Continued from part one.
In the mirror I saw a figure of the darkness next to the foot of my bed. I screamed, only for the figure to dash back inside my closet and close the doors behind it. To the naked eye, the doors seemed to roll back on their own, but because of the many mirrors inside my room, I could see the shadowy figure.
“What’s wrong?” my mom burst into my room not even four seconds later.
“J-j-just a nightmare?” I was uncertain if my imagination was too strong for my own good so I held back on the truth.
I wish I told her the truth. That wasn’t the last time I would see the figure in the mirror.
It happened again, about five years later. Yeah it didn’t happen right away. I wondered if the figure I saw was friendly and I simply scared it away for a while. That was my first mindset, but then I second guessed myself and simply thought maybe it was just my imagination playing with me.
At age 12, things started to become rocky with my parents. They fought over the same things, but they also fought over me. I had gone into the world of music to the point where I wanted to take up guitar, piano, and violin. My mom took one side of the stance where she didn’t believe that I could commit to any of them. My dad believed the opposite, fighting that I could do anything if I set my mind to it.
Again, conflict resided. My angry mother could still barge into my room if I didn’t lock the doors. She once found me writing, insisted on me showing her what I wrote, when I resisted she pulled it away from me and read my vampire fanfiction.
I was an angsty girl. Hence my writings were a bit suggestive at the time. My mom and my dad both read my work. My dad actually liked what I wrote aside from the fact it was about the supernatural. Of course, my mother again got mad since she’s the most religious in our family. She was, in a sense, a heretic.
Needless to say, since my family’s religion absolutely detests “spiritualistic and demonic” media, I got grounded. Also to clarify, yes this also meant I never read or watched the Harry Potter series, including the Twilight series. Although I don’t think I missed out on much with the Twilight series lol. Eventually I managed to rent a book that I got from my school’s library, called Hush, Hush, which laid in my backpack, tempting me to read it.
So there I was, no laptop and in my room. I didn’t really care since I had a guitar and a notebook. I still could find pleasure outside of my laptop, which of course my mother absolutely detested as well. Whenever she grounded me, she used to take away any kind of toy. Then, once she realized I could read on my own and was making up stories when I couldn’t read, she began to take books away. Punishments with my family wasn’t really a punishment, I could always find a way to entertain myself. Even if she took my notebooks away, I’d still end up daydreaming about something, even act out scenes I’d come up with in my head.
Now you can understand why I pushed off the incident with the figure in the mirror as a figment of my imagination. I had figured it was a draft, that the wheels and tracking were well lubricated with some kind of oil that makes it hard for them to stay in place.
Sitting on my bed at age 12, I leant back and closed my eyes. I had notebooks, several books, a keyboard for me to practice piano on, and a guitar. It wasn’t a big deal. (Yes I was a spoiled child. I’m owning up to this since I was the only girl among four boys- plus I was also 13 years younger than my youngest brother.) However I was so tired, that I decided on lazily daydreaming. Besides, I could always sneak my laptop back late at night.
As a devoted writer, I continued on imagining the story I began. I imagined what it would feel like to have fangs teasing the throat of the neck, how it would be to be kissed and then bitten by a vampire... my mind was rolling and it didn’t stop. I was a twelve year old girl going through puberty.
I told myself to stop and I decided to pull out the book, smiling at my little success. I went back to the page I left off on at the library earlier that day. I buried myself into the book and became sleepy. I nearly finished the book by the time I set the book aside and stupidly put it on my bedside table.
I passed out soon after. I don’t recall what kind of dream I had at first, all I know is that sometime later in the night, I woke up again, but I could not move my body at all. I looked around my room, which was now fully dark. I barely could recognize anything around me. The familiar outline of my vanity was gone, any silver reflection was gone, I did not see a single mirror, so I knew I was no longer in my room anymore.
A slight humming noise was around me, the room I was in lit up with a red flashing light. It felt like I was being pinned down by some kind of restraint system, so I looked down and noticed these short pale creatures crawling on top of me, towards my face. I felt a sharp sting in my leg, and I knew one of the creatures had bit me already.
It became to feel like sharp knives stabbing me all over my body, until five creatures met my face, their eyes sullen- beady- staring down at me with bloodied mouths and lunged at my neck, causing me to scream..The sound finally piercing through and I could hear myself breathing again, I could hear my screams and my frantic prayers escaping my lips.
Had my mom not come into my room and slapped me on my face, jolting me out of it- whatever it was- I would have seen more than I could bare. She saw the book and her anger brewed even more at me.
“Are you tempting the demons to attack you or something?” she fumed and took the book off of the table. She led me down to the entryway and opened the garage door. “Put it in there.”
I followed her command and put the book into the garage. I knew it wasn’t the book’s fault, but it was associated with “demunz” in her eyes, so I didn’t dare argue against her.
“Do you want to die? If you keep associating with demons, you know god will never forgive you. You won’t inherit everlasting life, only everlasting death. You know that right?!?” she yelled at me, had my dad been there that night- he would have stopped her from going that far. I suddenly missed him.
Her anger then died down after she ranted at me, once she recognized that I was still petrified. She at least brought me to, which made me thankful, but I also felt betrayed. She was supposed to protect me, but all she cared about was the idea of force feeding me her belief system. All she cared about was telling me I was wrong.
“I’m-” she had begun, and I just looked away from her and saw a shadow in my mirror again, standing behind my mom. It didn’t feel as eerie anymore. It felt almost comforting to see it, it moved from my mom to me. A figure of it’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, and I felt the cool breeze raise goosebumps at it’s touch.
“Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?” her voice lowered.
“I’ll sleep alone,” I remarked, still stung with the hurt from her hurtful remark.
She looked hurt for a second, but then returned to her normal frown. “I’ll sleep in the little entertainment room next to you, if you need me just yell out again.”
“Fine,” I simply just pulled my blankets over me again, waited for her to leave, then cried into my pillow.
My mom left, not seeing the dark figure in the mirror and went into the adjacent room. At her departure, the darkness came into my bed, the eerie feeling no longer there and it snuggled against me.
Shh. It hushed me and brushed my hair.
I didn’t question it. I had been afraid of it for so long, but with the sweet affection it gave me- the affection I desired and longed for from both of my parents.
The falling tears turned into a silent sob, my body shook against the bed, little breathy whimpers muffled by my pillow.
Shh, it repeated until I fell asleep again.
When morning came, I woke up with a sore neck and I was irritated with my mom. I remembered what happened and then I snuck out to my laptop and searched up what had happened to me. I learned it was sleep paralysis and figured maybe my imagination went too far with the vampire thing. I was stiff, my body was so sore and I saw my closet doors closed.
Again, I had felt as if my imagination had made it up. I knew the kind of comfort it gave me is what I desperately longed for. It gave me what my family didn’t, and I hated myself. I thought it was a figment of my imagination since it knew all the things I wanted. That is, until something else showed up. The shadow figure in the mirrors was just the start of it all.

~Wooden interior door market~ is anticipated to grow at a considerable CAGR of 5.5% during the forecast period (2024-2031).Wooden interior door refers to the door core made of pine and fir among other materials as the main material, which is filled with bridge hole mechanical board, outer fiberboard, and solid wood veneer after high-temperature hot pressing, and the surface is painted or made of PVC.
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A booming construction industry signifies more buildings being built, translating directly to a greater need for interior doors in both residential and non-residential spaces.This includes new homes, apartments, offices, hotels, hospitals, and various other structures, all of which require doors to delineated spaces. A robust construction industry often leads to an increase in renovation and remodeling projects. Wooden interior doors are popular options for such renovations due to their durability, ability to be renovated, and aesthetic charm. Many authorities such as governments are actively investing in infrastructure development and affordable housing projects. For instance, in May 2024 The US Census Bureau announced construction spending during March 2024 was estimated at a seasonally adjusted annual rate of $2.1 trillion. This increase in the government- sponsored construction industry is creating a significant need for building materials, including wooden interior doors.
full report of Wooden Interior Door Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/wooden-interior-door-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2024-2031
· Base year- 2024
· Forecast period- 2024-2031
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Market Segmentation
Global Wooden Interior Door Market by Product Type
o Panel Door
o Bypass Door
o Bi-fold Door
o Pocket Door
Global Wooden Interior Door Market by End-User
o Residential
o Non-residential
Regional Analysis
o North America
o United States
o Canada
o Europe
o UK
o Germany
o Italy
o Spain
o France
o Rest of Europe
o Asia-Pacific
o China
o India
o Japan
o South Korea
o Rest of Asia-Pacific
o Rest of the World
o Latin America
o Middle East & Africa
Company Profiles
o Allegheny Wood Works, Inc.
o Appalachian Wood Products, Inc.
o Bayer Built Inc.
o Contractors Wardrobe
o Concept SGA
o Fenesta
o Hume Doors & Timber Group
o Lynden Door, Inc.
o Sun Mountain, Inc.
o Steves& Sons
o Simpson Door Company
o Trustile Doors LLC
o USA Wood Door Corp.
o Woodgrain
The Report Covers

Market value data analysis of 2023 and forecast to 2031.
Annualized market revenues ($ million) for each market segment.
Country-wise analysis of major geographical regions.
Key companies operating in the global wooden interior door market. Based on the availability of data, information related to new product launches, and relevant news is also available in the report.
Analysis of business strategies by identifying the key market segments positioned for strong growth in the future.
Analysis of market-entry and market expansion strategies.
Competitive strategies by identifying ‘who-stands-where’ in the market.

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There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

I played from 2013-2018 and came back to see everything so much more expensive! I remember back in 2013 I could get most apparel and accessories for under $200, hell I have so many cute items that I bought back in 2013/14 worth under $100. Now most basic things start at $150, and most things worth wearing is upwards of $500. The prices of the summer apparel are honestly ridiculous, and most of the recent challenges have been Summer 2024 locked which really sucks.
You get $200 back for doing a challenge with requirements worth $1200, make it make sense. If you've been a long time player you might meet some of the requirements without having to buy anything new, but I can't imagine what it's like for new players. And the amount of in app purchases... damn. In my country, one HA is $20. I own two HA'S, one simple tiara that you get anyways and another l which I won, and can't even wear because it's at a high level. You can sub that with certain hats, but then come the props! I've seen so many glorious outfits not being voted as high as the other despite looking better than the latter one, only because they had props and the former one didn't. At this point I wouldn't even mind seeing the occasional ad if it meant they could decrease the prices of things.
The voting system almost seems rigged too sometimes, why are we being shown an outfit from someone with a level 20 account, against someone with a level 120 account? It would make more sense for us to vote between two similar levels, or ones with similar closet value. It honestly feels kinda shitty having to vote between someone with a cute outfit at a low level and someone with a spectacular outfit with HAs and props at a high level. I even find myself purposefully voting for the low level cute outfits coz at some point it's just unfair to be put up against players 6x your level. Why are we making babies fight the bosses 😭
I know these are all petty complaints and if I had so many issues I shouldn't even be playing. This was honestly just a rant from a long time, once avid player of the game. It sucks, but I guess the corporations gotta make their $$$ too 🤷‍♀️

I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/Due_Limit4566
Originally posted to AITAH
My partner is jealous of my late husband.
Thanks to u/queenlegolas and u/Direct-Caterpillar77 for suggesting this BoRU
Trigger Warnings: death of a loved one, emotional abuse and manipulation, verbal abuse, gaslighting
Original Post: April 28, 2024
My late husband and I dated for a while back in high school, then again on and off in university and got married few years later. In short he was a wonderful man and our relationship was amazing, words can't do it justice. He died three years ago.
My current partner was a mutual friend of ours, he basically knows a lot about my past. We got in a relationship a year ago. In general he is a good person, other than the problem mentioned in the title. He is a sweet and caring, not only with me, but I speak in general.
The thing is whenever we get into an argument he would bring up my late husband. And when we're having a discussion he never miss a chance to start with comparisons, for example if we're discussing something and he raise his voice I would tell him there's no need we're just talking and that's when he would hit me with something like "yeah now you don't like the way I talk, I bet you wouldn't have said the same thing to him". Or when we're arguing about something he would finish with "I'm sure it was never like this with him".
When he moved in with me, I called him once by my husband name, I don't remember doing it but he was sure so I apologized to him. he's the first man I ever got close to after what happened and not gonna lie, I knew my late husband for years and it wasn't easy for me to accept he's gone and adjust easy so I might have, I know it was wrong but I really didn't attend to call him by his name. He never let it slide tho, he still bring that incident up sometimes.
One day we passed by a nearby restaurant and he said it seems like a good place. I said yeah it is, I've been there few times. He instantly asked me if it was with my husband. I said yes. Then he started with how of course it's a good place for me and how we can't go there now cause the only thing that would be in my mind is my husband.. I snapped at him and told him to stop this shit and never bring him up again. He apologized but never stopped.
When we were still friends I was still wearing my wedding ring but took it off when we started dating. One day and out of nowhere he asked me about the ring. I said it's in my closet. A month ago I noticed it wasn't there. I wonder if it disappeared before then and didn't notice until a month ago. I did ask him about it but he said he have no idea. The thing is it's only the two of us, we rarely have people over
(When I get in an argument or when I'm around raised voices my eyes well up with tears, not "I'm about to cry way" but it's noticeable enough), so when we argue about bringing him up and how he should stop with comparisons, he would get frustrated and say that I'm still in love with him and I would never forget about him and how I'm about to cry thinking about him! What! My eyes literally be like that even when we're arguing about something else!
Like I said he's a good man in general, he care about his family and like a father to his little brother. He's affectionate with me and sweet and all. But the way he keeps bringing up my late husband is annoying. I never give him a reason to and never bring him up.
I'm thinking about breaking up with him, but I don't know how. Cause I know he will blame it on me and his obsession with how I can't get over my late husband and used him to forget him. And at the same time I don't know if this problem is worth breaking up over. I know I might seem selfish for deciding to end things because of this. But the constant reminder isn't doing me good. What should I do!
AITAH has no consensus bot, OOP was NTA
Top Comments
Electrical_Worker_88: NTA he sounds like an emotionally abusive liar and thief. Dump him or seek counseling but don’t continue to live like this.

Update: May 7, 2024
We broke up, things got more complicated
We didn't end things in good terms. I tried my best to explain to him how his actions affect our relationship but he wouldn't understand. When I made it clear that I'm done he then admitted to taking the ring and promised to give it back and suggested we start couple therapy. The way he talked, the moment he admitted that he took the ring, everything scared me but I stood my ground and made it clear again that we're done.
When we were just friends he never acted this way I mean you wouldn't know this man capable of such things. Also he tried to blame me for it all, that I never saw things from his perspective, that it's hard to be with a woman you knows a lot about (I was married what's wrong with that?) He also said that it was hard for him to try and be better than my late husband because he saw the way he loved me and thought he would never be enough for me.
Anyway we broke up and he's taking his sweet time packing his things, he owns an apartment but still acting like he's being kicked to the street. We don't talk, he's staying in the guest room until he finish packing. And he still didn't give me the ring back. That's all. Thank you 🌻
Relevant Comments
OOP on the partner’s behavior toward her late husband and if she’s mad

OOP: I'm not mad at him, I'm mad at the way he never let me move on with my life a little, he never miss an opportunity to bring up my late husband and start comparing. He even accuses me of thinking about my ex more than him. I never really gave him a reason to I just wanted a normal relationship where my partner respect me more than keep bring up my past just because.
Actually I'm mad at him. To be honest I can't just get past the fact that he stole something from me just to punish me for whatever reason he believes
He didn't steal just for the sake of stealing, It’s my ring from my late husband.

Final update: May 10, 2024
Like most of you advised me, I had my sister and her husband come stay the night with me. My BIL helped him the next day with "packing." My ex literally had nothing left to pack but BIL helped him move his things out of the guest room. He also offered to help him move his stuff to his apartment, he refused and called his step-father instead.
He did give my ring back by throwing it at my face after I threatened to report it as stolen, yeah I know.. and called me every name you can think of along with accusing me of jumping into bed with him right after my husband died. I didn't. I never really got close to anyone for two years, and he was the one who helped me get through it all. That's why I thought getting into a relationship with him when he initiated was the right thing to do.
Anyway I didn't let him get on my nerves at first but when he said "If he could see how much you've changed, I'm sure he would ride that motorcycle again just to get away from you." (I lost my husband to an awful motorcycle accident. Both of us used to ride. I never did again after what happened) I lost it and threw my phone his way, which I'm not proud of now. It did hit his arm but my sister grabbed me from behind to stop me from doing anything stupid. My BIL kicked him out as politely as he could (BIL is a gym freak, and both my sister and I had to stop him from doing anything to avoid getting into unnecessary trouble). My sister is still with me, her husband can't stay because my place is 2 hours away from his work. Cameras are already installed along with an alarm. I'm currently working on changing the locks.
I'm also in the process of obtaining a restraining order against him.
His words are still echoing in my head and made me realize I have to consider starting therapy. I really didn't grieve properly. Thinking about it now, I see how I avoided my own emotions by denial. It was sudden. And although everything happened, I really never gave my ex a reason to do this. I really treated him with respect and honesty and it took me a while to realize I deserve the same. Thank you all for the advice and support 🙌🏻🌺
Relevant Comments
mi_nombre_es_ricardo: that guy is absolutely crazy. But yeah you really shouldn't have jumped into a relationship. Within the very first two lines of your first post I could tell how it was going to end. You're not over him, and quite frankly you are very far from being ready for a relationship.

OOP: You're right it's just the way he was supportive and there for me made me think getting in a relationship with him was the right thing but I know better now. I will work on myself 🙌🏻🌺

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

My office is the size of a large walk in closet. I have no window, harsh fluorescent lighting, and a solid door that no one can see though. It feels like I’m locked in a closet for 8 hours of the day. Any ideas how to make it more inviting?

Zack didn’t know why, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the sight of his door knob. The eerieness of his near-empty room left a pit in his stomach and in seeing the doorknob that he hadn’t seen for years, suddenly jolted hidden or repressed memories of his youth. Times he would run from his bullies in the foster home Zack once lived in, now, this old building is being condemned and due to be demolished tomorrow. Zack can’t look away from the doorknob, the rust-covered bulb reminded him of his old life as a foster kid and being more of an outcast with the other kids in this house, Fists and insults would fly freely towards Zack daily, none more willing to be Zacks number one bully, Donny. Zack feels the palms of his hands start to sweat and the air around him completely conceals Zack in a fog of forgotten moments in his life here that he long wished had never come back. Hurtful moments… terrible moments…moments in this very room that Zack was slowly reliving in his mind, yet it felt as if it was happening in front of him. Beads of cold sweat stink Zack's eyes, forcing his eyes closed and rubbing them to help with the sting, to no avail. Zack didn’t feel like himself in this room, this place is as a time capsule for Zack. He was only holding terrible anxiety that had recently just been unearthed inside Zack and bringing with it, a long-buried trauma that Zack was not ready for.
The room itself felt darker to Zack and his eyelids fluttered to adjust to the new dim surroundings, A small beam of light broke through a crevice between some wooden planks blocking out most light from outside. The shaft lands solely on the doorknob, the old rustic metal seems to not exist and shines abnormally bright from the beam of light; Zack covers his eyes from the sudden flash and when looking about finds the room back to its original state all those years ago. “No this can’t be right” Zack rubs his eyes and looks back around to only see the room still as it was back then. Zack hears sounds that haven’t been heard around here for a long time, kids playing outside in the backyard. Zack walks slowly, very curious and at the same time nervous, not fulling understanding what is happening now. Looking through the window that was just covered in old wooden planks that were nailed shut, were now clear of all obstacles, revealing the source of the noise. Showing kids he remembered back when he was a kid here. All of them playing and yet he’d also be up here, away from the other kids, away from the insults and shame that the kids always brought for Zack. Zack gets a swift memory jolt again and remembers this day, he was standing right here when he saw Donny and his group of twerp friends messing around the yard as the others just tried to have fun playing kid games. Donny had his eye on the one person who showed Zack kindness here; Clair was tending to her patch of sunflowers she had been looking after ever since she came here. The boys around Donny watched as she watered them, all by herself, Donny took this opening to make his move on her. I couldn’t hear what was said, but it didn’t look like she was interested in his offer, this made Donny mad and his friends chuckled at his sudden rejection and fueled his anger more. She then got up and waved them all goodbye as she turned back and looked up at the window I was standing at. She then smiles and waves at Zack, but Zack gets confused and waves back at the past through the window. Donny huffs and looks up to the window as well and stares hate-filled daggers at me. Even a pre-teen that was the bane of my life here can still drive a familiar chill down Zack’s spine as Zack quickly drops his hand behind him and is frozen in fear.
The room is back to the eerie silence as before and the darkness creeps around Zack again as he backs up from the window slowly. Zack steps against the wooden floorboards don’t make a single sound, the cold sweat returns, falling from his forehead onto the dusty, dry wood under his feet, Zack wipes his forehead with a trembling hand and moves his gaze toward the door, thinking he needs to leave this room immediately but in reaching for the doorknob, it refused to turn, it was as if it was merely a prop, not turn even possible to turn it at all.”Oh no…what is going on with this door” Zack began to the knob hard and struggle with it, to no success, and Zack's annoyance, he took a second to calm himself and closed his eyes, and breathed in slowly. As it began to take effect and Zack’s heart returned to a normal rhythm, bangs from the door and the knob violently turned left and right. Zack jumped at the sudden crashing on the door, the banging and twisting of the doorknob Zack didn’t know what to do, just then A smaller hand reached out and held his trembling hand as the calming voice of a bygone friend to Zack heard; “It’s ok Zack” the phantom voice whispered in his ear, the violent crashing and splintering of the door in front of him sounded so muffed from the smooth, tunes of the voice, that it almost seemed nonexistent at the moment.” Donny likes to play rough Zack but I won’t let him pick on you anymore, ok”. Zack felt a warm sensation on his left cheek and even though he felt a hand in his, he was all alone in the room, the door was at the moment of burst but stopped as the room grew dark and still. The feeling of a friendly presence was gone and Zack felt the horror that he had always known his whole life.
The feeling of being utterly alone, and with the sense covering him like a thick weighted blanket, his eyes look again to the door knob. The single light beam falls back into sight of Zack, bringing him back to the present, the darkness engulfing Zack, matching the despair that covers him. Zack takes a moment to regain himself and steady his rapid heart rate before he is fit. The silence of the room was helpful for Zack to focus on slowing the pounding against his rib cage, The sudden rush of his rash past was something he was not thinking would be an issue, yet here he was, nearly having a panic attack in his old foster room. Zack’s eyes are closed, breathing in slowly through the nose and out the mouth. The Silence is then shattered by the sound of the rustic doorknob violently twisting left and right as if someone on the other side was trying their hardest to get the door open. Zack jumps at the sudden old doorknob twist in such a manner, and knowing that he is the only one left in this building, gives Zack pause to go towards the door in the first place. The doorknob popped and grind against itself on the turns Zack felt the person might just rip the worn knob off the door entirely. Zack’s mind wanted to reach out for the vibrating doorknob, yet he found his feet moving on their own, moving back slowly from the door.
A golf ball-sized lump of fear sat in the back of Zack’s throat; His fear of coming not just from the crazy moving doorknob, but now the voices Zack remembers hearing at a younger age. When running from Donny and locking the doorknob, holding back my tears, and shaking behind a closet door. Donny would beat on the door and nearly a few times rip the doorknob off the door of the room itself. One night Zack was talking with Clair and felt a tear come down his cheek, She knew Donny was the one behind all my troubles and had had her misdealings with his consent pursuits since we got around our teens, but she remained ever so kind to Zack.
Zack swallows that lump down his throat and whence at the door to the closest repeatedly banging and the doorknob loosening from the screws at this point, Zack decides to reach for the door and open it. Maybe it was blind fear, or maybe Zack decided to overcome whatever this place’s hold had of him and may still have. Zack's hands trembled as he reached a tentative hand towards the closest door and with each step a glimpse of a forgotten tragedy began to form inside Zack’s mind, images that flashed like a long picture book of some well-drawn sketch. Right footsteps first, as the moment of Clair and Zack hugging one another as young adults now, Zack had a bruise under his right eye and Clair was putting ice and tending to him. Something else was happening there. A second step; Clair and Zack's hands touched and a spark was ignited that was set the moment they first met. Zack returns with a light cruise of Clair's cheek and then they both share a lover's kiss, until now as Zack has this remembrance does he now know that Donny was watching this from outside through the window above that we proudly sat at and the kiss was on display. Only Donny was the only one there to see and he was not happy at all. Rage filled his eyes not because Clair wasn’t with him, but because she chose Zack over him. The third step and another, were the times after Zack felt happiest in the arms of Clair and she was happy in his. Just then a violent slam from Donny to the door to the room swung open with such force the shock of the noise scared Clair and Zack, Donny stood in that doorway with fire in his eyes and still…very still.
Zack feels the tips of his fingers reach the jerking doorknob and can’t understand the feeling that has overcome him here, but he is compelled to see this to the end. A final step and Zack places a hand on the knob and grips it, expecting the shake in his hand. No such thing, the door stopped pounding and the knob ceased its upheaval at Zack’s touch. Zack takes a huge breath and turns the doorknob. Nothing…No sound. No light. Empty and damp, say for a metal hook on the center back wall, stained with old, dry blood. Zack looks at it as if he can see it through the pitch black of the closet, then a hand grasps hold of Zack’s, and Zack gets a feeling of a female next to him but can’t see, any words or sounds of any kind yet Zack can’t help but see the hook and think back, back to that last moment with Clair, the kiss and the rage of Donny’s pain reaching us here. Donny in a fit of blind anger grabbed Clair by the hair and kicked Zack in the chest so that it nearly crushed his ribs in one blow. Screams from Clair for Donny to slop, but Donny does not do any such thing. He pulled her with him as he shoved Zack with his kick again, hard enough to land Zack into the broom closet of the room. Zack got up and almost hit his head on the jagged metal hook. Clair scratches Donny good in the face and Donny, In the attack Donny throws Clair from his grip, and Clair trips over lifted out of the rug, and crashes through the glass window facing outside. Zack and Donny are in a moment of frozen shock as the lifeless body of Clair lies mangled from the fall and the glass cutting her Donny then turns to Zack and tries to close the closet door on Zack and it is a struggle for both but eventually, Donny took a step back and then with a hard kick to the door, send Zack backward.
Zack is back in the dark closet and the room makes Zack feel alone and scared, like so many times before. A single tear forms and before it falls, a soft hand, gently wipes it away.
.

I'm trying to find an area contractor named Stevie Hicks. Her, her son, and her son's friends recently did a flooring job for my grandmother at the referral of a plumber who also ripped my grandmother off ($800 to tighten a pipe and tear up her bathroom and not put anything back). Stevie and her crew charged my grandmother around $8k to refloor and wallpaper the bathroom that was water damaged, sand and stain the existing hardwood, and vinyl plank over the entryway. None of these spaces were significantly large as it's an original Oak Ridge home and they were done very poorly for the amount that my grandmother paid.
But here's the twist, upon finally getting back in to her home after they required her to stay out of the house for 10 days, she found a LOT of things missing. My late grandfather's safe was dismounted from its spot in the closet, his tool cupboard was half emptied with 2 bags of tools, 2 electric drills, and a circular saw missing, pretty much every charging cable in the house is missing, they took a 5 gallon jug that was halfway full of change and another smaller piggy bank. They also used her cleaners and paper towels to clean up after themselves instead of bringing their own and broke into two outdoor sheds, breaking the door on one and breaking the lock off the other.
We've already filed a police report but it's unlikely anything will actually be done and this Stevie Hicks claimed to be licensed and insured but never provided proof. Just wanting to let everyone in the area know to avoid them and hopefully see if anyone else has had experience with her or knows who she really is. All I know is that she met my mom in Straw Plains to give the house key back and that she's old enough to have grandchildren that go to school in Campbell County.

Hello friends!
As the title states, for those of us arriving to the farm on Tuesday we have exactly 25 days to bring it all together. What better way to celebrate 25 days away from being back home than with 25 tips for a great Roo. 2 years ago I did a daily series with 100 tips. Last year I did a daily series with 50 tips. This year it's cut and dry, one take, one day, top 25 tips from a Roo and festival vet. Let's do it.

Water- Drink it. A lot of it. All of it. Let it run down your chin you little water slut. Staying hydrated is the #1 way to have a great Roo and consequently the easiest way to end up in the med tent if you don't. There's water stations in the campgrounds and in Centeroo, use em. It's hot. Bring a hydropack, water bottle, or whatever kind of water container you prefer.
Beat the Heat- Or at least try. Bring a canopy for camp and some tapestries to hang around. Battery powered fans. Misting fans. Cooling towels. Clacking hand fans. An umbrella. An umbrella hat. Hang out under the trees, tents, signs, or any other thing that will provide some relief from the heat. Bring and USE sunscreen. It truly can't be expressed enough how hot Roo can be and trust me when I say getting a sunburn on Thursday or Friday can make Saturday and Sunday rough.

*PRO TIP- Bring a bucket or collapsible bin of some kind to put some cold cooler water in it for a foot bath. Your feet and your entire being will thank you.

Meet Your Neighbors- One of the things that makes Bonnaroo great is the sense of community that comes along with it. Whether it's passing each other on the way in and out of camp, the lazy morning hangs, catching some shows, the pregame beers, keeping an eye out for each other's camp, or sharing that one thing you forgot to bring; Befriending your neighbors can and will take your Roo experience to the next level.
Lights- All of the lights. Like Kanye said; flashlights, battery powered string lights, solar lights, lanterns, LEDs, nightlights, or something like that. We're camping in the middle of bumfuck nowhere middle Tennessee. Yes, they do provide some lighting in the campground but it's still dark. Keep a small flashlight in your bag, you'll need it.
Comfy Shoes- Comfy BROKEN IN shoes. Whatever is your comfiest footwear, use that. Imo at least, Bonnaroo is much less of a fashion show and is much more about being comfortable in the elements while adding in the 30-40-50 miles of walking, dancing, skipping, and frolicking you will do. Getting some insoles will also help your feet make it through.
Begin Physically Preparing Thyself- If you haven't already. Nobody needs to be in peak physical condition by any means, but doing some cardio, walking, a bike ride, etc. and getting out in the heat beforehand will go a long way when it comes to the marathon gauntlet that is Bonnaroo. Get a little uncomfortable before we get really uncomfortable in a few weeks.
First Aid kit, Butt wipes, Chafe cream, Baby Powder- A few of the most important personal things that will do wonders for that swamp ass and Roo Rash. Skip TP all together and just bring butt wipes, your butt and chafed thighs will thank you. They will also thank you when you apply that chafe cream and your legs are slip slidin' and glidin' all night long.
Make Campsite Noticeable- Lights, balloons, pinwheels, signs, wackly inflatable tube men, a blimp. Do something to make your campsite stand out a little bit when things get a bit weird and can't find your way back home.
Catch a Sunrise- Specifically a Pretty Lights one Saturday night into Sunday morning, but any sunrise is meaningful on the farm. One of the things that make Bonnaroo unique from other festivals is the fact that music of some kind is going until sunrise. This is no easy task, even for professionals, but the payoff at the end is worth every second of tiredness to get you there.

10.High Five Everyone- This one's big. High Fives have been a staple at Bonnaroo since 1842 when Colonel Mustard high fived Trey Anastacio's great great Uncle and the rest was history. High five everyone. Everyday. Anywhere. Anytime. There may or may not be a winding high five line in front of the arch this year, but that's no excuse to not throw a hand up and watch the magic happen. Not getting enough fives? It means you aren't giving enough. Dish em out like pizzas and hot cakes.

Prepare for All Types of Weather- Hot, cold, windy, rainy, snowy. Plan for it all regardless of what the forecast says. Tennessee is like Florida where the forecast has changed 14 times since I started writing this. Bring your swim trunks but also a hoodie and beanie. Bring a poncho if you're going to melt. Don't forget to stake down the tents and canopies. Prepare for it all.
Check out the Plazas- Plazas, which used to be "pods", are themed areas throughout the campgrounds that offer entertainment and programming of all different kinds. Each plaza contains bathrooms, wifi, staff, charging stations, and information that can be beneficial.
Bring Something To Sleep On- Air mattress, cot, inflatable couch, in the car; whatever it is make sure it's something somewhat comfortable to catch some precious Z's on. We only get a few hours of sleep while on the farm, make sure it's the most comfortable you can possibly get for maximum efficiency.
Patience is a Virtue- Whether it's in the car line, beer line, bathroom line, or any place that requires waiting; just be patient. People are working their hardest to get you through whatever line it is, just enjoy the ride. Getting upset, frustrated, etc. doesn't do anybody any good when we're all trying to get to the same place. Just have some patience and trust me it will go a long way.
Bring Things to Trade & Give Away- This concept is not unique to Bonnaroo but some festivals in general; bring things to give away. Think small, inexpensive, yet meaningful in the right situations. Squishy animals, pogs, green army men, pokemon cards, hat clips, clothespins, marbles; the possibilities here are pretty endless. Having things to give away will just up your Roo experience that much more.
Keep Valuables locked in the Car- Even though Bonnaroo is by in large a safe place, any public event that draws 60K+ people also brings the bad apples. Anything over 20$ we lock in the car and out of sight and hide our keys at camp. Also please do not bring ANYTHING of substantial value in which you will be upset if it goes missing, broken, or lost. Don't bring grandmother's precious jewels with you. If it has value, lock it in your car.
Bring Cash- Yes Bonnaroo like most events is moving toward a cashless event, however having cash on you will alleviate some of the issues that go along with so called cashless. There will be things wandering through camp which only require cash, some vendors take cash, and having that peace of mind will frankly go a long way when a card simply won't do.
Pace Yourself- Bonnaroo is a marathon, not a sprint. Although I whole heartedly endorse full send Thursday, pacing yourself throughout the weekend will leave you some energy left for Fred Again Sunday night. Stay hydrated, take naps, and don't feel bad when you have to take a load off to catch your breath.
Live In the Moment- Be. Here. Now. Take it all in. Stay off your phone. Embrace the journey. Embrace the moment. Live it. Be it. Accept it. Enjoy it. Don't over plan and don't force it. Let it be. Bonnaroo only comes around once a year and it's in our best interest to make every second count. Keep your head up, eyes open, and enjoy every moment the farm gives us.
Foster the Bonnarovian Code.

a. Prepare Thyself
b. Play as a Team
c. Radiate Positivity
d. Respect the Farm
e. Don't be that Person
f. Stay True Roo
Embrace these basic yet powerful principles and you are on the right track to having a wonderful Bonnaroo experience. Not only do these principles apply to the farm, but they also translate well to our everyday lives.

Cooler Maintenance- Tried and true ways to keep your coolers cold as long as possible without spending a fortune on ice. FROZEN WATER BOTTLES. Probably the most beneficial festival hack there is. Layer the bottom of your coolers with frozen bottles and shove ice packs in there as well. Dry ice when used correctly will keep coolers cold for days. Keep coolers out of the sun and closed as much as possible during the day. Before packing coolers, bring them inside and throw some ice in them to cool them down. May the cold be with you, always.
Wear Whatever the Fuck you Want- Sorry for cussing. But seriously. Wear whatever feels right. Wear a costume. Wear something wild. Wear something basic af. Wear a wig. Wear that dumbass thing in the back of your closet that hasn't seen the light of day since 2004, let it out. Whatever you wear just make sure it's comfortable. And if you wear something that isn't comfortable, just know we appreciate you and the sacrifices you're making for the greater good.
Get Merch Early- The good stuff goes quick. The popular sizes go quick. Don't sleep on it. If there's something you see you want just get it and be done with it so there are no regrets later, not even one letter.
Camp Chairs, inflatable couches, Stools, Pussy Couches, Blankets- Basically just bring things to sit or relax on. Camp chairs, couches, inflatable unicorns, and stools for camp and a blanket for inside Centeroo. Blow up couches aren't technically allowed in the venue but neither are substances and glowsticks and there are certainly neither of those at Bonnaroo.
Battery stations, Power Banks, Solar Chargers- Bring whatever you need to keep your electronics charged without having to use the courtesy outlets. Charging things in the car is a move as well as a DC inverter which plugs into your car cigarette lighter. We only get a short amount of time on the farm, don't spend it teathered to an outlet. Bring the power.

Honorable Mention Tips

Check Camping supplies ahead of time.
Don't forget your ID, wristband, and parking pass. (This one is pretty important and should probably be higher up)

That's all I got for the time being. Anything I missed please feel free to add below. For all the first timers joining us this year I would just like to say welcome to the farm. Embrace and enjoy every second you are there. To all the vets coming back, can't wait to see you fuckers again real soon. We're almost there. Happy Bonnaroo Yall!

I live in California. Long story short someone kept stealing any mail that has anything to do with my taxes (I live in an apartment and the boxes are locked. I had to get info over the phone from one place (they literally had to tell me what every box said so I could file my taxes), a previous company was bought out by someone else and the forms never showed up so they had to create me an employee account so I could download them and on and on. I asked for my refund to be direct deposited. It was not. I was supposed to get a piece of mail today that was from State Controller Disbursement Bureau and I can only assume that was supposed to be my tax refund. Problem is whatever klepto that works for USPS and is stealing my tax docs also stole that. It didn't show up. Informed delivery showed two pices. The junk mail showed up but not this. I filed a complaint with USPS, checked the box on informed delivery that says “this didn’t show up” but what can I do if the check was stolen? I'm about to have a nervous breakdown because I can't handle this. I get tax docs for tons of other people that don't live here. I don't know them. I've never heard of them, I don't know where they live now, l even got court docs for someone and stuck it all back in the outgoing mail slot but I can't even get my own tax stuff.

HI all, I read the FAQs and all. I just want to say a few words.
Years ago, I bought a Google Home Nest Mini speaker thingie for $50. You could talk to it, it played music, etc. Same thing I rigged together when I was a teenager in the 90s using Microsoft voice and X10 products. Don't know why everyone is wetting there panties over this, but whatever.
It worked. And it worked well. I bought another, recommended to friends, over time, I bought 8 or 10 more since, had them all over the house, out on the veranda, stereo joined, grouped them with JBL video desk thingie in the kitchen, my Bose, awesome, carry along speaker, recommended to friends, etc.
It had glitches, but I've been working in high tech, biotech, etc., for 30 years. I now work in academia, Senior Systems Engineer at a fairly notable uni. Doesn't matter which, but it's colors are crimson if you're curious.
Back to the point, over time, they steadily got worse, wouldn't pair with each other, Google dropped support for my Bose AND the JBL, so they won't group anymore, etc. Bought a Google Hub thingie which WOULD NOT talk to the minis, they kept playing different songs, etc. Called support, went through an hour of mind numbingly first level support of resetting derive, etc., etc. Finally, took a video of me going through the steps, and duplicating the problems.
OK. "Your configuration is not supported sir. Thank you for calling." It's a Google Hub and a Google Nest, it says ON THE BOX this is one of it's "features"?!?!??!
I just got home from an ridiculously long day at work, asked Google to play music, and it says, "YOUR YOUTUBE ACCOUNT IS LOGGED IN FROM TOO MANY DEVICES"
All else aside, it is a speaker. Play music. come home, I open the refrigerator, and the door OPENS, light turns on, that's it. It does not lock and start a bloody argument with me that it thinks I have another refrigerator door open right now.
I called support. They say they if I check my EULA, I am not eligible for a refund. Some supervisor is supposed to call me back. On Google Pixel, with service provided by Google Fi, so who knows if I'll hear from them.
I AM DONE. I am the most chill guy you would ever meet, but this has made my mood... unpleasant.
Are there class action suits I can join? Do I need to get a pitchfork and torch, join the angry mob in Mountain View HQ?
EDIT: I think it was Kurzweil Voice, not Microsoft Voice. Totally irrelevant, just credit where its due.
EDIT: While I'm on rant, the 3 minis I gave my g/f for her apartment? We eventually through in a box in the closet because of the horror show it was getting to reliably and consistently work with her Google tablet thingie she has on the kitchen counter.

I started on vyvanse 2 weeks ago and so far it’s been a nice improvement. (Yes, I am well aware of my privilege in being able to actually have this medicine). The first week, I was able to clean my room, clean my closet, donate a bunch of stuff, clean and put away all of my clothes, start and finish refurbishing a chest of drawers, get some school work done, send emails, make appointments, have less intense anxiety and depression, and start having a consistent sleep schedule that isn’t going to sleep at 5am and waking up at 3pm. The second week has been a bit slower, I still feel the effects, but I’m realizing that if I don’t WANT to do something, it won’t get done.
I took a couple days off from doing school work, and that has turned into a little over a week now. I don’t like that I’ve kinda fallen back into that old habit but here I am. I also haven’t been feeling like myself the last few days, but I’ve been contributing that to the tough therapy session I had and all of the joint pain I’ve had as well. Today especially, I have been nonverbal for a good part of it. Yeah I force myself to talk and do some of the things I need to, but I’m overwhelmed and there was a while where I just shut down and had to have the good ol Floor Time™️.
I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 8, I’m 23(F) now. I recently saw a therapist about the possibility of me having autism, and while she couldn’t officially diagnose me (because she didn’t have the exact qualifications or the exact test) we did discuss what my life has been like, her experience with people that have autism (her daughter and several of her patients have autism), took a couple of tests, and checked with the DSM5 and we concluded that it was “safe to say” that I have autism. She did ask if I wanted a referral to see someone who can actually diagnose me and I said no for the time being, but if I feel the need to explore this further, I will ask for a referral.
Now, I add that last bit because what feels like is happening in my brain is that I have a control panel room (think like the movie Inside Out) and instead of emotions taking control, it’s mental illnesses. So Vyvanse comes in one day, takes charge, locks ADHD and empathy out of the room and suddenly my brain doesn’t feel like that SpongeBob scene where there’s a million SpongeBob’s running around and the place is on fire. But since empathy has been locked out, my filter is much smaller, I think much more factually than emotionally and I don’t put other people’s thoughts and emotions before mine, but that also means that I start saying things without much regard to their feelings. I still think about the accuracy of the statement and what I am saying, but I’m concerned about the day that it gets me in trouble. I’ve already had to blame some irritation on the medicine, which is highly common, but is it all the medicine? Or is it actually just me? It feels like Vyvanse took over my “control panel” and is letting autism copilot. I’m thinking I need to get a formal diagnosis.

We have hooked up before and he is all over me, but he kept telling me to keep it down because his flatmate dont know he is gay — The second time, On that chat when he asked me if I used poppers, i asked him if he had an STD, to which he responded that he was clean. He then said I didn’t have to come over but I said I wanted to.

I asked if he could use his toilet. He locked his room until I came out.. I was worried what would happen if his flatmates saw me and he refused to open up - He made comments about my ass being flat and being a beginner in the gym - despite going to four years. Bascailly, saying that he didn’t think I muscular enough. When I told him i wanted a six pack, he laughed saying good luck. I got the impression that he was a bit of a joker and that its a cultural thing as he is from Malaysia — and would explain why he is in the closet as this a strongly Muslim country. Also he was all over me and wanted to sit and cuddle and kiss me, which I found a bit strange.
He said his friend had HIV when I spoke about STDs; I had a little worry that he was referring to himself. We only did oral..

Census bureau midget locked in closet

Paranormal Stories: House of Mirrors pt. 2

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP