Claire coffee nude
MochaCuties
2019.09.14 12:07 MochaCuties
Coffee-colored beauties and cuties from around the world, topless and nude.
2016.02.14 06:29 Sammy_Samuelson Elizabeth Turner
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2015.08.31 00:40 ManBat1 Carmella Rose
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2024.05.19 05:07 Right_Trick_5848 [H] 60-70% Most Payments [W] Amazon GC UK/DE/FR/ES Steam Wallet: Any UK/GBP: Most Gift Cards e.g ASDA, Argos, Tesco, Currys, John Lewis etc ...
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gift codes one 4 all tk maxx
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2024.05.19 05:07 Right_Trick_5848 [H] 60-70% Most Payments [W] Amazon GC UK/DE/FR/ES Razer Gold UK/GBP: Most UK Gift Cards e.g ASDA, Argos, Tesco, Currys, John Lewis etc ...
***My Impersonators (DO NOT TRADE WITH): Right-Trick-5848, righttick_5848 Note the misspellings, note the dash "-" instead of the underscore "_", always verify it is me in PMs
Amazon DE Germany, FR France, ES Spain @ 60%
Razergold Global/USA @ 65%
Steam: Any currency @ 60%
UK: Amazon, Asda, Currys, Argos, Tesco, Sainsburys, Morrisons, John Lewis, Love2Shop, One4all, Justeat, Wickes, Ikea, Screwfix, Deliveroo, Ubereats, Cex, Uber, Game, TKMaxx, Whsmiths, M&S, Marks and Spencer etc @ 60-70%
UK other cards but at lower rates: ASOS,Accessorize,Adidas,Aer Lingus,Airbnb,Allsaints,American Golf,Apple Itunes,Ask Italian,B&Q,Beaverbooks,Bella Italia,Bonus Bonds,Boohoo,Boots,Boux Avenue,Bunnings,Burberry,Cafe Rouge,Caffe Nero,Claires,Clarks,Coast,Compliment Vouchers,Compliments Experience Days,Coop,Costa Coffee,Dining Out,EE,Ernest Jones,Espa,Everyman Cinema,Experience Days,Fat Face,Flannels,Foot Locker,Fortnum & Mason,Frankies & Bennys,Gap,Giffgaff,Goldsmiths,Google Play,H&M,H.Samuel,HMV,Halfords,Harrods,Harvey Nichols,Hollister,Hotel Chocolat,House of Fraser,Jack Wills,Jd Sports,Karen Millen,LMG Jewellery,Lakeland,Lasiguanas,Leisure Vouchers,Liberty,Mamas & Papas,Mango,Matalan,Michael Cors,Miller & Carter,Monsoon,Moss Bros,Nandos,National Book Tokens,National Rail,Netflix,New Look,Next,Nike,Nintendo,Now TV,O2,Odeon,Pandora,Paul Smith,Pets at home,Pizza Express,Pizza Hut,Play Store,Playstation PSN,Prezzo,Primark,Quiz Clothing,Red Letter Days,Restaurant Choice,River Island,Selfridges,Signet Connect,Spafinder,Sports Direct,Spotify,Sunglass Hut,Superdry,Swarovski,Sweaty Betty,Ted Baker,The Body Shop,The Jockey Club,The Range,The White Company,Theatre Tokens,Thomas Pink,Three,Ticketmaster,Trailfinders,Tui,Turtle Bay,UGG Australia,Victoria Secret,Virgin,Virgin Experience Days,Vue Cinema,Waterstones,Wh Smith,WhSmith,Xbox Microsoft,Zara
Star.bucks: Any currency @ 50%
Rates are for paypal G&S, if paypal F&F then 5% less, if anything else then 10% less.
If no proof of source of gift card or low value then 5% less
My confirmed trades pinned in my profile (plus GCX registered "Experienced trader")
can pay by transferwise, paypal, skrill, revolut, most crypto listed on binance, ethereum eth, litecoin ltc, bitcoin btc.
gift codes one 4 all tk maxx
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2024.05.19 03:16 GodSpeed3477 29M Looking to make Nudist friends in SoCal
I have considered myself a nudist for about 2 years now. I had a huge body positivity / body acceptance phase that lead to me telling (asking politely) my roommates that id begin being naked at home. I then took a stop at Blacks Beach to walk naked for 30 minutes, and was hooked! My girlfriend has been extremely supportive and im going to try to take her to Glen Eden to see if shed join me :)
Since that first Blacks Beach visit ive continued being naked primarily at home, but I want to meet others to talk to and go to clothing optional locations! I would even appreciate meeting for coffee or something in order to talk beforehand if that helps warm anyone up.
I really enjoy the feeling of freedom that being nude provides. That it should be desexualized and allow people to just be. I think the human body is beautiful and all our bodies tell stories. Looking to make friends to talk and discuss with :) eventually going to clothing optional beaches/resorts if comfortable
Thank you!
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2024.05.19 01:22 engineeringgirl123 I just had my color analysis and I’m soft summer but can lean into soft autumn. Any go-to suggestions for products?
2024.05.18 15:00 Ill-Independence8754 This post is to compile all of Nick-lore and most unhinged moments with Nicolas Keeley Harris aka Nickfromthegym, Fitwithnick, Nickisawreck864, Nickwins, or Jacked Janitor.
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2024.05.17 22:36 HorrorJunkie123 I had to fire someone. She was NOT happy about it.
“You’re fired.”
Those two dreaded words are the last thing anyone wants to hear. As the manager of a small coffee shop, they’re the last words I ever wanted to say. But, unfortunately, I did have to say them, and the employee on the receiving end was less than pleased.
“Seriously, Calla? Robby comes in twenty minutes late every shift, and I’m the one getting canned? It’s not fair. I won’t accept that.”
“Claire, Robby has one leg. He gets a pass. You took cash from the register. That’s not something we can turn a blind eye to,” I said, crossing my arms.
Claire pursed her lips, shifting her gaze to the ground momentarily, before scowling at me once again. “It was only fifty bucks. I needed the money for rent, and I said I’d pay it back! Please, Calla. I need this job. I’ll put a hundred dollars back in the register on pay day. Just give me a second chance.”
I let out a deep sigh. She wasn’t taking this well. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Aftermath has a zero-tolerance policy for theft. Even if you were to pay it back, the big boss still wouldn’t excuse it. I would be putting my own job in jeopardy by looking the other way, and that’s just not something I can afford to do. Your actions have consequences, Claire. You brought this on yourself.”
She glanced up at me with teary eyes. Though Claire was entirely in the wrong, my heart shattered for her all the same. She was a good kid. Just a little misguided… Or so I thought.
“I won’t forget this, Calla. Mark my words, I will make you pay,” she spat, before dramatically stomping out the door.
My eyes grew wide, and my heart began to race. If any normal human being had said that, I would have blown it off entirely. But, there’s a little oddity about my job that I may have (purposely) forgotten to mention. You see, I’m a clairvoyant of sorts. I work at a coffee shop for the dead - And they tend to take things a lot more personally than the living.
A gruff-looking man with a leather jacket and ripped jeans leaned against the counter, snapping my attention away from the door. He had an unkept beard and a nasty road rash seared into his face. The shades obscuring his eyes exuded an air of confidence that he had no business possessing. Even so, his appearance didn’t intimidate me in the slightest.
“Don’t worry about her, Calla. She’s talking out her ass.”
“I appreciate the reassurance, Frank. I know she probably just needs to blow off some steam, but it always freaks me out when shit like that happens. No offense to all you dead folk, but I don’t wanna kick the bucket any time soon, ya know?”
“That’s fair. Purgatory ain’t that bad, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the land of the living. By the way, if you get a chance, can you whip me up my regular? I could use a boost.”
“Sure thing. Coming right up. Is there anything else I can get for y-” I tried my best to stop myself, but it was too late. I knew better than to ask that question to Frank.
“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning in closer.
“Don’t you say it. Frank, I swear, if you-”
“I’ll take your soul!”
I glowered at him as he roared with laughter. “Come on, Calla. Have a sense of humor!” he wheezed, tears welling in his eyes.
“Frank. You have told me that same joke every chance you get for the entire time I’ve been working here. It wasn’t funny the first time you said it, and it’s definitely not funny now. I oughta charge you double every time you tell it.”
He frowned at me, before turning to his normal booth. “Geez, would it kill ya to lighten up a bit? Buzzkill…”
As I was beginning to prepare Frank’s blonde espresso, I heard the familiar chime of the door opening. A kid with disheveled blonde hair and scratches across his face hobbled inside, leaning on a crutch.
“Hey Robby! Nice of you to show up,” I beamed, flashing him a warm smile. I glanced down at my watch. Twenty minutes late, right on the nose.
“Always gotta give me shit, huh Mrs. Calla? You try hoppin’ to work one day, then we’ll talk,” he quipped, returning a grin.
“Ya know what? Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. I do-” I froze, mid-sentence. All the color drained from my face, and I suddenly found myself unable to speak. I clutched at my side, barely able to breathe. A random, searing pain shot through my torso. I felt like I was going to pass out.
“Calla? Calla, are you okay? Say something.” Robby rushed over to me, his face contorted with worry. I weakly returned his gaze. The agony was beyond anything I had ever felt before. It was as if someone had stabbed me with a white-hot fire poker and decided to twist it a couple times for good measure. Excruciating was an understatement.
Just as my vision was starting to go fuzzy, the pain began to dissipate. I gasped for air, leaning heavily on the counter for support. What the hell was that?
“I’m all right,” I said, turning my head. Frank had joined Robby behind the counter. The pair of them both had a look of deep concern etched into their features. If I wasn’t dying, I probably would have found it endearing.
“Are you sure? You look like shit, Calla.”
That’s it. I’m definitely charging him double.
“Gee, thanks a lot, Frank. You’re such a gentleman.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, never giving any indication that he was joking. Robby and I both glared at him.
“Go sit down, Frank. You too, Mrs. Calla. You should probably take the rest of the day off. Don’t worry, I can handle the shop,” Robby said, helping me to a chair.
“You know what? I think you’re right. I could go for a nap.”
After resting for a little while longer, I went home. Robby wasn’t a professional by any means, but I trusted him to keep Aftermath running smoothly, at least until I recovered. He really was a good kid. I always thought it was such a shame that he’d died in such a tragic manner. IEDs are no joke.
I made sure to take it easy and get plenty of rest. I didn’t experience any more phantom pains for the remainder of the day, but I knew that I would need to get a good night’s sleep. With Claire gone, I’d be stuck on opening shifts for the foreseeable future. Yuck.
I was almost done running through my tasks for the morning, when it happened. A man approached the counter, his face obscured by a brown fedora. A sickly, yellowing newspaper was tucked beneath his arm as he placed a gloved hand onto the countertop. His aura alone was sinister enough to make me want to turn and run.
Beware.
His gravelly voice sounded like his diet consisted solely of rusty nails and asphalt. I’d only heard that voice a handful of times before. And each instance made me sick to my stomach.
“Wh-why? What’s coming?”
The girl.
With no further elaboration, he turned and reclaimed his regular seat at the back of the shop.
I was shaking in my boots. Why, you might ask? Well, I told you a little white lie earlier. That thing that approached the counter is no man. He’s been coming in nearly every day for as long as anyone can remember, but that’s about all we know about him. No one knows what he is. No one knows how, or if, he died. No one even knows his name.
We call him Nona (short for no name), and the only things I’m completely certain of in regards to him are: one - that he’s benevolent towards the employees of Aftermath and its patrons. And two - that whenever he decides to speak, a terrible tragedy usually follows. There’s no denying it. Nona is a bonafide, real-deal harbinger of death.
I locked eyes with Frank, who wore the same bewildered expression that I did. His pallid features and wide eyes mirrored exactly how I felt in that moment.
“What do you think he meant by that?” Frank murmured, never breaking eye contact.
“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
“You got that right. Maybe it’d be safer to call in some backup on this one. I know Ivan’s hopping between a couple different locations after landing the regional manager gig, but he’d be here at the drop of a hat if he caught wind of this, right?”
“Yeah… Normally, I’d try to avoid getting Ivan involved, but I think this is warranted. You remember what happened last time Nona spoke,” I said, a shiver rippling down my spine.
Frank averted his gaze, the corners of his lips drooping into a frown. “I wish I could forget. That whole ordeal sent- Calla? Calla, are you okay??”
It had returned tenfold. My lower back throbbed with intense, pounding pain. It felt as if someone was hacking away at my spinal column with an ice pick. I was paralyzed. If I moved even an inch, I would be met with another agonizing shockwave of hurt searing through my system. This time was even worse than before.
Before I could even grasp what was going on, everything started to get fuzzy around the edges of my vision. I could feel myself fading, and fast. The last thing I could remember before losing consciousness was Frank’s husky voice shouting for someone to call for help. Then, my mental fortitude finally crumbled, sending me spiraling into an inky, black void.
I awoke in a hospital bed. Frank was snoozing in a chair beside a burly, hulking figure. I was so shocked that I had to do a double take.
Ivan’s chair looked comically small beneath his gargantuan frame. Those things were not made to accommodate seven-foot-tall giants like him. I honestly hadn’t expected him to show up. Commuting is a bit more of a hassle for the dead, after all. But whatever the case, Ivan’s eyes lit up upon noticing that I was awake.
“Calla, you are okay, yes? I made trip as soon as possible,” Ivan said, shuffling up to my bedside. I couldn’t help but smile. He might’ve looked intimidating, but at heart, Ivan was just a big, Russian teddy bear.
“Yeah, I think I’m fine now. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I keep getting this really strong, crippling pain out of nowhere. Thanks for coming. But… How did you get here so fast? It’s only been a few hours.”
A devious grin crept across Ivan’s face. I pursed my lips. I knew that look. “I hitch ride on top of car. Is efficient way to travel.”
My mouth fell open. Ivan’s bulky ass clinging to the roof of a speeding car going God knows how far over the legal limit? That’s something I’d pay to see.
“Uh, do you get everywhere like that?”
“Everywhere subway does not go, yes.”
I opened my mouth, ready to scold him for being reckless, but thought better of it. Ivan was already dead. It’s not like he could die again.
“Okay Evel Knievel, let’s step outside for a smoke break and let Calla grab a nurse, yeah? We want to get her back on her feet as soon as possible,” Frank intervened, appearing at the foot on my bed. Ivan’s mountainous body was so large that I hadn’t even noticed him wake up.
“Yes. You have cigarette?” Ivan asked, that mischievous grin returning to his lips.
“Yep. Got one calling your name, buddy. Calla, we’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? I’d offer to catch someone’s attention for you, but ya know. Kinda hard when no one can see us,” Frank said, ushering Ivan out the door.
“That’s very thoughtful. I should be able to manage. Don’t take too long out there,” I replied, flashing the pair of them a weak smile as they disappeared from view.
I collapsed back into my bed. Why was this happening? I was beginning to think that I had pissed off some ancient, forlorn deity, when the dots suddenly connected. How had I not realized it sooner? The person responsible for all this was… standing in the doorway?
All the color drained from my face, and my eyes grew wide as saucers. With a slight tremble in my voice, I called out to her. “Claire?”
The pale girl with jet-black hair loitering in the entryway smiled. A wicked, demented smile that I can’t erase from my nightmares. In addition, she was carrying a voodoo doll. One that looked eerily similar to me.
“Miss me yet?” Claire asked, slinking closer.
“Of course! Claire, you know that I had no other option. It was-”
“SHUT. UP,” she shouted, producing a scalpel from her pocket and holding it to the doll’s neck. It was there. I could feel the cold metal blade against my flesh. Claire wasn’t playing around.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Calla. You had your chance,” she said, playfully wisping the scalpel back and forth. I wanted to scream. It was as if tiny razor blades were dancing across my throat.
“When you kicked me to the curb, you told me that my actions had consequences. Well, so do yours,” Claire spat, leering down at me. This was it. I was convinced that I was going to die.
“Don’t worry,” she said, her enraged demeanor shifting, “I’m not going to kill you yet. No, I just wanted to fill you in on what’s to come. I’m going to stay true to my word, Calla. I’ll make you pay for what you did to me for a long, long time.”
Claire giggled, removing the blade from the doll’s throat. I gasped for air, coming to the realization that I’d been stifling my breathing. I trembled, turning to my psychotic ex-employee. She was smiling wider than ever.
“I really must be going now. It was great to see you again! Oh, and remember, I’ll be watching you,” Claire said, punctuating her statement by plunging the blade into the doll’s leg, before skipping out the door.
I shrieked in agony, desperately clutching at my throbbing calf. A couple of nurses rushed in and calmed me down, assuring me that everything would be okay. But honestly, I don’t know if it will be. Because Claire is still out there. And she knows how to hold a grudge.
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2024.05.17 22:33 HorrorJunkie123 I had to fire someone. She was NOT happy about it.
“You’re fired.”
Those two dreaded words are the last thing anyone wants to hear. As the manager of a small coffee shop, they’re the last words I ever wanted to say. But, unfortunately, I did have to say them, and the employee on the receiving end was less than pleased.
“Seriously, Calla? Robby comes in twenty minutes late every shift, and I’m the one getting canned? It’s not fair. I won’t accept that.”
“Claire, Robby has one leg. He gets a pass. You took cash from the register. That’s not something we can turn a blind eye to,” I said, crossing my arms.
Claire pursed her lips, shifting her gaze to the ground momentarily, before scowling at me once again. “It was only fifty bucks. I needed the money for rent, and I said I’d pay it back! Please, Calla. I need this job. I’ll put a hundred dollars back in the register on pay day. Just give me a second chance.”
I let out a deep sigh. She wasn’t taking this well. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Aftermath has a zero-tolerance policy for theft. Even if you were to pay it back, the big boss still wouldn’t excuse it. I would be putting my own job in jeopardy by looking the other way, and that’s just not something I can afford to do. Your actions have consequences, Claire. You brought this on yourself.”
She glanced up at me with teary eyes. Though Claire was entirely in the wrong, my heart shattered for her all the same. She was a good kid. Just a little misguided… Or so I thought.
“I won’t forget this, Calla. Mark my words, I will make you pay,” she spat, before dramatically stomping out the door.
My eyes grew wide, and my heart began to race. If any normal human being had said that, I would have blown it off entirely. But, there’s a little oddity about my job that I may have (purposely) forgotten to mention. You see, I’m a clairvoyant of sorts. I work at a coffee shop for the dead - And they tend to take things a lot more personally than the living.
A gruff-looking man with a leather jacket and ripped jeans leaned against the counter, snapping my attention away from the door. He had an unkept beard and a nasty road rash seared into his face. The shades obscuring his eyes exuded an air of confidence that he had no business possessing. Even so, his appearance didn’t intimidate me in the slightest.
“Don’t worry about her, Calla. She’s talking out her ass.”
“I appreciate the reassurance, Frank. I know she probably just needs to blow off some steam, but it always freaks me out when shit like that happens. No offense to all you dead folk, but I don’t wanna kick the bucket any time soon, ya know?”
“That’s fair. Purgatory ain’t that bad, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the land of the living. By the way, if you get a chance, can you whip me up my regular? I could use a boost.”
“Sure thing. Coming right up. Is there anything else I can get for y-” I tried my best to stop myself, but it was too late. I knew better than to ask that question to Frank.
“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning in closer.
“Don’t you say it. Frank, I swear, if you-”
“I’ll take your soul!”
I glowered at him as he roared with laughter. “Come on, Calla. Have a sense of humor!” he wheezed, tears welling in his eyes.
“Frank. You have told me that same joke every chance you get for the entire time I’ve been working here. It wasn’t funny the first time you said it, and it’s definitely not funny now. I oughta charge you double every time you tell it.”
He frowned at me, before turning to his normal booth. “Geez, would it kill ya to lighten up a bit? Buzzkill…”
As I was beginning to prepare Frank’s blonde espresso, I heard the familiar chime of the door opening. A kid with disheveled blonde hair and scratches across his face hobbled inside, leaning on a crutch.
“Hey Robby! Nice of you to show up,” I beamed, flashing him a warm smile. I glanced down at my watch. Twenty minutes late, right on the nose.
“Always gotta give me shit, huh Mrs. Calla? You try hoppin’ to work one day, then we’ll talk,” he quipped, returning a grin.
“Ya know what? Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. I do-” I froze, mid-sentence. All the color drained from my face, and I suddenly found myself unable to speak. I clutched at my side, barely able to breathe. A random, searing pain shot through my torso. I felt like I was going to pass out.
“Calla? Calla, are you okay? Say something.” Robby rushed over to me, his face contorted with worry. I weakly returned his gaze. The agony was beyond anything I had ever felt before. It was as if someone had stabbed me with a white-hot fire poker and decided to twist it a couple times for good measure. Excruciating was an understatement.
Just as my vision was starting to go fuzzy, the pain began to dissipate. I gasped for air, leaning heavily on the counter for support. What the hell was that?
“I’m all right,” I said, turning my head. Frank had joined Robby behind the counter. The pair of them both had a look of deep concern etched into their features. If I wasn’t dying, I probably would have found it endearing.
“Are you sure? You look like shit, Calla.”
That’s it. I’m definitely charging him double.
“Gee, thanks a lot, Frank. You’re such a gentleman.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, never giving any indication that he was joking. Robby and I both glared at him.
“Go sit down, Frank. You too, Mrs. Calla. You should probably take the rest of the day off. Don’t worry, I can handle the shop,” Robby said, helping me to a chair.
“You know what? I think you’re right. I could go for a nap.”
After resting for a little while longer, I went home. Robby wasn’t a professional by any means, but I trusted him to keep Aftermath running smoothly, at least until I recovered. He really was a good kid. I always thought it was such a shame that he’d died in such a tragic manner. IEDs are no joke.
I made sure to take it easy and get plenty of rest. I didn’t experience any more phantom pains for the remainder of the day, but I knew that I would need to get a good night’s sleep. With Claire gone, I’d be stuck on opening shifts for the foreseeable future. Yuck.
I was almost done running through my tasks for the morning, when it happened. A man approached the counter, his face obscured by a brown fedora. A sickly, yellowing newspaper was tucked beneath his arm as he placed a gloved hand onto the countertop. His aura alone was sinister enough to make me want to turn and run.
Beware.
His gravelly voice sounded like his diet consisted solely of rusty nails and asphalt. I’d only heard that voice a handful of times before. And each instance made me sick to my stomach.
“Wh-why? What’s coming?”
The girl.
With no further elaboration, he turned and reclaimed his regular seat at the back of the shop.
I was shaking in my boots. Why, you might ask? Well, I told you a little white lie earlier. That thing that approached the counter is no man. He’s been coming in nearly every day for as long as anyone can remember, but that’s about all we know about him. No one knows what he is. No one knows how, or if, he died. No one even knows his name.
We call him Nona (short for no name), and the only things I’m completely certain of in regard to him are: one - that he’s benevolent towards the employees of Aftermath and its patrons. And two - that whenever he decides to speak, a terrible tragedy usually follows. There’s no denying it. Nona is a bonafide, real-deal harbinger of death.
I locked eyes with Frank, who wore the same bewildered expression that I did. His pallid features and wide eyes mirrored exactly how I felt in that moment.
“What do you think he meant by that?” Frank murmured, never breaking eye contact.
“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
“You got that right. Maybe it’d be safer to call in some backup on this one. I know Ivan’s hopping between a couple different locations after landing the regional manager gig, but he’d be here at the drop of a hat if he caught wind of this, right?”
“Yeah… Normally, I’d try to avoid getting Ivan involved, but I think this is warranted. You remember what happened last time Nona spoke,” I said, a shiver rippling down my spine.
Frank averted his gaze, the corners of his lips drooping into a frown. “I wish I could forget. That whole ordeal sent- Calla? Calla, are you okay??”
It had returned tenfold. My lower back throbbed with intense, pounding pain. It felt as if someone was hacking away at my spinal column with an ice pick. I was paralyzed. If I moved even an inch, I would be met with another agonizing shockwave of hurt searing through my system. This time was even worse than before.
Before I could even grasp what was going on, everything started to get fuzzy around the edges of my vision. I could feel myself fading, and fast. The last thing I could remember before losing consciousness was Frank’s husky voice shouting for someone to call for help. Then, my mental fortitude finally crumbled, sending me spiraling into an inky, black void.
I awoke in a hospital bed. Frank was snoozing in a chair beside a burly, hulking figure. I was so shocked that I had to do a double take.
Ivan’s chair looked comically small beneath his gargantuan frame. Those things were not made to accommodate seven-foot-tall giants like him. I honestly hadn’t expected him to show up. Commuting is a bit more of a hassle for the dead, after all. But whatever the case, Ivan’s eyes lit up upon noticing that I was awake.
“Calla, you are okay, yes? I made trip as soon as possible,” Ivan said, shuffling up to my bedside. I couldn’t help but smile. He might’ve looked intimidating, but at heart, Ivan was just a big, Russian teddy bear.
“Yeah, I think I’m fine now. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I keep getting this really strong, crippling pain out of nowhere. Thanks for coming. But… How did you get here so fast? It’s only been a few hours.”
A devious grin crept across Ivan’s face. I pursed my lips. I knew that look. “I hitch ride on top of car. Is efficient way to travel.”
My mouth fell open. Ivan’s bulky ass clinging to the roof of a speeding car going God knows how far over the legal limit? That’s something I’d pay to see.
“Uh, do you get everywhere like that?”
“Everywhere subway does not go, yes.”
I opened my mouth, ready to scold him for being reckless, but thought better of it. Ivan was already dead. It’s not like he could die again.
“Okay Evel Knievel, let’s step outside for a smoke break and let Calla grab a nurse, yeah? We want to get her back on her feet as soon as possible,” Frank intervened, appearing at the foot on my bed. Ivan’s mountainous body was so large that I hadn’t even noticed him wake up.
“Yes. You have cigarette?” Ivan asked, that mischievous grin returning to his lips.
“Yep. Got one calling your name, buddy. Calla, we’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? I’d offer to catch someone’s attention for you, but ya know. Kinda hard when no one can see us,” Frank said, ushering Ivan out the door.
“That’s very thoughtful. I should be able to manage. Don’t take too long out there,” I replied, flashing the pair of them a weak smile as they disappeared from view.
I collapsed back into my bed. Why was this happening? I was beginning to think that I had pissed off some ancient, forlorn deity, when the dots suddenly connected. How had I not realized it sooner? The person responsible for all this was… standing in the doorway?
All the color drained from my face, and my eyes grew wide as saucers. With a slight tremble in my voice, I called out to her. “Claire?”
The pale girl with jet-black hair loitering in the entryway smiled. A wicked, demented smile that I can’t erase from my nightmares. In addition, she was carrying a voodoo doll. One that looked eerily similar to me.
“Miss me yet?” Claire asked, slinking closer.
“Of course! Claire, you know that I had no other option. It was-”
“SHUT. UP,” she shouted, producing a scalpel from her pocket and holding it to the doll’s neck. It was there. I could feel the cold metal blade against my flesh. Claire wasn’t playing around.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Calla. You had your chance,” she said, playfully wisping the scalpel back and forth. I wanted to scream. It was as if tiny razor blades were dancing across my throat.
“When you kicked me to the curb, you told me that my actions had consequences. Well, so do yours,” Claire spat, leering down at me. This was it. I was convinced that I was going to die.
“Don’t worry,” she said, her enraged demeanor shifting, “I’m not going to kill you yet. No, I just wanted to fill you in on what’s to come. I’m going to stay true to my word, Calla. I’ll make you pay for what you did to me for a long, long time.”
Claire giggled, removing the blade from the doll’s throat. I gasped for air, coming to the realization that I’d been stifling my breathing. I trembled, turning to my psychotic ex-employee. She was smiling wider than ever.
“I really must be going now. It was great to see you again! Oh, and remember, I’ll be watching you,” Claire said, punctuating her statement by plunging the blade into the doll’s leg, before skipping out the door.
I shrieked in agony, desperately clutching at my throbbing calf. A couple of nurses rushed in and calmed me down, assuring me that everything would be okay. But honestly, I don’t know if it will be. Because Claire is still out there. And she knows how to hold
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2024.05.17 02:22 WrongBread883 AITAH for not buying whole wheat bread?
I (25F) have lived with my two roommates Liss (26F) and Claire (25F) for the last 3 years, I wouldn't say we are friends, but we are friendly. During this time we developed a system to share expenses for part of the food (sugar, coffee, bread, etc.), we usually make a list of what we run out of and on Friday I buy everything when I get back from work since the cheapest store is in my route We never had a "preferred brand" of anything and I went with whatever was on sale.
A couple of months ago, Claire's girlfriend Anne moved in with us. I don't know her very well, but she seemed nice. Except last Friday, when I came in with groceries like I always do, she saw that I had bought store brand white sandwich bread. She took it to Claire and yelled at her "see? This bitch keeps buying the bread I can't eat." I was really surprised that they insulted me over bread? So I asked her what her problem was and she said something like, "Don't play nice with me, you know I need whole wheat bread, I need fiber. But you keep buying this crap anyway and charging us for it." I told her I had no idea she needed the fiber and that I was just buying what I always did, but if she wanted a special bread she could have told me or better yet, bought it herself. Then Claire said that I never asks what anyone wants and I just assume that we're all okay with whatever is cheap, and that now she realizes how inconsiderate I am.
Now they say that from now on they will buy their own things and that I better not dare touch their food.
Liss wasn't home when all of this happened, but when I told her, she said that while she didn't mind buying the store brand and cheaper options, it was kind of an AH decision on my part to assume rather than ask. Now I feel really guilty, I really thought we had a good system. My boyfriend said I wasn't the AH because I had the best intentions and they could have said something sooner. But I'm not so sure anymore.
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2024.05.17 01:29 Research-nomAd Is the act of emotional cheating redeemable?
My beautiful ex broke up with me last Sunday because I violated a very important boundary of her to not flirt with a girl that I had a flirty past with before we were officially together. I am devastated but feel so guilty and shameful for hurting her I started therapy today to deal with this while also trying to heal, but the guilt is also so heavy
Long story ahead
She found this out by logging into my Instagram on my iPad.
I was busy with a lot of things on my trip to visit my family in India, and wasn’t able to give her much updates or attention due to the time difference between India and US. I would text her, share a lot of pictures from my day when I could and sometimes Facetime her
I truly had no sexual intentions with this girl, literally zero, I was trying to buy some w**d from her as she had contacts, and due to our schedules the plans fell through
She then invited me to her place before my trip ended to which my dumbass said “Well that’s just dangerous 😏” She replied, I’m not alone, and I just 👍🏽 her reply, end of conversation
I 100% intended to show this convo to her once I got back to US
When she found out about this, she didn’t confront me directly, but was asking about my stance on if flirting is cheating and I agreed if the intentions were sexual.
She kept on asking if I did anything wrong or something for which she would be reacting like this, even asked if it was about Instagram DMs, but she still was being vague about the confrontation. She said she was heartbroken because I didn’t answer her straight and made her think like I didn’t do anything wrong
Once she confronted me like this, I immediately got defensive and felt ashamed to be seen like this, went back and forth and asked her more details, which she didn’t say much about
On our facetime call, she asked me to explain and I did twist the facts by saying I turned that girl down when she invited me over(still feeling shame), after which she read out the messages and was more pissed and hurt about it
She shared all of this with her family(sister and brother in law)
She said she is breaking up with me, I apologized a lot and convinced her not to break up and give this another shot and I said I’ll be more honest and transparent about anything and accepted the fact that she won’t be that affectionate and will need time, I agreed
For two weeks, she wasn’t texting that much, and was just replying to my texts, I thought this was her less affectionate self & she’s taking time to let her emotions settle
But then I found out that she created a Tinder account the same day when she found out about it, signed for sex chat rooms and shared nudes there, some of which she forwarded me also, and some of which she took at my apartment
I was very hurt and felt betrayed but was also guilty that I also was not fully loyal because of that message sent her
I asked her to tell me about what all she did and after long facetime calls, agreed to work on being honest with each other and came to a compromise
From here Our conversations after this got very wild and she also wanted us to play with another girl, which I agreed to after confirming with her multiple times. We also talked about going on dates and I bought tickets to an event
While all this was happening, in parallel her family and her were also talking about breaking up with me, over exxagerated many facts about me, and she agreed and didn’t defend and made it seem like she was trying to break up with me but was finding it difficult to do so and stayed at my place too, because she was missing me and was also taking care of my cat. I found out about this after I came back and she was showing only a few messages from the converdation with her family, more on this later
I missed my flight that night and got another flight early next morning. While I was at the hotel, The night before reaching my place, she said she feels a little emotionally detached from me and has mixed feelings about what had happened and what also was in the mix of this was, there was some miscommunication between her sister me and my ex during Christmas and that was still unresolved and they thought I was manipulated and gaslighting, which wasn’t even the case
We talked about her feelings, clarified about the miscommunicTion and assured her that I will talk to her family and sort this out
Its Tuesday morning, she picked me up from the airport, had a small welcome gift and hand written message set up on my coffee table, which I loved
We went out on a dinner date in the middle of the week, were spending time with each other, this is when I found out about her conversation with her family and I confronted her about it asking why she was lying to them about our break up. She said she also had facetime calls with them and she probably told them that she didnt break up with me. I told her to be honest about the situation with her family, to which she sent out a big Message to her family saying she lied to them and she broke their trust and made it sound like I was a saint and everything was her fault
Mind you her family was still asking when she is going break up with me
I spoke to their family to clear up the previous miscommunicationsand also briefly spoke about the disconnect between our texts and their texts. Her sister said she will talk to my ex one on one about this. We woke up next morning, she spoke to her sister while I was getting ready to o head out. I sat down with her to talk about their discussion, she said they went all the way back and verified what she lied about, and then she dropped it on me that she wants to break up, she doesnt want to go through the emotional pain again and wont be able to trust me
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2024.05.16 16:58 East_Alternative_538 Best Porn Subs 2024
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2024.05.16 15:31 Right_Trick_5848 [H] 60-70% Most Payments [W] Amazon GC UK/DE/FR/ES Razer Gold UK/GBP: Most UK Gift Cards e.g ASDA, Argos, Tesco, Currys, John Lewis etc ...
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Amazon DE Germany, FR France, ES Spain @ 60%
Razergold Global/USA @ 65%
Steam: Any currency @ 60%
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Star.bucks: Any currency @ 50%
Rates are for paypal G&S, if paypal F&F then 5% less, if anything else then 10% less.
If no proof of source of gift card or low value then 5% less
My confirmed trades pinned in my profile (plus GCX registered "Experienced trader")
can pay by transferwise, paypal, skrill, revolut, most crypto listed on binance, ethereum eth, litecoin ltc, bitcoin btc.
gift codes one 4 all tk maxx
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2024.05.16 15:31 Right_Trick_5848 [H] 60-70% Most Payments [W] Amazon GC UK/DE/FR/ES Steam Wallet: Any UK/GBP: Most Gift Cards e.g ASDA, Argos, Tesco, Currys, John Lewis etc ...
***My Impersonators (DO NOT TRADE WITH): Right-Trick-5848, righttick_5848 Note the misspellings, note the dash "-" instead of the underscore "_", always verify it is me in PMs
Amazon DE Germany, FR France, ES Spain @ 60%
Razergold Global/USA @ 65%
Steam: Any currency @ 60%
UK: Amazon, Asda, Currys, Argos, Tesco, Sainsburys, Morrisons, John Lewis, Love2Shop, One4all, Justeat, Wickes, Ikea, Screwfix, Deliveroo, Ubereats, Cex, Uber, Game, TKMaxx, Whsmiths, M&S, Marks and Spencer etc @ 60-70%
UK other cards but at lower rates: ASOS,Accessorize,Adidas,Aer Lingus,Airbnb,Allsaints,American Golf,Apple Itunes,Ask Italian,B&Q,Beaverbooks,Bella Italia,Bonus Bonds,Boohoo,Boots,Boux Avenue,Bunnings,Burberry,Cafe Rouge,Caffe Nero,Claires,Clarks,Coast,Compliment Vouchers,Compliments Experience Days,Coop,Costa Coffee,Dining Out,EE,Ernest Jones,Espa,Everyman Cinema,Experience Days,Fat Face,Flannels,Foot Locker,Fortnum & Mason,Frankies & Bennys,Gap,Giffgaff,Goldsmiths,Google Play,H&M,H.Samuel,HMV,Halfords,Harrods,Harvey Nichols,Hollister,Hotel Chocolat,House of Fraser,Jack Wills,Jd Sports,Karen Millen,LMG Jewellery,Lakeland,Lasiguanas,Leisure Vouchers,Liberty,Mamas & Papas,Mango,Matalan,Michael Cors,Miller & Carter,Monsoon,Moss Bros,Nandos,National Book Tokens,National Rail,Netflix,New Look,Next,Nike,Nintendo,Now TV,O2,Odeon,Pandora,Paul Smith,Pets at home,Pizza Express,Pizza Hut,Play Store,Playstation PSN,Prezzo,Primark,Quiz Clothing,Red Letter Days,Restaurant Choice,River Island,Selfridges,Signet Connect,Spafinder,Sports Direct,Spotify,Sunglass Hut,Superdry,Swarovski,Sweaty Betty,Ted Baker,The Body Shop,The Jockey Club,The Range,The White Company,Theatre Tokens,Thomas Pink,Three,Ticketmaster,Trailfinders,Tui,Turtle Bay,UGG Australia,Victoria Secret,Virgin,Virgin Experience Days,Vue Cinema,Waterstones,Wh Smith,WhSmith,Xbox Microsoft,Zara
Star.bucks: Any currency @ 50%
Rates are for paypal G&S, if paypal F&F then 5% less, if anything else then 10% less.
If no proof of source of gift card or low value then 5% less
My confirmed trades pinned in my profile (plus GCX registered "Experienced trader")
can pay by transferwise, paypal, skrill, revolut, most crypto listed on binance, ethereum eth, litecoin ltc, bitcoin btc.
gift codes one 4 all tk maxx
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2024.05.16 00:10 Maleficent-Music3354 Watch out from reddit hookups!
I have been talking to this guy that I met on reddit for over 3 years now, we started talking normally on reddit then we shared snaps and then he suggested we meet up. I met up with him 4 times each of them were pretty decent and fun and nothing sketchy at all. We were more like friends and he never mentioned anything about sex (note that I met him through a sex based sub on reddit). After our 4th hangout he started getting flirty, and ngl I developed some feelings for this guy since he seemed like the most normal dude I met on reddit, so I started getting flirty back. We exchanged some nudes sometimes we called for hours and it seemed like we were e-dating. Last week while I was on a call with him he mentioned how we should hangout again, which seemed normal since we already did 4 times before. So today as usual we went out for lunch we had some coffee and it was all good. Near the end of the day (literally like 2 hours ago) he offered me a ride back home, so me fully trusting him I got into his car. While on our way he started yapping about he’s so down to get his dick sucked and all that and I was just listening as he then suddenly grabbed my hand and cussed at me and told me to start jerking him off. I rejected but then he slapped me so hard and stopped the car and told me to get out. As I got out he started cussing at me and called me and my family slur words. It’s just I don’t think I’ll be able to find any true relationship in this country. I have literally talked to this guy for 3 years, there is no way he waited 3 years to do this to me. Please guys take care of yourselves and don’t even trust anyone over here.
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2024.05.15 20:13 Weathers_Writing I think God might be real, just not in the way you think
When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
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2024.05.15 20:09 Weathers_Writing I think God might be real, just not in the way you think
When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
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2024.05.15 19:37 ZehirConjure Virtual or IRL Co-Working and Coffee Buddies
I'm looking for other platonic male nudists in the metro NYC area for once, twice, or three times a week daytime co-working and coffee.
Ideal age is mid-30s to early 40s, although I'm open to younger and slightly older would work.
Bring your laptop, sack lunch, and a find a comfortable seat on the sofa or the extra desk in the living room, and let's pass the time two or three days a week.
Send a Reddit Chat request to discuss and check for personality compatibility. I don't want or need your nude pictures.
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2024.05.15 10:38 Rojn8r Upgraded Conical Stylus on my Rega P1 to an Elliptical stylus
| The final piece on my quest to get the most From my budget rear P1 turntable arrived today. I upgraded the conical stylus on my Rega carbon cartridge to the LP gear nude Fidelity elliptical stylus. After a brief moment of concern when the cartridge almost bottomed out on a record, I grabbed my coffee scale and adjusted the tone arm tracking to 2 grams. It sounds fantastic and I’ve already had a couple of “I haven’t noticed that detail before” moments and it should only get better as it wears in. Maybe it’s a bit placebo, maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s Maybelline but I’m very happy with the sound from my humble P1. I just wanted to share in case anyone else was considering the upgrade and wondering what it was like or if it was worth it. For a little context, I purchased the Rega System One at a fantastic price last year which means any dollars spent on small upgrades still lands well below what it would cost for the next model up. I have also upgraded the platter to the glass P2 platter to improve the flywheel consistency. submitted by Rojn8r to turntables [link] [comments] |
2024.05.15 01:44 SpookyKat31 White Whale Slime Collection Review
| White Whale Slime collection White Whale Slime is one of my favorite small shops and this is my review for each slime in my collection. This shop is run by a single person, Chrissy. She sells 6 oz slimes for $12.50 each, which I think it incredibly affordable. She also offers a 10% off code for restock day or you can use the code NOEXTRAS10 any time to exclude borax and candy from your order (which is what I do). Every slime is made to order, meaning she does not pre-make slimes before her restock. The shop will be open for a couple of weeks for people to place orders, then the shop closes and she focuses on making, jarring, and shipping the orders. I have placed several orders and they have arrived anywhere between 13-29 days after ordering. Her slimes have a very artsy aesthetic with some of the BEST scents – very complex but subtle, and usually very accurate as described. She restocks a wide variety of slimes each month so there’s plenty of options to choose from. In my experience, she is very responsive to messages about orders and provides excellent customer service. I highly recommend this shop! Raindrop Cream Raindrop Cream is a layered slime that includes a bottom layer of cloud, a middle layer of thick and glossy, and a top layer of clay. Amidst the cloud layer are glitter and cloud fimos. My first order was long before I ever joined the subreddit, so I regrettably did not take pictures of this gorgeous slime before mixing! However, you can see marketing photos on her website of every slime in her catalog. The marbled clay designs are very beautiful. It was really fun to mix these textures together to create what I would consider a cloud crème. The final mix is soft and dense, and I can feel the snow granules. There’s a small bit of snow residue that is left on my hands and play surface, but it’s very minimal and is picked up easily with the slime. The scent is rain and pear, and it is a fresh and floral scent. It is not perfumey or overwhelming at all. In fact, I wish the scent was stronger because I love it so much. Goat Milk Lotion Goat Milk Lotion is another layered slime I got in my first order. Similarly, I didn’t get a photo before mixing. This slime includes a bottom layer of cloud, a middle layer of milky clear, and a top layer of clay. Even though the middle layer was different, the final texture feels the same as Raindrop Cream and is very holdable. The scent for this slime is floral milk and amber. It is another lovely, soft floral slime that I just can’t get enough of! Nudes Nudes is a layered slime with a thick and glossy base and a marbled clay top layer. Again, I unfortunately didn’t get a photo before mixing but I recommend looking on her website! Once mixed, this becomes a creamy slay texture. I notice that each time I take it out to play, there is a wet residue and it needs some activator, but it comes back together very easily. The scent is vanilla musk and cake. It smells so dark and heavenly, like a perfume I'd like. Belladonna Nougat Belladonna Nougat is one of Chrissy’s signature nougat textures. This texture is thicker, chubbier, and chewier than her slay textures, but it is not what I would call a butter slime. It is not clay heavy. I really enjoy it! The scent is moonflower nectar and marshmallow, which is fruity and floral. The scent is very pleasant and not overpowering. Bonfire Marshmallow Bonfire Marshmallow is a cloud butter with gray and black swirls. The texture feels similar to the cloud crème texture of Raindrop Cream and Goat Milk Lotion, though this one may be a bit creamier. The scent is woodfire and marshmallow. It smells like a comforting campfire with a hint of sweetness. It reminds me of an Autumn candle I’ve had before (maybe BBW Marshmallow Fireside?), and I absolutely love it! Painted Lady Painted Lady is a light blue thick and glossy slime with a bright, multicolored clay topper. Once mixed, the slime becomes a mauve, creamy slay texture. The scent is rose milk and cherries. I mostly smell fresh, sweet cherries but not much rose. The scent is not overly sweet and doesn’t smell like cherry medicine in the slightest. Buttercup Nougat Buttercup Nougat is a bright yellow nougat slime with a little bit of clear slime on the bottom and cute little bunny fimos (I think the other fimos are bees). The clear slime doesn’t seem to change the texture, which is soft, creamy, and chubby just like Belladonna Nougat. The scent is yuzu, lemon curd and custard. It smells like a sweet and tart dessert. Proust's Madeleine Proust’s Madeleine is a muted yellow cloud butter scented like lemon almond cake. The texture feels like Bonfire Marshmallow – a creamier version of the cloud crème. The scent is smells just like lemon cake and the accuracy makes me wish I had some to eat! Affogato Affogato is a creamy slay slime that actually looks like a latte with light brown and white swirls. The sent is coffee ice cream and this is another incredibly accurate scent! I honestly think this may be the best coffee scented slime I’ve ever gotten (and I’ve had 4 others). Chai Cream Puff Chai Cream Puff is a creamy slay slime with a marbled appearance with light brown, white, and lilac colors. There is also a bottom layer of lilac cloud slime. The final mixture is a taupe snow slay. Unlike the other snow/cloud slimes in this collection, I don’t feel the snow granules in this mixed texture. The scent is chai and this is yet another incredibly accurate and delicious scent. It reminds me of Autumn and makes me crave chai tea! Library Rose Library Rose Library Rose is a gorgeous, layered slime that consists of a pale pink, thick and glossy base and a blue, black, and white marbled clay topper. After mixing, it turns into a blue-gray slay slime. This texture is thicker and chubbier than the other slay slimes from my collection, but it may be that this one is just more activated than the others. The scent smells just like books and a light rose perfume. The rose fragrance really brings it all together for me and is strangely nostalgic. It’s a very unique scent. I hope you’ve enjoyed this review and I encourage everyone to check out White Whale Slime! submitted by SpookyKat31 to Slime [link] [comments] |
2024.05.14 23:22 Right_Trick_5848 [H] 60-70% Most Payments [W] Amazon GC UK/DE/FR/ES Razer Gold UK/GBP: Most UK Gift Cards e.g ASDA, Argos, Tesco, Currys, John Lewis etc ...
***My Impersonators (DO NOT TRADE WITH): Right-Trick-5848, righttick_5848 Note the misspellings, note the dash "-" instead of the underscore "_", always verify it is me in PMs
Amazon DE Germany, FR France, ES Spain @ 60%
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UK: Amazon, Asda, Currys, Argos, Tesco, Sainsburys, Morrisons, John Lewis, Love2Shop, One4all, Justeat, Wickes, Ikea, Screwfix, Deliveroo, Ubereats, Cex, Uber, Game, TKMaxx, Whsmiths, M&S, Marks and Spencer etc @ 60-70%
UK other cards but at lower rates: ASOS,Accessorize,Adidas,Aer Lingus,Airbnb,Allsaints,American Golf,Apple Itunes,Ask Italian,B&Q,Beaverbooks,Bella Italia,Bonus Bonds,Boohoo,Boots,Boux Avenue,Bunnings,Burberry,Cafe Rouge,Caffe Nero,Claires,Clarks,Coast,Compliment Vouchers,Compliments Experience Days,Coop,Costa Coffee,Dining Out,EE,Ernest Jones,Espa,Everyman Cinema,Experience Days,Fat Face,Flannels,Foot Locker,Fortnum & Mason,Frankies & Bennys,Gap,Giffgaff,Goldsmiths,Google Play,H&M,H.Samuel,HMV,Halfords,Harrods,Harvey Nichols,Hollister,Hotel Chocolat,House of Fraser,Jack Wills,Jd Sports,Karen Millen,LMG Jewellery,Lakeland,Lasiguanas,Leisure Vouchers,Liberty,Mamas & Papas,Mango,Matalan,Michael Cors,Miller & Carter,Monsoon,Moss Bros,Nandos,National Book Tokens,National Rail,Netflix,New Look,Next,Nike,Nintendo,Now TV,O2,Odeon,Pandora,Paul Smith,Pets at home,Pizza Express,Pizza Hut,Play Store,Playstation PSN,Prezzo,Primark,Quiz Clothing,Red Letter Days,Restaurant Choice,River Island,Selfridges,Signet Connect,Spafinder,Sports Direct,Spotify,Sunglass Hut,Superdry,Swarovski,Sweaty Betty,Ted Baker,The Body Shop,The Jockey Club,The Range,The White Company,Theatre Tokens,Thomas Pink,Three,Ticketmaster,Trailfinders,Tui,Turtle Bay,UGG Australia,Victoria Secret,Virgin,Virgin Experience Days,Vue Cinema,Waterstones,Wh Smith,WhSmith,Xbox Microsoft,Zara
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My confirmed trades pinned in my profile (plus GCX registered "Experienced trader")
can pay by transferwise, paypal, skrill, revolut, most crypto listed on binance, ethereum eth, litecoin ltc, bitcoin btc.
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2024.05.14 23:21 Right_Trick_5848 [H] 60-70% Most Payments [W] Amazon GC UK/DE/FR/ES Steam Wallet: Any UK/GBP: Most Gift Cards e.g ASDA, Argos, Tesco, Currys, John Lewis etc ...
***My Impersonators (DO NOT TRADE WITH): Right-Trick-5848, righttick_5848 Note the misspellings, note the dash "-" instead of the underscore "_", always verify it is me in PMs
Amazon DE Germany, FR France, ES Spain @ 60%
Razergold Global/USA @ 65%
Steam: Any currency @ 60%
UK: Amazon, Asda, Currys, Argos, Tesco, Sainsburys, Morrisons, John Lewis, Love2Shop, One4all, Justeat, Wickes, Ikea, Screwfix, Deliveroo, Ubereats, Cex, Uber, Game, TKMaxx, Whsmiths, M&S, Marks and Spencer etc @ 60-70%
UK other cards but at lower rates: ASOS,Accessorize,Adidas,Aer Lingus,Airbnb,Allsaints,American Golf,Apple Itunes,Ask Italian,B&Q,Beaverbooks,Bella Italia,Bonus Bonds,Boohoo,Boots,Boux Avenue,Bunnings,Burberry,Cafe Rouge,Caffe Nero,Claires,Clarks,Coast,Compliment Vouchers,Compliments Experience Days,Coop,Costa Coffee,Dining Out,EE,Ernest Jones,Espa,Everyman Cinema,Experience Days,Fat Face,Flannels,Foot Locker,Fortnum & Mason,Frankies & Bennys,Gap,Giffgaff,Goldsmiths,Google Play,H&M,H.Samuel,HMV,Halfords,Harrods,Harvey Nichols,Hollister,Hotel Chocolat,House of Fraser,Jack Wills,Jd Sports,Karen Millen,LMG Jewellery,Lakeland,Lasiguanas,Leisure Vouchers,Liberty,Mamas & Papas,Mango,Matalan,Michael Cors,Miller & Carter,Monsoon,Moss Bros,Nandos,National Book Tokens,National Rail,Netflix,New Look,Next,Nike,Nintendo,Now TV,O2,Odeon,Pandora,Paul Smith,Pets at home,Pizza Express,Pizza Hut,Play Store,Playstation PSN,Prezzo,Primark,Quiz Clothing,Red Letter Days,Restaurant Choice,River Island,Selfridges,Signet Connect,Spafinder,Sports Direct,Spotify,Sunglass Hut,Superdry,Swarovski,Sweaty Betty,Ted Baker,The Body Shop,The Jockey Club,The Range,The White Company,Theatre Tokens,Thomas Pink,Three,Ticketmaster,Trailfinders,Tui,Turtle Bay,UGG Australia,Victoria Secret,Virgin,Virgin Experience Days,Vue Cinema,Waterstones,Wh Smith,WhSmith,Xbox Microsoft,Zara
Star.bucks: Any currency @ 50%
Rates are for paypal G&S, if paypal F&F then 5% less, if anything else then 10% less.
If no proof of source of gift card or low value then 5% less
My confirmed trades pinned in my profile (plus GCX registered "Experienced trader")
can pay by transferwise, paypal, skrill, revolut, most crypto listed on binance, ethereum eth, litecoin ltc, bitcoin btc.
gift codes one 4 all tk maxx
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2024.05.14 20:28 SmallHelicopter4714 TikTok · claire allen hi i sell nudes of her , come in my dms
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