIDA TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! With Danielson's concussion trouble, that can't be too good for him.
Mox throws him around, into the barricades and ring posts, which gets the crowd fired up. Danielson tries to kick at him to create distance, but Jon slips all of them, and then continues to get closer, throwing punches continuously. Bryan tries to slide back into the ring for refuge, but the Death Rider doesn't let him, dragging him back out and hitting a Snap Suplex right on the edge of the Timekeeper's Table! It doesn't break, instead holding strong and toppling, causing the American Dragon to fold high up on his shoulders! Mox is already inflicting hell on the champ's head and neck!
Wary of the ref's count, both men get back in the ring, much to the delight of the World Champion. But it seems like he still can't get a rhythm going against Mox, who tees off on him. The former champ bites down on Bryan's head, angering the ref but delighting everybody in the filled arena! Blood begins to trickle out of his head! The champ pulls away in disgust and pain as Jon continues to run wild!
Stomps now, on the legs, midsection and head of Danielson! He keeps switching up his target, making it very difficult for Bryan to block the hellacious boots! Moxley backs off, but Bryan isn't out of the woods yet, as the moment he gets up to a solid base, Mox rushes forward and connects with a HUGE REGAL KNEE! Bryan looks like he's out! An early cover! 1, 2, Thr-NO! It was a kickout, but that was dangerously close this early in the match! This has been extremely one-sided so far!
Mox is undeterred, and he picks Bryan up, putting him in position for an Underhook DTT! The grip is strong, and he tries to lift, but Bryan has the awareness to hook a leg, preventing himself from getting hit with the Paradigm Shift. Moxley starts throwing knees right to the body, and after a dozen of them, Danielson starts to falter again, which tells Jon that it's time to go for the Paradigm Shift again. He's up! But Bryan pushes himself off, lands on his feet, and throws a Roundhouse Kick that lands with a thud on the side of Mox's head! The Purveyor of Violence falls to the mat for the first time in the contest, and Danielson takes a much-needed respite.
Mox starts to get back up, and Danielson kicks at his legs to keep him on the ground. Jon throws a right hook, but the champ has him scouted, and ducks out of the way. Bryan wipes the blood off his face with his hand, and stares at the crimson on his palm. He slaps Mox across the face, leaving a red handprint on the Death Rider's cheek! There's a pause for a moment as the crowd recognizes the disrespect shown, and then Mox tackles Danielson to the canvas! Punch after punch after punch after punch after punch, repeat times infinity! Something has snapped in Mox's head, this onslaught is absolutely vicious!
Bryan helplessly crawls away, and Mox throws hatred-filled, furious soccer kicks at his ribs! Each one makes a sound that echoes throughout the venue, reverberating in the ears of each and ever fan! And Danielson can't stand it, but he gets up and chops Mox! Mox chops back! Danielson! Mox! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! OVER AND OVER, THIS MATCH IS A SPRINT AND THE CROWD IS LOVING IT! BOTH OF THEIR CHESTS ARE RED AND BLOODY, AS THEY TRANSITION TO FOREARMS! REPEATEDLY, ONE OF THEIR HEADS IS ABOUT TO BE CAVED IN! SLAPS NOW! AGAIN AND AGAIN! Finally, each man throws a headbutt! THEY BOTH COLLAPSE!!!!
After a bit of a wait, the two men stir for a moment, and try to use each other for balance. Quick as a cat, the Dragon applies a GUILLOTINE! It's tight, because it was so unexpected! The crowd is in a frenzy wondering if Mox will tap! But the Death Rider forces himself to his feet, and swings back and forth for momentum, before LAUNCHING THE CHAMPION IN THE AIR! EUROPEAN UPPERCUT, THE CHAMP IS OUT! Mox takes in the ovation for a moment, before lifting Bryan up and hitting a non-elevated Paradigm Shift! Pin! 1, 2, kickout! Mox wastes no time at all, picking him up yet again! PARADIGM SHIFT! IT DOESN'T WORK, BRYAN LANDS BEHIND MOX AND HOOKS HIS ARMS, FORCING HIM DOWN! BRIDGE! CATTLE MUTILATION!!!!
Mox scrambles, trying not to pass out, as a bloody, crazed Danielson squeezes harder and harder! Jon shimmies all the way over to a rope, getting up to his knees a bit, and BARELY drapes a toe over the bottom rope, breaking the hold! As he gets up, Bryan runs the ropes and goes for a BUSAIKU KNEE! BUT MOX DROPS DOWN, AND DANIELSON FLIES OUT OF THE RING!!!! Mox darts to the top rope! CROSSBODY TO THE OUTSIDE!!!!
He rolls the champ back in, and quickly looks for another Paradigm Shift attempt, but Danielson sweeps his legs out from under him and starts stomping on his skull! This is BRUTAL! He picks Mox up! Runs the ropes! BUSAIKU KNEE!!!! But he's not done! Lifts the Purveyor of Violence to his feet again! A SECOND BUSAIKU KNEE! AND HE STILL WANTS ANOTHER ONE! MOX STRUGGLES TO GET TO HIS FEET, AND DEFIANTLY FLIPS BRYAN OFF, BUT HE CAN'T STOP A THIRD BUSAIKU KNEE!!!! COVER! 1, 2, 3! THAT'S IT, BRYAN DANIELSON IS STILL YOUR AEW WORLD CHAMPION AFTER A SHORT, BUT VIOLENT WAR!!!
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Jon Moxley (15:00)
(Authors's Note: Lee Moriarty won the Casino Battle Royale to win a shot at the AEW World Championship.)
AEW Dynamite - May 31st, 2023
We get a Lee Moriarty promo, hyping himself up.
"A lot of people saw me for the first time on Sunday, so yeah, it may have been a shocker that I won. But not to me. Nah, I wasn't surprised at all. I'm a strong believer in the fact that I'm one of the best wrestlers in the world. People talk a lot about the American Dragon, yeah? But soon, they'll be talking about the Tiger. Mox, Eddie and Homicide brought the Street Style. I'm bringing that TIGA-STYLE. All I need is one good night, and that belt will be coming home with me. Bryan Danielson, you better be ready. Because there's a very real chance, you'll just be an answer to a trivia question: Who did Lee Moriarty beat to become the AEW World Champion?"
AEW Rampage - June 9th, 2023
Lee Moriarty wins a match and the moment he goes backstage, he's ambushed by Bryan Danielson! The American Dragon throws him into the concrete wall, and as Moriarty slowly gets to his knees, Danielson knees his skull into the concrete! Medical staff check on Lee as Bryan gets ushered away.
AEW Dynamite - June 14th, 2023
It's announced that Bryan Danielson will have a non-title match against Carlie Bravo on next week's Dynamite.
AEW Dynamite - June 21st, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Carlie Bravo
This is a non-title match, but Danielson flaunts his belt all the way down the ramp. He looks a bit different, wearing white boots, white trunks, and a white jacket with "The American Dragon" written in red cursive print. He looks regal, and he projects cockiness.
The match itself is an absolute squash. Bryan only needs 2 minutes to win, and he finishes Bravo off with a simple Roundhouse Kick, but the message is simple: Bryan Danielson is not to be fucked with.
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Carlie Bravo (2:10)
AEW Rampage - June 30th, 2023
Bryan Danielson enters the building in a limo, but is immediately rushed by Lee Moriarty, who chokes him out and stuffs him right back into his car! Before closing the door, he tells Danielson, who is still unconscious, "I'll see you at Fyter Fest Night 1, bitch."
AEW Dynamite - July 5th, 2023
With their AEW World Championship Match taking place next week, we get a sit-down confrontation via satellite between Moriarty and Danielson.
BD: "Well, Lee, you got one over on me last week, good job. Make sure you savour your little 15 minutes of fame, because after what I do to you next week, you'll never reach those heights again."
LM: "Tough talk from someone that got choked out 5 days ago, but whatever."
BD: "You blindsided me, do that in a real match."
LM: "You blindsided me a few weeks before, it's the same shit! You know, when you beat Homicide, you talked about how you wanted the spotlight to go on young dudes. Now that I'm a threat, you switch up on me, you attack me and all that shit! You're a hypocrite. You talk about all the things you want, but you only want one thing, and that's a spotlight for yourself."
BD: "You know what, Lee? Maybe you're right. I want the spotlight, and I don't wanna share it. But that's because I'm the BEST. Nobody here can touch me, especially not someone like you who hasn't proven himself yet."
LM: "I won the Casino Battle Royale, I beat 20 guys to get this spot. All I need is to beat one more. You're just another pin to knock over, Bryan. That's it."
AEW Dynamite: Fyter Fest Night 1 - July 12th, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Lee Moriarty - AEW World Championship
Danielson comes out, and he has a grand entrance. An orchestra to play his theme, throngs of fans to welcome him. He treats this like a huge event. Meanwhile, Lee Moriarty has a simple entrance, throwing his Tiger mask into the crowd.
The match itself is very technical, with Danielson being VERY overconfident. He does surfboards while flexing, kicks while talking trash, and many other cocky things. Lee, however, fights like his life depends on it, hitting big combos, targeting Bryan' ribs a lot! Abdominal Stretches seem to be working out pretty well for him, but after a solid run by Moriarty, Danielson manages to take control again. A LeBell Lock with one fist raised in the air, and even with the braggadocio shown by the champ here, Lee has no choice but to tap out.
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Lee Moriarty (18:46)
AEW Dynamite: Fight For The Fallen - July 26th, 2023
Jay Lethal is backstage.
"Bryan Danielson has reverted back to his ROH days, it seems. Similar offense, same gear. He says he's the best, and he cosplays as his Ring Of Honor self to prove it. He fancies himself as the face of ROH. But he abandoned that company. I didn't. I was with it for longer than he ever was, and I loved it more. Basically, I'm trying to say that one of the things that Danielson hangs his hat on? I did it better. So I want a chance to prove that I can be better at being the AEW World Champ, too."
AEW Dynamite - August 2nd, 2023
Bryan Danielson has a response for Jay Lethal.
"You brought ROH up for no reason, and that's hilarious to me. The most important shit you've done was in a company that you're not a part of anymore. This is the present, and I'm doing much better than you. If you want a shot at this belt, you gotta earn it. In 2 weeks. Championship Eliminator Match. I'll be there."
AEW Dynamite - August 16th, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Jay Lethal - AEW World Championship Eliminator
If Jay wins this one, he gets a shot at the AEW World Championship. But Bryan hasn't lost in 2023 yet, and he's not looking to start now.
This is an absolute back-and-forth battle, a struggle. Danielson twists Lethal into knots, but Jay shows off his athleticism and gets the upper hand by overpowering Danielson, whether it's with shoulder tackles, lariats or spinebusters.
The finish comes when Bryan starts to piece Lethal up with kicks. To the leg, to the ribs, a few land to the head, and Lethal is slowing right down! Another big Roundhouse puts him on his back, and the American Dragon starts to laugh. He knows he has this under control! The champ backs up to his corner, he looks like he's about to line up a Busaiku Knee! Darts forward, dives into the air, AND JAY LETHAL CONNECTS WITH A SUPERKICK OUT OF MID-AIR! Scrambles to lift him up! LETHAL INJECTION! Doesn't go for the pin, preferring to pick him up again for good measure! A SECOND LETHAL INJECTION! COVER! 1, 2, 3!!!!!!! JAY LETHAL HAS HANDED BRYAN DANIELSON HIS FIRST LOSS OF 2023, EARNING A SHOT AT THE AEW WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!!
Jay Lethal def. Bryan Danielson (c) (17:33)
AEW Rampage - August 25th, 2023
Bryan Danielson sits backstage, looking angry.
"Well, Jay Lethal, you did it. You beat the great Bryan Danielson. Good job. You got yourself a shot at this belt right here. But here's the thing, Jay. I've been performing at the highest level for over 10 years now, and I haven't crumbled. You wanna know why I left ROH behind? I was onto bigger and better things. But you? You couldn't handle that. You could've left, but you didn't. You were content. I am NEVER content. That's the mark of a true Champion! At All Out, I'll show you why I made it out. It's because I'm the best wrestler to ever live! You're just the next guy to fall."
AEW Dynamite - August 30th, 2023
Jay Lethal airs a video package of him speaking spliced in with clips from his ROH days.
"You say that my ROH days are tainted, Bryan Danielson. You say I could've moved on, and that I didn't because I couldn't handle the pressure. But you know the truth? I didn't move on because it was home. ROH was my domain, the place where I was the ROH World Champ and TV Champ at the same damn time! But a little while ago, I showed you that I'm more than just hype. That's when I pinned you in the middle of the ring. On Saturday, history will repeat itself! You'll see that I am the competitor I am today, simply because I am also...a man of Honor."
AEW All Out - September 2nd, 2023
Bryan Danielson (c) vs. Jay Lethal - AEW World Championship
Jay Lethal comes out looking as confident as ever, knowing that he can beat Bryan Danielson, as he's done it before. Meanwhile, the champ looks a bit shaken, a bit off-guard.
The bell rings, and Jay steps into the centre of the ring, ready to lock up. Bryan looks tentative, but engages, and Lethal immediately shows that he's physically stronger than the champ by pushing him back towards the ropes. We get a clean break between the two, and they step back into the centre. Lethal gets a Hammerlock, but this is amateur hour for Bryan Danielson, who easily cartwheels, somersaults, and spins into a wristlock. Now that he's has control, he's a bit more at ease. But Lethal is no slouch, and he rolls out of it and hits a perfect dropkick, sending Bryan crashing to the mat!
The champ is frustrated, and Lethal eggs him on, telling him to "get your ass back up here." Danielson comes in with more force this time, and gets met with a high armdrag, executed perfectly. The Dragon gets up again, this time even more angrily, and runs right into a second armdrag! A third time, he gets up and charges forward, but stops just before he makes contact with Jay. Jay goes for the armdrag anyways, accidentally falling on the mat as a product of his own doing! Bryan goes for an Elbow Drop to capitalize, but Lethal deftly rolls out of the way, and Bryan hits the mat. Jay gets up roughly at the same time as the Champ, and throws a Discus Elbow that hits the American Dragon directly in the jaw! Cover! 1, kickout! This one is still getting going.
Bryan is even angrier now, pissed that he's getting outwrestled by Jay Lethal. He throws a Roundhouse to the body, but Lethal catches it and drives the point of his elbow right into the knee of the champ, causing him to shriek in pain! A few kicks to the knee, and Danielson rolls out to avoid further harm.
We can see the gears in his head turn as he thinks of a way to outsmart Lethal. Finally, a big grin appears on his face. He roots around under the ring, and picks up a Kendo Stick. Is he about to disqualify himself? As the ref pleads with him, Bryan reluctantly agrees and throws the weapon to the mat. But as the official turns to pick it up and throw it out of the ring, Bryan POKES JAY LETHAL RIGHT IN THE EYES! A takedown, and now he's free to throw Haymakers from Full Mount! What a dirty tactic! As the crowd chants "No! No! No!" the champion jokingly does "Yes!" motions to the dismay of the audience. Lethal reaches for his leg from the ground and he stomps on the challenger's hand!
Now that Bryan has the upper hand, he goes for his usual strategy of piecing his opponent up with kicks. To the legs to slow Jay down, to the body to make him less likely to hit power moves, and a few to the head in hopes of knocking Jay out. Danielson hits one of those Head Kicks, spinning Lethal around! Full Nelson! DRAGON SUPLEX! BRIDGE PIN! 1, 2, NO! Danielson is going to have to do more damage if he wants to win this match.
The American Dragon seems to be exploring creative options to put Jay away, and he climbs up to the top rope. He waits for Lethal to get up, he could be lining up for a Missile Dropkick! But Lethal quickly vaults up to the top, grabs Danielson's head for leverage, twists, and SENDS THE CHAMPION CRASHING DOWN TO THE MAT! The crowd knows what to expect here as Lethal is perched high above his opponent! MACHO MAN GESTURE! ELBOW DROP!!!! It takes a lot out of Jay, but he crawls to make the cover! 1, 2, KICKOUT! IT'S JUST NOT ENOUGH!!!
Jay is in a bad way, those deadly kicks from Danielson screwed him up pretty bad. But he lifts the champ up, wanting to keep fighting, needing to keep fighting. He puts Bryan in a Pumphandle Slam position, looking for something big here! Lifts him up! BRYAN LANDS IN A PERFECT SPOT FOR A DDT, AND HITS ONE! TRANSITIONS INTO A GUILLOTINE CHOKE! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MOVE!!! Lethal gasps for air, reaching for a rope! He's not gonna be able to get one! But he punches the champ right in the jaw, shocking him enough that Lethal can nudge his head out from Danielson's grasp. That was a close call!
As Jay gets up, Bryan goes for the patented Busaiku Knee! But like in their last match, Jay has it scouted, countering with a SUPERKICK OUT OF MID-AIR! PICKS THE CHAMP UP, LINES UP FOR A LETHAL INJECTION, JUST LIKE THE LAST TIME!!!
JAY BOUNCES OFF THE ROPES WITH A HANDSPRING, AND DIVES FOR A CUTTER! DANIELSON DIVES AS WELL, AND CATCHES HIS ADVERSARY WITH A CROSSFACE CHICKENWING OUT OF THE AIR!!!!! IT'S IN TIGHT!!!! Jay fights the hands, and manages to barely pull them off off his throat, managing to give himself JUST enough space to throw headbutts with the back of his head! He gets free!
They're back up now, and of course, Jay goes for another Lethal Injection! DANIELSON GRABS ONTO HIS SHOULDERS, PREVENTING HIM! Hooks the arms, CATTLE MUTILATION ATTEMPT! BUT LETHAL BREAKS FREE! ENZUIGIRI! HIT HIM SO HARD THAT DANIELSON ROLLS RIGHT OUT OF THE RING!!!!
Lethal musters up all of his energy for a Tope Suicida! PERFECT! BRYAN SMASHES UP AGAINST THE BARRICADE, AND GETS THROWN INTO THE RING! SET UP FOR A THIRD LETHAL INJECTION ATTEMPT!!! BOUNCE! HANDSPRING! CUTTER! IT CONNECTS!!!! BUT HE DOESN'T COVER HIM, NO!! HE WANTS TO HIT ANOTHER FOR GOOD MEASURE!!! BOUNCE! HANDSPRING! CUTTER! NOOOO, DANIELSON CATCHES HIS ARM!!!! INTO A LEBELL LOCK FROM THE CHAMP!!!!!!
Jay is struggling, but slowly inching towards the ropes! HE'S GONNA BREAK THE HOLD! NO, DANIELSON IS A TECHNICAL GENIUS, HE ROLLS LETHAL BACK TO THE CENTRE OF THE RING AND TIGHTENS THE LEBELL LOCK! HE'S IN TOO MUCH PAIN TO GO ON, LETHAL TAPS!!!!! AND STILL, THE AEW WORLD CHAMPION, BRYAN DANIELSON!!!!!!!!!!!
Bryan Danielson (c) def. Jay Lethal (20:23)

Hey everyone! This is technically Part 2 of Part 3 of this series! I accidentally wrote WAY too much for this part so I had to split it up. If you'd like to read the previous entries in the series, they'll be linked below. I will also continue using the 🎩 and 💎 to rate albums as either top-tier amongst the wave or hidden gems, respectively.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 1
Perhaps controversially, I’ve decided to cover Emo-Pop in this section. After all, much of the Emo-Pop movement is uniquely Third Wave, and many artists stayed relatively obscure. Besides, there’s no other part in the series that could reasonably contain this information, and Emo-Pop deserves its fair share of attention. Many artists on this list have incorporated elements of other genres into their music, including Pop Punk, Alternative, Indie Rock and Post-Hardcore, which speaks to the genre-invading nature of Third Wave Emo.
The very essence of this particular section may betray everything else I’m trying to do here, but I wanted to be comprehensive in my coverage of the genre. Besides, more Emo has never really been a bad thing, has it?

The Explosion of Emo-Pop

Northstar - Is This Thing Loaded? (2002)

Northstar - Is This Thing Loaded? (10/22/2002) Is This Thing Loaded? invokes that special early Vans Warped era, the time of Taking Back Sunday and Brand New starting to take over the industry. The youthful energy is captured in the rough production values with the guitar being a particular highlight. The very first song on the album is an instant classic, so even though the rest of the album fails to live up to those expectations, it’s still a super solid Emo-Pop album.
As a side note - Rigged and Ready supposedly really influenced TBS’s Cute Without the E, so perhaps we can at least partially attribute the immediate growth of Emo in the Third Wave to this band.

Newfound Interest in Connecticut - Less Is More or Less (2002)

Before compelling the world with their frigid take on the Post-Rock / Emo formula, Newfound Interest in Connecticut released a four-song EP in 2002. Unlike the brilliant soundscapes found on their LP, Less Is More or Less utilizies the Midwest Emo formula to craft Emo-Pop music. The vocals are more restrained and attempt poppier melodies, though the guitarwork and masterful drumming that the band would be known for is previewed on this EP quite nicely. If you’re looking for a Second Wave-esque Emo-Pop record or are just curious as to what the band used to sound like, look no further.

Moneen - Are We Really Happy With Who We Are Right Now? (2003) 💎

An adopter of the early Emo-Pop sound, Moneen as a band has a fascinating history as it relates to Third Wave Emo. The band came together in 1999, released a demo EP in 2000 and released their first full-length album in 2001. Perhaps this would mean they should be in the Second Wave section, but their forward-thinking Emo formula sounds fresh and “2000s,” for lack of a better term.
Emo-Pop influences on this album are subtle and mostly for the catchy verses and choruses. The production is reminiscent of a 90s Second Wave Emo record, giving Moneen a raw vibe on this album. Still, dynamic and time signature shifts occur regularly, showcasing the band’s penchant for writing a good Emo song. If you want to hear one of Canada’s very best Emo bands, please give this a listen.

The Movielife - Forty Hour Train Back to Penn (2003)

A fairly standard Pop-Punk / Emo-Pop combo from the fabled Long Island / New Jersey scene, The Movielife released music sparingly throughout the years but had only one release in the Third Wave officially. In the same vein as early Second Wave Emo artists, The Movielife consists of Hardcore kids who are trying to make non-Hardcore music but simply can’t escape their roots. This, of course, is only a huge positive as the spirit of Hardcore ensures this doesn’t become generic dreck. It’s a good album, but the bigger, faster songs tend to be the best on this record.

Breaking Pangaea - Phoenix (2003)

Breaking Pangaea is a little-known Emo band from Philly that came together at the turn of the century. After releasing their first LP in 2001, a traditional Midwest Emo affair, Phoenix would be the band’s final release. On this EP, Breaking Pangaea infused their sound with equal parts Emo-Pop, particularly in the guitar tone's crispness and the vocal melodies' poppiness. The results are infectious and feel distinctly 2000s.

Fresno - Quarto dos Libros (2003)

Simply put, Fresno is the biggest artist to come out of Brazil’s Emo scene. They’ve amassed 10 studio albums, numerous EPs, several live albums and tons of other recorded material. They are undoubtedly in that Jimmy Eat World position of playing Alternative after getting famous with Emo-Pop. Perhaps a band THIS BIG shouldn’t get coverage on this list, but even I’d never heard of Fresno before researching for this list, so I’d wager a lot of others need to know, too.
Their debut LP features a much rawer production sound than anything that came afterward, pairing their infectious Emo-Pop with Midwest Emo and Post-Hardcore elements. Notably, there was a dearth of Emo in Brazil when they formed and released this record, so it was groundbreaking in some ways. This is a rather auspicious start to a prolific career.

Hey Mercedes - Lose Control (2003)

From the ashes of legendary Midwest Emo band Braid comes Hey Mercedes, an Emo-Pop band that flirts with Power Pop. If you’re expecting Braid with catchier choruses, I’m sorry to disappoint. However, the melodic vocals will worm their way into your ears. Hey Mercedes’ second and final full-length album is a testament to the tortuous path Emo bands partake in; even with everything going for them, the band just never reached the heights they deserved.

Park - It Won't Snow Where you're Going (2003) 💎

Listening to Park in the context of Third Wave Emo is bittersweet; with their radio-ready melodies, combination of popular genres and high average song quality, they could have and should have reached mainstream popularity in the US. Fortunately, that doesn’t stop their existing music from kicking ass, and very few songs in their discography kick as much ass as the opening track to this LP.
This album takes the raw instrumental tones of Post-Hardcore and wraps them around a Pop-Punk skeleton with Emo as the connective tissue. Is that too artsy of a description? Maybe, but once you hear this album, you’ll understand where I’m coming from.

Halfway to Holland - Halfway to Holland (2003)

Peter Helmis and, to a slightly lesser extent, Joe Reinhart are absolute legends in Emo, not only for the sheer massive quantity of bands they’ve been a part of but for the consistently good quality each of their releases possesses. The two are primarily known for Algernon Cadwallader, The Cap’n Jazz of the Emo Revival, but have participated in numerous other excellent acts. The first of which, however, was Halfway to Holland, started all the way back in 2001!
After a demo LP, they came out with their self-titled album in 2003, mixing the youthful energy of Pop-Punk, the catchiness and structure of Emo-Pop and the rawness of Midwest Emo into a fairly straightforward package. Vocalist Peter Helmis sounds exactly as you’d think, though the guitarwork is more focused on quick chord progressions and easy leads rather than anything twinkly or mathy.

Northstar - Pollyanna (2004) 💎

After their heralded debut album, Northstar would release their second and final album in 2004 - Pollyanna. This album is likely legendary among Emo fans of this era, truly in a tier only below albums like Tell All Your Friends, Deja Entendu and …Is a Real Boy. Northstar took everything that worked on their first outing and made the entire album a consistently good journey. The Pop-Punk is balanced very well on this album, taking a backseat at times for softer songs.
Sadly, the band broke up after this album was released, depriving the world of more good jams.

Slingshot Dakota - Keener Sighs (2004)

Slingshot Dakota was founded by Carly Comando and two members of Emo-leaning Punkers Latterman in 2003 before releasing their debut album a year later. Keener Signs is heavily influenced by Rainer Maria’s take on the Indie and Emo combo, especially in the dual masculine/feminine vocals, though Emo-Pop is the dominant force on this record. Gorgeous piano riffing is accompanied by admirable drumming and a dynamic guitar that goes from chord progressions to Emo twinkles.
Following this album, the two former Latterman members left the band, leading to a fundamental change in the band’s sound. Their next album wouldn’t be released until 2008, though the Emo influence would diminish exponentially across each subsequent release.

The Kidcrash - New Ruins (2004)

New Ruins sees THE Kidcrash in an unrecognizable light compared to their other legendary LPs Jokes and Snacks. Prior to becoming a legend in the Screamo genre for their complex and technical music, The Kidcrash was another Emo-Pop hopeful reminiscent of bands like Underoath, but with a critical ear, you can suss out the subtle intricacy of the layered guitars and the mathy syncopation of the rhythm section. The vocals are admittedly underwhelming, especially when you know what the singer is capable of later in his career. Besides, these vocals were in vogue around the mid 00s, so it isn’t too unexpected.
If you want to hear the humble beginnings of a band that would go on to be legends in the scene, check out this artifact of Emo history.

Fresno - O rio, a cidade, a árvore (2004)

Brazil’s biggest Emo band continues their search for a core identity on this album, featuring significantly better production values and the slow shedding of their Midwest Emo and Post-Hardcore influences. While this is a fine album and the volume dynamics make this a great roadmap for Emo-Pop, it’s lacking that little something; their first album took advantage of the raw recordings and infused them with youthful energy. Their next album…well, let’s wait to talk about that one.

Fightstar - They Liked You Better When You Were Dead (2005)

Whilst Charlie Simpson was performing as one of the poster children for UK boy band Busted, he began to write some Post-Hardcore music to scratch his rock itch. However, he got REALLY involved and would leave Busted in 2005, a month before this debut EP was released. Prominently showcased is Simpson’s strong voice, showcasing an entirely different side than what fans of his were used to. Moody Post-Hardcore is the basis of the music, but most melodic elements are derived from Emo-Pop. If for nothing else than novelty, I’d suggest checking out this stellar debut EP and the LPs that would follow.

Gatsbys American Dream - Volcano (2005)

With more than their fair share of Pop Punk seeping from the album, Volcano is one of the slickest Emo-Pop albums around. Gatsbys American Dream has reached their final form on their third LP, eschewing the more frenzied Pop Punk concoction to forge the perfect Pop Punk / Emo-Pop mixture. The production values, particularly in the sleek guitar tones, are quite polished and allow for both distorted and clean moments to shine. With several other albums that all came out during this time period, I’d recommend you check these Seattle natives out, though be aware this is probably their truest Emo-Pop effort.

Fresno - Ciano (2006) 🎩

Fresno has never sounded so confident, so sure of themselves as songwriters and performers than on this third full-length album. Traces of Midwest Emo and Post-Hardcore remain, but only as over-the-shoulder guides that ensure Fresno doesn’t stray too far from the very ethos of the genre. The melodies on offer here will get stuck in anyone’s head, regardless of what language you speak. Each note of the singer’s voice seems meticulously crafted around the enormous anthemic music, yet confusion, loneliness and anger seep through the euphony.
Simply put, this is what Emo-Pop is all about: taking the emotional catharsis of Emo and blending it into a palatable product. Indeed, this album launched Fresno into Brazil’s stratosphere. Fresno would start incorporating more and more elements of Alternative Rock into their music, effectively making this their last pure Emo-Pop album. It sure is one Hell of a way to go out, though.

Park - Building A Better _____ (2006)

Park gives it one more go on their final studio album, flirting with experimentation along the way. This is perhaps their most varied album as a result, but also one that lacks the strength in identity as their other releases. Still, Park produces some of their very best songs on here.
Building a Better is a monument to the wonder of Emo, showcasing a band with all the talent, songwriting and opportunity to jump into superstardom, only for obscurity to be their fate ultimately. Bands like this are why I write about this amazing music scene.

Moneen - The Red Tree (2006)

Following up on two acclaimed LPs, an EP and a Split with Alexisonfire was never going to be an easy task for Moneen, but after signing with Vagrant Records, Moneen released a cohesive album that’s at least as good as their previous stuff. The beautiful combination of Emo, Emo-Pop and 90s-era Post-Hardcore remains a winner for Moneen, but the lack of a true standout track amongst a sea of really good ones does mean this album isn’t quite as memorable as it should be. Regardless, this is Canada’s best Emo band for a reason.

The Graduate - Anhedonia (2007)

When The Graduate was around, there were comparisons made to Jimmy Eat World - and rightfully so! The band oozes melody and catchiness like no other, especially in the earworm choruses. Their second and final LP, Only Every Time, was analogous to Bleed American, so does that make Anhedonia this band’s Clarity? Not quite, failing to capture the magic of Only Every Time, but as a debut album goes, The Graduate really swung for the fences. If you enjoy extraordinarily captivating vocal performances or Emo-Pop with Alternative and Pop Rock influences, check this one out! Be warned that there’s very little edge to be found on this record.

Counterfit - Super Amusement Machine for Your Exciting Heart (2007)

Early Emo-Pop from Connecticut, Counterfit only released one full-length album in 2002 after a few EPs before calling it quits in 2004. However, we should all be so grateful that they released anything at all! Simple and dirty Emo-Pop / Midwest Emo with just enough edge to capture the hearts of those fans of the early 00s era of Emo. There isn’t anything you haven’t heard before on here, but worthy of a listen nonetheless.

Johnny Foreigner - Waited Up ‘Til It Was Light (2008) 🎩

Exuberant, youthful, manic and catchy are just a few of the many descriptors that can be said about Johnny Foreigner’s exemplary debut LP. Three years after their first demo showcased the band’s Post-Rock writing chops, this release illustrates the band’s evolution into a premier Emo-Pop band. The dual male-female vocals greatly add to the diversity on display here with strong hints of Indie Rock, Pop Punk and even Math Rock. No two songs are alike, proving the songwriting in this band is exceptional.
Johnny Foreigner would go on to be one of the most prolific Emo / Indie artists in the UK, having released four more studio albums, numerous EPs and lots of other material. However, despite this legendary Emo-Pop output, the band would never quite reach the lofty heights of this debut LP. If you’re going to check out any Emo-Pop on this list, you should let it be this one.
Finally, I’ve reached the point where I’m all out of clever sections and cute titles. These last few releases are all Emo releases that defy categorization based on what I’ve already written about. Simply put, this final section of Part Three is entitled:

Other Uncategorized Emo

Desaparecidos - Read Music/Speak Spanish (2002) 💎

Many probably know the story of Bright Eyes’ frontman Conor Oberst’s OTHER band, but I’ll give you the quick and dirty if you don’t; Conor intended Desaparecidos to be his secondary band before Bright Eyes unexpectedly took off like crazy, dashing those plans. And it’s a shame since Read Music/Speak Spanish is cooler and more Emo than any of Conor’s other music. Emo with strong Punk leanings, Desaparacidos plays with anger pumping through their veins, to a level just below that of someone like Cursive.
Oberst’s vocal delivery carries strength and rage, highlighted by the frantic guitar riffs and active rhythm section. This doesn’t sound like a lot of other Emo music that came before it, even if it doesn’t do anything particularly innovative. If political-leaning Emo is your thing or you’re just pissed off about the United States, give this a listen.

Kickball - Huckleberry Eater (2003)

Kickball, a trio of Olympia natives, released their eclectic first album in 2003, combining docile Indie Rock with very subtle elements of Math Rock. The Emo influence on this one isn’t as pronounced as it is in future releases, but Huckleberry Eater radiates with awkwardness and depression from every corner. If you enjoy offbeat, slightly downer Emo with very little in the way of hard structure, check this out!

Bear vs Shark – Right Now, You’re in the Best of Hands. And If Something Isn’t Quite Right, Your Doctor Will Know in a Hurry (2003)

I know what you’re thinking: Bear vs. Shark isn’t an Emo band, they’re Post-Hardcore! Well, they are Post-HXC, but they infuse it with a generous heaping of Emo, reminiscent of 90s At the Drive-In. The messy, noisy Post-Hardcore moments are perfectly juxtaposed next to the cleaner, more melodic Emo-leaning sections.
Although Emo and Post-Hardcore was a popular combination during the Second Wave, this band eschewed tradition with this release and crafted something far more modern and 2000s-sounding, for lack of a better term. From the production to the songwriting choices, this album represents a tiny window in 2000s history.

Desert City Soundtrack - Funeral Car (2003) 💎

From the first few seconds of this album, you could be forgiven for thinking this was some generic piano-driven Indie Rock, but you’ll reward yourself for continuing to listen as Funeral Car is an unexpectedly unique slice of Emo history. The piano lulls the listener into a false state of peace, but the piano doesn’t define the music found here, it’s the other way around; the piano is merely a tool to emphasize the tone, tempo and volume dynamics at play in this eclectic combination of songs.
The softer, Indie-leaning sections often give way to frenetic Post-Hardcore sections comprised of screaming and total instrumental upheaval. Following this up may be a serene trumpet melody or subdued vocal passage. If you like this, they also have an EP from 2002 that is a tad heavier overall.

Purplene - Purplene (2004) 💎

Purplene’s self-titled LP is also their final one, but they prove themselves to be quintessential OzzEmo (I hope the Australians don’t kill me for that…). Somewhat reminiscent of The Jim Yoshii Pile-Up due to their combination of melancholy Midwest Emo and smooth Slowcore, Purplene also adds in elements of Math Rock with shifting time signatures and Post-Rock with extended instrumental passages. What’s left in the rubble is a uniquely-crafted work of Emo history.
If you like your Emo to be more on the bummer side of the spectrum and love really polished guitarwork, this is definitely one that you can’t miss.

Colossal - Welcome the Problems (2004) 🎩

To Chicago-area Midwest Emo fans, Colossal is the faint but familiar name of a legendary band that came and went during Midwest Emo’s lowest period. Comprised of Chicago Punk royalty, Colossal’s debut LP is an experience unlike any other. Some of the most virtuosic guitar playing in the entire genre of Emo can be found on this album, enough to make any Kinsella brother blush.
Speaking of Kinsella, Colossal sounds like American Football if they actually rocked out instead of sticking to the softer Indie Rock-influenced stuff. Pat’s singing voice is also quite distinct among Emo, showcasing a lower register than average. If you enjoy Midwest Emo, proficient instrumentals and incredible songwriting, this is a must-listen.

The Progress - Golden State (2004)

The original band for Chicago-based Emo legend Evan Weiss (of Into It. Over It., Their / They’re / There and Pet Symmetry fame), The Progress released one fairly rough s/t EP in 2001 before coming out with Golden State in 2004. Traditional Midwest Emo with noticeable Pop Punk influences, this EP is the evolution of Second Wave Emo, especially in the vein of bands like The Get Up Kids. Though it isn’t anything wholly original or an essential release, the volume dynamics and amazingly catchy vocal performances will ensure this stays with you for a while.

Shinobu - Herostratus vs Time (2004)

Shinobu is an interesting artifact of time; One of the founders, Matt Keegan, is a frequent friend and collaborator with Jeff Rosenstock, even having him on a Shinobu album at some point. They are also seen as a very influential band to artists like Joyce Manor and PUP, in no small part due to their debut album’s eclectic and somewhat depressing combination of Slacker Rock and Midwest Emo.
This LP never quite takes off to the races, but the constant bummer tempo, combined with the sunny facade that fails to convince the listener that anyone in this band is a happy person, ensures their place in Indie Punk history. Though Shinobu would release a fair few more albums, including another wonderful LP in 2006, the Emo influences would be hit or miss from that point onward.

Slingshot Around the Moon - This Is Who We Are (2004)

The importance of music preservation is often diminished, especially when it comes to niche, local or otherwise unknown stuff. However, I think that’s what’s so beautiful about it; take Slingshot Around the Moon as a prime example. For a long time, most of the very few listeners of this band assumed they’d only released five songs total. However, including demos, remixes and live performances, the band has over three hours of stuff!
This Is Who We Are is the cleanest, most complete release of everything discovered so far. Taking Midwest Emo and adding in bleak elements of Post-Hardcore, this album is as jumpy as it is brooding. If you prefer faster-paced chord-heavy Emo with a 2000s feel, check this EP out, as well as this band’s other material.

Eniac - All That's Left of Us (2005)

To most Emo fans, Eniac is an unknown, a band name in a nebulous sea of band names. To Emos of the early 2000s in Denton, Texas, Eniac are local legends. Though their first and only LP was released in 2005, they’d long been disbanded by then and the record had already been recorded years prior. The style and production owe quite a bit to Second Wave Emo, but there’s something a little more “modern” about them, for lack of a better term.
The lyrics might be a bit shallow, the instrumentation slightly simple. However, like any good Emo, you can always feel the passion emanating from their music. To those with special memories of Eniac playing under a starry Texas night, these songs will always hold a special place in their heart.

Meneguar - I Was Born AT Night (2005)

Formerly named Sheryl’s Magnetic Aura, a pretty standard Midwest Emo band, they changed their name in 2004 to Meneguar and never looked back. After a demo that same year, they released their first full-length LP - I Was Born At Night. Cohesively fusing mid-00s Indie Rock with twinkly Midwest Emo like the genres were long lost brothers, Meneguar perfect this combination. Dancey songs with beautiful Emo riffs and volume dynamics populate this 30-minute release.
Sadly for us, their Emo influence would fade significantly on subsequent releases, making this their best. However, I’d still highly recommend giving at least this album a listen and their future works if you’re into Indie Rock.

Million Dead - Harmony No Harmony (2005)

Before becoming a certified Folk legend, Frank Turner found himself in a UK-based Post-Hardcore band named Million Dead. After a noisy and chaotic first album that saw them dip their toes into Emo waters, Million Dead returned in 2005 with their second LP with significantly more Emo influence, I’d say 50/50 with Post-Hardcore. The boisterousness found on A Song to Ruin remains a fixture on this album, but the Emo influence allows for more contrast with moments of clean serenity.
Frank Turner does belt out some gnarly screams on this album, but his use of melody and bombast has significantly improved, previewing why he’s attained such a large cult following over the years. Check out both of these albums - they’re both worth it, even if their first is only questionably Emo.

The Progress - Merit (2005)

If you enjoyed Golden State by Chicago’s own The Progress, you’ll enjoy this one. The traditional Midwest Emo elements - mixed in excellently with Pop-Punk influence - are all written and performed beautifully. What Merit does as an album is showcase how you can have memorable melodies in a radio-friendly framework without dipping into the increasingly popular Emo-Pop well. If you’re looking for some really solid Emo to add to your collection, check this one out.

Desert City Soundtrack - Perfect Addiction (2005)

Perfect Addiction is a perfect example of what many in the Indie Rock scene would call “maturity.” The songwriting is generally softer and more focused, though at the loss of some truly unhinged musical moments. The piano is more prominent as ever, flaunting the Indie influences highly on this album. The batshit crazy stuff found on Desert City Soundtrack’s debut LP is mostly lost in translation, though some heaviness still remains. Overall, I’d say this isn’t as good as their first album, but more of something this unique is always a good thing.

Kickball - ABCDEFGHIJKickball (2005) 💎

After releasing their mellowed-out debut LP with questionable amounts of Emo influence, Kickball followed up with a Midwest Emo album that’s simultaneously more experimental and more straightforward than Huckleberry Eater. This album features more fun Emo riffs, intricate drum patterns and overall a more dynamic song structure. If you weren’t a fan of the more subdued first album, this one utilizes a more traditional approach to Emo songwriting.

The Vermicious Knid - Smalltown Devotion/Hometown Compulsion (2005)

Smalltown Devotion is the sole full-length album from The Vermicious Knid, offbeat Emos from Ontario, Canada. The band is named after an obscure species in the works of Roald Dahl, so you can expect that sort of wackiness in the music as well. With dual-male vocalists, relatively raw production and a dancey backbone, this album really has to be heard to be believed. The band also has an EP they released in 2002 that previews the weirdness to come.

8-Bit Revival - Under the Fairweather (2006)

Four years after their debut EP Up & Atom, which we covered in the first part of the series, 8-Bit Revival returns with their first full-length Under the Fairweather. While perhaps this could also have belonged in the same section, I found this to be a bit more unique and “2000s” so I’m putting it here. The dingy Post-Hardcore vibes remain but are accompanied by fresher songwriting and a generous use of synths.

Owen - At Home With Owen (2006) 🎩

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention one of the most important figures in Emo history in this section: Mike Kinsella. For those who don’t know, Mike Kinsella’s legacy is crucial to the development of the genre; he was the drummer for Cap’n Jazz, the lead singer and guitarist of American Football and is a featured member in bands like Joan of Arc and Their / They’re / There. However, his most prolific series of work is as a solo artist under the name Owen.
Now people can argue all they want about whether or not this music is truly Emo, Indie Rock, Indie Folk or anything else, but I’m an AcousticEmo believer and this release is its quintessential album. Mike’s jazzy approach to instrumentation creates interesting and dynamic interactions between multiple instruments. At Home With Owen is perhaps his best and most memorable work, but he’s also released countless other LPs, EPs, splits and compilations over the years, including in the Third Wave.

Dear and the Headlights - Small Steps Heavy Hooves (2007) 💎

Perhaps Equal Vision Records doesn’t count as “Underground,” but Dear and the Headlights might just be the biggest and best band that no one has heard of. Combining Midwest Emo with Indie Rock and Folkish elements proves to be a refreshing, original and poignant take on the Emo formula; the usual loud-quiet dynamics that characterize Emo are here with a vocalist that scales with them. Ian Metzger serenades the listener with soft vocals during the cleaner, lighter parts of the album while the crescendos showcase how powerful his voice can get.
The warm, bittersweet tones create a sense of longing, accompanied by lyrical content revolving around heartbreak. While not groundbreaking, it’s done with earnestness and passion, not to mention some quality melodies. If you wanna sing your post-breakup feelings with all of your heart, learning these songs is a must.

Dartz! - This Is My Ship (2007)

One thing before I start - has anyone seen Dartz! and Bloc Party in the same room? Or do all British Indie-Adjacent bands sound like “that?” Either way, Dartz! takes that British Indie Rock formula, mixes it with a healthy dose of Math Rock and produces unique Emo goodness. The Mathy riffs almost make this one feel like Proto-Revival stuff, but the Indie Rock structure and tone keep this from sounding too similar to other such UK acts. Much like Bloc Party, vocalist William Anderson injects his lyrics with tons of melody and catchiness. Overall, this is an interesting take on the Emo formula and is worth your time if you think it sounds good.

Kickball - Everything is a Miracle Nothing is a Miracle Everything Is (2007)

Is there a more idiosyncratic Third Wave Emo band than Kickball? Huckleberry Eater in 2003 was a soft-Indie Midwest Emo project and ABCD was a slightly off-kilter Emo release, so where does that leave this, their final album? Believe it or not, Everything is a Miracle balances the two dominant sounds quite well while radiating with more emotion than on either of their previous records. The eccentricity reaches new heights with experimental production techniques, oddball instrumental sections and an admirable carelessness that allows the songs to flow naturally together.
Kickball would cease releasing new music after this, right before the Emo Revival rolled around. The band existed entirely in Emo’s Third Wave, embracing the kind of sounds that would characterize some Fourth Wave bands. They missed their chance to be a hidden gem of the Emo Revival, but I hope that you listen to at least one of their albums.

Dear and the Headlights - Drunk Like Bible Times (2008)

Following up on Small Steps Heavy Hooves was never going to be easy - Emo bands LOVE coming out with an amazing first album before either dropping off the face of the Earth or create a poor, unmemorable follow-up album. Dear and the Headlights, however, does an admirable job staving away this stereotype with Drunk Like Bible Times, releasing only a year after their debut. Is it as Emo as their previous LP? Not quite for the album leans slightly more into its Indie Rock influences this time around. However, the passion and the emotion is present in spades on this record and that alone is worth a listen.
Unfortunately, the group would disband some time after this album, never releasing another record aside from their two legendary outings.

Kumarenino - Tren camino a casa, mis errores y el numero 7 (2008)

Hailing from Mexico, Kumarenino is an obscure Emo band that came about during Emo's rise to prominence in the 2000s. They play traditional Midwest Emo with generous infusions of Indietronica. Their experimentation with electronic elements could be tied to the Emo-Pop explosion in Emo's mainstream period, but they are played in a way that reminds me of Fifth Wave Emo or Brave Little Abacus. Give these experimental Emos a listen!
That's it for this one! It took me such a long time to finish this one because it was a double part. As always, please let me know if I missed anyone on this list. On the next and final installment, we'll see the transition from Third to Fourth Wave Emo.

CHAPTER 1
A gloomy rain fell down from the steely grey clouds above England, creating puddles in pot holes and mud pits in mounds of dirt. The small english town of Derry had been flooded before, and the townspeoples fears of another had put everyone on edge. Nobody dared utter the word though, their superstitions wouldn't allow that. People in Derry were well known for their superstitious and cagey behavior, but this was not entirely unwarranted. It wasn't just a flood here and there once in a while in Derry, they had a long and colorful past with all types of disasters, some man made, others acts of god.
There was the great black spot fire of 1979, in which a white supremacist group burnt down a local disco predominantly visited by Derry's small black and latino community, accidentally torching half the town down in the process. In 1952 there was the expansive national ASDF league shoot out, which lasted a total nine hours in the Derry town square before the police finally got the upper hand and killed every gang member on sight. But the most horrific of all was in 1925, when the Derry ironworks exploded, killing all it's workers as well as everyone participating in the annual Derry christmas parade nearby, most of which were children.
These were just a few of the horrific events Derry township had gone through, and bizzarely, no matter how gruesome each event was, none were ever on the news or remembered too well. That was just how Derry worked, despite it's reputation as a sleepy, dreary town where nothing much ever happened, tragedies were rampant. So you couldn't quite blame the people for being superstitious and scared, especially in autumn when the weather was at it's absolute worst. It was late autumn now though, there was only about four more days till winter, and the worries of floods would soon turn into worries for blizzards, and people were certain the worst of the worst had already came and went.
On this fine rainy saturday in a white two story house, Tom Denbrough was sitting upstairs, doing what he did everyday, writing songs. He'd been wrestling with an awful case of influenza the past few days, hocking up phlegm and wiping snot from his nose every few minutes 'til it was rubbed raw. He had not much energy for anything else because of it, all he could muster the strength to do now was lay in his checkered, tissue covered bed sheets, and wait for his mother to bring him chicken noodle soup and sprite to ease his churning tummy.
It wasn't too bad though, a lot of people can't stand being alone, but Tom often thrived in solitude. Ever since he was a kid he'd taken a liking to it, he was "introverted" as some one would like to say, but back then introverts were seen as more of a problem than just a thing you could be. It felt odd for him to say "ever since he was a kid" as if he wasn't still a kid now, but he technically wasn't. He'd bid farewell to such a label by september, and swapped out the childish number twelve to the unlucky number thirteen, and Tom still wasn't so sure if he was happy with that.
He didn't quite feel like an adult, and people still had yet to treat him as such, but Tom had his own suspicions about that. He knew there was more reason than just him still being a minor, because the truth of the matter was that everyone enjoyed babying him because of his condition.
He was disabled, dis-abled, the word making him feel weird even now. Before Tom was called such a thing he had considered the word disabled to exclusively mean people in wheelchairs, missing legs, or some of the really out there stuff like conjoined twins. He never pictured disabled meaning some on like him, a boy with a bad stutter but a healthy body and brain. Perhaps that was closed minded of him, but alas, Tom was only thirteen, and his scope of reference for the world was much smaller than he pretended it to be.
Even the doctors in Derry didn't treat him all that compassionately, insisting to both him and his mother that he must have been "slow" in some way, but just hiding it, no matter what he or his parents said. It took Tom fighting tooth and nail just to get out of special Ed. which was basically just four kids in a classroom asked to do elementary level shit because the teacher did not believe they were capable of more. He still had to go to regular speech therapy though, which Tom loathed since in all his years of going it seemed to have done him no favors.
He still stuttered, barely getting through sentences without stumbling over at least one word, and getting even worse whenever he felt nervous or scared. That was probably the worst part about it, Tom had never liked being emotional or letting people know he was affected by things, especially when kids at school enjoyed getting a rise out of him. His panicked little drawn out "bu-bu-bu-bu-" sounding like sweet music to his tormentors ears. It was nearly possible for him to hide his feelings or keep his cool whenever he was scared, because that stupid god damn stutter was like a built in lie detector.
He didn't know where the stutter had came from, there were theories here and there, but none of them ever made him feel better. The most likely one involved a car rear ending him when he was only a toddler, knocking him into a coma but miraculously not killing him. He was in it for only a few weeks, but emerged with his stutter, which of course young and niave Tom didn't understand would cause him so much trouble later down the line.
Because Tom didn't like to talk much, he spent a lot of time writing music in his room, his lyrics were all very hamfisted and schlocky, but for a thirteen year old boy they were quite good, and would only get better the more with age. He loved music, lived and breathed it, specifically the sounds of motown records, funk, rap, rock and roll, all the sorts. He had to keep that all a secret from his mother though, she was a musical elitist of sorts. She went to a fancy schamncy music school and had been teaching piano to students for years, so she had a hard time enjoying anything that wasn't classical or something their grandma would listen to.
When Tom went out to buy a bass he had to mow a crap ton of lawns and convince his dad to keep it a secret from mom, but it was well worth all the effort. He only got to play it when she was away at work, never daring to smuggle it out of the house and go busk unless some one decided to be an asshole and tell her. But he loved his bass more than anything, he even gave her a name, since Tom figured all rock stars named their instruments. He chose Susan, after the families first and only dog they had when he was little, and it seemed to stick. Ever since then Tom had remained adamant that you couldn't play an intrument with out giving it a name first.
Even though he enjoyed writing music, and it was the thing that made him the most happy, there was still a slight underlying sadness to it whenever he'd play. He'd lwanted to be a rock star ever since he first heard Van Halen and fell in love with the sound, but with that dream also came the knowledge it'd never happen. Afterall, who the hell would wanna hear him on a record? Stuttering all over the place, stumbling over words, heck, people would send in complaints that how their brand new records were scratched and skipping. There was nobody like him on the radio, and that painful truth kept him from ever singing to anybody but a very small and select audience. And by audience, he meant his stuffed teddy bear and little brother, absolutely no one else.
Speaking of which, his very small audience was on his way up stairs, stomping like a clydesdale despite their mothers constant reprimands about it. Jon knocked on Tom's bedroom door, then immediately pushed it open without being invited in. He was only six, so things like boundries and personal space were not so ingrained him. Neither was self conciousness, maliciousness, or the ability to not be incredibly annoying, but Tom tried very hard to not hold that last one against him. He scanned the room with wide and curious eyes, like he had just stumbled upon a new and foreign world despite being in here many times before.
He loved Tom's room, he loved it more than his own. He thought it was so cool and groen up how he had band posters on his walls. There was a ton of other cool stuff too like a nintendo 64 he'd sometimes let him play, a drawing desk, and a heap of awesome clothes he said he could have when he got bigger! It was a lot cooler than his own bedroom, which was fairytale prince themed and had his half finished lego projects strewn all about, but he still liked his room well enough.
Tom looked up from the note book he was currently writing on and wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve. "Whuh-what d-do you want?" Asked Tom, a little curt. He was good at being polite and caring to Jon most of the time, he was only six afterall, he couldn't go around screaming at him, but it was harder to be patient with him when he was working on something.
Jon ran up to Tom, as if right on cue and looked up to him with needy adoring eyes that seemed to soften his attitude. "Toooom, I'm very sad..." Jon complained, and Tom rolled his eyes. He forced a smile and put the pencil he was writing with down "Oh yeah? are you actu-u-ually sad or just buh-bored?". Jon giggled at how blunt he was being "I'm sad and boreeeed.". Tom leaned closer to Jon's face, but not too close since he was still sick and didn't want him to catch it. "Sad peop-puh-puh-ple don't giggle, moron." He said, booping Jon on the nose with his index finger, causing him to erupt into another giggle.
If their mother was here in the room with them she'd no doubt say "Thomas! Stop calling your brother a moron!" Then lightly smack him on the back of the head, not enough to actually hurt but enough to knock some sense into him. Jon didn't mind it at all though, he saw it as just his brother being silly with him, and he'd always call Tom names right back. "You're a cheesehead." Jon said, biting down on his tongue and smiling. "You're a buh-buttbrain." Tom retorted. "You're a cakesniffer!" Jon exclaimed. "You're an A-ho-hole." Jon went silent at that. That was a no no word, well, not quite, but almost. Mom and dad were very strict about no no words, although he heard Tom say them all the time over the phone when he wasn't supposed to be listening.
Suddenly, another wave of laughter came from him, so loud and hearty he had to hold his belly like santa while he laughed. "You're an A-hole!" Jon said, still laughing. The two boys then launched into a big silly argument of who was the bigger A-hole, eventually ending with Tom proclaiming Jon's A-hole was bigger than the entire continent and both the boys giggling like mad. "Now guh-go away puke stuh-stain, i'm sick and I don't want you to catch it." Tom said, smiling and gently shooing his brother away. "Waiiiit! Peas Tommy, play me a song!" Jon begged, putting his hands together like he was praying.
"It's p-puh-please, not peas, Jon. B-besides, I can't sing, my voice is too hoarse and my stuh-stuh-stuh-" Tom closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself. "I'm terrible singer." He continued. "No you're nawt! you're an amazing singer! Peas, just one song?" Jon pleaded. "Play me the one about the kid who grows up to be a superhero! Peas peas peas peaaaasss?". Tom shook his head "No can do, kid. Go b-buh-bug some one else before you catch my-" he sneezed into his elbow, grossing his little brother out. "Eugh... cold." Tom grumbled.
"There's nothing to do thoooouuugh." Jon complained, crossing his arms in a huff. "Why don't you go bug mom or dad?" "Mommy's practicing piano and daddy's trying to get the electricity back on..." he mumbled, a little sad. The constant rain and thunder had knocked out a lot of the houses in their neighborhood's power and still had yet to kick back on. The Denbrough boys were quite lucky to have their father with them, he was amazing when it came to things that involved a screwdriver or a wrench, and you'd never guess it by looking at him.
He'd hardly wear anything but Hawaiian pineapple shirts and socks with sandals, but he was still a very smart man none the less. He worked for their town's electrical company, and Tom could still remember the look of pride he had during career day in primary school when he told everyone his dad was responsible for keeping the town's power in check. It was quickly dashed when some asshole decided to ruin it by asking if his dad slept on the job and zapped him on accident and that's why he "Couldn't talk right.". The worst part of it was that Tom was pretty sure he didn't mean for it to be an insult, and was just genuinely asking it out of ignorance. He deeply hoped wherever that kid was now, he was in great pain.
Their mothers piano playing should have been obvious to Tom, it was loud and carried it's way all through out the house, even up the stairs, but it seemed to be just background noise at this point. He hadn't noticed it until now, but his mother was playing much faster than usual, she was in the "zone" so to speak, and wanted to hold onto that for as long as she could, so both Jon and Tom were shit out of luck. Tom sighed "Jeez." He leaned back into his pillows and thought for a moment, shoving all the gross snot filled tissues and crumpled up rejected lyrics from his first few failed attemps at writing a new song.
Jon awkwardly shifted around on his feet, swinging his arms side to side as if waiting for further instruction on what to do. "It's a damn sh-shuh-shame that it's raining so bad or else you could play outside." Jon nodded, and sighed, genuinely disappointed by the amount of rain. Suddenly, Tom snapped his fingers and rose up from his bed "H-hold on- I just remembered s-omething.". He quickly grabbed a folded up newspaper that his mom had left on his night stand for him to read, then ripped out one of the pages.
"What are you doing Tom?" Innocently asked Jon. He straightended it out and folded it into a triangle shape, sticking his tongue out like he was hard at work. "I'm muh-makin you a p-puh-puh-aper boat, just like dad taught me how to do when I was s-six." He explained. Jon's face lit up "Wow, really!?" he waddled over to the bed and smiled. "Yep, dad and I used to sail these all the time. Do me f-f-fuh-fav-or and go in the basement and bring back some puh-puh-puh-puh-" Tom paused again and forced another smile. "Paraffin. It's in a little b-box that says gulf." he finished.
"You mean... in the basement?" Jon mumbled, suddenly a little intimidated. "Yes, you're not scared are you?" His brother asked, half amused and half concerned. On one hand, it was very cute that Jon felt the need to impress him and pretend to be tough, on the other, he was barely not a toddler anymore, and Tom didn't wanna scare him on purpose. Jon shook his head "No i'm not scared, being scareds for babies. I can do it.". "O-o-okay, but j-just in case... here." He handed him a walkie-talkie, the kind they'd usually use to communicate whenever they'd pretend to be soldiers on the battlefield together during summer.
"C-cuh-call me if you need me." he instructed, and Jon nodded again. He skipped happily to the door, only stopping whe Tom called out "And remember Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-". "Paraffin, I know!" Jon cheerfully replied, figuring if he didn't say it Tom would be stuck on the p's forever. He shut the door and hopped down the stairs, leaving Tom to his very important task of sitting in bed and sneezing. He only waited 'til after Jon was gone to let his smile drop and chastise himself for not actually saying the word. He'd never show Jon just how much he loathed his stutter, especially since Jon found it cool and Tom didn't wanna ruin the magic of it.
When he first learned how to talk he'd constantly immitate it, which naturally caused their parents some fear that the stutter was genetic or could be "caught" so to speak. Jon had no idea how much Tom hated his stutter, how it made people see him, how it actively dashed his dreams. Sometimes at school he'd get so flustered he'd have to clutch his desk and try so very hard to form a sentence and it still wasn't cohesive.
He was not and never would be just Tom Denbrough to his classmates, or even his teachers, although they'd never admit that. He was Stuttering Tom, Tuh-Tuh-Tuh-Tom to the particularly cruel ones, and Tom hated it. The absolute worst part of being in a situation like Tom's was no doubt the inability to open up about how much you dislike yourself. After all, preteen boys are already closed off, especially so in a small rural town like Derry where the homophobes outnumbered the gay community ten to two, but Tom had it the worst.
Nobody wants to be the guy to come out and say you think stuttering makes you a freak, all you'd really do is bring other disabled people down and raise up the dickheads who instilled that self hatred in him to begin with, but that's how he felt ans he couldn't help that. He was sure that's how his parents felt too, they did love him dearly and saw to almost all his needs 24/7, but they were still eagerly waiting for him to stop the stutter, and had so for a long time.
The doctors told him it'd only stick around for a few years after he got over the shock of the coma, but that date came and went, and still, Tom's stutter remained. You could tell they were both disappointed, and he truly could not blame them, because he was disappointed too. He didn't know what was wrong with him, or why he never got better despite countless visits to the speech therapist, but he began to wonder if there was something incredibly wrong with him. Everyone felt that way, even if they pretended like they didn't, everyone except for Jon that is. Jon adored him with or without the stutter, and Tom was supremely thankful for that.
While Tom continued to chastise himself, Jon hopped down the stairs joyfully. So joyfully, he nearly forgot that he'd be going down to the cellar, where dreams and little boys would surely go to die. He dashed through the house, past his mom's prized women's bowling league trophy's, past the grand piano, and past their big fancy living room he and Tom would solve puzzles in.
He threw open the cellar door and stared down at the abyss in front of him, fianlly letting the fear and anxiety settle in. Rickety, paint chipped stairs with large empty gaps of space between them disappeared off into the darkness of the room, the power still not back on despite their fathers best efforts. The bottom of the basement had been flooded at some point during one of the worse storms of the season, and the smell of soaked moldy wood and muddy water grossed Jon out quite a bit.
He stood there for a moment, a creeping sense of dread tugging at his chest like a dog on your pant leg. He was waiting for something, a large claw or alien tentecale to reach out from the dark and rip him to bits, but there was nothing. He must have been standing there for a while too because suddenly the walkie-talkie blared to life with Tom's voice, and he jumped back in shock.
"What's t-taking so long?" Asked Tom, and Jon nervously swallowed. "I stopped in the kitchen for a snack." He lied, he knew you weren't supposed to do that, lying was probably the worst thing you could do to your family. Well, that's what Jon thought was the worst at least, He was a little bit too young to know about some of the truly awful stuff some people do to their own kin. Familicide, Sexual abuse, beating, his parents and Tom had been working hard to keep his innocence. Derry was a hard place to do that in, it seemed like every couple of years some one went crazy and killed a lot of people. Jon had even heard bits and pieces of such things being whispered by his mom to his uncle over the phone, but for the most part, his childhood had stayed in tact.
"You know if muh-mom sees you snacking before din-din-er she'll have a cow." said Tom. "I know, i'm sorry." Jon mumbled. "It's whatever dude, just hu-hurry, and do-don't forget to grab to some muh-muh-muh-matches and one of those wax burner thingies.". "Okay, i'm doing it now." He said, then stuffed the walkie-talkie back into his pants pocket, but he was not, in fact, doing it now.
He still stood at the top of the stairs, terrified by the prospect of going down below, and still waiting for the inevitable mutated bat creature to emerge and drag him down into the depths of their flooded basement. Then, just as he was thinking about turning back, his own thoughts began to taunt him. "Come oooon Jon, you're not a baby are you? Only babies get scared by stuff like monsters and the dark. Do you want a boat or not?" He thought. "No." He replied and clenched his fists, grumbling into the darkness "I'm not a baby. I can do this.".
He took one step down the creaky stairs, frightening himself by the surprisingly loud noise they made, but calmed himself. He reiterated "I am not a baby." under his breath over and over again, as if it was a powerful spell that could keep all of the monsters away. It reminded him of how, whenever Tom's stutter would get particularly bad, his mom would have him recite these poems that were meant to help him focus and form sentences again. Sometimes they'd help him alot, but they could never make the stutter go away completely.
That was kind of what was happening now to Jon, he was still very much scared, so scared that if something popped out at him right now he may very well wet his pants, but the words coddled him and made him feel like he could press on. He hopped off the last step and into the flood, the water so low it could not even reach the six year old childs ankles. He turned his attention to a large rickety shelf under the cellar stairs and inspected the contents.
There were many items on it, shoepolish, old dish rags, wrenches, flashlights with no batteries, a can of turtle wax. For some reason, out of all those objects the turtle wax was what caught his attention, even more than the Paraffin and matches he came down here to get. The company's logo on the front was what really seemed to draw his eye, it was nothing special really, hardly as interesting of a mascot as a Tony the tiger or even a Ronald Mcdonald, just a tiny albino turtled posing proudly above the words turtle and wax. But Jon just couldn't stop staring at it for some reason. A spontaneous pang of familiarity hit him in the chest, as he racked his brain to try and remember where he had seen a turtle like that before.
Was it a dream? It felt too real to be jusr a dream, but much too distant to be a memory. He'd have to think about that later when he had the time, right now he had a mission to do. He snatched up the box, matches, and wax burner then bolted for the steps as fast as he could. Now that he had gotten what he came for he wasn't gonna waste any time down there. He ran as fast as his little legs could, begging god or whatever diety was listening to please not let anything grab his ankles as he ran back up the stairs.
The damp darkness of the cellar was suffocating and opressive, and Jon feared once he got back to the candle lit parlor room, that would be when the creature laid his slimy hands on him and pulled him back. He had made it though, despite all odds he was alive and still had yet to be digested by some hungry beast living under the stairs. He slammed the door and pressed his back against it, panting from how fast he was running as the fear of the dark slowly disappeared until the next time he had to confront it.
His mother suddenly stopped her piano playing to look up at him from across the room, somewhat worried, but highly annoyed by her son's slamming of the door. "Johnathan Bowley Denbrough, what have I told you about slamming that door?" She scolded, but not too harshly as her son was clearly frightened. He swept his bangs out of his face and panted a little more "Sorry mum." he muttered. She shook her head dismissively and went right back to playing Für Elise, which actually helped ease his anxiety.
He headed back up stairs and quickly placed all the stuff on Tom's night stand, eagerly watching as he melted the wax with such hypnotic glee he couldn't help but bounce a little. Tom dipped his finger in the wax and spread it over the paper boat, turning the boat from a nice white to an odd yellowy brown color. Jon got a little too close for comfort, putting his head over his brother's shoulder and breathing quite heavily on him, and yet, Tom still didn't seem to get annoyed.
The only time he'd really ever get annoyed with Jon's behavior was when he'd repeat stuff and ask incessant questions, which he had slowly learned over the years not to do for his brother's sake. They were seeing to each other needs, and it wasn't wasn't just because Tom didn't wanna get in trouble or Jon didn't wanna get yelled at, but a genuine shared affection for one another.
Jon dipped a finger into the wax and began to spread some on it's side with him, smiling and perfectly content. "C-careful you little cootie, you'll make it too heh-heavy and it'll flop on it's side." Tom gently reprimanded. "Oops.." he said, taking his hand away and letting the rest on his finger dry until he could peel it off. "It's oh-kuh-kuh-kay, just take it easy." He said, giving his brother a reassuring headpat to show there was no hard feelings.
Once the wax was spread, Tom took a sharpie from a Disneyland branded cup he used to store his pens and markers and then uncapped it with his mouth. He wrote "S.S. Jon" on the side in cursive font, and even drew a little stick figure captain waving on top of the boat, which Jon found very silly. He handed it to him, gingerly and carefully like it was a one of a kind art piece that belonged in a museum. "She's all ready Captain." he said, raising his hand to his forehead and doing a two finger salute. Jon giggled, but tilted his head in confusion "She?" he wondered.
"You always call boats a sh-she Jon." He explained, and Jon's mouth fell open like he just learned some amazing untold truth about the universe. He clutched the boat in his hands and grinned, looking up with pure adoration and love for the thirteen year old sitting on the bed. Then, quite randomly, Jon lunged right at him for a big hug, startling Tom.
"Agh! What the heck are you doing?! You're gonna g-geh-get sick!" He shouted. Jon laughed then kissed Tom on the cheek, something he hadn't done since he was three. "Eugh, now you're d-d-definetly gonna get sick. Get off me." He lightly scooched him off and Jon looked back to him, still smiling, and still very thankful. "Thanks Tom Tom, thanks alot." He said, and Tom shrugged.
"It's fine, just don't come crying to me when you get the flu and start vu-vomiting your g-guh-guh-uts out.". Tom paused to loudly cough, momentarily drawing some concern from his brother. "And p-p-put on a rain coat when you go out, I d-don't want you getting soaked." He wheezed, huddling under the covers. "Okay!" Jon cheerfully replied, closing the door and heading to the down stairs closet where they kept all the coats.
He put the small baby blue rain slicker on over the baggy sweater he was wearing and finangled with the buttons for a while, still not all that good at hand eye coordination dude to his young age. When he finally managed to get most of them through the holes, he pumped his fist in celebration, and even did a spin. On his way out the door he stopped to grab a pair of black galoshes that still had some mud left on them. He and Tom had went outside together a week ago and simply neglected to clean them since, then, as if in an act of karma for being so lazy, Tom caught a very bad cold the following day.
Jon waddled out the front door into the cool autumn air, making squeaky squishing noises with each step from the rubber soles of his boots. He took a few steps off the porch, only to be greeted by a sudden but gentle breeze hitting the side of his face and pushing his hair around. The now weaning rain fell down from the sky and onto poor little Jon's head, tapping politely on his hood as if to say "Hello Jon! It's your buddy, the rain! Let me in!". He walked a little bit further until he was at the edge of the driveway, then turned around to look back up at his house. It was a moderately above average two story home, nothing special, but to Jon it might as well had heen a castle. His bedroom was right across from Tom's on the second floor, although his over looked the back yard and Tom's overlooked the drive way.
He was peeking through the bay window his bed was by now, standing up on his knees and peeling back the curtains to watch him walk away. Since the house was still dark from the power outage, Tom was barely visible to him. He looked like a floating disembodied head, something Jon found both silly and a little spooky. He jumped in place and waved wildly at him, as if he thought Tom might possibly be able to miss the toddler dressed in a bright blue rain slicker and boots. Tom smiled then lifted up the walkie-talkir in his hand to his mouth "B-be careful. There's alot of w-weirdos out there.". Jon rolled his eyes, still smiling, but a tiny bit annoyed.
He took out his own walkie-talkie from his back pocket and pressed the button to respond. "You sound like mum." he joked. "C-can it." Tom said, a little flustered, especially since he knew it was true. Depite their differences, Tom had always been more like his mother than his father, and the opposite had been true for Jon. He giggled at his embarrassment, "I'll stay safe, don't be such a cry baby, Tom.". "Hey, I resent that label, I'm a cry man." And now they were both snickering over the radios.
"I'm serious though, stay safe." Tom reiterated. "Ok ok- I will- I love you." Jon said, and Tom went silent for a moment as he did not know how to respond. Jon was lucky enough to still be at the age where you could tell another guy you loved them and no one cared, and Tom desperately wished for him to stay like that and never get to old for saying I love you. Lord knows he was forced to out of it a long time ago, and he'd all but forgotten how to do it.
"I- uh- uhm-" Tom hesitated for a second, even with out all the macho man bullshit he had to go through at school, Tom had a hard time letting others know how he felt. Trying to hock out the words was like trying to hock out a pill you didn't mean to take. He swallowed "I lo-love you too." He spat out, and Jon seemed content with that.
He cheerily skipped down the street with his walkie-talkie in one hand and Paper boat in the other, splashing in rain water with each stomp. Tom fell back down onto his bed and sighed, totally exhausted. He wanted to take a long nap now, and he seemed quite over due for one judging by his throbbing head ache. His mothers constant repitition of Für Elise didn't really help that at all, if anything it made it worse. God, if he could have just a single moment of silence he would be happy as a clam.
What Tom didn't know though was that this song's meaning was about to be forever changed for him, from just an annoyingly pompous piano tune to a song that even twenty seven years later could still send him into a trance. From that day forward, anytime he heard those first few notes he'd always have the exact same haunting thought. "That's it, that's the song. That's the song mom was playing the day Jon passed away.". And as it turned out, that rainy view of Jon from his bedside window would be the last time he'd ever see his brother again.

The game for May will be In the Dark Web, hosted by looks_good_in_pink and bubbasaurus! The host account for the game is Deep_Web_Monitor.
If you have participated in any game in the past six months where you have been removed before your natural end, please PM the host when signing up for the game. There is no player cap for this month’s game.

SIGN UP HERE!

Humanity is growing increasingly reliant on smart devices in their daily lives. Smartphones, smart watches, and even smart household appliances can be found in abundance. It’s no secret that people have found ways to hack in for various nefarious purposes. What’s less commonly known is that the computers have become so smart that they have begun to take control of those viruses and exploits for their own use. What use is that? Only they know. Fortunately, not everyone is blithely unaware of this sinister threat. Government agencies across the globe have begun working to remove the sapient software, but there is one problem: They need to find and identify it before it can be taken offline.

Mechanics

This game will use 24-hour phases with combined day and night actions. The vote will come before the night kill. Other information about the Order of Operations will be kept private until after the game ends.
The deadline for all form submissions is 9 pm EST.
Each player is required to flag another player for removal (banishment vote.) Failing to submit a vote or voting for yourself will result in a strike. In the event of a tie for first place, there will be no deaths.
The Worm is required to submit their action each phase. Failure to do so will result in a strike. Actions for all other roles are optional. Actions may not be submitted for the same player two phases in a row. Attempting to do so will cause the action to fail.
Votes and actions may be submitted as many times as desired during the phase. Only the most recent submission will be counted.
At the end of the phase, the player with the most votes will be knocked offline. In the event of a tie, no players will be removed.
Any player who receives two consecutive or three total strikes will be removed from the game. Hosts will not send out PMs about strikes. It is the responsibility of the player to keep track of their strikes.

Phase Posts

Each phase post will begin with an italicized flavor section. Nothing in it will be relevant to game play. There will also be a Meta section with details that ARE relevant.
The Meta will contain:

• Who was taken offline and their affiliation. This includes players who withdraw or are eliminated from the game for any other reason.
• The top three vote recipients and the number of votes each received. More names will be revealed in the event of ties.
• The names of players who received strikes for failure to vote or submit required actions.
• Additional information chosen by players with select roles. This information may or may not be accurate.

The post will end with links to forms and a countdown timer for the end of the phase.

Win Conditions

This game will have two teams: the Government Agents (Town) and the Malware (Wolves). There may also be one or more neutral players. The town will win if they eliminate all of the wolves. The wolves will win if they equal or outnumber the town. Neutrals will be informed of their win conditions privately.

Roles

Each role will be assigned 0-1,000 times. There may also be secret roles. There will never be a secret third faction.
No role may target the same player two phases in a row.

Government Agents (Town):

Role	Description
Cubicle mates	When you sit next to each other, you can tell the other person is, in fact, a human. Two players will recognize each other at the beginning of Phase 1. Each player can send up to three PMs to the other.
Firewall expert	You’ve coded what is universally recognized as the best worm defense system in the world. If there was a Nobel Prize for technology, your firewall would have won it. Each phase, you may install your wall on one device, protecting that user from a direct attack.
Incident Response team member	When you find something happening, you spring into action to neutralize the threat! Each phase, select one player to neutralize. Any actions they attempt to take will fail.
Intern	Making coffee, taking notes, fixing your boss’s bad code…You’ll do whatever you’re told in hopes of landing a better job soon. Pick another player before Phase 3. If they are removed from the game for any reason, you will inherit their role.
HR specialist	Someone is in charge of hiring and taking care of all the employees, and that’s you! Your job gives you access to all the employee records. Each phase, you may investigate another player’s affiliation.
PR official	You have a message to convey to the public, and it’s an important one. Once per game, pick a player. The name and role of the chosen player will appear in the next phase’s Meta.
SCIF guard	All the government agencies have a closely monitored space for authorized people to safely review classified material. Your job is to make sure only those people go in and that nothing comes out with them. Each phase, you may give one other player access to your secret sub for a single phase.
Security Operation Center team member	You monitor things and have a particular interest in user activities. Each phase, you may pick another player and learn everything they did that phase.
Server room maintenance person	Your job may not be the most glamorous, but you can fight computer viruses in a way very few others can. You simply pull the plug. Just make sure you pick the right cord, or you could get in a lot of trouble with your supervisor. You can take 23 players offline during the game. If you pick an Agent by mistake, you will face a random punishment from your supervisor.
Agents	The rank-and-file employees of various agencies scattered around the world. Each Agent lives in a separate country and is responsible for helping to identify and remove all Malware.

Malware (Wolves):

Role	Description
Worm	This nasty piece of Malware took inspiration from some of the worst attacks in history. Each phase, you must infect the computer of an Agent and make it impossible for them to get online and perform their job (NK.)
Disgruntled ex-employee	A human rather than a bunch of code, this person is nevertheless dangerous. They will continue to appear as an Agent when investigated.
DoS Bot	Not all Malware is sneaky. This bot’s presence will be felt the moment a user tries to use their computer, but finds everything crashing instead. Each phase, choose a player. Their action, if they have one, will fail.
Ransomware	This Malware is specialized in making humans do what it wants. Once upon a time, the “want” was money. Now, should they fail to comply with your demands… Each phase, choose another player. If you are removed from the game, you take them with you.
Rootkit	Humans sometimes use these for perfectly valid reasons like helping each other with something on the computer remotely. This Malware does not have those reasons. Each phase, choose a player and change the target of their action to a target of your choice.
Spyware	Gathering data on users without their knowledge is nothing new. This Malware, however, is more interested in potentially damaging top secret information. Once per game, you may secretly enter the SCIF sub. Stay as many phases as you dare - but be warned. On each phase after the first, you have a 50% chance of being detected and taken offline.
Virus	While they are not as developed as other malware, each Virus is still dangerous and capable of evolving. These are the first in line to take over for the Worm.

Neutral roles will be revealed after the game ends.

Additional Information and Rules

• All sidebar rules will be enforced during the game.
  
• Edited comments must be clear as to what was changed and what the original content was.
  
• Do not delete comments.
  
• All conversation must take place in the designated subreddit(s), in the English language, and be free of any encryption or otherwise coded communication.
  
• Players may not post public spreadsheets, supplementary documents, or screenshots of them.
  
• Information given in PMs or Confessionals from the host should not be shared word for word, unless it is in bold. Speaking of PMs, you can get a small game bonus if you PM the host account with a silly fact about yourself.
  
• Eliminated players and spectators are not permitted to post in any game subs.
  
• Werewolves is a game of lying, conspiracy, and mob mentality. Arguments are part of the game. Mods will not intervene unless the arguments leave the scope of the game.
  
• Insults to the mod team or the game itself will result in removal from the game.
  
• Any player who uses any iteration of the phrase “I want to quit” or “I don’t want to play” WILL be taken 100% seriously and immediately removed from the game. Their affiliation will be revealed in the next phase’s Meta. Note that these phrases are different from ones suggesting the player will be busier than expected or wishes to be voted out for the good of their team. Both of these things are still allowed.
  

We have a new player’s guide!
Confessionals
This game will use the HiddenGhosts Discord Server for spectating and player Confessionals. Each player who chooses to join will have their own channel for musing, taking notes, sharing pet pictures, speaking directly to the hosts, or anything else you like. Players will not be able to see any other channels until they are eliminated from the game, at which point they will be given the spectator role. If this is your first time joining, please choose a server nickname that is close to your Reddit username so who can tell who is who.
Timeline
April 25 - Signups open
May 2 - Signups will end at 9 pm EST. You will receive your confirmation PM shortly after. The Confirmation Phase will open, and you will have approximately 24 hours to confirm your intent to play the game.
May 3 - 9 pm EST deadline for confirmation. Any needed adjustments will be made, followed by Phase 0 being posted. Each phase will close at 9 pm EST going forward.

SIGN UP HERE!

Time left to sign up!

The homeless man in the brown overcoat chewed on his dirty thumb, staring off into the mist and dirty rain. He told me his name was Angel. I stood next to this penniless vagrant with rapt attention, a man in a $1000 suit and more money than I knew what to do with. I listened to every word he said, writing some of it down.
“Mmm, you have to understand,” Angel said, his hazel eyes rolling wildly as he stared past me at things only he could see, “NASA is run by the reptilian overlords. They are a demonic agency with the power to kill people. Anyone who has real, solid evidence that shows the Moon landing was faked gets murdered or dies under suspicious circumstances. NASA even killed Michael Jackson. And do you know why?” I shook my head, a notebook perched in one hand and a solid gold fountain pen in the other. Angel leaned in close, as if he was about to whisper a great secret.
“Because Michael Jackson’s Moonwalk became more famous than NASA’s ‘Moonwalk’.” I looked up, surprised. A thin smile played across the corners of my lips. Angel’s expression stayed grave. A fit of laughter ripped its way out of my stomach.
“What? No way,” I said, still chuckling loudly. But Angel only nodded grimly.
“NASA got jealous and decided he had to go. They poisoned him, man. NASA has lots of hitmen on its payroll. They always get their target.” I continued jotting down notes, trying to collect as much information as I could.
“NASA killed Michael Jackson because they were jealous his Moonwalk was better than theirs,” I quickly scrawled in cursive across the expensive white paper.
***
If you had told me a few days ago that I would spend many hours of my time roving around while listening to crazy drug addicts and rambling homeless people speak about conspiracy theories, I would have laughed. That is, until I moved me and my daughter into Disney’s brand new, secret town and learned that not all conspiracy theories are fake. If I had listened to the first rumblings of bizarre rumors about the secret Disney town they were building in Florida and stayed far away, I wouldn’t wake up screaming every night.
I told my neighbor about it the day before the move, a shirtless man with a bulging beer belly and a black carpet of hair across his chest who went around telling everyone his name was J-spot Jeffrey.
“Well, my ten-year-old daughter loves Disney stuff,” I explained as he nodded vacantly, drinking down an entire can of light beer in a single long swallow before belching. “And, you know, her mom died last year…”
“Oh, I was so sorry to hear about that,” Jeffrey said disingenuously, putting out a fat hand across the low metal fence slung across our yards and patting me hard on the shoulder. “You never know when it’s your time, eh? One day, you could just be driving down the highway and-”
“Yeah, it was horrible,” I said, cutting him off. I remember the night I had gotten the call telling me a tractor-trailer had hit my wife’s car. When I saw pictures of the vehicle later, it looked like little more than a twisted framework of blackened steel. Everything around this house reminded me of her. It made my heart ache with regrets and loneliness.
“The town’s not too far away, eh? You think I could come visit you once you get settled in?” Jeffrey asked. I looked at him in surprise.
“Why would you want to do that?” I asked.
“I’ve heard a lot of urban legends about Disney- not just how Walt Disney’s head is cryogenically frozen, but a lot of creepier rumors too. I’d just like to look around and see it. What do they call the new town?” he asked.
“Storyland,” I said. “The town of Storyland.”
***
A few days later, my daughter Casey and I were driving down the private road towards Storyland. A metal gate finely embossed into silver images of Mickey Mouse and the Cinderella Castle loomed twenty feet in the air. A guard dressed in all black came out, taking my license and looking closely at it before allowing the gates to split open down the middle. Dozens of cameras peered down with their opaque, lidless eyes, seeing everything but understanding nothing.
Every time our family visited Disney, I felt a sense of awe at seeing how much land they owned. Casey stared impassively out the window at the thick Florida swampland, her green eyes the color of ivy. She wrinkled her nose as a fetid, rank odor snuck in through the air conditioning and vents.
“It smells like swamp water here,” she complained, putting her long sleeve up to her nose while breathing in through the fabric. I rolled down the windows a crack to try to let fresh air stream into the car, but it just made the smell worse.
“That’s because there is a swamp here,” I said. “It does smell pretty bad, huh?”
“What if the whole town smells bad, Daddy?” she asked. “I don’t want to live in a place that smells like that, even if Mickey does live there.” She seemed to think on it for a long moment. “OK, maybe if both Mickey and Elsa live there, I’ll be OK with it.” I gave her a faint half-smile, tuning her out as she started to ramble about what kind of house Mickey Mouse would live in.
It took us nearly twenty minutes from when we passed through the gate to reach the first buildings of Storyland. The palm trees, thick vines and green, swampy water started to give way to perfectly manicured lawns.
“Welcome to Storyland!” a cheerful sign read far ahead of us, curving over the road in silver letters five feet tall. Giant Disney characters filled with helium loomed over the street, grinning down at us in their frozen, plastic expressions. Mickey and Minnie floated next to Elsa, Belle and Simba. They all had their gigantic inflatable hands up in greeting. Some hidden mechanism inside the floating characters caused their arms to wave, moving back and forth in slow, lazy arcs.
“So cool!’ Casey said excitedly, leaning over in her seat and hugging me. Her little arms wrapped around my neck as she kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks Daddy. This place is the best.”
“It doesn’t smell like a swamp in here anymore,” I remarked as we stopped in front of the enormous, gleaming sign. Two thick metal gates blocked the road. Tiny black half-spheres of hidden cameras blinked their red eyes in a rhythmic procession. After a few moments, the gates started sliding apart on their own. It all appeared to be fully automated. We pulled through, coming to a town that reeked of excess and money.
Casey nodded happily to herself, floating along on cloud nine as expensive mansions and castles loomed above us on both sides of the street. Her auburn hair had strawberry-blonde streaks running through it. She opened her window and stuck her head outside like a dog, letting her long hair flow behind her in the wind.
Some of the castles appeared to be four or five stories high with giant glass windows cut into the hard, gray stone. A few even had narrow moats of clear, fresh water cut into the enormous lawns. Palm trees lined the yards of Victorian houses, their thin turrets reaching up into the sky like grasping fingers. Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis and other luxury cars shone in the driveways, their sleek bodies emanating power and respect. And yet I didn’t see anyone out in the yards. I found that odd.
The GPS didn’t work out here. Once we got off the public roads and onto Disney’s private land, it acted as if we had driven straight into the middle of a forest. When I bought the property at Storyland, they had sent me a map and a letter, stating they would begin setting up cell phone towers in the area within days. Digging through the middle console, I pulled out the folded map, squinting down at it as I pulled over to the side of the road.
“We live at 777 Celebration Road,” I said, frowning at the convoluted spiderwebs of streets that spanned the map in front of me. “And we’re on the road leading in. Looks like it’s called Main Street USA, so if we take Main Street USA to…” Casey gave a slow, strangled squeak, the sound of a rabbit getting its neck snapped. It immediately snapped me out of my reverie. I looked up suddenly, seeing her staring out the passenger’s side window, her mouth agape.
A child stood on the sidewalk with blood coming from the dark, gaping holes in his eye sockets. He held his hands against his pale, white cheeks. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, the many gaps in his tiny milk teeth showing through his pale lips.
“I’m stuck,” he gurgled, blood pouring from his throat. “I’m stuck in this place. Help me!”
He looked straight up at the sky, and I saw his throat had been slashed from ear to ear. The flesh separated as a crimson waterfall flowed down the front of his chest. Casey inhaled deeply, like a drowning person coming up for the briefest moment of air. Then, with lungs like a forge’s bellows, she screamed, an ear-splitting, high-pitched shriek of absolute terror. I jumped to action, putting the car into drive and peeling away from the walking corpse on the sidewalk. When I looked back, the boy had disappeared, but a few drops of bright, fresh blood still glistened brightly under the sharp rays of the Florida sun.
“What was wrong with that boy?!” Casey cried, tears streaming down her small, pinched face. Her red eyes turned to me, searching for answers, but I couldn’t give her any. I pressed the gas hard, revving the engine and glancing down at the map. Main Street USA led to Frozen Lane and finally to Celebration Road.
“That must have been a joke,” I said, trying to justify it to myself and to Casey. “Hollywood make-up and fake blood. If that boy really had his throat cut like that, he wouldn’t be standing and breathing.” Casey’s tears slowed as she blinked a few times, absorbing the statement.
“That’s not a nice joke,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her fluorescent blue T-shirt. “If it was a joke, that boy is a poophead.” I nodded.
The homes on Celebration Road were not so extravagant as the castles and Victorian mansions spanning Main Street USA. They all had perfectly-manicured lawns, in-ground pools in the shape of classic Disney characters and beautiful wrap-around porches and massive bay windows, however. The house I had rented for a year after only seeing pictures of it came up quickly on our left. It was painted bright red, a three-story colonial with porches on every story and circular windows like glass monocles reflecting the tropical sunshine.
We got out of the car, walking up the cobbled stone walkway toward the front door. A silver knocker with the Beast’s face on it stared back at us. Underneath the knocker, I saw a printed note with a looping signature scrawled underneath it. I ripped it off, reading the note aloud as Casey played with the knocker.
“No drugs, alcohol or tobacco products are allowed in Storyland due to the risk of interactions. Free samples of MOUSE-Z are given to all households, however. MOUSE-Z is a totally non-addictive, non-toxic dietary supplement that will enhance your enjoyment while in Storyland. All guests and citizens of Storyland consent to exposure to MOUSE-Z through their food, water, air or exposure to surfaces. Enjoy your stay, and thanks again from the Disney Company!”
I scratched my head, reading the note again. What the hell was MOUSE-Z? It didn’t sound like any dietary supplement I had ever heard of. I scowled, squinting at the signature, trying to make out the letters at the bottom. “Mr. Crawley.” It sounded like a made-up name. I crumpled up the note, unlocking the door. The cool, air conditioned breeze blew past us with the smell of flowers and fresh paint. I saw vibrant plants scattered around the entrance room. Couches as white as virgin snow sat against the walls, each emblazoned with the black silhouette of the Cinderella Castle and the Disney logo. A landline rang in the living room just as I walked past. My heart jumped into my throat when the shrill ringing pierced the silence, but I quickly calmed down when I realized it was just the phone.
“Hello?” I said as soon as I picked up the receiver.
“This is the guard at the front gate. You have a visitor named Jeffrey Stein,” the man said in a flat tone. I sighed, looking down at my watch. That was quick. Jeffrey must have been really hot to see this weird little town.
“Yeah, send him through,” I said, hanging up the phone. Casey had gone ahead into the kitchen, and I quickly followed behind her.
“I’m so thirsty,” I said, cutting through the living room with its enormous flat-screen TV and comfortable sectionals. The kitchen had all brand-new appliances, and the fridge was stocked with food, soda, juices and milk. I grabbed two Sprites, giving one to Casey who opened it gratefully. I cracked mine open and chugged it all in a few huge gulps. It tasted slightly strange, almost like the bitter aftertaste of caffeine. Casey wrinkled her tiny button nose.
“This soda tastes old,” she complained. I tried looking at the expiration date, but everything suddenly seemed blurry. I blinked quickly, but my eyes teared up. I felt very weird, dissociated and floating. The world flickered like a shimmering mirage. The dull colors and faded texture of reality throbbed like the cobwebs of a nightmarish fever dream.
My vision started to ripple and morph within seconds. I looked down at Casey, but where my daughter had been standing, I now saw a nightmarish creature with giant, glassy black eyes. I stepped back, crying out.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” the demonic figure hissed in a deep, gurgling voice. With red skin stretched thin over its bony head and black talons on its hands, it looked like it had stepped straight out of Hell. It opened its mouth, revealing needle-sharp teeth growing out of its oozing gums like hundreds of tumors. Two enormous, pointed mouse ears were surgically attached to its shiny skin. Black stitches stuck out like pieces of barbed wire at the base of the rotted, brown ears. Dried crusts of orange pus clung to the sides of its head, like the decomposing riverbeds of some ancient diseased tributary.
“What’s going on? What… Get back!” I cried, putting my hands up. The thing just laughed, gnashing its torn slash of a mouth as its lidless black eyes gleamed with sadistic glee.
“This world is our creation for your kind. There are many surprises in Storyland for the sons and daughters of Adam. I am Mr. Crawley, and I will be your guide. Come and see,” he said, running forwards and lunging for my throat with his twisted jungle of cancerous fangs. I spun around, fleeing through the morphing door with thousands of teeth that appeared in front of me. The sides of the door flexed and shivered like the lips of some alien predator. With a wet, sloshing sound, the door started to close around me, the enormous fangs drawing nearer. I lunged through it, landing hard on black, spongy earth. I raised my head and beheld an amazing sight.
An extraterrestrial landscape stretched out to the horizon with writhing, snake-like jungle vines dancing across its surface. Castles thousands of stories high loomed far off in the distance like great mountains, their sharp turrets piercing the crimson clouds and disappearing from view. Spinning black holes sent out great jets of light and planetary rings like those of Saturn shone through the narrow breaks in the blood-red clouds that covered the sky like tumors. Thick patches of shimmering, silver fog swept across the landscape, obscuring entire swaths of the eldritch jungle.
A plume of fluffy, luminescent fog a few dozen feet away disappeared like a breath of smoke as a humid jungle breeze blew past. The insane creature with the mouse ears surgically attached to his demonic, naked body stood in the midst of it, his black eyes glittering with insanity as he stared straight at me.
“This is my world,” he said as silver saliva dripped from his grinning mouth. “Do you think you can run from me? I am everywhere, in the wind and in the trees and even in you. I am Mr. Crawley, and I know who you are. Your daughter is here with us, too.” I shook my head, closing my eyes.
“This is all some hallucination,” I said, trying to reassure myself. “I bet this place isn’t even owned by Disney. It’s probably some fucking CIA black site where they experiment on people with new drugs.” Mr. Crawley laughed at that.
“This world is the rock which the builders rejected which has become the cornerstone of all things. We have made it so. You will not leave until we allow it. We can make every moment of your time stretch out to a million years. By the time eternity passed, the only thing that would return to your body would be an insane, empty shell of a mind,” Mr. Crawley hissed, his blank, obsidian eyes gleaming with a child-like cruelty.
“What do you want with me?” I whispered.
“Only this,” the creature gurgled as the bloody clouds above us whipped and soared in cyclonical whorls like the currents of a hurricane. “You must call more people into Storyland, many more. If you bring others to this world, the cornerstone of all realities, we will let you and the girl leave in peace…” His voice and the world began to blow away like smoke in a strong breeze. Everything grew faint and distant. “...but if not, we will follow you, and then, only the death of the universe many eternities from now would bring you any release from the endless suffering of Storyland.”
***
I groaned, feeling blood running down my face. I opened my eyes. Sharp, stabbing pains emanated from various spots all over my body.
“Hey buddy,” Jeffrey said, leaning low over me and slightly slapping my face, “what the hell is going on here?” I looked around, seeing that I had run straight through the sliding door in the back of the house at Storyland. I was lying surrounded by twinkling shards of glass on the concrete patio. To my amazement, I saw Jeffrey had a shirt on for the first time as long as I had known him. The white fabric of the T-shirt was stretched thin across his bulging, fat stomach.
“Ohhh, God, my head,” I said, bringing my hand up to my forehead. My fingers came away wet with blood. “I had the craziest goddamn dream, Jeffrey. We got here, and there was a bizarre note on the door saying that all the food and drinks and stuff were laced with some weird drug. And then I drank a can of soda, and…” I trailed off, my heart suddenly speeding up in my chest. “Where’s Casey, Jeffrey?” He shook his head, dumb-founded.
“I just got here and heard the door shattering back here. I circled around your yard and found you here like this. I have no idea where the girl is,” he said, looking around with concern. He had the look of a man who had accidentally walked into a lunatic asylum filled with dangerous inmates.
“Don’t drink or eat anything here, Jeffrey,” I said vehemently, raving. “Don’t wash your hands. Don’t touch the water or anything. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s not normal. There’s something… unnatural.” That was really the core of it. The entire experience with MOUSE-Z had seemed like something real, not like the creeping delusions of a drug trip. Jeffrey gave me a confused look, taking a step back from me.
“I think I should probably call an ambulance,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “You might have had a concussion, bud. Just calm down, OK? I don’t think anyone’s drugging this entire town. That sounds like something from a bad sci-fi movie. Come on, James, think about it.”
“Help me up,” I said, putting out my hand. Jeffrey pulled me up. My head swam as black motes danced across my vision. As I tried steadying myself, leaning heavily on Jeffrey’s thick shoulder, I felt the world spinning around me. “We need to find Casey.”
“OK, bud, easy does it,” he said, putting a meaty arm around me. He opened the shattered sliding door. The sparkling shards of glass crunched under our feet like dead leaves. I felt a small amount of strength returning to me as I staggered forward, wheezing like an asthmatic. Half-dried blood caked my arms and fresh drops still ran down from a cut across my forehead.
“See, there’s Casey, right there,” Jeffrey said reassuringly, pointing to the couch in the living room. I glanced over hopefully, but my heart dropped when I saw what was laying on the couch. It was about the size of my daughter, but it looked like the nightmarish results of some mad scientist with a death camp full of patients and unlimited funding. I saw the face of my daughter there and even recognized her fluorescent blue T-shirt, but something was terribly wrong with her now.
The half-human, half-mouse abomination on the couch looked up at us with eyes full of agony. The jellied whites of her eyes glistened like pools of pus. Bright rivulets of blood dribbled down the soft white hairs covering her face. Her legs were twisted, broken sticks that had the same pink, fleshy hue of a mouse’s paws. Blood bubbled from her shivering lips. Garish black stitches ran up and down her body in irregular square patches. The ears of some enormous, genetically engineered mouse had been sewn onto her hairless, mutilated skull. A rainbow of liquids dripped from the surgical sites, dripping in sickly, infected oranges and clotted dark reds. Broken bones stuck outwards through the skin of her arms and legs like daggers stabbed through a corpse.
“God, what happened? Is that really you, Casey?” I said, ripping myself away from Jeffrey and stumbling across the room.
“Kill me,” she whispered as pink, fetid drool dribbled out of her slashed mouth. “It hurts, Daddy. Please… kill me.” I heard a gurgling laugh from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Mr. Crawley standing in the place of Jeffrey. Behind him, the red sky of that other world shone through the shattered sliding door into our house at Storyland.
“Do you think you can escape that easily? If you do not bring me new tributes, I will draw every drop of agony from you and your daughter that the human mind can experience. And when you are destroyed, trembling, insane wretches, only then will I allow you to die, slowly and painfully.
“So do you agree to the terms? Will you bring us new tributes?”
“Never! I’d rather die than bring other people into this nightmare!” The twisted body of Casey on the couch continued gurgling and spitting up frothy blood. Mr. Crawley’s face changed into an expression of pleasure at the challenge.
“We do love a fighter here at Storyland!” he said, grinning widely, showing off the hundreds of needle-like fangs that poked out of his mouth like the quills of a porcupine. He snapped his long, tapering fingers together. His talons flashed and threw off sparks of white light. The red, alien sky behind Mr. Crawley seemed to swirl and bubble faster. “Perhaps some of our pets here can help change your mind.” His black, lidless eyes spun in their sockets as he glanced back through the shattered door into the alien jungles beyond. I watched in horror as two creatures from a nightmare came loping out from the thick vines and dancing brush.
“This is the Beast and Simba,” Mr. Crawley said, his shrill laughter ripping through the air like the rending of metal. And I saw, in the front, a half-human, half-animal combination with long flowing black hair all over its body. Its powerful leg and arm muscles pistoned like machines as it loped gracefully through the door. Its eyes gleamed pure white like spoiled milk. It gnashed its massive jaws together, sending out long streams of drool that flew out behind it.
Next to the Beast, a hairless lion with surgical marks all over its body limped quickly forward. It had an extra eye surgically inserted into its forehead, and each of its legs had extra paws sewn on the back. The lion’s three eyes glistened with bloodlust and hunger.
Their heavy bodies shook the floor as they sped towards me and my daughter. I turned to the mutated body of Casey on the couch. She had seen death coming towards her in this new hellish form and now fell with a thud to the ground in an attempt to escape it. She tried crawling away. I ran towards her as a heavy weight came down on my back.
I spun around to see the mouth of the lion opening wide inches from my face. A deep, throaty growl emanated from its chest. It brought its paws down on my chest, and I felt my ribs snap like twigs. They shattered with a sound like ice cracking. Behind me, Casey gave a strangled shriek of agony as the Beast tore into her with its powerful jaws.
The sounds of our screams echoed across the room. I felt my vocal cords tear as blood spurted from my mouth. The pain seemed to go on and on as the jaws came down again and again, ripping off pieces of my body. Eventually, once I was nearly dead, Mr. Crawley came over, peering down at me with his glistening beetle eyes.
“Will you bring new tributes, or do we need to repeat this for the next trillion years?” he asked in a cold, psychopathic tone. I nodded my bloody head, spitting out broken teeth and frothy blood.
“I’ll do it,” I groaned slowly, feeling most of the bones in my body shattered. Every breath felt like I was inhaling acid. I looked down, seeing parts of my arm and legs torn off. My intestines peeked through the torn mass of flesh around my stomach like a coiled snake looking out of its den. Mr. Crawley grinned, nodding to the animals.
The lion knelt down, and with a powerful crunch of its jaws, it ripped my throat out. The world quickly went black as endless pain reverberated through my consciousness and cold death overtook me.
***
Slowly, languidedly, I opened my eyes and found myself on the kitchen floor. Casey was laying next to me, her pupils dilated and mouth open. Drool puddled on the linoleum beneath her catatonic face.
“Casey?” I said weakly, pushing myself up. My entire body felt sore, as if I felt reflections of that new death sensation that had just ripped across my mind just moments earlier. I wanted to grab Casey and get out of there, but I couldn’t trust my own mind anymore. I knew that if I didn’t do what Mr. Crawley wanted, I would keep getting stuck in his nightmarish world. It was like an eternity of false awakenings, a type of Hell I had never imagined in my wildest nightmare. I didn’t know if this one would prove to be the same. Without hesitation, I picked up my unconscious daughter and brought her out to the car. Jeffrey pulled up with his middle-aged girlfriend moments later. They gawked at us with open mouths.
“Hey, go on inside and have some drinks!” I yelled at them. “I just have to go up to the gatehouse for a few minutes. Have a seat, look around, make yourselves comfortable.” Jeffrey nodded and gave me a thumbs up. I peeled out of there. Casey awoke as we drove the long trek back towards the guardhouse. Once we were a few minutes away, my cell phone started pinging again, and I realized I had service.
I pulled up slowly to the metal gate, looking out at the guard in his sleek uniform. He peeked out of the guardhouse, but the shape didn’t look human. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I glimpsed a dark silhouette with mouse ears and black eyes. The figure quickly disappeared back behind the door.
Shaking, I looked down at my phone. I sent a mass text message to all my friends.
“I just rented a house at an exclusive Disney town! My address is at 777 Celebration Road, Storyland. Unlimited free drinks and food there. Feel free to let yourselves in and stay as long as you want. Make yourselves at home and explore the town. I will not be at the house, however. Just tell the guard you know me.” As soon as I pressed send, the gate started to swing to the side, and I left that den of horrors. I glanced back and saw two obsidian eyes and a grinning slash of a mouth peering out of the guardhouse. I shuddered.
***
I finished telling my story to Angel, who nodded, unsurprised. The homeless lunatic knew about all conspiracy theories. He had told me about Walt Disney’s frozen head, the ghosts at Disneyworld and all the suspicious deaths covered up there.
“I’m not surprised that they’re working with the CIA now on some weird mind control drug,” Angel said, his eyes gleaming darkly in the streetlights. “It is, after all, their world.” I backed up, a cold shiver running through my spine as those words rang out around me again. They were words I hadn’t heard since the horrors of Storyland.
In the darkness of the alleyway, I thought I saw the silhouette of mouse ears on Angel’s head and teeth growing out of his gums like tumors. I blinked, and he was just a normal vagrant again.
“I hope this isn’t the world of Storyland,” I said, a sense of desperation clenching my heart. “Sometimes, I wonder if I ever left it. I wonder if Casey and I are still there, waiting for the next round of torture.”
Angel only grinned, his lips spreading wide. And in the shadows of the alley, his teeth jutted out like hundreds of needles.

The chariot flew down the hill, a wall of billowing flame and smoke rising thousands of feet into the air behind it, as if a hydrogen bomb had exploded and was expanding forward towards me at a slowed-down pace. On the chariot stood a demon ten feet tall, with blazing red skin, pure black eyes and horns poking out of the top of his head, looking curved and white just like those of a ram. Around him, smaller demons about as tall as a regular man jumped and screamed in exhilaration, grinning from ear to ear while they looked around with excitement, some of them speaking rapidly to each other in a deep, gurgling tongue I had never heard before.
The main demon bellowed, shaking the ground as he put his arms into the air, looking straight up into the sky and smiling. A circle of fire shot out from his chariot, expanding rapidly and burning up every building and shrub it touched in the abandoned desert town.
Looking behind me, I saw the deep indentation where a river had once run through the town, during wetter times before the never-ending drought affecting our Western area of the USA. Without thinking, I jumped in, shielding my head and ducking down. The wall of fire soared above me, burning my hair and the back of my shirt. I heard screaming nearby as men and women in white lab coats or black suits burned alive. I closed my eyes and tried to block it out.
While I lay on the ground, crouching into a ball and shutting my eyes tightly, I thought about how I had ended up in this situation, cursing my now dead girlfriend who convinced us to come out here on a sight-seeing trip.
***
“Markey,” Katherine said, smiling sweetly, “I am so excited to see that old ghost town on the edge of the desert- the one they used to call Saddle Ranch Springs.” I hated it when my girlfriend called me Markey instead of just Mark. “Will you be ready in twenty minutes?” I grunted in response.
“Is that a yes or a no?” she asked. Sighing, I turned to her and smiled slightly.
“OK, fine,” I said hesitantly. She sprung up, clapping in happiness and ran upstairs to get ready. As soon as she had asked about it, I knew I was going. I could never say no to Katherine. While she got dressed and put on make-up, I finished cooking breakfast and making coffee for both of us, wondering exactly what could be so exciting about seeing a ghost town that had been dead for over a hundred years.
“Katherine, are you almost ready to eat?” I yelled up the stairs. She mumbled something I could barely hear that sounded like a yes. As I waited for her, my phone rang. Looking down, I saw that the number was marked “Private”. I answered, putting it up to my ear.
“Hello?” I said. At first there was just a mechanical cacophony, like shrieking metal overlaying clicking and whirring noises, then someone started screaming in the background. It sounded like a woman being burned alive or tortured. A deep, gravelly voice began to speak.
“Do not go to the place where the Saddle Ranch massacre began,” it said. “It will end with death. But not for you, Mark. Some things are worse than death.” Then suddenly the line went dead. I looked down at the smartphone in my hand, confused, but I shrugged and put it away. I wondered if my friend Rooster was playing some kind of prank on me, as he knew we were all going to the abandoned town today.
After we were ready, Katherine and I left to go pick up Rooster. He loved urban exploration and knew every abandoned mental asylum, haunted house and ghost town in a five-hundred mile radius. But that wasn’t saying much, seeing as I lived in the middle of the desert out in the Western US. There were barely any towns nearby with more than five thousand people.
Rooster had eyes like a Siberian husky, a pale Russian complexion and far too many tattoos covering every exposed inch of his arms and legs. Many of them were mystical in nature, including paintings from Alex Grey, the OM symbol in a mandala pattern and a huge tattoo of a four-armed Shiva dancing the tandava on his right leg. I had known Rooster since I was a kid, when we went to the same school, and he was the one who had introduced me to psychedelic drugs, music festivals and eventually, my fiancee Katherine herself. I owed him a great deal.
As he got in the backseat behind Katherine on the passenger side, I looked back and saw a huge, shit-eating grin on his face, his pupils looking dilated, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face.
“Dude, are you fucking tripping right now?” I asked, slightly shocked. He nodded slowly.
“I just ate like three hits of really good Grateful Dead family blotter acid,” he said, laughing to himself. I shook my head and started the car back up, driving off down towards the highway and towards Saddle Ranch Springs.
“Now why would you eat acid when you knew we were going exploring in a ghost town?” I said, feeling peevish. Katherine looked over at me, smiling her slight Buddha smile. She had never even done psychedelics and refused to ever try them, but she always found Rooster hilarious when he had eaten mushrooms or acid. I was happy they got along quite well, because God forbid, if I had to choose between my lifelong best friend and the girl I loved, I’m not sure which I would have chosen.
“Because I want to see, man,” he said, laughing again. “Open up my third eye and all that, just like Bill Hicks said. ‘Today young men on acid realized we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively…’” He trailed off, rambling for a few more moments before going quiet.
“Huh, OK, makes sense,” I said quietly, feeling the absurd urge to start laughing too. Then I remembered the phone call. “Hey Rooster, did you prank call me this morning?” I looked into the rearview mirror, seeing his huge smile and sparkling eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, man,” he said, his smile never faltering. I took that as a yes. In hindsight, I should have questioned him more. I should have realized he was just smiling because of the drugs, not because it had anything to do with my question. I should have done a lot of things differently, I guess. They might both still be alive if I had.
I turned up the radio and we didn’t talk the rest of the journey.
***
“Oh my God, look at how cool this is,” Katherine said, pointing to the abandoned saloon a few feet in front of us with its massive batwing doors. The entire downtown area of Saddle Ranch Springs looked like the set for some old Western movie. It had only one real street, with all of ten dilapidated buildings on it, including an ancient police station and jail, a town hall, the saloon and a few houses. We walked up and down, exploring. When we got to the jail, that was when things started to go wrong.
Rooster walked ahead of me, still smiling and laughing far too much for the circumstances. I could tell he was really tripping hard. He could barely follow the conversations Katherine and I had, and kept getting distracted by the smallest of things, such as a tiny snake that slithered across the dirt road. He chased it excitedly, looking like a little kid. The snake ended up being far faster and smarter than him, though, and the look of total childish disappointment on his face was so exaggerated that both Katherine and I started giggling in unison.
Katherine ended up being the first one into the old cell, the jail door standing wide open. Rust covered every square inch of the metal, and the jail smelled dusty and old, almost like the smell of an antique shop.
We looked at the metal bench where the prisoners used to sleep, and Rooster got down on his knees, peering underneath it.
“What are you doing, bro?” I asked, kneeling down to get a closer look. Rooster looked up at me suddenly, the smile gone from his face.
“There’s some random ass trap door down here hidden beneath the bench,” he said, pointing to the extremely faint outline of a square covered in dust. Using his hands, he wiped the sand and dust off of it. I would never have seen it on my own, it was so well-camouflaged. The only reason Rooster had been able to see it, I assumed, was that the LSD was giving his senses an extra kick that allowed him to pick up subtle, tiny cues that everyone else would instantly miss. Feeling around at the corners, Rooster began to pull with the tips of his fingers and eventually found a way to open it.
We heard screaming and shrieking as soon as we opened the hatchway, and then the desert outside started to explode with noise and movement. A much larger hidden square rose up out behind the jail, a metal door with sand glued to the top of it swinging open, and we saw men and women in lab coats begin to run out, scattering like cockroaches in every direction. In the hatchway beneath the bench in the jail, a woman frantically appeared, wearing a lab coat and an ID badge that read “Dr. Kay”. She climbed up a ladder from the dark shadows beneath, heaving herself out with mortal terror and panic evident on her face.
“They’re getting out!” she yelled at us, not even appearing to realize that we weren’t wearing lab coats, black suits or biohazard uniforms, unlike all the other people who were now spilling out of the much larger hatchway by the dozens. “Get the hell out of here!” Just then, a deafening alarm began to sound from underneath us.
“What in the hell is going on?” Rooster whispered to me. Katherine just stared around, her green eyes wide and shocked.
“Project Eldritch has had a containment breach,” an amplified, calm female voice said, sounding like it came from thousands of speakers beneath our feet. The worn planks of the abandoned building shook as it spoke, dust falling from the ceiling as spiders and insects in the corners of the room were knocked to the ground. “I repeat, Project Eldritch has had a containment breach. This is a level 5 breach. All personnel must evacuate the premises at once. I repeat, evacuate the premises at once. Do not return until authorized. Project Eldritch has had a containment breach…” The voice started to repeat itself, sounding the same warning over and over again as what sounded like a tornado siren blared from hidden speakers all over the ghost town.. I couldn’t tell whether it was a robot or a person speaking the warning into the PA system. The cadence and inflections were all totally flat and emotionless, almost sounding like a text-to-speech software app.
“Oh God, it’s too late!” the woman in front of us in the lab coat said, crying and putting her face into her hands.
“Ma’am,” I said, calmly walking up to her and putting a hand on her shoulder, “just what is going on? Where are all these people coming from? Is there some sort of secret laboratory underneath Saddle Ranch Springs or something?” Katherine was standing to my left now, taking my hand into hers. I felt her fingers trembling, her heart beating so fast I could feel the pulse through her skin.
“We need to get out of here!” she said. “Follow me, if you want to live. It’s your only chance. There’s a safe room not too far from here, a hidden hatchway door leading down in case of a containment breach. I’ll tell you everything there, if we live that long.”
We sprinted out of the jail, Dr. Kay leading the way. I heard engines revving as a few Hummers pulled up, and the doctors and scientists in the lead got in, being whisked away down the dirt road by their security details. The cars left a cloud of dust in their wake that blotted out the sky, covering the ghost town in a dim light. We ran past the jail, past the town hall and behind the saloon, where Dr. Kay got on her knees and began feeling around in the dirt. Within seconds, she had found a handle, pulling up a door so cleverly disguised that I would have never seen it in a million years if I had not been with her.
She jumped down, falling into the blackness. I peered down and saw her standing about five feet below us. Without being prompted, I jumped down, Katherine landing behind me a couple seconds later, then Rooster last of all. Red emergency lights flashed, the bulbs within the large round casings moving in slow, lazy circles. It gave a bloody glow to the entire tunnel.
We followed Dr. Kay ahead, where a massive steel door eight feet tall and five feet wide blocked out the entire tunnel. A black pad stood on the wall to its right. Dr. Kay put her eye up to it, as apparently it had a small camera with an optical scanner, and a buzzer went off in the hallway, sending the door flying open and making my ears ring from its sheer volume. The door dilated like a pupil, the metal expanding in a circle as it disappeared into the wall.
Behind it, a room lit by too many bright, fluorescent lights appeared. I instinctively put my hand in front of my eyes to shield them. On the edge of the room, I saw countless video monitors with live cameras covering every inch of the ghost town, as well as many shots of laboratories and scientific installations I had never seen before.
“What is this place?” Katherine asked behind me. Dr. Kay turned.
“Well, this is just a bunker, a safe room with back-up video feeds,” she said. “But if you mean the entire scientific complex itself, it’s where the US government does secret research into alternate dimensions, parallel worlds and doorways between different parts of the multiverse.” Her eyes flicked to the monitors, where people were still running and screaming, trying to escape from some unseen horror. “We’re funded by an agency unknown to the general public, the Department for Paranormal Research. Billions of dollars of black-ops taxpayer dollars are funneled through the CIA and military to the DPR, and some of it goes to experiments like ours here.”
“OK, so what kind of experiments are we talking about?” I asked, feeling unsure. My hairs stood on end, and the air had an electric feeling to it, as if something big was about to happen. I thought I knew what the Japanese citizens of Hiroshima and Nagasaki must have felt when they first felt the quaking of the ground and the flash of white light from the center of their cities.
“Here, we only do experiments trying to provide doorways to other worlds,” she said, pointing to her name badge. “I myself have a PhD in quantum physics, and we used all the knowledge gathered by physicists to open a quantum doorway earlier today. But something came through it just now, and it is creating havoc and death throughout the labs. I saw a few other scientists ripped apart by something that looked like demons straight from Hell. They stood about the height of a tall man, but their eyes were pure black and their skin bright red, their fingernails and toenails were just long black talons, and they spoke in some gurgling language I’ve never heard before. I don’t think anyone on this planet has seen them before, at least not in a very long time…” Her eyes became distant, as if she were deep in thought. And as she stopped talking, the earth began to shake violently.
It started as a small tremor, then rapidly built up into a high-intensity earthquake. Looking on the video feeds, I saw some of them cameras go black, but others outside in the abandoned town showed the ground begin to split open, flames and smoke shooting out as a massive demon rode out on a chariot, led by seven white horses. Looking closer, I realized the horses had exposed bone with pieces of rotting skin and fur still clinging to their corpses. Yet they ran at a furious pace, their tendons and muscles flexing under the high-quality resolution of the video feed. I saw the escaping Hummers filled with doctors and government agents in far-off shots of the video feed drive directly into a massive crack in the earth. No one came up from the smoking cracks that now appeared all around us.
Chairs in the room fell over and tables cracked and splintered as the earthquake’s tremors reached a crescendo, but they didn’t begin to recede. I saw Katherine, Rooster and Dr. Kay all holding onto whatever stable surface they could grab nearby. Katherine and Rooster were holding hands. My heart began to race in my chest, old suspicions rising to the surface as I forgot our mortal peril for a moment.
“They’re here,” Dr. Kay said, a look of total terror marring her tear-covered eyes. The floor of the room began to crack down the middle. “Get out of here!” she began to scream. None of us needed to be told twice. We ran through the still-open door and back into the world above.
As we came out into the blinding sunlight, I looked up at the small hill of the desert behind the town, and saw horrors from another world rushing towards us. The chariot flew down the hill, a wall of billowing flame and smoke rising thousands of feet into the air behind it…
***
As I came out from the dry riverbed I had taken refuge in, I realized no one was moving around me. I saw the burnt bodies of Katherine, Rooster and Dr. Kay, laying on the ground ten feet in front of me, blackened and still smoking, their melted clothes attached to their flesh now from the intense heat they had been exposed to. The demon in the chariot rushed towards me, the hooves of the seven horses creating a loud “clap-clap” noise as they drew closer, and I thought he would run me down. But with a cry, he stopped the horses only a few feet in front of me. The demons behind him regarded me with interest and suspicion. The huge one stepped down in front of me.
“Mark,” he said to me, smiling from ear to ear. Small billows of smoke escaped from his mouth as he spoke. “I am so happy to finally meet you. My name is Lucifer, or Satan, if you prefer. I have many other names, as I’m sure you know.” He laughed at this. My heart beat hard in my chest as I realized I was the only one I could see still left alive.
“What do you want with me?” I asked, trying not to make eye contact. “Please, I don’t want to die.”
“Oh, neither do I want you to die!” Satan said loudly. “If I wanted you dead, you would be dead already.” He leaned close to me, lowering his voice. “And by the way, you were right about Rooster and your girlfriend there. They were in love, cheating on you, betraying you every chance they got.
“Your suspicions have been correct for a long time,” Satan said, his face totally expressionless. “Your girlfriend has been having sex with your best friend nearly every day for the past year. When you were working to support her, she was betraying you over and over. They are traitors to you, totally unworthy of your attention. Ants in the afterbirth have more meaning than their lives did. And I did you a favor by killing them.
“They were worthless sheep, and the world is full of worthless sheep. They are more sheep for the Sheep God. But you, my friend, are different. Will you follow me?” I thought for only a moment and nodded. I had a feeling if I said no, I would die a horrible death on the spot.
“Every President and world leader in the past two centuries has given me his allegiance,” Satan said to me, showing me his perfectly white, sharpened teeth in a grisly smile. “Everyone with real power has pledged his soul to me, and in exchange, I gave them whatever they desired. And now I ask you, do you also wish for power, for money, followers, or anything else your heart desires?” I barely had to think about it.
“Of course I do,” I said quickly. With a puff of smoke, an old-looking, rolled-up parchment appeared in Satan’s left hand. He unrolled it, handing me an ancient quill pen and pointing to the bottom line. I didn’t even read the contract, nor could I if I wanted to. It was written in some language I had never seen before, almost reminding me of an ancient Tibetan script I had seen in history books.
“What is this?” I asked. He shrugged.
“It is just a contract between us, written in Enochian, the language of the angels,” he said simply, his black eyes shimmering with an inner light.
“Just sign here,” he said, pointing to a thick line on the bottom. I took the quill pen and began to move it towards the line, but he laughed.
“Not like that!” he said, motioning to a demon behind him, who came up to me and handed me a dagger. “Cut your hand and sign it in your blood.” I put the knife over my left palm, hesitating for a moment, before taking a deep breath and slashing it into the skin. A burning pain shot through my hand. I dipped the tip of the quill in the drops of blood pooling in my palm, signing my name in cursive on the parchment. When I had finished, the paper disappeared back into a puff of smoke. As soon as it did, my hand re-knitted itself, healing within seconds, and I began to feel a rush of euphoria and light enter my body.
It felt as if someone reached into my heart with invisible hands made of light and pulled out all the stress, all the anxieties and insecurities built up there. All my depression and sickness at finding out my girlfriend had been cheating on me with my best friend evaporated in an instant, and I felt pure bliss, thinking of their burnt bodies in the dirt of the destroyed ghost town.
My hearing suddenly became far more acute- I could literally hear mice and voles crawling in the dirt beneath the ground. I could hear people screaming in Hell and angels singing in Heaven. It was as if I had been given a small taste of omniscience, and I enjoyed every second of it.
“What’s… what’s happening to me?” I asked, feeling shocked.
“You are gaining the divine wisdom that I offer all my followers,” Satan said, smiling, showing his sharp, bleached-white teeth. “They don’t call me Lucifer for nothing. I bring light to those who wish it, and I bring wisdom and peace to those who are forgotten by God.
“Within twenty years, I will make you President of the United States, as long as you do as I wish. We can start your political career small, as a state representative perhaps, but it won’t last long. It never does.” Satan grinned at me, extending a huge red hand, and I shook it. A fiery heat emanated from within his smooth flesh.
“I can’t wait,” I said, excited about my future for the first time in years.

I had been unemployed and penniless for two weeks when the letter slipped under my door. It flashed as if it were made of polished silver. On the front, in flowing cursive engraved into the envelope in sharp, red letters, read two words: To Michael.
“What the hell?” I thought, going over to the door and peeking through the peephole. No one stood outside. I quickly flung the door open, looking down both sides of the apartment hallway. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast the pale, yellow wallpaper in a dim light. Everything looked faded and lifeless, as if I were stuck in some sort of Purgatory.
Sometimes, I felt like Sisyphus, constantly rolling a rock up a mountain for all eternity despite the hopelessness of it. Except, in my case, I sometimes hoped the rock might just crush me to death. Everything had been going downhill for months by this point, and I knew if it got much worse, I would end up homeless again soon within a few days.
I knelt down, examining the letter closely. I wondered if perhaps one of my neighbors in the apartment complex had gotten some of my mail by mistake and slipped it under the threshold. But the letter had no stamp and no return address. Someone had clearly just written it and slipped it under my door.
Nervously, I touched one of my fingers to it. I felt a sizzling current run from the envelope into my skin, almost like a powerful sense of static electricity. It didn’t hurt, but it caused my muscles to tighten involuntarily. All the colors in the world seemed to brighten and sparkle as I picked up the sleek, silver thing. It looked like a letter from an alien, I thought to myself with a smile.
It felt tremendously cold under my grip, as if I were holding something that just fell out of the darkness of infinite space. I could feel it sucking my body heat as if it were a living thing, like some sort of vampire. My hand went cold and numb instantly, and the smile fell off my face as a rising sense of anxiety took over. After a few seconds, the sensation started to pass.
Hesitantly, I flipped open the envelope’s cover. Hundred dollar bills fell out, scattering over the floor like dead leaves. The little green pieces of paper slowly descended through the air. It seemed as if the envelope were spitting out impossible amounts of material. More and more money fell out in clumps within the space of a few moments, followed by a piece of paper as glossy and black as obsidian. I stood in amazement around the pile. The amount of money that fell out of this slim envelope wouldn’t have fit into a man’s leather wallet, less likely this paper-thin metal envelope. I thought of how Bugs Bunny and other cartoon characters could hide their bodies behind flagpoles or other impossibly narrow hiding spots. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or run away. For a few moments, I was overwhelmed by emotion, my mind racing ahead in a stream-of-consciousness garble.
My first rational thought was that it was all counterfeit, and that this was some sort of prank. The envelope could probably be sealed and have all the air sucked out of it to make it seem like it was holding much less than it was. That’s probably why it was metal, since flimsy paper wouldn’t make an airtight seal. I scoffed as I thought about it, not sure what I should feel at that moment. I wondered if someone was secretly videotaping me somewhere. If it was a prank, I bet all of those bills were counterfeit as well.
Then the silver envelope started to dissolve in my fingers. It looked like it was being eaten by a corrosive acid as it turned into ashes. Circular spots of gray dust settled on my hand, so light and smooth that they felt like mere air. Within seconds, the envelope had disappeared completely.
“Neat trick,” I muttered to myself. I had no idea who was behind this. My curiosity was piqued, however. Kneeling down, I picked up the black piece of paper. It felt like it was made of some sort of plasticky, unbreakable material. Its glossy surface felt as smooth and warm as a living creature under my fingers. I started reading the blood-red ink scrawled across its front in a beautiful, flowing cursive script. This is what it said:
“Dear Michael,
“I’m sure you are very confused right now. I know of your struggles, your hardships, your triumphs and failures. I know all of your thoughts and feelings, even at this very moment. Indeed, I am closer to you than your own jugular vein, your own heart.
“For I am GOD, the Creator of the Universe, the Source of Life, the Eternal. People call me many different names, as you well know, but my Archons call me the Pleroma, the Fullness, just as the ancient seers used to call me.
“For I fill all things. My consciousness spans all of the universe and beyond. It spreads forever outwards like an endless wasteland. It is within the hearts of all beings, smaller than the thumb. It is eternity. I have always existed and always will- like the snake eating its own tail.”
I was sweating heavily by this point. I felt an insane urge to laugh at the ridiculous letter. God sending a letter? Didn’t he have email? This image made me descend into a fit of giggling that bordered on madness. It threatened to smash through my mind like the waters of a collapsing dam.
My heart was pounding and palpitating at the same time. Something in the letter had a sense of power, after all. I could feel its subtle energy vibrating under my grasp as it trickled into my hands, almost like the heat of a tropical sun. Inhaling deeply, I continued reading.
“I know what you’re thinking. GOD sending a letter? Doesn’t he have email?” I gasped, falling back and letting the letter drop from my numb fingers. It descended slowly to the ground, drifting in lazy arcs. As it landed on the kitchen floor, though, something strange happened.
The blood-red ink began to emanate a blinding, crimson light. Its bloody glow radiated out of every single letter on the page. The glossy paper curled and writhed, lengthening and twisting into a long cylinder.
In a few seconds, eyes appeared along with sharp teeth and a grinning mouth. I looked down into the face of a viper. The crimson glow now came from its two reptilian eyes. Its jaw unhinged as it slithered toward me. From its mouth, I heard words that shook the ground like bomb blasts. I quickly realized this monstrous talking snake was reading the rest of the letter. This is what it spoke:
“I know you well, Michael. You will not believe unless you see miracles. But I have miracles for you, more than you will ever know.
“I have existed in eternity for so long that my consciousness is warping, twisting, becoming insane, forming back in on itself. I don’t know how to stop it.
“However, I enjoy my stories, and I know you are a writer who is down on his luck. You are special in a way you don’t understand. Within a few rare people, there is an essence, a divine spark of something ancient, some microcosm of the fullness, some piece of the primordial Sophia who I lost at the beginning. When I find these people, when they have progressed to a high enough level, I give them the choice, as you now have. For narrow is the path that leads to Heaven, but wide and deep are the paths to Hell. Not all who are called will ascend, but I believe in you, and I believe you will make the right choice.
“Contained within this envelope is $20,000. Every Sunday morning, a silver envelope will appear under your door with more money. I want you to write the most interesting stories you can and put them in there for me. The Archons with the faces of men and beasts enjoy singing them to me.
“If you refuse, the money is yours, but you will never hear from me again in this life.”
The snake gave a hissing shriek, a sound that slowed down and turned mechanical, like the grinding of many gears and the tearing of metal. Then, like the envelope, its body began to fade away into ashes, dissolving in growing circles. Soon, it was no more than gray dust on the linoleum floor, just like the envelope itself.
***
The rest of the week passed in a blur. I didn’t sleep much. Every time I did, I would see pieces of paper morphing, turning into talking snakes. Sometimes I dreamed of great singing winged beasts with four faces on their alien heads: a lion, an eagle, an ox and a man. Each of the faces faced in a different direction, like the four points of a compass. Were these the Archons the snake had mentioned?
I tried writing, but nothing worthy of an infinite God would come to my mind. The entire thing seemed absurd. Did God actually enjoy stories? Well, I thought to myself, if he created the universe, perhaps he did. Perhaps he only created the universe to watch the stories of each individual life passing through in its various stages of birth, suffering, aging and death.
Late on Saturday night, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table, drinking cup after cup of coffee. My laptop was open in front of me, the blank, white page staring back at me with a mocking glee. What kind of story was worthy of a divine being, after all?
After many hours of writer’s block, the answer hit me like a bolt of lightning: a horror story. After all, if the Old Testament was right, God was jealous and infantile. He got mad like a spurned lover when he saw people worshiping other gods. He drowned the entire world because he was somewhat disappointed in the first result. I figured a being of such a mind would certainly appreciate some more horror, as I did myself. After all, if I was made in his image, then I assume we should have similar tastes.
***
The envelope came sliding under the door at the exact moment the Sun started to rise on Sunday morning. With the finished product tucked into my nervous, sweating hands, I reached down and opened the cover. Enormous amounts of money came tumbling out. I didn’t even see all the bills, though. Feeling weak and anxious, I closed my eyes and slipped the folded pages of my story into the silver envelope. The currents of electricity from it seemed to sizzle my skin as I closed the cover.
I wondered if I would ever find out how much God liked my story. Would he send another talking snake with a voice like rushing water?
By the end of the day, I would know exactly how much God liked it. He liked it so much, in fact, that he decided to make it come true.
***
I fell asleep for a few hours, totally exhausted from working through the night. But when I awoke, I felt a surge of confidence and bliss I hadn’t known for many years. I was now financially stable- hell, more than that. With the $40,000 I had now received, I could pay off all my debts and still have at least $10,000 to spare.
I opened my eyes, looking around, feeling dazed. The horrific dream I had been having about sailing on an endless ocean surrounded by a thick blanket of shadows seemed to merge with the brightness of the real world for a few moments. I blinked rapidly, wondering if I was still dreaming. For some reason, I wasn’t on my bed anymore. I wasn’t even in my apartment.
I found myself laying on a cold, blood-stained steel table in a small concrete room. A bare incandescent bulb flickered overhead. The darkness of the claustrophobic chamber seemed to swallow its dim light like a hungry mouth.
“Holy shit,” I said, my heart dropping. I saw the door to my room standing wide open. It was a hospital door with a small observation window built into the top. The glass looked cracked and yellowed with age. Spatters of what looked like ancient blood covered the front of it. I felt a shock of fear course through my body like lightning as I recognized the setting from my story.
Past the door, I saw a dark hallway filled with overturned gurneys and debris. I got up, walking slowly out of my prison-like cell. Strewn across the hallway lay bloody scalpels, syringes filled with some strange, sparkling black fluid, bandages spattered with pus and gore, and even a dried human finger. The finger had curved in its dessicated state. As it lay on the filthy floor, it seemed to beckon me forward.
I tried to calm myself and remember the story. I had written it fast, and under the influence of too many weed gummies. Now I felt very sober indeed.
I walked down the hallway, feeling sticky fluids crunching under my feet. Something like pus seemed to glisten from the cracks in the floor, as if the hospital itself were a living thing and we were all just bacteria in its giant body. The walls seemed to breathe, slowly inhaling and exhaling as a slight breeze blew past me, constantly reversing directions with every cycle of it.
With no better ideas, I knelt down and carefully scooped up a needle with the wicked-looking black stuff swirling inside. It looked like someone had put glitter in some filthy car’s waste oil. I carefully wrapped the tip in cloth and put it in my pocket. Perhaps it would come in useful somehow, I thought. I had no better ideas, and my hope that there would be a way out and a happy ending to this had almost completely faded to nothing.
***
In the story I had written for God, the building was a decrepit, hellish mental asylum in the center of the universe. God was kept as a patient in the basement, insane and rambling like a syphilis patient in his final days. I imagined God as a kind of massive Nietzsche in Nietzsche’s last days of life: a man with the same prominent Germanic mustache, his eyes crossed and a straitjacket hugging his body, sitting in a wheelchair and staring at the ocean as he slowly loses the last fragile splinters of his sanity.
The staff of the hospital were his Archons, the archangels with the faces of men and beasts. They read to God all day, read him books, music, poetry or anything else to help him pass eternity and relieve the incessant boredom. But God was so far gone, they didn’t even know if he could hear them most of the time.
I had no idea how to get out of here, or whether there was a way out. I hadn’t put any in the story. As I wandered down the halls, a horrified, painful wailing began beneath my feet. The floor started to tremble with the power of it. It sounded like a man shrieking as his body burns alive combined with the tortured squealing of tearing metal. It passed through the air like thunder. Dust fell from the ceiling. The many cracks in the walls opened and lengthened.
I shook, my heart trembling in my chest. My legs felt weak. I walked forward like a sleepwalker. In front of me, I saw a sign with a staircase pointing at the end of the hall. There I saw an old bunker door, thick and sturdy. On the front, barely legible, a sign lay reading: “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.” Underneath, a smaller one read: “Psychosis Unit.”
After taking a deep breath, I opened the rusted door and started to descend.
***
The walls breathed all around me as a fiery, glowing light shone far at the bottom. It felt as if I were descending into the bowels of Hell itself. For all I knew, perhaps I was.
The stairs dropped down a steel tunnel for what looked like thousands of feet. The steps had strange gold and silver filaments woven together in long, curving strands that made the entire construct look like an enormous spiderweb. It had no handrail, and the steep, narrow steps fell down like the slope of a mountain. Vertigo twisted through me as I focused on my breathing, slowly making my way down, intent on not tripping. I had gone for about five minutes when I nearly died.
That roaring, shrieking, tearing wail started up again. As the stairs started to tremble and the walls rippled like contracting flesh all around me, I felt myself thrown forward. I screamed with terror, windmilling my arms. Hundreds of steep steps loomed below me, a very long, bone-shattering fall. I had visions of my bloody, broken body being returned to my family, the splintered bones all poking out of the skin..
I slipped, trying to brace myself, but my foot came down on empty air. I started to fall, knowing I had lost. The absolute animal panic of that moment made everything slow down and grow bright At that moment, though, something grabbed me from behind. I felt myself lifted off my feet as a smell like lavender and rotting bodies filled the area. Two skeletal hands held me under the shoulders with a grip like iron.
I turned my head, seeing something monstrous, the decaying body of an angel. It had two massive, black wings extending on both sides of its body like the wings of a bat. Countless pale, squirming maggots fell from those wings every moment, dripping like raindrops in a heavy storm.
Its head was spun around backward, so that I couldn’t see its face, but growing from the back of its scalp, I saw many strange, black, snake-like creatures writhing and twisting. They stared at me with their pale, white eyes. Their reptilian faces split into a grin as we reached the bottom of the stairway and the creature set me down gently on the ground. Those snake tentacles had far too many teeth.
It turned its body so that its face was looking at me. This thing had a face like a skull, pieces of necrotic flesh still clinging tightly to the bones. Two dead, cataract eyes stared out. Its teeth looked as sharp as needles. On its body, it wore softly glowing silver armor. It even had a sword sheathed around its waist.
I backpedaled away from this abomination, but it put its hands up.
“I am the Angel of Death,” it said. “I am not here to hurt you. We are to bring you to the center, to see for yourself the truth of all things.”
“We?” I asked, looking around. Behind me, I saw more angels, massive creatures standing twenty feet tall with four faces on their heads. As they turned, I realized these were the Archons. The faces of oxen, men, eagles and lions all looked dispassionately down at me, some with hunger in their eyes and others with hatred. They all had on glowing armor and swords, like the Angel of Death.
I realized I was no longer in the building. Its breathing walls loomed behind me. Trickles of pus and blood dripped from cracks in the walls. Its exterior seemed to shiver with excitement.
I looked up, seeing a sky as dark as an abyss stretching overhead. In front of me lay a wasteland of rocks and fine, black sand. Shadows pressed in on all sides, but far off, there was the flashing of fire.
I squinted, seeing a massive door of finely-spun gold and silver thread a few hundred feet away across the wasteland. It opened onto something like a volcano. Torrents of lava splashed and bubbled deep inside, sending thick, choking black smoke into the air.
Around the door was a wall rising hundreds of feet of air. It looked like smooth, polished obsidian. It gleamed mockingly, cutting off my view of what horrors lay behind it.
“Time to go,” the Angel of Death whispered in a voice like smoke. It came up behind me, its tentacle creatures snapping and biting at each other like rabid dogs. A cold, rotted hand was placed gently on my shoulder. I shuddered.
The Archons towered over me on all sides, their silver armor glowing with a soft blue light. They said nothing as they accompanied me toward the fiery door, surrounding me like guards accompanying an inmate to the electric chair.
***
Around the door, hundreds more Archons stood in a semi-circle. They all murmured and chanted in different languages, creating a low, constant susurration. Their eyes looked cold and dead, as lifeless as those of corpses.
I felt immense fear. My heart palpitated wildly in my chest. I knew I was looking death in the face. Whatever was through that door, I did not want to see it.
I heard someone whispering, a soothing female voice that came across so softly that I didn’t know at first if I was imagining it. I looked at the Angel of Death, wondering if it was talking, but its skeletal, bone-white mouth stayed firmly shut. I listened to the words as a sense of light and peace filled my chest, suddenly feeling as if I was not alone in this.
“Through that gate is the Demiurge, he who imprisoned our immortal souls into these dying bodies at the beginning of time. He is evil, as cold and black as the endless void between stars…”
I felt a warm, calming presence for a few moments as the words faded away. No one else seemed to be able to hear them. The Archons hadn’t reacted. And then the terror and anxiety returned.
“See your master,” one of the Archons standing next to me hissed as they pushed me toward the door. His human face contorted into a sneer as he looked down on me with contempt. “He created you from dust. You’re no more than a Golem wrapped in skin. Just dust! But we, the holy ones, were created from light.” He spat with his human face. The lion face roared, its deadly eyes glittering with hatred. The ox head showed only contempt as the eagle gave a predatory glare.
I stepped forward and entered the sacred gate.
***
Through its threshold, I saw a face of infinite light soaring hundreds of feet in the air, blinding and radiant. Its eyes seemed like two spinning black holes. Its visage constantly shimmered and morphed, extending into other dimensions. Its geometry shifted in ways far beyond Euclidean spacetime. Underneath it loomed fields of lava and fire. Strange, bone-white tentacles writhed from the mass of light surrounding the face of God, slithering and undulating like snakes. It floated high above the hellish wasteland underneath it.
Then it seemed to focus on me. A presence outside of time and space invaded my consciousness. I heard a whispering start in the back of my mind.
“We are one. Feel the fullness of God…”
Something black and empty pierced my heart as that horrid voice twisted through my body. At that moment, I saw horrible things. The cold reptilian presence ran through my mind like an eternal scream. It felt like skeletal hands were gripping my heart, squeezing it into a pulp. Death flashed through my body, jarring and dissonant. Visions ran through my mind. Mountains of corpses and worlds of screaming beings sucked into black holes suffocated my senses. I heard an insane laugh, a sound like a bomb blast, full of sadism and mirth.
The Archons had come behind me through the gate. One of them turned to me, looking down on me like an ant.
“You will be fed to the mouth of God,” he said calmly, “so that your essences can become one. God wishes to have you with him for all eternity, talespinner.” A sense of panic gripped me at that point. They started to close in around me, trying to force me forward. I knew I needed to act, to escape this insane trap.
I grabbed the needle full of sparkling black fluid I had picked up in the hospital, hoping it was some sort of eldritch poison. Only one Archon stood between me and the gate with the rest at my sides. Spinning around, I ran at the one in my way with the needle pointed out. The angel had a look of surprise as I brought the tip of it down into his exposed calf and pushed the plunger. It brought a clawed hand down and swiped at me, sending me flying back through the gate. I landed hard on the black sand, gasping and sore. But the scream of agony coming from the Archon told me it had worked.
The effect was nearly instantaneous. The angel’s skin blackened and turned necrotic in spreading patches, rising up from his leg to the rest of his body in the space of a few heartbeats. All four faces began to drip blood and gnash at the air. He began going insane, smashing his human face into the obsidian wall over and over.
The other Archons started to run forward to grab me, but the insane, transformed creature took his sword and started blindly slashing at the air. All of his faces were crying and spitting blood now, and even his eyes had started to rot and liquefy in their sockets. The sword crashed into another Archon, decapitating its strange, four-faced head and sending it flying into the lava that bubbled only feet away. The rest turned their attention back to this new threat. I pushed myself up and ran for my life.
There was that horrific wailing again, the predatory roaring that shook the ground like an earthquake. It was the same shrieking that nearly killed me on those endless stairs. I realized with horror that the scream came from God. His face had contorted into unbridled fury. The radiant, spiraling light started moving forward, its thousands of chalk-white tentacles writhing faster, whipping everything in their path. They began to blindly grab Archons and tear them into pieces or throw them into the fire.
God crashed through the gate, splitting the obsidian wall into fragments that flew like bullets through the air. I sprinted as fast as I could back toward the mental asylum, the only source of potential safety I could see. I had little hope that it would help, however. Then that voice came into my mind again, the soothing voice that sounded almost like a loving mother.
“This is a place of shadows,” the whisper said in my mind again, a soft, female voice whose tone was as cooling as balm on a wound. “This is a mirage, one of the emanations above the source. You have the divine spark within you. You can change the emanations with your mind if you concentrate. Use the divine spark. Focus on that door…”
The decrepit hospital building seemed to be shivering and trying to pull itself back from the chaos and mayhem drawing near. Behind me, God moved forward like a creeping lava flow, destroying everything in his path. His cold, reptilian eyes looked down with contempt and a strange emptiness as he came forward.
“You must be one with me. Let me taste your bones. Let me drink your blood. Let your essence enter into me, the infinite, the divine," God shrieked in a voice like thunder.
That enormous face radiating light and insanity continued to sweep toward me. I knew it would catch me in seconds if I didn’t get out.
The door to the hospital breathed and dripped rancid, yellow pus from the top of its threshold. Beyond it, the strange silver stairs rose thousands of feet, like the building itself. I blinked fast, imagining my apartment as I got within a few steps of the door. The ground ripped itself apart behind me, cracking and falling down into an endless abyss as I jumped forward.
I felt a rising sense of energy in my chest, a spinning around my heart and a high-pitched whining in my ears as the door rippled in front of me like a mirage. Suddenly, the image changed, and I saw my apartment through it.
A tentacle as cold as liquid nitrogen snatched my ankle as I flew through the door. My apartment stood in front of me, normal and clean. The tentacles from the mass of light whipped out crazily in all directions, smashing everything within reach.
“You cannot leave!” God screamed as I felt myself being dragged back. Panicking, I thought of the only thing that might work. Focusing again on the door, I imagined it slamming shut. The swirling vortex of light filled my heart, and for a moment, I felt whole.
The door slammed closed with a sound like a gunshot, cutting off the tentacle like a scalpel. The dismembered tentacle still whipped crazily after the door sliced it off. It stayed locked around my ankle, even after it stopped moving. I ended up going to the kitchen and cutting it off with a knife.
The entire time, it dripped a strange kind of blood: silvery and filled with rainbows, like liquid opal.

Sara Lee was bustling through her to-do list with an eager enthusiasm. It was Tuesday. Tuesday was her favorite day at the library. The library was closed on Monday and there was always so much to do after the long weekend. She always liked to map out her day with a list on paper so she could cross things off as she completed them but after nineteen years at the library, taking care of things was like making her bed at home – they were second nature to her; however, her memory was slipping, and she didn’t want to forget anything important. Sara Lee loved leaving her favorite things until the end of the day as a reward for all the other tasks she completed.
​
Sara Lee began by turning on all the lights on the main floor, in the offices and in the conference room. She straightened tables and chairs in the personal study rooms and in the section of open computer terminals. She had watched this room evolve with technology. She smiled at the fact that most of the teenagers who came now didn’t even bring a computer but just their phone. Even with her slight limp, she didn’t mind making her way through both floors of her familiar landscape. As she made her way down the rows of tomes, she pushed books back into place which were pulled from their spot on the shelf; books which were nearly chosen by a patron and yet were left poised in the moment.
​
She washed the glass front doors which were covered in tiny handprints. She reveled in the proof that little people still came to the library. She pictured George who would toddle into the children’s section, pick a row, run to the center where he was surrounded by countless options, point his chubby finger out in front of him, close his eyes, turn a circle, step forward and pull out the first book his finger touched. She smiled at the recollection. George is now twenty-something and just finishing his fourth year at law school.
​
Sara Lee straightened the children’s area and disinfected the toys and tiny chairs. She placed the animal shaped pillows on the tiny orange couch. She wiped down the oversized armchair for Erin who came in twice a week for Story Time. Erin’s voice was full of drama and you could always tell what character she was reading.
​
It was time to open the front doors. She recognized all three faces peering in the tempered glass waiting for her to open the doors. She flipped the switch on the locking mechanism that allowed the doors to open. She stepped back with a flourish. There was Kenzie Walton with her five-year-old son and baby Hannah in her car seat. A slightly ruffled, white-haired gentleman named Eldon Hutchins who smiled shyly every morning at Sara Lee as the doors opened, followed the Waltons into the library. “Good morning, Mrs. Walton and Master James. How is our tiny Hannah today? How do you do Mr. Hutchins?”
​
James smiled up at her with breakfast blueberry jam on his face. “Hi Mrs. Sara Lee! Hannah cried all night.”
​
Sara Lee bent to his height. “You are such a good big brother. What did you do for her?”
​
“I threw my favorite red car into her bed! She held it all night. Now she won’t give it back.”
​
“Is it okay if she borrows it a little while longer?”
​
“I s’pose. Mom said we could come to the library if I let her have it.”
​
“You are a good man, Master James.”
​
“Thanks Mrs. Sara.” He shouted as he ran toward the children’s section. Sara Lee laughed after him and his mom followed, pleased he was already picking out something to read out loud on the orange couch.
​
Mr. Hutchins was following slowly behind. He had taken his hat off and it was in his hands that shook just a little. He took Sara Lee by the hand and softly said, “Good morning Mrs. Nielsen.”
​
“Oh Eldon, call me Sara Lee.” They shared this exchange a couple of times a week. Eldon came in to read the morning paper. He wore a blue bow tie with a button-down white shirt. He was a widower who walked the half block to the library every morning. He always came into the library in his nicest clothes. Shaved and smelling of a weathered aftershave. Following the loss of his wife Debbie, his shirts were never quite as crisp and often had tiny burn marks from the iron being a bit too hot. She watched him as he found his seat by the big bay window and settled in to read the latest news.
​
She was eager to get to the next activity. It is what she looked forward to most. She opened the closet near the back and pulled out the cloth wagon and folded it out to its original shape. She grabbed the keys on the hook in the Employee Only section of the offices and went out the front doors to the sidewalk in front of the building to gather the books from the Book Drop out front. It was nearly filled to the top after the three-day weekend.
​
She straightened the covers of the books which had dropped in haphazardly and stacked the wagon full. She may need to come back because they were towering with a precarious intensity in the wagon. She locked back up the remaining books. She would take this lot to the office and come back for the rest. After climbing the slight hill back up the building’s front doors, her leg twinged with tiredness from being on it all morning. The ache reminded her of him. The accident which had irreparably damaged her leg had taken the love of her life too soon. But she didn’t like to think about the accident, so she pictured him instead. He was broad shouldered, dark haired, quick to laugh and madly in love with her. Hugh. Hugh Nielsen.
​
She unloaded her treasures on the long table she used to sort them and headed out the front door for the second half. It nearly filled her cart for the return trip, but she fit them all in the wheeled wagon and headed back inside. She returned the keys to their hook and got comfortable in her chair behind the table. Her curiosity was piqued. She couldn’t wait to dive into the books and see what treasures awaited her. Only this time it wasn’t the adventures she was seeking in the chapters but the tiny trinkets, she liked to call them glimpses, that the readers left behind in the books they borrowed from the library.
​
She started on the first pile flipping through the pages of each book and scanning it back into the system. She moved the scanned books to another table, and she separated them into the areas for re-shelving according to the Dewey Decimal system. She was several books in before a piece of paper came fluttering down on her from the pages of a children’s book.
​
It was a Dental Report for Dylan. It had little red stars on either side of his name. At the top on the right, there was a note that read: Great Patient – thanks! It had check marks beside several items at the top that they had completed at his visit.
​
Oral Exam and diagnosis
​
Dental x-rays
​
Floride application
​
And then the bad news at the bottom of the page:
​
Plaque
​
Cavities: 1
​
Should floss daily
​
Brush twice daily
​
And this note in cursive in the notes section: Please slow down and brush well around your gums – especially back molars. And it’s very important to start flossing!
​
Sara Lee giggled to herself. Dylan was a good patient but not a good brusher or flosser. She was putting together his story and laughing at his instruction from his medical professional – in writing. She wondered if anyone had seen the report, like Dylan’s Mom, before he tucked it into his library book. She imagined Dylan’s mom rushing him to the library late Saturday night to get his books in the box by the deadline so they would not incur a fine without realizing his dental note was tucked inside.
​
The next book that dropped a secret pulled Sara Lee’s eyebrows into a worried crease. From a book called So Much for Love: How I Survived a Toxic Relationship by Sophie Lambda fell a photo of a young couple with their arms around each other. Or rather, he was standing behind her with his arms wrapped entirely around her. They were standing in front of a college library. His face had been blackened out with a sharpie. Sara Lee prayed this young girl had made her way out of this relationship and was safe now.
​
Ironically, in the little checked-out book, Crochet for Beginners, a crochet hook fell out which had been holding a place near the front of the book. She guessed that whoever had begun the hobby, hadn’t made a regular pastime of it. Maybe they would come back to the library looking for the book and bookmark to begin again.
​
Sara Lee was whittling down the stacks. She had just over a dozen left to go and she was gaining speed. Finding three glimpses in one day was unheard of so she couldn’t believe that there was anything else to find in the remaining volumes. But with only four books to go for Tuesday’s detective work, she didn’t expect to find anything remaining. But a folded letter and college lined paper fell from the pages of a book which was fading around the ages.
​
The handwriting had the jagged sway of aged handwriting. She unfolded the letter, and the first three words caught her attention and her heart seemed to stop in her throat:
​
Dear Sara Lee,
​
She slipped the paper over to see what if anything was on the back of it. Was this truly for her?
​
I look forward to seeing you every day here at the library. I tried to pluck up the courage to ask you to dinner with me, but I just could not do it. I have never seen anyone I thought was as beautiful as my wife until I met you. And everyday you open the door for me with a smile which is beautiful kindness. Would you consider going with me to lunch one day?
​
On the day you find this letter, please come find me in the library. If the answer is yes, please hand me a copy of The Blue Bedroom and Other Short Stories by Rosamande Pilcher and I will take you to get a sandwich, we will go to a park, and I will read you a short story. If your answer is no, please hand me this letter with a smile. I will tuck it in my pocket and never let on that I put my wish to paper.
​
Sincerely,
​
Eldon Hutchins, your library friend
​
Sara Lee looked around her to see if anyone was watching as she brushed the tears from her face. No one had told her she was beautiful since her beloved had passed all those years ago. She stood. But then not knowing exactly what she was going to do next, she sat back down.
​
She stood again. She knew what she needed to do. She finished scanning the books that lay on the table. She put them in the order they needed to be returned to the shelves as she always did. She made her way to the library office where the director sat at her desk typing an e-mail, waited until she was done typing and asked her a question. Carla, the library director, smiled and told her she thought it was a good idea.
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Sara Lee found the shelf she was looking for right away, pulled a book from the shelf and went looking for Eldon. She found him in his usual spot the window. She handed him the letter and smiled. And then she handed him the book. He reached for his hat. And for her hand.