I heard this song twice on a local public radio station in my area. They play a lot of obscure songs. The lyrics are unique, but a little creepy outside of the context of the song:
“Honey I’ve loved you since you were in pigtails, since you believed in Santa Claus.”
The song is about two people who grow up together and how the guy has always loved the girl, but she never gives him a chance. He sings about how he may not be the love she wants, but he’s the love she needs. I’ve searched the lyrics and gotten nothing. I checked the station’s website in their song logs,but for some reason the station didn’t list it like it normally does. There’s a gap where the song should have been listed. It sounded like something the Four Tops would sing.

Well, I’ve played the first two Suikoden, love them, so I waited for Eiyuden Chronicle. I’ve just finished the game with all recruits and It was a great experience.
So here the things I like in this game :
-The castle : Ho god, I love the lens freaking sh*t of this feature ! In fact, that’s the main reason why I love so much Suikoden franchise. Starting with ruins, bringing people, rebuild the castle, seeing life coming back, adding new things,… Argh, it’s so exhilarating ! I don’t know why this feature isn’t more popular in gaming.
-The music : I’m suprised there’s a lot of music I enjoy (except those with violins). I’ve a weak spot for the normal battle theme and Yarnaan
-The human scaled story : It’s good to focus the plot on a human scale than a worldwide epic story with gods and apocalyptic issues.
-The gorgeous graphics : Very good looking, with welcoming deep blur effect. The character sprites fit well in its.
-The party customization : Finally, I can make my dream team (here) without having to bring deadweights or characters I don’t want.
-The Suikoden aura : Well, what else can I say ? This game captures what made Suikoden. The personality of every characters, the minigames, the gameplay, the «aura» of a glorious past. And, to be honest, I had some melocanlic moments by playing this game because of the passing of its creator (especially the fact he won’t see its release and its potential future)
...but as nothing is perfect, there is some elements I don’t like :
-The enemy "art": Except human characters and 3D models, most of ennemies look so « off » of the game art with their ugly « paper puppet » animation and their « overdetailed » apparences. Why aren’t they made of sprites ?
-The juvenile ambience : I know Suikoden is more a lighthearted franchise and I don’t want It turns like Warhammer 40K, but, compared of Suikoden 1 and 2, I think the game lacks of what means « war » with all of its tragedies, compromises, sacrifices, different level of grey morality,...
-The bad translation : Well, I think I don’t need to come back to that...
-The underwhelming magic and skills : Maybe I don’t remember well how magic and skills were in Suikoden 1 and 2, but here, they feels disapointing with their lack of damage and their huge costs. Maybe they’ll be a little more viable in future patchs or games ?
-The beigoma minigames : I don’t know whose idea it was and who accepted to put it in the game but they can kiss my *** ! Ho my god, that was horrible! By writing those lines, I discovered beigomas are a real historical thing, but between the "Beyblade spirit" with kids screaming for spinning tops (added with the quoted juvenile ambience), the smashing button gameplay, and the obligation to do so for recruiting an annoying character coming from a Beyblade episode, that was a painful experience for me !
-The "anime" direction : Yes, It sounds weird, It’s a JRPG franchise, so what’s the problem ? Well, with years, I realize I can stand less and less with this "anime" artstyle, especially with charac design. I know in pasted games, they had theirs "silly" oand "cute" characters but I feel they fit a bit more with their environment. However with Eiyuden, I find many of them fit more to a current crappy anime like the pink coat thug, the luchador, those Beyblade characters with Pokemon hairs, the girl golem (why doesn’t it look more like a golem?), the Yugioh card player, the necromancer girl, those cursed magical girls (urgh…), the black knight with pink pigtails (WHY?), the hero sister,… Honestly, of the three main heroes, I prefer Marisa for her design and her character.
I’m scared this franchise artstyle will turns like Shining Force franchise, into a generic isekai-ish waifu-husbando generator (a video about Shining force evolution)
But overall, It was a great game. I’ll surely make an other run in hard difficulty (some restriction options look hardcore!).

its been a while-
like a month
BUT HERES THE FIRST CHAPTER UEUEUUYEYYY
also tiffany x lisa stuff
Lisa squinted as the summer sun filled her eyes, closing her car door with a dull thud. At John’s invitation, she had come to check on the orphanage he had recently started(“Took a while, but it’s complete! Drop by anytime!”). He had mentioned the windows being coated with colorful plastic shapes and drawings that the children pasted on themselves. It must be pretty lively in there, she mused.
Yawning, she pinpointed its location immediately- its cheerful yellow walls stuck out like a sore thumb against the landscape, vividly contrasting the dreary gray of the neighborhood.
Lisa drew closer and knocked on the door thrice. There was the sound of children sprinting and shouting, followed by the door opening the tiniest bit and allowing her to view a sliver of the young face that answered. She frowned slightly, then plastered on a smile and squatted to meet the child’s eyes. “Hey there, do you know where John might be?”
The boy then gave her a suspicious look and clutched at his cross necklace. “Mommy said we shouldn’t open the door for strangers.” He paused. “Why are you looking for him?”
“My name’s Lisa,” She said, stifling a laugh. “Did, uh- Mommy ever mention me? He invited me here.”
His expression brightened at her name, but the door didn’t budge an inch as he continued to inspect her face. “...How do I know you’re the REAL Lisa?” The boy said, shooting her an accusing glare.
Before she could think of an answer, she heard another heavier pair of footsteps approaching, and the door suddenly opened wider to reveal a wrinkled face she recognized. “Father Garcia?” Lisa straightened up and shook his hand, noticing he was wearing a flowery pink apron. It clashes horribly with his outfit. “It’s good to see you! What are you doing here? Did John call you here as well?”
“Buenos dias, hija,” Father Garcia greeted her, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You can go back in now, hijo.” He said.
“Can I have a sweet?” The boy asked.
“You already had a lot today, no?” When he wilted, the older man chuckled. “Perhaps tomorrow, hijo.”
The boy ran back into the house, leaving room for Lisa to step into the building. Father Garcia moved toward what looked like the living room. “John’s out getting groceries, so I’m looking after the children. You can stay with us while you wait.”
Lisa obliged, stepping inside and closing the door with a faint click behind her. The building was modest, and the old furniture looked slightly worn down, yet the mood was unexpectedly warm and welcoming. Children were playing with toys, many of which she recognized from John’s younger years: the orange and gray toy truck, multicolored building blocks, and small figures made of plastic. The kids puppeted the yellow and red figures to make the tiny people fight over what seemed like a pink hostage, the battle being animated dramatically by the kids’ onomatopoeia.
“Make yourself at home,” Father Garcia grunted, tugging off the apron and hanging it on a row of hooks along the wall. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
Sitting down at the table, she soaked in the homely vibe the orphanage put out. It was warm and welcoming, even with the awkwardness of the children staring at the stranger. I’m guessing John never showed them what I looked like. The kids kept staring as she glanced around in a fruitless attempt to avoid attention.
After a few minutes, Father Garcia returned with two steaming mugs, a small jar, and two wooden spoons on an off-white tray.
“Sugar?” He asked. She shook her head and he shrugged, putting a few spoonfuls into his #1 Dad mug and stirring it lightly.
Lisa beamed. “You seem to be doing well,” she said. “This place is unrecognizable from the rat-infested dump it used to be.”
“You have no idea, hija.” He chuckled and took a sip. “John put everything he had into this little house, you’d think it was a treasure trove full of gold.”
Looks like his sentimentality got the better of him, Lisa thought, drinking from her mug as well. An unpleasant memory drifted into her thoughts, one of her and John growing up in an orphanage where Sister Bell had cared for them. The nun had hidden her true intentions skillfully, so it came as a nasty shock to the staff when the kids were led like lambs to the slaughter into the cornfield surrounding the church.
Lisa and John were the only ones who survived, albeit cursed with the vivid memory of it all. She felt a chill run up her spine, and she took another drink from her cup in an attempt to combat the cold. I’m sure he doesn’t want anyone to go through what we did ever again… and neither do I.
Father Garcia checked his watch. “He should be back by now,” he muttered.
At that moment there was the sound of footsteps joined by the jingling of keys, and the door opened to reveal a black-haired figure weighed down by several paper bags of groceries. Lisa tried to greet him but was quickly cut off by the stampede of children rushing towards the door, all of them ecstatic about the return of their ‘mother’.
“Mom! You’re back!”
“I’m hungry! What’s for dinner?”
“Did you buy any snacks? Vienna stole mine!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
John laughed and began weaving his way through the crowd of kids into the kitchen. Putting down the bags and washing his hands, he tried to soothe the mass of hungry kids. “Now, now, let’s all calm down, I’m not your moth- whoa!”
A boy Lisa recognized as the one who tried to interrogate her managed to jump into his arms, and he spun him around a few times before gently putting him down. “You promised we could call you that until you found us one!” The child chirped. “Adults have to keep their promises!”
“Welcome back, hijo.” Father Garcia said, smiling. “I have some errands I need to run, so I’ll be off.”
They shook hands, and the old priest closed the door behind him.
“John!”
He looked up. Upon seeing who it was, his face lit up in a grin. “Lisa!” John waded quickly through the crowd and they caught each other in a hug, laughing.
“This is quite the crowd you have here,” Lisa remarked. Then in what she thought was a whisper, “Quick question, why do they call you Mom? You don’t look particularly girlish.”
“Oh, that?” A girl from the crowd chortled. “It’s because every time Mommy sees a spider-”
John nervously laughed and cut her off, suddenly embarrassed. “Don’t- don’t worry about it,” He whispered. She raised her eyebrows, and John cleared his throat in an attempt to change the subject. “Everyone, could I please have your attention? I’d like to introduce you to someone!”
The kids quieted down and peered up curiously at the blonde stranger.
He gestured to Lisa. “This is Lisa Pearson, my childhood friend. You‘ll see her around if she decides to visit again, so please be nice!”
“She’s Lisa? She doesn’t look as pretty as I thought she was.”
“Shush, Mom is talking!”
“You shush!”
Lisa chuckled at their bickering. “I’m glad they’re honest at least,” She said, and John sighed.
He glanced at her. “...Would you like to tell them a bit about yourself?”
But the children had broken into chaos once more, the air being filled with shrieks of mirth and blotting out what she was about to say.
She couldn’t help but smile. “They are children, after all. Here, why don’t I help you make dinner instead?”
John returned her grin. “Please.”
***
It was a peaceful moment between the two, cooking together and chatting about their lives like nothing had happened.
“It must’ve taken some major renovation to make the place look so nice,” Lisa remarked. “The little ones seem to love it here.” She peeled the last slice off a potato and threw it into a pot, filled it with water, and scraped the loose peels into a separate bowl.
Taking the pot, John moved it to the stove. Turning on the heat, he answered, “Took me and Father Garcia a good part of the year, but eventually, it was deemed good enough to house children by the government.” He took a large raw chicken from the fridge and placed it on a cutting board, starting to skin it. “I didn’t think they would let me near kids after what happened last year.”
“They know you were innocent,” Lisa said indignantly, now chopping carrots. “There was no evidence you killed Amy Martin, or that you… did that to her face.” She shuddered at the thought. It was certainly a feat of the human mind that anyone could think John was capable of murder, let alone carving out a little girl’s face when he could barely handle clowns. Poor John. He must have been so miserable inside the mental ward. From what he had told her, it sounded like they were putting him through psychological torture.
“It’s all over now, though,” He said. “And the orphanage and the people it helps is worth it.”
She sighed and scraped the thinly chopped carrots into a salad bowl. “I hope none of the insanity from last time starts up again. Considering all we’ve experienced, I’d say that's enough bad luck to last three lifetimes.”
John laughed, bringing the lighthearted air back to their conversation. “You could say that again.”
They continued their chatter, with the kids playing loudly in the background. Eventually, a sumptuous roast chicken was removed from the oven, and a salad, now fully assembled, was dressed and tossed, and Lisa’s potatoes were ready to be mashed. Some of the children were allowed to crush the potatoes with forks, albeit with little efficiency, while John led Lisa to the living room table to take a break.
“You’ve certainly improved at cooking,” She observed as John brought her a glass of water. “The last time you tried to cook a pancake, a fire nearly burnt the whole kitchen to a crisp.”
A flush spread across his face. “Well, I was only nine… Though I will say that cooking at midnight without the sisters’ permission or supervision wasn’t very wise.”
“We both got in trouble for that, by the way,” Lisa said, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow. “I can’t believe I let you drag me into it.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment a loud clatter and a bloodcurdling wail came from the kitchen.
“Aah! No hitting each other with the silverware!” John called, worry coursing through his voice. John mouthed sorry to Lisa, and she heard his panicked shouts fade away in the distance as he rushed toward the noise.
She sighed, smiling fondly. “Can’t leave them alone, huh?” With nothing to do but to wait for dinner, Lisa’s eyes wandered, eventually landing on a conversation that some of the children who weren’t interested in the potato pandemonium were having.
“HE’S your role model?” A girl with blonde hair sneered, peeking at a drawing clutched in the hand of a boy dressed in a tremendous amount of black.
He immediately snatched it away from her, giving the snooping girl the stink-eye. He stretched himself taller, addressing her dramatically, “We vampire slayers have aspired to be more like my ancestor, Abraham Van Hellsing, since the dawn of time. I am certainly no different.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe we’re the same age. How long are you planning to keep leaning into your delusions, Jon-nerd-ah?”
“Whatever. If you’re gonna call my role model lame, then let me see yours.” And before she could react, Jonah nabbed the girl’s paper. After a few seconds, he wore the same sneer she did just a moment ago, albeit a deep scowl now replaced her expression. “Seriously? He’s such a scaredy-cat! You can’t make fun of the greatest vampire hunter in history if you look up to-”
“Give it back, jerkwad!” She hissed, her ears turning red. She grabbed at her paper and tugged hard. It strained back and forth between them until it tore violently in half, the ripped pieces falling to the floor. The teens stared as it glided smoothly and landed at Lisa’s feet.
She picked them up. It was a picture of what looked like John, now severed at the waist, each detail carefully sketched in blue pen. It was remarkably feminine, with big eyes that clipped out of the head and long, sparkly lashes that were partially detached from his eyes. His legs were significantly shorter than his torso, which was so skinny that it looked as if a corset was permanently wound around it.
“Oh, sorry…” Lisa mumbled as the blonde girl stomped up to her, clenching her jaw and flushing red. “Um, you’re a very good artist.” She must be self-conscious about her drawings.
She placed the paper halves into the girl’s hands and watched as she silently climbed the stairs. Jonah scoffed and went back to drawing, rolling his eyes.
Just then, John came out of the kitchen panting heavily, looking disheveled with two children under his arms. All three of them were covered in bits of potato, with the girl under his left arm wiping some off her tanned face and sticking it in her mouth with a dreamy expression. The boy under his right arm looked rather sour and was crossing his chubby arms in a tiny fit, though it didn’t stop him from eating the potato off his face as well.
“Dinner- dinner’s ready,” John wheezed, catching his breath. He took a towel from his apron pocket and wiped the potato off the children’s faces, then his own. “Jonah, please call everyone to the dining room.”
The boy smothered in black dramatically sighed and went upstairs. John then gestured for Lisa to follow him, hanging his apron back on a hook on the wall.
After a little more wrangling, everyone sat around the dining table and John led them in a short prayer, letting everyone eat. The air was soon filled with the banter of children.
“Sally, look, Jonah is cutting his chicken into a funny circle!” A girl with curly ginger hair exclaimed, shoving a dripping piece of tomato and onion into her mouth.
The black-haired girl next to her wrinkled her nose. “Sarah, dummy, don’t chew with your mouth open. It’s gross.” Turning to Jonah, she peered at his plate. “So childish. Didn’t Mom ever teach you to not play with your food?” He pushed her face away with his hand, eyes still focused on his spectacularly butchered chicken.
“Mommy, can I have some more orange juice?” A pudgy-looking boy squeaked, holding out his empty glass.
“Of course!” John filled it halfway and smiled. “By the way, Tommy, have you seen Mina at all? She hasn’t come down for dinner.” His face crinkled in worry. “I hope she didn’t get herself into trouble again.”
“I think she’s still upstairs,” A pale boy with white hair said, spooning himself some mashed potatoes. “I saw her walk past when I was watching over the baby. She was pretty red, I think Jonah might’ve said something.”
Jonah let out a loud humph. “First of all, commoner, my name shan’t be slandered this way. My full title is Ulysses Van He-” The girl named Sally glared at him and pinched his cheek, causing him to yowl.
“Stop that!” He squawked indignantly, batting her hand away.
“We don’t care about your daydreams, schizophrenic.”
John sighed. “Children, please, not at the dinner table… I’ll go find Mina. Please stay behaved, you all.” He shot Lisa a pleading look and she gave him a small thumbs-up.
A child sitting next to her with short pigtails tapped her arm, hazel eyes wide. “Are you Mommy’s girlfriend?”
Lisa laughed. “No, but I knew him when we were children. He mentioned it in my introduction, didn’t he?”
The girl murmured a quiet ohhh and turned back to her food. Lisa then watched as she tried unsuccessfully to feed the baby in the hi-chair some lettuce, only to have a glob of mushed apple thrown in her face instead. The girl wiped it off, giving it the stink eye and throwing some of the mush right back. It landed on the baby’s bib, and it blew a raspberry at her. Lisa had to stuff her mouth with chicken to stifle her laughter.
Fortunately, other than the oddly sassy baby, the children took heed of their mother’s words this time and stayed relatively calm long enough for John to come back, unfortunately alone.
“She’s a little upset,” John whispered to Lisa. “I’ll save her some food for when she’s hungry.”
The dinner wrapped up in a surprisingly orderly manner as the kids piled their plates up next to the sink, some of them making off with a small candy from a basket Father Garcia had left behind. Most of them ran back into the playroom to play, while John picked up the baby and rocked him.
“There’s a place I wanted to show you but never got the chance to,” He said. “I have to put the baby to sleep, so I could ask one of the older children to lead you if you have time.”
Lisa nodded. “Of course.”
He smiled, then beckoned over a boy taller than him with curly brown locks. “Liam, if you could show Lisa the backyard…”
They spoke quietly to each other, and eventually, John went upstairs, leaving Lisa with the teen. “Follow me please, and watch your step,” Liam said, opening the backdoor to the house. It was raining lightly. He grabbed two umbrellas from the basket next to the frame, handing one to her and opening his outside. A winding stone path led from the door, glossy with water and lined with wooden fences holding back lush greenery. It had an ethereal beauty to it that Lisa couldn’t quite put her finger on, as if it were a portal leading to an undiscovered utopia.
They followed along past small ponds filled with algae and the occasional frog resting on a lily pad. She drank in the scent of the outdoors she’d missed from her childhood, sighing and closing her eyes. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. Lisa breathed, grinning. “Thank you.”
Liam returned her smile. “Don’t mention it.”
After a bit more walking, they reached a clearing framed with a clumsily built wooden arch, propped up with strings firmly tied to pegs in the ground. Inside was a garden with a gigantic pine tree in the center, the space around it filled with rows and rows of plants neatly separated by their types.
There were small paper tabs stuck into the soil labeling each one, all in different colors. Lisa bent down to read one under a scrawny stalk bearing small green bulbs, squinting at the smudged red marker. The tab read: Stawberys!!! And in neater handwriting under it: Planted 3/1/88 by Tommy Weissman.
It’s the end of June right now. “That was almost four months ago.” She stood up. “I never knew they took so long to grow.”
“They don’t,” Liam said, approaching the plant and cupping one of the berries in his palm. He gazed at it sadly and dropped it, sighing. “I’ve been taking care of the garden most of the time, and it’s been like this for a while now.” He said. “All of the plants have. None of us were able to figure out what’s happening, and neither has Father Garcia or John.”
“How awful,” Lisa said, frowning. “Is there any way I could…”
But there was something she could do. Or rather, something a certain someone else could do, someone she knew very well.
She pondered for a moment. “Would it be alright if I brought my friend Tiffany over to the orphanage sometime?” She asked. “It’s been a while, but she did earn a bachelor’s degree in plant biology. She’ll know something.”
He blinked. “Sure, I’ll ask John and see if he agrees.”
After looking around for a bit further, the two left the withering paradise for the orphanage. The rain had stopped during their short trip outside, and Liam took Lisa’s umbrella. John was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, I should head home,” Lisa said, navigating through the children playing on the floor. “Please tell John I’ll be visiting again soon and to consider my offer.” She shook Liam’s hand, then made toward the door.
“WAIT!!” The girl with pigtails from dinner came bounding towards Lisa, wearing a toothy grin. “I drew you something!” She squealed and showed her a piece of paper. It was a crayon drawing of a flower field with a rainbow in the back, the sky illuminated by a yellow sun in the corner. “You can have it if you want.”
Lisa took it and smiled fondly, patting the girl’s head. “Thank you so much! I’ll be sure to keep it safe.”
“Bye-bye!” The girl shouted from the front door as Lisa waved from her car window. She watched as she quickly scurried back inside, and with a final wave from Liam, the door closed.
As soon as she was sure she was alone, Lisa leaned back in her seat, sighing.
Children are cute, but they sure can be a fuckin’ handful.
***
It was dark outside when Lisa finally arrived home. She opened the door, and it creaked open to reveal a messy living room with moving boxes strewn everywhere and some clothes abandoned carelessly around the place. The few pieces of furniture that were set up were covered in a thin layer of dust from lack of use, other than the couch that sat across from the TV. It looks like Tiffany hasn’t finished moving her stuff in yet.
Lisa had asked Tiffany to move in with her, not wanting her to be stuck back at the apartment complex after what happened with the cult. She tried to help her with the boxes she had brought, but Tiffany refused to let her touch them, adamant that she put them away herself. As it had taken several months to convince her to stay, Lisa decided not to push it.
But now the boxes seemed to be completely abandoned in favor of several papers, many of them filled with messy lettering. Tiffany scrutinized them heavily, the sheets mere inches from her eyes as she bent over and scribbled illegible words on them. She was so focused on them that she never noticed Lisa enter the house, only reacting once she cleared her throat heavily.
“You’re back!” Tiffany said cheerfully, shambling forward to greet Lisa. Her eyes were weighed down with faint bags of fatigue that stained her usual doll-like complexion.
I wonder what’s got her so preoccupied.
“Where have you been?” She said. “You’ve never been out for longer than an hour if you could help it.”
“John invited me,” Lisa yawned, giving her a quick hug and collapsing onto the sofa. “He runs an orphanage.”
“Oh?” Tiffany returned to her papers. “Tell me about it.”
She ended up talking over the soap opera starting to air on TV, while Tiffany responded to everything with an occasional hum or a short laugh. She’s trying to sound interested, but her eyes aren’t leaving the papers. Curious, Lisa leaned in close to peek at them.
Tiffany sat up from her curled-up position at the same time, and their heads ended up colliding in a painful thunk. Lisa yelped, while Tiffany barely flinched.
“Oh… Sorry,” She mumbled, picking up an empty mug and shuffling toward the kitchen. “By the way, are you hungry? I can whip something up for you before I go back to work.”
Lisa shook her head. “I had dinner there, remember?”
“Ah. Right.” She closed them and headed for the water kettle. “Alright. More coffee for me, then.”
“Coffee?” Lisa blanched. “Tiff, it’s almost 8-”
“I know, I know.” Tiffany laughed dryly. “Can’t be helped, though. I can’t sleep until I get a job.” Her laughter fizzled off into a melancholy sigh. “I’ve been denied by all of the ones I’ve applied to. Not even a week of consideration, just an immediate letter of rejection.”
Lisa tilted her head. “How long have you been sending applications to these companies?”
Tiffany was suddenly very interested in watching the water boil.
“You can tell me,” She said, laughing nervously.
After a long pause, Tiffany waved her hand as if clearing the air. “I-it doesn’t matter. It’ll happen eventually.” She showed her a wobbly attempt at a smile. “Just a matter of time. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” She said sadly as her friend gave her an unconvinced look, “It just takes a while to find the right one.”
Lisa thought for a moment. “I’ll stay up with you then, at the very least. Someone’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.”
“Eh?” Tiffany flinched. “Absolutely not. By the time I finish filling out all the forms, it might already be dawn.” She fidgeted. “I might not finish at all.”
“Then I could help you fill out the applications,” Lisa said, standing up from the couch and stretching. “I know I’m no good with persuasive writing, but I don’t want you passing out in the middle of the day tomorrow because of this.”
“But your paintings-”
“They can wait.”
“If you have plans tomorrow-“
“I’m free all day.”
“Your sleep schedule…” Tiffany mumbled, her hands gripping the mug tightly.
Lisa firmly shook her head. “I’m telling you, it’s fine. It’s not as bad as you think it is. And if it’s this important to you, then it is to me as well.”
Tiffany gave her a look of concern. “...You don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” Lisa said, smiling. “But I want to.”

Abby says that without her none of the dance moms girls/mothers would be known. For me that is somewhat true and somewhat false. Everyone in season 1 (true ogs) plus Abby got famous together because of Lifetime and the show itself. Abby even admitted that she was NOT supposed to be on the show and it was just about the moms and girls. Abby only became part of the show because of her fight with minister Dawn. So technically, minister Dawn got Abby to be on the show because of that huge fight.
Now, here is who Abby did make famous:
Kendall/Jill - Abby said that she told producers about having Kendall/Jill on show after season 1 ended & before season 2 started.
Asia Ray - From AUDC season 1 as the youngest cast member (6yrs) who made it to AUDC season 1 finale and brought on season 3 to rival Kenzie, which eventually led to Raising Asia.
Kalani/Kira - From AUDC season 2 & Abby's favorite. Kalani/Kira didn't even have to try out to be part of the show because of Abby's favoritism towards Kalani. Kalani/Kira even said they weren't supposed to even be on the show and just make a guest appearance for the infamous duet 2 sapphires. We all know that this duet led to the departure of the Hylands and the welcoming of the Hilikers.
Jojo/Jess - From AUDC season 2 & the MOST successful on this list. Producers wanted Jojo/Jess on the show for season 5 due to the Siwas loud/obnoxious personalities & Abby kept complaining that she didn't want the Siwas on the show./team Now because of the Siwas, specifically Jojo branching out to huge stardom with Nick & her bow lines being sold nation wide & other controversial/media stuff, Abby loves them.
Brynn/Ashlee - Brynn & Kalani went to the same dance studio Club Dance. Abby had gone down to Arizona to do things with Kalani and that's how she met Brynn/Ashlee. I believe through that meeting & ALDC competing in Arizona against Club Dance in season 5 before the Matty B project, Brynn got to be part of season 5 for a few episodes & then was the only person who auditioned for season 6 to make it on the elite team.
Camryn Bridges - Abby liked her during the season 4 Atlanta audition which brought her to the season 7 audition where she made the team. Now Camryn is one of Usher's main dancers and even performed on the superbowl with him.
Maesi Caes - Auditioned for season 7 and selected as the only junior member to balance out older girls & minis. I believe because of her time on the show she was able to be on Little Big Shots, be on world of dance with her Iowa teammates, & why her now college cheer team's winning routine became VIRAL.
Elliana/Yolanda - Auditioned for season 6 mini team but wasn't brought on the team until Maddie/Kenzie reported their departure. I believe Elliana didn't make the mini team at first because she was too good for that team. But when Zieglers said they would be leaving, the producers wanted a mini Maddie and I believe that's how Elliana got picked. I also believe that being a mini Maddie/eventually mini Chloe, Elliana stayed for season 7. Because of being on Dance Moms, I believe Elliana won TDA mini best dancer in 2018, was able to be on DWTSjr, casted for Chicken Girls, casted as Clara in 2019, and be a member of Piper Rockelle's squad where she & Jentzen became/still are a couple.
Lilly/Stacey - Part of mini team season 6B, all of Seasons 7 & 8. Lilly/Stacey have said they didn't even audition to be on the show. I believe Abby/producers saw the IG picture of Lilly dancing in one of Chloe's meet/greet classes & thought to bring her on because of the encounter with the Lukasiaks. I also believe Lilly was brought on for the timing of 6B because Kenzie was gone and Lilly was to be a mini Kenzie (being the smallest always in pigtails/strong in acro). Lilly eventually became the mini Maddie to Elliana's mini Chloe for the new "Maddie/Chloe" rivalry and Stacey made a lot of drama so they were kept for season 7.
Season 8 kids (Brady, Gianina, Pressley, & Hannah) - We all know the season 8 auditions. Brady was somewhat famous in the dance world & from Jordan Matter YT videos, but became more known from the show. Gianina did some stuff before the show, but again became more known from the show & because of that she got more work in LA. Pressley also did some stuff before the show and again like the other 2 became more known from the show. Because of the show, like Gianina, Pressley got more work in LA but more recognizable work like being on Brat & being part of Nickeloden. Hannah only got known for being on Season 8 & then by being super close with Abby after the show, she was casted on Abby's new show MadHouse.

Part 1 Part 2
The time that elapsed between the next time King Creole called me was much less than the second time. He wasted only a day before calling me in the middle of a rare moment of spending time with my dad after he had finally gotten a day off. We had been holed up in the living room watching movies together when my phone began to vibrate in my pocket.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumbled as I saw who was calling me. I held up a finger to my dad when he was about to ask who it was before I answered the phone and quickly stood up from the couch. “Yes?” I didn’t want to call him ‘sir’ in front of my dad since the last thing I wanted was to have him think that I had some kind of job on the side that he didn’t know about. I had also expected Creole to be still pissed at me after trying to buy the Jeff and Tom voodoo dolls. But he still sounded as cheery as ever.
“Mace, darling! Sorry to interrupt your movie day with your dear ol’ dad.” Creole’s voice laughed through the mic, making my blood cold when he mentioned my dad. I glanced over at my dad as he was barely paying attention to the movie and was starting to doze off on the couch. “Y’all can finish your movie if you’d like, but as soon as you’re free I need you here at the shop. Something’s come up that requires your lovely picking skills. Don’t take too long, darling.” He chuckled before hanging up on me before I could even respond to him.
I let out a pained groan into my hand as I shoved my phone back into my pocket. I walked back over to the couch and plopped myself down on it, not even stirring my dad who had fully conked out. It wasn’t even that I was upset at missing the movie since it was one that me and dad had watched plenty of times together. I was just annoyed and sad that I had to ‘work’ on the one day he had a day off.
With the movie finishing up not long after I shook my dad awake. With a snort he shot up from the couch, probably thinking that he was late to work or something, before he reorientated himself to where he was.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I told him, smiling at the confused and tired look on his face. “I’m going out for a bit, okay?” I told him as I quickly checked my pocket to ensure that I had my lockpick tools with me this time. I’d rather not have a repeat of having to run back home for them.
“Oh, okay sweetheart,” my dad said with a bit of relief. I figured he just wanted more sleep, so I guess it worked out for the both of us that Creole needed me for some other horrible job. I hugged him and he made sure to give me one that succeeded in popping my back in several places. After he let me go I went over to the front door and started making my way down to the voodoo shop.
The sun was beginning to set on the horizon which gave me some hope that this job would cause me less anxiety than the last two, but also scared me because it seemed like I was starting to get used to all this. The last thing that I wanted was to be getting used to this shit. I pushed all those thoughts to the back of my mind when I entered the shady part of town where the voodoo shop was located. As I rounded the corner down the street from where the voodoo shop was, my path was blocked by two guys I had known back in high school.
“Mace?” Jacob, the taller of the two asked as he turned to look at me when he realized that I was standing awkwardly there. I wasn’t close to Jacob at school. He was known as the drug dealer and wannabe gang member. He had been expelled from the school just a few months before graduation and had apparently disappeared off the face of the Earth. And of all the places I could’ve run into him it had to be near the voodoo shop.
“Hey,” I said, looking at the two guys before noticing the small zip-lock bag being passed between the two of them. “Sorry didn’t mean to interrupt your…business.” I cleared my throat as I tried to just walk past them. It wasn’t any of my business what these two guys did with their free time and money.
“She a cop or something?” The mystery dude said and it was obvious that he was tweaking. Nothing about me screamed cop but in this dude's mind, I must have been the biggest narc in the city. I was just going to walk past them and leave them be, but the druggie reached out and grabbed me.
“Get the fuck off me!” I shouted at him as I kicked him as hard as I could in the crotch. When my life is on the line fighting dirty is most definitely on the table. The junkie doubled over in pain and gagged with pain with how hard I had driven my shoe into his crotch. Jacob backed up from me after I did that and didn’t try to stop me from continuing on my way. I got only a few more steps forward before I felt a hand reach out and grab me. Before I could turn around to deal with whatever was grabbing me I also felt a sharp and intense pain in my neck.
“You fucking cunt,” The junkie coughed out as I felt the pain increase in intensity and warm liquid began seeping into my shirt. I looked down at my right side and cried out in gargled pain as I looked down at the knife sticking into my neck and being twisted around by the junkie. “You are a fucking cop aren’t you?!” He screamed out as he pulled the knife out and stabbed it back into me.
I tried to get away from him but his grip increased on me and I quickly felt my strength leaking out of me along with my blood. I could hear Jacob’s voice and he seemed to be distressed but I couldn’t tell what he was saying as the world began to spin and I felt increasingly lightheaded. And before I knew it I had somehow ended up on the sidewalk floor. I could hear screaming and fighting just near me, but my eyelids grew increasingly impossible to keep open and I struggled to be able to breathe. Just before I lost consciousness I felt like I was being lifted off of the floor. I thought that maybe I would be going to heaven after all.
When I next woke up, I was inside the voodoo shop, inside King Creole’s office. I was sitting down on a plush upholstered chair and felt like I had just been run over by a steamroller. When I tried to move even a muscle I found it impossible to so much as move my pinkie.
“Goodness! You’re awake already.” Creole’s voice frightened me for a second, as the silence was suddenly broken by it. He walked past me and sat down on a small stool that was in front of the chair I was sitting on. I have to admit he looked absolutely ridiculous sitting on that stool and it made me smile, and if I could I would’ve probably laughed.
When I tried to open my mouth to speak only a horrible croaking sound came out. And that scared me more than anything else. The feeling of hearing your voice in your head and not matching what comes out of your mouth is terrifying.
“I wouldn’t recommend talking at this moment, Mace my darling,” Creole told me as he was busy picking a few items off of his desk before swiveling on the stool back to face me. “That addict did quite a number on your throat.” He had needle and thread in his hand and I was apprehensive about letting him near me with those things, but it wasn’t like I had much choice in the matter. So I allowed him to sew my neck up, and to my surprise, he finished almost as quickly as he started.
“My momma taught me how to sew real well.” He chuckled as he produced a long pair of scissors to cut the thread. “Now to help you recover your voice.” He held up a small bottle filled with a deep blue liquid in it. “Drink this in one gulp,” he told me as he handed the small item to me. I nodded and uncapped it, letting the small cork drop to his floor. But he didn’t seem to mind at all as I tipped my head back and allowed the viscous liquid to slide down my throat. It had no real taste at first but as more time passed it left a slight taste of citrus behind.
“H-how do I sound?” I asked after a few seconds of letting the liquid settle. My voice had returned but it sounded very far away. Almost like the last hint of an echo. Creole nodded and carefully patted me on the head.
“It’ll get stronger as time goes on. You’re lucky I got to you in time. Any later and I don’t think I would’ve been able to save you in this state.” He sounded sincere for the first time since I’d had the displeasure of first meeting him. And yet even after being in his debt, he had still saved my life.
“What about…them?” I asked him, my voice still so quiet despite the fact I was trying to shout it out at him. Even Creole took a few moments to figure out what I was trying to say before that horrible smile I knew so well from him returned to his face.
“Well, that horrible addict has been dealt with. But I’ve not yet decided what to do with Jacob.” He chuckled, standing up from the stool walking back over to his desk, and taking a seat behind it. While I was more than happy to hear that the person responsible for stabbing me had been dealt with, however horribly Creole may have done that. But in my mind, Jacob hadn’t done anything wrong but try and get by just like I was.
“Is there…a way for you to spare him? I don’t feel like he deserves to be hurt,” I said as I slowly felt my strength returning to my body. It was enough to be able to sit up in the big comfy chair he had sat me down in. This seemed to catch Creole off-guard and he stared at me with his giant button eyes for a moment.
“Hmm,” He humed in thought for a moment. “I suppose I can consider it.” He shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair. “But for now, you still have a job to do, darling,” he said with a smile and stood up from his chair excitedly. I was about to complain to him, mostly about the fact I had almost been murdered a few minutes ago. But I didn’t have any arguing points.
“What is it this time?” I asked, startled at the slight increase in the volume of my voice. Creole kicked the stool out of the way and dangled a doll in front of me. It was a small puppet held up by strings and I noticed that he didn’t have one of those puppet controllers, the strings were coming out of his fingertips.
“A couple came in here with their child today. And while their backs were turned, the kid took a voodoo doll off the shelf.” The little doll danced in front of me and it took me longer than I should’ve probably realized that the doll resembled the junkie to a frightening degree.
“And you need me to get it back.” I finished his statement and he nodded excitedly. “Is it in the same neighborhood as the last two?” I asked, really just wanting to keep talking in the hope that by doing so my voice would return faster. To my surprise, he shook his hand and turned his gaze down to the puppet. Suddenly in the puppet’s little hands was a drawing.
“This address should be more familiar to you,” he said with that creepy happy smile plastered on his face. I reached out and took the drawing from the puppet and when I did that, the strings retracted into his fingertips and he gripped the puppet tightly in his fist when it came up along with the strings.
I shuddered at his sudden display of violence and looked down at the drawing. And to my shock, I was presented with an address that was in my neighborhood. I quickly looked back up at him and he stared down at me, his size causing me to cower deep into the comfy chair. I had gotten used to the routine of going to some stranger's neighborhood. But this was in my crib, and there was a chance that I knew these people.
“It ain’t going to be a problem, is it my darling Mace?” He reached out and held my face in his gloved hand. I shook my head quickly and stood up quickly. All my strength returned just to get me away from him. Something told me that a dick kick wouldn’t do anything to him so it was better just to get as much distance between us as possible.
“I-I’ll get right on it, sir,” I told him, stuffing the drawing which I hadn’t even paid attention to into my pocket. “R-right on it,” I repeated as I turned to leave his office. I walked past the basement door and was startled by the frantic banging that greeted me as I did so. I panted softly as I turned into the main shop and was again startled when I saw that Jacob was tied up with a gag stuffed into his mouth. He was sitting down in the register chair and he frantically screamed at me though it was nothing but muffled nonsense.
“Don’t worry about him, Mace,” Creole told me as he suddenly appeared behind me and gripped my shoulder tightly. “I’ll take good care of him.” He laughed softly, a different tone from his normal cheery chuckles. This was a laugh that curdled my blood. Jacob’s eyes were wide with fear as he stared at me and he mumbled toward me. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could and simply ran toward the front door.
I had my own problems to worry about. I couldn’t be worrying about Jacob. In truth, I didn’t want to end up like him, and maybe that’s why I ran away so quickly and so blindly. I was already back in my neighborhood before I realized it and came back to reality. It only then occurred to me to check on the damage that had been done to me. I pulled my phone out and dared to point the selfie cam at my neck. I nearly burst out in tears at the sight of the gnarly stitching on my neck and throat.
I quickly shoved my phone back into my pocket and did my best to pull my shirt up a bit to hide the horrible wound under it, though it didn’t do much but succeed in making me look more shifty. I pulled the drawing out of my pocket to double-check the address and only then looked down at the voodoo doll I was being sent to retrieve.
It looked smaller than the others in the drawing. Creole had made the effort to make it smaller in the picture and it appeared to be a child wearing an outfit I’d describe as a 1950s aesthetic. I could only imagine what this poor kid was going to have unleashed on themselves. I sighed and hoped that I would get there before it was too late.
I arrived at the home and was immediately glad that it wasn’t someone I knew. And by the looks of it, the parents were still at work as no car was in sight. Though there was the possibility of it being in the garage. What turned me off instantly though was the sight of a home defense advertisement on their front lawn. Meaning I only had a certain amount of time before their alarm went off. I was about to whisper a curse when I suddenly felt my pocket get significantly hotter. I quickly reached into my pocket and pulled out the drawing.
To my surprise, it was on fire. But only on one side and that soon quickly ended. Smoke rose from the drawing and I was greeted by both a message and a code. ‘Figured you might need this, KC’ the message said. That feeling of being watched returned to me and the hair stood up on the back of my neck.
I quickly reached into my pocket and pulled out my tools to get to work on this. The quicker this was over the quicker I could ask him to somehow cover up this scar on my neck. I reached the door and quickly got to work. I hated to admit it but the locks here in my neighborhood were nowhere near as good as the ones in the rich suburbs were. It was like picking a cheap padlock used on a bike because before I knew it the door was open, and I was quickly scrambling inside to input the code to deactivate the alarm.
Once that was done, I quickly went about looking for the doll. If the kid had taken it, it was obvious to begin searching in their room. I walked past some family pictures and confirmed my thinking that the kid had been a girl. It would make sense for her to take a small doll that was seemingly made for little girls. Like a horrible haunted American girl doll. As I started up the stairs, I started hearing giggling and laughing. Not malicious or anything, the sounds of children playing.
I arrived outside the girl’s room and did my best to try and peek in without being noticed. Two girls were sitting on the bed and giggling with each other. And one of them was wearing the same outfit as the voodoo doll. Which meant that I was too late. And I had no talisman to change the little girl back into a doll like I had done with the killer lumberjack. I had no idea what to do. Leaving the girls to play I quickly went into the other room across the hall which turned out to be a spare bedroom by the look of it. I silently closed the door behind me and quickly pulled my phone out to call Creole.
The phone rang for an agonizing amount of time before he finally picked up. I wish he hadn’t because as soon as he did loud screaming came pouring out of the mic. It soon quickly subsided into gargles that resembled the ones that I had made when I had been stabbed in the neck.
“Mace! To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Creole asked me as he struggled against something on his end. I was quickly regretting this call but if he wanted me to do something about this little girl I needed him to give me something.
“Sir, the voodoo doll has become a little girl. And I don’t have a talisman to turn her back.” I told him quickly, keeping my already quiet voice down which was shockingly quiet. I swear to God I must have sounded like a mouse to him.
“Ah, well that is unfortunate. I had hoped that you might be able to get to her before that happened. Lil’ Miss Sarah is quite the manipulator. Especially with fellow children.” He hummed into the receiver as he was thinking about something. I nervously tapped my foot on the carpeted floor and looked at the door separating me from the girls. And my eyes widened as I saw the door slowly close.
“Sir…I think they might know I’m here.” I whispered into my phone. There was silence on his end and I looked down at my phone to see if he’d hung up on me. “Sir?” I asked with desperation in my voice. I started nervously pacing around the room waiting for him to answer me.
“Get out of that house, Macedonia,” he told me in a serious tone. He didn’t have to tell me twice I was already heading for the door to get out of the room and out into the hallway. I opened the door and started making my way toward the stairs. Just before I could reach the first step I felt two pairs of small hands shove me down the stairs. My phone flew out of my hand as I came tumbling down to the first floor. The second time on one of these jobs I’d fallen down a flight of stairs.
“Great job, Em!” A small southern voice shouted out. I groaned and rolled over on my back, quickly met by someone sitting on my chest and holding a knife to my neck. This was quickly turning into the worst day ever, almost on par with when I first met King Creole. When my vision finally focused on the tiny figure straddling my chest I saw that it was the living voodoo doll girl. She was wearing a small 50s-style dress with brown hair tied in pigtails, she looked almost like Shirley Temple. Although I don’t think she was in any mood to give me animal crackers.
“W-what should we do now, Sarah?” a softer voice asked. Turning my head to the side, I saw standing behind us on the stairs was a little girl who also had pigtails. The voodoo doll who was named Sarah looked back at the little girl and then back down at me. A smile came across her face as she inched the knife close to my fresh stitches.
“Call the police, Em. I’ll keep her here,” she ordered the other girl, who quickly scurried off to go and find a phone. I stared up at the little girl and could tell from the look on her face that she wasn’t a normal little girl if the fact that she was a living voodoo doll was any indication of that being the case.
“You’re going back to the store.” I threatened her. She giggled and poked the tip of her knife into the gaps in the stitches of my neck. I shuddered and tried to remain perfectly still as she silently threatened me.
“You’re stupid if you think he’s going to let you go after you complete his tasks.” She told me. She may have been a little girl but he had the mind of a deranged killer by the sound of her. I believed her of course, it was something I thought about often. What was going to stop him from turning me into a voodoo doll or something worse?
“What choice do I have?” I asked her, wishing so badly I could simply just shove her off of me. But with how her knife was held at my throat one wrong move and I wouldn’t have Creole close by to save me a second time. The little girl looked down at me and then back up towards upstairs momentarily.
“It’s been almost sixty years and so much has changed. But I do know one thing.” Sarah giggled maniacally as she looked back at me with a deranged look on her face. “I’m going to enjoy carving her like a pumpkin.” She motioned toward the upstairs. I clenched my fists and without even thinking decked the little girl in the face, sending her flying off of me. I acted quickly and started running toward the front door.
I barely got a few feet before I was tackled to the floor. The one time the cops arrived on time and it had to be the time that I was running from them. I kicked and tried to get them off of me but I realized real quickly that that wasn’t going to get me anywhere and simply went limp. My first thought was how my Mom and Dad were going to react to this. As I was shoved into the police cruiser I glanced over to the front door where Sarah and Em were standing staring at me. And Sarah had her arm wrapped around Em and staring with a sadistic smile at me.
When I arrived at the police station I was quickly booked and tossed into an interrogation room. I quickly sat in the corner of the room and curled up in a ball on my chair. All I could think about was how my parents were going to react to this. They had tried so hard to prevent me from going down this path and here I was, under arrest and probably about to be thrown into jail. How exactly could I tell them that I was working for a living voodoo doll, tracking down his escaped voodoo doll children? I sighed as I fumbled around with the handcuffs that were on my wrists to pass the time.
When the door to the interrogation room opened three hours later, I expected the stereotypical overweight cop to be interrogating me. Instead, I was met by a uniformed cop who looked like he’d just seen the most horrendous things that had ever happened. He fumbled around with his keys before unlocking my handcuffs and helping me stand up.
“I’m so sorry. We had no idea of knowing that you worked for Mr. Creole. If you had told us that we wouldn’t have even brought you here.” He was in an absolute panic. His words were going a million miles an hour and it took me a few seconds to process everything. I rubbed my wrists and he quickly exited the room and told me to follow him. The entire station was muttering to themselves as they saw me walk past them.
“You guys know King Creole?” I asked the officer leading me toward the lobby of the station. He looked back at me and sighed as he held onto this bulletproof vest like every cop does.
“We have…an understanding with him. He keeps crime low. We…stay out of his way,” he told me in shame. My mouth dropped at that revelation. It all made sense. How the murders in the house with the lumberjack doll were never investigated, why my ‘missing’ friends weren’t found. Why I was now suddenly being released without so much as a slap on the wrist. He had the police in his pocket.
At the lobby of the station, I was met by a horrifying sight. I had expected Creole to be there to pick me up. But instead, it was Jacob. Or rather what had once been Jacob. His eyes had been replaced by buttons and he was as pale as Creole was. It looked like he had been cut straight down the middle and was being held together by stitches and metal staples. His mouth, unlike Creole’s, was sewn shut and tightly. He bowed down at me as if I was someone important or royalty.
“I take it, this freak is with you?” the officer escorting me asked, to which I nodded and shuddered in fear. I hadn’t known Jacob very well. But to see someone I knew at all turned into one of Creole’s playthings again like Jess, had almost sent me into a full-blown panic attack.
I was realsed into Jacob’s company and he opened the door for me to exit the station. And to my confusion and horror, we had somehow stepped out into the voodoo shop. I looked back at Jacob as he followed me through the door and silently motioned for me to go to the register. I hesitated at first before following his instructions. He went in the back, probably to get his new boss, and left me standing before the counter.
“Mace!” Creole shouted excitedly, his entire body drenched in blood. I shuddered and stepped back as he took his place at the register picked up the template doll from the register and began tossing it up and down in his hand. “Quite the mess you caused. You left me to clean it up.” He teased me as he continued to toss the doll up and down.
“I-I’m sorry, sir.” I apologized submissively, staring down at the floor like a child about to be scolded. “It just…all got out of hand.” That could be used to explain my current situation or my entire life since first breaking into this hellhole.
“Apology accepted. It felt nice to step out of the shop for once,” he said as he stopped tossing the doll up and down and pointed with a bloodstained gloved finger toward the wall of voodoo dolls. I followed his gaze and saw that Sarah had been returned to voodoo doll form and was back on the wall, much higher up this time. “Unfortunately I didn’t get there in time to save poor Miss Emily.” He sighed sadly, his finger drifting down toward a doll just under Sarah,
I covered my mouth in horror as I saw a doll that looked exactly like Emily under her. “What happened?” I asked him. He looked at me and held up his finger to his bloodstained face.
“It’s better ya don’t know.” He hummed out. “Sarah was quite the little murderer back in the 50s. You wouldn’t believe the amount of trouble I had getting her to walk into my shop,” he said with a smile as he tossed the template doll back on the register and leaned in closer to me.
“Even though you failed to get her back, I’ll still count this as your favor done.” He held up two fingers. “Two more to go.” I nodded and reached up to pick at my stitches, just wanting some way to relieve the mounting stress and anxiety building up inside of me.
“Do you…have something to hide these?” I asked, pointing toward my wound. He looked at me and slapped the register table. I thought he was about to fly off the hinges and tear me apart or something, but instead, he looked shocked.
“Dear me, where is my head at?! Of course, darling. One moment. Jacob my boy?” He snapped his fingers toward the now mute Jacob. He went rigid like a soldier at attention, ready to receive whatever order his new boss had for him. “Go into my office and fetch the ointment for lil’ Miss Macedonia here.” He ordered and Jacob dutifully nodded and walked back toward Creole’s office.
I was left alone with him as Jacob went to get my ointment. He stared at me with his button eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time. When the banging started up again from the basement door I watched as his face contorted from his usual cheerily creepy smile to one of annoyance and rage. When Jacob finally returned with the ointment it wasn’t quick enough. I took it from him and was so happy that it came with instructions.
I left the shop just as Creole stood up to go toward the basement. I applied the ointment as I walked along the sidewalk back toward my house. To my immense relief, I watched through my phone as the hideous scar and stitches disappeared before my eyes. I was left with a horrifying dilemma.
When Creole was done with me, would he turn me into a voodoo doll? Or a mutilated living corpse like Jacob.

Everyone knows about the Witching Tree. Everyone knows that it is different. It is tall, and gnarled, and has long spindly branches that reach up to the sky like the rigor mortis legs of a crushed spider. Nobody recalls ever seeing leaves on those branches, but the Witching Tree doesn’t feel dead.
It doesn’t look like any of the other trees around it, on the hill at the park. It’s not an oak, nor a pine, and certainly not one of those big redwoods that you’ve seen in the foothills. The Witching Tree is the Witching Tree.
You know you’re supposed to capitalize it when you write it out, just like God.
You have a feeling that it would know if you didn’t.
As long as there have been children, as long as there have been knives, there have been those who took it upon themselves to leave their mark on the natural world, carving their sign into the bark of a living thing to prove that they were there, that they were real. All of the rest of the trees in the park have at least a couple such scars from the vanity of children, a prepubescent drive for immortality. The Witching Tree has only one.
Nobody said you couldn’t carve your initials into the Witching Tree. There wasn’t a list of rules that you had to follow. Children just know these things. Most of them, anyway.
Tommy Colgate didn’t care about doing what he was supposed to. He’d say curse words in front of teachers, he’d pull girls’ pigtails, and he’d throw rocks at pigeons. He also had been given a shiny new whittling knife for his birthday.
All the other children watched when Tommy climbed up the hill, the sunlight glinting off his knife as he unfolded it. They all watched as he plunged it into the bark, carving out a jagged, clumsy “T.C.”
He seemed so smug when he came back down the hill, smiling like he’d just won the lottery. He was the first kid to carve his name on the Witching Tree. He would also be the last.
The other children weren’t surprised when Tommy didn’t come to school the next day. They weren’t surprised when they saw his obituary in the local newspaper, the one which conspicuously left out the cause of death. Those who went to the funeral weren’t surprised that it was a closed casket. Nobody carved their initials into the Witching Tree and got away with it.
Sometimes you can still hear some of the older kids whisper tales about Tommy Colgate, about the countless slashes that covered all over his body, arranged in odd patterns like some sort of alien language, and the rust-brown stains they found on the Witching Tree’s branches. They’ll laugh it off of course, say it’s just a ghost story.
But to this day, there is still only one set of initials carved into the Witching Tree’s bark.

Ayano's mother told her that when she met her special boy, Ayano would feel sparks and butterflies.
But when she met Taro, the first thing she felt was pain, considering the blood running down her nose.
The girl cradled her bloody nose as she sat on the floor, not batting an eye at the boy's worried rambling. Ayano watched as a girl with orange hair in pigtails immediately pushed the rather bland-looking boy to kneel in front of her.
"Damn it! Taro! Her nose is bleeding!" The girl shouted. The boy, supposedly 'Taro' immediately put his hands over his mouth in horror.
"Shit! I'm so sorry!" He said and went down to look at Ayano, "I'm so sorry!" He blabbers in worry, his hands swooping down to help pull the girl up.
Ayano glanced at the two of them, they're loud, she thought as, watched the orange-hair smacks smack Taro's hand away.
"I'll carry her to the nurse." The girl declared loudly, a hand wrapping around Ayano's waist, narrowing her eyes at Taro.
Meanwhile, Taro raised a brow at the girl "You busted your ass at the damn monkey bars, you can't carry anyone, Osana." He said and moved and went to help support Ayano.
Then, they started to walk through the halls. It was awkward, considering Taro accidentally slammed a book in Ayano's face when he was running.
Osana pauses for a few seconds, furrowing her brows before she suddenly blinks, "Oh right, my name is Osana Najimi, and the doofus who broke your nose is Taro."
Taro groaned, resisting the urge to smack the girl's shoulder as he held onto Ayano.
When they got to the nurse's office, Taro couldn't stop apologizing, it was pathetic in all honesty, but Ayano didn't mind.
Taro sighs, a worried look in his eyes. "Again, I'm sorry about the whole.." he makes a vague gesture with his right hand, "Not looking where I was going and kinda slamming my book in your face…?"
Osana slaps the boy's arm, "Kinda?! You gave her a nosebleed, you damn clutz!" She says, jabbing a finger in the boy's arm, but her eyes soften when she looks at Ayano, "I can help you get to class, and—oh right, what's your name?"
Ayano pauses and says, quietly, their voice barely above a whisper as she looks down at her lap,
"Ayano..my name is Ayano Ashi."
Ayano didn't see how the two teen's eyes brightened when they heard her name, and little did she know she would get attached to them.

Since the very first game, Golden Freddy is shown as "the angriest" soul, with stuff as simple as his jumpscare and screaming. It's much more than others. In FNAF2, the insanity happens when Golden Freddy wakes up. Dunno how popular this theory is, but I saw it here on fnaftheories - GGGL minigame is being interrupted by Golden, or they simply don't cooperate with the others. Golden can't be reasoned with and doesn't want help. I also don't see the point in assuming that UCN is NOT about Golden Freddy. "The One You Shouldn't Have Killed" is also the One You Shouldn't Have Death Coined. It's the one who appears twitching in the ending.
This is different media, so you're free to ignore that point, but the FNAF Movie is pretty much the same, with Golden Freddy being the most vengeful one and the one who looks over Springtrap twitching in pain.
But then, we learn about Cassidy. Cassidy is written as a curious soul who became friends with Bite Victim. She knows everything about him, asks questions, and is cooperative. The complete opposite of everything we know about Golden Freddy. I don't understand the point of "Golden Freddy casually talking to Bite Victim" if Golden Freddy is broken, unhappy, and needs The Happiest Day to happen to be free. Opposite types of characters.
Whether you believe that Frights is set in the game continuity or not - Andrew completely encapsulates what Golden Freddy is - the vengeful spirit. If Frights is a different continuity, I believe this story was meant to clarify the personality and goals of the soul trapped inside Golden Freddy. Game-lore Golden Freddy is either Andrew or an Andrew parallel. But I think that his whole existence is Scott telling us "you are very wrong about Cassidy".
Cassidy is someone who talks to Bite Victim. That's why I try to connect her to the "final speaker" from FNAF 4 minigames. The one who said "I will put you back together" is Cassidy. It's the pigtail girl from the minigames. I have a separate theory about the importance of the pigtail girl, but that's a whole different bag of worms to open. For now - Cassidy is not Golden Freddy. That's the claim.

The power in me Prolog:
"KAWAKI!!!!!!!! ' A heartbroken scream fills the battlefield of a utterly devastated Konoha. The rest of Team 7 and all members of Team 10 , including Sasuke , watch helplessly as Boruto; once their childhood friend and now corrupted into a new consciousness by his Ootsutsuki genes; pierced his foster brother Kawaki's chest with his rasengan. A gash is clearly visible on Kawaki's chest. All because he hasn't wanted to let Sarada protect him. Slowly, Ishiki's former vessel raises its head to look at Sarada again. He looks at Sarada in pain. If he has to go now, which he used to do before the time of Konoha, before Lord 7 and before Sarada, his first friend; has longed for; he wants to see her face at least one last time.
She has changed on the outside. Her short, black hair has grown long and she wears it in two long pigtails. She has grown in the last three years of her disappearance, but he still towers over her by a head like before. She still wears her cute glasses that always made her seem a bit nerdy. A fact that he also liked about her and underlined her intelligence. She's gotten a little more muscular, and she's developed a purple mark on her forehead during the time of her disappearance, which closely resembles his hated Karma Mark. He sincerely hopes that she never had to suffer for it like he did. Her hair blows in the wind and the hair on her right side that hides her face he can see her purple Rinnegan. Her other eye glows fiery red and a black sun has formed around her black pupil. Her left eyeglasses are cracked and a distinctly red trickle is constantly running down her cheek. Did he cause it? If so, then he is very sorry for causing her pain. He finds both eyes beautiful and can't stop staring at them. An annoying habit of his that he has noticed in himself since he's known Sarada. Most of the time in the past he was distracted by something or someone so he could stop.
However, her personality has changed. The once so cheerful girl from 3 years ago has become a serious personality. He misses her laugh from back then. He blames himself for what happened to her 3 years ago. I'm so sorry for leaving you in this pain; are his thoughts of her because he lacks the strength to speak. He actually wants to tell her so much and spend so much time. If it were up to him, live a lifetime and finally understand what Lord 7 once tried to explain to him, what it means to connect with each other's chakra. Shit! It's not fair!!! , are his thoughts before they slowly threaten to disappear. He can't even bring her to safety like all the other survivors in the village. Tears of despair and pain are flowing now. But one thing she has to know at least. An inaudible, weak "I love you!" comes over his lips and then he loses consciousness and closes his eyes.
Sarada stands stunned, unable to believe what her childhood friend and self-chosen brother has been capable of. Boruto looks at her coldly, his jogan bears a strong resemblance to that of a full moon and the sclera is black as night. His left eye is closed all the way through their fight, "don't worry he's not dead yet and he will serve as a sacrifice as befits an Ootsutsuki," he says in that creepy voice she's heard before a few years ago after the fight against Boro and her last meeting with him.. With Kawaki on his right shoulder and his other free hand holding the Karma mark, he opens a dimensional gate and disappears with his foster brother. Crying, Sarada yells after both of them, "KAWAKI!!!! BORUTO!!!!” and unintentionally activates the Amarterasu and does with a blast a conflagration that gets worse by the second. The beginning of the rain wipes away her blood-red tears. At the same time, her Byakugou Seal activates and black tattoos, like lines, spread across her body, absorbing the Mangekyo Sharingan's damage. Sarada's appearance now resembles her mother even more.
" Mitsuki !!! Team 10!!! We have to get out of here! Hurry up !!!" Sasuke yells at Orochimaru's artificially created humans and Team 10. Dazed, Mitsuki looks at the spot where his sun was and cannot understand what has become of the happy and lovable boy with the ocean blue eyes. He ignores Sasuke's command.
Sasuke roughly grabs his shoulder, "if her flames hit us, we're done and we can never stop the Infinite Tsukuyomi!" he yells at him. Mitsuki still stands there motionless, the shock and his despair about what happened is too deep.
"I'll take care of him!", Chocho says bravely and carelessly carries Mitsuki in her arms like a bride and starts running to escape Sarada's flames. Mitsuki can't say much about Chocho's action either and turns a little bit red on his cheek.
"Really now, Chocho? Here??? At that moment??? ” , Inojin comments sarcastically. Chocho sticks her tongue out at her teammate. Shikadai is just annoyed by the scenery and at the same time worried that everyone will make it, "stop arguing. Both of it! This is not the right time. You guys are really annoying sometimes..."
After both teams have made their way to safety, they assess the situation. Mitsuki reacts startled by Chocho's impulsive actions, but slowly regained his composure. Everyone looks in Sarada's direction, horrified and concerned.
"She awakened her Mangekyo Sharingan," Sasuke observes his daughter and he is infinitely sorry that he can't hug her now. He knows her pain all too well. But he can't get near her without getting burned himself. Sarada could heal his wounds with her medicine jutsu's, but their time would be wasted if Sarada also has to take care of his burn wounds, so they have no choice but to wait.
" WHAT? That can't be... She hasn't even been able to awaken her third Tomoe yet. This can't be real," Shikadai says in amazement, and everyone watches as Sarada slowly regains his composure.
" And still, that's the way it is. There is only one case in my extinct clan that this development also happened to. Sarada bears some similarities to her deceased relative..." Sasuke explains.
"Obito Uchiha," Mitsuki replies calmly. Sasuke looks at Sarada's teammate in amazement, but ultimately doesn't surprise him. He is Orochimaru's vessel and ultimately well connected. "Right!" Sasuke replies with a serious look.
"Never does Sarada have anything in common with this psychopath! My dad told me all about the war 20 years ago. That can't be!“, Chocho replies angrily.
From a safe distance they watch Sarada. The power of her Amarterasu has become immense, as can be seen from the conflagration that is still spreading, although not at the same rate.
Sasuke is aware that he has to help her for her sake and also because they don't have much time left. At any time he expects the appearance of the 10-tailed beast or equal to the devine tree . He also is stunned at what his former student is capable of. There is no turning back for everyone. " SARADA! My little peanut. You need to calm down and I understand your pain all too well. You have to remember what you promised me years ago. We must stop Boruto now. We don't have much time left!!!” he yells at his daughter. Thankfully, Sarada responds to her father and looks over at him. She can see him clearly even though he is far away and his voice is barely audible.
A little reassured that Sarada is responding to him, he explains to her how to disable the Amarterasu flames and she can clear a path. Eventually she meets the rest of her group and they confer one last time.
" Mitsuki? Are you on mine and my fathers side? ', Sarada looks seriously at her friend, who had always been a loyal adviser to her in the past. She knows that Boruto is more than just a comrade and friend to Mitsuki and always felt like the third wheel between the two boys on the car. As if she sometimes doesn't belong or even interferes. She remembers an argument in which both parties went their separate ways full of worry and anger.
The artificial human's golden-yellow eyes have never been so dark with sorrow. This is one of the few moments in which she can recognize true and deep emotions in the otherwise expressionless face. His usually mischievous grin, which she knows very well, is now full of sadness.
"I'm coming with you!" he says with a trembling voice. " Mitsuki!" Sarada says softly, tears forming in her eyes again, clear ones this time. "Don't think I'm doing it for Kawaki!", he says to her seriously and meets her eyes with a steady look, "I haven't forgotten and not forgave him what Kawaki did to Boruto back then. I'm doing it for my sun (Sarada knows Mitsuki's nickname for Boruto) and I don't want him to be alone in the last moments of his life." Sarada nods in confirmation of his answer.
Now or never. That's how it's always been between Team 7. Decisions always have to be made and the resulting consequences have to be borne. Be it the war between the Funato clan and Kirigakure or the incident with Boruto and Kawaki just over three years ago. But there is no longer an alternative for everyone. So many have already died and they shall not have died in vain. Boruto must be stopped.
" Are you ready? We don't have much time, you two!" Sasuke says impatiently.
"How do we get to Boruto?" Mitsuki asks in a doubtful voice. This fact poses a problem. Sasuke remembers where the 10 Tails is, but his Rinnegan was destroyed by Boruto years ago and he can't get them there, and Sarada doesn't know the coordinates. On top of that, she struggles with her PTSD, which she developed 3 years ago after the destruction of Konoha, and refuses to use Rinnegan to her advantage and at top of that, she didn't developed her Mangekyo Sharingan. A hopeless situation for everyone and waiting for the 10-tailed one, including the devine tree , is not an option... It is hopeless....
"I know where the beast is..." Sarada says in a monotonous voice, remembering the Jūbi's marrow-filled scream that shook her bones back then. She has seen it once and wants to erase this disgusting beast from her mind. "Sarada..." Sasuke says, stunned. Did she activate it a long time ago? When? " I... I couldn't talk about it... . Didn't want to remind myself, I was too scared of this cruel creature and what event it's connected to,” she looks away, explaining seriously. "I've only seen it once and I wish I could forget the sight of the beast..." she says with a trembling voice. She clearly remembers Boruto's words and holds her left hand to her chest in pain. "He will serve as a sacrifice as befits an Otsutki..." were Boruto's words. It hurts so bad. It's choking me to breathe, she thinks. Why didn't he let me protect him? Damn idiot!!! "We should quickly discuss our situation again. Once we're over there, we won't have time for that," Shikadai suggests. The younger ones nod in confirmation. "I'll take Boruto..." Sasuke says firmly. "Dad..." Sarada replies in fear. Her father definitely shakes his head, "The younger generation must survive with all their might. Team 10 staying behind alone is also not an option. We will need every helping hand and by the time the Jūbi gets to Konoha it will be too late for everyone here.” He looks around calmly and his eyes remain calm on Mitsuki and Team 10, "You all serve as a distraction, don't interfere in the fight. If possible, use as little jutsus that Boruto can absorb with his Karma mark to recharge his chakra reserves. I'll take care of Boruto." Then his gaze wanders to Sarada, "Your task will be the hardest. Get us all safely over to the other side, then look out for Kawaki. Don't let him be sacrificed."
"What happens if we're late?" asks Chocho unnecessarily. Inojin hits her ribs with his elbow. Both brawlers look at each other poisonously, some things probably never change.
"Well then we're all going to die and our planet with it," Sasuke comments dryly.
But brooding over it doesn't help anyone, so Sarada opens the dimensional gate to the Jūbi. "Whatever awaits us on the other side. Please be careful! I don't want to lose anyone anymore," she says thoughtfully and looks straight into the goal just so her teammates don't see her tears. Take care of us, Mom! , are her last thoughts and Sasuke and the fellow younger generation travel to the other side where ultimately the end of the world await for them.

“We need to talk, Ella.”
That was the last thing Alex ever said to me.
Five years ago, via text, before he cut me out of his life.
Now he wasn't answering his fucking phone.
“Hey, you've reached Alex!”
I met Alex Locke in the fifth grade.
I suffered from chronic headaches as a kid, and Alex lost time a lot, sometimes blanking out whole days. According to Alex, it was like being switched off.
Due to his condition, the boy fell asleep a lot, sometimes tumbling down the stairs during his episodes, which meant he was always in the nurse’s office with a head injury, or curled into a ball snoozing. I wasn't as sick as Alex, but I liked to sleep off my headaches in the nurse’s office and would wake to Alex playing Pokémon on the bed next to mine.
Other times, he would be sitting on the observation bed with his knees drawn to his chest. Alex wasn't a fan of shots.
I discovered that when I was torn from a headache induced sleep to his blood curdling wails.
I thought for sure he was dying, until I glimpsed the shot in Nurse Golding’s hand. Initially, I wasn't surprised the kid was screaming, she was trying to stab the thing into the back of his head.
Though, after reassuring me it was part of Alex’s treatment, she calmly told me to distract the boy while she administered his daily shot.
I panicked and attempted a puppet show with my hands. Alex was so confused by whatever I was trying to do, he stopped screaming, frowning at me like I had grown a second limb.
It worked! Kind of. Nurse Golding was ruffling his hair and calling him brave, when Alex’s eyes widened, his hand going to the back of his head. He started wailing again, but this time I was pretty sure it was for attention.
Alex definitely had his eyes on the tub of candy the nurse kept on her top shelf.
Alex made me feel better about my headaches. I found his company comforting, and we became sick-buddies. Sometimes, his other friends would slip into the nurse’s office to prod him and tease him, and I felt a little left out. The two of them paid no attention to me, focusing on annoying Alex.
Growing up, we both got progressively better. Alex’s episodes decreased to one a month, and my headaches were easier to tolerate. The two of us still ended up in the nurse’s office, but for different reasons. I accidentally shoved a needle through my finger during arts and crafts, and was too shocked to cry.
Alex had fallen over during gym, and had the tiniest scratch on his leg, which set off the waterworks.
When Nurse Golding was trying to rip the needle out of my finger with tweezers, Alex was demanding she replaced his bandaid.
Starting middle school, the two of us came face to face with Nurse Jane.
She was terrifying, as well as completely incompetent. There was no candy in her office, and her solution to a girl in my class breaking her arm, was “Put a wet piece of tissue paper on it”
Alex tried the, I'm sooo sick! thing, and Nurse Jane spent half an hour lecturing him about healthy food.
He returned to class miraculously cured, looking paler than he did before visiting her.
Neither of us dared enter Nurse Jane’s office, unless we were really sick.
We were ten when Alex threw a ball of paper at me, hitting me in the face.
I was about to throw it back, when the boy twisted around in his seat and motioned for me to unravel the paper.
He had scribbled a funny picture of Nurse Jane being blown up into a balloon.
Underneath, written in bright red crayon:
DO YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH US?
YES [ ]
NO [ ]
At first, I was hesitant.
I told him I'd think about it, so he came straight to my house himself.
I didn't even know he knew my address.
“Why don't you want to play?” Alex asked through a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies. Mom had given him a plate to take up to my room.
Hiding behind him were his two friends, Lucy Conrad, a curly haired brunette with ribbons in her pigtails, and Ki Jacobs, the foreign exchange kid from Australia. The three of them already seemed like a tight knit group in class, sending each other notes and giggling.
I wasn't sure I wanted to be the odd one out in their little gang.
Still though, Alex was insistent that I join them.
So, I did. The three invited me to the town’s summer festival, and I had so much fun I forgot why I was scared of ruining their friendship. Ki choked on his Coke float, which shouldn't have been funny, but it was his over-reaction that sold me. The rest was history.
Initially, I was kind of hesitant, only hanging out with them on select days, making sure not to be too invasive.
Mom warned me that joining an already established friendship group was dangerous, on account of me potentially being left out. She had horror stories from her own teenagehood, where she was the fourth member in a group of girls, who turned on her for their own entertainment, inviting her to slumber parties for the sole purpose of bullying her.
But that wasn't what we were. Mom’s warning scared me and I waited for Alex to start teasing me about my big nose, or my overly large front tooth.
He didn't even notice my tooth until I told him, so he opened his mouth and prodded at his own molars, teasingly calling them horse teeth. Alex said he didn't care what I looked like.
Eventually, the barriers I had built began to crumble, and I started to see these kids as real, proper friends.
I was invited to play every day, the four of us venturing across town to swim in the lake or hunt for buried treasure with a map Ki definitely didn't print off of Google. Mom was wrong.
I was never left out. If I didn't turn up to our secret spot in the forest, the three of them would walk straight through my front door— and when I was a little older, Alex grew brave, climbing through my bedroom window, dragging me out of bed himself. When I was sick with the flu, the three insisted on sitting with me (keeping a safe distance) and watching Disney movies with me all day.
They all got sick too, so eventually, the three crawled into bed with me.
With my Mom’s words still haunting the back of my mind, part of me expected them to blow me off one day.
In the summer before seventh grade, Ki invited me, along with the others, to his parent’s house in Thailand.
I think that is when it started to hit me.
The four of us getting stupidly drunk and lying on the beach, exchanging ghost stories that weren't remotely scary, sending us into fits of hysteria.
This wasn't whatever Mom talked about. I don't think Mom had friends.
This was best friends.
Entering teenagehood, we made that declaration, on my fifteenth birthday, drinking milkshakes at the diner and trying to hide our tipsy giggles from the booze Ki had taken from his father’s drinks cabinet. We went skinny dipping in the lake, and I had my first kiss.
I went to summer camp, returning to town three weeks later, not to my mother (who had forgotten I was coming home) but to my three idiot friends who made me promise I would never leave for camp ever again.
I wasn't planning on it. The other kids called me Wobbly Legs because I couldn't balance on the tree swing, and two campers were suspended for inappropriate behavior in the lake.
Mom and Dad treated the others like their own children, even giving them each a house key (so Alex didn't have to brave tumbling through my window).
He hit his head once, knocking the back of his skull on my new makeup table, and my Mother almost had a panic attack.
This didn't stop him, though.
I think my best friend had grown accustomed to slipping through my window at midnight, armed with a flashlight and my favorite candy bars.
I thought we were going to last forever, until we were old, reminiscing our childhoods under a late setting sun.
But that wasn't the real world.
Halfway through my senior year, I lost my parents to a seventeen year old drunk driver.
Jason Chatham, who already went to juvie for intentionally running over a cat, was the mayor’s son, so Jason got a reduced sentence and four weeks of community service. He gave me a bullshit ‘apology’ and was forced to beg for forgiveness, despite the fucker smirking through the whole court trial.
Jason was sent abroad to college, and my parents’ funeral wasn't even an open casket.
Apparently, there wasn't much left to bury. I couldn't even afford the fucking funeral, it was the town that paid.
I had no other relatives. There was just me, Mom, and Dad.
Alex, Lucy, and Ki stayed by my side the whole time, but I barely talked to them. I was numb, my body felt detached and wrong, like it didn't exist.
Time moved far too slowly. I was burying my parents, a shovel stuck in my clammy hands, and then it was pitch black, and I was sitting in a random alleyway, my head spinning, halfway through a bottle of whisky.
It tasted like poison, but it also stopped me thinking for a while.
Alex found me, still in his funeral attire. I wasn't sure why he had his tie wrapped around his head, though. He didn't hug me or tell me it was going to be okay.
Alex snatched the booze, took a long swig, and then threw it over his shoulder. I don't know why I found the sound of the bottle splintering on the ground so funny, but I burst into hysterical giggles that felt real and a relief. I didn't cry like I expected.
I stood up, throwing out my arms to keep my balance.
“You're a loser.” I told him, trying not to slur my words.
Alex nodded at my dress. Lit up in the glow of a nearby streetlight, I realized my best friend’s eyes were red from crying, his lip wobbling. The idiot was trying so fucking hard to pretend we were okay, and failing miserably.
His blondish brown curls were sticking up everywhere.
I could tell he had been running his hands through it.
Alex was far too empathetic, sucking up my emotions.
“And you're covered in barf.”
His voice was shaking, but Alex was still smiling.
He held his hand out for me to grab, and I hesitated, just like when I was a little kid. But I needed him. I knew that, even in my unstable mind full of black and white and a slowly spreading numbness threatening to swallow me whole. Mom and Dad were gone, and he was all I had.
The town would go back to their day-to-day lives, and I would break apart. I considered following them in a brief episode of psychosis. The only people who could pull my head from the fog were my friends. So, I grabbed Alex’s hand, clinging onto him for dear life like I was going to lose him too.
I expected the whole, I'm so sorry for your loss bullshit I had been suffocating in all day, but Alex talked about birds instead. I don't know why, and it's not like he was making any sense, trying to unsuccessfully name different kinds.
But it was enough.
Alex’s stupid rant about birds distracted me from drowning myself in poison.
He took me back to his place, ordered my favorite pizza, and pretended I didn't just lose my parents.
Ki and Lucy joined us, and at first it was awkward and I was still drunk, still demanding he give me back my whisky.
Then, though, the night devolved into our usual antics, and for the first time since my parent’s death, I was laughing.
That night ended however, and once the hysteria had died down and my hangover was gone, reality hit like a wave of ice water. The world bled into black and white, and not even pills could help, so shut myself away.
I finished my senior year with my diploma sitting in my mailbox with a letter from the school expressing how sorry they were for my loss. I tore it up, setting fire to the remnants. I was so fucking SICK of sorry. The word condolences didn't even sound real anymore.
Leaving town seemed like the best idea for a fresh start. The night before I left, I crept through Alex’s bedroom window.
I did tell him and the others I needed space, drunkenly shouting at them to leave me alone when they found me sleeping in our old childhood tree house. That night, I woke him up, wrapping my arms around him and thanking him for being my friend.
Alex was half asleep, mumbling at me to join him, and I did, keeping a tight hold of him all night.
It was supposed to be a goodbye. I wasn't planning on coming back to a town that had murdered my parents.
And protected their killer.
But it's hard to say a real goodbye.
When I left for college, Alex and the others promised they would text and call every day. Lucy expected daily updates, and Ki was obsessed with my roommate's secret hamster she was hiding under her bed.
We stayed in touch, initially.
I couldn't just let them go. I was planning on inviting them for drinks, and having one last memory.
I facetimed them during the campus tour, showing them my room and exploring the city.
I was waiting to declare some kind of friendship ending speech, but, I guess moving away was a natural killer.
I started ignoring calls, responding in one word answers to their texts.
Two months into college, I had new friends, new experiences, and I wasn't the girl who's parents died.
Alex proposed in a long paragraph text that they come visit and stay in my room, and I had to keep making excuses as to why it was a bad idea.
Listen, I was the bad friend.
I know that now. I don't blame them for being pissed, but ignoring me for five (5) years was taking it too far.
Presently, I had called Alex a grand total of 35 times.
He wasn't picking up the phone, and I was left to a robot voice telling me to leave a message, after Alex’s voice from five years ago called me a donut.
“Hey, you've reached Alex! Don't expect me to answer the phone. It's not 1993. Just text me!”
Which was ironic considering my texts weren't being delivered.
I had zero choice but to go down the boomer route.
Initially, I knew what I was going to say and how I was going to say it, but by the fifth attempt, my voice was shaking.
“Hey, me again.” I said through gritted teeth, kicking through leaves. “You probably didn't get my last, uh, thirty four calls, because you're busy, or…whatever…”
I trailed off, clenching my phone tighter.
“Anyway! How have you been? Uh, we’re both adults now, but I figured we should maybe, uhhh, talk… maybe?”
Alex was surely ignoring me.
Again, I didn't blame him. We were adults with our own lives. The problem was, I had zero idea what Alex had been doing the last five years because he was MIA. Alex’s social media hadn't been updated in years, and I was pretty sure he'd just made new ones.
The same went for Ki and Lucy.
His last text, (We need to talk) didn't even make sense without a follow up, and now I was back home in a town I didn't want to be in, stuck in a dead end job I hated, trying to pick up the splintered pieces.
I was aware of my colleague yelling my name, dropping my cigarette and stomping on the cinders. “I really need to talk to you,” I didn't realize I was crying until I was swiping at my eyes.
Sometimes, life doesn't always work out the way you planned it.
“I know it's been a while since you uh, stopped texting me or whatever…” I let out a choked cough. “Which is my fault, by the way,” my chest was aching,
“But I've actually come home!” I tried to laugh, but it was more of a sob. “Yeah, it turns out NY wasn't really my scene.”
That was a lie, though Alex was probably used to me lying.
Sometimes, life doesn't work out.
After graduating college, I was offered a job in New York, only for it all to fall through when depression hit. The world turned black and white, and I rotted in bed all day. I quit my part time job, packed up my stuff, and came home.
I had been staying in the motel on the edge of town for a while, planning to move back into my parents house.
But knowing my friends were still in town, and intentionally ignoring me, I was taking my time.
I wanted to hear his voice.
Five years was a long time.
“I'm staying at my parents' old house, so maybe come see me sometime?” I blurted out, studying the sky above me.
Cotton candy clouds we used to pretend to eat.
“You've still got the key my Mom gave you, right?”
It was unusually cold for April. I had to keep pulling my jacket around me.
“Alex, I really fucking miss you.” I whispered. I wanted to tell him that I needed him, just like when I was seventeen. That he was the only thing keeping me afloat. “I miss you, Ki, and Lucy, so call me, okay?” I paused. “I know you're mad, but we can talk it out, all right? Just text me, and I'll be there.”
“Eleanor.” My colleague was grumbling behind me, “Your break is over.”
I tapped my screen impatiently. “I’m coming,” I said, “Alex, I've got to go, all right? Call me when you get this.”
When the line went dead, I shoved my phone in my pocket and resumed selling coffee to dead eyed customers.
I recognised Mrs Morris, the lady who lived opposite Mom and Dad. She offered me a smile, but her eyes were so sad.
I could practically sense her knee-jerk reaction to say, I'm sorry for your loss.
I handed the woman her usual, a black coffee, trying to ignore the way she clasped her wrinkly hands around mine, squeezing for dear life.
Maybe her husband died….
“Have you seen Alex anywhere?” I asked, wiping down the counter.
The woman's expression crumpled. “I'm sorry, who, dear?”
“Alex.” I said, “Alex Locke? You used to give us candy when we were kids.”
Mes Morris inclined her head. There was something odd about her expression. “Oh, the Locke’s moved away a long time ago,” she hummed, “I haven't seen them in years, tweety pie.”
The nickname brought back memories. Mrs Morris used to call me Tweety Pie.
I nodded, pouring her a refill. “Is Alex still in town, though?”
“Hm?”
“Alex.” I said, growing slightly impatient, “Their son, Alex Locke?”
Her eyes darkened, suddenly hollow, like I was talking to a memory. She was looking straight through me like we were back at my parent’s funeral. Mrs Morris wore a rose in my Mom’s honor.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said softly, “It was… so terrible what happened,” her expression seemed to twitch, and a shiver creeped down my spine. “God rest their beautiful souls.”
I had grown accustomed to tuning out condolences.
“Yes, I miss them,” I said dismissively, leaning over the counter. “But have you seen Alex? What about Ki and Lucy? I've been in town for a while, but I can't get in touch with them.”
Instead of answering, the corners of her mouth curved into a small smile. “You look so much like your mother, Eleanor.”
“Thanks.” I gave up, forcing a smile.
“Eleanor.” her face crumpled, “Such a bright young girl.”
My stomach knotted. “No, Mrs Morris, you mean my Mom.”
She blinked, sipping her coffee. “Hm? Oh, yes, yes! My condolences!”
I got the same response from patrons I used to know.
Townspeople blatantly ignoring my question, throwing me a fucking pity party for a loss I hadn't exactly gotten over, but over time, the pain was getting easier to deal with.
Grief never leaves you, but time can force you to move forwards instead of dwelling on the past.
Halfway through my shift, my colleague plonked a basket of flowers on the counter, where I was trying and failing to perfect a foam heart for a teenage girl who was definitely judging my ‘art’ skills.
The basket of flowers was full of roses, my mother’s favorite.
Alex planted them in her yard when we were thirteen, surprising her for her birthday. There was a little card attached to the flowers, and I ripped it off, my heart beating out of my chest.
To my dismay, though, it wasn't Alex’s handwriting.
Unless Alex had taken up calligraphy in his five year absence.
Eleanor,
I'm so happy to see you again in town! I hope you like the flowers. I know they were your sweet late mother’s favorite. I have left a surprise for you inside your parents house. It's not a lot, of course, but I want you to know you are never alone, sweetheart. I will always be here.
Enjoy your surprise. You will never be alone again.
With so much love, and much needed hugs.
A friend.
“Who sent this?” I asked, re-reading the note. To my confusion, there was a box of headache pills. I hadn't suffered from headaches since I was a kid, but it was when I was sliding my fingers over the box, a dull thrum pounded across the back of my skull. I trashed the pills, dumping the basket in my work locker.
My colleague shrugged. “I dunno. Someone left it on one of the tables.”
“So, it wasn't a guy?” I said, gingerly rubbing my forehead.
He shrugged. “I don't know what they looked like, I didn't even see someone coming in.”
That night, following the note’s instructions, I returned home to an empty house, letters for repossession piled on the floor.
I broke down somewhere between walking into the kitchen and seeing five year old milk sitting on the counter, and exploring my childhood room, the marks I scratched into the wall to track my height progress. It was so cold.
So empty.
Without Mom and Dad, there was no light.
The house was just one dark, empty memory of what had been. Switching on the lights, I tried to make it at least a little homely. I ordered pizza and ate it staring at my phone, waiting for a text from Alex. When my phone did vibrate, I almost jumped out of my skin.
Just the Uber Eats guy requesting a tip, which I'm pretty sure wasn't allowed.
I was unpacking in my room when a voice came from downstairs.
“Ella! Holy shit, you didn't tell us you were coming home!”
Alex.
The crumpled pair of pants I had been folding slipped out of my hands.
I felt like I couldn't breathe, stumbling downstairs.
His voice sent pinpricks through me.
“Alex?”
The hallway was empty, a chill grazing my cheeks.
“Ella! I'm so glad you're home! Don't ever go away again!”
I froze.
“Where are you?” I managed to get out.
“We’re down here!”
The voice was coming from the basement.
It was when I was slowly making my way down the stairs, my phone vibrated with a text. I was reaching for it, when it vibrated again, and again, and again, buzzing in my pocket.
Pulling it out, I found myself staring at a multitude of text messages.
05/07/2019: We need to talk, Ella. Did you get my last text?
05/07/2019: I've been feeling weird lately. Like I did as a kid. I keep switching off, Ella. There's something wrong. I don't know what it is, but we need you here.
05/07/2019: Ella, please. The cops are brushing us off, but there's something going on. We need you here. NOW.
05/13/2019: Can you call your local sheriff department? Anyone?! STOP IGNORING MY CALLS!
05/16/2019: Ella, you're fucking killing me. Do you not care? Are you really going to abandon us?
05/16/2019: Ella, are you there? I'm really cold.
05/16/2019: It's dark.
05/16/2019: It's so dark, I can't see I don't understand what's happening Please can you come and help me? I'm so cold and it's dark and I can't can't I need you to take me home Ella please
06/05/2020: I like that you're so close to me. It's not cold when you're here.
06/05/2020: Sshshhh! She's coming! Act natural Sit up straight No, not like that Like this!
06/05/2020: wait where did you go? Ella where did you go Ella where did you go Ella where did you go Ella
For a moment, I was hypnotised by the texts, my hands trembling.
Alex did send follow up messages.
But I never got them.
“Ella, we’re wait... ING. Come on, we’ve missed you so much!”
Alex’s voice should have made me happy.
But I recognised it, phantom bugs creeping down the exposed flesh of my arms and filling my mouth.
Prom night, junior year.
He was standing at the bottom of my stairs wearing a suit and tie. Ella, we’re waiting!” was from that night.
When my phone flashed again, I ignored it, forcing my legs to move down the stairs.
My basement was exactly how I left it, a mess of boxes and my old bike.
Except, sitting in the corner were three figures drowned in shadow. There was a light, something illuminating the dim.
But I was already stumbling over to my friends, who looked exactly the way I left them, frozen at eighteen years old.
Their skin was pale, papery thin and wrong.
“There… you… are!”
Alex lifted his head, half lidded eyes finding mine. “Aren't… you… happy to see… us?”
His lips were barely moving. I glimpsed the start of decomposition melting into his face, eating away at his flesh, tiny holes where maggots had burrowed inside him. His hair was matted with old blood, where someone had tried and failed, and then tried again to violently force a device inside his head, long orange wires sticking from his spine.
I could see where he'd struggled, rusted handcuffs still coiled around his wrists, an unnatural light illuminating his iris.
Something warm crept up my throat.
The glow illuminating the room was emanating from his eyes. I could see straight through him, his body more of a science experiment where his skull had been forced open, an electronic device woven inside the dead flesh of his brain.
Whoever did this to him saw Alex as nothing more than arts and crafts, flesh and bone to cruelly mould.
I was too numb to scream, my body stiff.
He lifted his head, blinking at me, like he was still alive.
“Fi…nally,” he choked through a mouthful of oozing black, “You're…home.”
I knew his voice that had been cruelly stitched and knitted together.
He greeted me when I came back from summer camp with the exact words.
“Finally!” Alex had cried, wrapping his arms around me. “You're hOme!”
I could hear where his words had been cut and sliced, glued to each other to sound like a coherent fucking sentence.
“I've… been… wAiting for… you.”
The boy’s lips stretched into a grin. “For… you… tO see yoUR… big… sur…prise!”
Every word had been handpicked directly from his memories.
I took slow steps back, tripping over something on the ground.
A Macbook.
There was a sticky note attached.
Here's another surprise! There's a USB wire on the floor somewhere, sweetie! I forgot to update them, so feel free! I hope you enjoy your surprise as much as I enjoyed making them!
Feeling sick to my stomach, I switched the laptop on.
The USB was across the room. I could see the end stained vivid scarlet.
There were three folders.
2019.
2020.
2021.
There was another separate folder.
2007.
I clicked into it, a list of names coming up.
I was loading into Alex’s name, when Lucy spoke.
“What… are… you… waiting… for?”
Her giggle was half human, and half not, a crackle of laughter and static.
I knew her voice, and it fucking hurt.
My 12th birthday, Lucy stood at the table in front of a giant chocolate cake. “What are you waiting for?” she teased. “Blow out your candles!”
When she did lift her head, my best friend’s face was bruised and battered.
Ki’s grinning lips were skeletal, his head split in two, held together with duct tape. The way he was slumped, swaying back and forth, his head of thick curls glued to his head, made me sick to my stomach.
“UPDATE…us.”
Ki’s words had been ripped straight from years ago, when he yelled at me for annoying him to play Minecraft.
My computer is UPDATING! Jeez, be patient!”
Whoever did this to them made my friends suffer.
I cupped Alex’s cheeks, and his skin was ice-cold.
“Who did this to you?”
He responded with a smile.
“Not…telling...y–”
”I'm not telling you!” I remembered his tone from back in school. I begged him for answers to the chemistry test.
It was like talking to not just a corpse, but the corpse of a memory too.
I pulled out my phone to call the cops, when my phone flashed again.
Unknown number
Update them! I can assure you, if you don't, I will happily add you to my collection, Eleanor. This time I won't let you go. Check the second folder.
They were watching me.
I glimpsed a single red light blinking on the ceiling.
Taking the laptop, I left my friends, and called the cops.
“No, that's not how this is going to go.”
The voice was sugary sweet through my phone, intercepting the call.
I recognised her.
Nurse Golding, from Kindergarten.
“Update your friends,” she told me in a shrill laugh, “I made them very specially for you, Eleanor. I worked tirelessly, every day and night to make sure you came back to your friends.”
She paused.
“You're not lonely anymore, are you? Of course, if you don't want to be grateful, I can always revert you back–”
I ended the call, throwing up everywhere.
Somehow, I found myself back in the basement, my breaths heavy.
I planned to destroy the laptop, and set fire to the house, when something caught my eye.
I didn't notice until I was fully looking at my friends.
There were three of them, and four chairs against the wall.
Four rusted handcuffs.
I think I've been here before, but how? When?
How can I not remember it?
I keep thinking back to my childhood. Alex was losing time.
Is that what happened to me?
Edit: since writing the above, six townspeople have told me to update my friends. All of them are the older residents in the diner. I keep coming down here, but I can't fucking do it.
I can't do this.
The USB goes directly inside their heads. How does this thing even work?!
Please help me. Can this be reversed? What did Alex’s texts mean?
I don't know what to do!

When I was a child, there was a story about a dragon becoming a cat called the Dragon Tamers by Edith Nesbit, so here it is.
There was once an old, old castle--it was so old that its walls and towers and turrets and gateways and arches had crumbled to ruins, and of all its old splendor there were only two little rooms left; and it was here that John the blacksmith had set up his forge. He was too poor to live in a proper house, and no one asked any rent for the rooms in the ruin, because all the lords of the castle were dead and gone this many a year. So there John blew his bellows and hammered his iron and did all the work which came his way. This was not much, because most of the trade went to the mayor of the town, who was also a blacksmith in quite a large way of business, and had his huge forge facing the square of the town, and had twelve apprentices, all hammering like a nest of woodpeckers, and twelve journeymen to order the apprentices about, and a patent forge and a self-acting hammer and electric bellows, and all things handsome about him. So of course the townspeople, whenever they wanted a horse shod or a shaft mended, went to the mayor. John the blacksmith struggled on as best he could, with a few odd jobs from travelers and strangers who did not know what a superior forge the mayor's was. The two rooms were warm and weather-tight, but not very large; so the blacksmith got into the way of keeping his old iron, his odds and ends, his fagots, and his twopence worth of coal in the great dungeon down under the castle. It was a very fine dungeon indeed, with a handsome vaulted roof and big iron rings whose staples were built into the wall, very strong and convenient for tying captives to, and at one end was a broken flight of wide steps leading down no one knew where. Even the lords of the castle in the good old times had never known where those steps led to, but every now and then they would kick a prisoner down the steps in their lighthearted, hopeful way, and sure enough, the prisoners never came back. The blacksmith had never dared to go beyond the seventh step, and no more have I--so I know no more than he did what was at the bottom of those stairs.
John the blacksmith had a wife and a little baby. When his wife was not doing the housework she used to nurse the baby and cry, remembering the happy days when she lived with her father, who kept seventeen cows and lived quite in the country, and when John used to come courting her in the summer evenings, as smart as smart, with a posy in his buttonhole. And now John's hair was getting gray, and there was hardly ever enough to eat.
As for the baby, it cried a good deal at odd times; but at night, when its mother had settled down to sleep, it would always begin to cry, quite as a matter of course, so that she hardly got any rest at all. This made her very tired.
The baby could make up for its bad nights during the day if it liked, but the poor mother couldn't. So whenever she had nothing to do she used to sit and cry, because she was tired out with work and worry.
One evening the blacksmith was busy with his forge. He was making a goat-shoe for the goat of a very rich lady, who wished to see how the goat liked being shod, and also whether the shoe would come to fivepence or sevenpence before she ordered the whole set. This was the only order John had had that week. And as he worked his wife sat and nursed the baby, who, for a wonder, was not crying.
Presently, over the noise of the bellows and over the clank of the iron, there came another sound. The blacksmith and his wife looked at each other.
"I heard nothing," said he.
"Neither did I," said she.
But the noise grew louder--and the two were so anxious not to hear it that he hammered away at the goat-shoe harder than he had ever hammered in his life, and she began to sing to the baby--a thing she had not had the heart to do for weeks.
But through the blowing and hammering and singing the noise came louder and louder, and the more they tried not to hear it, the more they had to. It was like the noise of some great creature purring, purring, purring--and the reason they did not want to believe they really heard it was that it came from the great dungeon down below, where the old iron was, and the firewood and the twopence worth of coal, and the broken steps that went down into the dark and ended no one knew where.
"It can't be anything in the dungeon," said the blacksmith, wiping his face. "Why, I shall have to go down there after more coals in a minute."
"There isn't anything there, of course. How could there be?" said his wife. And they tried so hard to believe that there could be nothing there that presently they very nearly did believe it.
Then the blacksmith took his shovel in one hand and his riveting hammer in the other, and hung the old stable lantern on his little finger, and went down to get the coals.
"I am not taking the hammer because I think there is something there," said he, "but it is handy for breaking the large lumps of coal."
"I quite understand," said his wife, who had brought the coal home in her apron that very afternoon, and knew that it was all coal dust.
So he went down the winding stairs to the dungeon and stood at the bottom of the steps, holding the lantern above his head just to see that the dungeon really was empty, as usual. Half of it was empty as usual, except for the old iron and odds and ends, and the firewood and the coals. But the other side was not empty. It was quite full, and what it was full of was Dragon.
"It must have come up those nasty broken steps from goodness knows where," said the blacksmith to himself, trembling all over, as he tried to creep back up the winding stairs.
But the dragon was too quick for him--it put out a great claw and caught him by the leg, and as it moved it rattled like a great bunch of keys, or like the sheet iron they make thunder out of in pantomimes.
"No you don't," said the dragon in a spluttering voice, like a damp squib.
"Deary, deary me," said poor John, trembling more than ever in the claw of the dragon. "Here's a nice end for a respectable blacksmith!"
The dragon seemed very much struck by this remark.
"Do you mind saying that again?" said he, quite politely.
So John said again, very distinctly: "Here--is--a--nice--end--for--a--respectable--blacksmith."
"I didn't know," said the dragon. "Fancy now! You're the very man I wanted."
"So I understood you to say before," said John, his teeth chattering.
"Oh, I don't mean what you mean," said the dragon, "but I should like you to do a job for me. One of my wings has got some of the rivets out of it just above the joint. Could you put that to rights?"
"I might, sir," said John, politely, for you must always be polite to a possible customer, even if he be a dragon.
"A master craftsman--you are a master, of course?--can see in a minute what's wrong," the dragon went on. "Just come around here and feel my plates, will you?"
John timidly went around when the dragon took his claw away; and sure enough, the dragon's wing was hanging loose, and several of the plates near the joint certainly wanted riveting.
The dragon seemed to be made almost entirely of iron armor--a sort of tawny, red-rust color it was; from damp, no doubt--and under it he seemed to be covered with something furry.
All the blacksmith welled up in John's heart, and he felt more at ease.
"You could certainly do with a rivet or two, sir," said he. "In fact, you want a good many."
"Well, get to work, then," said the dragon. "You mend my wing, and then I'll go out and eat up all the town, and if you make a really smart job of it I'll eat you last. There!"
"I don't want to be eaten last, sir," said John.
"Well then, I'll eat you first," said the dragon.
"I don't want that, sir, either," said John.
"Go on with you, you silly man," said the dragon, "you don't know your own silly mind. Come, set to work."
"I don't like the job, sir," said John, "and that's the truth. I know how easily accidents happen. It's all fair and smooth, and 'Please rivet me, and I'll eat you last'--and then you get to work and you give a gentleman a bit of a nip or a dig under his rivets--and then it's fire and smoke, and no apologies will meet the case."
"Upon my word of honor as a dragon," said the other.
"I know you wouldn't do it on purpose, sir," said John, "but any gentleman will give a jump and a sniff if he's nipped, and one of your sniffs would be enough for me. Now, if you'd just let me fasten you up?"
"It would be so undignified," objected the dragon.
"We always fasten a horse up," said John, "and he's the 'noble animal.'"
"It's all very well," said the dragon, "but how do I know you'd untie me again when you'd riveted me? Give me something in pledge. What do you value most?"
"My hammer," said John. "A blacksmith is nothing without a hammer."
"But you'd want that for riveting me. You must think of something else, and at once, or I'll eat you first."
At this moment the baby in the room above began to scream. Its mother had been so quiet that it thought she had settled down for the night, and that it was time to begin.
"Whatever's that?" said the dragon, starting so that every plate on his body rattled.
"It's only the baby," said John.
"What's that?" asked the dragon. "Something you value?"
"Well, yes, sir, rather," said the blacksmith.
"Then bring it here," said the dragon, "and I'll take care of it till you've done riveting me, and you shall tie me up."
"All right, sir," said John, "but I ought to warn you. Babies are poison to dragons, so I don't deceive you. It's all right to touch--but don't you go putting it into your mouth. I shouldn't like to see any harm come to a nice-looking gentleman like you."
The dragon purred at this compliment and said: "All right, I'll be careful. Now go and fetch the thing, whatever it is."
So John ran up the steps as quickly as he could, for he knew that if the dragon got impatient before it was fastened, it could heave up the roof of the dungeon with one heave of its back, and kill them all in the ruins. His wife was asleep, in spite of the baby's cries; and John picked up the baby and took it down and put it between the dragon's front paws.
"You just purr to it, sir," he said, "and it'll be as good as gold."
So the dragon purred, and his purring pleased the baby so much that it stopped crying.
Then John rummaged among the heap of old iron and found there some heavy chains and a great collar that had been made in the days when men sang over their work and put their hearts into it, so that the things they made were strong enough to bear the weight of a thousand years, let alone a dragon.
John fastened the dragon up with the collar and the chains, and when he had padlocked them all on safely he set to work to find out how many rivets would be needed.
"Six, eight, ten--twenty, forty," said he. "I haven't half enough rivets in the shop. If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll step around to another forge and get a few dozen. I won't be a minute."
And off he went, leaving the baby between the dragon's fore-paws, laughing and crowing with pleasure at the very large purr of it.
John ran as hard as he could into the town, and found the mayor and corporation.
"There's a dragon in my dungeon," he said; "I've chained him up. Now come and help to get my baby away."
And he told them all about it.
But they all happened to have engagements for that evening; so they praised John's cleverness, and said they were quite content to leave the matter in his hands.
"But what about my baby?" said John.
"Oh, well," said the mayor, "if anything should happen, you will always be able to remember that your baby perished in a good cause."
So John went home again, and told his wife some of the tale.
"You've given the baby to the dragon!" she cried. "Oh, you unnatural parent!"
"Hush," said John, and he told her some more. "Now," he said, "I'm going down. After I've been down you can go, and if you keep your head the boy will be all right."
So down went the blacksmith, and there was the dragon purring away with all his might to keep the baby quiet.
"Hurry up, can't you?" he said. "I can't keep up this noise all night."
"I'm very sorry, sir," said the blacksmith, "but all the shops are shut. The job must wait till the morning. And don't forget you've promised to take care of that baby. You'll find it a little wearing, I'm afraid. Good night, sir."
The dragon had purred till he was quite out of breath--so now he stopped, and as soon as everything was quiet the baby thought everyone must have settled for the night, and that it was time to begin to scream. So it began.
"Oh, dear," said the dragon, "this is awful." He patted the baby with his claw, but it screamed more than ever.
"And I am so tired too," said the dragon. "I did so hope I should have a good night."
The baby went on screaming.
"There'll be no peace for me after this," said the dragon. "It's enough to ruin one's nerves. Hush, then--did 'ums, then." And he tried to quiet the baby as if it had been a young dragon. But when he began to sing "Hush-a-by, Dragon," the baby screamed more and more and more. "I can't keep it quiet," said the dragon; and then suddenly he saw a woman sitting on the steps. "Here, I say," said he, "do you know anything about babies?"
"I do, a little," said the mother.
"Then I wish you'd take this one, and let me get some sleep," said the dragon, yawning. "You can bring it back in the morning before the blacksmith comes."
So the mother picked up the baby and took it upstairs and told her husband, and they went to bed happy, for they had caught the dragon and saved the baby.
And next day John went down and explained carefully to the dragon exactly how matters stood, and he got an iron gate with a grating to it and set it up at the foot of the steps, and the dragon mewed furiously for days and days, but when he found it was no good he was quiet.
So now John went to the mayor, and said: "I've got the dragon and I've saved the town."
"Noble preserver," cried the mayor, "we will get up a subscription for you, and crown you in public with a laurel wreath."
So the mayor put his name down for five pounds, and the corporation each gave three, and other people gave their guineas and half guineas and half crowns and crowns, and while the subscription was being made the mayor ordered three poems at his own expense from the town poet to celebrate the occasion. The poems were very much more admired, especially by the mayor and corporation.
The first poem dealt with the noble conduct of the mayor in arranging to have the dragon tied up. The second described the splendid assistance rendered by the corporation. And the third expressed the pride and joy of the poet in being permitted to sing such deeds, beside which the actions of St. George must appear quite commonplace to all with a feeling heart or a well-balanced brain.
When the subscription was finished there was a thousand pounds, and a committee was formed to settle what should be done with it. A third of it went to pay for a banquet to the mayor and corporation; another third was spent in buying a gold collar with a dragon on it for the mayor and gold medals with dragons on them for the corporation; and what was left went in committee expenses.
So there was nothing for the blacksmith except the laurel wreath and the knowledge that it really was he who had saved the town. But after this things went a little better with the blacksmith. To begin with, the baby did not cry so much as it had before. Then the rich lady who owned the goat was so touched by John's noble action that she ordered a complete set of shoes at 2 shillings, 4 pence, and even made it up to 2 shillings, 6 pence, in grateful recognition of his public-spirited conduct. Then tourists used to come in breaks from quite a long way off, and pay twopence each to go down the steps and peep through the iron grating at the rusty dragon in the dungeon--and it was threepence extra for each party if the blacksmith let off colored fire to see it by, which, as the fire was extremely short, was twopence-halfpenny clear profit every time. And the blacksmith's wife used to provide teas at ninepence a head, and altogether things grew brighter week by week.
The baby--named John, after his father, and called Johnnie for short--began presently to grow up. He was great friends with Tina, the daughter of the whitesmith, who lived nearly opposite. She was a dear little girl with yellow pigtails and blue eyes, and she was tired of hearing the story of how Johnnie, when he was a baby, had been minded by a real dragon.
The two children used to go together to peep through the iron grating at the dragon, and sometimes they would hear him mew piteously. And they would light a halfpenny's worth of colored fire to look at him by. And they grew older and wiser.
At last one day the mayor and corporation, hunting the hare in their gold gowns, came screaming back to the town gates with the news that a lame, humpy giant, as big as a tin church, was coming over the marshes toward the town.
"We're lost," said the mayor. "I'd give a thousand pounds to anyone who could keep that giant out of the town. I know what he eats--by his teeth."
No one seemed to know what to do. But Johnnie and Tina were listening, and they looked at each other, and ran off as fast as their boots would carry them.
They ran through the forge, and down the dungeon steps, and knocked at the iron door. "Who's there?" said the dragon. "It's only us," said the children.
And the dragon was so dull from having been alone for ten years that he said: "Come in, dears."
"You won't hurt us, or breathe fire at us or anything?" asked Tina.
And the dragon said, "Not for worlds."
So they went in and talked to him, and told him what the weather was like outside, and what there was in the papers, and at last Johnnie said: "There's a lame giant in the town. He wants you."
"Does he?" said the dragon, showing his teeth. "If only I were out of this!"
"If we let you loose you might manage to run away before he could catch you."
"Yes, I might," answered the dragon, "but then again I mightn't."
"Why--you'd never fight him?" said Tina.
"No," said the dragon; "I'm all for peace, I am. You let me out, and you'll see."
So the children loosed the dragon from the chains and the collar, and he broke down one end of the dungeon and went out--only pausing at the forge door to get the blacksmith to rivet his wing.
He met the lame giant at the gate of the town, and the giant banged on the dragon with his club as if he were banging an iron foundry, and the dragon behaved like a smelting works--all fire and smoke. It was a fearful sight, and people watched it from a distance, falling off their legs with the shock of every bang, but always getting up to look again.
At last the dragon won, and the giant sneaked away across the marshes, and the dragon, who was very tired, went home to sleep, announcing his intention of eating the town in the morning. He went back into his old dungeon because he was a stranger in the town, and he did not know of any other respectable lodging. Then Tina and Johnnie went to the mayor and corporation and said, "The giant is settled. Please give us the thousand pounds reward."
But the mayor said: "No, no, my boy. It is not you who have settled the giant, it is the dragon. I suppose you have chained him up again? When he comes to claim the reward he shall have it."
"He isn't chained up yet," said Johnnie. "Shall I send him to claim the reward?"
But the mayor said he need not trouble; and now he offered a thousand pounds to anyone who would get the dragon chained up again.
"I don't trust you," said Johnnie. "Look how you treated my father when he chained up the dragon."
But the people who were listening at the door interrupted, and said that if Johnnie could fasten up the dragon again they would turn out the mayor and let Johnnie be mayor in his place. For they had been dissatisfied with the mayor for some time, and thought they would like a change.
So Johnnie said, "Done," and off he went, hand in hand with Tina, and they called on all their little friends and said: "Will you help us to save the town?"
And all the children said: "Yes, of course we will. What fun!"
"Well, then," said Tina, "you must all bring your basins of bread and milk to the forge tomorrow at breakfast time."
"And if ever I am mayor," said Johnnie, "I will give a banquet, and you shall be invited. And we'll have nothing but sweet things from beginning to end."
All the children promised, and next morning Tina and Johnnie rolled their big washing tub down the winding stair.
"What's that noise?" asked the dragon.
"It's only a big giant breathing," said Tina, "He's gone by now."
Then, when all the town children brought their bread and milk, Tina emptied it into the wash tub, and when the tub was full Tina knocked at the iron door with the grating in it and said: "May we come in?"
"Oh, yes," said the dragon, "it's very dull here."
So they went in, and with the help of nine other children they lifted the washing tub in and set it down by the dragon. Then all the other children went away, and Tina and Johnnie sat down and cried.
"What's this?" asked the dragon. "And what's the matter?"
"This is bread and milk," said Johnnie; "it's our breakfast--all of it."
"Well," said the dragon, "I don't see what you want with breakfast. I'm going to eat everyone in the town as soon as I've rested a little."
"Dear Mr. Dragon," said Tina, "I wish you wouldn't eat us. How would you like to be eaten yourself?"
"Not at all," the dragon confessed, "but nobody will eat me."
"I don't know," said Johnnie, "there's a giant--"
"I know. I fought with him, and licked him."
"Yes, but there's another come now--the one you fought was only this one's little boy. This one is half as big again."
"He's seven times as big," said Tina.
"No, nine times," said Johnnie. "He's bigger than the steeple."
"Oh, dear," said the dragon. "I never expected this."
"And the mayor has told him where you are," Tina went on, "and he is coming to eat you as soon as he has sharpened his big knife. The mayor told him you were a wild dragon--but he didn't mind. He said he only ate wild dragons--with bread sauce."
"That's tiresome," said the dragon. "And I suppose this sloppy stuff in the tub is the bread sauce?"
The children said it was. "Of course," they added, "bread sauce is only served with wild dragons. Tame ones are served with apple sauce and onion stuffing. What a pity you're not a tame one: He'd never look at you then," they said. "Good-bye, poor dragon, we shall never see you again, and now you'll know what it's like to be eaten." And they began to cry again.
"Well, but look here," said the dragon, "couldn't you pretend I was a tame dragon? Tell the giant that I'm just a poor little timid tame dragon that you kept for a pet."
"He'd never believe it," said Johnnie. "If you were our tame dragon we should keep you tied up, you know. We shouldn't like to risk losing such a dear, pretty pet."
Then the dragon begged them to fasten him up at once, and they did so: with the collar and chains that were made years ago--in the days when men sang over their work and made it strong enough to bear any strain.
And then they went away and told the people what they had done, and Johnnie was made mayor, and had a glorious feast exactly as he had said he would--with nothing in it but sweet things. It began with Turkish delight and halfpenny buns, and went on with oranges, toffee, coconut ice, peppermints, jam puffs, raspberry-noyeau, ice creams, and meringues, and ended with bull's-eyes and gingerbread and acid drops.
This was all very well for Johnnie and Tina; but if you are kind children with feeling hearts you will perhaps feel sorry for the poor deceived, deluded dragon--chained up in the dull dungeon, with nothing to do but to think over the shocking untruths that Johnnie had told him.
When he thought how he had been tricked, the poor captive dragon began to weep--and the large tears fell down over his rusty plates. And presently he began to feel faint, as people sometimes do when they have been crying, especially if they have not had anything to eat for ten years or so.
And then the poor creature dried his eyes and looked about him, and there he saw the tub of bread and milk. So he thought, "If giants like this damp, white stuff, perhaps I should like it too," and he tasted a little, and liked it so much that he ate it all up.
And the next time the tourists came, and Johnnie let off the colored fire, the dragon said shyly: "Excuse my troubling you, but could you bring me a little more bread and milk?"
So Johnnie arranged that people should go around with carts every day to collect the children's bread and milk for the dragon. The children were fed at the town's expense--on whatever they liked; and they ate nothing but cake and buns and sweet things, and they said the poor dragon was very welcome to their bread and milk.
Now, when Johnnie had been mayor ten years or so he married Tina, and on their wedding morning they went to see the dragon. He had grown quite tame, and his rusty plates had fallen off in places, and underneath he was soft and furry to stroke. So now they stroked him.
And he said, "I don't know how I could ever have liked eating anything but bread and milk. I am a tame dragon now, aren't I?" And when they said that yes, he was, the dragon said: "I am so tame, won't you undo me?" And some people would have been afraid to trust him, but Johnnie and Tina were so happy on their wedding day that they could not believe any harm of anyone in the world. So they loosened the chains, and the dragon said: "Excuse me a moment, there are one or two little things I should like to fetch," and he moved off to those mysterious steps and went down them, out of sight into the darkness. And as he moved, more and more of his rusty plates fell off.
In a few minutes they heard him clanking up the steps. He brought something in his mouth--it was a bag of gold.
"It's no good to me," he said. "Perhaps you might find it useful." So they thanked him very kindly.
"More where that came from," said he, and fetched more and more and more, till they told him to stop. So now they were rich, and so were their fathers and mothers. Indeed, everyone was rich, and there were no more poor people in the town. And they all got rich without working, which is very wrong; but the dragon had never been to school, as you have, so he knew no better.
And as the dragon came out of the dungeon, following Johnnie and Tina into the bright gold and blue of their wedding day, he blinked his eyes as a cat does in the sunshine, and he shook himself, and the last of his plates dropped off, and his wings with them, and he was just like a very, very extra-sized cat. And from that day he grew furrier and furrier, and he was the beginning of all cats. Nothing of the dragon remained except the claws, which all cats have still, as you can easily ascertain.
And I hope you see now how important it is to feed your cat with bread and milk. If you were to let it have nothing to eat but mice and birds it might grow larger and fiercer, and scalier and tailier, and get wings and turn into the beginning of dragons. And then there would be all the bother over again.

Hi everyone! I'm looking for a manga I read 10 years ago in my middle school library in Indiana that I remember small details and I want to find the name so badly!
It's about an little girl who I think is an orphan or at least on her own in the wild west. I think she had pigtails that were purple?? She gets taken in by this sick looking cowboy with longg white or silver hair who wears like a black trenchcoat and maybe a black hat? They are going to hunt down the syndicate and the mod boss who wronged them in someway lol.
I remember it was series and that's about all the details I can think of! Anyone who can help I seriously appreciate! Thanks in advance!

TL;DR So a few years ago I was a student studying in Childcare, now as a part of my course I am meant to one day a week work in a private nursery (for people who don't know what a nursery is it's basically preschool (I think)) for experience.
So whilst I was there for a year I became very close with the staff members and the children that was there, during the summer a new child was enrolled into the nursery.
The little girl we will call her Mary because her favourite song was Mary Has A Little Lamb, now Mary is an adorable little girl who likes to jump around and give everyone hugs and kisses. A ball of fluff is what she is.
Mary is a bit slightly chubby for a 3yr old but that's ok, no problem with a little bit of chub. But her mom thought otherwise, her mom whom we'll name Karen is this tall white lady whom is American who moved to our country last year.
Mary didn't look anything like Karen, Mary is a black child but that isn't a problem to us since everyone's families comes in different sizes and shapes but I had to point this out since it'll become important later.
Karen was well known in the nursery for well looking like a, excuse my choice of words, a hoe and for her lovely personality.
She would show up with a flush red face, a tight slim skinny dress that shows of either her cleavage or ass and caked in excessive amount of make up. A lot of us thought she was always tipsy whenever she came to do pick up Mary but since she always goes around in a Uber, that's right, even if it's somewhere down her road she'll call for an Uber, so luckily she isn't drunk driving.
Now this isn't a big deal since we're used to people like her until the Summer trip starts coming around the corner, it was a trip to a big theme park in my country, everyone was buzzed especially the staff members since this is basically a free trip for them since the nursery is paying for it.
The children will be with their parents or guardians so we didn't have to take care of them and just go wild with alcohol and the rides.
On the day of the trip Karen came along as usual in a tight dress, high heels, pungent perfume and excessive amount of make up, she looks like she's dressed for some sort of formal party whilst the other parents are dressed in casual clothings preparing themselves for war.
Remember us staff members don't have to look after the kids on this trip and it's the parents/guardians responsibility to do so.
Before we left off for our trip Karen noticed one of the children, a beautiful toddler whom I'll name Anna with blonde pigtails and bright blue eyes.
Karen walked up to her mother whom she held hands with and said something quite disturbing to the point Anna's mother requested to us staff to help keep a distance from her.
The exchange went as followed:
Karen: That's a cute girl.
AM: aww thank you, she's our pride and joy.
Karen: She has such beautiful crystal blue eyes and blonde hair, her skin is so fair and pale.
AM: y-yeah she is beautiful (a bit creeped out.)
Karen: I wish Mary looked like her.
AM: (Looks at Mary) Aww Mary is also a beautiful girl too!
Karen: (Scoffs) Yeah right. If anything I want a baby girl like yours. (She looks closer at Anna and strokes her blonde hair.)
Anna's mother was creeped out by that and pulled Anna away from Karen before quickly heading to us for some help.
With our help we assigned Karen and Mary to sit at the very back of the bus whilst Anna's family sat in the front to keep some distance.
Once we got to the theme park everyone was let loose and the parents/guardians are in for a treat. Whilst us staff and students went nuts on the rides and the alcohol basically just having a blast.
Until it was nearing late afternoon, we were all getting hungry so we walked over to the food court, there we saw a unpleasant sight, Karen was drinking some beer at one of the far back tables talking on her phone whilst Mary was asleep in her buggy.
We looked at this scene with disgust and walked over, the exchange went as followed after Karen noticed us and put down the phone.
Karen: Oh hello there!
Me: hello Karen! Enjoying the trip?
Karen: Oh Geez I wish! It's been so boring, tiring, my feet aches from walking around and it's so bloody hot. (She was wearing a tight black dress and tall black heels of course she's gonna get tired.)
Me: I see. Did you two enjoy any of the rides?
Karen: Yes! Mary enjoys the merry go ride more then anything.
I want to note that there was no merry go round in the theme park.
I seated myself along with two other staff members with Karen to get to know her and see if she was okay because I can tell she was kinda tipsy with her skin all flushed, we kept an eye out for her and just kept talking and drinking until finally things took a turn for the worst.
She talked about things we couldn't believe.
Karen:... You know. I never wanted a child. But my husband adopted Mary from one of his African trips because according to him he felt like he had to and he sees her as his own flesh and blood. (She scoffs as she drinks more.)
The husband is a journalist who travels a lot.
Me: That's nice of him, I'm sure Mary will grow up to be a healthy beautiful girl.
Karen: (Scoffs again) yeah beautiful my ass..... Back in America beautiful white girls are always the most popular ones in High School and.... (Mumbles something quietly.)
Me: Pardon?
Karen:... Her skin is so black... I wonder... if there was a bruise would anyone be able to see it?
Me:... Uhh (Looks at the other two staff members with worry but they nodded as they quickly rushed over to Mary to check if she was okay and see if there was any signs of abuse whilst I kept Karen occupied with idle talk.)
Luckily Mary didn't have any signs of abuse but since Karen was a bit tipsy and tired, one of the staff members took Karen back to the bus to rest whilst the bus driver kept a close eye on her, we took Mary after getting a drunk consent from Karen and took her on children rides that she'll enjoy, like the elephant ride, the airplane, the baby roller coaster and more.
We still had our fun until it was time to gather back at the meeting point around the evening.
We quickly informed the manager what we had heard and expressed our concern and the manager took it into consideration.
Once we got back apparently the manager contacted Karen's husband and informed him of what was been said and how she's been treating Mary and also to pick up Karen since she was tipsy. Not sure what the husband did after learning all of that.
The very next week Karen came into the nursery quite early which was unusual to pick up Mary, Anna and her mother was passing by her in the hallway to go home when suddenly Karen grabbed Anna by the arm and screamed.
Karen: I WANT THIS CHILD GIVE HER TO ME!!
AM: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! LET GO!!
All the staff members quickly rushed over to the scene to pull Karen away. Anna was crying in pain and fear with her mother grabbing her away from Karen and hugged her protectively.
Karen: I DESERVE A BEAUTIFUL WHITE CHILD GIVE HER TO ME! SHE'S MINE! I WANT A BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL!!
We restrained her with three men holding her down, we quickly contacted the police and her husband.
Everyone was informed to leave early that day including the cleaners, especially since I was a student I left early because of the ruckus, but some stayed back to give a witness statement.
Afterwards according to one of the staff members, Karen's husband argued like hell with Karen in the Nursery's office and basically threatened to divorce her which got Karen crying.
Karen's husband took Mary with Karen basically hugging him by the leg begging him not to leave her and that she was sorry.
For a month instead of Karen picking up Mary, it was either Mary's nanny or the husband.
According to one of the nosy staff members, the husband had divorced Karen and got a restraining order against her because apparently when the husband went to visit Karen in jail she tried to attack him for prioritising Mary over her and Anna's mom also pressed charges against her and got a restraining order.
I'm not sure what happened to Karen afterwards but I hope she never has children of her own. Also Mary is being well taken care of by her loving father who treats her like a treasure regardless of skin colour and think she's a beautiful baby girl. (A lot of the staff members had a crush on him after this incident lol.)
I'm not sure if Mary was adopted before or after the father was in a relationship with Karen, but I knew that their relationship was only about 2 years and a bit. I'm pretty sure Karen was after the dad's money because he's fairly wealthy not upper class wealthy but middle class wealthy and she often spent his money like water and used to brag about how much money she has thanks to her husband.

My(16f) parents are ex drug addicts who decided to quit when they found out they were having me. however, one thing they did not quit was their alcaholism, which became a problem and is still a problem in my life. During my childhood my parents would argue a lot and get drunk so i decided to isolate myself in my room and was left to my electronics. Over time, youtubers ended up becoming my parent figures and i would often wish i was living with them instead of where i was then. I would watch family channels and would cry because i wished my mom and dad treated me that way. When i started hitting puberty at about age 10-11, i noticed a change in the way my parents saw me. they would make comments about how i was becoming a woman and this scared me. I didn't wanna grow up, i wanted to stay a little girl forever and be cuddled by my mom and dad who would sing me to sleep. To cope with this, i began regressing. At age 10-11, i would dig for old clothes i wore when i was younger that would still fit me, put pigtails in my hair, would walk around the house with a stuffed animal, and would suck my thumb in hopes of trying to relive my childhood that i belived was being ripped away from me. This persisted and stopped when i was 13. Flash foreward to now and i am 16 and living with my mom. I spend most of my time isolated in my room because i dont have many opportunities to hang out with people (idk why). I was diagnosed with severe depression at the beginning of the year and was prescribed 20mg of anti-depressants which i take daily. I spend all day on my laptop watching videos and playing games, though sometimes ill just have meltdowns and cry for hours and hours. These meltdowns get especially bad when i accidentally forget to take my meds which makes everything worse. I get aggressive when i have these meltdowns and ill throw things, roll on the floor, pull my hair, and pick at my skin. I was supposed to be seeing a school couselor but i havent seen him in months. around the same time i got depression i developed an eating desorder which i am trying to recover from with help from a doctor but i decided to skip my last doctors appointment due to lack of motivation and havent rescheduled since. My weight has been decreasing. I don't know what to do. I need advice.

I don't know what to call my kinks
I don't know where to go to get answers about this, so sorry if posts like this aren't allowed. Sorry if this is a bit rambling, but I'm kinda opening up to some of my desires, and I need help exploring and understanding.
So there are a few things I know. I definitely have a thing for mutual body worship. I love having my cock and balls worshipped. I have a cum fetish, but it's weirdly specific. I don't want the recipient to play with it or eat it off their body. I want them to leave it alone. And I definitely have a mild furry thing. Girls with animal ears, furry boots, and maybe paws. But no full masks or anthropomorphic animals, that's weirdly an instant turn off. It's an uncanny valley thing, almost.
I am attracted to feminine features and mannerisms, but I could go either way when it comes to genitals. If I were ever with a man, I would definitely want to feel like the dominant partner, and I would especially want to be physically more imposing. But with a girl, I could go either way. So does that make me bi? I've been with a guy once, but he was too masculine for me, I couldn't kiss him. And I wasn't really attracted to his face or body. I only find really effeminate men attractive.
Anyway, I think I have a general understanding of most of that.
But is there a fetish for saying nice things? Like...I get a sexual thrill from being praised. Mostly about my body, but also about emotional things and general life stuff. Like on occasion a woman will call me a good man (which I genuinely try to be), and I get a secret sexual thrill. And I want to reciprocate too. I am constantly looking for opportunities to build up and empower women in my life, and none of them know that it's actually low-key sexual for me. Making women feel good about themselves turns me on.
Is that a thing?
Probably my biggest kink is clothes. Like show me a hot naked girl, that's fine. But put her in a mini skirt and thigh highs, and I lose my fucking mind. But its not just seeing them, and it's definitely not the idea of taking them off. Like, I want to dress a girl up, doing everything myself, pulling the clothes on, touching her body while I do it. Picking sexy outfits, and putting them on for her. And I want to brush her hair and put it in pigtails or something.
I have a kink for pampering a girl. Like it would give me an INSANE thrill if I could have a girl come home after a hard day, strip her down, put her in a bubble bath, and wash her head to toe, paying special attention to her pussy. Then I'd like to dry her off, massage her, do her hair, give her a mani-pedi, dress her in something sexy (if I had any skill with makeup I'd love to do that too, but I'm a total mess with fine detail), and then we cap it all off by having sex. But the whole thing would need to be mutually loving, I don't want to be a servant. I want to be a loving companion, and have her worship and care for me the same way. And there would be praise and sweet talk the whole time. Words like "good boy" and "good girl" really turn me on. And worshipful language like "goddess", words like "precious" "pretty" "sweet"..those words turn me on a little even typing them.
Anyway, is there a name for this? Is this a thing people do?
Another related kink would be for me to get a girl all dressed up and looking really sexy, and then have really messy sex with her. Especially cumming all over her face at the end. BUT then cleaning her up, in very much the manner described above. Do people fetishize aftercare? Yikes, I feel like that might be a neverending cycle, lol.
Related to aftercare, I also have a thing for snuggling. Like cuddling naked together after some intense sex, or even just during the day, fully clothed. There's something about having my body maximally intertwined with someone else's body. I would love to get all snuggled up with a girl, but like there would be casual touching of each other's privates. Like I would love to just be snuggled up, watching Netflix while my hand gently massages her pussy through her clothes, or her hand is just in my pants, gently caressing my balls or something. Even if it doesn't end up going anywhere. Like I'd love to have a girl let me touch her anywhere I want when we're just hanging out, and I'd love to have her touch me any way she likes. Is there a petting/comfort fetish?
I would also really like to help a girl in the bathroom. I'm not into period stuff, but I think if having me help with that turned a girl on, I would do it. And probably get to like it. But like, I'd love to sit there while a girl pees, and then wipe her pussy for her. I'd even really enjoy wiping her ass after she poops. But I don't want to touch poop or do anything sexual with it. That would be a huge turn off for me, and I wouldn't do that even if a girl wanted to. It's not touching the "gross" bits that turn me on. It's the cleaning, and intimate care. (Not trying to kink shame with the word "gross", I just don't know what else to call it)
Now pee...I could get into that, in the right context. If it wasn't a degredation thing. It would have to be about worshipping each other's fluids. Like the pee isn't dirty of it comes from the right person. And it would be about the freedom of letting go, just relaxing that one deepest muscle...I don't know.
That's the weird thing to me, a lot of these kinks are familiar, but usually with one partner being like degraded or humiliated, or at least dominant. And that's not what I'd want. Like, I'd fake it for a while, as like a game. But I wouldn't want it to be the long-term structure of a relationship, you know? And if I ever did stuff like that, it would have to be a two-way street. I wouldn't be comfortable if there were any real shame, or dominance. It would have to be pretend, and temporary.
Anyway, I'm just feeling confused about all of this, and it would help me of I could name some of these feelings and hear from other people who feel the same. If there are any.
I don't have any money. So if you're gonna offer to explore this with me for money, just don't. Also, I'm married, and I actually love my wife, so I'm not looking for a roleplay or anything. But I do want to find people I can discuss this with, so I can understand myself and my sexuality better. If this isn't the community for that, I'm sorry for wasting your time. But if anyone out there has advice, I'd appreciate it. I'd be happy to DM with anyone who will discuss this while respecting my boundaries. Thanks in advance.

Doesn't the narrative of a trepidatious nine year old trekking down a dark, lonesome road in the early hours of the morning seem odd?
Let's remember some important details and facts about this case:

• The highway has no sidewalks, just mud and grass. There was a torrential rainstorm just hours before Asha allegedly began walking. Yet Asha left not a single solitary footprint. How could a young girl walking in complete darkness on dirt, muck and grass not leave behind even one shoeprint? Without a light source, it is so dark on that road that it is almost as though you are walking with your eyes closed. How could a child who surely could hardly see where she was going not leave a visible trail as she walked?
• It was reportedly 35 degrees on the morning that Asha made her walk. Yet she, according to eyewitness reports, was not wearing a coat - in fact, Roy Blanton reported that she was wearing a sheer white dress. Why would Asha, said to be a very intelligent and bright young girl, intentionally leave her house in February without a coat, jacket, pants or sweater?
• Iquila Degree claims that Asha was terrified of animals to the point where she was apprehensive about playing outside. Why would this same child leave during the middle of the night and dauntlessly perform this walk knowing that it is surrounded by open fields and wooded areas where animals might be?
• Asha's loved ones described her as a very shy, perturbed, and cautious young girl. Yet Jeff Ruppe described Asha as confidently walking down the road, almost to the point of aggressively powerwalking and completely ignoring him after he claims to have performed not one but three U-Turns in his twelve wheeler truck. Would a nine year old girl who was so petrified of strangers that she would answer the front door with an extreme wariness and hesitancy - even for her own family members - really bravely and daringly trek forward in pitch black conditions alongside a lonesome two-lane road while a large truck is repeatedly circling around her and trying to get her attention?
• Ruppe claims to have seen Asha change direction and begin walking towards the Turner shed. Keep in mind that the Turner shed is roughly two football fields length (600 ft) away from the highway and the conditions outside would've a created muddy, sludgy pathway to walk on while heading towards this shed. Yet, investigators recovered absolutely no footprints during Asha's alleged tread towards the shed. How could a little girl walk across such a large field and not leave behind even half of a footprint? Furthermore, how could Ruppe go from performing three elaborate, time consuming turns on a narrow two-lane road in his twelve wheeler truck in order to figure out why this girl was outside -- to suddenly see her switch paths and head towards a large field in complete darkness and now finding it appropriate to simply drive off? How did he go from "I absolutely have to see why this girl is out here by herself during such a strange hour of the day" to "she's walking across a field towards pitch black nothingness, nothing strange about that, guess I'll drive off now"?
• Roy Blanton described seeing what appeared to be an adult woman walking down the side of the road. He assumed that this woman was a battered housewife, fleeing from violence. Asha was 4’6, 60 lbs with colorful hairbows and clips dangling from her multiple pigtails. How could she possibly fit the description of a grown woman? Furthermore, how good would Blanton's visibility truly had even been, given that the speed limit on the road he was traveling down is roughly 55mph - 60mph, it was dark outside and possibly raining? Those aren't exactly stellar conditions to see something in detail.
• The Turner shed had dirt flooring and it had doors. Yet, once again, Asha left behind no fingerprints. How could a girl whose shoes were surely soaked or caked in mud not leave behind a footprint in a dirt shed? Police speculate that she was sitting down in the shed and pulled out hairbows and pencils from her backpack to play with. Yet no body print from her sitting on the ground? No scent from her playing with items inside of a contained shed? How could she have not left behind fingerprints on the doors if she both opened and closed them? The items found in the shed that the Turner's believed might've been Asha's were collected by authorities and sent off for DNA. In 24 years, law enforcement has not once confirmed a single item in there as being positively identified through forensic testing as belonging to her.
• Ruppe did not report his alleged "sighting" until a missing persons report was filed and broadcasted all of the case details as well as details about Asha. Missing persons reports typically give information such as the missing individual's race, age, what they look like, last reported location and what clothes they might've last been seen wearing. With key details such as this, it becomes incredibly easy to insert yourself as an eyewitness, does it not? Additionally, take into account that Ruppe claimed to have seen her walk in an area that the police had already closed and taped off due to a traffic checkpoint, so it is possible that he drove by this area assuming that it was crime-related, heard Asha's story on the airwaves, put two and two together and placed himself into her case as a witness. Roy Blanton did not report his sighting until a full two days after Asha disappeared. Why would these two individuals claiming to have been extremely upset at the sight of seeing a young woman out in the pitch black by herself not report this sighting to the authorities the day of? Why wait until important case details were released to the public?
• Tracker dogs could only locate Asha's scent to her driveway. Nowhere alongside the route that she walked nor in the shed that she allegedly sat in. Tracker dogs can smell a trail for more than 130 miles and their ability to smell actually increases from rainstorms because water molecules capture scents and hold them for longer. How did these highly trained, highly specialized dogs not recover any scents, especially given that it'd stormed just hours earlier which would've immensely heightened their ability to track her scent?
• Harold reportedly states in transcripts of his 911 phone call that he believed Asha ran away from home. Isn't that an odd conclusion for a parent to reach? Your child, who does not have a history of running away, is missing from your home at 6:00am and your immediate thought is that they voluntarily left? Imagine for a second that you have a nine year old child. A shy, anxious, smart kid. You go into their bedroom to wake them up for school and they are gone. Is your first thought going to be that they fled from your home in the middle of the night? That they left everything that they know to go out into the unknown in the middle of the night in cold, wet conditions? Furthermore, why did law enforcement jump to this conclusion so readily? Statistically, runaways tend to be a bit older than Asha, have a history of running away and often a clear motive, yet that wasn't the case in this situation.

Now let me also include in this my issue with the other theories thrown around.
- "Asha probably had a penpal or older man who she loved and trusted and they convinced her to meetup at night". Why would a grown adult put both themself and the child in such immense risk? Why would you tell a nine year old girl to specifically meet you at 3:00am as if there is not a long list of things that could easily go wrong with that? Such as: Asha not waking up that early in the night, sleeping through her alarm clock, making an excessive amount of noise while trying to leave, dropping something and waking her parents up or getting caught by a neighbor? Why tell a nine year old to meet you knowing that she could end up not properly reading directions and end up accidentally on the opposite side of town or caught by law enforcement, where she would end up spoiling everything and telling the cops why she was really out, out of fear? If someone wanted to see and be near Asha that badly, I don't believe that they were jeopardize her life by having her walk in the early morning hours by herself.
- "Asha may have been killed by a hit and run driver". So this driver runs Asha over, kills her, panics, picks up her body, throws her in the trunk, flees the scene of the crime and drives out to the woods to bury her yet magically leaves behind no scent, no tire marks, no eyewitness reports?
- "Asha may have crossed paths with a child murderer." The statistical odds of that must be something else. Because what are the chances that a nine year old girl out walking by herself on a lonesome two-laned road crosses paths with someone of this ilk? Keep in mind that not all murderers kill children and not all rapist molest children. Additionally, most killers kill within their race. How likely is it that she met someone who both kidnaps and kills little Black girls? Furthermore, the same questions apply in this scenario: Why was Asha's scent or footprints not recovered if she was abducted outside?
- "Asha might've been tired of her life or dissatisfied with how things were going in school or with sports. Maybe she wanted to simply start all over". At 3 o'clock in the morning? And why was this intelligent child so underprepared for such an adventure, given that she did not bring a coat or flashlight?
If it's TLDR; Eyewitness misidentification has been found to be the leading cause of known wrongful conviction, (contributing to approximately 70 per cent) and eyewitness reports should not be overly-relied on as they are in this case; statistically, when children go missing or end up dead it is by the hands of a loved one; the different theories presented as to why she "left" have multiple holes and contradictions in them; there is zero forensic evidence substantiating Asha Degree ever being outside; no evidence of a hit and run or groomer; not enough damning evidence presented to completely dismiss the possibility of her being met with foul play by a family member; not enough evidence leading to anything indicating that she wanted to runaway, let alone would do so in conditions that trigger multiple fears of hers.

romance

Marichat

Adrienette

satire

Warning: two shortish descriptions of kissing scenes but nothing to explict and blunt mentions of asking if someone if they are a good/better kisser. Though the better kisser thing is meant to be taken as a joke in this story. You'll see.....
Note: There is one serious part toward the end but it's mostly a satire story.
Synopsis: Adrien and Marinette are a couple. One night Adrien wants to ask Marinette a question he doesn't want to ask as Adrien but as Cat and that he apparently can't wait til it's not midnight to ask. So he sneaks into Marinette's room at midnight. Marinette is not pleased.
Story: Cat Noir retracted his staff, grip weak from sweaty hands as his his heart thumped against his ribs, breathing ragged. He landed with practiced grace on the railing of Marinette's balcony in a cat-like crouch. He facepalmed himself.
I'm Truely out of my mind! This is so stupid! It's way too late at night for this! And besides, what possessed me to think asking her this question will be even remotely normal!

 He started to turn around on the railing preparing himself to abort. He pulled out his staff again, extending it. He pressed his boots into the railing, ready to push off it into the night and go back home. And go back before his father finds out he snuck out in the middle of the night. So he did. He pushed off launching himself on the next rooftop. He began pushing himself along with his staff as he started to run, leaping between rooftops in quick succession, with grace and the confidence of practice. 

 About 4 minutes later he pivoted on his heel in the middle of one of the rooftops about a mile out from Marinette's. I don't think I can sleep until I find this out! I think I'm going to have to head back to her place. He headed back towards Marinette's. So off he went running across the rooftops. Running across rooftops never felt anymore boring or time consuming. It was like time was moving at half speed. Ugh, it was going to take forever to get back! Push off with the staff, sprint, leap the gap between the rooftops, land on the next one, push off with the staff, sprint, leap the gap between the rooftops, land on the next one........... on repeat. 

 About 5 minutes later he perched himself on the railing again narrowing his eyes in resolve, eying the trapdoor below him that led down to Marinette's bedroom. 

But I need to know! Not bothering to knock, he opened the trapdoor for himself, jumping down to the floor and landing in a graceful crouch. A thump quaked the floor. The sound wasn't that loud but was loud enough to wake the sleeping girl and disturb the silence of the dark room. Marinette mumbled wearily, sitting up with a yawn( ugh she so was so tired), and then throwing her covers off in a panic, revealing her dissheaved pigtails, and Pj's, heart racing. She made a startled screech. She rubbed her eyes before looking around trying to get her bearings. Who's there!? Cat covered his ears grimacing. Oh..... cat noir...... What's he doing here so late or ..... early? She looked at the clock on her nightstand. 11:56 pm!? Then his expression changed suddenly to a smirk and he dropped his hands to his side again as soon as the screeching was over. "No need to scream princess, it's just me!By the way, thank you for letting me in!" He teased. She took at moment to compose herself and took some deep breathes( In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.)to calm her racing heart before replying. " Look what the Cat dragged in ...... himself" she accounced in a deadpan. She shot him a quick glare and then continued as he winced under her glare, " So first off," she looking at him sternly," Never do that again! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Marinette tried to soften her expression a little when she heard Cat laugh nervously and saw him rub the back of his neck under the intensity of her eye contact. " secondly," she continued, " what couldn't wait until tomorrow? It's really late! Do you even have any idea what time it is?" He shrugged in sheepish honestly to the girls annoyance and disbelief. She sighed and gestured to the alarm clock on her nightstand. " It's midnight, Cat and I was sleeping!" He laughed nervously again then inhaled sharply and then exhaled preparing himself trying to play it cool but failing in that his voice rose an octave. " So I wanted to ask you a question" he said sitting on the floor. Marinette looked unimpressed and was about to open her mouth to interpupt. He stood up holding up his hand placidily telling her as calmly as he could muster at that moment, " Please let me finish, Marinette" she nodded reluctantly, still sitting on her bed. " so I wanted to ask you..... is your boyfriend a good kisser?" He felt stupid right now. But he wanted so badly to know. Did Marinette, his girlfriend (as Adrien because Marinette and Cat Noir though are just friends), think he was a good kisser? He was too nervous to ask her as Adrien. But this was ten times worse because now he sounded like a creep asking if his friend's boyfriend was a good kisser. She doesn't know he is actually Adrien. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! "What!" She shouted in shock and disbelief. He made eye contact with her at the sound, only to regret it when he noticed her scowling at him. " You can't just ask people that question!" In a panic he decided to try to fix the situation. He would made up an excuse for asking that question that wouldn't reveal his identity and try to play it cool. He took a deep breathe and painted on a smirk to hide his nervousness. He could overcompensate. That is what he normally did as Cat Noir anyway. He pulled out his staff, extending it, and placing the tip to ground like a walking stick. He slouched into the staff, leaning his elbows into the top of it, posing confidently and daring to make eye contact with Marinette. She stared back in challenge as if waiting for an explanation as to how it was perfectly normal to ask that kind of question or by the smirk she barely hid, she was probably waiting for him to fail so she could give him the " I told you sos" and prove she won. " so anyway, you kissed me before you had a boyfriend and I wanted to know who you think is the better kisser. Me or him?" She continued to frown at him, her frown deepening in disbelief at how ridiculous that sounded but she didn't break eye contact and neither did he, not letting his smirk and confident pose drop. He couldn't let his act drop because he was pretty sure what he just said made it worse. He got the urge to facepalm himself but didn't. He couldn't afford that right now. Marinette fell back dramatically on her bed with a groan and apparently also had to urge to facepalm herself too because she did it for him. "So?" He prompted. She sat up, uncovering her face. "Ah, yes, you're a better kisser than my boyfriend that I love dearly" she said sarcastically. Cat's facade broke and his eyebrows furrowed as he frowned in confusion. " she thinks I'm a better kisser than..... myself?" he muttered to himself, not catching on to the sarcasm. Marinette heard him mutter, but not the words said, " huh?" She asked. " uh ..... nothing " Cat said quickly, a little too quickly. Marinette's eyes narrowed a little in suspicion. " anyway," he tried to change the subject a little as he tried to ignore his heart thumping in his ears. He couldn't let her get anymore suspicious and ask questions that might cause her to find out his identity, " Do you think the suit is what makes me a better kisser.... that doesn't seem possible?" He asked sheepishly " Of course I do!" Marinette said again sarcastically, he still wasn't getting it and now she was exasperated. Cat frowned pensively. After a moment Marinette sighed in defeat, narrowing her eyes at Cat, she said, "-------It's getting late I have to get some sleep now, Cat." " right" he replied when he got snapped out of his thoughts after she began to speak again. She might have said something else before the ' It's getting late' part but he had been too deep in thought and realized she was speaking too late. " umm sorry for bothering you. Goodnight princess!" He then said trying to lighten the mood. Marinette rolled on over on her stomach and mumbled into the pillow, "night, cat! Don't forget to close the trapdoor on the way out". Adrien shrugged off the still unanswered question in his mind of how his suit could probably make him better at kissing and decided now was not the time to ponder it anymore. So he shook his head as if that would get rid of the thought and headed off into the night.
4 months later.................................... Marinette and Adrien sat on her bed talking. " M'lady, I am glad the battle against shadow Moth is over and that we finally could reveal our identities to each other! But I can't believe my father was the villian this whole time! I'm hurt but also really sad, you know. I love him still so much and I wish it didn't end up this way." He started to cry. " oh, my kitty" she told him softly as she felt really bad for him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and began to hug him as she rubbed his back. He cried softly as Marinette tried to comfort him. They sat like this for about for a few minutes until Adrien had stopped crying, and Marinette waited patiently. " I-I think I'm okay now or at least feeling a little better, thank you, m'lady" he said softly. She smiles at him sweetly as he wiped off his tears with with and tearful smile and tear stained tears. She wanted to try to lighten the mood so as she gently released herself from the hug, she began to sport a smirk at him. Then she leaned in to kiss him, and he responded in turn. He felt the smooth and soft texture of her lips. Wifted in the strawberry scent of her lip gloss. And the vanilla scent of her perfume. The chill that went down his spine at sensation of the contract as their lips meeting was electrifying and at the same time made him feel like he was heating up. He could stay like this forever. So they did. Not exactly forever but for a good more 30 seconds. They both pulled away then, somewhat reluctantly and stood blushing at each other. No matter how many times they did this they still felt dazed after but in a good way. It was a dizzying feeling but also overwhelming yet exhilarating.

 After staring at each other for a whole minute Marinette break the silence smirking at Adrien. " You know, " she said teasingly, "I think the kiss might actually be better if you were in a tight suit". Adrien blushed like a tomato but quickly transformed into Cat Noir. So she got off the bed and so did Adrien.The stood facing each other. She got on her tippy toes and with a smirk Marinette went really close to Cat, grabbed the bell at his chest and pulled him toward her face by the bell until the taller boy's nose was bumped into her nose. " see" she said as she pulled him even closer fulling the gap between their lips, " much better!" And they begin to kiss again. 

The end

On my first day at Monis Academy, a girl dropped out of the sky, straight onto the roof of my Uber.
At first, I don't think I fully registered what was happening.
There was a dead girl splayed out across the paintwork, willowy blonde hair glued to the windshield. I didn't think it was possible for the human body to splinter, coming apart completely.
But I was looking at it, her mangled limbs spread out like an angel.
She landed upside down, an unearthly grin splitting her mouth apart.
And yet somehow, all I could think of was my Uber driver's earlier warning.
I thought the man was screwing around when he handed me a mask before letting me in the car. I took it uncertainly, rolling it around in my hand.
We were four years into a pandemic, sure.
But I thought the world had returned to a kind-of normal.
“It's for the sickness.” My driver mumbled through his own mask, starting up the car. He must have noticed my confusion.
The guy was my Dad’s age, a stocky man in his early fifties who really liked Taylor Swift.
When I slid onto the backseat, he was blasting a love ballad. I could see her entire physical discography piled on the front seat. Maybe he had a daughter.
He didn't elaborate on his words, and I leaned back on comfortable upholstery, wearing my mask as instructed. I tried to open the window to let some air in, except they had been manually sealed.
I could see a thick paste-like substance glueing them shut.
What really set off alarm bells was the plastic screen between me and the driver. The thing reminded me of something straight out of a disaster movie.
You know, when patient zero is sealed into a plastic tent. I prodded it and he politely reminded me there was hand sanitizer on the seat next to me.
“For your hands.” He said, taking a right at an intersection.
The whole thing was giving me some serious 2020 PTSD. I had vivid memories of being fourteen years old, watching my dad set up a quarantine zone in our living room for visitors.
I understood. Dad was an ex soldier, but the whole quarantine thing terrified me.
“Excuse me.” I said, trying to swallow an uneasiness twisting in my gut.
“Hm?”
I leaned forward, trying to ignore his slight flinch, like I was carrying a disease. “What did you mean by sickness?”
The driver surprised me with a laugh, nodding his head to his playlist. “Oh, there's no sickness in here,” he twisted around, nodding to me. “I would keep that mask on if I were you, sweetheart.”
I nodded, a sour slime creeping its way up my throat.
“What do you mean?”
He didn't reply for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “You're the same age as my kid,” he said, “Do you have a phone?”
I held up my iPhone. “Uh, yeah.”
I could see the crease of a friendly smile in the folds of his mask. “Take a lot of pretty pictures, kid. The school grounds are beautiful, so just concentrate on that, all right?” my driver offered me a two-fingered salute.
“Just do not look up.
I nodded, responding with an awkward laugh.
An hour later, his words slammed into me.
Oh, I thought dizzily, my gaze following rivers of red streaming down the car’s windscreen.
So, this was what he meant by Don't look up.
Unfortunately, I have the memory of a goldfish. The Uber driver’s warning went in one ear and out the other, only making an appearance when I was admiring the school itself, a towering castle-like structure built like something from a fantasy novel.
I was drinking in the perfect blue sky, an Instagram worthy sunset, when she appeared in front of me, falling, plunging, a blur of blonde hair and pleated skirt, before crashing through the roof of my ride.
I don't remember screaming, only staring at streaks of scarlet spider- webbing down splintered glass, her mangled body sprawled across the windscreen.
I was still replaying the last fifteen seconds in my head, my expression still frozen, delayed.
I was still fucking smiling behind my mask.
She landed with a sickening crunch, her eyes still open.
Lips frozen, like she was laughing in glee.
Before I could scream, before I could make any noise, a voice came from behind me.
“Masks are not necessary here.”
I found myself face to face with Mrs Mayor, the principal. I already knew her face. I had my online induction several days earlier. Mrs Mayor looked nothing like she did on video chat. Through my screen, I was talking to a woman in her early forties, a pretty face haloed with rich, red hair. This woman was an imposter. The teacher’s smile was stretched a little too thin. She reached out and plucked my mask off of my face.
But I barely noticed. I was too busy dazedly watching the dead girl’s brains pooling between splintered glass.
I had never seen the human brain before.
I wasn't expecting it to look like a pinkish, veiny slime.
I was keenly aware of my stomach trying to violently erupt through my mouth.
“Welcome to Monis Academy,” Mrs Mayor said, two teachers appeared armed with buckets and mops.
They power washed the girl’s blood from the car, scraping her mangled body onto a piece of plastic. The male teacher dragged her away, and the female teacher started scrubbing the girl’s remains from concrete I was standing on.
I remember taking slow steps backward, shaking my head, because no this was not fucking happening.
Mrs Mayor’s hands grasped onto my shoulders, her fingers grazing my chin, strictly coaxing my eyes to her.
“Sera Ainsley was failing,” she murmured, her breath tickling my cheeks. The teacher’s lips pricked into a small smile.
Her eyes terrified me, hollow caverns I couldn't understand.
Mrs Mayor did not look like a teacher, more like a dishevelled mother with three kids. She was in disarray, matted red hair pulled into a ponytail, a crumpled dress glued to her stick-like figure.
I could smell her, sour body odour hitting my nose and throat.
“The girl was a lost cause,” her dead eyes sparkled, lips stretching into a sickly grin. “She was nowhere near the top.”
Her soulless gaze followed mine, intrigued.
She was drinking me in, studying every piece of me.
“Lucy Jun.” She said my name like I was an enigma, sharp nails digging into my chin. “You were the smartest student in your last school,” Mrs Mayor inclined her head, her expression almost childlike.
“What do you say, hmm?” her voice was like white noise, waves crashing in my ears. She both did exist and didn't, human and something else entirely, riddled in complexities I was too afraid to look into. When I was a child, I stared up at a starless sky, my gut twisting at the thought of that darkness, that pooling, unending oblivion stretching out forever.
Mrs Mayor gave me that same feeling, an existential terror creeping its way up my spine.
The more I was staring at her under the shadow of the setting sun, the teacher’s body was twisting and contorting in my blurry vision, morphing into a monster.
Her body was suddenly too thin, her head almost balloon shaped, like she had creeped straight out of my childhood nightmares.
Mrs Mayor prodded my chin with a long spindly finger.
“Will you be able to beat our current reigning champion and tear him from the top spot?”
Leaning back, the teacher's lip curled in disgust. In the corner of my eye, the female teacher was picking pieces of skull from her wire brush. “Or will you be another Sera?”
She scoffed, nodding at the ground.
I didn't realize I was standing in pooling red.
“Reduced to a pathetic pile of mush.”
Her words woke me from my trance, where I was following a stray streak of red down the Uber’s window. Now it made sense why his windows were sealed. How many students had plunged through the roof of his car?
How many mangled bodies were peeled from his windscreen?
I jumped when ice cold water from the power hose splashed my ankles.
Watching the dead girl’s blood run clear across the tarmac, I remembered how to move.
How to run.
“Welcome to Monis Academy.” Mrs Mayor said, again, when I stumbled back.
She folded her arms, regarding me with a small smile.
“As you can see, Lucy, our students take their grades very seriously here.”
“Hey!”
The voice was new, coming from above.
I lifted my head, my body already reacting, expecting another body to drop.
Instead, my gaze found an open window.
A brunette with a wide smile and eyes that did not match her frenzied grin.
“Run!” she screamed, cupping her mouth.
Another open window, this time a guy, waving manically.
His eyes were filled with mania, that exact same insanity drowning Mrs Mayor.
“Are you stupid?!” he yelled, his mouth stretched, moulded, into a laughing smile.
His voice however, was a warning.
“Get away from here!” the boy gestured behind me.
“Go!”
I followed his pointer finger.
The gates.
At first, my body confused running with throwing up. I was on my knees, heaving up my lunch, and then I was running, throwing myself into a sprint, cheered by the two students hanging out the windows.
When I risked a look back, Mrs Mayor was standing with her arms folded, lips pursed. She made no move to run after me. This school was psychotic.
I threw myself into a run, falling over my shoes, my head spinning.
I could still see her.
I could see the world stopping in front of me, the girl’s body landing with a sickening…
Crunch.
Her neck snapping on impact, her spine splintering through glass.
Throwing up again, I choked up slimy breakfast bile.
“Keep going!”
The two students were cheering me on, like it was a game.
I got as far as the main gates, panting, my hands on my knees.
Locked.
The sound of engines signalled my Uber leaving campus through a separate exit.
“Hey!” I tried to follow, when the gates slammed shut behind him.
I was trapped.
“Have you considered joining the drama club, Lucy?”
Mrs Mayor was standing behind me, holding my luggage. When I looked for the two kids, their windows were shut.
“I'm not staying here.” I told the teacher, threatening to call the police.
My phone was dead, but she didn't know that.
I told her I wanted to go home.
No, I screamed at her. I told her the school was psychotic, and I wanted to leave.
Mrs Mayor handed me my things, ignoring my freak out. Instead of scolding me, she smiled. “I’m expecting great things from you, Lucy.”
Great things.
The way she said it, the words twisted and snake-like on her tongue.
Like a melody, a hypnotising murmur lulling my mind.
Great things.
I found myself nodding.
“Good.” Mrs Mayor handed me my luggage, taking my hand and manually wrapping my fingers around the handle.
“Now, you should head inside,” her voice was like windchimes. “Your room number will be on your welcome email.”
The teacher's voice followed me inside the school, pushing me into autopilot.
“I am expecting great things from you, Lucy. You are going to excel at Monis.”
The academy itself was bland, like any other old building. I barely remember the main reception, a room resembling a hotel lobby. There were students mulling around. I dragged myself up a marble staircase to my dorm room.
The world didn't feel real.
I was pushing my way into the girls dorm, when a group of younger kids ran through, one of them holding a scary looking knife. The girls were giggling, talking in hushed whispers. When I sidled past them, the group burst out laughing.
Monis Academy was a school for psychopaths.
I was dazedly staring at our door, when it opened, a head poking through.
My roommate was a mousy blonde with pigtails.
She told me the devil lived among them, so the teachers were playing a game.
“I’m Thea.” She introduced herself with that exact same empty smile, vacant eyes that barely found mine. Thea was pretty. I focused on her face instead of the rapidly growing cavern in my mind.
I still wasn't sure how I had moved from A to B.
I was standing in front of the school gate, and then I was in the girl’s dorm, Mrs Mayor’s words still clanging in my skull. I had the potential to be great.
I had the potential to be the best.
Thea was kneeling in front of me, her head inclined.
“Hello?” she waved a manicured hand in front of my face, a frown curving on her lips.
“The brain fog should wear off after a while,” she murmured. “I smoked weed, though I'd advise against that. Unsurprisingly, weed makes it worse.”
I didn't respond. It was like being high, but at the same time, I was fully aware of my mind being contorted, rewired, which was kinda… ticklish.
Like someone was tickling the bare meat of my brain with a feather. When I lightly prodded my right ear, I could feel a certain pressure, like my mind was struggling, expanding in my skull.
There was something wet running down the curve of my neck, but I didn't care.
“Hey, new kid?”
My roommate's voice sounded like ocean waves.
Thea sighed, before slapping me across the face.
The world spun, and I blinked slowly.
I didn't remember sitting down, but I was cross legged on a plain single bed.
Thea loomed over me, her arms folded. “Lucy, right?”
I felt myself nod, drowning in Mrs Mayor’s voice.
I could be great. I had the potential to be… the best.
I could claw my way to the top, and take the Monis Academy top spot.
“Wow.” Thea’s voice snapped my thoughts to fruition. The girl’s hands were planted on her hips. “Mrs Mayor really did a number on you, didn't she?”
I found my voice, choking on words that were not mine.
“What did she do to me?”
Thea laughed, and I caught that same mania twitching in her eyes.
“She didn't do anything to you,” Thea rolled her eyes, tipping onto her side, burying her head in an impressive collection of plushies. “It's airborne. So, no matter how in denial you are right now, you have it,” she mumbled into a stuffed bear. “Like a virus, we're all infected with it the second we walk in here.”
It?” I managed to whisper.
“Sera.” Thea hummed, “The girl who dived out of her window. Think of her as a host that rejected the virus. She refused to comply, so it killed her.”
I felt sick. “And that's what I'm infected with?”
She nodded, mumbling into her plushies. “Yep. Mrs Mayor plants the seed with her witchy powers, and lures us inside like lambs to the slaughter.”
“But what is it?” I demanded.
Thea shrugged. She sat up, pulling her legs to her chest. “Think of it like a disease, but instead of illness, it's an obsession.”
“Obsession with what?”
Instead of replying, my roommate crawled off of her bed.
She held out her hand for me to shake, entangling her fingers with mine.
Her palms were warm.
Wet.
Bloody.
I could see reddish pink staining her fingernails.
Thea’s smile widened when I shuffled back, a screech clawing up my throat.
“Sorry.” she swiped her hand on her shirt. “It's from my latest attempt.”
“Attempt?”
I thought back to the girl plunging to her death.
“Yeah,” Thea said, “Nick was in the student lounge earlier, so I figured I'd give it a shot. I stabbed him in the chest, but he was, like, totally fine. He was pushed out the window last night, and again, he was okay.” her eyes found mine, “Nick is like, indestructible.”
Her gaze lazily skimmed the ceiling. “But he's also what we all want.”
A shiver skittered down my spine. “What you all want?”
Thea sighed.
“The sickness is an obsession with being the best,” she flopped onto her bed with a laugh. “It makes us crave him.”
My roommate turned to me, her lips splitting into an unnerving grin.
“Don't worry! You'll start craving him soon.”
Him.
Nicholas Cross, the smartest boy in school, who held the top spot reigning over the school. Thea was right.
Once I saw him, I couldn't get him out of my head.
It started subtly, a hollow thought at the back of my mind that wanted to get close to him. But once I was close enough, next to him in class, breathing in his scent and suddenly conscious of every movement he made, I understood what my roommate was talking about.
The parasite inside my brain planted on my first day began to slowly eat away at my thoughts until there was no-one else but him. Nicholas Cross. Rich brown curls, sculpted in the school’s prestigious uniform, a mind that I was ravenous for, a hierarchy position I needed to rip from him.
Obsession became infatuation, and then something more. I started to talk to him in class, trying to make conversation.
But I couldn't fucking think straight.
My hands were shaking, my gut twisting into knots.
His presence was suffocating, twisting infatuation to envy, and envy to hate.
Nicholas Cross was a target every day.
I walked into English class to find two boys pushing him out of the window.
He was fine, appearing an hour later, picking strands of grass out of his hair.
Two girls slashed him through the stomach in the cafeteria.
He ignored them, continuing to eat his sandwich.
The quiet girl sitting in front of us twisted around halfway through class, and stabbed him straight through the skull.
I remember watching his blood spatter on my paper, red droplets stemming across my desk.
I wanted to see more of it, my poisoned thoughts screamed.
I wanted to spill his blood myself.
That was the first thought that wasn't mine, spreading through me like wildfire until I was resisting the urge to lick the boy’s blood from my desk.
Again, Nicholas was fine. He calmly pulled out the knife, handing it back to the girl, who took it with trembling hands.
“Better luck next time, Ella.” he winked, and the girl started screeching.
The teacher didn't care, ignoring Ella’s mental breakdown.
When she slammed her head into the desk hard enough to burst her nose, he continued teaching.
I thought I could stay myself. I thought this so-called sickness wouldn't affect me.
But then I found myself falling in love with not just him, but his mind.
I wanted to understand it, to rip it open and study it myself.
So, I proposed a study session, which he laughed at.
“I'm good.” Nicholas said, raising a brow. “I'm not the one who needs a study session.”
Harsh, but I wasn't going to give up.
“How about we just hang out?” the words were spilling from my lips before I could stop them.
Nicholas shrugged. “Sure.” his lips formed a smile. “How about eight? Do you want to hang in your room, or mine?”
I told him my room, and we made plans to watch a movie.
Thea immediately suggested killing him, but I was more interested in getting to know the guy. There had to be a reason why he was the top student, why the whole school wanted him dead.
8pm came, and there was no sign of him.
I waited ten minutes.
Then 20.
Half an hour.
45 minutes.
As I kind of expected, he didn't turn up.
When I confronted him in class, he mocked a double take.
“Wait, you were serious?” Nick laughed. “Why would I hang with someone like you? Aren't you ranked, like, eighteenth?”
I was, but that didn't matter.
When I started to lose touch with reality, my grades did not matter.
When I started wanting to fucking kill this boy, my grades DID NOT MATTER.
What did matter was plucking Nicholas Cross off of the top spot, and taking it for myself.
Days blurred into one, and this sickness began to take hold.
I lost myself, sinking into a pit of envy that swallowed me up, polluting my thoughts with scenarios where I had the top spot. It was a craving I couldn't control, stronger than any black market drug. I stopped sleeping, using all my time to carry out the perfect murder.
Thea told me I was falling, drowning like her.
She told me sucking on candy helped.
Meditation.
Video games.
But I couldn't concentrate. Everything reminded me of him.
I wanted to be better than him.
Mrs Mayor said I could be BETTER than HIM.
I started losing time, and finding it, and losing it again. The academy became a prison. I forgot where the exits were.
I forgot there was a world outside this school. Sometimes I caught myself sleepwalking, my teacher's words stringing me along. The parasite in my head was in full control, and the drug I couldn't get enough of, had twisted me into a monster I could not recognise.
I found myself rocking back and forth in bed.
In my lost time, I killed Nicholas Cross three times.
I drowned him in the indoor swimming pool. I woke up when he was lying face down in the water. I should have felt something, but Mrs Mayor’s voice praised me. She told me I had done a great job, but I was yet to kill the devil.
The next morning, Nicholas came to class with a smile, his hair still damp and stinking of chlorine. He slumped down in his seat, still soaking wet.
“Morning, Lucy.” his grin snapped what little of my sanity I had left.
I suffocated him with Thea’s pillow, only for him to return it half an hour later, apologising for the blood stains.
Mrs Mayor told me to get creative, chastising me for being so stupid.
I stabbed him in the chest, only fully waking up when he was laughing, dying in my arms. Nick joined me for lunch the following day, offering me his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. When he slid the knife over too, I choked on my lunch.
Nick nodded at me, grinning through his sandwich.
“Isn't it a great day?” he said loudly, leaning his chin on his fist. “Don't you think so, Lucy?”
He cocked his head, his eyes bright. “Can I call you Luce? Like, Lucy Goosey.”
His eyes, Mrs Mayor whispered in my ear.
The eyes of the devil.
Nicholas Cross was not dying, and this thing was in full control. I tried to escape the school when I regained a semblance of my mind, but Mrs Mayor was waiting for me with those exact same words that bewitched me in the first place. She told me I could be better than him, that all it took was thinking outside the box. Her invisible tendrils were too deep, too ingrained into me.
I followed her orders, and like I was dancing, floating in a dream, I crept into Nick’s room, my teacher's voice moulding my mind into her puppet.
Taking the sharpest knife from the dorm kitchen, a butcher blade, I sliced Nicolas Cross into pieces when he was curled up in bed. It was the first time he looked human, and the sight of him almost woke me up. Almost stopped me.
What are you waiting for, Lucy? Do you want to be the best or not?
I did.
So, I cut into him.
When his blood splattered my face, I fought back, fought to stop, but Mrs Mayor told me to keep going.
You're doing so well! Sever the demon!
I continued, hacking him apart, forcing the blade through muscle and bone.
Nicholas’s roommate watched me with a dazed smile.
When I caught his eye, he started laughing.
“He’ll come back,” the boy chuckled. “Don't you think I've tried that?”
The knife slipped from my fingers, but Mrs Mayor’s voice was still in my head.
So loud, like claps of thunder.
I had to be the best.
Panicking, I grabbed a piece of Nick, and stuffed his flesh into my mouth.
I chewed, barfed, forcing it down with water.
My body worked like a marionette, my teacher cheering me on.
I snapped out of it when I was chewing my way through his torso.
“Yes, Lucy! What a creative idea!”
When I was on my knees, covered in Nicholas Cross’s blood, I waited for him to come back, to magically piece himself back together. But he didn't.
I walked into class, narrowly missing a girl trying to stab me through the eye.
Thea tried to asphyxiate me in my sleep.
I took Nick’s spot, immediately cementing myself into the minds of my classmates.
With him dead and gone, I was the top student.
But I was also free of the parasite in my brain, and fully aware of what I had done.
Mrs Mayor’s voice was gone, and I was a fucking monster.
It didn't take long for the students to crave me.
They want to take my spot, their frenzied eyes following my every move.
Thea tried to kill me last night again.
She apologised, but I know she's not going to give up.
I have my own problems, though.
I'm really gassy, and I can't stop throwing up.
This morning, I knelt on the bathroom floor for three hours, heaving up nothing. But I can already feel him.
He's been in my stomach for days, slowly stitching himself back together. His fingers are there, I can feel them.
He's clawing his way back up my throat, expanding in my mouth, phantom fingers protruding through my gnawing lips, trying to force them open.
Please help me. I'm at Monis Academy, and I just ate the top student. I know we don't exist on any Google search, but I promise you, we’re here and we need help.
I'm so fucking scared of what's inside me.
What I've done.
There's a sickness here that turns us into monsters, a devil who is playing games.
Nicholas Cross wants to retake his top spot.
I clamp my mouth shut, but he just laughs.
He wails at me, telling me I killed the wrong devil.
And so did the girl who held the top spot before Nicholas, an endless echo of top students. They're never going to stop, never going to leave me alone.
All of them, inside me.
Inside Nicholas.
Because no matter what I do, they are are always going to come back.

I’m angry. I’m absolutely livid at Kenzie for what she’s done. All of those people are dead because of her. She didn’t just kill them, she ate them. I can’t imagine how scared they were as Kenzie dragged them to her hideout. I sometimes wonder if she killed them before eating them or if she started feasting on them while they were still kicking and screaming. Most of all, I’m angry because she left me alone. Like the gazelle that befriends a lion, I had fallen in love with a demon.
Kenzie gave me a note before she vacated the officer’s body.
“It breaks my heart to leave you. However, I cannot take you with me. I will always be on the run. I will always be hunted. I do not want that life for you. I want you to live and be happy. Please forget about me, my love.”
Coming back home to our home without her in it was heartbreaking. I knew I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t afford this place on my own. I had to sell what I could and throw away what I couldn’t. I left the place I called home for years with nothing but a suitcase of clothes, some pictures and some DVDs. I had to move back in with my parents.
I was showered with kindness and sympathy upon my return. I appreciated it but I needed to be alone. I spent a few days in my childhood bedroom crying, not knowing what I would do next. I know Kenzie was a killer, but I couldn’t help but miss her still. She was the light of my life, the sun to my moon. We shared so much, only for it all to go down like it did. I missed those evil eyes of hers. I was lost without her.
I had to get her back, and I found a way to do it.
“On an old forgotten grave Sits a mansion, moonlight bathe Within is a spider of tricks Complete her games, get your fix Lose, you will become hollow Win, great fortune will follow Respect the spider of games Or you will never be the same”
I won’t go into detail about how I found this poem, nor about how I went about finding the mansion detailed within. I don’t want anyone else to attempt this. It’s too dangerous.
I first scoped out the area during the day. The forgotten grave is a hill on a lonely stretch of road. The mansion only manifests during the witching hour, and only if a specific ritual is done. Again, I will not detail the ritual here for fear of someone else attempting the game. The area looked rather nice in the daylight. I could have imagined taking Kenzie here on a picnic.
I returned that night. I will say about the ritual that it requires the sacrifice of the joint of one of your fingers. Hopefully that knowledge will deter people. Different fingers will determine what the great fortune is. Since I came for love, I gave the joint of my ring finger where my wedding band still resided. My finger was throbbing as I was driving towards the spot. A certain “what if” kept intruding into my mind. What if the mansion wasn’t there? What if I had performed the ritual wrong or perhaps the legend was just a legend. I would have disfigured myself for nothing and I would be back at square one.
I passed some trees and the hill was in full view. Bathed in the light of the full moon, the mansion loomed over me. It was a wooden structure standing three stories tall, probably built in the 1800’s. I slowly drove up to the front porch, my heart pounding in my chest. The glass of every window was broken, I could see little broken shards here and there. They had been boarded up. The door stood open as if inviting me inside. In the distance, I could see a few cars. They were abandoned. Many of them were old, others quite new. I could also see the bones of a few horses scattered around. These must have been left by previous contestants who had lost the games.
I stepped outside. The chill of the night air sent a shiver through me. It was my last chance to leave, I could go and never come back. However, the idea of leaving without doing what I could to get Kenzie back was more than I could take. I had to move forward. I stepped into the mansion. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was difficult to breathe. A grand staircase stood before me, covered in a moth-eaten rug that I think might have been red at one point. Doors surrounded me, shrouded in darkness. In the middle of the entrance hall, I spoke my wish.
“I wish for my wife to become human.”
If she no longer needed to kill, then we could settle down.
There was no dramatic acknowledgement of my wish. I heard no voices. There was no wind, or immediate danger. The door behind me didn’t even shut. I looked around, not sure what I was supposed to do. I took a deep breath and started ascending the stairs. The steps creaked with every movement I made. I pulled out a low-powered flashlight. Since the windows were boarded, little moonlight came in. I shone the light around as I came to a hallway lined with doors. I assumed the game had already begun, but I didn’t know what I was playing. I figured the game would make itself obvious sooner or later.
I opened the first door I came to. Inside was just a standard looking bedroom. I stepped inside. I spotted a couple moth carcasses scattered about, most stuck in webs. I remembered the line in the poem “lose, and you will become hollow.” If I was not careful, I could share the same fate as these moths. I looked to the bed. I could see a dress lying there. It was a deep, dark red with pink frills and bows. It was covered in dust, same as everything else. I walked over.
The dress looked like that of a child. I wondered if she had been a contestant, or if she had lived here before this place was what it is now. I shone the light around, wondering if I could get any other clues about the owner of this dress. I eventually came across a small photograph.
The girl had long curly pigtails, and held a small bear to her chest. She was wearing the dress currently on the bed. Her cheeks were sunken in and she was sitting in an old fashioned wheelchair. Her arms were thin as reeds. It looked like they would shatter from just the strain of hugging her stuffed animal. The bear looked pretty standard, and was wearing a sailor uniform. Perhaps this was the game, perhaps I had to reunite the dress with the bear.
I explored the room for the bear. It wasn’t there. I checked the closet, under the bed, everywhere. I even checked under the mattress. It must have been in another room. I promised the dress I would bring her the bear. I don’t know why, but I could almost feel a presence coming from the dress. It felt very faint. I would say it was just my imagination, but everything else hadn’t been so far, why would this? I began opening doors, and searching for the bear. I saw a game room, a small library, a toilet, none of which contained what I was looking for.
I nearly dropped my flashlight when I came across the stairs leading to the third floor. Sprawled on the steps was an old, withered skeleton. The body was wearing a varsity jacket from the fifties. It was stained in blood, long since dried up. There were three vertical slash marks up the back of the jacket. I stood there, staring at the body, my breathing heavy. I couldn’t imagine what had made this. I moved closer to the skeleton, half expecting it to reach out to grab me but it remained stationary.
I could hear creaking coming from upstairs. I backed away from the stairs slowly, shutting off my flashlight. I was in near complete darkness, with only a couple beams of moonlight coming in from the boarded up window. The creaking was growing louder and louder. A heavy breathing sent shivers down my spine. I held my breath, clutching my chest in a desperate attempt to try and silence my racing heartbeat.
I heard a loud crack. I flattened myself against the wall. Whatever was nearby was huge. I could hear the breathing above me, nearly reaching the ceiling. I was already in darkness, but I shut my eyes regardless. I tried to make myself as small as I could, hopefully it wouldn’t notice me. The steps drew closer, sending shockwaves through the floor. Whatever it was, it was heavy. I feared it would break the floor and send us cascading into the void. I thought about those golden eyes of Kenzie. I had to remember what I was fighting for.
The unknown beast paused by me. I had to stifle a gasp. There was cold radiating from the beast. I bit my lower lip, trying not to make even a little bit of a noise. I heard a little grunt from above me, before it made an unnatural noise.
“Mama…” It sounded like a child, possibly the same little girl from that photo. There was no way something this big could make a noise like that. Moreover, there was a slight reverb in the voice, it almost sounded mechanical.
It took another step before speaking again. “Mama…” It matched the exact cadence of before. If this was a normal voice, there would be some subtle differences. It sounded like a recording. It took another step, then another. It said that damned word over and over, slowly growing more distant. When I heard the heavy steps turn a corner and get a comfortable distance away, I shined my light on the skeleton. The skull had been shattered into pieces. Perhaps the beast had stepped on it.
I began to slowly ascend up the stairs, careful to tread on the tips of my toes. My heart skipped a beat whenever the steps would creak. When they did, I had to pause, and listen for that monster’s return with the flashlight off. When I knew it was safe, I continued up. It felt like it took an hour to go up those steps. Eventually, I reached another hall with yet more doors. There was a rather nice looking door at the very end. Perhaps that was the master bedroom.
I crept forward, peeking in each room. I saw a spiral staircase leading to the attic, an office with another skeleton sprawled over an open safe. The corpse was dressed in what looked like 1920’s gangster wear. There was an abandoned pistol nearby. The slide was pulled back, indicating it was empty. I looked behind me, wondering if the body had some spare ammo. Perhaps I could use that gun to defend myself. I decided against it. I doubted the weapon was in working order after all these years, even if the guy had extra bullets on it. Besides, despite being Texan, I had never fired a gun in my life.
Still, I didn’t know whether to check the office, or the master bedroom. The bear would probably be in one of those rooms. If the girl died young, which it looked like she may have, one of the parents could have kept the bear for themselves. It seemed like a very private trinket, so I guessed it might be in the office.
I heard the creaking again. I slipped into the office. I didn’t risk closing the door out of fear the creaking hinges would alert the beast. I tiptoed over to the body and reached in the pockets. I found the familiar rectangular shape of a switchblade. I hid under the desk, holding the knife to my chest. I shut the light off just as I heard the breathing in the hallway again. I tried to breathe as quietly as I could, but my heartbeat throbbed in my ears. It was so loud I thought the monster might be able to hear it. The creature had to know I was here.
The floors shook again as the beast drew closer. As one of the feet fell, I hit the button on the knife. I felt for the blade, but it wasn’t there. I put a hand over my chest to try and keep myself from hyperventilating. The creature could be heard just outside the office door.
“Mama…”
That echoing voice sent a shock through my system. I reached out slowly, feeling around the drawer of the desk. I peeked out a little. I could see a slice of moonlight shining in the hall from the open door. I took the useless switchblade, pulling it back. I lobbed it as hard as I could, careful not to make a sound. The handle flew, and smacked into the hallway wall. The creature began to move further down the hall, granting me a few precious seconds.
I slid the drawer open, and plunged my hand in. I felt something soft so I grabbed it. I could fear a round ear and two marble eyes. It was the bear. I found it. I had to get out of there. I heard the beast enter the master bedroom. Now was my chance. I turned the light on but kept my hand over the light. I only let a couple thin streams of light escape. I slipped into the hallway. The creature shuffled around in the bedroom. I started creeping towards the stairway. I was chewing on my lower lip at this point from the stress. Then, there was silence. It had spotted me.
I started rushing down the stairs. There was an explosion of sound as the creature took chase. It was making a beeline straight towards me. I didn’t bother hiding my light. I rushed down the steps three or four at a time. The monster was faster than me, but it wasn’t as agile. I felt the staircase shake as the creature slid to a stop. When I finally descended the stairs, I tore down the hall. I heard the beast crash down at the base of the steps.
It was getting closer. I could feel the breathing on the back of my neck. It was cold, sending shivers down my spine. I turned a corner into the girl’s room. I felt a sharp pain slicing into my calf. I didn’t have time to scream. I pulled myself in. The creature slid to a stop again, but the cracking from the doorframe told me it had caught itself. It was about to come inside.
I collapsed on the bed, placing the bear on the dress. There was silence. I looked behind me. There was a deep gash on the door frame made up of three vertical slashes, just like the body on the stairs. However, there was no sign of the creature, yet I could feel I was not alone.
I saw her in her full glory, despite the darkness. She wore a thin dress of spider silk. Her skin was black as ink, her joints were segmented. She had no hair on her head, but her face was dotted with many red eyes. Her fingers were long and spindly, and many threads extruded from the tips. I felt no evil coming from her, just an ancient aura that was far beyond my comprehension. She came to me, her feet making tiny clicks against the wooden floor, and bound my wound in silk. She didn’t speak a word, just gave me a knowing nod. My wish had been granted.
I left the house, and drove away from that place. I drove until I could no longer. I slept on the side of the road. When I finally got home the next evening, there was an unfamiliar car awaiting me in the driveway. Someone was sitting on the hood. She looked up as I drove up. Her eyes were dark. When I got out, she came up to me, tears running down her cheeks. She was a bit taller than me, long dark blonde curls flung over one shoulder. I couldn’t see her eyes, nor did I recognize the form she took, but I recognized the pink lip gloss she wore on our first date.
Kenzie and I held hands, not saying a word for a long, long time. There was so much she wanted to tell me, but there would be time for that later. She was only able to choke out two words that night. “Thank you.” We embraced, never to be apart again. Although I would always miss her golden eyes, I was thankful she was in my life again.
Update: Kenzie’s old vessel was released from prison. It didn’t make the news, but I received a photo of her on a beach in a red waitress uniform. On the back of the picture written in Sharpie was “Thank you for giving me my life back.” I felt a pang of guilt remembering what she had been through. I checked the logo on her shirt to see if I could find the restaurant she was working at. It looks like she’s living in California now. Additionally, the vessel Kenzie is currently in is a woman who’s been in a coma her whole life. Her spirit had long since passed on to the great beyond. Kenzie and I are getting remarried soon.