call me names.
I lock myself in a room, small dusty room - the dust is mostly dirt blows in through the open windows. pollen. it makes you sneeze, me sneeze, even after I close the windows, when it's getting too cold. call me 'sniffles', that's a name you could call me.
someone is afraid, long time they've been afraid and their fear makes them called 'fraidy cat'. they're shuddering. i look over at them in the corner and they shudder harder - i step closer, they shudder harder - like excited atoms, the friction, they start to glow. fire is burning in the corner of the room with them, in them, around them, and now the wallpaper (pale blue with little pink roses here and there) is charred black. hold out a hand (to offer them comfort), but the time is past (for comfort) and the soot blackens your fingertip. i wrote something in the soot like a dirty or a foggy car window (outside or inside, warm or cold). the wall was warm from their little inferno fire burning fire fire but it was years ago (the two steps across the room were years) and your finger doesn't burn, cold like a wall is cold. close the windows. the ashes make sniffles sneeze.
call yourself something big: you can be 'ace' or 'joe cool' or 'the fonz' or 'bullit' or 'brainy smurf' or 'indiana jones' or 'mr. creosote', point is that you've got a lot to give. I'm you. I know i'm you because in mirrors you look me right in the eye. I look over your shoulder. I push a boulder. The moon is like a boulder in space, weightless, and the earth and the sun are pushing it together. One does more work than the other. Rumor has it the moon's just an affectation the earth came up with to impress the sun. instead of reading this you should read that calvino story about the moon.
anyway, the moon's something big. all the dogs howl at it - of course they would. they're just a piece of the earth same as all of us, so it's a kind of arrogance then, the moonhowl, it's look-at-me look-how-great-I-am. I have some barbed wire too, the two dogs on opposite sides, one that's free and the other that isn't, the free one gets stuck below in the middle of the night and bleeds to death, the unfree one runs in circles pointlessly, digs a rut in the ground that matches the fence - the clever observation would be that the one with the name, 'fido' or 'rex' or 'killer', that despite being trapped in the boundary of the fence he's the one who's really free, and the one who has no name (he never had any use for one) is imprisoned in his own way, not by the fence but by his exclusion from the things that matter, the naming of things, etc. that's what you might write if you were trying to be clever.
instead of being clever, you could write the most obvious thing in the world. you could recite it, out loud, in public. you could read and write and recite to delight, the light that burns twice as bright, scribble with some graphite, at night. the persistent rumor (as advanced by the koyannisqatsi guy (that word, so mysterious and alien, of course actually just swiped like everything else from the people it once belonged to, belongs to him now)) that television rots children's brains has little basis in reality. i spent half my life watching television. if i remember correctly the gimmick in this film of his was that the kids were all zombies staring at the television, and the television was showing the disney adaptation of pinnochio or something. maybe it was dumbo. these are both films about being a prisoner. (sniffles might have been that disney dwarf, call him 'sneezy')
the thing i was getting at is that the cathode ray tube is where electrons go. your brain, your personality, it's all the same thing, electrons. they're stuck in your brain. some people believed that x-rays or gamma radiation or something were leeching out of the CRTs and this was why everyone was 'getting dumber', and they believed also that the programming itself was to blame, that if only we made the television more Moral and Upright and Proper things would finally fall into place. it never occurred to them that television was downstream of society itself, that is, them and their actions, the ones they do on purpose as well as the ones they do without thinking. in the cartoon, the wolf goes bananas because of how much of a hard-on he has for red riding hood, everyone is laughing when a train whistle comes out of his head or his eyes bulge out of their sockets, or his tongue is suddenly 50 feet long and unrolls like a red carpet, they laugh and the thought process which produces this hilarious moment is "sometimes desire is like your tongue unrolling like a carpet", "sometimes sex is like steam coming out of your ears", "sometimes your heart beats and every pump it's jutting ten feet out of your chest"
more and more quietly you walk up some stairs. they're creaky and you don't want to wake anyone. i say more and more because the first time you climb them, many years ago, it's too loud and you make the neighbors angry, and even though they don't tell you about it with words, you get the message. (one day you'll build a house with stairs that never creak or stairs that always creak, and this will solve the problem once and for all) the same goes for the heart-beats. heart beats too loud or too quietly. softly the heart beats. beats me.

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

The original "The Fast and the Furious" released in 2001, contains a biblical subplot. This isn't as farfetched as it seems, considering that this film was re-written before its release by David Ayer, who is considered "...one of the five most prominent Christians in Hollywood." The original screenplay was written by Gary Scott Thompson. His vision for the film was for an all Italian cast racing through the streets of New York City. David Ayer, rendered some rewrites that made the film what has become these 20-something years later. One of his changes sets the film in Los Angeles instead of New York. Scripturally, angels are messengers and there surely is a message in this film, which is a re-telling of Revelation 13 using the analogy of cars and street racing.
To sum up the message of Revelation 13 is this: The Roman Catholic Church represented by "the sea beast" (Revelation 13:1) unites with America represented by "the earth beast" (Revelation 13:11) to issue the Mark of the Beast (Revelation 13:16-18). Scripture supplies the most in-depth literature known to man and this film has become a pop-culture gem because of it. Let's look at some of the symbolism.
Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) is an allegory of the Roman Catholic Church. The name Dominic is derived from the Latin Dominicus and is a name given to boys born on Sunday. It is the root word for "Domingo" which is Spanish for Sunday. Contrary to the 7th Day Sabbath of the 4th commandment (Exodus 20:8), Catholics instituted their own day of worship, which is Sunday. Priest Brady, in an address, reported in the Elizabeth, NJ ‘News’ on March 18, 1903, stated, "It is well to remind the Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, and all other Christians, that the Bible does not support them anywhere in their observance of Sunday. Sunday is an institution of the Roman Catholic Church, and those who observe the day observe a commandment of the Catholic Church." Their are many pontifical orders in the Catholic Church and one of them is the "Dom-inican" Order. Pope Pius V was of the Dominican Order and he instituted the Inquisition. The Dominican monks are known for brewing beer and in the movie, Dom is constantly advertising "Corona Beer." Dominic Toretto drives a 1993 Mazda RX-7 FD. At the core of this car is a turbocharged Wankel motor, driven by rotors instead of pistons. The rotors are Releaux triangles and were prominent features on gothic style Catholic Churches. The Releaux triangle is also the basic shape for the triquetra which a symbol for the Trinity. The Trinity is never mentioned in Scripture as a name for God which is important. The Trinity is a Catholic invention. The Roman Catholic Church is named as such because it absorbed practices and traditions from the Roman Empire. It was Constantine that issued the first Sunday Law; an attempt to make Sunday holy. They used to hold races in the Coliseum to honor the Roman trinity known as the Captoline Triad or the Archaic Triad. The name Trinity was coined by Tertullian, a staunch Romanist. This is why Dominic uses three Honda Civics to pull of the heists, because Trinitarians believe the Holy Spirit is another being form that sits on the Throne of God; three on the throne. In reality, there are only two being forms, the Father and the Son, on the throne, with their Spirit being inherently there. Dominic's RX-7 has a Veilside body kit. The "veil" (Hebrews 10:20) is symbolic of Jesus Christ and the pope believes that He is an additional incarnation of Christ. In the beginning of Fast X, Dominic is portrayed as a defender of the Vatican and St. Peters. Dominic Toretto is the Roman Catholic Church.
Brian Spilner [O'Conner] (Paul Walker) is an allegory of American Protestantism. The name Brian means "noble" and nobility is defined as having "high morals standards and ideals." Brian is also a police officer or a keeper of the law. America was established as a Protestant Christian nation with the intent of upholding the Law of God. Most Protestants today have forsaken the Sabbath command and uphold the Catholic Sunday. Brian is also on the "wine of Babylon" and is seen drinking and distributing alcohol throughout the film. Protestant denominations now also believe in the Trinity, significantly compromising the strength of the Protest. Is this reflected in Brian's ride? Yes. Brian drives a 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse. The Mitsubishi symbol is a trinity of diamonds or rhombuses. At the heart of the Eclipse is a PentaStar 4G63 built by Chrysler. Chrysler secured a $75 million war contract to aid in producing J. Robert Oppenheimers "Little Boy"; the atomic bomb dropped on, of all places, Japan. The codename for the first atomic bomb test was "Trinity", named for the Catholic triune god. The American symbolism for Brian's car doesn't stop there. The American rebadged version of the Mitsubishi Eclipse, is the Eagle Talon. There is also an abstract blue and white eagle on the side of Brian's car; the eagle being a prominent symbol for America. Brian's surname "O'Connor" is of Irish origin. Catholics have slandered the name of St. Patrick claiming that he used the shamrock to preach the Trinity, but in reality he was vehemently against, or protested, the Catholic doctrine or the Trinity. Revelation 13:11 says that America sprang up like a Lamb (a symbol of Jesus Christ) but began to speak as a dragon (a symbol for Satan.) This denotes compromise. Brian is seen sitting with Dominic many times drinking alcohol, a sure fire way to lower your inhibitions and compromise your integrity. Brian has illicit relations with Mia, Dominic's sister [who openly displays her devotion to the Catholic Church in the film], which seals his compromise. Brian then ends up lying to his superiors after sleeping with Dom's sister. Brian is an Apostate (Lawless) Protestant Church.
Brian loses his car to Dom in a street race, which transfers ownership of the American-powered Eclipse to Dominic. Eventually, America will be owned by the Roman Catholic Church and will "build an image to the beast" and issue the Mark of the Beast on their behalf. The Eclipse is destroyed. Is not America in such a a state of declension, that the calling of a moral leader seems like the only way to save this country? Remember, Pope Francis came to America in 2015 and addressed not only the nation from the White House, but also an active session of Congress. We are a constitutionally church and state separate nation. What was the Pope doing there? Dom and Brian start working on another car to replace the destroyed Eclipse; a 1994 Toyota Supra. Before 1990, there was no official symbol for Toyota. On October 2, 1989, the official logo was released. The symbol is a "T" comprised of a trinity of ellipses. The code name for a 1994-1998 Supra is the Mark IV(4). So the Toyota Supra contains as mark and a trinity.
So what is the Mark of the Beast? Sunday observance and worship enforced by law. Dominic's name associates him with Sunday and Brian, being a police officer, associates him with the law. When they united to build the Supra together, it symbolized a National Sunday Law aka The Mark of the Beast. Their union also is symbolic of the formation of church and state in America: the "image to the beast." By the way, all graphics for the cars in the film were supplied by "Modern Image." When this forms, we are in "Barney Rubble Trouble." We are a country built on ecclesiastical liberty, but when a Sunday Law is put into motion, those who accept the law, will lose their "Liberty of Conscience." No good. This is why when Pope Francis addressed an active session of Congress, where we pass laws, was not a good sign. In fact, Pope Francis chose a Fiat 500 to ride in when he came to America. The word "fiat" translates to "law." This was not a coincidence.
How does this movie end? After one final race, Dominic flips his car, receiving a "deadly wound" (Revelation 13:3). Dominic (the pope, the outlaw) is not captured and brought up on charges as he should. Instead, Brian (America, the law, the Image to the Beast) hands over the keys to the Supra, giving Dominic complete power and ownership. Scripture says that the Roman Catholic Church will come to an end and that God's true people need to "come out of her...lest ye be partakers of her plagues..."
The promotion of Sunday, the exaltation of the Trinity, the apocalyptic formation of the Image of the Beast (Church and State) and the fraudulent retelling of prophecy is all contained in a little movie about street racing released almost 23 years ago. The sequels, attractions, and merchandise have never ceased to roll off the assembly line. Sequels that point to Dominic as a Catholic Champion. Even in "The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift", the first song to play is "Six Days" by DJ Shadow. [Refer to Exodus -11] This song puts Monday as the first day of the week making Sunday the Seventh Day, giving Sunday the appearance that it is the Sabbath of the Lord. Yes. The Fast and the Furious is arrayed against the Law of God. The sobering fact is, Revelation 13 is already being played out right in front of our eyes. This film, which could arguably be called "The Last Great Film Before 9/11", portrayed the various steps and phases that America, nay the world, was about to go through, with the audience unaware. Sadly, Paul Walker has passed, but the message lives on today, with the OG Fast and Furious still being the greatest effort in the series.
Thank you for your time and consideration. 🙏🏾🙏🏽
Please watch the video Swift to Mischief: A Prophetic Exposition of "The Fast and the Furious" for greater detail.

i met this guy on hinge and he seemed like a chill vibe. Based off of his photos he seemed to be someone i would be attracted to. dark complexion, medium build , introverted, and kind of nerdy. We had matched, exchanged numbers, and developed somewhat of a connection but nothing serious. we had mutual interest like video games, and x-men comics. i wanted to get to know him better outside of messaging and asked him if he wanted to see a movie. he responded with “i would love to, but i am currently not working and wouldn’t be comfortable with you paying for your own ticket on the first date.” i found that commendable, and understood that it was currently hard to get a job in our city at the moment (Toronto/GTA AREA). as we continued to talk he became eager to meet me in person, and asked if we could go on a walk. i agreed, but he proposed that we meet him somewhere five minutes away from his house, which was a 30 minute drive away from mine. i expressed that i didn’t feel comfortable doing that because i didn’t see the difference in paying for my own movie and paying for my own gas there and back to see someone for the first time. he also didn’t offer to meet anywhere in between which i would’ve been fine with. for context he told me he didn’t drive or have his license. he agreed with my sentiments and apologized, so we met somewhere in between the both of us. we walked around a local mall for an hour and i told him where to meet me. he had a little bit of trouble but we saw each other and embraced each other with a hug. he then pressed me for not giving him better details on where he could find me but i never thought anything of it. if i’m going to be honest i expected him to look different. firstly he lied about his height, which didn’t make any sense to me but whatever i don’t care for height. i also noticed his hygiene was off. he had insanely cracked dry skin, peeling lips, foam in the corner of his mouth, and an insane amount of build up under his long finger nails. i ignored it and just continued to walk and talk. i notice he couldn’t hold a conversation for his life making it very awkward but i sympathized with him, as he could’ve been nervous. time goes by we’re just walking, window shopping and then he asks for us to go get patties. we went to the patty shop, i bought a patty and he bought one. he noticed the hiring sign, and while on the date he filled out an application for that job. while he was filling out the application i was planning an exit in my head out of this situation. i found it a bit awkward and maybe rude to do so on your first date with someone. i didn’t say anything and then we went home. i went to my car and asked if he needed a ride. he said no, i drove here. at this point i wanted a gun to shoot my self. he had already told me he doesn’t have his license so i was confused how he drove here and why he wanted me to drive all the way to his end of the city if he could drive. i confronted him and told him i thought he didn’t drive. he told me its his dads car and he just takes it sometimes. we then hugged and went our separate ways. the next day he messages me talking about the kind of relationship he wants and tells me he just wants a sexual relationship but nothing serious. i was thinking of a response as this was random and we never had this convo or any conversation like this before. but as time went on i couldn’t think of a reply and ended up ghosting him. do you think i was justified in my actions, or should i have made a better effort to come up with a response?

I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/Direct-Armadillo-770
Originally posted to AITAH
AITAH if I don’t go to my sister’s wedding because she is excluding my husband?
Thanks to u/queenlegolas and u/Direct-Caterpillar77 for suggesting this BoRU
Editor’s Note: added paragraph breaks for readability
Trigger Warnings: verbal abuse, ableism
Original Post: May 11, 2024
I (F , 36) have been married to my husband Brad (M , 40) for the last 6 years. I have a daughter (F,10) from a previous relationship (we were engaged when he abandoned me when I was pregnant to be with his coworker and eventually disappeared).
Brad loves and adores my daughter and my daughter loves him so much . I’m currently pregnant with our first baby (my second baby) . Brad is a paraplegic. He was in a car accident when he was 21. He has since his accident went back to school and currently works as university prof . He is super independent and possibly the best man I could ever married .
My sister is getting married and today she announced that the venue she picked is a heritage building . I told her then it won’t be wheelchair accessible… she rolled her eyes and said “the world doesn’t revolves around Brad , it’s not his day ! It’s mine” . I said I understand but I’m not leaving him behind then . She started screaming that I’m trying to steal attention because everyone will ask where is bride’s sister . Her fiancé suggested having the ceremony at the heritage building but have the reception at another venue that way Brad can join us . My sister said no .
I talked to Brad , he thinks I should go and he and my daughter can have daddy /daughter date and he will take care of her (it’s a child free wedding and we were initially going to ask Brad’s mom to watch my daughter) . He thinks it’s not a big deal and I should just go and enjoy the wedding . I feel very bad and don’t want to go but my sister will be so upset . AITAH if I don’t go to my sister’s wedding because she is excluding my husband ?
AITAH has no consensus bot, OOP was NTA
Relevant Comments
Still_Actuator_8316: Do what feels right to you.
I can see you love your husband very much. And you have every right to be mad that your sister wants to exclude him.
And serious. How hard is it to rent a temporary ramp to be put in place so he can go. But since I don't know the stair situation I can give a pass about that. But there are options

OOP: It’s an old heritage building with lots of stairs unfortunately. I feel really bad for my husband tbh

bluefurniture: I like the idea of the Dad and daughter day. Are you in the wedding party? How does the heritage building get away with skirting ADA laws.? Your sister is awful and at least the fiance is empathetic. don't be surprised if there is no wedding.

OOP: I’m not in the wedding party . Sadly it’s 2024 and we still don’t have something like ADA in Canada . Since it’s a heritage building they don’t care about accessibility. Yes , my husband once a month has a daddy/daughter date . They go to different restaurants each time and do any activities she chooses :)

Great-Asparagus8788: As a Mom of a Differently Abled Daughter- I have to say #1 your sister didn't turn overnight. She's been enabled in her ROTTEN behavior her whole life. Your parents should be ashamed. Your Hubs sounds awesome though! You don't have to ask permission to turn your back on a dumpster fire. Point out it's on fire and the privledge of you ,your husband and their grandbabies presence will be restored when the fire is out. And then leave.

OOP: My parents pay for my sister’s big wedding . They did pay for my at home reception when we eloped as well ( they invited everyone ( about 14 people ) to a restaurant ). I talked to them . They said they do love Brad but it’s my sister’s day and they can’t force her to change her mind . Yes I’m disappointed at them . I just don’t understand how you can claim you respect someone yet tell him to stay home ! You are not welcome …my husband is used to not being included so he is okay . I just can’t get over it

 
Update: May 12, 2024
My post : https://www.reddit.com/AITAH/comments/1cpuqyy/aitah_if_i_dont_go_to_my_sisters_wedding_because/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
. Thank you everyone for your kind words and advice.
It’s Mother’s Day today and of course my husband and my daughter decided to spoil me rotten :) we went for Mother’s Day lunch to my parents. My sister and her fiancé, Bob (his name is Babak , he is Iranian but everyone calls him Bob) came too.
Brad , Bob and my dad were in the backyard Bbqing and chatting . My mom and my sister were in the kitchen talking . My sister went on and on about her wedding plans . I asked her if there is any possibility that she would consider Bob’s suggestion? She can have her civil ceremony , Iranian ceremony , and all her pictures done in her dream venue then have the reception which is just dinner , dance and cake somewhere else . I told her it means alot to me if she makes this accommodation for Brad.
My sister LOST it! Started screaming that I have always been jealous of her and now trying to ruin her dream wedding . She said I’m jealous because I never had a big wedding and had to elope because I had a kid out of wedlock (I didn’t have to ! It was our decision to have a stress free elopement). She also said it was my choice to marry “a cripple” guy so why should her wedding plans has to change . My mom told her to stop but she kept on going . I told her then I’m not coming . I told Brad and my daughter that we were leaving . I couldn’t stay there anymore . Her entitlement sickens me .
Now my parents are mad at me for even suggesting because “your sister is under stress”. My dad thinks I acted immature by leaving and mom says I overreacted because I’m pregnant and hormonal ! I’m so disappointed at my parents too for not standing up to my sister . My plan is to go NC with my sister. I don’t even know who she is anymore . So no happy update . I just cut my sister out of my life and will NOT be going to her wedding. Sorry for typos I’m very emotional right now
Comments
RNGinx3: SaveBob
Your sister is a jerk, and your parents enable and excuse her tantrums. I'd put sister on NC and parents on LC.
Swampy_63: Let them be mad. Their loss.
Your sister has shown exactly who she is. Bubbye.
Hopefully your parents will come to their senses and understand why you’re not going.
captainhyena12: Wow insult your husband calls him a cripple take shots at both you and your child for the child being born out of wedlock and then your parents have the audacity to tell you you're overreacting because you left what? How the hell does someone even have that much? Audacity and this is coming from me. Someone who admittedly at times has way too much audacity.
 

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

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

As I sit here, under the shimmering glow of the midnight stars, my mind wanders about how would make this moment special. Then… I came to a conclusion; the best addition to this evening would be a warm cup of tea. I do also wander about having my shoulder touching a second shoulder as we point and look at the stars, talking about the most random things. What would life be like without pockets? What would humans look like if we could breathe under water? What would the world be like without hatred? I’d love to talk to you, with you, and build these memories with you. I want to brush your hair after you shower and dry it for you, I want to make the bed for you and get a book ready. But enough about what I want. Please spam me with what YOU want in a relationship.
Here are some perks about me; are they pros or cons? Who knows! - Brown hair - Hazelnut/green eyes - Light skinned - I love drawing and designing - I enjoy cooking and baking - Cringy dad jokes? Hell yeah! - Holding hands - I make light of things - Communication - No one night stands - Date to marriage - I can fix cars, wood, and appliances - I don’t know what else to add haha
In conclusion; if im someone who’s within your spectrum, someone who you’d like to know and chat with; feel free to shoot me a message. We can casually chat at first; be friends and go from there. I personally think that once I share my Netflix password with you; that’s when we can talk about upgrading from friendship to a more serious thing.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk, I hope you have a lovely day today and I wish you a merry Halloween and a happy new chicken 🌹

As I sit here, under the shimmering glow of the midnight stars, my mind wanders about how would make this moment special. Then… I came to a conclusion; the best addition to this evening would be a warm cup of tea. I do also wander about having my shoulder touching a second shoulder as we point and look at the stars, talking about the most random things. What would life be like without pockets? What would humans look like if we could breathe under water? What would the world be like without hatred? I’d love to talk to you, with you, and build these memories with you. I want to brush your hair after you shower and dry it for you, I want to make the bed for you and get a book ready. But enough about what I want. Please spam me with what YOU want in a relationship.
Here are some perks about me; are they pros or cons? Who knows! - Brown hair - Hazelnut/green eyes - Light skinned - I love drawing and designing - I enjoy cooking and baking - Cringy dad jokes? Hell yeah! - Holding hands - I make light of things - Communication - No one night stands - Date to marriage - I can fix cars, wood, and appliances - I don’t know what else to add haha
In conclusion; if im someone who’s within your spectrum, someone who you’d like to know and chat with; feel free to shoot me a message. We can casually chat at first; be friends and go from there. I personally think that once I share my Netflix password with you; that’s when we can talk about upgrading from friendship to a more serious thing.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk, I hope you have a lovely day today and I wish you a merry Halloween and a happy new chicken 🌹

Platform(s): The platform on which I played it was Android, I downloaded it from the Play Store, I remember that the application icon was a taxi on a light blue background.
Genre:: The game genre was about driving vehicles to take passengers to their destination in a period of time. Third-person view with the camera following the vehicle.
Estimated year of release: The game was from 20012-2014.
Graphics/art style:: The map graphics, cars and npc. They look like those from Pokemon Quest, that simple style and ''nice and pleasant'' shapes. It also has a certain resemblance to the cars from Crossy Road. It was always sunny, there were cars driving on the roads, you could see the npc's raising their hands to ask for a taxi, there were no animals. The map was made up of a small city to the North and an urban neighborhood to the South. Both parts were linked by two bridges and in the center a small wooden port. The map was bounded by water and you could sink.
Notable characters: You always drove vehicles, cars of all kinds, fire engines, taxis, police cars, personal vehicles, I don't remember if there were sports cars, ambulances, etc.
Notable gameplay mechanics: : The characters were cars, you started with a taxi and later you could get more varied cars, such as garbage trucks, police cars, firefighters.
Other details: You could play offline. The game was simple, there was the game menu while in the background you could see your selected car, when you touched the screen your car accelerated and you started looking for passengers. There was also the section where you could see the vehicles that you already have, but still need to obtain. I don't remember how the cars were obtained, I guess they were coins that you earned and used to get a random car. It is similar to when you open a Counter strike box. I remember you could see NPCs raise their hands to get your attention. I also remember that you could run over said passengers and the police would start chasing you. You always drove across the map. You could go across the road avoiding the cars in front of you and you could take shortcuts if your car could fit through them. I remember that on the left of the screen a timer appeared to take the passenger to their destination. I don't remember if you could take more passengers in your car (probably yes).
What I remember most is the game map, I did my best to draw it as I remember it.
The red color to the north refers to a Cinema/theater, to the north you can see what would be the beach there was and to the south I remember that there was also sand, the orange is a gas station that I remember there was always there, the purple is the houses in the urban area, the brown thing in the center is that small fishing port that you could use as a shortcut, the yellow thing was a barber shop that was located in that area, the roads are gray colors and the red thing divided with a road was a building residential that had an alley.
The drawing is simple, but it can be very useful. This is what the map would look like from afar as far as I can remember. To help, the northern area is full of gray residential buildings and the urban area is houses with wooden roofs. I hope this is helpful to help me find this game.
https://preview.redd.it/sfhwj86uua1d1.png?width=2486&format=png&auto=webp&s=a496071ad2b334aeabf372eae6d003dcddebeb04

I never really have done a “review” so to speak of a film, but after sitting through to ‘properly’ watch my favourite Saw for a first tonight I really have to praise every little bit about it. What Leigh and James et al did with such a tiny budget is nothing short of phenomenal.
A big criticism of the first film is about its pacing, with many calling it a bit more “boring” than the instalments to follow. However, I think Saw 1 is excellent at combining its horrific trap plot and the detective story into one with such an intimate set of characters you can invest in. The later films build a bigger and bigger gap between the trap plot and the ‘police’ segments of the film, with the gore being the main focus. But in Saw, they’re practically a part of the bathroom trap. It helps that Tapp and Sing are written as close to Gordon already, more distanced from the main police force, allowing the pursuit of Gordon and the hunt for Jigsaw to be far more personal and unique and less bland with characters who are actually associated with each other. Saw 1 feels like one long story that puts all its pieces together, rather than two separate plots that only join together come the ending. It’s thus very consistent and developed if you can involve yourself.
The film’s tiny budget also means that there is a cut back on how much gore they actually managed to get in there, and I feel this helps a lot. While other films like X have proven that high budget gore does not have to be the highlight of the film, along with the ‘soap opera’ sort of plot that runs through all the films, I think Saw’s mystery of the Jigsaw killer makes the investment in the film far greater and interesting than that of just watching it for repetitive violence. The story itself I found to have good pacing, with the flashbacks, though slightly repetitive at times (cough car park scene cough) and the editing being slightly questionable, feeling necessary and a healthy addition to the film’s developing plot if you can get yourself involved with it. Simply put, there’s no real “filler” in the film, with even the more laid back scenes still fitting the topic and thus keeping you both interested and on-edge, as you have zero idea what to believe on a first watch; it’s also nice to look back on how the different characters acted and thought once you do know the full lore behind the film.
The actors brought so much energy to the film, and were 100% a big part of its success and legacy. Though questionable at times, the bond between Lawrence and Adam which take up a bulk of the film’s 103 minute run time never manages to fall flat, with their actual journey and development being very powerful as we are stuck with them traversing through this escape room. Once we find more about both of them, we can only feel more emotion for the situations they’re in. Others, like Glover, do an amazing and underrated job at ensuring their key characters help develop the story and make it believable. Tapp is both a unique and a very human character, and his descent into madness and obsession is portrayed excellently as he stalks Gordon like a lunatic. Emerson as Zep is also key, with him playing the film’s big bad until the ending. The orderly definitely comes across as a psychopath, and the horror of the scenes with Diana and Addison really help add to the mystery and to the horror of the film and Jigsaw. Side note: I love the more classic horror scenes, like Zep in the closet and Adam’s apartment search - they’re super well done and give the film such a great variation on top of its torture + body horror.
Such a story for me, with there being more of an emphasis on Jigsaw’s motive, and why he targets people (as demonstrated with the film’s characters) and traps just being his symbolic method make the movie far more powerful. While it’s cool to see gore and effects from such a bold film, along with the thrill, I feel it’s so much more rewarding when it comes from a story you’ve followed and been a part of. After all, it is the flipping of what we know and the story finally being pieced together with the revelation of Jigsaw, on top of the filmmaking, that make the ending scene one of the best in movie history; it’s not the iconic shots alone that make the scene so great, it’s the build up and our minds being freaking blown that do as well - it sends a chill down your spine after such a rollercoaster of a movie, and it’s rewarding to discover it in such an epic way.
As messy as this analysis is, I really just wanted to get my love for this film out of my system. I love Saw for both the engaging pursuit of the mysterious Jigsaw killer and the escape room that develops throughout the film all falling into one intimate, entertaining and re-watchable classic. It’s easily my favourite horror and is one of my favourite films of all time, defying the “torture porn” label and showing just how unique and entertaining the Saw franchise can be at heart.

Hello Everyone,
I would like to share with you an idea me and a friend of mine had. We are working on a pilot for this. But we are wanting to do a show that is inspired by the movie Free Guy. It is called The Personality Factory. We have a lot of the details ready and everything.
Characters (FaithArt, Werehog, Wally art, and Error FaithArt belong to https://www.instagram.com/thefandomhunter?igsh=MXNlaGdhajB5dHFsNw==):
Ryl33 - Ryl33 is an A.I. girl who was once a CPU until she was mysteriously given her dreamy and kind personality. She is shown to be caring and a big hearted dreamer which is something her brother Brayd3n used to be. During the PIlot she works on trying to get her older brother Brayd3non board with helping her achieve free will for all of PIXELMANIA and show everyone can be more than their program
Brayd3n - Brayd3n is an A.I. boy who has an entertaining personality and was given it 5 years prior to the events of the pilot. He is dramatic, big hearted like his sister Rylee with a dash of comedy thrown into the mix, theatrical, and sometimes awkward. He enjoys entertaining others with his shows and performances yet he has a bit of guilt and trauma. He will continuously decline Rylee’s offer to help with the factory. He resides in Astral Glow
FaithArt - FaithArt another being from another world that came to this world to come help with the adventures of the factory gang, but she has programming that prevents her from inferring too much or telling the future but does her best to help out.
Werehog - one of FaithArts best friends since his world was created they’re really close and would do anything for eachother, colossal Werehog is a very sweet gentle giant that has a temper here and there and a mysterious past but is willing to help anyone with their emotional needs and is a huge hugger
WallyArt - he was found in his dying universe by FaithArt and was givin a new job to help FaithArt and Werehog any Chance he gets, he's a very sweet and gentle person that is very soft spoken and loves to paint as much as Faith. And is a medical professional both mentally and physically.
L!am - L!am is a CPU and a thief of PIXELMANIA and leader of the Rogers for…reasons. In the pilot he torments others in the many locations Rylee and Charlie go to and unknowingly distracts everyone from Rylee’s big idea. He was an orphan at a young age and refused to go to the orphanage. He can be immature yet caring and a real potty mouth.
Charl1e - Charl1e is a CPU assistant programmed to help Rylee as she is her boss. Charlie is organized and keeps to a schedule. Going against her program could cause catastrophic disasters
Error Faith - is a very vengeful version of FaithArt who's world was destroyed in a glitchy mess and she hates Faith for not saving her world from everything so she wants to destroy every single world/ universe that exists and rule both PIXELMANIA and inkblot.
Bright_Man - Bright_Man is a councilor CPU and the former leader of the PIXELMANIA council as he was demoted for an undisclosed reason. He is like a school bully and, like L!am, he is a potty mouth. Bright_Man has a huge hatred against Brayden and whenever he gets the chance he tries to boo Brayden off the stage and, secretly, try to kill him.
World Building: In the alternate video game like world of PIXELMANIA there are 4 sections consisting of Astral Glow, Hollows Village, Expo Canyon, and Speedway City. All four are connected by a special place called Console Centre
Astral Glow is a gorgeous world full of magic and wonder. CPUs learn all kinds of magic to become wizards, witches, warlocks, and fantasy styled warriors. CPU Faries also reside in this part of the world. Their houses are made of pure magic and can be in the air and the trees. They can even live in castles. There are many different magical locations here
Hollows Village is a land with a horrifying landscape, dark skies, and terrible monsters such as Werewolves, Zombies, Mummies, etc. Their houses are either cabins or mansions, or they can just sleep out in the dark forests of Talbot. Not many other locations other than the cemetery
Expo Canyon is a land full of perilous locations such as Volcanoes and dangerous seas. Their houses are hanging off of cliffs, on the water, in the trees and in other dangerous parts of the world
Speedway City is like a huge racetrack with no sidewalks at all. The only walking there is inside the houses which are racing garages or motorhomes for race cars. Speedway City is a fun place where you can race your heart out of the city in a fun way. But you can also race on the literal raceway and win big prizes
Console Centre is the center of all PIXELMANIA and the main land to all CPUs. This is where many CPUs can chill, meet new people (since CPUs are allowed to have friends as they are not soulless), and shop for themselves…Think of Free Guy almost
The Personality Factory is where all CPUs are made in the first place. All of the coded blood is stored in a special vault and placed into the CPU before color and customization begins. They are given their program through a Personality Randomizer which randomly gives the CPU their personality and how they act all day long. It is located on a small platform connected to the Console Centre.
Age Rating: TV-MA
Reasoning for the age rating: Lots of swearing (especially by Brayden and Liam), stylized yet bloody violence, and mature content
Premise: In an alternate video game-like world, Rylee, an A.I., goes out to pursue her dream of giving everyone the same free will that she has by giving them all the unique personality they choose to have. She creates a personality selector not knowing there is a history behind it. She seeks the help of her A.I. older brother Brayden with her assistant Charlie and some unexpected allies by her side.
Let me know what you all think

I remember the first time I played War of the Monsters on the PS2 was when my dad brought home a copy of the game and played with me and my siblings. I grew up watching monster movies and instantly loved this game. It has been 20 years since I have first played this, I decided to write this guide in advanced tricks and techniques that I have developed from my experiences playing this game. I hope you enjoy this read and that It increases your appreciation of this hidden gem.
There are many guides online that cover combos, tactics, item placements, boss guides, level guides, cheats, etc. This is not one of those. This will cover more niche and advanced techniques that you can use to enhance your capability in your gameplay.
This guide will be written with the assumption that the control scheme is set at control 'B' which you can set in the pause screen during a game. (I think most people have it set at 'A') It shouldn't effect how these techniques function but something to keep in mind.
This is a work in progress and I will edit this thread as I come across new info and insights into the game.
Glossary: Movement Special Attacks Rage Utility Map Awareness Advanced Combat
\\\\MOVEMENT////////
The monsters in the game have varying movement speeds (running, climbing), jump heights, and flying speeds. However even with the slowest monster you can work around the lack of speed with enough practice utilizing the following methods and the environment to your advantage. Little is more scary than a slow monster like Agamo zooming around your foes mwahaha!

The Dashing Mechanic<<<

As listed in the instruction manual, this allows your monster to sprint at the cost of energy by double-tapping and holding the foward button until expended or pressing the ram button.

Launching<<< You can use the ram button to launch yourself off buildings, ramps, and rock formations to get extra height quickly (a mechanic that the mini game 'Big Shot' is soley based around).

This is particularly useful in maps like baytown where theres a lot of verticality in the environment.

Super Fast Flying<<< This ram mechanic is especially useful for flying monsters like Preytor and Raptros. Executing the dash-ram in conjunction with holding 'x' right after ramming while on the edge of a building or flat surface will result in a blisteringly fast flight speed that gives you better movement and height. Preytor is super fast with this method while Raptros has better airtime and control, though the speed difference is minor. Raptros is my prefrence due to the better airtime, control, and Projectile damage.
Firing projectiles while flying<<< Raptros and Preytor both have the ability to capitalize on their aerial advantage by firing projectiles mid glide. You can accomplish this by performing the glide holding X and while holding glide tap the □ button to fire. This takes energy though so maintaining altitude is key. the most effecient way to do this is to execute the dash>ram>fly combo to get extra speed, glide up over your opponent and lock-on to them to spin like a vulture firing down on your target.
Lock-On Steering<<< You may notice that while dashing, your ability to steer your monster is stiff. This technique will allow you to navigate around all those tight corners on a dime while dashing! This is more tricky to execute because it is depenent on where your opponents are located around you. This is indicated on the HUD as these numbered circles that show the health status of your opponents.

While sprinting using the dash, hold the lock-on button to force your monster to take a tight turn in the direction of the closest target. This is great for adjusting after missing your target.
For simply turning tight corners, simply tap the lock-on button instead while the opponents icons are on the side you want to turn.
There is a brief charge up before a dash, if you time your lock on just before the dash activates, you can pull up to a sharp 180 degree turn on your opponent if you missed the first dash-ram.
There is some wiggle room in the timing to play around with and practice your navigation using this technique.

Building Hopping<<< Every monster has different climbing speeds, some are fast like Kineniclops and Preytor, some are slow such as Agamo and Togera.

Building Hopping is the simple action of jumping while climbing a building. Repeating this cycle of (jump+grab+jump+grab+jump) will do two things:

1. It will add more speed to slower monsters climbing
2. It will reduce your contact to the building by about 80% and greatly reduce the chance of getting knocked down when an opponent is throwing projectiles.

\\\\SPECIAL ATTACKS////////
Every monster has two special attacks at their disposal under two categories; Close range and Long range. This chapter will cover the expansive utility of both types.

Short Range Special<<< Despite the differences in the vibrant animations, all monsters share the short range special attack in common. The only difference between them as far as I can ascertain Is the the time it takes to start up the blast (Ultra V being almost instant and zorgulon Taking 1.5 seconds). The purposes most common is to give yourself space when surrounded or cornered, and to have a quick and strong offense to your opponent knocking them down. However there is more utility in this attack when you think of this as a defensive move.
Invincibility Frames<<< The short range special attack gives you about 2-3 seconds of invincibility frames meaning almost nothing can damage you aside from falling buildings. This is excellent as a defense against thrown objects, explosives, lightning, short and long range special attacks, and environmental hazards.
Long Range Special<<< Every monster has a unique long range special attack that has different effects and ranges. There is more nuance in how you can utilize these attacks, so I will cover each monsters long range special individually so you can make the most out of these attacks:

1. Raptros' Fire Breath Raptros has a unique advantage in regards to how he uses this attack. He can activate it on the ground AND while mid-flight. Additionally, he can fire his projectiles while using his fire breath to squeeze in extra damage (There is a weird glitch where doing this turns the flame invisible, but the effect is still active). This also hinders opponents and catches them on fire.
   
2. Togera's Atomic Breath Similar to 'Raptros's Fire Breath' Togera's Breath has similar range and hinders opponents. The difference is that it deals more damage. You can also fire his projectiles while using his breath for pretty nasty damage.
   
3. Preytor's Flying Leeches Leechs not very damaging by itself, it is a decent threat if you can manage to chain up multiple specials around the map. (Ex. In Metro City there are multiple red orbs, 50% energy, around the buildings and streets where you can chain at least 3 leeches). There are two minor benefits from the leeches: A. It gives the opponent something else to target or focus on A.I. or human B. Can't be blocked unless intercepted by thrown object or shot projectile, or using a special attack, thus resulting in multiplying damage stacks if chained. You can also spread the leeches out by locking on different targets while sending them.
   

*This Special attack is really best used in situations where the opponent won't have time to stop all of the leaches (preferabally up close) followed up with your own projectiles or thrown objects or follow up advances.

1. Congar's Sonic Roar Similar range to Raptros and Togera's Breaths, and Considerable damage and launches opponents far. It can reach through some buildings for full effect. You can also tilt congars head around to spread the roar around to get a wider spread. Opponent can block this attack or counter with a short range special.
   
2. Robo-47's Atomic Missile The most immediately damaging special in the game by far. It also launches opponents far like congars roar. It is very versatile at close range and long range. You can choose to fire quickly or wait to lock on the target for a more likely hit. You can tilt his head down to shoot the ground for a damaging 'short range' blast. You can also cancel the missile by pressing the block button for later use. It cannot be blocked unless opponent uses short range special or dodges.
   
3. Agamo's Head This special is unique in it can be used to farm for more energy considerably fast while weilding it, which in turn stocks you with an additional special when you are ready for the next head or short range attack. Creating an efficient cycle of banking more special attacks. It is damaging and knocks opponents down upon a confirmed hit. It also can be used as a bomb by pressing the long range special button a second time. This isnt great for throwing at enemies from a distance as an explosive, launching opponents. The head when thrown is also super bouncy and ricochets damaging buildings and knocking down opponents all the while gaining you energy.
   
4. Magmo's Eruption This special launches a barrage of fireballs at an opponent and juggles them into the air with good damage followed up with some decent fall damage. This can be paired with a second erruption when chaining with a second special pickup on the map. You can tilt magmo's head up first before locking on an opponent to send the fireballs over obstacles and tyen lock on to your opponent have a better chance to reach them.
   
5. Kineticlops's Lightning storm This is great for crowd control and anti-air with good range. The storm electricutes all nearby monsters in range and launches them upward. This is nice for discouraging flying enemies. You can also flick the lighting up and down for flavor just to show off but it won't do much damage.
   

*Its also nice using this special following a one-two combo of shocking an opponent with a power generator and throwing for a double shock.

1. Zorgulon's UFO Swarm Arguably the weakest of the long range specials, but it is still is fun to use and can be used in creative ways. If you lock-on a target while executing this special (provided they are not behind cover) you will fire this device that hover above the target that calls in ufos to harrass the opponent. The damage is varied based on how many shots are managed by the ufos and when the device is destroyed. There is a charge on the device that when run out releases the ufos and ends the special. This can be shortened if you damage them in any way. Another use is to place them in an area of interest, such as locations with resources like health, energy, or powerups. It is more defensive and punishes opponents for going where you don't want them to go. You can also grab these ufos for a weapon to attack with, gaining more energy or even fire their lasers at the opponent. while not practical is fun.
   
2. Ultra V's Grapple Cable This special does minor damage but can grab and pull an opponent across the map to you and stuns the enemy for a few seconds. This can be really nasty since it allows you options to set up a combo, launch them with a 360 kick, pull them into environmental hazards (bottomless pits, radioactive waste, powerlines, steam, tsunamis, falling buildings). It can be use up close for an easy stun or to take opponents away from reaching resources such as Health, Energy, or powerups. At long ranges it is best used at highground where line of sight is less blocked by obstacles. You can also send the grapple while holding any object for extra damage. The fan favorite method is to use explosives (gasoline truck, airplanes, fuel tanks) for an explosive combo! even if you miss with the grapple the impact of the explosive will hit the opponent if close enough. You can also use the grapple to damage buildings to knock opponents off the walls.
   

\\\\Rage Utility//////// Rage is an interesting mechanic that I think some people overlook as not that useful. It Is available once you collect enough energy that you energy bar flashes, and makes it so your following actions are more effiecient than standard usage. Instead of your energy being used up quickly it is unlimited until the rage runs out. I have not tested if Rage increases your damage output. I have focused this as more a tool for various tactics I came up with.

sprinting with rage<<< using the dash usually expends energy really fast. however with Rage, you can extend the time you can continue you sprint significantly. you can Also dash-ram infinitely until expended, which is scary when used in conjunction with the lock-on steering technique.
Firing projectiles with rage<<< Every monster has projectiles that have unique behaviors, have varying damage and cost. Every monster in general benefits from using rage to shoot more projectiles, the difference is in how you position yourself to shoot them effectively.

Flying monsters can use this to fire even more projectiles while in mid-flight without worrying about losing stamina, the unlimited energy also gives room to reposition the monster if more altitude is needed the damage is also decent from both of them.
Robots like Robo-47 and Ultra V have similar projectiles that pepper small damage but are very rapid. The faster you mash the □ button, the faster the firing rate. when using rage you can catch opponents with little cover and barrage them with a volley of lasers/bullets.
Kineniclops's projectile is unique that it is the slowest but has the most heat seeking property. You can shoot a lot with little cost and it deals decent damage especially if you can land multiple hits with them. with rage you can create an army of these lightning balls at some highground or running and jumping approaching them from different angles makes it hard for them to avoid the stacks in damage.
\\\\Map Awareness//////// This section will cover Map awareness and how to take advantage of the abundant resources in your game. knowing the layout of the map as well as intimately knowing the placement and respawn time of your resources will aid you so much in how you decide to approach the following setups we are about to cover here.

Resources<<< Resources are defined as anything on the map you can pick up that aids you (Health, Energy, Powerups, Items). The location of Health, Energy, and powerups on each map is static, though consistent and respawn after a period of time. Items However can both be static (pieces of a building, rocks, water towers) and dynamic (moving items like cars, helicopters, trains).
chaining resources<<< This is a series of actions that utilizes multiple resources for a desired outcome. (ex. gaining health/energy/damage).

For example, chaining a power transformer lightning bolt+throwing the transformer+radio tower spear impale+gasoline truck = a chain resulting in big damage to your opponent there are many combinations you can chain together with items its devistating when you know exactly when and where an item will be so you can in rapid succession throw items to juggle them from a distance.

chaining specials<<< For example, it is possible to set oneself up to use at least three specials in succesion easily in a map such as atomic island where the reactor in the center can recharge your special rapidly. Think of the possibilities with this alone, thats 3 to 4 flying leechs from preytor at once, 3-4 nuke missiles from robo- 47 and so on. Other maps have instances where if you have a special in stock you can position yourself next to another red orb or 50-100% energy and use a special of your choice and follow it up with an additional special that you subsequentally grab.

\\\\Advanced Combat//////// There are guides out there that cover the specific combos you can pull in sequence and I have a few quick tips to increase your combos, and increase your lethality.

Combo canceling<<< Each monster has varying speeds in execution and amount of hits they cam perform before they end with a launching strike. What I suggest when pursuing higher combos is to simply tap the block button before the launch. Speed is key here so results may vary. such as congar who is more combo focused with fast punches. You can unleash a lot of hits and tap the block button, the follow up with more hits. there is a chance that the opponent will have time to block so it takes practice.

I don’t really know where the story of my alcoholism begins, though I only admitted I was an alcoholic about one month ago, and as of the time I’m writing this, I’ve only been sober for about 30 hours.
I never remember drinking in any meaningful capacity until I enlisted into the Marine Corps at 18, directly following high school. I’d rather not go into much detail about my service, but I remember many times partying with fellow Marines on the weekends or on leave and getting absolutely shitfaced, but it was never a regular occurrence, and I never drove drunk, got caught by my superiors, or ever really thought about anything other than the horrible hangovers I would get.
After getting medically retired, and moving back home, this is where I believe it slowly began. I started processing the unaddressed traumas of not only military service, but as I reconnected with family for the first real time in adulthood, I began to realize how my family had adversely affected my formative years, and how the mental, verbal, and sometimes physical abuse began to come up to the surface of my daily reality.
But even still, I was a cigarette smoker and would very seldom do things like smoke weed. Drank socially and rarely to excess.
Between 2012-2014, I believe, is where things began to start escalating, though still slowly. I had a horrible relationship end horribly. Got fired from my first job. Had to drop out of school. I was quickly going broke (due to said lost job). I got fortunate in mid 2014 to land a cool healthcare job. I worked nights. I began to notice I would come home every morning and drink 2-3 VERY stout martinis. And it got worse on my off days. That is until I discovered bourbon.
I loved everything about it. The history. The process of making it. The diversity. The taste. I found myself going out more and more to bars, distilleries, etc. Buying, collecting, building a network of friends who also enjoyed bourbon. Talking about bourbon to fellow coworkers.
In 2017, following multiple break-ups/get back togethers with my girlfriend at the time, I found out she was pregnant, and I had just started working for a very busy EMS system while also in school. The relationship was not stable, and shortly thereafter, I had the final falling out with my family after their despicable behavior in the final months of pregnancy and when my girlfriend delivered my beautiful daughter.
Due to an absolute shit work schedule (24 hour shifts), a hectic school schedule (typically 2 school days and at least two clinical days), an unstable relationship, and new parenthood, I believe this to be the turning point. I remember not wanting to come home. I remember wanting, needing to drink. I remember my anxiety and depression beginning to unfold rapidly. But somehow, it still never reached a critical mass. When my daughter was 3 months old, I broke off the relationship, we moved to our own places, and decided to coparent.
As time moved forward, I began collecting and consuming more bourbon. At first, I was very good about not drinking much or anything at all on my days with my kid. I started working a lot of overtime, sometimes working 2.5 shifts (60 hours) straight, because money I guess. But this added stress on my body and mind and the constant exposure to the ugliest of illness and injury, trauma and despair drove my need to drink, my anxiety and my depression even further.
I began driving tipsy. Getting in stupid arguments with my next partner and leaving to go on a bourbon “hunt.” I began working more because I was spending insane amounts of money on allocated bourbons. And I would be surprised and somehow prideful that I’d put down a half bottle of rare, high proof bourbon the night before, but ignoring the fact I couldn’t remember shit about that night until my partner reminded me of how much of an asshole I’d been.
That relationship eventually ended. In truth we weren’t good for each other for many reasons on both sides, but on my side, my drinking got way out of hand. I drove tipsy or drunk regularly. We got in an argument one time downtown and I left her there because she didn’t want to be in the car of a drunk driver. My drinking, among other things, caused me to become emotionally abusive and an emotional roller coaster.
After it ended, I found a new version of myself after a long period of severe depression and anxiety and got back in to many of the passions I’d neglected for years. But I still drank. Heavily.
I left EMS to work in the ER for better hours, pay, more professional support, etc. It was a godsend. Or so I thought.
Then I met my new partner, my current one. We’ve been together for over 3 years. We both struggle with depression and anxiety. But I’m the only one who still struggles with alcoholism. And as it has gotten worse as each new relationship begins and ends, I’ve found that in this one it’s reached the absolute critical mass.
I’ve gotten so drunk that I had a massive panic attack and held a gun to my head. Thankfully my former best friends were also there to talk me down (I say former because I recently had a bender where I kicked them out of my life).
I’ve gotten so drunk that I’ve continued to drive drunk, and that has resulted in my flattening a tire on my car, and backing into a parked care at a Mexican restaurant. The latter generated a county sheriffs deputy to come out for a police report and I somehow did not get a DUI.
But I continued.
Countless drunken fights. Countless times of us fighting and me kicking her out of my house, for her to drive 35 mins back to her house and for us not to talk for a few days.
And then the past month.
I drank so much over a few days that I was suicidal, so much so that my partner couldn’t get through to me, it turned mildly physical (from what she said, me grabbing her arm, which I’d never in my life done before), and ended up leaving my house and calling crisis, and because I was also making threats and am a gun owner, it generated a SWAT response in my neighborhood. Somehow SOMEHOW, I was never pulled out of my house and taken to get committed.
I stopped drinking entirely after that. Went through moderate alcohol withdrawal for three days. And then started drinking again after six days following a very mild disagreement with my partner that set off my anxiety. And, me being the idiot I am, didn’t realize that drinking would make it worse.
I managed to not drink liquor for roughly two weeks following that argument, but drank beer instead. Never really got drunk or even tipsy, but was still drinking. I was “cutting back.”
Then this past Monday, another bender lasting 48 hours. Back in the bourbon. Started by a mild argument that escalated, and quite frankly almost ended us due to a breach of trust (I was at fault). She needed to take a day to process and I got pissed and went out and bought $130 worth of bourbon and finished a 1.75 liter bottle of 101 proof bourbon in 24 hours. She came over, we fought, she left. She came back over, we fought, tried to leave and I physically wouldn’t let her, she left, she came back.
I ended up stopping, but not until I began having quite literally the worst pain, located in my lower abdomen, that I’ve ever experienced in my life. She forced me to go to the ER we both work at. I wasn’t acting drunk, but people, my coworkers knew. I wasn’t admitted because my abdominopelvic workup was negative. But at least now I understand why people get addicted to opiates. And after the truckload of IV Dilaudid (hydromorphone) I received, and the horrible constipation that has followed, I don’t ever want any of that shit again.
And now, today, I don’t ever want alcohol again.
I’m so tired of not remembering. Of having intimate moments with my partner and not remembering them. Of missing sunrises because I can’t get up before 2 pm. Of being fooled that I’m drinking to cure my anxiety and depression when, in fact, it makes it so much worse. I’m 35…I don’t want dementia when I’m 50 because I’ve damaged my brain so much. I’m tired of the person that alcohol makes me.
I had myself convinced for so long that I was a happy drunk, a fun drunk. And maybe I was in the past. But I was still an alcoholic. And while I may always be, I don’t have to be addicted to it anymore.
I have a long road ahead, and I hope to not fall down again. I realize I may, due to the stressors of life and parenthood and relationships and my job. But I can choose to not stop at the liquor store before I go in to work tonight so I can drink tomorrow morning after my ER shift. I can choose to not drink when my partner and I go out to eat Monday evening for our weekly Mexican food. I can choose each day to be sober.
And I’m gonna try.
—-If you read this entire post (long I know) I hope you realize the two things I’ve realized in my very brief period of not drinking:
That, one, alcoholism is such an insidious, sneaky evildoer that tricks you into believing you’re not guilty while also tricking you into using it to calm your depression and anxiety, even though it exacerbates them. It shifts the blame and convinces you that it isn’t the problem, much like a partner or employer might gaslight you.
And, two, that me telling my partner I’m an alcoholic and trying every day to stay clean, while only being in the second day has been simultaneously the most defeating and hopeful feeling I’ve felt in a very long time.
My second day. I hope for many more.

WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

I'm 25F, he's 26M dx adhd. I've known him for 7 years, and currently dating for 4 months. We met in person but we're currently long distance (different countries); we always said we'd date more seriously when I was done with college, so it was kinda on and off in the first few years. I sometimes feel like he's the same guy I met when he was 19...like he hasn't really matured.
Me personally, I'm looking for a partner who I can build a future with, I can't say I have my whole life put together, but I'm working on it, slowly step by step. But he just doesn't seem to have any idea of what to do with his life. He's changed his life plan at least 5 times in this past 3 months. He only considered going back into studying because I've been motivating him to do so...
He owns an appartment, a car, etc., like he's sorta financially stable, but he achieved that through a lifestyle that's not compatible with mine and it's also dangerous for him. I wouldn't want my kids to look up to that(If we were to ever have kids), that's why I asked him to look for other career options if he wants to continue the relationship. He agreed.
I honestly, just want stability from a partner. But I'm not sure if it will get better with him. He's always changing opinions or plans for his life and I'm confused. He wants me to move in with him but I don't know if I can trust his decisions. He doesn't even have a stable job yet, he works with his family but he says he's going to quit to do a trade job, which I'm also not sure if he really wants that.
My only concern here is, that I'm growing older, and I will possibly put my own career in pause to move in with him. He said he can help me get a job but like I said, I don't know if I can rely on him as a partnepotential husband. I feel like he's a little bit immature but maybe it's just me being anxious?
For example: we talk about me moving there and my concerns of putting my career on pause.
he is like "we'll get you a job don't worry!" but for me is more like "I'm moving in with you, but we have to sort things out first: how long do we gotta live togethere before I can legally work?, how do I acquire a work permit?, the common-law sponsorship?, we have to hire a lawyer to help us out, etc.". While I think of that, it didn't even cross his mind.
another example: someone will tell him to drink a medicine cause it'll help him grow muscles. what does he do? he will 100% drink it. what do I tell him? do your research first. are you sure that's healthy? I don't think you can drink that! ; what will he respond? he will just ignore me and face his own consequences and then come to me crying.
Basically, I feel like a mom. Help.