About the Adventure:
In the northwestern reaches of the continent of Avistan lies the mysterious Saga Lands. This is a frontier-land filled with vast forests, towering mountain ranges, sprawling swamps, and expansive deserts of sand and snow. Don’t think that wilderness is all that’s in store as the Saga Lands is also home to bustling city-states, druidic tribes, nomadic clans, and storied kingdoms. Each with their own cultures and legends.
As you travel throughout this far-flung region you will encounter monstrous enemies, ancient knowledge, powerful magic, lost treasures, and enigmatic mysteries. Across the harsh landscape and beneath the surface lie the ruins of a long forgotten empire. Fauna large and small roam the wilderness in greater numbers than anywhere else in Golarion. As deadly monsters prowl the lands between the pockets of civilization. And within the great towns and politicking cities a new saga arises.
The Saga Lands are a realm of unending adventure, mystery, and ancient power. Whether you are battling terrifying linnorms, exploring ancient ruins, traversing harsh the landscapes, or investigating the intrigue of cities-states. There is no shortage of legends waiting to be written.
About the Game
LGBT+ and BIPOC friendly. I’ve had issues with people before so I’m putting this in first :)
Hello to all TTRPG players new and experienced! I’m a semi-experienced DM and I’m looking to add a couple more players to my Pathfinder 2e game. This campaign is both mine and my players first foray into the system. So, we will be learning and exploring as we go along.
We will be using discord for voice and Foundry for maps.
About Me: I’ve been playing D&D for 3 years now, and DMing for my group for a year and half now. I’m 22 years old and my pronouns are he/they. I really enjoy art so I might draw some scenes or characters. My DMing style is definitely more rule of cool/laidback. I like to have fun with my roleplaying games, but can be serious when the time calls for it.
Roleplay: This is going to be somewhat of a more roleplay focused game. Don’t get me wrong I like combat, but I want to make it more than just a hack-and-slash. My favorite part of TTRPGs is the storytelling aspect of it. I love to explore characters, npcs, and backstories, and I want to work with my players on their backstories and incorporate them into the world.
Time: This will be a weekly game either on Saturday or Sunday at 7:00pm CST. I’m willing to change the time an hour or two, but the days aren’t really able to be changed.
If this all sounds good then please fill out this form https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSepB6cxCT6_7ycJ2h3nj0gljmixEquJxqf8xmd9NGK8xRWLxQ/viewform?usp=pp_url

Final Fantasy is one of the biggest(if not the biggest) RPG franchises out there. As an anthology series, the games each hold a different world, every single numbered installment, as well as a different story. The patterns that connect the stories are there in order to keep a Final Fantasy game a Final Fantasy game. They’ve been able to make these games feel consistent in their approach for about 10 installments, with the titles after 10 being more on the subversion side. Now that Final Fantasy 7 is getting a remake “trilogy”, this subversion has become a complete deconstruction of what made the series well loved. The new people in charge of the IP seemed to have lost the magic, resulting in the series becoming a hollow husk of its former self.
With so many RPG Maker people wanting to recapture the magic, as well as Square Enix itself, this brings up the question: what exactly is a Final Fantasy plot?
In the 80s, Final Fantasy was conceived as a response to TTRPG games like Dungeon and Dragons and computer RPG games like Wizardry, with Dragon’s Quest being an influence and sharing the same influences itself. These fantasy game influences created a lot of the gameplay, with the story coming from what came prior in the form of Tolkienesque stories. To further the chain of influence, these Tolkienesque stories were inspired by Arthurian romance and mythology, holding a big focus on how alchemy approached the combination of mythologies to express a monomyth. Carl Jung helped popularize the monomyth, along with Joseph Campbell, which would later establish the media usage of the hero’s journey. When Lord of the Rings came out, the prevention of the world ending by the usage of a MacGuffin became a staple in heroic fantasy storytelling.
Final Fantasy began with nameless characters of unknown origins, having you play as the 4 warriors of light. 4 warriors were picked to represent the 4 elements, the 4 corners of the world, with 4 monsters of the elements acting as their main form of opposition as they head to the final boss. Fire, water, air, and earth were treated as vulnerable crystals that must be restored, bringing order back to a chaotic world, with the final boss being Chaos itself, to end the game with a peaceful kingdom. Rather than a single ring to rule them all, the MacGuffins in FF1 are instead key items, each one unlocking a new location to move the story forward. The world map is entirely used, from land to sea to air, forcing a journey process across different areas as these heroes attempt to fix the world.
The gameplay focuses on classes, with each class serving a different party purpose, forcing the player to pick different types for easier results. Each class was given a different outfit, easy to tell the difference between their roles, with each one symbolically having a different personality. It’s not that they had a personality in the game where they never speak, but rather the roles they hold grant them different paths on how they got there. For example, the fighter would have to become physically stronger and knighted to become a knight, while the thief would have to sneak around and learn black magic to become a ninja. In fact, having more thieves in your team was a way to make the game harder, because of their lower HP.
This combination of classes and a quest to save the world changed upon the second installment, where characters were finally given names and backstories. Due to this held history, their hometown was presented as the catalyst for the story to begin, being saved by a princess this time as they start a rebellion against an evil Emperor. Sounds familiar? This is where Star Wars comes in more full, acting as an inspiration for the science fantasy elements that come in during the later half of this game and the first one. The final location of a floating island could be considered part of Star War’s Cloud City, but it can also be tied to the more Japanese inspiration of Castle in the Sky.
Studio Ghibli, the “Japanese Disney”, came out with this movie a year prior to Final Fantasy 1’s release. In this movie, steampunk retrofuturism was inspired by science romanticism books of the 1800s, while its castle in the sky was inspired by the floating island in the satirical novel Gulliver's Travels (1726). All of these are still directly inspired by both the hero’s journey of alchemical study (through Star Wars) and mythological journeys(with floating islands being found in Homer’s Odyssey). The steampunk style continued into later titles, allowing the usage of swords with the combination of robots to make sense to the player. This also reinforces a romantic approach to storytelling, as Arthurian romance and scientific romance are combined into a mythological premise concerning the end of the world and heroes who go out to save it with MacGuffins.
Two creatures that would play important roles for the heroes were both made by the same designer: Koichi Ishii. The Chocobo would be used as a giant bird that you ride like a horse, while the Moogle was meant to be a spiritual assistant that has a pom-pom growing out of its head, symbolically declaring itself as your personal cheerleader. The cat-like body of the Moogle, as well as its infinite source of magical assistance, could easily be traced back to the 60s blue cat named Doraemon. While the cute Moogle was based on a culturally significant source (as well as the kami of Japanese folklore), the chocobo turned itself into one by becoming a cute form of transportation, both allowing the game to become more appealing to kids and animal lovers. These additions allowed the traveling merchants of the game, as well as the trusty galliform, to serve more of a story purpose when their significant locations are visited.
By the time we hit Final Fantasy 6, the classes are changed from choosing outfits to become character locked. At this point, the characters themselves are the class, with more classes collected as more characters are collected along the way. Their backstories come with their discovery, allowing their hometowns to become different locations across the map, and their relationships growing into pre-game histories and future romances. The summoner, a special type of mage, is treated as the most important type of character, due to their control of creatures that are based on our polytheistic gods and some mythological characters. Their role is to serve as a humorous deus ex machina, a reference to how plays would use a god of mythology to interfere with a story and set things right when the writer usually wrote themselves into a corner.
The roles of characters each become a repetition of this setup from 6, causing several key plot points to occur. The main “leader” is a young male who holds a bladed weapon, in the form of a sword or dagger. This is the “Luke Skywalker” of the group who is aided by an older magician or mentor who shows him the ropes. Along the way, they find a “princess” with access to ancient powers who is able to lead them to the MacGuffin that will save the world. From the beginning, they are opposed by a “black knight” who is the shadow of the leader, with an emperor antagonist that is overshadowed by this black knight, leading to the final showdown that is fought in several stages.
Three stages are utilized to represent the destruction of the antagonist’s body, mind, and spirit. Their presence throughout the story is in the form of stages, acting as spiritual checkpoints for the heroic leader to confront their shadow. Once the evil “emperor” is defeated, the shadow's presence brings in the apocalypse that threatens the world, as well as their symbolic four horsemen. Across the journey of the main party, they unlock the 4 forms of transportation: earth(main map), water(boat), air (airship), and fire (combustion vehicle/chocobo). Each quest unlocks the next quest with the next ability to access it, whether it’s a key item or a form of this transportation.
Each game comes with about 10 hours of storylines, making up about a fifth of total gameplay for an average playthrough. This sounds like a lot, but when split up by the 5 point story structure, this gives about 2 hours per point. When we realize there are an average of 70 locations per game, we can feel overwhelmed by the amount of locations to visit. Thankfully, only a small handful are actual story locations and the majority are battle locations for gameplay. The trick to figuring out their location planning is all in the types of locations they go through.
Locations are split into two types: 1. Hub 2. Dungeon
Hubs come in: 1. Small merchant 2. Rest stop(usually a save point) 3. Village (people but no shops) 4. Town (people and shops) 5. City (people, shops, side quests) 6. Castle (people, shops, main quests)
The dungeons come in the variety of: 1. Grassy 2. Desert 3. Snowy 4. Mountain 5. underwater 6. Cave 7. Forest 8. Haunted House 9. Laboratory 10. Castle 11. Space/unknown
When we view it in this way, those 70 locations get split into 35 each, with about 4- 5 hubs for each type and 3 - 4 dungeons of each type. With how each game needs a main hub as the kingdom, the emperor’s tower, the shadow’s fortress, a hometown(plus dungeon) for each side character, 3 to 4 main islands, and remakes of locations caused by running themes(like the gardens in 8), the tall order becomes far more shorter than presumed. The gathering of the side characters make up the bulk of act 2, which include: 1. A driver of the airship 2. An unconventional “mancer” 3. A gag character 4. One who betrays the empire (sometimes comes as an NPC or temporary character) 5. Secret characters 6. A tragic character (seeks revenge on the empire) 7. A dragoon (or sniper in the case of FF8
These character types can be combined in any way, but the goal is to include them for a full experience.
As for villains, the typical boss will be based on a particular weakness to a single(or theme based) type of attack. Reoccurring “Team Rocket” style battles will act as another form of story checkpoint, with these goons being a creature like Ultros or a trio like The Turks. In the final dungeon, a boss rush will either summon a lot of previous bosses to take you on at a higher level, or introduce a cast of new bosses that are to be fought at different layers. The defeat of a boss is meant to be the ending of a quest and the expansion into the next quest area until the game is over, with optional bosses causing neither of these(hence the name “optional”). The normal enemies of the area are (supposed) to train the player for the encounter with the boss of that same area.
Final Fantasy followed this simple formula for about 10 installments until the PS2 era started to make it shaky and then Final Fantasy 12 removed the doomsday weapon. 13 removed the male lead and any coherent recollection of a main antagonist. Once we got to 15, the doomsday weapon was back but now the summonings are treated like main characters. The remake of 7 flips everything on its head as it tries to force Midgar to be a world of its own, not realizing that the journey requires the player to leave the castle and get on an airship within the same game. As time goes on, the romanticism of its origins will be lost and it will just be building over itself without understanding where any of the structure comes from, because each installment comes with more deconstruction.
Final Fantasy started as romantic mythology, tied together with the fairy tale magic of Disney and Studio Ghibli. Everything about it is supposed to be cute, aimed at kids, hits hard enough to make an adult cry, and blessed by the presence of consistency. We don’t need the games to be more realistic, we need them to be more enjoyable. But hopefully, with this guide, you will be able to make your own Final Fantasy one day. You will make it better, make it proper, and it will certainly not be the final time we see it.

If mods remove this, that's totally cool. I never post, but this shit's been spinning around in my head and I just didn't know what to do with it.
So I saw people analyzing the frame by frame "so figure it out" meme (I don't even know anymore which meme it's from but i was going by this screenshot...
https://imgur.com/a/63dbsry
Anyway, I found a pattern a few hours ago, but still have not been able to come up with what it means!! And I think it's too cohencidental to be coincidence. (Maybe it's a gamer thing? Or a computer programmy thing? Or maybe i'm just not seeing it? Or maybe i'm *completely* off base here and my brain is just mush. All of those are entirely possible at this point!)
So the phrase we're working with is clearly "so figure it out"
And like all good puzzles, I started from the end and worked my way backwards.
So the letters that are incorrect fall into this pattern...
SOFIGUREITOU -2
SOFIGUREITO -2 -2
SOFIGUREIT -2 -2 -6
SOFIGUREIT -2 -4 -8
SOFIGUREI -2 -4 -8 -14
SOFIGURE -2 -4 -8 -12 -20
SOFIGUR -2 -4 -8 -12 -20 -8
SOFIGU -2 -4 -8 -12 -18 -7
SOFIG -2 -4 -6 -12 -18 -6
SOFI -2 -4 -6 -10 -18 - 4
SOF -2 -4 -6 -10 -16 -2
SO -2 -4 -6 -10 -16 -2
S -2 -4 -6 -10 -16 -0
The numbers I wrote represent how far from the letter it's supposed to be it actually is. (And yes, for some of them I had to loop around from A to Z) For example, the last frame says "SO FIGURE IT OUV". The incorrect letter is a V and it's supposed to be a T. T is -2 spots away from V in the alphabet.
**A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z*\*
And so if you notice, all the missing letters follow a pretty steady pattern.
But the only thing I've been able to make of the numbers, is count backwards from the end of the alphabet and assign each letter a -number, and then I remove all duplicate letters/ numbers that show up on the line prior, I'm left with with "U S W M G O T I T Q K ". Which the end part "got it quick" makes sense, but the "swm" is still annoying the shit outta me. (And tbh, I'm hoping there's more to it than that and maybe the numbers mean something else. Because if "you got it quick" is the only goddamn answer to this freakin puzzle I'm gonna slap DFV if I ever happen to see him!!!)
Or maybe I'm completely off base... Who knows! But if this makes sense to you and anyone has any insight that I'm missing, please let me know!
(And if anyone has already solved this, please point me to that post and I'll delete this asap. Thanks!)

------------------
The Book of Harris-y
(Religion as it should be) -
by Zachary Harris
(cc) (NC) (ND) by Zachary Harris
May be copied, distributed, or displayed, verbatim only. non-commercial, not derivative works nor remixes.
First edition May 2024
Chapter 1 - What's in a name
Chapter 2 - A bunch of rules
Chapter 3 - Secrete origins
Chapter 4 - The end
Chapter 5 - Everybody's favorite topic: SEX
Chapter 6 - The 2000 year war
Chapter 7 - Humans and gods
Chapter 8 - Parables
Chapter 9 - Feedback
Chapter
CHAPTER 1
What's in a name
Some religions are named after it's main prophet. Christianity is named after christ. Buddhism is named after Budda.
I, Zach Harris, dub this religion HARRISy.
Where is it written that a religion can't have a sense of humor?
HARRISy is not a spoof or sarcasm.
But any religion without a sense of humor, absolutely NEEDS to be ridiculed.
I was raised in christianity. So most of my criticism will be aimed at the Abrahamic religions.
I intend to build harrisy on logic and reason. Not the superstition, lies, and, threats that the Abrahamic religions are built on.
As an alternative for conscientious objectors caught in the religious wars (see chapter 6).
Deities are not really necessary for inspiration or religion. An all-powerful creator wouldn't need the help or adulation of puny mortals.
Only cults and human puppet masters need that. So we leave deities to their own devises. They ought to be up to it.
Harrisy is a religion about/for humans, as religions should be.
My leadership skills suck. So I will avoid leading, to avoid becoming a cult.
Chapter 2
A bunch of rules
Everybody hates rules. But let's establish what Harrisy stands for.
10 rules is a nice round number. But when the first four are about loyalty to the cult, You have to question who the rules are meant to benefit.
The christian 'commandments' only benefit the christian cult. The commandments don't even benefit their god.
A true all-powerful, immortal, creator god, would not need human worship or loyalty. The same as humans don't need the worship of ants.
We don't make rules for ants to follow. Just stay out of our way. The Abrahamic god treats us like ants. Either ignores or steps on us. It was his cults that made the 'commandments', not their god.
(more about that in chapter 7)
Harrisy has rules to live by, to benefit HUMANS:
A) Cause no harm.
B) Treat others the way you want to be treated.
Christianity calls this 'The Golden Rule' as if they invented it. But this was part of every culture and religion that humans ever created. (except Is-lame)
C) Do not kill. Do not kill humans.
Self preservation may override this, but killing is still a bad idea.
When killing animals for food, respect their sacrifice. Killing for sport is a bad idea.
D) People are not property.
Do not try to own others, in any sense.
You belong to yourself, do not give yourself away.
E) Do not steal.
You would not want to loose your stuff. (see B) Stealing harms others.
F) Do not lie. Avoid those who lie.
You would want to know the truth. To make better decisions. (see B)
G) Do not rape.
Do not force yourself on others. Your pleasures are not more important than other people's.
This applies to more than just sex. Do not force your religion on others. Do not force harrisy on others.
H) Do not shit wherever you please.
You don't want to slog through other people's shit.
(it's a metaphor.) Leave the world better than you found it.
I) Guard your privacy. Respect the privacy of others.
Beware of others who might use info against you. Or might unduly profit off you.
We have no rules about loyalty. We understand loyalties change. Just be honest (rule E)
We have no rule specifically about Adultery. Adultery might be considered loyalty, which changes.
Or adultery might be considered stealing, stealing affection. (rule D)
Chapter 3
Secrete origins
No one knows how/why it all began. Anyone who says they know, for certain, is lying.
The answer night as well be 42.
Most religions make it a crime to ask questions about their creation myths. This promotes ignorance. Helps the cult, not the people.
We understand the 'scientific method'. Scientists ask questions and are willing to test and adapt to new info.
So, for now, we trust scientific conclusions about the beginnings.
The current best theories from science:
The universe started from what they humorously call 'The Big Bang', about 13.8 Billion years ago.
Many are curious about what came before that. But we find that to be irrelevant to our everyday life.
Some religions say their god did it so they can claim payment/gratitude/worship for it. But we owe them nothing.
The earth was formed about 4.5 Billion years ago.
Humans evolved from other critters over many, many, many Generations (not years).
Some religions claim their god did it so they can claim payment/gratitude/worship for it.
We do not owe Harrisy or any religion for our existence.
Chapter 4
The end
How does it all end?
No one knows. Anyone who says they know, for certain, is lying.
Christinity predicts a bad acid trip. (See Revaluations) Any day now. So buy your ticket to heaven early.
It's an obvious con, You sacrifice this life you already have, for the promise of another life they can't prove.
Science predicts 'Entropy'. Every atom in the universe will drift away from every other till they can't react any more.
But humans will be dead or evolved into something we can't recognize, by then. Too distant, time-wise, to worry about.
Your personal end? What happens when you die?
Most probably nothing.
Seems like every religion has a different 'afterlife'. They can't all be right. (but they can all be wrong)
You can't pick the one you want. If an 'afterlife' exists it is what it is. WE can't control it. No cult can control it.
The cults are telling you what you want to hear. So you give your CURRENT LIFE to their cult. The life that is certain, in exchange for an empty promise.
No guarantees, No refunds, You won't get your old life back if they are wrong (or lying).
Pascal's gamble is a sucker bet. It never pays out.
Harrisy aims to make This Current Life better, worth living for it's own sake. We give priority to This Current Life over any theoretical 'afterlife'.
Chapter 5
Everybody's favorite topic: SEX
What's the point of Sexual Taboos?
Why would an IMORTAL (non-sexual, non-reproducing) being give a damn?
For example in the christian cult:
*Masturbation is sin,
*Spilling your seed outside the womb is sin,
*Marrying outside the church is sin,
*Divorce is sin,
*Birth Control is sin,
*Abortion is sin,
*Marriages without offspring are invalid.
*Brand (circumcise) your males, so your females know who they are allowed to mate with,
And in Is-lame, Women are just sexual slaves.
Taken as a whole,
The only purpose served by sexual taboos, is to help the CULT out-populate rival cults.
A REAL "creator god" wouldn't give a damn. Or Wouldn't need our cooperation. it would just create more of us, as needed.
A REAL creator wouldn't threaten us, it would just change us.
Sexual Taboos are serving a cult, not a god.
Harrisy has only one sexual taboo:
Rule G) Do not rape.
Do not force yourself on others. Your pleasures are not more important than other people's.
Chapter 6
The 2000 year war
The Abrahamic religions have been at war with each other for about 2000 years. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.
But like some other religions, at all times attempting to be 'the one true religion'. And by their competition, doing more harm than good.
And the Abrahamic religions haven't even shown that the 'good' stuff needs their religion to get done.
They preach that it is somehow noble or their duty to spread their faith. ("Onward Christian Soldiers")
There are dangers associated with proselytism and/or evangelicalism:
(Please note - I had help with the following)
Focus on Conversion over Service:
Proselytism/evangelicalism prioritizes conversion goals over humanitarian or service-oriented activities.
This undermines the credibility and effectiveness of religious organizations engaged in charitable work,
as it is perceived as conditional or insincere.
Dogmatism and Exclusivity:
Evangelicalism/proselytism promotes a rigid, dogmatic interpretation of religious beliefs that excludes other perspectives.
This exclusivity leads to intolerance of differing viewpoints and hinders constructive dialogue and cooperation with people of other faiths or worldviews.
Coercion and Manipulation:
Proselytism/evangelicalism involves coercion, manipulation, or exploitation of vulnerable individuals,
such as offering material incentives or exploiting power differentials to induce conversion.
This raises ethical concerns about respect for autonomy and informed consent.
Political Activism:
Evangelicalism/proselytism has been associated with political movements that prioritize specific social or moral issues, leading to controversy and polarization.
this politicization blurs the lines between religion and politics, compromising the integrity of both.
Interfaith Tensions:
Proselytism/evangelicalism contributes to interfaith tensions and conflicts, especially when it is aggressive or disrespectful to members of other religious communities.
It will undermine efforts to foster mutual respect, understanding, and cooperation among different faith traditions.
Fragmentation of Communities:
Proselytism/evangelicalism leads to the fragmentation or division of communities, particularly in contexts where multiple religious groups coexist.
This creates social tensions and weaken social cohesion, especially when proselytism is conducted in a confrontational or divisive manner.
Proselytization and Missionary Work:
We are concerned about aggressive or coercive methods used in proselytization/evangelicalism efforts,
especially when targeting vulnerable populations or in multicultural contexts.
This leads to cultural imperialism or disrespect for the autonomy of individuals and communities.
Cultural Insensitivity:
Proselytism/evangelicalism disregards or disrespects the cultural and religious traditions of the target community.
This leads to cultural imperialism or colonialism, especially when proselytism/evangelicalism is conducted in contexts where there is a history of exploitation or marginalization.
Misrepresentation or Simplification of Beliefs:
Proselytism/evangelicalism involves oversimplification or misrepresentation of religious beliefs and practices in order to make them more appealing to potential converts.
This leads to misunderstandings or misconceptions about the beliefs and traditions of the proselytizing religion.
For these reasons we conscientious objectors to the religious war, need an uncompetitive religion like Harris-y.
But don't push it.
Chapter 7
Humans and gods
Why do human religions have gods that are all too human?
A creator of everything that needs humans to wright/publish a holy book?
An all powerful god who needs humans to promote him?
An all powerful god with a vindictive human sized ego?
An immortal who is obsessed with human reproduction?
An all powerful god who needs humans more than we need him?
Any actual god wouldn't need human religion.
Harrisy serves humans, not gods.
Chapter 8
Parables
Corn In A Cow Patty.
Finding truth in the Abrahamic holy books,
is like finding corn in a cow patty.
Sure there are some good kernels in there,
but is it really worth digging through the shit to find them?
You can find uncontaminated kernels of truth anywhere.
Chapter 9
Feedback
Feedback should be sent to: [zachharris@mail2hell.com](mailto:zachharris@mail2hell.com)
Don't expect a timely reply.

Introduction
Muslims believe the Quran, the holy book of Islam itself is not just a religious book for guidance but also the literal word of god i.e. Allah itself. In everyday conversations, you will hear Muslims call it Kalamullah (Word of God), not in the Christian sense where the Word is Jesus and God but actual sayings, sentences, and words uttered by god himself and compiled into a single book by human hands. While Muslims are proud of their holy book being the literal words of god sent down to all of mankind, there are a few problems with that mainly concerning Islam's doctrinal theology and its core beliefs.
Disclaimer and Notes
Now, before I start, a disclaimer. The issue of the Quran being god's word or not has been one of the most pretentious and divided issues in the Muslim community. Because of this issue, multiple sects (considered deviant and heretical today) popped up in the early years of Islam's history leading to multiple debates, condemnations, and even inquisitions for those that were against the majority-held view in history. So to make it easy considering Islam has tons of historical sects, all of whom held widely different views than modern-day Islam when it comes to the Quran's states as the word of god (or not), this post is aimed at Ashari, Maturidi and Ahlul Hadith/Athari aqeedah sects who make up the majority of Muslims today, collectively considered to be under the umbrella of Ahlul Sunnah Wal Jema'ah (Literally meaning "The People of the Prophet's Tradition and Consensus" or to make it easier to understand "The Followers of the Prophet's Teachings and the Righteous Community"). This term is commonly understood in Islam as those who follow the true and righteous path in Islam which according to the hadiths, out of 73 deviant sects, only 1 (the above I already mention) will be on the correct spiritual path.
Why do I say this problem is akin to the Trinity problem in Christianity? Both are key problems that form the basis of the entire religion, not just for an individual believer but also for the scholars who dabble in religious sciences. Both the Quran and Trinity make up the core fundamental teachings upon which other teachings are established and expanded further. Without these key concepts, the entire premise of both religions (Islam and Christianity) would fall apart within a matter of seconds. Both issues are also hotly debated even to this day. As I mentioned before, the issue of the Quran's creation or non-creation was an important issue that occupied the minds of early-century Muslim scholars and thinkers, to the point schisms and breakaways from the main branch started to emerge. The same thing happened in Christianity with the Trinity which led to excommunication, the Arian controversy, and multiple individual distinct sects, all of whom have a different understanding of what the Trinity is.
Last, I would also like to mention that considering the Trinity has been severely criticized by non-Christians alike as proof of Christianity's falsehood and internal contradictions, then the same should be said with Islam's problem of the Quran's status. However, unlike in Islam, Christianity continued to debate up to the present day and even adopted Greek philosophical concepts to better explain away the Trinity and the relationship between each Divine Person of the Trinity. In Islam, the opposite occurred. Those who used Greek philosophy and rhetoric were condemned as either falling into falsehood or corrupting the religion by introducing pagan concepts. Ironically, the most condemned bunch of the Muslim sects I'll talk about below, the Mutazilites were the ones who most used philosophy which led to their rejection of the Quran's non-createdness.
Due to the decline of the Mutazilite sect, the rise of more conservative movements, and the criticism of Aristotelian philosophical ideas by Al-Ghazali (Note, he wasn't against philosophy, he was against philosophical ideas that went against Islam like the eternity of the world and denying bodily resurrection in the afterlife), theological discussions and debates surrounding the question faded away. Even now, most Muslims consider the issue "solved" and simply adopt one of the three main positions. Unsurprisingly, while the West and Christianity continued adopting new ideas, this means the Muslim positions lacked much substance and arguments seen in Christianity with Greek and Neo-Platonist ideas which in turn, means there are tons of problems with their positions, (which is the whole point of the post)
Now, with that out of the way, let's begin.
How Have Muslims Historically Responded to this Problem?
There are two answers to the question of the Quran's status. One, to affirm that it is the literal word of god from Allah Himself which existed with him since eternity or to affirm it is a created being just like every other creature and human planet earth. The second view doesn't mean that the Quran is simply the work of man, quite the opposite. Rather, it posits that the Quran still holds religious significance as Islam's holy book and is still the Word of God but it was created at a later time by God, not existing eternally with god before the creation of everything. In the second view, the Quran still holds religious significance for praying, guidance, and the basis for Islam, only that it is of a lower status than god himself, being a creation of god that was created at a certain time.
The second view is considered invalid and rejected by all major sects of Islam in the modern era (Ashari, Maturidi, Athari) as a heretical belief that the Mutazilites (The Withdrawers) held. I'm not going to go into who they are, what is their history, or what are their beliefs (you can google it yourself). Just know these are the guys who believe the Quran was a creation of god and were condemned by pretty much every Islamic group and sect from their beginning all the way up to the present modern day. This is one the only issues where every Islamic sect agrees with each other in condemning this belief, be it Ashari, Maturidi, or Athari. Thus, the second option then is 100% of the table for most Muslims, unless they want to affirm holding beliefs of a heretical group that died out 1000 years ago. I don't think any Muslim will dare to affirm Mutazilite beliefs for fear of ridicule and committing major sins, so there's not much here to discuss. For the sake of brevity, I will address the second view since the one even Muslims will deny and reject. After that, I'll address the Second View.
The Second View
But for the sake of argument, I'll assume some rare brave Mutazilite Muslim wants to give it a try. Now, here are some of my questions for you. If the Quran is a creation of god and not the literal Word of God before time immemorial, what is the Quran's relationship with god? You believe these are still words from Allah that help mankind to arrive at the truth and Islam yet at the same you also believe that these were created at a time later than god. How can something that is both speech from god and also created by god himself exist simultaneously at the same time? Anything that is created at a later time means it's a creation, a contingent object that depends on an external creator. It can't be part of god because god is eternal, atemporal, necessary, and independent of everything and anything. If it were god or contained some part of god inside of it, then this is no different than Jesus and the Son of God in Christianity where it contains both a human and godly nature, so does that mean you now believe the Quran to be both god and creation? Just like the Christians who you condemn as a false corrupted religion? This is the First Problem you must face, that be affirming it is both from god and not god, you are throwing yourself into the same pit as Christianity with a dual nature which is already a false religion. I like to call people who affirm this stance "Dualists".
The Second Problem "dualists" face is that this nullifies the Quran's honorific status in Islam, which goes against what the majority of the Muslim world believes in. For Dualists, what is the Quran's honorific and spiritual status in Islam now? We've all seen Muslim riots and protests against the burning or stepping on the Quran by non-Muslims around the world. A man burns or rips up the Quran and the entire Muslim world goes into a frenzy. In Islam, simply placing the Quran on the floor is considered disrespectful and sinful. In the majority of sects today, the Quran must be honored and respected 24/7 partly due to the fact Muslims believe it to be the literal Word. But for Dualists, what is your stance and reason for continuing to respect the Quran? Considering you no longer believe the Quran to be the actual Word, can non-Muslims now vandalize, rip apart, step on, or place the Quran on the floor?? Would you have any problem with it? It's no longer the Word itself but a creation of god. Sure, you might ask others to "respect other religions and beliefs" but aside from this, what else do you have?? Is simply putting a religious book on the floor disrespecting other religions? What makes your holy book now any different from the Jewish and Christian perspectives on their religious books? They don't go into a frenzy every time Bibles are burned or disrespected. Will you do the same thing?
The Third Problem since it's a created thing, wouldn't this also mean that at some point in the future, the Quran no longer exists? That the Quran is finite and will at some point cease to exist? Wouldn't this mean at some point, Islam itself becomes useless because the number one source for everything, the Quran no longer exists? The Quran will cease to exist if it were created, when it happens, will the meaning of the verses and Muslim understanding built up over the centuries also cease to exist? Tafsirs, Fiqh, and Tajwid all suddenly become useless and void of any meaning because the backbone of Islam, the Quran no longer exists. What about the Muslim understanding of what Allah is? Isn't that detrimental should the Quran cease to exist? The best outcome is that Muslims still retain the knowledge but Islam becomes spineless without a religious book and the worst outcome is the complete disintegration of Islam as everything built upon the Quran, now becomes useless. It would mean the complete death of Islam as a major Abrahamic religion.
Next, what about during the Hour, when everything in the heavens and on the Earth will be destroyed and no longer exist? Muslims believe that when the Hour arrives, everything will be destroyed. Every human, child, animal, plant, planet, universe, devil, and angel will die inevitably. Only god remains. Due to this, according to Dualists, will the Quran experience the same fate? All of its verses and Surahs destroyed by god himself. Now I know Muslims, even those of other sects believe the Quran will disappear bit by bit before the Hour as a sign of the impending doom and apocalypse. However, other Muslims believe that yes, the Quran will disappear but the verses themselves remain preserved with god i.e. Allah since these are the literal words of god himself. In a sense, the verses suddenly don't exist, they return back to god.
TLDR, the Dualist Mutazilite view implies a contradiction where the Quran is both God and not God at the same time, it nullifies the Quran's holy status and the divine meaning of the verses, and last, it means the Quran is finite and will cease to exist at some point in the future.
Now, onto the Ashari, Maturidi and Athari sects,
The First View (The Majority)
These three are the most prominent and widely held doctrinal sects in the current Muslim population. I will be splitting the next sections into two sections, Ashari-Maturidi (since both are quite similar and considered a single unified school of thought by Muslim scholars) and the Athari school.
Ashari-Maturidi
The Asharis and Maturidis believe the Quran and its verses to be the literal Word of God itself, with Allah since eternity before time however they believe the book form of the Quran (mushaf), the one which every Muslim holds and reads is of man-made origin. In other words, the verses, sentences, letters, and meaning of the text are from god himself while the cover, paper, ink, writing, and publishing are from mankind. The Ash'ari creed makes a point of difference between the content of the Quran and the physical manifestation of it (in speech or as pages in a book).
The Main Problem with this argument as said by Atharis and Mutazilites is that this strips the Quran of its spiritual and holy essence in Islam. If the real divine aspect of the Quran that came from god itself are the verses and meaning of it only, then should we burn every last Quran in the world, it wouldn't be a problem. After all, the divine part still exists as it is from and with god himself, only the earthly worldly portions of it get destroyed. Why's that a problem? I mean what is the problem spiritually concerning Islam's doctrinal theology itself? What's the problem with destroying the cover or vandalizing the writing of it? It's not from god, it's man-made. The effect of this would be enormous.
This means now non-Muslims and Islamaphobes can now burn, rip, tear apart, step on, vandalize, and desecrate the Quran because they are only destroying the part that is not divine. Would Asharis or Maturidis agree to this? Is now destroying the Quran not a major sin but actually allowed? The true essence of the Quran i.e. the part that is truly divine remains preserved and exists since humans were created and will continue to exist long after everything has died and withered away. The vandalization and desecration of it does not affect the Quran because the true divine verses and meaning remain preserved. This problem is similar to the Second Problem with the Mutazilite belief, it nullifies and strips away the Quran's holy status and honorific place among the Muslim community. If it isn't truly god's divine word, what's the problem if it gets destroyed, wet, or burned?
Heck, I've heard this same argument from other sects, claiming and accusing the Ashari are just Mutazilites in disguise because their main stance of the Quran's identity revolves back to the Mutazilite position where the Quran is a creation of god. One of the main accusations against the Ashari sect is that it's just a rehash version of Mutazilite or Jahmiyyah theology (I don't have time to explain what this is right now, better if you look it up yourselves) due to similarities in doctrine and also because Imam Ashari, the founder was once a Mutazilite himself (not helping the Ashari case) but Asharis claim he renounced all Mutazilite theology and returned back to the true correct path. In this case, should the objection above against the Ashari-Maturidi position succeed, then it would help critics a lot against Asharism.
The Second Problem with holding the Ashari position is that this resembles the idolatry of Hinduism and Paganism or at least, is slipping into idolatry practice. If they claim the Speech of God is contained within the letters, pages, and ink of the Mushaf (the Quran's Uthmanic standardized codex), then how dare they believe the actions of humans can absorb and physicalize the Sacred Divine Speech of God, for Muslims believe god can never be limited by His creatures. This would also mean they believe the ink written on the Quran's pages is a physical intermediary, designed to encapsulate the Speech of God into a physical form, no different than the idols of Hindus and Pagans who believe their idols to be an intermediary or a worldly representation of the True Divine Nature.
Hindus don't claim they worship idols, rather they believe them to be ways to spiritually connect with the divine as a locus for prayer just like how Muslims consider the Kaaba as the direction for prayer, not an idol for worship or as a reminder for believers of the faith similar to how a photo of a spiritual leader is a sign of respect and a daily reminder every-day when you wake up. How is this different than believing the ink inside the Quran holds the truth or emulates the Divine Nature from the Ashari claim? Ashari Muslims affirm the Quran is still the Word of God just represented through a physical form, so how is this not idolatry? Believing that a physical human-made physical manifestation holds the Divine Speech so that followers of Islam can get closer to god?
This would be even worse than the Mutazilites, for committing idolatry whether intentionally or not is a major grave sin in Islam, to the point those that who commit it and do not repent back are considered as Kafir (infidels). If even they aren't committing idolatry and shirk (polytheism), another major sin in Islam, then at the very least, they believe that a divine part of God can be captured inside the ink and pen of writers as if they the Speech of God and the ink become one and the same, another reference to the Christian belief of God having both a Divine and Human Nature. Of course, Muslims and Ashari Muslims consider this to be heretical and blasphemous, but what's the difference between believing the Quran is both man-made and divine versus the Christological belief of Jesus being both God and Man?
The Third Problem with the Ashari answer that the Quran itself is created while the Speech of God isn't is where is the Speech of God then? Asharis can't answer that it is still in heaven for they also believe the Mushaf or Quran contains the Word and Speech of God. If they believe that it is still in heaven with god and not on earth, then what are they even reading every day? Clearly not the Speech of God if they claim it isn't with us now, perhaps an imperfect human copy of the divine Speech of God but that would mean the Quran is imperfect and the work of man, which would be affirming the Mutazilite position. So they can't claim it is both in the heavens and on the earth nor claim it is either in the heavens only or on the earth with mankind only.
I already explained they also can't say the Speech of God is contained inside the ink and letters of the Quran for that means the Divine Speech has become limited because of it. God in Islam can never be limited, nor can His creatures limit god. So if isn't option A, B, or C, where is the Holy Sacred Speech of God then? The Speech which is supposed to be the principle guiding force for all of mankind especially, Muslims. How can Asharis then claim they believe in the Quran as the revelation and Word of God sent down to Muhammad if they can't tell us where in their holy book, is the Speech of God itself? At worst, this means the Ashari belief entails the Quran isn't holy or divine thus eliminating Islam's entire main source and one of the 6 pillars of Iman (faith), and at best, reading the Quran isn't a holy act nor can be used as a book for guidance, for Muslims aren't reading the Word of God then. They are reading an imperfect fallible man-made copy of the Speech of God, not the true Divine Inspiration from Allah.
TLDR, the Ashari-Maturidi middle path that the Quran was uncreated and eternal, yet its ink and paper, individual letters and words were created strips the Quran has multiple problems, some may even go against what Islam stands for. It strips the Quran of its Divine Sacred Essence as the Word of God, at worse it may lead to shirk and idolatry akin to the Hindus and Pagans, and at best, Asharis can't point to us where the Word and Speech of God is in the Quran.
Athari/Ahlul Hadith
Now for the Atharis, they are strict literalists who believe the Quran and Allah's Speech both are uncreated unlike the Asharis/Maturidis who adopt a middle path, or the Mutazilite who outright claim the Quran was created, the extreme position.
The First Problem with the Athari position is pretty clear, if the Quran is the literal Word of God completely, then does that mean what Muslims are holding is a literal piece of God here on earth in the moral realm? Does that mean god is with us all the time? How can god, who Muslims consider as being transcendent be here on earth with mankind? If the Quran is the literal physical Speech of God and not just metaphorically or analogically, then does this mean the Speech of God exists on Earth? How can god be here on Earth? The Atharis believe literally that the Quran is the Speech of God, so unless they claim the Speech of God suddenly transformed into a physical object (which I'll address below), the Quran would be a god or at least have a piece of the divine essence of Allah.
This is no different than the Christian position where there exists a God in heaven and a God on Earth at the same time. As I already mentioned, Muslims consider the Christian position of a god on earth unacceptable yet when we look at their own views, we find (in the Athari case) a piece of god exists on earth. Allah still exists in the heavens, yet the Speech of God exists here in the Quran. Let's not even get into the issue of a transcendent god existing in the mortal physical realm, where the laws of physics govern meaning god would be limited in some capacity (which most Muslims would see as ridiculous)
The Second Problem is the relationship between the Quran (God's Speech) and God himself. Considering the Quran was revealed to Muhammad and sent down by Gabriel, how should we understand the Speech of God is here now? Do Atharis believe that the Speech of God suddenly separated from the main body when the Quran was revealed and sent down to earth? Or do Atharis believe the Quran is still the undivided Speech of God, in which case a part of god is literally on earth?
Or what about when the Quran was compiled in book form starting with Abu Bakr's reign and ending with Uthman's standardization? Should we take this to mean now not only does the Speech of God literally exist on earth but the Speech of God now has taken shape, molded into letters and words while compiled into a book equipped with paper pages and covers from front to back? If they want to deny these are from god i.e. the physical cover is man-made, then they would be subscribing to the Ashari-Maturidi doctrine of the middle path (which I already showed also has problems). If they want to take the other path and claim the Quran we have now is not the Word of God literally, then they would be subscribing to the heretical Mutazilite position which also, has tons of religious and doctrinal problems.
TLDR, the Athari literalist position invites more harm than good when it comes to answering the question of the Quran's uncreated nature. It would mean god is literally on earth, or a piece of god's divine essence is. Affirming that a piece of the Divine Essence exists here on earth with mankind would be something similar to the Christian belief that god exists both in the heavens and on earth (Father and Son). Other than that, it would also complicate the relationship between the Quran and God even more. If the Quran is the literal Word and Speech of God, how do Atharis explain the Quran's standardization into a single written book with ink, paper, and covers? Does it mean the Speech of God underwent a physical transformation?
Consequences
Islam posits the Quran to be the Word of God from Allah Himself, however how exactly does that work leads to massive problems within Islam's doctrinal framework. Muslims can't state the Quran is the true literal Speech of God otherwise they would be committing a blasphemous act by believing god is literally on earth with us at this very moment. They also can't deny it is the Speech of God for Islam considers the Quran to be the perfect Kalamullah (literally the Word of God). It is one of the core tenets of belief that Muslims believe the Quran to be the actual Words of God sent down to Muhammad as the last revelation. They also can't adopt a middle path like the Asharis-Maturidis because I've already shown that this just leaves the Quran inside a grey area, it's both the Word of God and also not the Word of God at the same time. Other problems are also relevant which I've already discussed above. Either the middle approach collapses into itself, becoming either one the extreme views, literal divine affirmation like the Atharis, or the extreme divine nullification like the Mutazilites.
Other religions don't have this problem. They do not believe Jesus or Moses were gifted the actual literal Words and Speech of God which existed since time immemorial. Christians believe the Bible was divinely authored by the Apostles of Jesus, where the Holy Spirit guides the writers of the Bible into writing down the true teachings of Jesus and Christianity. Christians don't believe the Bible's passages are the literal Speech of God which has existed with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as if affirming the Bible was also another Divine Person of the Trinity. No, only Muslims as far as I know affirm both their Holy Book contains the Speech of God which both exists on Earth and also with God up in heaven but that leaves them in a contradiction of whether to affirm the Quran is God Himself on Earth or the true Words of God are still up in heaven. After all, how can the Divine Nature which is uncorrupted and perfect exist in a world not perfect, but actually filled with sin, corruption, and spiritual pollution?
In the end, Muslims face a dilemma with regard to the Quran's Holy and Divine Nature. This a dilemma which after going through all the possible Muslim answers that have been given over the years, still fails to give us a proper satisfying answer.
Conclusion
All the responses and viewpoints of the major Islamic sects fail to answer the question, of whether the Quran is created or not. They tried to square a circle by trying to find a balance between affirming the Quran is the divine Word of God while at the same time not falling into a literalist interpretation where god is on Earth (as the Atharis do). However, all responses so far have failed to properly find the right solution, all either fall into extremities at both ends of the spectrum (Mutazilite and Athari) or tried to strike a balance, but only managed to kick the can down the road even further.
If Christianity has the Problem of the Trinity, a major fundamental question that still has philosophers and theologians scratching their heads trying to find an answer, then the Problem of the Quran's Nature is the Islamic version of it. The difference is while Christians continue to debate and argue about the Trinity's true nature, Muslim and Islamic scholars have relatively abandoned the debate, choosing to hold either one of the three major schools of thought. My personal opinion is this is an unfortunate situation, ever since the decline of philosophy in Islamic thought, Kalam and Falsafah (Islamic philosophy) have gained a bad reputation amongst Muslims as being a "gateway to blasphemy". Rarely you will find Muslim scholars in the modern era debate about this, let alone teach laymen Muslims about these topics.
At the very least, I hope my post can inspire future Muslims to look into this topic further, creating new fascinating answers and arguments that contribute to the Muslim and non-Muslim understanding of what Allah is in Islam.

This has really helped me, I hope it helps you too. Do let me know what you think.
Summary with Examples from "A Self-Help Guide for Copywriters" by Dan Nelken
Main Idea: The book is a comprehensive resource designed to help copywriters enhance their skills in creating compelling headlines and developing creative confidence. It provides practical advice and techniques for improving the writing process, generating ideas, and crafting effective headlines.
Essential Points:

1. Creative Process:
   • Think First, Write Second: Emphasizes the importance of planning and brainstorming before writing.
     • Example: Nelken suggests taking time to map out ideas and concepts before putting pen to paper, ensuring a clear direction and stronger end result.
   • Create and Fill Buckets: Encourages organizing ideas into different categories or "buckets" and consistently adding new ideas to these buckets.
     • Example: Use a "bucket" for potential headline themes, like humor or urgency, and continually add relevant ideas as they come.
   • Rinse and Repeat: Stresses the importance of continually refining and iterating on ideas.
     • Example: Nelken advises revisiting and revising drafts multiple times to polish and enhance the content.
   • Look for Relatable Truths: Suggests finding universal truths that resonate with the audience.
     • Example: A headline like "We all dread Monday mornings" taps into a common experience, making it relatable.
   • Benefit of a Benefit: Focuses on understanding and highlighting the deeper benefits of a product or service.
     • Example: Instead of just saying "Our product saves time," explain the deeper benefit: "More time to spend with family."
   • Asking Unique Questions: Advises asking unconventional questions to spark creativity.
     • Example: "What if our product could talk? What stories would it tell?" helps generate creative, engaging content.

• Bad Ideas as Fertilizer: Views bad ideas as a necessary step towards generating good ones.
  • Example: Nelken notes that even seemingly poor ideas can lead to breakthroughs when re-examined and reworked.

1. Headline Techniques:
   
   • Sack the Competition: Creating headlines that stand out from competitors.
     • Example: Instead of a generic "Best Coffee in Town," use "Why Our Coffee Beats the Rest Every Morning."
   • Embrace Your Dirt: Being honest and transparent to build trust with the audience.
     • Example: "Our coffee isn't for everyone—just those who love bold, rich flavors."
   • Less is More: Using concise language to make headlines impactful.
     • Example: "Fast, Fresh, Delivered" conveys a strong message with minimal words.
   • More is More: Sometimes, being elaborate can be more effective.
     • Example: "Discover the Complex Flavors and Aromas of Our Single-Origin Coffee, Roasted to Perfection."
   • Current Events: Leveraging current events to make headlines relevant and timely.
     • Example: "Start Your Day Right with Our Limited Edition Winter Spice Latte."
   • Twisted Visuals and Straight Lines: Combining creative visuals with straightforward text.
     • Example: A visual of a coffee cup tipping over with the headline, "Don't Let Mondays Spill Over—Get Energized with Us."
   • Manipulate Language: Playing with letters, words, or punctuation for effect.
     • Example: "Get a 'Latte' Love in Every Cup."
   • Product Inspiration: Drawing inspiration directly from the product.
     • Example: "Brewed to Perfection, Just for You."
   • 180-Degree Thinking: Approaching ideas from completely opposite perspectives.
     • Example: Instead of "The Best Coffee," try "Why Bad Coffee is Ruining Your Day—Switch to the Best."
   • Specificity: Being specific to increase the clarity and impact of headlines.
     • Example: "Experience the Rich Flavor of Ethiopian Sidamo Coffee."
   • Saving the Punch for the End: Building up to a strong ending in headlines.
     • Example: "Wake Up to the Best Part of Your Day—Our Coffee."
2. Types of Headlines:
   
   • List and Twist: Combining lists with unexpected elements.
     • Example: "5 Reasons Our Coffee is Better—and 1 Shocking Fact."
   • Smile Headlines: Creating headlines that evoke a positive emotional response.
     • Example: "Start Your Day with a Smile and a Perfect Cup of Coffee."
   • Misdirect: Using misdirection to surprise and engage the reader.
     • Example: "This Isn't Just Coffee—It's an Experience."
   • Cliffhanger: Crafting headlines that leave the reader wanting more.
     • Example: "Discover the Secret Ingredient in Our Best-Selling Blend..."
   • Twisting Popular Phrases: Modifying well-known phrases or quotes.
     • Example: "Wake Up and Smell the Coffee—Literally."
   • Personification: Giving human traits to inanimate objects in headlines.
     • Example: "Our Coffee Misses You—Come Back Soon!"
   • No-Headline Headline: Creating impactful content without a traditional headline.
     • Example: A visual of a steaming cup of coffee with minimal text.
   • Exaggerate the Benefit: Amplifying the benefits to make them more appealing.
     • Example: "One Sip of Our Coffee Will Change Your Morning Routine Forever."

Author’s Intent and Tone:

Dan Nelken aims to empower copywriters by providing them with actionable strategies and techniques to improve their craft. His tone is supportive and encouraging, seeking to instill confidence and creativity in his readers.
I've attached the pdf too in case you want to access the entire book
https://breadl.org/d/419333

------------------
The Book of Harris-y
(Religion as it should be) -
by Zachary Harris
(cc) (NC) (ND) by Zachary Harris
May be copied, distributed, or displayed, verbatim only. non-commercial, not derivative works nor remixes.
First edition May 2024
Chapter 1 - What's in a name
Chapter 2 - A bunch of rules
Chapter 3 - Secrete origins
Chapter 4 - The end
Chapter 5 - Everybody's favorite topic: SEX
Chapter 6 - The 2000 year war
Chapter 7 - Humans and gods
Chapter 8 - Parables
Chapter 9 - Feedback
Chapter
CHAPTER 1
What's in a name
Some religions are named after it's main prophet. Christianity is named after christ. Buddhism is named after Budda.
I, Zach Harris, dub this religion HARRISy.
Where is it written that a religion can't have a sense of humor?
HARRISy is not a spoof or sarcasm.
But any religion without a sense of humor, absolutely NEEDS to be ridiculed.
I was raised in christianity. So most of my criticism will be aimed at the Abrahamic religions.
I intend to build harrisy on logic and reason. Not the superstition, lies, and, threats that the Abrahamic religions are built on.
As an alternative for conscientious objectors caught in the religious wars (see chapter 6).
Deities are not really necessary for inspiration or religion. An all-powerful creator wouldn't need the help or adulation of puny mortals.
Only cults and human puppet masters need that. So we leave deities to their own devises. They ought to be up to it.
Harrisy is a religion about/for humans, as religions should be.
My leadership skills suck. So I will avoid leading, to avoid becoming a cult.
Chapter 2
A bunch of rules
Everybody hates rules. But let's establish what Harrisy stands for.
10 rules is a nice round number. But when the first four are about loyalty to the cult, You have to question who the rules are meant to benefit.
The christian 'commandments' only benefit the christian cult. The commandments don't even benefit their god.
A true all-powerful, immortal, creator god, would not need human worship or loyalty. The same as humans don't need the worship of ants.
We don't make rules for ants to follow. Just stay out of our way. The Abrahamic god treats us like ants. Either ignores or steps on us. It was his cults that made the 'commandments', not their god.
(more about that in chapter 7)
Harrisy has rules to live by, to benefit HUMANS:
A) Cause no harm.
B) Treat others the way you want to be treated.
Christianity calls this 'The Golden Rule' as if they invented it. But this was part of every culture and religion that humans ever created. (except Is-lame)
C) Do not kill. Do not kill humans.
Self preservation may override this, but killing is still a bad idea.
When killing animals for food, respect their sacrifice. Killing for sport is a bad idea.
D) People are not property.
Do not try to own others, in any sense.
You belong to yourself, do not give yourself away.
E) Do not steal.
You would not want to loose your stuff. (see B) Stealing harms others.
F) Do not lie. Avoid those who lie.
You would want to know the truth. To make better decisions. (see B)
G) Do not rape.
Do not force yourself on others. Your pleasures are not more important than other people's.
This applies to more than just sex. Do not force your religion on others. Do not force harrisy on others.
H) Do not shit wherever you please.
You don't want to slog through other people's shit.
(it's a metaphor.) Leave the world better than you found it.
I) Guard your privacy. Respect the privacy of others.
Beware of others who might use info against you. Or might unduly profit off you.
We have no rules about loyalty. We understand loyalties change. Just be honest (rule E)
We have no rule specifically about Adultery. Adultery might be considered loyalty, which changes.
Or adultery might be considered stealing, stealing affection. (rule D)
Chapter 3
Secrete origins
No one knows how/why it all began. Anyone who says they know, for certain, is lying.
The answer night as well be 42.
Most religions make it a crime to ask questions about their creation myths. This promotes ignorance. Helps the cult, not the people.
We understand the 'scientific method'. Scientists ask questions and are willing to test and adapt to new info.
So, for now, we trust scientific conclusions about the beginnings.
The current best theories from science:
The universe started from what they humorously call 'The Big Bang', about 13.8 Billion years ago.
Many are curious about what came before that. But we find that to be irrelevant to our everyday life.
Some religions say their god did it so they can claim payment/gratitude/worship for it. But we owe them nothing.
The earth was formed about 4.5 Billion years ago.
Humans evolved from other critters over many, many, many Generations (not years).
Some religions claim their god did it so they can claim payment/gratitude/worship for it.
We do not owe Harrisy or any religion for our existence.
Chapter 4
The end
How does it all end?
No one knows. Anyone who says they know, for certain, is lying.
Christinity predicts a bad acid trip. (See Revaluations) Any day now. So buy your ticket to heaven early.
It's an obvious con, You sacrifice this life you already have, for the promise of another life they can't prove.
Science predicts 'Entropy'. Every atom in the universe will drift away from every other till they can't react any more.
But humans will be dead or evolved into something we can't recognize, by then. Too distant, time-wise, to worry about.
Your personal end? What happens when you die?
Most probably nothing.
Seems like every religion has a different 'afterlife'. They can't all be right. (but they can all be wrong)
You can't pick the one you want. If an 'afterlife' exists it is what it is. WE can't control it. No cult can control it.
The cults are telling you what you want to hear. So you give your CURRENT LIFE to their cult. The life that is certain, in exchange for an empty promise.
No guarantees, No refunds, You won't get your old life back if they are wrong (or lying).
Pascal's gamble is a sucker bet. It never pays out.
Harrisy aims to make This Current Life better, worth living for it's own sake. We give priority to This Current Life over any theoretical 'afterlife'.
Chapter 5
Everybody's favorite topic: SEX
What's the point of Sexual Taboos?
Why would an IMORTAL (non-sexual, non-reproducing) being give a damn?
For example in the christian cult:
*Masturbation is sin,
*Spilling your seed outside the womb is sin,
*Marrying outside the church is sin,
*Divorce is sin,
*Birth Control is sin,
*Abortion is sin,
*Marriages without offspring are invalid.
*Brand (circumcise) your males, so your females know who they are allowed to mate with,
And in Is-lame, Women are just sexual slaves.
Taken as a whole,
The only purpose served by sexual taboos, is to help the CULT out-populate rival cults.
A REAL "creator god" wouldn't give a damn. Or Wouldn't need our cooperation. it would just create more of us, as needed.
A REAL creator wouldn't threaten us, it would just change us.
Sexual Taboos are serving a cult, not a god.
Harrisy has only one sexual taboo:
Rule G) Do not rape.
Do not force yourself on others. Your pleasures are not more important than other people's.
Chapter 6
The 2000 year war
The Abrahamic religions have been at war with each other for about 2000 years. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.
But like some other religions, at all times attempting to be 'the one true religion'. And by their competition, doing more harm than good.
And the Abrahamic religions haven't even shown that the 'good' stuff needs their religion to get done.
They preach that it is somehow noble or their duty to spread their faith. ("Onward Christian Soldiers")
There are dangers associated with proselytism and/or evangelicalism:
(Please note - I had help with the following)
Focus on Conversion over Service:
Proselytism/evangelicalism prioritizes conversion goals over humanitarian or service-oriented activities.
This undermines the credibility and effectiveness of religious organizations engaged in charitable work,
as it is perceived as conditional or insincere.
Dogmatism and Exclusivity:
Evangelicalism/proselytism promotes a rigid, dogmatic interpretation of religious beliefs that excludes other perspectives.
This exclusivity leads to intolerance of differing viewpoints and hinders constructive dialogue and cooperation with people of other faiths or worldviews.
Coercion and Manipulation:
Proselytism/evangelicalism involves coercion, manipulation, or exploitation of vulnerable individuals,
such as offering material incentives or exploiting power differentials to induce conversion.
This raises ethical concerns about respect for autonomy and informed consent.
Political Activism:
Evangelicalism/proselytism has been associated with political movements that prioritize specific social or moral issues, leading to controversy and polarization.
this politicization blurs the lines between religion and politics, compromising the integrity of both.
Interfaith Tensions:
Proselytism/evangelicalism contributes to interfaith tensions and conflicts, especially when it is aggressive or disrespectful to members of other religious communities.
It will undermine efforts to foster mutual respect, understanding, and cooperation among different faith traditions.
Fragmentation of Communities:
Proselytism/evangelicalism leads to the fragmentation or division of communities, particularly in contexts where multiple religious groups coexist.
This creates social tensions and weaken social cohesion, especially when proselytism is conducted in a confrontational or divisive manner.
Proselytization and Missionary Work:
We are concerned about aggressive or coercive methods used in proselytization/evangelicalism efforts,
especially when targeting vulnerable populations or in multicultural contexts.
This leads to cultural imperialism or disrespect for the autonomy of individuals and communities.
Cultural Insensitivity:
Proselytism/evangelicalism disregards or disrespects the cultural and religious traditions of the target community.
This leads to cultural imperialism or colonialism, especially when proselytism/evangelicalism is conducted in contexts where there is a history of exploitation or marginalization.
Misrepresentation or Simplification of Beliefs:
Proselytism/evangelicalism involves oversimplification or misrepresentation of religious beliefs and practices in order to make them more appealing to potential converts.
This leads to misunderstandings or misconceptions about the beliefs and traditions of the proselytizing religion.
For these reasons we conscientious objectors to the religious war, need an uncompetitive religion like Harris-y.
But don't push it.
Chapter 7
Humans and gods
Why do human religions have gods that are all too human?
A creator of everything that needs humans to wright/publish a holy book?
An all powerful god who needs humans to promote him?
An all powerful god with a vindictive human sized ego?
An immortal who is obsessed with human reproduction?
An all powerful god who needs humans more than we need him?
Any actual god wouldn't need human religion.
Harrisy serves humans, not gods.
Chapter 8
Parables
Corn In A Cow Patty.
Finding truth in the Abrahamic holy books,
is like finding corn in a cow patty.
Sure there are some good kernels in there,
but is it really worth digging through the shit to find them?
You can find uncontaminated kernels of truth anywhere.
Chapter 9
Feedback
Feedback should be sent to: [zachharris@mail2hell.com](mailto:zachharris@mail2hell.com)
Don't expect a timely reply.

Every guy I’ve dated who wanted kids has not been ok with the idea of surrogacy or even “lab babies” (growing the baby with both parents genetic material in a lab instead of inside of a woman)
For example I was having a discussion about all of the dangerous effects that can occur during/after pregnancy and he seemed to have some empathy and say “poor you” in a non-sarcastic manner.
Then I just innocently brought up lab babies and how they were already able to grow pigs this way, and he said “I don’t want a baby like that”..
I was like easy for you to say, you don’t have to birth it. Then he had no response.
Other men I’ve spoken to have outlined they don’t like the fact it’s “not natural”, which is nonsensical, as plenty of natural things are horrible..
It just honestly seems it’s tied to their ego, and like they will feel like less of a man if they don’t “knock a woman up” and seriously affect her quality of life to have their babies. It’s almost as if they are thinking they haven’t proven themselves because a woman doesn’t love or like them enough to destroy her body to have his offspring. They also can’t control us in the same way once women are able to reproduce with the same amount of effort as men.
Idk the guys I’ve dated just seem so out of touch or selfish or something. It honestly seems like they don’t care one bit about any form of compromise in this department. Sad part is they’ll easily find someone who is willing to put their life and long term health at risk to have children. Guess I just have to have children alone, though I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever met who I’d want to be my sperm donor.

I am a millennial who graduated high school in 2011. I grew up watching a lot of anime, just like most people I knew. During my time in school it was very normal to know what anime was and even watch many animes casually.
When I was in school Toonami was big and they showed a few animes mixed in with other cartoons. I feel like because of that, kids pretty much just accepted anime just like they had accepted cartoons. Even outside of Toonami, I know it was very common to find websites where we could watch even more anime.
Everyone, including myself, would have pictures of their favorite characters plastered on their binders. Some kids were revered for being able to copy their favorite manga drawings, and we’d wear clothes showcasing our favorite shows at the moment. It was such a normal part of life.
Before I was even looking for my own shows to get into, my uncle (born in the 70s), was showing me his fav anime when I was little. Because of that, and everyone at school knowing what it was, I never questioned it or thought much of it.
Nowadays I noticed that younger folks are so angry about anime and find it unfathomable that anyone else besides themselves actually watches anime. They doubt each other and quiz everyone. I don’t get it. Then I hear so many stories of people being “bullied” for liking anime and I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a very diverse environment, but that has never happened around me nor has it happened to anyone I know. Has anime become some obscure form of entertainment or something? Why are people like this nowadays? In my head, it’s like asking if someone uses Netflix and then quizzing them on how many shows they know.
I was stopped at a bar a few days ago by a young man (I’m in my 30s) for wearing an anime shirt and he questioned if I even knew the show or if I just liked the shirt. This was a show that had been out since I was like in 5th grade. My cousin and I had gotten into a physical fight when we were in middle school because we realized we both liked the same character. To be asked this question by a barely 21 year old stranger when I had watched this show before they were conscious was strange.
I never thought I’d be a victim of “Do you even know that band? Name three of their songs” but the anime version. Anyways, why are people like this now?

Please be gentle, it's been bouncing around in my brain forever.
"Good morning class. as we continue our lecture on our war like members of the Federation. This week we will be discussing humans." Hand raises, sigh. "Yes Twicx." "But humans are not warlike they didn't even post scores during last year's fleet wargames." "Well, if you let me continue with my lecture you will find out that answer. Sit down."
"Why is one of the Federations most friendly races at the top of this list of war races? The Grog are 1000 kg and can lift some races tanks. The Sevetm are so nibble that they are unrivaled at close quarters battle and fighter craft."
"Humans evolved on a hell planet with the highest biodiversity of any planet found in this galaxy. And probably any other. More species go extinct on their home planet Earth a day then some cradle worlds have ever had. They have become the super apex predator of this planet where every biome has animals that will hunt and eat humans. At one point there were 5 different species of humans competing to survive. Put your hand down Twicx. To this day the planet is home to no less then 13 pre-sapient species."
"This crucible of evolution has created a super predator that most of the galaxy often finds cute and cuddly. They have evolved 3 traits in my humble opinion that set them above other species in the theater of combat. Yes, Twicx I see your hand put it down or I will remove you from class. These traits are as follows and will be on the test."
"1) Pack bonding: Humans will bond with almost anything, some cases even inanimate objects and will swarm like hive drones if a bond partner or child is harmed. Not just their own children either. whole villages would endanger themselves to find one lost child that was not even from their village."
"2) Combat Drugs: When a human is stressed just like many other species from Earth, they release a combination of hormones that most super soldier programs would be scared to even administer. In fact, most of these chemicals are illegal and considered war crimes to administer to troops. Adrenaline, Cortisol, and several Catecholamines are released from a gland attached to a part of their digestive system. This reduces pain, increases the bodies available strength, increases nerve response, increases blood flow, and adds more energy molecules into their blood stream, I think it is called Glucose, a form of drink sweetener. Look up their properties tonight as your homework then discuss on the class forum. I expect 3 posts of no less than 300 words this week. Where was I? Oh yes."
"3) Tenacity: A purely human concept. Humans are what is called a pursuit or persistence predator, they are slower and weaker than even most of the pray species on Earth but what they could do was run their pray to exhaustion and death. Human elderly are known to be able to run 42 kilometers without stopping to rest with minimal training. This ability has created a psyche that does not stop due to adversity. Thier history is full of examples of soldiers that fought to the death and at time won when surrounded just because they refused to bow to their enemy or to give others a chance to escape. This tenacity influences every part of their lives. From technological research: Don't tell me it can't be done. To their combativeness with authority: I will not wear green on Friday, I don't want to, and you can't make me. A human Marine I once met summed it up as: Because fuck you make me!""
This evolution has created a species that thrives in adversity. In fact, most humans do not like living on gaia class worlds because they find them too boring. In fact, studies have shown that humans without some competition or conflict in their lives show increased mental instability and have a severely decreased life span. This is why they scare just about every other military in the Federation. Thank you class and have a good day."
"Oh, Twicx, to answer your question you should really lookup who the red force during the fleet games is. It's their reserve fleet, their part time volunteers. And you know that Red Force usually wins, even in very disadvantageous scenarios. Now get out."

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

I found an interesting geopolitical study on a comparatively unknown Pentagon agency's(Executive Services Directorate's) website where it discusses four scenarios for the future of Europe's Muslim population and reading through it, despite it being published in 2008, I found it has been quite prescient in many ways as it accurately predicted many trends regarding terrorism and the responses to it. It discusses the challenges and the possible impossibility of true integration in the sense Europeans are accustomed to, and the geopolitical realities of the above on Europe and US-European relations. If you have the time you should read through the full study and its conclusions, but here are the summaries of each and their likelihood of occurring, starting from least likely to most likely.
Synthesis: Euro-Islam and a New Europe (Least Likely).
In an extension of the EU project to transcend Europe' s internal historical divisions, European societies manage to create a workable new civilization and political culture rooted in cosmopolitan precepts rather than in national or historical legacies. To qualify as a European one need only embrace a new civic creed. The Muslim populations of Europe develop a distinctive variant of their religion, relegating Islam to a personal or private moral code while adopting European languages, modes of dress, career ambitions, lifestyle choices, etc. A core body of secular beliefs and structures comes to characterize the Muslim populations as much as it does pre-existing European populations. This outcome is promoted by inherent tendencies on the part both of migrant and host communities to integrate the Muslim immigrant populations of Europe into the pre-existing social milieu. Designed programs of the State also act to promote integration and assimilation.
Eurabia: A Muslim-dominated Europe (Second Least Likely)
With its population aging and declining, Europe has little choice but to permit increased immigration from North Africa, the Middle East, and elsewhere in the Muslim world. Emboldened by their youthfulness, growing numbers, and a vibrant religious-cultural identity, Europe's Muslim immigrants increasingly assert themselves in European politics. The present disparities in birth rate grow even sharper. Exhausted, insecure, disoriented, and intimidated, European host societies never regain the cohesiveness of identity and purpose to assert themselves against an energetic, rising social order. Ultimately, the Muslim populations ofEurope overwhelm the host societies, until Europe becomes a socio-religious extension of the Ncar East and North Africa, possibly with residual enclaves of the pre-Islamic European population left from place to place. Pressure from within and from without compels the European states to distance themselves from cooperation with the United States, particularly in the Middle East.
Fortress Europe (Second Most Likely)
Unsettled by its inability to integrate its Muslim populations and impatient with the Muslims' refusal to assimilate, Europe dispenses with its relatively recent experience with liberalism. Global economic downturn and acts of jihadist terror provoke Europeans to embrace a highly xenophobic style of politics. European politics comes to be dominated by anti-Muslim ideologues, who adopt a program of organized hostility to Muslims and to already-established Muslim populations in Europe. The practical manifestations of the new reaction in Europe vary between some combination of isolation and draconian police controls at the least extreme end of a spectrum; to mass expulsion at the most extreme. Factors leading to this outcome include growth in alarm at the socio-economic problems associated with the Muslim populations; a break down of the ideology of multiculturalism and political taboos; and incidents of terrorism as mobilizing shock events.
The Green Ghetto (Most Likely).
The present-day (c. 2007) status quo continues-but, through the passage of time, it crystallizes-i.e., becomes more rigid and less likely to undergo transition to other forms. Muslim populations are restricted- at first by choice, later perhaps by formal legal provisions to more or less dearly defined geographic precincts, chiefly in large European cities. Elites within these populations may achieve a nominal degree of integration, through language acquisition and economic engagement with the host society. The main body of each Muslim population however remains self-contained, and advances little beyond a low-level economic niche. State integration programs stall, achieving, at best, the occasional convert to European social norms-but integration remains an exceptional phenomenon, restricted to individual cases. Globalization in the form of satellite television and air transportation makes it easier for immigrant populations to retain ties to their societies of origin and maintain distinct identities. Meanwhile globalization in the form of increased market competition undermines the European welfare state. Maintaining a homogenous society is no longer easy or even desirable. In essence, European society reverts to a pre-nation-state pattern wherein economic classes are socially distinct and ethnic-cultural groups fill specific economic niches
Foreign Policy Conclusions Related to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict:
Synthesis: The study's authors did not delve into the effects this might have on foreign policy so this is the one I would like to hear most from the people on. Personally I think we would see a more pro-Arab, but not necessarily rabidly anti-Israel, response in Europe if secularism and humanitarianism/a reformed private Islam win out over political Islam and the Muslim population integrates in this optimistic scenario. You would likely see a harder push for a two-state solution and an end to the conflict with Europe putting leashes on both the Palistineans and Israelis becoming tired of it, condemning Palistinean terrorism while also condemning Israeli countermeasures.
Eurabia: This would be the absolute worst scenario for Israel and the absolute best scenario for the Palestinians as it would turn Europe into an extension of MENA. The study does not go into detail on this but Israel would be entirely surrounded by actively Islamist countries by air, land, and sea, and the US would be forced to decide whether backing Israel is worth it if it turns the entire continent of Europe and MENA against it. Israel's existence as a state may actually be threatened even with nuclear weapons or it may even be forced to turn into an effective autarky North-Korean tier state if embargos are put on it and it is cut off from all of its trading partners. It may be able to survive but only with heavy concessions to the Palestinians and the potential loss of Jerusalem and/or exploiting inter-Muslim tensions.
Fortress Europe: This did not touch on Israel-Palestine directly but it does present an interesting US-EU dynamic depending on how bad the situation goes ranging from anywhere between the US supporting the crackdown or expulsion of Muslims to being vehemently against it or somewhere in between, meaning Israel could see a huge rift and tension between its two allies or them coming closer together to crack down on Islam. The former would be problematic for Israel due to a lack of coordination or even hostility between the two, but the latter could be extremely beneficial to Israel as both Europe and America would not be fans of Muslims and Israel would become a key staunch ally for both with strong support from both and Israeli maximalist positions would likely find favor, this is probably the wet dream of people like Bibi, Smotrich, and Givr barring the conversion of all of Europe and America to Judaism.
The Green Ghetto: The study touches on the IP conflict here saying that Europe would either become too distracted and divided by internal issues to really influence the conflict or it becomes more pro-Arab in the sense it does not want to set off constant ethnic conflict within its own borders by backing Israel or at least moving towards a more neutral position. One could extrapolate from this that it could also become bipolar each election cycle depending on which parties are in power, the more anti-Islam conservative ones backing Israel not so much because they care about Jewish sovereignty but more because it angers the Muslims which pleases their political base. The more progressive parties will turn more pro-Arab in an attempt to placate the Muslim population and deepen economic ties with MENA. You could also see a huge Western/Eastern Europe divide on this. Israel's position here would wax and wane with the political tide and it would require Israeli politicians to be skilled to navigate this.
Anyway, those are the summaries and my thoughts, what are yours?

Introduction
Muslims believe the Quran, the holy book of Islam itself is not just a religious book for guidance but also the literal word of god i.e. Allah itself. In everyday conversations, you will hear Muslims call it Kalamullah (Word of God), not in the Christian sense where the Word is Jesus and God but actual sayings, sentences, and words uttered by god himself and compiled into a single book by human hands. While Muslims are proud of their holy book being the literal words of god sent down to all of mankind, there are a few problems with that mainly concerning Islam's doctrinal theology and its core beliefs.
Disclaimer and Notes
Now, before I start, a disclaimer. The issue of the Quran being god's word or not has been one of the most pretentious and divided issues in the Muslim community. Because of this issue, multiple sects (considered deviant and heretical today) popped up in the early years of Islam's history leading to multiple debates, condemnations, and even inquisitions for those that were against the majority-held view in history. So to make it easy considering Islam has tons of historical sects, all of whom held widely different views than modern-day Islam when it comes to the Quran's states as the word of god (or not), this post is aimed at Ashari, Maturidi and Ahlul Hadith/Athari aqeedah sects who make up the majority of Muslims today, collectively considered to be under the umbrella of Ahlul Sunnah Wal Jema'ah (Literally meaning "The People of the Prophet's Tradition and Consensus" or to make it easier to understand "The Followers of the Prophet's Teachings and the Righteous Community"). This term is commonly understood in Islam as those who follow the true and righteous path in Islam which according to the hadiths, out of 73 deviant sects, only 1 (the above I already mention) will be on the correct spiritual path.
Why do I say this problem is akin to the Trinity problem in Christianity? Both are key problems that form the basis of the entire religion, not just for an individual believer but also for the scholars who dabble in religious sciences. Both the Quran and Trinity make up the core fundamental teachings upon which other teachings are established and expanded further. Without these key concepts, the entire premise of both religions (Islam and Christianity) would fall apart within a matter of seconds. Both issues are also hotly debated even to this day. As I mentioned before, the issue of the Quran's creation or non-creation was an important issue that occupied the minds of early-century Muslim scholars and thinkers, to the point schisms and breakaways from the main branch started to emerge. The same thing happened in Christianity with the Trinity which led to excommunication, the Arian controversy, and multiple individual distinct sects, all of whom have a different understanding of what the Trinity is.
Last, I would also like to mention that considering the Trinity has been severely criticized by non-Christians alike as proof of Christianity's falsehood and internal contradictions, then the same should be said with Islam's problem of the Quran's status. However, unlike in Islam, Christianity continued to debate up to the present day and even adopted Greek philosophical concepts to better explain away the Trinity and the relationship between each Divine Person of the Trinity. In Islam, the opposite occurred. Those who used Greek philosophy and rhetoric were condemned as either falling into falsehood or corrupting the religion by introducing pagan concepts. Ironically, the most condemned bunch of the Muslim sects I'll talk about below, the Mutazilites were the ones who most used philosophy which led to their rejection of the Quran's non-createdness.
Due to the decline of the Mutazilite sect, the rise of more conservative movements, and the criticism of Aristotelian philosophical ideas by Al-Ghazali (Note, he wasn't against philosophy, he was against philosophical ideas that went against Islam like the eternity of the world and denying bodily resurrection in the afterlife), theological discussions and debates surrounding the question faded away. Even now, most Muslims consider the issue "solved" and simply adopt one of the three main positions. Unsurprisingly, while the West and Christianity continued adopting new ideas, this means the Muslim positions lacked much substance and arguments seen in Christianity with Greek and Neo-Platonist ideas which in turn, means there are tons of problems with their positions, (which is the whole point of the post)
Now, with that out of the way, let's begin.
How Have Muslims Historically Responded to this Problem?
There are two answers to the question of the Quran's status. One, to affirm that it is the literal word of god from Allah Himself which existed with him since eternity or to affirm it is a created being just like every other creature and human planet earth. The second view doesn't mean that the Quran is simply the work of man, quite the opposite. Rather, it posits that the Quran still holds religious significance as Islam's holy book and is still the Word of God but it was created at a later time by God, not existing eternally with god before the creation of everything. In the second view, the Quran still holds religious significance for praying, guidance, and the basis for Islam, only that it is of a lower status than god himself, being a creation of god that was created at a certain time.
The second view is considered invalid and rejected by all major sects of Islam in the modern era (Ashari, Maturidi, Athari) as a heretical belief that the Mutazilites (The Withdrawers) held. I'm not going to go into who they are, what is their history, or what are their beliefs (you can google it yourself). Just know these are the guys who believe the Quran was a creation of god and were condemned by pretty much every Islamic group and sect from their beginning all the way up to the present modern day. This is one of the only issues where every Islamic sect agrees with each other in condemning this belief, be it Ashari, Maturidi, or Athari. Thus, the second option then is 100% of the table for most Muslims, unless they want to affirm holding beliefs of a heretical group that died out 1000 years ago. I don't think any Muslim will dare to affirm Mutazilite beliefs for fear of ridicule and committing major sins, so there's not much here to discuss. For the sake of brevity, I will address the second view since the one even Muslims will deny and reject. After that, I'll address the Second View
The Second View
But for the sake of argument, I'll assume some rare brave Mutazilite Muslim wants to give it a try. Now, here are some of my questions for you. If the Quran is a creation of god and not the literal Word of God before time immemorial, what is the Quran's relationship with god? You believe these are still words from Allah that help mankind to arrive at the truth and Islam yet at the same you also believe that these were created at a time later than god. How can something that is both speech from god and also created by god himself exist simultaneously at the same time? Anything that is created at a later time means it's a creation, a contingent object that depends on an external creator. It can't be part of god because god is eternal, atemporal, necessary, and independent of everything and anything. If it were god or contained some part of god inside of it, then this is no different than Jesus and the Son of God in Christianity where it contains both a human and godly nature, so does that mean you now believe the Quran to be both god and creation? Just like the Christians who you condemn as a false corrupted religion? This is the First Problem you must face, that be affirming it is both from god and not god, you are throwing yourself into the same pit as Christianity with a dual nature which is already a false religion. I like to call people who affirm this stance "Dualists".
The Second Problem "dualists" face is that this nullifies the Quran's honorific status in Islam, which goes against what the majority of the Muslim world believes in. For Dualists, what is the Quran's honorific and spiritual status in Islam now? We've all seen Muslim riots and protests against the burning or stepping on the Quran by non-Muslims around the world. A man burns or rips up the Quran and the entire Muslim world goes into a frenzy. In Islam, simply placing the Quran on the floor is considered disrespectful and sinful. In the majority of sects today, the Quran must be honored and respected 24/7 partly due to the fact Muslims believe it to be the literal Word. But for Dualists, what is your stance and reason for continuing to respect the Quran? Considering you no longer believe the Quran to be the actual Word, can non-Muslims now vandalize, rip apart, step on, or place the Quran on the floor?? Would you have any problem with it? It's no longer the Word itself but a creation of god. Sure, you might ask others to "respect other religions and beliefs" but aside from this, what else do you have?? Is simply putting a religious book on the floor disrespecting other religions? What makes your holy book now any different from the Jewish and Christian perspectives on their religious books? They don't go into a frenzy every time Bibles are burned or disrespected. Will you do the same thing?
The Third Problem since it's a created thing, wouldn't this also mean that at some point in the future, the Quran no longer exists? That the Quran is finite and will at some point cease to exist? Wouldn't this mean at some point, Islam itself becomes useless because the number one source for everything, the Quran no longer exists? The Quran will cease to exist if it were created, when it happens, will the meaning of the verses and Muslim understanding built up over the centuries also cease to exist? Tafsirs, Fiqh, and Tajwid all suddenly become useless and void of any meaning because the backbone of Islam, the Quran no longer exists. What about the Muslim understanding of what Allah is? Isn't that detrimental should the Quran cease to exist? The best outcome is that Muslims still retain the knowledge but Islam becomes spineless without a religious book and the worst outcome is the complete disintegration of Islam as everything built upon the Quran, now becomes useless. It would mean the complete death of Islam as a major Abrahamic religion.
Next, what about during the Hour, when everything in the heavens and on the Earth will be destroyed and no longer exist? Muslims believe that when the Hour arrives, everything will be destroyed. Every human, child, animal, plant, planet, universe, devil, and angel will die inevitably. Only god remains. Due to this, according to Dualists, will the Quran experience the same fate? All of its verses and Surahs destroyed by god himself. Now I know Muslims, even those of other sects believe the Quran will disappear bit by bit before the Hour as a sign of the impending doom and apocalypse. However, other Muslims believe that yes, the Quran will disappear but the verses themselves remain preserved with god i.e. Allah since these are the literal words of god himself. In a sense, the verses suddenly don't exist, they return back to god.
TLDR, the Dualist Mutazilite view implies a contradiction where the Quran is both God and not God at the same time, it nullifies the Quran's holy status and the divine meaning of the verses, and last, it means the Quran is finite and will cease to exist at some point in the future.
Now, onto the Ashari, Maturidi and Athari sects,
The First View (The Majority)
These three are the most prominent and widely held doctrinal sects in the current Muslim population. I will be splitting the next sections into two sections, Ashari-Maturidi (since both are quite similar and considered a single unified school of thought by Muslim scholars) and the Athari school.
Ashari-Maturidi
The Asharis and Maturidis believe the Quran and its verses to be the literal Word of God itself, with Allah since eternity before time however they believe the book form of the Quran (mushaf), the one which every Muslim holds and reads is of man-made origin. In other words, the verses, sentences, letters, and meaning of the text are from god himself while the cover, paper, ink, writing, and publishing are from mankind. The Ash'ari creed makes a point of difference between the content of the Quran and the physical manifestation of it (in speech or as pages in a book).
The Main Problem with this argument as said by Atharis and Mutazilites is that this strips the Quran of its spiritual and holy essence in Islam. If the real divine aspect of the Quran that came from god itself are the verses and meaning of it only, then should we burn every last Quran in the world, it wouldn't be a problem. After all, the divine part still exists as it is from and with god himself, only the earthly worldly portions of it get destroyed. Why's that a problem? I mean what is the problem spiritually concerning Islam's doctrinal theology itself? What's the problem with destroying the cover or vandalizing the writing of it? It's not from god, it's man-made. The effect of this would be enormous.
This means now non-Muslims and Islamaphobes can now burn, rip, tear apart, step on, vandalize, and desecrate the Quran because they are only destroying the part that is not divine. Would Asharis or Maturidis agree to this? Is now destroying the Quran not a major sin but actually allowed? The true essence of the Quran i.e. the part that is truly divine remains preserved and exists since humans were created and will continue to exist long after everything has died and withered away. The vandalization and desecration of it does not affect the Quran because the true divine verses and meaning remain preserved. This problem is similar to the Second Problem with the Mutazilite belief, it nullifies and strips away the Quran's holy status and honorific place among the Muslim community. If it isn't truly god's divine word, what's the problem if it gets destroyed, wet, or burned?
Heck, I've heard this same argument from other sects, claiming and accusing the Ashari are just Mutazilites in disguise because their main stance of the Quran's identity revolves back to the Mutazilite position where the Quran is a creation of god. One of the main accusations against the Ashari sect is that it's just a rehash version of Mutazilite or Jahmiyyah theology (I don't have time to explain what this is right now, better if you look it up yourselves) due to similarities in doctrine and also because Imam Ashari, the founder was once a Mutazilite himself (not helping the Ashari case) but Asharis claim he renounced all Mutazilite theology and returned back to the true correct path. In this case, should the objection above against the Ashari-Maturidi position succeed, then it would help critics a lot against Asharism.
The Second Problem with holding the Ashari position is that this resembles the idolatry of Hinduism and Paganism or at least, is slipping into idolatry practice. If they claim the Speech of God is contained within the letters, pages, and ink of the Mushaf (the Quran's Uthmanic standardized codex), then how dare they believe the actions of humans can absorb and physicalize the Sacred Divine Speech of God, for Muslims believe god can never be limited by His creatures. This would also mean they believe the ink written on the Quran's pages is a physical intermediary, designed to encapsulate the Speech of God into a physical form, no different than the idols of Hindus and Pagans who believe their idols to be an intermediary or a worldly representation of the True Divine Nature.
Hindus don't claim they worship idols, rather they believe them to be ways to spiritually connect with the divine as a locus for prayer just like how Muslims consider the Kaaba as the direction for prayer, not an idol for worship or as a reminder for believers of the faith similar to how a photo of a spiritual leader is a sign of respect and a daily reminder every-day when you wake up. How is this different than believing the ink inside the Quran holds the truth or emulates the Divine Nature from the Ashari claim? Ashari Muslims affirm the Quran is still the Word of God just represented through a physical form, so how is this not idolatry? Believing that a physical human-made physical manifestation holds the Divine Speech so that followers of Islam can get closer to god?
This would be even worse than the Mutazilites, for committing idolatry whether intentionally or not is a major grave sin in Islam, to the point those that who commit it and do not repent back are considered as Kafir (infidels). If even they aren't committing idolatry and shirk (polytheism), another major sin in Islam, then at the very least, they believe that a divine part of God can be captured inside the ink and pen of writers as if they the Speech of God and the ink become one and the same, another reference to the Christian belief of God having both a Divine and Human Nature. Of course, Muslims and Ashari Muslims consider this to be heretical and blasphemous, but what's the difference between believing the Quran is both man-made and divine versus the Christological belief of Jesus being both God and Man?
The Third Problem with the Ashari answer that the Quran itself is created while the Speech of God isn't is where is the Speech of God then? Asharis can't answer that it is still in heaven for they also believe the Mushaf or Quran contains the Word and Speech of God. If they believe that it is still in heaven with god and not on earth, then what are they even reading every day? Clearly not the Speech of God if they claim it isn't with us now, perhaps an imperfect human copy of the divine Speech of God but that would mean the Quran is imperfect and the work of man, which would be affirming the Mutazilite position. So they can't claim it is both in the heavens and on the earth nor claim it is either in the heavens only or on the earth with mankind only.
I already explained they also can't say the Speech of God is contained inside the ink and letters of the Quran for that means the Divine Speech has become limited because of it. God in Islam can never be limited, nor can His creatures limit god. So if isn't option A, B, or C, where is the Holy Sacred Speech of God then? The Speech which is supposed to be the principle guiding force for all of mankind especially, Muslims. How can Asharis then claim they believe in the Quran as the revelation and Word of God sent down to Muhammad if they can't tell us where in their holy book, is the Speech of God itself? At worst, this means the Ashari belief entails the Quran isn't holy or divine thus eliminating Islam's entire main source and one of the 6 pillars of Iman (faith), and at best, reading the Quran isn't a holy act nor can be used as a book for guidance, for Muslims aren't reading the Word of God then. They are reading an imperfect fallible man-made copy of the Speech of God, not the true Divine Inspiration from Allah.
TLDR, the Ashari-Maturidi middle path that the Quran was uncreated and eternal, yet its ink and paper, individual letters and words were created strips the Quran has multiple problems, some may even go against what Islam stands for. It strips the Quran of its Divine Sacred Essence as the Word of God, at worse it may lead to shirk and idolatry akin to the Hindus and Pagans, and at best, Asharis can't point to us where the Word and Speech of God is in the Quran.
Athari/Ahlul Hadith
Now for the Atharis, they are strict literalists who believe the Quran and Allah's Speech both are uncreated unlike the Asharis/Maturidis who adopt a middle path, or the Mutazilite who outright claim the Quran was created, the extreme position.
The First Problem with the Athari position is pretty clear, if the Quran is the literal Word of God completely, then does that mean what Muslims are holding is a literal piece of God here on earth in the moral realm? Does that mean god is with us all the time? How can god, who Muslims consider as being transcendent be here on earth with mankind? If the Quran is the literal physical Speech of God and not just metaphorically or analogically, then does this mean the Speech of God exists on Earth? How can god be here on Earth? The Atharis believe literally that the Quran is the Speech of God, so unless they claim the Speech of God suddenly transformed into a physical object (which I'll address below), the Quran would be a god or at least have a piece of the divine essence of Allah.
This is no different than the Christian position where there exists a God in heaven and a God on Earth at the same time. As I already mentioned, Muslims consider the Christian position of a god on earth unacceptable yet when we look at their own views, we find (in the Athari case) a piece of god exists on earth. Allah still exists in the heavens, yet the Speech of God exists here in the Quran. Let's not even get into the issue of a transcendent god existing in the mortal physical realm, where the laws of physics govern meaning god would be limited in some capacity (which most Muslims would see as ridiculous)
The Second Problem is the relationship between the Quran (God's Speech) and God himself. Considering the Quran was revealed to Muhammad and sent down by Gabriel, how should we understand the Speech of God is here now? Do Atharis believe that the Speech of God suddenly separated from the main body when the Quran was revealed and sent down to earth? Or do Atharis believe the Quran is still the undivided Speech of God, in which case a part of god is literally on earth?
Or what about when the Quran was compiled in book form starting with Abu Bakr's reign and ending with Uthman's standardization? Should we take this to mean now not only does the Speech of God literally exist on earth but the Speech of God now has taken shape, molded into letters and words while compiled into a book equipped with paper pages and covers from front to back? If they want to deny these are from god i.e. the physical cover is man-made, then they would be subscribing to the Ashari-Maturidi doctrine of the middle path (which I already showed also has problems). If they want to take the other path and claim the Quran we have now is not the Word of God literally, then they would be subscribing to the heretical Mutazilite position which also, has tons of religious and doctrinal problems.
TLDR, the Athari literalist position invites more harm than good when it comes to answering the question of the Quran's uncreated nature. It would mean god is literally on earth, or a piece of god's divine essence is. Affirming that a piece of the Divine Essence exists here on earth with mankind would be something similar to the Christian belief that god exists both in the heavens and on earth (Father and Son). Other than that, it would also complicate the relationship between the Quran and God even more. If the Quran is the literal Word and Speech of God, how do Atharis explain the Quran's standardization into a single written book with ink, paper, and covers? Does it mean the Speech of God underwent a physical transformation?
Consequences
Islam posits the Quran to be the Word of God from Allah Himself, however how exactly does that work leads to massive problems within Islam's doctrinal framework. Muslims can't state the Quran is the true literal Speech of God otherwise they would be committing a blasphemous act by believing god is literally on earth with us at this very moment. They also can't deny it is the Speech of God for Islam considers the Quran to be the perfect Kalamullah (literally the Word of God). It is one of the core tenets of belief that Muslims believe the Quran to be the actual Words of God sent down to Muhammad as the last revelation. They also can't adopt a middle path like the Asharis-Maturidis because I've already shown that this just leaves the Quran inside a grey area, it's both the Word of God and also not the Word of God at the same time. Other problems are also relevant which I've already discussed above. Either the middle approach collapses into itself, becoming either one the extreme views, literal divine affirmation like the Atharis, or the extreme divine nullification like the Mutazilites.
Other religions don't have this problem. They do not believe Jesus or Moses were gifted the actual literal Words and Speech of God which existed since time immemorial. Christians believe the Bible was divinely authored by the Apostles of Jesus, where the Holy Spirit guides the writers of the Bible into writing down the true teachings of Jesus and Christianity. Christians don't believe the Bible's passages are the literal Speech of God which has existed with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as if affirming the Bible was also another Divine Person of the Trinity. No, only Muslims as far as I know affirm both their Holy Book contains the Speech of God which both exists on Earth and also with God up in heaven but that leaves them in a contradiction of whether to affirm the Quran is God Himself on Earth or the true Words of God are still up in heaven. After all, how can the Divine Nature which is uncorrupted and perfect exist in a world not perfect, but actually filled with sin, corruption, and spiritual pollution?
In the end, Muslims face a dilemma with regard to the Quran's Holy and Divine Nature. This a dilemma which after going through all the possible Muslim answers that have been given over the years, still fails to give us a proper satisfying answer.
Conclusion
All the responses and viewpoints of the major Islamic sects fail to answer the question, of whether the Quran is created or not. They tried to square a circle by trying to find a balance between affirming the Quran is the divine Word of God while at the same time not falling into a literalist interpretation where god is on Earth (as the Atharis do). However, all responses so far have failed to properly find the right solution, all either fall into extremities at both ends of the spectrum (Mutazilite and Athari) or tried to strike a balance, but only managed to kick the can down the road even further.
If Christianity has the Problem of the Trinity, a major fundamental question that still has philosophers and theologians scratching their heads trying to find an answer, then the Problem of the Quran's Nature is the Islamic version of it. The difference is while Christians continue to debate and argue about the Trinity's true nature, Muslim and Islamic scholars have relatively abandoned the debate, choosing to hold either one of the three major schools of thought. My personal opinion is this is an unfortunate situation, ever since the decline of philosophy in Islamic thought, Kalam and Falsafah (Islamic philosophy) have gained a bad reputation amongst Muslims as being a "gateway to blasphemy". Rarely you will find Muslim scholars in the modern era debate about this, let alone teach laymen Muslims about these topics.
At the very least, I hope my post can inspire future Muslims to look into this topic further, creating new fascinating answers and arguments that contribute to the Muslim and non-Muslim understanding of what Allah is in Islam.

INTRODUCTION
Diabetes mellitus (DM) is a heterogeneous metabolic disorder characterized by a common feature of increased levels of blood glucose (or blood sugar), which over time may lead to serious damage to the nerves, blood vessels, heart, and various organ systems of the body.
The most characterized feature of diabetes is insulin resistance by the Beta cells of the pancreas.
GESTATIONAL DIABETES

1. One of the types of Diabetes Mellitus is Gestational Diabetes i.e., Diabetes during pregnancy.
   
2. About 4% of pregnant women develop DM due to metabolic changes during pregnancy. Although they revert to normal glycemia (normal blood glucose) after delivery, these women are prone to develop DM later in their lives.
   

OTHER TYPES OF DIABETES MELLITUS

1. Type 1 D. M:

Type 1 diabetes is a condition that results from an abnormal immune response where certain cells called “T-cells” which are a part of the Beta cells of the pancreas are destroyed. Type 1 diabetes is based on the “gene-environment interaction” model i.e., individuals who are susceptible to certain environmental triggers develop resistance to the activity of Beta cells which in turn results in low or no production of insulin. Type 1 diabetes is strongly influenced by genetic predisposition but it does not follow any particular pattern of inheritance.

1. Type 2 D. M:

Type 2 diabetes mellitus is a heterogeneous condition that is characterized by varying degrees of insulin resistance (where insulin rejects synthesis of carbohydrates) and beta-cell dysfunction, Beta cells are those cells that are part of the pancreas that produce insulin. Type 2 diabetes is commonly associated with obesity.
In type 2 diabetes, there are mainly two problems. The pancreas can not produce enough insulin (the hormone that regulates the movement of sugar into the cells). The cells do not respond properly to insulin and synthesize less sugar. Type 2 diabetes used to be known as adult-onset diabetes, but both type 1 and type 2 diabetes can begin during childhood and adulthood. Type 2 is more common in the older generation but due to the increase in the number of children with obesity, more cases of type 2 diabetes are seen in the younger generation.

1. Other specific types:

Only 10% are affected by this type of D. M and this includes Genetic defects, endocrinopathies, etc.
TREATMENT

1. Treatment for Gestational diabetes depends on the signs and symptoms of the individual, the age, and the severity of the condition.
   
2. To maintain blood glucose levels, medication that lowers blood sugar levels may be given in the form of tablets.
   
3. A proper diet has to be followed.
   
4. Exercise as prescribed by the doctor.
   
5. For higher blood sugar levels insulin is required to be administered.
   

SIDE EFFECTS OF INSULIN
Increased insulin leads to increased glucose in a baby’s system which may keep the lungs from growing fully. This can cause breathing problems in babies. This is mostly seen in babies born before 37 weeks of pregnancy.
If insulin is given in higher concentration then it may lead to hypoglycemia (decreased blood sugar level) which may lead to loss of consciousness, coma, severe and irreversible brain injuries, or death.
CONCLUSION
While the right doses of insulin have no ill effects on the human body, higher doses can lead to severe conditions that may even result in death. Therefore all insulin dosages have to be prescribed by a qualified physician.

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
First/Previous
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First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
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In the vast countryside, away from the busy city of Savannah, exist hills as tall as buildings and green as emeralds. There was also an aura of calmness, with a few birds twittering away in dispersed trees, followed by the gentle swaying of the wind.
Then, out of nowhere, came a small, lonely girl wearing a once-lily-white summer dress with a striped long-sleeved t-shirt underneath it. She was also wearing a dark blue and cream-white baseball hat with the letter D on the front of it. She was moving wearily, with a pistol in one hand, and wiping her damp eyes with the other.
She knew what happened to make her weep. According to her, it was her fault that she got him killed; she was convinced by a towering man who said he knew her parents. But that was a brainless, childish lie that got Lee killed. She shouldn’t have run off. At least, Lee taught her how to use a gun and what to expect in the future before his tragic passing. But now she was all on her own.
Eventually, she came to a log, which was next to the rusted shell of a car. Anyway, she proceeded to sit down on it. Throughout all of this, she was as quiet as a mouse, only looking at her feet and wiping her blood-red eyes. She noticed that on the floor next to the log was a mixture of bullets—some shell casings and some unfired ones. Out of curiosity, she picked it up and examined it before exhaling deeply, which is when she noticed something else. Something she could just about make out if she scrutinised her eyes—something on the nearest hill—looked like two figures. One followed the other, and they looked like they stopped to look at her, making her start to hyperventilate as her eyes extended to the size of oranges. Was it someone she knew? Was it a threat to her? She didn’t know.
"Lee said I needed to find Omid and Christa before he got killed because of me." She said to herself, still looking sad, as she noticed that the two figures were now coming down the prominent hill—they didn't look like walkers. So she clasped her gun tightly until the figures came into view. She ended up not firing the gun and running towards the figures, as it was Omid and Christa, and they were alive!
Omid was a tall, slim Persian-American man with short dark-brown hair and a beard to match.
Christa, on the other hand, was a slightly taller African-American lady. She also had jet-black hair tied up in a ponytail, and she was Omid’s girlfriend.
"Clementine, honey, where's Lee?" Christa asked, kneeling to the nine-year-old.
"H-h-he's...dead." She answered with her face buried in Christa’s shoulder.
"Oh, Clementine, we’re sorry," Omid said, who started to kneel to her height as well.
"W-where's Ben and Kenny?" Clementine asked, still with her face buried in Christa’s shoulder.
Omid and Christa then looked at each other without Clementine noticing, and it was Omid who told her what happened to Ben and Kenny.
"So, it’s just us three," Clementine responded, now looking at Omid and Christa with her eyes dry again, a short while later.
"I guess, Clem, I guess so." Christa replied, "Come on, let’s go somewhere safe."
With this, the trio (Clementine, Omid, and Christa) began to walk, with Clementine tagging behind while Omid and Christa were in front. They were busily talking away, apart from Clementine, who was still looking at her feet, along holding the gun in her hand. As a result of this, she wasn't engaged in the conversation that they were having. She was too melancholy about what happened today. With her being kidnapped, seeing her walker parents, Lee dying, and now Kenny and Ben dying as well.
It was a lot for her to take in.
* * * * *
Sometime later, the trio found an abandoned house that had been abandoned for decades, as thick ivy hugged the walls. Furthermore, it reminded Clementine of that house they stayed at in Savannah; it was hard to believe that was a month ago.
Anyway, they succeeded in getting into the house rather than struggling, so now they could search within it.
Clementine, honey," Christa said, kneeling to her. "Omid, and I believe you can search parts of this house on your own. Just remember, if someone, walker or not, tries to hurt you, you got your gun. If you run out of bullets or are in a tight place, call us, and we will help you if you get into trouble. Do you understand?"
“Yeah, I do, Christa; I will be careful."
“Good," replied Christa, "let me know if you find anything."
With this, Clementine strayed a little by searching for anything useful on her own, though she stayed close to Omid and Christa.
As usual in the kitchen, she found faded, rusted cans with nothing but spoiled food inside. So she decided to head upstairs, and it seemed like they creaked with every step; as Omid and Christa were searching the enormous living room. Once she was upstairs, she clasped her pistol tightly and opened the door with one of her hands and the other on the pistol. Nothing. The room was that of a bathroom, with its normal interior—a bath, sink, toothbrushes, and some cupboards—which was stripped of life.
So she closed the door, walked to the next door, and proceeded to open it in the same manner she did for the bathroom. This room was that of a child’s room, which made Clementine remember her room back in Georgia, with its toys and books. It felt like she was just coming home from school and wanted to play with her dolls until supper time; it was hard to believe that was a year ago. Yet, here she was searching for anything useful in terms of survival—and not searching for a certain toy she wanted to play with at present.
“Just as well Lee found me when he did.” She said to herself as she glanced over at the room, trying to remember simpler times. When she went to school, she watched cartoons all day and rode her bike in the park with her parents. When she was thinking about this, she noticed that there was a medium-sized lump near the wall, cloaked in dust. It was a doll, and there was a string attached to its back, and when Clementine pulled it, it produced the word "Mama”.
Clementine remembered the doll that her mother gave her for her sixth birthday; it was probably still in the back of the wardrobe.
Eventually, she found an old pocket-sized backpack with a few flowery stickers, along with a dark-blue hoodie in her size.
“Have you found anything, Clementine?” called out Christa.
“Yeah, a backpack and a hoodie," answered Clementine, walking towards the edge of the stairs where Omid and Christa were.
“Just remember to check the bag, Clem; they might have something useful." Replied Christa.
“Ok," Clementine replied, unzipping the bag and then putting her hand into it, but not looking into it. Lo and behold, she found a working lighter, and it looked like it had a decent amount of fuel for a while.
Clementine then walked to the conclusive door upstairs, and like what she did before, however, the door required a little exertion to open. As a result of this, Clementine noticed that the noise she made alerted her to the presence of a walker heading towards her. This, of course, made Clementine a little timid, but she knew what to do. As her heart started to ram against her ribcage, likewise, a thick seal of sweat began to form on her hands, transferring onto her gun.
Always aim for the head," Clementine said to herself as she exhaled deeply and fired the gun. BANG!! The walker fell with a deafening thud, and Clementine was astounded at herself for shooting the walker that was coming towards her.
I did it, I did it," she exclaimed in a loud whisper. Which is when the door bursts open to reveal Omid and Christa with perturbed faces.
"Is everything OK, Clem? Are you hurt?" Asked Omid.
Yeah, I’m fine; I’m not hurt. Replied Clementine, as the trio all stood in stupefied silence at the walker that Clementine gunned down. "Did you find anything? Clementine asked after a minute of silence.
"Yes. We have found two cans of beans and some water." Christa replied.
"Oh."
“Well, let’s keep moving on, Clem. People might have heard the shot and might come here.” Omid said.
“Ok," responded Clementine. "I said already, but I found a backpack and a hoodie."
“Put it on, Clem; it’s starting to get colder, and we get going."
“Ok, I’ll put it on now."
Clementine then took off her hat, gave the gun to Omid, put on the dark blue hoodie, put her hat back on, and took the gun back from Omid. After that, Clementine followed Christa and Omid downstairs and out of the house and walked on.
* * * * *
Some short weeks later, the trio now situated in a substantial-sized forest under a thick canopy of leaves with Omid tending to a fire. Clementine and Christa, however, were sitting down on some nearby log around the fire.
Christa was busy talking to Omid about her pregnancy, whereas Clementine was busy herself by looking at the stars. The stars flickered and danced in the sky like a million tiny flames, casting a shimmering glow over the forest below. Furthermore, the sky itself was filled with low oranges, along with a mixture of light blues. Which were progressively getting into the realms of dark blues, purples and then full-on jet-black. Moreover, there seemed to be a chorus of crickets hiding somewhere in lush grasses, chirping away harshly.
“I would say that rabbit is cooked now, Omid.”
“Oh, right, yeah,” replied Omid, as he began to take the cooked rabbit off the spit – and handed it out to Christa and Clementine, then to himself.
"Thank you very much," Clementine said as she reached for the rabbit meat before going back to look at the stars. She thought to herself as she ate: "How many are there? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?"
“Hm, what – sorry Christa; what did you say?”
“Omid and I said that we are going to rest here tonight and get going in the morning."
"Ok, as my legs still ache from all that walking we did today."
"Well, get some rest, you're going to need it," Omid said, rising from poking the fire.
"Ok," responded Clementine, getting up from the weather-worn log, wishing Omid and Christa a good night before she got onto the floor near the fire and began to close her eyes. She then began to dream about what she would be doing tomorrow, what would happen, and what she would see.
The next morning was filled with colours ranging from warm yellows trickling through the gaps in the trees. Clementine rubbed her eyes before getting up from the harsh, tough ground and walked to the log where she sat last night, where she saw Omid was cooking again.
"Morning, Clem," Omid said. "How did you sleep?"
"Ok, I'd rather sleep in a bed than on the floor."
"Yeah, I don't like it either, but it's necessary until we get to Wellington."
"Where's Christa?" asked Clementine, now looking around the campsite as she noticed Christa wasn't there.
But then, five minutes later, after Clementine had eaten, Christa came back - and with this, the trio began to walk on; with her now near Omid and Christa. Yet, like last time, Clementine's fingers were still wrapped around her pistol as if it were a part of her. But instead of looking at her feet, she was looking around the pensive clearing.
The clearing was serene, where only a few walkers were roaming around, but they could be seen more evidently through a few hacked trees. The trio strolled down the lane through dappled light filtering itself through the trees; moreover, the sound of the leaves rustled in the weak wind. There was also an occasional bird twittering away on a pile of stacked logs near the broad track Clementine, Omid, and Christa were walking. There was also an infrequent number of signs that littered the road.
"TWO MILES UNTIL TRUCK STOP", Clementine read as she walked on with Omid and Christa.
"How about...Isabella?" Christa said aloud.
"Nah," scoffed Omid, "James is far better."
"That's if it's a boy, Omid. Clementine, do you have any name ideas?"
"What about...Carley?"
"Yeah, that's a good name." Responded Omid, with an expression of puzzled thought in his voice.
For the next couple of miles, they (primarily, Christa and Omid) talked about what seemed to be endless baby names for Christa's child; to pass the time. Clementine wondered if her parents had this amount of difficulty when they chose her name.
Eventually, Clementine stopped a little as Omid and Christa walked on regardless; as she noticed there was a blackbird perched on a nearby tree which cawed before flying into the lush forest.
"What do you think?" asked Omid, as he poised at the truck stop over the abandoned road before crossing it with Christa and Clementine.
"Omid, you can't be serious," answered Christa.
"I am."
"We are NOT doing that."
"Why not?"
"Because one of you is enough!"

I wanted to share this story here because I’ve never experienced something like this really. To set the scene, before May I flew back to my home state in the Midwest (I live in CA now) to visit the last of my buddies who were graduating from college.
And for some quick (not) deep lore about this girl I’m about to mention. We met freshman year of college, we sat by eachother in a class and quickly became friends. Though this friendship only lasted that first semester for unspoken reasons. One for me being - we smoked together on Halloween night towards the end of that semester, I got wayyy too high, and thought they could tell, was so embarrassed. (She had no idea, come to find out). I went on and got a girlfriend (until 2022) and we didn’t speak for the next almost 6 years. She would occasionally and subtly like and interact with things I would share online here and there throughout those years. We hadn’t spoken in forever. I was about to be moving in with 3 friends, 2 men, 1 woman. Key details here: this 1 girl went on to become my gf. One night after we moved in, we all decided to download tinder for the fun of it. Within 5 minutes I got the first match, and it was this girl from freshman year, I ecstatically announced it. Flash forward to my relationship with this girl I lived with - it was never forgotten. She would use it against me when she was feeling insecure and ask if I loved her or was thinking about her. When in all honesty, I wasn’t, and didn’t speak to her, but she kept always planting this thought back in my head and questioning my commitment. I had a major crush on this girl when we had that class together, but that was years prior, and don’t think I even expressed it to anybody, but I got over it and moved on, never thought it was a possibility.
Flash forward.
Before going home to visit the boys I posted a photo of myself on my story, not particularly serious but was just feeling good in my skin that day. Me, being single for 2 years now, found that freshman year gal liked it. And cmon, instagram is basically a dating app and we all know it. I said fuck it, and DM’d her that I wanted to see her again. Because in all sincerity, I did. She always peeked my interest, we had good laughs and time together through those short couple months. Whenever I would see her around or from afar during school I would just be curious about what she was up to and like. This in no way ever lead unloyalty in my relationship, I was happy in it. But I pretty much “wasn’t allowed” to speak to her again or interact. Out of respect for my (at the time) girlfriend’s feelings, and knowing that even though I wasn’t feeling anything for this girl, my interacting with her would make my gf think otherwise.
After the Dm was sent
I left my phone in the car and anxiously went into the gym. When I came back I found a message of her saying how she would “love that” etc. To spare your time, if you’ve read this far - we had some good online chatting and came to find out that we were both very deeply crushing on eachother that freshman year, and thought we were both out of reach for eachother. This information would’ve gone unspoken and unknown forever had she not liked my story, and I not dmd. I asked her if at the end of my friends visit I could leave them early and come down to her and take her on a date. She lived about 4 hours south of where I was at. She happily agreed and this implied that I would stay with her.
The date went beautifully. It was out of a movie. Museam/butterfly house, food, sitting and talking for 4 hours straight, etc etc. the part that really surprised me as well was the level of open communication we had. She expressed that she was anxious before bed and I told her that she should tell me next moment she gets a wave, and she did. She said nobody has ever done that for her. I decided that I didn’t want to try and sleep with her because of all of these factors of the date, and this bit of anxiety. We slept together, but didn’t sleep together. The morning, all of it, was so lovely and romantic, and I think that by not having sex we established our quickly discovered joy for eachothers presence.
I had to leave after that morning and head home, to catch my flight back to CA. Again more movie shit. A wonderful date then leaving state right after, brutal.
Flash forward one more time, bear with me.
Current day. Last week she bought a plane ticket to come visit me here for 4 nights at the end of this month. I’ve never been with someone where I would be comfy with them visiting for that amount of time having only gone on one date. I am eagerly waiting for her visit, and she is the same. This is crazy right?! Maybe a good crazy. We are just both happy to be this enthusiastic about something. I think we are on the same page. Can’t really worry about other factors just yet. Need to enjoy it as and how it comes.
In short: the girl I met and lost touch with that my ex always worried about (for no valid reason. I had zero contact or feeling for this gal during relationship) is flying out to stay with me for 4 nights on the other side of the country after going on one date. We connected very deeply, very fast. My ex and I had a healthy split. She is definitely going to hate me and all of my past truthful statements will now become lies in her head right?