Bear with me as I describe what amounts to an almost religious experience after finishing the game for the first time. SPOILERS and nigh-rambling. But I just have to share. I hope you'll stay a while a listen. :)
I tried playing Cyberpunk a couple months ago. Corpo Male, strong roleplaying. When the Johnny Silverhand stuff started, I got really frustrated and quit. I didn't like how the game saw fit to ramrod me into this extremely narrow story when I thought the experience was going to be more open than that. I wanted to play a character who tried to rise to the top of Night City's corporate world through double-dealing and backstabbery...and now all the sudden my character is dying and has this voice in his head.
I was not going to be able to tell the story I wanted to tell.
It was that ludonarrative dissonance thing, like in the Witcher 3, I always struggled to justify doing too many side missions, given that Geralt (as I was playing him) was very concerned about finding Ciri, so there just didn't seem to be time to get embroiled in all these other adventures.
But then I saw this randomly come across my YouTube feed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0gR_C0Pd1k&ab_channel=JekavacTV
Dude. I don't care how linear your story is...that's incredible. And dark.
I've been on hard times lately. While I was never serious about unaliving myself, it was a thought that bounced around in my head here and there at my lowest moments...and this clip just...it hit me. I always believed that self-deletion was deeply wrong, if only because of the harm it did to others who loved you. Whatever was on the table, that solution could never be entertained seriously. I just couldn't do it to my loved ones.
But I've also been struggling with who I am, who I'm supposed to be, what my purpose is. LOL big club I know.
But that video convinced me to give 2077 another try. If an ending could be that hardcore and meaningful...there must be something worthwhile in this game. So I rolled a Nomad Male, and began my love affair with this game. I didn't try to concoct a character so much as just try to play V as myself. I really related to his leaving the Bakkers, and going it alone. Also I moved around a lot as a kid, and my Dad was a hippie biker in his heyday, and a mechanic. So it felt true to form.
And then when you meet Jackie...I mean c'mon, who's more loveable than Jackie?
I really started to get into the game then. And it finally started to dawn on me what the game's story is trying to communicate.
I figured 2077 would devolve into a lot of cynicism, and exploit the violence and sex for cheap thrills. Or maybe it would lean on shock value and become doomeblackpill fodder. But CDPR ain't no slouches. Night City is an exaggerated snapshot of where we are now. And V's predicament is one many of us are facing: we want to make our mark on the world, but is it worth it to step on everyone along the way? Even if we're trying not to die? Or worse, just be erased. Many of us struggle with a voice in our head telling us we're fuckups. We're pussies. We're slaves. We're not worth the trouble.
At first I took Silverhand for an antagonist, essentially. A nasty SOB I had to keep at bay, given that my V was a mostly good guy who just wanted a family again. Especially after Jackie died...man his wake, and helping Misty sort through his things? That got to me.
And of course there's that lingering fear that, no matter how much Silverhand may begin to charm you or appear like he's on your side - he's going to take over. V is actually warned that eventually, Silverhand will just make a play to do just that.
So I was careful with him, but I wanted to know more, because he was such an intriguing character, and its easily one of Reeves' best performances. Period. So I invested in his conversations and eventually his sidequests. I also did what I could to help others in Night City who helped me. I was dying, so...it felt like a good time to be generous. Even if sometimes I had to off a bunch of gangoons with a shotgun. XD
Then as the story developed, I began to see that Silverhand wasn't quite the legend everyone thought. He was a man who had sorely, sorely screwed his life up - as well as the lives of many others. He even seemed to regret it.
I even told Silverhand I'd take a bullet for him, after receiving his dog tags. I never expected that kind of a scene between those two.
It became clear that Silverhand was a ghost, stuck between life and death, looking for absolution, trying to do something right for once. And V could help. So I did. We found Alt Cunningham. We took Rogue on a date. We got Samurai together for one last gig. We tried to track Adam Smasher down. I was putting trust in Johnny, and it was clear that he wasn't really wanting to kill V after all. But he had no choice.
I also met Panam, fell in love, and became a de-facto Aldecaldo. Was never sure about Saul, but Mitch and the others were just salt of the earth man. Great little storyline.
I helped Judy, all the way until she finally left Night City, and was glad of it. I do wish she was romanceable by dudes, but...she was still just too precious, I couldn't turn a blind eye to her problems, or her kindness. Her little story with the underwater town was so moving and unique...I just wanted to give that girl a hug man. What a sweetheart.
Then it all came to a head. V is on his last leg. That fateful scene where you make your big choice. Silverhand pushing me to just take the orange pill and let him do his thing, since he's almost in control anyway. Or I could testify against Yorinobu, and put my trust in Arasaka. OR, I could call on my new family in Panam and the Aldecaldos, but put them at risk.
This entire game I felt like every choice was vital. I felt like one slip up and I could mess up my chances of living, or even worse, do wrong by the people I cared about, just like Jackie. But I stuck to my guns, helped who I could...
Which is why I chose to lean on the Aldecaldos for help. Yes, I was putting them at risk. But even though I was beginning to trust Johnny, this wasn't his fight anymore. Much as Johnny might have a shot, I couldn't just give up now. And I certainly wasn't going to trust anyone at Arasaka.
The raid on Arasaka HQ with the clan was rough. Felt like all my choices had led here, and I worried that CDPR was going to punish me for my past choices, given that Night City takes no prisoners and few get out alive. I also knew that Adam Smasher was bound to appear. And having seen Edgerunners...I knew that wasn't going to be pretty. I saw how Johnny's story ended, for example.
There were rumblings about Saul and Panam still being at odds, and I figured the game was priming me for a betrayal or a horrific upset somehow. But I forged ahead anyway, because I was with my family. I didn't want power. I didn't even want to be a legend. I just wanted to live.
I watched Adam Smasher kill Saul horrifically, heard Panam scream in horror...and I zeroed that MFer. XD
Protip: even on Hard Diff, if you have the right perks and implants, you can be virtually unkillable. Only died once. Not sure if that's impressive, but it felt impressive. XD
My V wasn't sophisticated, but he was tough as nails and determined. I wasn't about to let everyone's sacrifice be in vain. Not Saul's. Not Jackie's. Not Goro's. Not Johnny's.
I informed Smasher of Johnny's resurrection just before blowing his brains out with Johnny's own signature gun. Even though Johnny was subdued by the bluepill, it felt like my last gift to him...even as I was moments from death.
Then the moment of truth...Mikoshi. I asked Panam for parting advice. She said "Just be yourself." Normally I'd roll my eyes at that advice but, something about it felt prophetic.
The final choice. Alt had used Soulkiller on me, in order to save me, but now it seemed I wasn't going to get my happy ending. I could go with her beyond the Blackwall, and finally let Johnny have my body - or I could return, but only have about six months, since the Relic had just caused too much damage.
It wasn't that hard of a choice. Leave everything and everyone I had grown to love behind for some bizarre virtual afterlife? Or let Johnny finally rest, and let V return to the world, Panam and the Aldecaldos? I chose life. As Johnny laid me down in the 'well', gently, he said "Goodbye V." And it felt like two friends parting ways. It felt like he'd made a change, and I helped him get there.
And boy was I rewarded. Even though I didn't have long, I had a chance to start again, and maybe even find another way to live. I had Panam, I had the Caldos, and I could finally leave Night City in the dust. "I have everything I need", V said.
This game absolutely SLAPS with hard choices. Over and over and over, you're reminded about how unfair the world is. But if you keep your head on, and ignore the power plays, stay true to your friends, and don't take no shit - you can get out alive. And not just you. The ones you love can too.
Of course, many of you already know all of this. So why did I bother posting?
All my life I've felt like maybe I've been too nice, or too careful, or too unwilling to take life by the balls. But one thing I've always been good at is helping people in need when I can, and always being available to my friends. But for some reason I always looked down on myself for it. I never felt like I was worth anything. I never felt like I was making a difference in the world. There were so many hard choices, and I felt like I never made the right ones. And that I'd just die one day, and be forgotten. Never having made my mark. Just like so many in Night City...
Some days I'd think "Maybe it'd just be better if I was never born." Because I was such a fuckup. A loser. A nobody.
But the person who helps people, who's there for others even when its inconvenient? That's the kind of person who can make a REAL difference. Fuck money. Fuck politics. Fuck fame. None of its worth a damn if you aren't doing right by others.
And that really came through in the end credits. I'm not ashamed to say I was in tears as all these people from my playthrough reminded me how much I meant to them. How much they cared, and that I mattered. All these people had happy endings because of me. I never let them down, not even when the grim reaper himself was breathing down my neck.
It was like all my IRL friends and family were speaking to me in those moments. And finally, FINALLY, I could see myself as they saw me: a man who cared and was trying to be there for them. A man that made a difference in their lives.
Yeah I didn't save the world, per se. But, really, that's how we save the world for real, lame as it may sound. The sheer contrast between the ending I had earned by just trying to do right by all the people in V's life, and that horrific ending I posted earlier was...stark. If you give up, then everyone suffers, not just you.
This game saw me, and reminded me who I was. It rewarded me for it, and I'll never forget it. For all its flaws, all its quirks and failings, I adored this game and all the effort that went into it. It's clear CDPR were trying to say something with this work of art, and boy was the message received on my end.
I can safely say I'm less likely to despair now because of it. I feel more alive because of it. I feel more prepared for the real world because of it. And I wanted to share my experience, if only to remind one person that:
We can all make a difference. Live for others, not yourself. It pays off. Even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. It's the only legacy worth leaving in this fallen world.

(The typos were bothering me so goddamn much i just needed to fix it even though its so far after i originally posted)
Raindrops begin to tap against the stone brick pavement, greeting Scornajis and the drow with a melancholic atmosphere. The crowds sifting through the streets begin to thin out as the minutes pass.
Scorn looks up at the building before him, easily the highest-class building in this town. A slow trickle of well-dressed individuals filters their way in and out.
This was the place.
The date of Wuhmi's sale was almost a week ago. Scorn's shoulders droop from his lack of hope. Despite rushing across the border here, the creeping feeling that he's too late has already sunk its claws into him.
He's taken out of his thoughts by a snap of the drow's mechanical fingers. "Scorn! C'mon, head in the game. Ready for the plan?"
He takes a deep breath and nods, rolling his shoulders back up into his confident stance as he focuses. "Hmm... there didn't seem to be any other entrances, so I guess the front door is the way to go. Sure your illusions will work?"
A hint of doubt hangs on his voice before the drow reassures him confidently. "It will, it will, and you won't even have to actually dress up in a suit." He lets out a slight chuckle. "Aye, that's good. Never can seem to get any in my size anyway."
The pair stand in an alley, and the drow points at Scorn. A far more glamorous robe than anything he usually wears now decorates his body, slightly shimmering. She does the same to herself, a dress appearing on her form. "Alright, ready, Scorn?" He nods in response, and the duo make their way to the building.
Entering the building, they are greeted by warmth and brightness, the contrast with the dark streets and rain leaving Scorn squinting as his eyes adjust.
It's a massive room with a stage surrounded by seats in the back of it, and several trinkets resting upon pedestals, up for silent auctions as people write down bids for them.
"Welcome sir, my lady, we do hope you find what you're looking for today." Says an employee as they stride past, both of them ignoring him. "Drow, over there, left of the stage." Scorn flicks his eyes to it, discreetly gesturing in its direction.
A man with a gold-encrusted cane is talking to an employee before a door is opened for them, another door immediately after, so the first can be shut behind them, hiding what's inside.
"But how do we get in..." The drow gives Scorn a pat on the back. "I've got it. Just go look around at things, act natural." And with that, she steps into a crowd and dissapears entirely
Tension tugs visibly on Scorn's stance as he is forced to stand idly. His body twitches as rage seeps into his every thought, the occasional flicker of flame rising off his body.
They took his apprentice, changed her entire *species*, and sold her like an animal. He leans slightly forward against a table displaying some objects, the weight of his thoughts pushing him down, before it's relieved by a tap on the back, the drow returning.
"Just hung out invisible near the door, I've got the passcode. Come on." Scorn nods, being led to the door by her. The employee stops the pair, drow clears her throat and "I'd like to buy freedom itself." "How much would you pay?" *The doorman asks.
"Everything."
With that, they allow Scorn and the drow through. The hall leads down a flight of stairs into a far larger auction house... and the things for sale are far worse. Cages decorate the stage, shackled waitresses carefully carrying plates of drinks.
Scorn's eye twitches, forcing himself to remain calm, taking in his surroundings. As he collects his thoughts, a man walks onto the stage and starts the auction, seeming to be the man running the business. "Might have some questions for him later.." Drow remarks.
"Alright, looks like that's it." Drow nods towards a door to the side, the occasional employee stepping through it. "Doesn't seem to be guarded." *He strokes his beard in thought before the drow raises her hand "Alright, I can make us both invisible for a bit, hopefully we'll be able to find the records before it ends. Ready?"
The pair slip invisibly inside. Doors lining the walls as they search through the hallway. Peeking in each door, one of which being a large tunnel they assume is for smuggling, yet most of it is storage rooms. a great deal of the storage being people held in cages.
Scorn is stopped from action by a hand on his shoulder, looking back at the drow as she shakes her head "^{We can make a plan to bust them out after, and besides Scorn.. you're not bulletproof. Maybe get the council in on it, just focus on finding Wuhmi for now.}" He solemnly nods, looking forward to coming back here and causing a scene.
They hug the walls as a few guards pass them by without a clue of their presence. They wait for them to leave out of earshot, before entering the last door, clearly being an office of some sort.
Paintings and lavish furnishings fill the room, the desk alone likely costing more than Scorn has ever carried. Without wasting a second, they begin their search, flipping through papers, and searching through drawers
"Ahah! Bills of sale once again!" Scorn proudly proclaims, flipping through them, his expression slowly sinking "this can't be right.. there's got to be more..." A frustrated sigh slips out from the wizard. All the sales are coded, disguised as normal objects.
"Painting by ___ 1 platinum, leviathan leather purse 370 gold, great wyrm egg 10 platinum sold to estate of Dupree.." Scorn places his face in his hands, briefly processing before standing up. "lets see if our auctioneer would be so kind as to just tell us."
Scorn and the drow stand in the group of buyers, staring at the stage, trying to think of an opening.. till one is presented. The auctioneer bringing on his next good. "Alright folks we've got a REAL treat on our hands here, a Girallon!"
He pulls a tarp off a tall cage after its wheeled up to him, the metal shaking as the beast inside roars. A large, 4 armed ape grabbing at the metal bars, its body wounded and thin, clearly having been kept weak for safety. The auctioneer rambles on about the beast, and starts the bidding.
Scorn's eyes widen slightly as an idea crosses his mind. "Drow, I need you to turn invisible, and grab the auctioneer, I'm gonna cause a distraction."
She quickly nods, slinking off and turning invisible, climbing up the wall with her enchanted armor, hanging off the ceiling right above the auctioneer, while Scorn gets closer to the stage.
Scornajis points forward, concentrating deeply as he points at the lock, an invisible stream of incredibly cold air coming forth from his finger tip, freezing the lock from a distance.. till it snaps.
"2 platinum! Do i hear 3? 3 plati...num.." The auctioneer looks to the side at the beast he was selling as the Girallon grabs the door to its cage, and pushes it open, the lock clattering to the floor as the beast steps out, the room falling silent.
"..g-..GUARDS!" The auctioneer yells before he gets promptly backhanded by the ape, sending him flying across the stage. The girallon roars, leaping forth into the crowd and throwing around the buyers like toys.
In the midst of the chaos, drow drops from the ceiling. Silently landing next to the wounded auctioneer, lifting him up as he vanishes in her illusion.
Scorn smiles at the scene, quite proud of the outcome of his plan, before holding open the door to the hallway, silent footsteps passing him as the drow walks through, followed shortly by Scorn himself. They take the previously identified smuggling route, the long tunnel empty of noise besides Scorn's heavy footsteps.
it takes several minutes until they find the exit, after which they're greeted by cloudy skies and rolling hills as they exit the tunnel. Scorn takes a deep breathe allowing fresh air to fill his lungs.
He looks to the side at the drow, the unconscious auctioneer hanging from her grasp. He pulls his shrunken scrying orb from his robe, enlarging it and contacting Lex.
*Scorn and the drow take a seat in a nearby grove of trees, and collectively let out a sigh.
"..im going to have to teach Wuhmi to fight better."

Hello reddit, first post on this sub and it is a juicy one!
I just played a session, literally finished like two hours ago, and I am still clutching my head because of this, it is INSANE.
For starters, let me give you some context. Our party consists of four players, but for the purposes of this story, you only need to know about my character, since she is the most involved in this fiasco. She is a drow warlock, her name is Ophellia, she doesn't know who her patron is and her patron has not communicated with her at all pretty much since she first got her powers as a child, and she is a very grumpy standoffish lady. Our story takes place on a continent called Areth, and since coming her, Ophellia's patron has spoken up for the first time in about a century, giving her the quest of going to this mountain which our party found out, through visions given to us by a massive homebrew monster called the nightmare, has a massive fuck off dragon locked inside it.
So what happened. We reached this mountain after several arcs leading purely to this. We go inside, stuff happens (not too relevant here), and we find the chamber where the dragon should hypothetically be. Instead, inside, we find a corpse. And Ophellia recognises this corpse.
Something else I haven't told you about this campaign, is that it is based off of a book that my bf (the DM) is writing. In this book, a man by the name of Valefar is involved in a massive rebellion against an immortal dictator queen, and one of the people working for this queen is Ethelric/Darksky, a man who can shapeshift into a dragon (and the dragon we were sent to the mountian to investigate). In the book, Valefar dies after trapping Ethelric in the mountain, because Ethelric is effectively immortal, so this was their only solution. In the context of this campaign, this happened a couple centuries ago, and essentially no one knows about it. I thought Valefar'd death wasn't canon in the campaign, BECAUSE HE IS ALIVE DURING IT.
In the campaign, Ophellia knows Valefar. She trained with him, until she had a big falling out with the group he was a part of (the messengers). She is looking for these messengers (because she is a mean lady who likes to hold a grudge), and last I heard, a couple months ago, Valefar was prancing around an area of the continent called the Wastelands. So, he was VERY MUCH ALIVE.
AGAIN, Ethelric being trapped in this mountain and Valefar's death happened CENTURIES AGO. I don't know what any of this means. I am worried. I am scared. So many of my previous theories have now been burned to ash. My bf wont give me any clues apart from cryptic weird bullshit. I am so excited for next session. I cannot contain myself and will be thinking about this for the foreseeable future. I will be insufferable.
So that's that. The session ended with the dragon Darksky, who was in the room all along, burried under some rubble, opening his eye and staring at us. Is he evil? Possibly. Could he kill us? Easily. Are people telling us to not release him from his mountain prison ever under any circumstance? Certainly.
Am I still probably going to release him? Well I certainly want to. He is cool and he is my pookie - and we accept any wrongs a hot dragon man NPC may have done. I will defend him with my life.

Feel free to ask any type of question on this thread. More importantly, feel free to answer questions that have been asked!
Additionally, please refrain from posting multiple questions in the subreddit, and instead post the question in here. Moderators may remove or lock posts that are asking frequently asked questions.
If you believe you have a question that hasn't been answered, or would like to open a broader discussion that you feel it deserves its own thread, feel free to create an individual post! If you make an individual post, make sure to add as much context as possible, and be sure the question hasn't been answered elsewhere, or the post will be disapproved.
Old Scheduled Q&A Threads

New to Neville's teachings? Start here!

The below links contain essentially the entirety of Neville's teachings.

• Wiki
• Sidebar
• Neville Goddard's Brief Biography
• Rules

Frequently Asked Questions

Can I manifest xyz?

Yes, anything is possible.

How do I manifest xyz?

All manifestations use the same technique(s). To get good simply takes practice and imagination.
Neville's Basic Manifestation Techniques:

• The Neville Goddard Method
• Revision: The Complete Guide

What scene should I choose?

Any scene which you believe you would encounter after your wish is fulfilled.

What should I start reading?

We recommend The Law and The Promise or The Power of Awareness first for beginners. This is because Neville includes several examples and success stories from students, in addition to being lighter on Bible references, which can be off-putting or confusing to beginners.
If you want a physical copy of his books, publishers continue publishing new copies of Neville's works. Please check your library, locally owned book store, or search online for Neville's works. If you purchase a new physical copy, we recommend The Power of Imagination: The Neville Goddard Treasury, as it contains all of Neville's books in one volume.
All of Neville’s books and lectures are in the public domain and can be searched online for free, and are included in the Wiki and Sidebar links mentioned previously.

What is an SP?

Specific Person. Usually in reference to a person’s romantic interest or crush. The term was popularized by so-called, self-professed online manifestation coaches and "experts". /NevilleGoddardSP is a dedicated, expert subreddit for that.

What is a Mental Diet?

Avoiding negative conversation and media, paying attention to positive conversation and media.

What is SATS?

State Akin To Sleep (SATS) refers to the deep state of consciousness during meditation or just before falling asleep. In SATS, the body is relaxed, but control over the mind is retained. It is used to create vivid visualizations in imagination for the purposes of manifesting.

After you have decided on the action which implies that your desire has been realized, then sit in your nice comfortable chair or lie flat on your back, close your eyes for the simple reason it helps to induce this state that borders on sleep. The minute you feel this lovely drowsy state, or the feeling of gathered togetherness, wherein you feel- I could move if I wanted to, but I do not want to, I could open my eyes if I wanted to, but I do not want to. When you get that feeling you can be quite sure that you are in the perfect state to pray successfully.
Neville Goddard, 1948 Lecture Series, Lesson 4

What is the Lullaby Method?

In SATS, instead of visualizing, repeat an affirmation to oneself again and again, building the feeling of it being true.

What is Revision?

Revision is revising in imagination events that have happened in the past as a way of mitigating their effects in the future.
See also: Revision: The Complete Guide

What is Door Slamming/You are in Barbados/Living in the End/State of the Wish Fulfilled?

Closing your mind to any other possibility besides your outcome. Assuming your desire is true and not questioning it.

Do we have Free Will?

Yes, and no. It’s complicated. See here.

What is "Everyone is You Pushed Out" (EIYPO)?

On a practical level, what you believe is what you get. The world only shows you your own beliefs. On a metaphysical level, we are all the same God interacting with Itself through an infinite number of different points.

The whole vast world is no more than man's imagining pushed out. I must qualify that by saying that the world outside of man is dead, but Man is a living soul, and it responds to man, yet man is sound asleep and does not know it. The Lord God placed man in a profound sleep, and as he sleeps the world responds as in a dream, for Man does not know he is asleep, and then he moves from a state of sleep where he is only a living soul to an awakened state where he is a life-giving Spirit. And now he can himself create, for everything is responding to an activity in man which is Imagination. "The eternal body of man is all imagination; that is God himself." (Blake)
Neville Goddard, The Law lecture

What if everything is going wrong? What if I am manifesting the opposite of my desire?

Failure is generally due to a lack of consistent faith or belief in the outcome, not feeling as though it had already happened. However, if the one has consistently been loyal to their faith, then we are reminded that all manifestations have their appointed hour (Hab 2:3). Neville writes about the causes of failure here.

What about (my sick mom, my crazy grandpa, the homeless, starving children, etc.)?

In Neville's view, there is one being that is God (who is pure imagination), and has split Itself into infinite smaller forms to undergo a series of good/bad experiences across lifetimes until these smaller pieces realize they are God and reintegrate. The less fortunate are to be helped, not looked down upon, but understanding it is necessary for God to realize Itself (to experience bad and good).

What happens after I die? What is The Promise?

Neville’s prophetic vision of an individual’s reintegration with God.

Can I manifest multiple things at once?

Yes. Here is Neville's answer regarding how to manifest multiple things from Lessons Q&A:

\5. Question: Is it possible to imagine several things at the same time, or should I confine my imagining to one desire?
Answer: Personally I like to confine my imaginal act to a single thought, but that does not mean I will stop there. During the course of a day I may imagine many things, but instead of imagining lots of small things, I would suggest that you imagine something so big it includes all the little things. Instead of imagining wealth, health and friends, imagine being ecstatic. You could not be ecstatic and be in pain. You could not be ecstatic and be threatened with a dispossession notice. You could not be ecstatic if you were not enjoying a full measure of friendship and love.
What would the feeling be like were you ecstatic without knowing what had happened to produce your ecstasy? Reduce the idea of ecstasy to the single sensation, "Isn't it wonderful!" Do not allow the conscious, reasoning mind to ask why, because if it does it will start to look for visible causes, and then the sensation will be lost. Rather, repeat over and over again, "Isn't it wonderful!" Suspend judgment as to what is wonderful. Catch the one sensation of the wonder of it all and things will happen to bear witness to the truth of this sensation. And I promise you, it will include all the little things.

What if I have another question?

Please use Reddit's search feature or post it here in the Q&A thread.

Hi everyone! It’s my 25th birthday in 3 days. I had plans with a friend, but I’ve had to cancel them because I just tested positive for covid yesterday. I live with my parents at the moment and they’re both sick too, but my mum’s starting to recover because she got sick several days ago. I’m feeling a bit crummy, sore throat, headache etc, but I’m well enough that I can get up out of bed. Hopefully by my birthday I’ll be feeling a bit better, but I’m not going to be able to see anyone because I don’t want to pass it on :( what can I do at home to celebrate my birthday that’s fairly easygoing and suitable for someone who’s a little bit ill?

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.

Here is one for you all and its a long one. 44M here, been with my significant other for ~20 years, married for 11 years. At this point I don't feel like we are going to make it much longer. I don't think she wants to be with me anymore but needs me for financial support so she is trying to string me along.
Background:
I want to say right off that I know I am not perfect, have never pretended to be nor have I overlooked my shortcomings and have done everything I can to address and deal with my issues.At first things were good. We did things together, went out, hung out with friends together, bowled leagues together, had a lot of fun. We also had a good, sex life. We were having cuddling times, regular sex, great foreplay, she was pretty open to positions and trying things.
When we first got together she was working miscellaneous retail jobs. She had a 4 year college degree at this point as well but never even tried to find a job utilizing it. I was fine with her working whatever made her happy. I work in IT/Tech. I have always been the higher earner, making almost double her salary up until a couple years ago. I never once said anything about this, never gave her crap for making less or the job she worked. I only encouraged her to find a job she enjoyed. I went years, never saying anything that might hurt her, even when I was working 50-60+ hours of work in a tough field at a job I hated while she worked maybe 20-30 hours a week in a super easy job of her choosing. After about 10 years of us being together she finally decided to go back to school for computer science. To support her doing this we lived in a couple places and worked jobs I absolutely hated to make sure she could finish school without any pressure. Again, I never said anything to her about this, I did it so she could be happy. She ended up finishing and getting an extremely good paying tech job after a few years, around the time that I noticed the biggest changes about her. Prior to her latest job and changes, we were OK for a few years. We starting doing well together as we were both earning well and have no kids.
Start of problems:
After we were married for a few years she started changing. She stopped wanting to do things together, we went out less and less. Stopped watching shows and movies together, stopped gaming together. She started treating sex like a burden, made me feel bad for even trying to initiate it. She became more of a prude, stopped wanting to do almost anything sexual, stopped wanting cuddling/petting, lost almost all interest in foreplay that wasn't directly for her, she lost all interest in any type of intimacy, cuddling, foreplay, or really anything that isn't about her getting off.
I feel that I have been extremely patient over the years about all of this. She has some back issues (self inflicted, she was having soreness and pain but continued a workout regimen that was obviously not right and causing issues. I have tried to be understanding and accommodating since she had these issues. Sex was never really a big issue, even with the back problems we had a decent sex life until the last 5 or so years. She started wanting to do less and it really felt like she was just trying to get it over with (outside of when I was pleasuring her and getting her off. Once that was done it was like hurry up and finish.
More recently, last couple of years she has had 0 interest in sex or even anything physical. I mean I can barely kiss her, cant touch her at all without some excuse that it tickles or some other BS. No cuddling as she says I always pressure for sex, BS, I love foreplay and am happy with mutual getting off. I have mentioned the lack of intimacy, mentioning that is had been months since we did anything and it is always some excuse or a suggestion it may happen this weekend (going on 20+ " this weekend" without anything) . She has almost every excuse in the book as to why she doesn't want to without really having a good reason. She will blame her back bugging her but will then do a lot of work that is physically punishing, especially to someone with back issues and despite the fact that I said I would do it or try to help. I have also gotten several different things to help, wedge pillow to help with her back, tried it once and had some random complaint that I forget. She had mentioned trying a swing so she could have support in different positions. I found several options and she then made excuses about all of them, the primary one being support for the swing. I eventually called her on this being BS when the new house we got had a chain mount in one of the bedrooms ( looked like it was possibly for a heavy punching bag) that would be perfect for a swing and I tested it holding my full weight. I again mentioned getting a swing to make things better to only get additional excuses.
Further Issues:
We had always talked about wanting to move back to California and get a house there when we had the chance. We had also talked about houses we would like and things like that. When we started seriously talking about getting a house, she said she would check with work ahead of time about being able to move to another state as we had discussed, she did not. I don't think she even talked to her boss about it. She just refused to move outside of this state as she said her job required her to be her even though her boss lives in a completely different country.
When the time actually came to find and buy a house it did not work out the way I guess I had expected. Eventually, we purchased a house here after several fights as she decided she wanted a cheaper house to fix up. Not even considering the amount of work and money it would take to do so. One of her "options" was a run down ranch house that had a surprise renter (9 months left on a lease) in a very obviously water damaged basement. She picked out this house so she continued to try to justify buying it for about 100k over what it should be sold for. After about a week of looking at shitty houses and fighting she finally agreed to look at one of the houses I had chosen, the house we eventually purchased. It was a bit more but had almost all of our wants without the need to fix it up.
For the purchase, she provided the down payment from her inheritance and jointly financed the house. Once the purchase was finished and we moved in she changed, a lot. Things became more about what she wanted, she would mention things to me but completely ignore any input and just talk like what she wanted is what I chose too. Her dad then decided to visit and this was the largest wake up call I think I have had. I saw him doing all of the things that she does that annoy and frustrate me. I then realized that if I stay with her, dealing with this is my future. He took over the house and she treated me like an asshole for just wanting a bit of space that I could have to myself. She refused to deal with him or reign in his behavior. I think it was around this time that I realized that it felt like I didn't even have a home even though we just bought one, that I was just a wallet to help pay bills.
We ended up having a fight about this and I ended up leaving and staying at a hotel for a few days. This is where it got really eye opening as I considered this fight as something we would think about and get over. However, the first thing she did was talk to her friend and then reach out to divorce lawyers. She mentioned that she was talking to them about post nuptials to make sure she got the house and money. This was a signal to me, that she did not consider nor seem to appreciate all of the years that I spent working jobs I hated to supplement our income and cover for her while she went back to school. All it seemed she saw was that she got money now so the house and all of it was hers. She made a comment about how she felt the money, stocks, and house were hers. She added that she wanted a post nuptial to define this so I shouldn't be surprised if I get one to sign. Unsurprisingly, she never actually got this done, never mentioned it more so I am assuming she just got lazy and never followed up. One thing that stood out to me was that she mentioned that she could not afford the house by herself. She rambled off several things about us just being roommates and me continuing to pay for the house and bills. She came up with something about me paying and her giving me money back later or something, I ignored most of it as it was dumb, I.E. me leaving my checks going into our shared account and continuing to pay like I have been but doing so knowing she plans on keeping the house and that I might get some money later if she ever sold it. She also made a comment that I did a good job with the stocks so I should keep doing that for her and she would give me like a 1k in a few years. Since I started working with the portfolio and diversified the stocks I have made over 40k in gains for it so yeah I ignored this as I felt like it was insulting. This whole fight and conversation hit me hard, especially after 15+ years of me working hard, shitty jobs, to provide for us just to get slapped in the face by greed.
We ended up talking a bit after that fight after I ended up stopping by the house. She had mentioned previously about going to marriage counseling. I told her I didn't think it would help with our situation considering what the issues were but if she was willing to go and actually participate, I would be too. We ended up seeing a marriage counselor as she had suggested it previously and I wanted to try everything to make this work. I had previously mentioned that I didn't think it would work as she refuses to open up or discuss her issues with anyone and if she wont do that, it is a moot point. She said she would so we found a counselor and we went for a couple of months. During this time I was very open about my thoughts and feelings and gave the counselor details on my issues. She however, did not provide anything ahead of time, participate much, would not open up, and eventually said that we might as well not go as she didn't feel like we were gaining anything.
Turning Point:
I think the f*ck it point, straw that broke the camels back for me is that about a month ago, around 10 months or so since we had any kind of intimacy we had a fight. During the fight she admitted that she actually masturbates fairly regularly which really, really pissed me off as she knows the lack of sex and any kinds of intimacy was a big issue for me and was causing a lot of frustration. I was quiet about it as what I would have said would have started a big fight. I am now struggling because I cant really get over the fact that she shows me no interest, wont let me touch her, we haven't had sex in months and she admits to masturbating instead of having sex with me when she knows I am extremely sexually frustrated. To me, this shows her lack of caring about me and shows that she only really cares about herself and what she wants. This is furthered by conversations with her family I have overheard because she talks super loud on the phone and I guess she didn't realize I could hear her in the other room. This last conversation was essentially her talking about the money again and additional money she may get when her dad passes. She made the comment to them that in hindsight she would have made me sign a prenup as all of the money she has gotten and will get belongs to their family and she wants to keep it in their family. This was another moment when I was like what the hell, I am not your family?
I am torn, I have been with her for a long time, I do care for her, but she shows no interest in being with me. No interest in a relationship, doesn't want to do things together (she even said that if I want her do more things with me I have to do things she wants to do first), nothing for how I feel, what I want, no cuddling, no touching, nothing. It came down to the fact that she essentially wants a roommate that pays for her to have the house, help with chores, and helps take care of the dogs without expecting anything in return. She does not seem to get how she is, care how I feel, what I want, or really care about anything that does not benefit her.
I am at my breaking point, I have tried for years to give her everything and now as thanks, I get nothing from her. I am getting to old to keep wasting time in a loveless, sexless relationship but am also having a hard time walking away from a relationship I have been in for so long. After writing this out I am also realizing, well more wondering, what the f*ck I am doing as it seems pretty obvious I am bailing water out of a sinking boat.

“Incredible!”
The rebel reeled from the punch, the fist slamming through his protective helmet and cracking his jaw. He choked out a sob at the pain and the feeling of several of his teeth being knocked down his throat.
“This? This is what you send to try and rebel against the Imperium?! THIS?!”
A harsh kick was sent into the rebels stomach, making him cough up the rations he had that morning and a few of the once missing teeth. He grabbed his stomach and his body made to tilt forward and lay in the dust.
Only he was stopped as an armored gauntlet grabbed him by the throat and forced him to stand. His hands came up and grabbed at his attackers wrist as he stared into his own grim reaper.
Said killer wore the helmet of the Macraggian Auxilia, his faceplate being that of a stylized skull. His rank was shown proudly in the form of a centurions plum, blue and white horsehair picked out atop a gilded mount on the top of his helmet.
“Incredible. It’s truly incredible what passes for rebellion these days hm?”
The soldiers behind the centurion laughed or smiled as they watched their leader hoist the rebel up as if the rebel was some game beast that was just recently hunted. Pressure in the form of steam shot out of the centurions wrist, betraying the hidden augmented limb under the armor. The rebel tried to speak, scratching at the Centurion’s arm.
“What? Speak up damn you, and speak clearly. I have no time or patience to hear some long speech about tyranny or whatever else. We have your city to burn insurgent.”
And burn it would. Two large tanks with massive flamers could be seen in the back, protected by infantry and assault vehicles. The main force would break the walls, the infantry would kill the people, and the tanks would burn the rest to ashes.
“Aghh….thill….you….thasard!”
The rebel said, spitting blood and bone fragments from his shattered jaw through what was left of his faceplate.
“Ah. Nothing interesting to say. Oh well.”
The rebel tried in vain to speak again but was silenced as the centurion forced a power gladius through his mouth. He was then unceremoniously dropped to the dust, choking on blood as he watched the Macraggian soldiers march on his home. The last thing he saw before dying was his killer, taking his helmet off and smiling in a wide, cocky manner. ————————————————————————
“Don’t spare the body men, he was a rebel. March over him.”
Tiberius Victor, Centurion of the 3rd Macraggain Legion, yelled as he wiped the grim that had built up over his helmet. He scowled at the filth that adorned his armor and sighed.
“Bloody rebels will pay for more than just rebellion. Look at this! They scratched my faceplate! And that bastard I just killed dared to spit blood at me! Oh they will pay tenfold.”
He chuckled and shrugged as he replaced his helmet. He rolled his head and drew the lapistol he had holstered at his side. He examined it for a moment before shaking his head.
“Ugh….to easy.”
He holstered the pistol again and flourished his gladius as he grabbed the handholds of a Leman Russ tank that was about to pass him by. He climbed up until he stood on top of the tank and crouched down, using his newfound height to look over his army and the objective.
The city was massive….but so were the last three he had burned. Both Imperial Army and even Ultramarine Legion Command had told him he was too far ahead and that he needed to slow down. But where was the fun in that? Besides, the campaign has been far too easy thus far. He had suffered very few casualties, his men were never hungry and his tanks never ran dry on fuel, and the enemy bled. Oh how they bled.
He sighed.
“Easy. Far too easy. Captain?”
The command hatch the tank he rode popped open and a woman in the dirty coveralls and goggled helmet of a tank commander. She looked around, rubbing her eyes before turning and smiling widely. She gave a crisp salute, one which he lazily returned, before nodding.
“Aye my Centurion?”
“Do we have any more wine about? I’m parched from all these victories we keep piling on.”
The captain cringed then turned towards the city.
“Uh….my centurion? Wouldn’t you rather have some water?”
Tiberius turned his head towards the captain, the tilt of his head betraying the cocky smile hidden beneath that the captain and the rest of the army had come to love and hate.
“Captain….are you questioning me?”
“I-no! No, of course not my centurion! But uh….well….”
He made a ‘go on’ motion with his hand, not bothering to stand up from the relaxed position he had taken. He had laid down on his side, his sword hand having sheathed his gladius to prop his head up.
“Well….shouldn’t uh….shouldn’t wine be saved for victory?”
The centurion stared at her for a moment. A very long moment. Perhaps….to long of a moment.
“I….I apologize my centurion! I will-“
Laughter. The centurion was laughing, something he rarely did outside of combat or when around the campfires at night. He laughed loudly and caught the attention of several other Auxilia soldiers.
“True! Haha! I knew I kept you around for something Captain. Fine, me and you shall share the first bottle of wine after that….excuse for a city burns. Return to your duties captain.”
He waved the captain off then turned his head back to the city, not moving out of his relaxed position. She knew better then to consider him lazy or incompetent, she had seen him in action.
She saluted and quickly went back down into her tank. ————————————————————————
He held his helmet in the crook of his arm. He breathed in deeply, smiling as he watched the city burn. Something grabbed his boot and looked down, only to scowl in disgust.
A woman, her lower half aflame with one leg missing, held onto his boot and shin guard.
“Please….mercy! We surrender!”
He raised an eyebrow and followed the trail the rebel left in the dust to see several more wounded and scared rebels. One held up a white rag on a piece of rebar as a white flag.
Several of his auxilia aimed their rifles at the rebels as a sergeant began to moved forward with a pair of restraints.
He was stopped by Tiberius’s sword.
“Sergeant? What are you doing?”
“Uh…taking prisoners sir?”
The centurion tilted his head and smiled widely.
“Prisoners? I don’t recall ordering anyone to take prisoners.”
He lifted his boot and stomped on the wounded woman’s head, smiling wickedly at the crunch he heard under his foot.
“Uh….no my Centurion but legion command has-“
“Legion command? You are taking orders from Ultramarines instead of telling me that such orders have come through?”
“There was no time sir! The orders came fro-“
Tiberius put his helmet on and shoved the sergeant to the side, ripping the rifle from the soldiers hands.
“I see no space marines here soldier. I see soldiers and I see rebels. We kill rebels because we are soldiers.”
He took aim at the closest rebel, put his finger on the trigger and-
“Thats enough Centurion.”
He stopped. He slowly turned his head towards the new, feminine voice behind him.
“Excuse me troo-“
He stopped again and stared. She had to have been 10 feet or at least close, this goddess in blue and gold. Her short, cropped hair was golden blonde and a green, metallic laurel wreath was wrapped around her head to add to her noble features. She came with several ultramarines as an honor guard in tow but he was sure she could handle anything thrown her way with ease.
“The Lady of Macragge.”
He whispered in awe before looking around. Those under his command had shared his awe but where he shook himself free, the rest still stared.
“Damn you all, our Lady is here! Bow damn you! All of you bow!”
He paced up and down the line, ensuring his auxilia bowed. He then turned towards the rebels and pointed at the guards who stood over them.
“Them too, cmon now. Bow!”
The rebels resisted the guards orders and movements. The centurions rage grew as he stormed over and pulled his gladius from its sheath.
“I command thee BOW.”
He sliced the back of the knees of one of the captives, the man yelping in pain before yelling in agony from his nearly cut tendons. The rest fell in line quickly.
Tiberius marched towards the Primarch, her honor guard bringing their weapons to bare only for him to kneel down and stab his gladius into the dirt.
“My Lady. Centurion Tiberius Victor of the 3rd Macraggian Legion reporting.”
The Primarch stared down at the Centurion before her eyes went up and around. She took note of the rather large number of prisoners and the burning cityscape around them.
“A good campaign Centurion?”
Tiberius nodded, smiling widely under his helmet.
“Yes my Lady. I only wish it weren’t so boring, so easy! But it is done.”
It took every ounce of self control to not scowl at his arrogant and cocky nature. He spoke as if he had stomped on a bug rather than a rebels skull. Yet….something about him caught her attention.
“Remove your helm centurion.”
He did so without delay, removing his helmet and setting it at her feet. His hair was cut in the traditional military ‘high and tight’ fashion and he was mostly clean cut save for a well trimmed mustache that went no further than the corners of his mouth.
“I recall telling my command staff to recall you back as you had pushed to far ahead. Yet we stand here at the city we were meant to take, the one we were meant to hold. The one….that is currently burning to ashes around us. What do you have to say for yourself Centurion?”
He said nothing for a long time. Then, to her surprise, he laughed. The auxilia around them slowly looked at each other, their faces hidden beneath their helmets but all were worried or tense.
“Hahah! Ah….I say mission accomplished my Lady. I also say that this light really brings out the color of your eyes.”
He laughed again and slowly stood up while extending his arms out wide.
“I say I give you the best gift this galaxy can offer to someone like you from someone like me.”
His smile grew into the same cocky, full of himself grin those under his command knew so well.
“I give you victory, my Lady Juno.”
He held his gladius up and flourished it, letting the blade catch the firelight of a dying city.
“Victory.”

Introduction
An excessive rise in blood sugar or glucose is known as "Diabetes Mellitus". The primary form of sugar in blood is blood glucose, which also serves as the body's primary energy source. In addition to being produced in the muscles and liver, glucose is obtained via diet. All of the body's cells receive glucose from the blood to utilize as fuel.
The hormone known as insulin, which transports glucose to every cell in the body, is released into the circulation by the pancreas, an organ situated between the stomach and the spine. When the pancreas produces insufficient insulin or insulin that is not functioning properly, glucose remains in the bloodstream instead of entering cells. Diabetes can be brought on by excessive blood glucose levels. Diabetes can affect people of any age or gender. Diabetes occurs in three basic types: Type 1, Type 2, and Gestational Diabetes.
Type 1 diabetes:
Although it can occur in adults as well, type 1 diabetes, often known as juvenile diabetes, primarily affects young people. Due to an immune system attack and subsequent destruction of the insulin-producing cells (pancreatic beta cells), type 1 diabetes results in insufficient or nonexistent insulin production. You won't get diabetes if you eat too much sugar, despite popular belief. The immune system of a person with Type 1 diabetes attacks the beta cells in their body, which produce insulin, which is how the disease began. Monogenic diabetes is the term for a subset of rare types of diabetes caused by mutations or alterations in a single gene. The two primary types of monogenic diabetes are Maturity-Onset Diabetes of the Young (MODY) and Neonatal Diabetes Mellitus (NDM).
Before the age of six months, diabetes is more likely to be non-diabetic diabetes mellitus (NDM) than autoimmune Type 1 Diabetes Mellitus (T1DM). MODY refers to a class of hereditary autosomal-dominant conditions characterized by early-onset, usually moderate hyperglycemia (high blood sugar). Rather than insulin resistance, it is the consequence of beta-cell malfunction. MODY is associated with mutations in a minimum of eight genes. There is an older group with the slower onset disease in addition to the typical young individuals with acute onset T1DM. They may appear to have Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus (T2DM) in middle age, but tests for the anti-glutamic acid decarboxylase (GAD) antibody show indications of autoimmunity. Eventually, they develop an insulin-dependent lifestyle. This condition is known as Adult Latent Autoimmune Diabetes (LADA).
Complications of diabetes
Complications from diabetes have been shown to significantly raise health care expenditures for both treating and managing the disease as well as increasing morbidity and mortality. Diabetic patients who have out-of-range diabetes treatment and higher long-term blood glucose levels are more likely to experience microvascular and macrovascular problems.
Blood glucose levels that are too high over time can lead to a number of problems, including:

• Diseases of the eyes caused by alterations in fluid levels, tissue edema, and injury to the blood vessels in the eyes
• Foot issues brought on by nerve damage and decreased blood flow to your foot
• Gum disease and other dental issues, as harmful bacteria are encouraged to proliferate in your mouth by a high blood sugar level in your saliva. Food particles and bacteria interact to create plaque, a soft, sticky film. Eating foods high in sugar or carbohydrate can also cause plaque. Certain kinds of plaque lead to foul breath and gum disease. Cavities and tooth decay are caused by other types.
• Damage to your blood vessels and the nerves that regulate your heart and blood vessels can result in heart disease and stroke.
• Renal disease brought on by harm to the kidneys' blood arteries. Diabetes frequently results in elevated blood pressure. That could also be bad for your kidneys.
• Damage to the nerves and the tiny blood arteries that supply your nerves with oxygen and nutrients might result in nerve issues (diabetic neuropathy).
• Nerve injury and decreased blood supply to the genitalia and bladder can lead to sexual and urinary issues.
• Disorders of the skin, some of which are brought on by modifications to the small blood vessels and poor circulation. It is also more common for people with diabetes to get infections, particularly skin infections.

Additionally, acute hyperglycemia emergencies can be brought on by high blood glucose levels. These emergencies consist of:

• The most common cause of ketoacidosis, a potentially fatal condition marked by hyperglycemia and elevated blood acid (ketone) levels, is type 1 diabetes.
• Hyperosmolarity is a condition that causes the body to lose water from its organs. It is marked by prolonged hyperglycemia without ketoacidosis and severe dehydration.

Management of diabetes
Type 1 diabetes is a complicated illness that needs to be managed on a daily basis with effort and preparation. Here are some tips to help you effectively manage your Type 1 diabetes:
Check your blood sugar frequently: Using a continuous glucose monitor (CGM) or a glucometer to check your blood sugar is essential for managing diabetes and avoiding complications. If nothing else, make an effort to monitor your blood sugar levels before bed and after meals. Treating high blood sugar as soon as feasible is crucial.
Regularly take your insulin and other medications: Pay attention to the directions provided by your healthcare practitioner when taking your insulin and any additional drugs, if any.
See your endocrinologist frequently: To ensure that your Type 1 diabetes treatment plan is effective, it's critical to see your endocrinologist frequently. Don't be hesitant to pose targeted queries to them.
See your eye doctor and all of your other providers on a regular basis. Complications from type 1 diabetes can affect many parts of your body, but particularly your eyes. It's crucial to visit your ophthalmologist (eye doctor) at least once a year so they can examine your eyes.
Plan ahead for a sick day: Consult your endocrinologist about self-care and managing your diabetes during illness. Diabetes-related ketoacidosis (DKA) can be brought on by illness, so it's critical to be prepared by knowing what to do if you become ill in advance.
Stay educated: Never be reluctant to inquire about Type 1 diabetes with your healthcare physician. Your chances of leading a healthy life and avoiding problems from Type 1 diabetes increase with your level of knowledge about the disease and how to manage it.
Find a community: Making online or in-person connections with other Type 1 diabetics can make you feel less isolated while managing your condition.
Ensure your emotional well-being: Compared to people without diabetes, people with diabetes have a two to three times higher risk of depression and a 20% higher chance of receiving an anxiety diagnosis. Having a chronic illness that needs ongoing care can be very demanding. In the event that you exhibit symptoms of depression, it is imperative that you consult a mental health expert.
Conclusion
Four daily actions can help blood glucose levels remain within the desired range:
I. Stick to a balanced diet.

1. Engage in physical activity.

III. Regulate the dosage of insulin.
IV. Monitor diabetes.
At first, these tasks could seem overwhelming. Make minor adjustments until completing these actions becomes a regular part of your day.
To prevent hypoglycemia, learn to balance your insulin dosage with each meal and physical activity. Establish a goal range for your blood sugar and raise your HbA1c (keep it between 6% and 7%). Take part in running events and diabetic camps to network with other Type 1 diabetics and gain insight from their experiences. Stay positive, do yoga, and meditate. People can resume their normal lives and no longer have to fear diabetic consequences once they have learnt how to manage their diabetes.

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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

My husband and I have been trying forever for a baby. And a few months ago I finally got the two lines that indicated our dreams were becoming a reality. I knew it would be high risk but I didn’t care about the risk, this was a dream I would regret not at least trying absolutely everything to fulfill.
The first few months my husband was extremely supportive. Waiting on me hand and foot, massages even though I wasn’t even showing yet. As the second trimester marched on his excitement only grew, slowly watching the baby grow at doctor’s appointments with me.
On the way out of a doctor’s appointment I tripped and landed terribly. Luckily we were right outside the doctor’s office so we could get help immediately. I faint at the sight of blood, so I don’t remember much after touching between my legs and finding crimson stains on my fingertips. When I woke up I was dazed but was so happy to feel my baby still doing gymnastics in my stomach.
My husband, however, must have become frightened that something would happen and slowly started to detach himself from my whole pregnancy. He only offered grunts in support as I picked out colors for the nursery. We had a late term pregnancy loss before so he was just scared of losing a baby again. It was easier to detach than accept something may happen. But you can’t live in the what if’s.
As I began to unpack the furniture for the nursery and set up the cameras for the baby monitor, I could see my husband's discomfort grow. His physical demeanor only got worse the more I progressed with the furniture.
Finally he stood up and shouted what he apparently had been holding in the last two months. “You aren’t pregnant anymore Liv! You lost the baby with the fall, there was nothing the doctor could do! A therapist told me to let you grieve how you saw fit but I can’t do this anymore! It is torture to watch you decorate our dead child’s nursery.”
I didn’t say a word, and just put his hand on my stomach because as I explained to him, I don’t care what the doctor says. I know my body and my baby. As he began to roll his eyes and was just about to lift his hand the baby kicked hard. My husband's face went from disbelief to horror.
All he could mutter as tears of true depression and fear began rolling down his cheeks was, “Liv, I saw them remove our poor sweet baby with my own eyes.”
As his last word slipped out, I could feel a searing pain. I was going into labor, and for the first time I was worried what that meant.
When I wake up I realize I am no longer home. In between bouts of unconsciousness, I take in the scene around me. The doctor screaming “WE HAVE TO SAVE IT!” and it all comes rushing back. I got told I was not pregnant by my husband and immediately went into labor. Which in my haze is a very hard sequence of events to process, hell even in my right mind that would be a difficult one.
I start stirring and the doctor notices and looks down at me, beaming with pride. My husband in a chair clearly drugged also is starting to rouse and try and piece together what happened. All he can keep repeating is, “what is it?” in a stupor. Like he truly couldn’t process what happened and what was currently happening.
As I become more aware, I try and find my voice. While raspy I am able to gasp out the words, “Where is my baby?!”
The doctor looks at me the pride evaporating and a cold expression taking over his face. “Your baby died months ago. Your husband watched us remove it. However, he did not see that I went on to take advantage of your willing and ready womb by implanting something much more important than you or your child would ever become.”
I blink taking in this information. I felt this thing grow in me, thought it was a part of me, loved it more than I loved myself. But that’s when I thought it was my child, my stomach begins turning and bile begins to raise into my throat.
“Would you like to hold what you brought to life, what you birthed?” The doctor said with a look of pure curiosity crossing his face.
“Yes..” I gasp before I can rationally consider his proposition.
Walking over with a bundle, he places it into my arms, and I look down with severe trepidation. Even though I have never seen it, I know it’s the thing I felt so connected to and somehow still do. Pulling the blanket away I see what could only be described as an abomination.
It was three different children stitched together to almost become one but not quite. Clearly in pain and not meant to exist. As a look of horror crosses my face the doctor sighs.
“I was hoping for a better reaction, that maternal instinct may win out. Too bad. Considering one of those babies IS yours. These three babies couldn’t make it on their own but together they could. I tried many times, but you are the first one to actually be able to last full term and have the baby survive. I hoped maternal instinct would have won over, it would have been easier.”
The bile rises again and I listen on in terror.
The doctor continues, “Since you’re the only one this has been successful with, there will be many more attempts we will require your hospitable womb for.”

https://imgur.com/a/F25JCVi
I've got an odd spot on my upper cheek, about the size of a 50 cent piece. It's been there about 3 days. It's red and a little rough/bumpy and a bit sore to the touch. I don't know exactly what caused it, maybe excess tear irritation (my eyes have been rather watery lately)? It almost seems like a bad sunburn, but it's such a self contained area and it's the only spot it seems unlikely.
Anyway, any ideas to help it heal or hurt less in the meantime?
Demo: afab, 34, white, 5'8", 350lbs, bupropion, fluoxetine, lisinopril.

First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
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Hi doctors,
l experience daily allergies (sneezing, runny nose, itchy eyes, itchy throat) and am stopping allergy immunotherapy due to reasons mostly outside my control. My allergies include grass, pollen, dust etc. and I've seen some mixed information about taking propolis or bee pollen supplements to help reduce allergy symptoms. Can any doctor please confirm if this is a good treatment to I guess desensitise me to the allergies, or if it will just result in higher experience of allergies? I'm looking at propolis 2000mg capsules in particular at the moment but open to all recommendations!
About me: 26F, approx. 165cm tall and 70kg, no current medications (aside from daily multivitamins, calcium + vitamin D3, and probiotics), non-smoker, frequent headaches (no cause diagnosed yet), lifelong allergy sufferer and have tried various antihistamines, nasal sprays, and allergy immunotherapy with little success
Thank you in advance! :)

A number of fans of the Homeworld (HW) Universe have put a lot of thought and effort into their posts and that’s a testament to the passion that HW has brought to a lot of people.
I want to start by stating it pains me to say HW 3, especially the campaign has been a disappointment. Did we know what we were getting? Yes we had clues. Did we know the potential that HW 3 could have been based on the previous games? Oh there was immense potential!
The Homeworld series has been my favourite games (including mods) since the release of HW 1 in 1999 and I was a FIG backer for HW 3. None of the games have been perfect, but the storytelling left a long term impression and naturally the desire to want more from the series and continue to story. This has led to a loyal fan base including myself. I remember reading the HW1 manual and details about the Kushan Kiithid and the ships details numerous times.
Some of the epic storytelling events in the series that have made Homeworld what it is:
· The Kushan Kithid feuding for generations on a desert planet, Kharak, to then discover an ancient starship (Khar-Toba) buried in the desert sands. The genetic study also revealing they were not native to the planet.
· Discovering the Guide Stone in the Khar-Toba with a map pointing out Hiigara “Home”
· Discovering a Hyperspace Core and the Kiithid coming together to build the Mothership with Karan S’Jet integrated as Fleet Command
· Kharak burning – What treaty did the Kharak people break and what was their past? The war with the Taiidan Empire begins to reclaim their home.
· The Garden of Kadesh and realising they were part of the same race.
· The Bentusi and discovering why the people of Hiigara were exiled to the far reaches of the galaxy.
· Defeating the Taiidan Emperor, Riesstiu IV, and taking back Hiigara
· Learning more about the Kiithid in Cataclysm, the Beast, and the Bentusi’s fear – “We shall not be bound”
· Bentus sacrificing itself so the Hiigarans and Karan S’Jet could re-unite the 3 Hyperspace Cores
· Progenitor Relics, ships and guardians
· Balcora Gate and the battle to recovering the third Hyperspace core from Makaan (who believed he was the Sajuuk-Khar) and the Vagyr
· Transferring from the mothership to the long-lost Progenitor starship Sajuuk. Seeing the mothership drift away. It was a memorable moment .
· Saving Hiigara from the Scorched Earth scenario. The fleet fought hard to save Hiigara and their people.
· The Eye of Aaran which Sajuuk and the 3 hyperspace cores unlocking the vast hyperspace gate network. Hiigara opened up a trade/exploration/colonisation network across the galaxy and beyond. Not just for them, but for all civilisations.
Finally the day comes when the HW3 Collector’s Edition arrives after waiting years as a FIG Backer. It was amazing. The artwork was beautiful. The models were great and go well with the HW2 collector’s edition. After so many years, HW3 was finally here!
I finished the HW3 campaign a couple of nights ago. First there was anger, frustration, followed by mourning the loss of such a great opportunity that could have been for the Homeworld Universe. After playing 4 previous HW games for years, it feels like the team that wrote the HW3 script really did not understand the franchise, storyline to date, and its ‘spirit’.
After watching the promotional videos from the team from Blackbird Interactive saying HW3 was for the fans that have been with them along the 25 year journey (Relic Entertainment back then) the disappointment was very real. Sure it’s a visually beautiful game and some of the game features are an improvement which they couldn’t do in HW 1 and 2, but this did not feel like a continuation for the long term fans. This felt like a simpler HW labelled game for a new fan base. Such a missed opportunity! There has been the release of Homeworld Mobile and the VR version so Gearbox are looking to maximise the revenue while they can, and I can’t blame them for that.
My HW3 opinion:
· Aesthetically, HW3 is stunning
· I really like the look of the Khar-Kushan Mothership
· Deserts of Kharak showed the struggle and Kiithid conflict aswell as how difficult life was on a Desert Planet. HW1 was about the Kushan coming together to fight for their true home after Kharak was burned. Cataclysm did a good job expanding the different Kushan (now Hiigaran) Kiithid. HW2 felt like an “unbound” storyline with the three Hyperspace Cores – Karan got her time in the limelight – the three cores and Sajuuk combined was the key to the hyperspace network and “The Age of S’Jet”. HW3 continued with a focus on being ‘unbound’ lacking the substance behind who the Hiigarans are and their history, even before their exile…a missed opportunity.
· Popular fan request – Let us finish collecting resources! Imogen and the fleet were being hunted so I understand the urgency behind the gameplay…….but still, the player should have the option to jump when they want to.
· Besides one interceptor getting stuck on an object on mission 13, I had a pretty smooth gaming experience. The intelligence of the fleet and formations was a bit dodgy which required a lot of micro management.
· Cinematics between missions. The quality varied. Feels like more time and money was spent on the development of each one instead of a decent storyline. Why did it need to be done when you compare to the predecessor games? Likely because this game was more character focussed instead of a Fleet Focus.
· Khar-Kushan colliding with the giant freighter. That would have caused catastrophic damage and serious structural integrity issues. It seemed a bit too much! An evasive manoeuvre which led to the Synth Hyperspace Core housing being damaged as it clipped the freighter would have been enough to temporarily take out, power, propulsion and two out of the three cores.
· Ship designs were bland and generic lacking the HW2 creativity. Hiigarans have discovered quite a bit of Progenitor tech so why are they still stuck with the same types of weapons.
· No Sub Systems compared to HW2
· No targetable ship components e.g. engines, primary weapon etc. compared to HW2
· IMO the fleet ship types and options were far inferior to HW 1 & 2. It felt dumbed down significantly.
· One kind of Corvette……..really???
· Hiigaran Carrier….horrible design and couldn’t keep up with the Khar-Kushan.
· Why no Ship Yard? I can understand the Khar-Kushan had capital ship building capabilities, but it still would have added flexibility in Fleet logistics.
· Fleet control options were not great and missing a few options compared to HW 1 & 2. When you have a fast paced fleet battle going on, you want to minimise the time it takes to search for ship order functions.
· Using classic controls with terrain tunnels sucked. I struggled with the camera view because of the terrain. Too often I was met with blue screen because the camera was inside a structure or terrain.
· The antagonist – The Queen of Incarnate, Tiaa’Ma. An Unbound that has been around for millennia with far superior knowledge and use of hyperspace, can move and destroy planets on a whim, can turn off hypergates or redirect them. With that kind of power, why didn’t she hunt down the cores and search the galaxy for them? A tyrant that has killed millions. The Queen in general as the antagonist and the campaign ending was incredibly bad.
· With the 3 Hyperspace Cores gone, the 15^th fleet are not the only ones stranded. The Hyperspace gate network is down for all civilisations. Far jumping is gone. What detrimental effect will that have on the galaxy at large including the Hiigaran colonies, economy, diplomatic relations with other civilisations etc.?
· Imogen’s choice not to engage with the Incarnate after their Queen was gone was poor form!
· Imogen S’Jet – The hair…dry and wet…WTF
· I personally wanted to learn more about the Progenitor. Instead, I got hive mind Progenitor worshipers and still very little information about them or those who created the cores and the gates etc.
· Sajuuk combined with the three hyperspace cores was the key to opening the Hyperspace Gates. It was a superior ship IMO. So where is Sajuuk now? Were the 3 cores removed and put into a new mothership (Khar-Sajuuk) with the primary weapon looking like a mini Sajuuk sticking out of the centre of the ship. If it is the Sajuuk with the Mothership built around it, the scale is way off. Sajuuk was a mothership size vessel!
So after that rant, HW3 is beautiful but a hard pill to swallow after 25 years of loving the HW Universe. Life goes on! I hope the loyal fan base provides constructive feedback for BBI and Gearbox Software in hope it is listened to and used to bring back epic storytelling.

Hey all, I'm sure these "what do these symptoms sound like" posts get redundant, but I'm trying to help my mom. Over the past 6 months she's been in increasing amounts of pain. I had her type out her story and I'm going to post it for her. I myself was diagnosed with fibro back in 2020. My pain is different than hers but as we know, fibro comes in all sorts of flavors. Take a look below and lmk what you think. Hope you're having an awesome and pain free day :)
"Back in November I injured my back from picking up a young child incorrectly, I picked her up with my arms extended instead of close to my core, right after I picked her up I felt a “twinge” in my lower back and thought to myself darn my back didn’t like that and set her down. I didn’t think much of it and went on with my day, by the next day I noticed my sciatia was bothering me. I waited one more day and then decided to see my acupuncturist, and she solved my problem but I noticed back pain lingered. I continued my usual daily routines and work schedule. Weeks passed and still the pain wasn’t going away. I also started to develop severe acid reflux and had no previous history then came constipation, and stomach pain after I would eat no matter what I ate or how small the meal. I started twice weekly acupuncture treatments hoping for relief. I had a little but nothing consistent. After six weeks of twice a week treatments I stopped. The back pain seem to get worse, it didn’t matter if I would try to do nothing and just relax or if I had a busy day and took care of my grandson.
The pain patterns don’t make sense, the soreness can feel like its directly in my spine or the muscles on each side of my spine. Sometimes my back muscles hurt so bad it’s the type of sore pain that you feel when you get the flu and have intense body aches. The pain is localized from my mid back down to my lower back. As time goes on the nights seem to be the worse, I fall sleep but with 1 to 2 hours I wake up with pain in extreme intensity, it feels like someone is squeezing my entire torso or crushing my spine. Heat use to help but it doesn’t bring soothing relief anymore. In the past 1-2 months the intensity of the pain has been getting worse to the point where it affects my ability to cope with the pain and I start to do short rapid breathing to cop with it, kind of like being in labor.
I decided to consult a chiropractor to be evaluated for possible disk or vertebrae damage. He had a different approach to testing and evaluating, he uses a computerized test the measures the central nervous system along with health history and x-rays. He references the sympathetic and para-sympathetic system and how those systems affect so many systems throughout the body and I was familiar with the information is why I concluded my acid reflux and stomach issues developed shortly after my back injury. After researching online I concluded that I developed Gastroparesis which is tied to the Vegus nerve and its functions. I was going three times a week for adjustments but now I’m going daily because we learned that my nervous system is so inflamed that even the adjustments cause me immense pain later that day and the next.
I feel like there hasn’t been any significant improvements yet. It’s almost getting worse the longer time passes. Nights are my most dreaded time because I only sleep 3-4 hours and I go from my bed to couch trying to change positions or use ice or heat to bring hopeful relief. Nothing seems to help, no position lying or sitting, heat or ice, resting or active. Occasionally I have a day where the pain is minimal and then I think I’m on my way to normalcy then the night or next day is unbearable. The past two days I’ve had to resort to taking over the counter pain medication but I haven’t resorted to that because I know it can cause stomach and liver damage.
Overall summary of pain; mild to extreme lower back muscle, tissue or nerve pain/ mid spine directly in my vertebrae a feeling as if some put a wedge right into my spine/ entire back muscle pain so intense that when the hot water of a shower hits it I cringe until my body adjusts/ acid reflux but has almost disappeared with the help of chiropractic adjustments, stomach pains after eating continue and are very painful/ constipation improved with chiropractor adjustments but has returned again/ Epson salt baths, hot showers, inferred sauna all help while in process but after the pain and soreness return/ physical therapy helped strengthen core but no back relief/ yoga poses or stretches don’t help/ meditative breathing doesn’t help.

It's been 6 months the incident/trigger of injury doesn’t justify the length and intensity of ongoing pain. I believe my body has been in the sympathetic mode (fight or flight) for months. I just want to understand why this is lingering so long and so intense. Any feedback is greatly appreciated."

Chest pain can arise from various conditions, some of which are serious and require immediate medical attention, while others are less severe. Here are some common causes of chest pain:

Cardiac Causes

1. Angina

• Chest pain due to reduced blood flow to the heart muscle, often triggered by physical activity or stress.

1. Myocardial Infarction (Heart Attack)

• Severe, crushing chest pain due to the blockage of blood flow to a part of the heart muscle.

1. Pericarditis

• Inflammation of the pericardium (the sac surrounding the heart), causing sharp, stabbing pain.

1. Myocarditis

• Inflammation of the heart muscle, often leading to chest pain, fatigue, and shortness of breath.

1. Aortic Dissection

• A tear in the inner layer of the aorta, causing severe, ripping chest pain.

Gastrointestinal Causes

1. Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD)

• Acid reflux causing a burning sensation in the chest, often after eating.

1. Esophageal Spasm

• Sudden, intense contractions of the esophagus leading to chest pain.

1. Peptic Ulcer

• Sores in the stomach lining causing burning pain that can be mistaken for heart pain.

1. Gallbladder Disease (e.g., Gallstones)

• Pain from gallbladder issues can radiate to the chest.

Pulmonary Causes

1. Pulmonary Embolism

• A blood clot in the lung causing sharp chest pain, shortness of breath, and rapid heart rate.

1. Pneumonia

• Infection of the lungs leading to chest pain, fever, and difficulty breathing.

1. Pleuritis (Pleurisy)

• Inflammation of the lining of the lungs, causing sharp pain, especially with breathing or coughing.

1. Pneumothorax (Collapsed Lung)

• Sudden onset of sharp, one-sided chest pain and shortness of breath.

Musculoskeletal Causes

1. Costochondritis

• Inflammation of the cartilage connecting ribs to the breastbone, causing sharp pain.

1. Muscle Strain

• Overuse or injury to chest muscles can cause persistent pain.

1. Rib Fractures

• Broken ribs from trauma can cause significant chest pain, especially when breathing deeply or coughing.

Psychological Causes

1. Panic Attack

• Intense anxiety or panic leading to chest pain, rapid heartbeat, and shortness of breath.

1. Anxiety

• Chronic anxiety can cause chest tightness and discomfort.

Other Causes

1. Herpes Zoster (Shingles)

• A reactivation of the chickenpox virus causing a painful rash and chest pain if the chest area is affected.

1. Hiatal Hernia

• Part of the stomach pushes up through the diaphragm, causing chest pain and discomfort.

Given the wide range of potential causes, chest pain should be evaluated by a healthcare professional, especially if it is severe, persistent, or associated with symptoms such as shortness of breath, sweating, nausea, or dizziness. Early diagnosis and appropriate treatment are crucial for conditions like heart attacks and pulmonary embolisms, which can be life-threatening.

Until I started subtitling the audiobook, I never considered reading the English version of LOTM. To my surprise, the quality of the English translation seems somewhat 'disrespectful' to the original book. With the money Qidian made from it, they should have hired at least one English literature graduate, if not three English literature professors, to proofread it.
Even though I'm not a native English speaker, I couldn't resist the urge to translate some parts in my own way. One thing led to another, and now I have a brand new translation of Chapter One.
Now, I have a question for my fellow fans of LTOM:

• Do you think this is a much better translation that you would like to wait and use it for subtitling LOTM's audiobooks? Or
• Do you feel the difference is so minimal that you'd prefer me to use the original translation so I can release subtitled audiobooks faster?

Here is another thread of mine discussing subtitling LOTM's audiobooks: https://www.reddit.com/LordofTheMysteries/comments/1csz252/dramatized_audiobooks_with_english_subtitles/, in case you're interested.

Ouch!
Ow…ouch!
Ow…my head is killing me!
The fantastic yet surreal dream surrounded by whispering and murmuring shattered away instantly, Zhou Mingrui who was sound asleep felt an abrupt throbbing pain deep inside his head, as if his head were ruthlessly clubbed. No, it felt more like something sharp penetrated his temple, followed by twisting and stirring.
Feeling disoriented, Zhou Mingrui wanted to turn around, clutch his head, or sit up. Yet, unable to move his hands or feet, he felt like he had lost all control over his body.
Looks like I’m still in some sort of dream, didn’t really wake up… Moments later, I might even think I'm fully awake, only to realize I'm still asleep… Familiar with such experiences, Zhou Mingrui tried desperately to concentrate, hoping to break free from the grip of darkness and disorientation.
However, trapped between wakefulness and sleep, the willpower was as elusive as smoke, difficult to control and concentrate. Despite his efforts, his thoughts kept wandering wildly, with all sorts of ideas coming and going.
How could I suddenly have a headache out of nowhere in the middle of the night?
Especially one which hurts so badly!
Could it be something like a cerebral hemorrhage?
Damn, am I going to die at such a young age?
Wake up! Wake UP!
Huh? Doesn't feel as painful now? Although it still feels like a blunt knife is cutting through my brains…
Sure thing is, I won’t be able to fall asleep any more. How am I supposed to show up for work tomorrow?
Why even bother going to work? This is a legitimate headache, perfect for time off! And no need to worry about the manager's grumblings.
Put it this way, it’s not so bad after all. Yea, free time off for me!
In between the waves of throbbing pain, Zhou Mingrui gradually accumulated a sense of elusive strength. Finally, with a determined effort, he straightened his back and opened his eyes, breaking free from the state of half-sleep and half-wake.
His vision was blurry at first, then tinged with a faint crimson hue. In his line of sight, Zhou Mingrui saw a sturdy wooden desk, upon which lay an open notebook. The papers were rough and yellowed. Where the title supposed to be, there was a sentence written in strange characters, with eye-catching thick, dark ink that seemed ready to drip.
To the left of the notebook, along the edge of the desk, was a stack of seven or eight neatly arranged books. On the wall to their right, were grayish-white pipes inset into the wall, with wall lamps at their ends.
The lamps had a classical Western style, about half the size of an adult's head. It featured a transparent inner layer made of glass and an exterior grid made of black metal.
Diagonally beneath the unlit lamp, was a black ink bottle shrouded in a pale red glow.
On its embossed surface was a blurry angel figure.
In front of the ink bottle and to the right of the notebook, lay a dark-colored pen with a fully circular body. Its tip shimmered with a faint glint while its cap rested right beside a brass revolver.
A gun?
A revolver?
Zhou Mingrui was completely taken aback. Everything in front of him felt absolutely alien, nothing looked like his own room.
Shocked and confused, he came to the realization that the desk, the notebook, the ink bottle, and the revolve were all coated with a layer of crimson “veil” from the light shining through the window.
Without realizing what he was doing, he raised his head, looking up bit by bit.
In the midair, beyond the heavy smooth darkness, hung a crimson full moon, glowing silently.
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified, as he stood up abruptly. However, before he could fully straighten his knees, a throbbing pain struck his head, draining all his strength. He fell, with his buttocks slammed heavily back onto the burly wood chair.
The pain didn’t stop him for a moment. Zhou Mingrui popped up, turned around in a fluster, and began examining his surroundings.
The room was not big, with a brown door on both of his sides. Against the wall in front of him, was a wooden bunk bed. Between the bed and the door to the left was a cabinet with two opposing doors and five drawers beneath them.
Next to the cabinet was a pipe of the same grayish-white, inset into the wall at the height of a person. What distinct it is that it connected to a strange looking mechanical device, which had a few of gears and bearings exposed here and there.
Items resembling coal stoves, sat in the right corner of the room near the desk, along with some kitchenware such as soup pots and iron pans.
Through the right door, was a dressing mirror with a couple of cracks, standing on a wooden base emboss with simple plain patterns.
While looking around, Zhou Mingrui noticed himself in the mirror, the present him.
Dark hair, brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt, slim, average-looking features and a rather deep outline…
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui grasped the situation immediately as many helpless and confused thoughts surfaced in his mind.
The revolver, the classical European style decorations, as well as the crimson moon that looked nothing like Earth's moon—all of them were screaming the exact same thing.
Who am I?
C-could I have transmigrated?
Zhou Mingrui's mouth slowly opened wider and wider, bit by bit.
He had grown up reading web novels, even fantasized about such scenes from time to time. However, the fantasy was incredibly difficult to accept now that he found himself in one.
Classic "Talk? Yes, yes! Action? No, no!", isn’t it?
In less than a minute, Zhou Mingrui had already started to sarcastically critique, attempting to make the best of whatever situation he found himself in.
But for the throbbing headache forcing him to think fast and sharply, he would for sure be convinced that he was dreaming.
Easy, easy, easy…taking deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui was trying really hard to make himself to calm down.
Just as his mind and body began to relax, pieces of memories started to flush, slowly flooding into his consciousness.
Klein Moretti.
A citizen of the City of Tingen, Awwa County, Loen Kingdom in the Northern Continent
Recently graduated from the Department of History at Khoy University…
His father was a sergeant of the Imperial Army, who had sacrificed his life during a colonial ware with the Southern Continent. His bereavement allowance made it possible for Klein to study at a private literature school, paving the way for his admission into university…
His mother was a devotee of the Evernight Goddess, who passed away the year Klein passed the entrance examinations to Khoy University…
He also had an elder brother and a younger sister, living together in a two-bedroom apartment.
Their family was far from wealthy, and its financial situation could even be described as somewhat strained.
Currently, the family was supported solely by the elder brother who worked as a clerk at an import and export company …
As a college graduate majored in history, Klein was proficient in the ancient language of Feysac, considering the origin of all languages in the Northern Continent, as well as the language of Hermes, which was commonly found in ancient mausoleums and often associated with sacrificial scenes and praying rituals.
Hermes?!
Zhou Mingrui's mind started to race as he reached out to rub his throbbing temples.
He cast his gaze toward the desk at the opened notebook, but to realize that the strange looking characters on the yellowed paper started to look somewhat familiar, then increasingly recognizable, and finally comprehensible.
It was a statement written in Hermes!
The thick, dark ink, seemingly ready to drip, read:
“Everyone will die including me myself!”
Hiss! Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified. He instinctively leaned back, attempting to escape away from the notebook, and the ominous statement on it.
Being so weak, he almost fell down, but managed to extend his hands in a fluster to grasp the edge of the desk.
He felt that air around him air started to roar, filled with faint whispering and murmurings. It felt just like listening to horror stories told by elders when he was young.
He shook his head, telling himself that all these were nothing but an illusion. Getting back onto his feet, he looked away from the notebook while still breathing heavily.
This time, his sight landed on the shimmering brass revolver, immediately realizing something unexplainable.
With Klein's social status, in what universe he would have the money or access to buy a revolver?!
Zhou Mingrui couldn't help but furrow his brow. Deeply puzzled, his eyes were caught by a reddish handprint at the edge of the desk, which was even darker than the moonlight, as well as thicker than the “veil”.
It was a bloody handprint!
A bloody handprint?
Zhou Mingrui instinctly flipped his right hand, that was pushing against the edge of the desk. Looking at it, he saw his palm and fingers covered in blood.
In the meaning time, the throbbing pain was getting a little bit better, yet didn’t go away, binding him like one tie after another.
Did I smash and injure my head? Zhou Mingrui guessed as he turned around, walking towards the cracked dressing mirror. After just a few of steps, a medium build figure of dark hair and brown eyes appeared clearly in front of him. The person had a distinct scholarly air to him.
Is this the present me?
Klein Moretti?
Zhou Mingrui was stunned. The poor lighting of the night obscured his vision, preventing him from clearly discerning something he had noticed. He continued forward until he was just a step away from colliding with the mirror.
Illumined by the crimson veil-like moonlight, he turned his head and began to examine the side of his forehead. A clear reflection appeared in the mirror. There, no his temple, was a grotesque wound with burn marks around the edges, blood staining the surrounding area. Grayish-white brain matter was slowly seeping out from within.

So I’m staying at an Airbnb and my allergies have been horrible. Headache, burning eyes, skin is crawling and brain burning kind of allergies. A friend comes over and they check the air filter to see if it needs cleaning. It’s DISGUSTING. I text the owner of the Airbnb and she maintains that she changes the filter “every couple of months,” but I want to put this photo of the dirty filter out to the internet to see how long people think the owner hasn’t changed the filter for? What are peoples experiences with air filters? Do they really build up dust and all this gunk in just a couple of months like the owner said? Or does this filter look like it hasn’t been changed in 6 months - a year? Please help settle my internal debate. I just want some peace of mind that I’m not crazy, or if this is actually what a couple of months of air vent buildup looks like. Thanks!

Hemorrhoids, though often a source of discomfort and embarrassment, are a common affliction affecting millions of individuals worldwide. The discomfort they bring can range from mild irritation to severe pain, leading many to seek relief through various treatments. One such solution gaining attention is Simple H Hemorrhoid Cream. In this article, we'll delve into what Simple H Cream is, how it works, its ingredients, benefits, drawbacks, and a final conclusion on its efficacy.
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https://www.latinoleadmn.org/group/leadership-action-team/discussion/24e447c4-b67a-4b0d-8bcd-280d28397f4d
https://www.50statecoalition.com/group/eviefinn-1/discussion/d89cf02f-dd38-4f38-a193-e0515832d37b
https://www.irvac.org/group/mysite-200-group/discussion/a8bdb1c0-c8d2-454f-b3b5-c4105d0253f5
https://www.myrtlebeastocr.com/group/news-events/discussion/e2b1aed8-075b-4069-bc1f-e12108eeafc3
https://www.grbudc.com/group/fathers-day-luncheon-pictures/discussion/97863a96-e364-429e-b169-8bf7d65721fd
https://www.oksoberfest.com/group/oksoberfest-group/discussion/c305981f-3a69-4b93-b867-43ae0daab448
https://www.espacobaiao.com/group/grupo-template-2-espaco/discussion/6642c9a3-1360-4259-a381-4d6b6a653ad9
https://www.beyondyogabysaillo.com/group/my-site-2-gruppe/discussion/061a93c2-5e80-45cb-a958-9d81eac7907f
https://forum.freeflarum.com/d/63299-simple-h-cream-reviews-analyzing-the-pros-and-cons
https://diendannhansu.com/threads/simple-h-cream-reviews-what-experts-and-users-are-saying.435130/
https://blog.rackons.in/simple-h-cream-reviews-its-scam-or-not

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.