Hello seniors, I just finished with my jee advanced, expecting atleast a tier 2 government institute at the very least, I used to teach kids upto 10th grade for the better part of my 11th, 12th and 13th so i am halfway through with the ncerts from 6th to 10th, now coming to my question, i know the syllabus for UPSC-CSE is dynamic and almost infinite (i suppose) with the current affairs etc etc but I'd like to start with the static part of the syllabus from the first year of college itself along with reading newspapers, so can you guys please help me out here tell me exactly what I can do and what i can't while in college and what are the rookie errors that people usually make that i should watch out for?

When I was ten, I formed a junior detective squad.
Mom bought me the entire box set of What's New Scooby Doo, and I was inspired to start my very own detective gang. I held auditions outside the gymnasium at recess (serious enquiries only) after a number of kids tried to apply for the role of Scooby Doo despite me reiterating I was not interested in playing make believe.
When I was laughed at in class, I made posters strictly asking for SERIOUS wannabe detectives, even going as far as using my Mom’s printer to make flyers, sticking them all over the school.
Auditions were simple. I asked them to solve a simple riddle.
Whoever impressed me got to sign their name down, and I’d get back to them.
I spent three days sifting through kids who definitely had charm, but they lacked the intelligence of a junior detective. Most kids were only auditioning to make fun of me, anyway.
Still, though, I didn't give up.
My flyers had five requirements:
1). You had to be smart.
2). You were not allowed to be a scaredy cat.
3). You had to accept your inevitable death at the hands of our town’s evil villains.
4). You had to have a fully registered driving licence (I quickly changed this to a bike).
5). You cannot have a criminal record.
(I later scribbled this one out, writing over it. *“You cannot have any tardies.”
Narrowing the applicants down to three kids, all of whom failed to share my enthusiasm for solving cases. The kids I picked didn't even know how to make plans, and when I invited them to my house, they stole my Mom’s necklace.
I didn't even need to solve the mystery of who stole Mom’s necklace. The girl was wearing it at school. I punched her in the face, and was immediately sent to the principal’s office. When I was being given the mother all lectures, the door quietly opened, a head peeking through.
It was Ben Callows, a freckly kid with overgrown brown hair hanging in his eyes. Ben really needed a haircut.
He was always wearing the exact same baseball cap, and I found myself wondering if it was permanently glued to his head, stuck on top of unruly brown curls practically matted to his forehead.
In class, Ben was also known as Bloody Ben. In the second grade, the boy had a nosebleed in the middle of a spelling test, bleeding all over his paper.
It's not like he didn't try and detach himself from the name.
Ben brought in Digimon cards, so kids would call him Digimon Ben instead.
Then he “accidentally” spilled yoghurt down his shirt in hopes we would call him Yoghurt Ben. But no. The kids in our class were relentless in reminding him of his name. No matter what he did, he was still Bloody Ben, and when anything related to blood came up in class, fifteen pairs of eyes would swivel to him, like he had invented the concept of bleeding.
I feared the nickname would follow him to junior high.
Ben didn't wait to be let in. He didn't even knock, striding in with his arms folded. Over the years, Bloody Ben, had definitely soured his personality.
He smiled rarely, and when he did smile, someone was falling over or hurting themselves.
Which definitely strengthened the claims of him being a sociopath.
The rumor mill was churning, with the latest claiming Bloody Ben killed his cat. That wasn't true. Ben’s cat was seventeen with cancer, and that was why he was sobbing all the way through reading time.
According to Ellie Daly, however, Ben had killed and dissected his kitty, and buried her in his Mom’s flowers.
Now, my principal did not like being interrupted, especially when she was in the middle of screaming at me.
Principal Marrow was old old (like, thirty, in my ten year old mind) stick thin like a pencil, and always wore the same stained sweater.
She used to be pretty, but I was convinced she had kissed a frog and been cursed. After our old principal suffered a stroke, she stepped in as a temporary replacement, and since becoming principal, had banned my favorite book series, colored shoe laces, and hamburger helper, even officiating a uniform.
(vomit green shorts and a tee, and plain white sneakers).
Kids were convinced she was a witch, and I kind of believed it.
Principal Marrow’s whole existence was built on sucking the fun out of school.
I was already reprimanded for my mystery gang flyers.
Her office smelled of peppermint and she was definitely sneaking sips of whisky in her coffee cup. I could see the bottle sticking out of the trash.
She straightened up, folding her arms across her chest, squinty eyes narrowing at the boy. I had spent the whole time she was lecturing me trying not to cry, my fists bunched in my lap.
I took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to swipe at my eyes, allowing myself to breathe.
Ben Callows was her victim now.
I was right. The woman's voice was like a thunderclap in my ears.
“You better have a good reason for not knocking, young man.”
Ben wasn't fazed by her tone. “You took my Switch two weeks ago,” he said, “I want it back, or I’m telling my Mom.”
At first, I thought I'd misheard him.
No, I was pretty sure he'd threatened our principal.
I swore I heard all of the breath sucked from the room.
“I'm sorry,” Principal Marrow cleared her throat. Her soft tone was dangerous.
She wasn't being nice. The lady was about to explode.
I could see visible veins straining in her temples, her right eye twitching.
It was straight out of a cartoon.
“Did you forget something, Ben?”
Ben sighed, like she was inconveniencing him.
He held out his hand. “Please can I have my Switch back? It counts as stolen property. Give it back, or I'm telling my Mom.”
The kid put so much emphasis on the word please, I couldn't resist a smile.
I think our principal was too shocked to get angry.
“Get out.” She said, firmly. “I don't have your gaming device.”
“It's in your drawer.” Ben nodded to her desk, “Under your divorce papers and the restraining order ordered by Jake Willow, the seventeen year old boy you've been having math ‘tutoring sessions’ with.” He quoted the air, his gaze lazily rolling to me. “Tutoring”
Principal Marrow went deathly pale, her eyes darkening.
“Benjamin Callows–”
“The school already knows about the restraining order, but your uncle is the head of the Board of Education, so all you get is a slap on the wrist and a warning to leave the boy alone."
Ben continued, and I found myself mesmerised by his words. He was a natural, his expression stoic, mouth curved with satisfaction that wasn't quite a smile. “However.” He held up his phone, pulling it away at the exact moment the teacher attempted to grab it. “You were outside Jake Willow’s house at 6:12am, drunk, and trying to climb through his window, which, I think violates the restraining order, does it not?”
Ben pretended to think real hard, his gaze flicking to the ceiling.
“I mean, I'm just a kid, right?” His mouth curled into the hint of a smirk
“What do I know, huh?”
Principal Marrow’s expression twisted, her lip wobbling.
“Mr Callows, remove yourself from my office, or I am calling your father.”
Leaning comfortably against the door, Ben’s lip twitched.
“Why? Are you planning on telling my Dad about your relations with a teenage boy, or will I have to tell him instead?”
I was enthralled, and fully disgusted, making a move to inch away from the woman.
“But it doesn't end there.” Ben continued. He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards the woman's desk. “You don't even want Jake, do you? Because, once upon a time, you were in love with his father. Jason Willow. You despised him for rejecting you, so you decided to defile his son.” Ben leaned over the principal’s desk, slipping his hand into the drawer, and pulling out his switch.
Painfully slowly.
She stood there, speechless, her shoulders trembling.
Ben smiled, and I found myself liking it.
“Thank you!” He said, waving the console in her face. Ben mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.
“My lips are sealed.”
Ben’s half lidded eyes found mine. “Are ya coming, Panda?”
I forgot my own nickname.
Panda.
I wore my Mom’s eyeliner because I thought it looked cool.
It did not.
Finding my breath, I snapped out of it.
Jumping up, I followed him out of the office, and when the two of us were safely on the hallway, I burst into hysterical giggles. “How did you know all of that?!” I whisper- shrieked.
Ben surprised me with a splutter. “Wait. You believed me?”
Something very cold trickled down my spine.
I stopped walking. “You lied?”
He shrugged. “I had a dig around her office before she caught me a few days ago,” Ben swung his arms, a smile curling on his mouth. “There's no restraining order, but there is prescription anti-psychosis medicine, and an extremely detailed story on her laptop about a teachestudent romance, which I presume is a self insert.”
Ben shot me a sickly grin. “The school refused to make her condition public.”
He prodded at his own cotton shirt embroidered with the school emblem.
“Why do you think she's made all these dumb rules? The woman is a certified Looney Tune.”
I nodded slowly. “Wait. What about Jake and his dad?”
“I made them up.”
I choked out a laugh. “And… the video?”
Ben walked faster, pulling out his phone and shoving it in my face. The video was real. Principal Marrow was walking around in circles, draped in her nightgown. “It's her own house,” he explained. “She locked herself out.”
Nodding slowly, I was in awe. Bloody Ben was kind of fucking amazing.
“But the restraining order isn't real.”
Ben raised a brow, coming to an abrupt halt. It was his smile that cemented his place in my gang. His lack of empathy for a woman he had gaslit into being a disgusting human being. Ben Callows wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but he fascinated me. Maybe for the wrong reasons. “Her filing cabinets are filled with tinned cat food, Panda,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m not psychic, but I thiiiiink we’ll be okay.”
I turned to him, unable to stop myself jumping up and down with excitement.
“Will you be my first?!”
Ben inclined his head. “Will I be your what?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I mean, will you join my mystery gang?”
The boy’s eyes lit up, and I shoved him playfully.
“To solve real cases,” I corrected myself. “Not make them up.”
Ben wore a real, proper smile. But there was something in his eyes, a darkness that was so hollow and polluted and wrong, I pretended not to see it for the sake of his smarts and intellect. “Well, if you insist, sure!” Ben held out his hand, and I shook it. I'll be your first.”
We found our second member, who was, ironically, looking for her glasses under the table in class. Lucy Prescott, the quiet girl, was born to be with us.
The class eraser went missing, and she found it in the blink of an eye.
When questioned, Lucy’s face turned as red as her hair. “I asked everyone in the class and followed the clues to the last person who had it,” she pointed to Chase Simpson. “Which was Chase, who was throwing it at Marcus Calvin.”
Twisting around in my chair, I aimed to get Ben’s attention. But he was already looking at me, chin resting on his fist, eyes ignited with excitement.
The two of us cornered Lucy after class, and when she motioned for us to get back, I dragged Ben (who was a little too excited) to my side.
Lucy looked mildly horrified when I said, dangerous cases, though her expression pricked with intrigue.
She agreed, her gaze lingering on Ben, cheeks smouldering.
Our last two members were a surprise.
Violet Evergreen was what you would call popular on the middle school hierarchy. Not just because her mother was the mayor, but because Violet could get away with murder. The girl refused to wear the school uniform, coloring a single purple streak in her hair to cement herself as the it girl.
She was also one of the girls who started the Bloody Ben rumor.
Ben, Lucy, and I were sitting on the grass during recess, trying to come up with a name for our detective service, when Violet came storming over, hands planted on her hips. She was copying how her mother held herself during town meetings.
“What are you doing?” Violet demanded.
Lucy opened her mouth to answer, Ben nudging her to shut up.
“Making a mystery gang.” I told her. “Why?”
Violet inclined her head. “Oh.” She folded her arms. “Well, can I join?”
Ben stood up, stepping in front of the girl. Violet didn't move, stubbornly standing her ground. “Sure.” Ben flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He stepped closer to her, his smile widening. “If you can pass the test.”
Violet’s lip curled. She took a single step back. “What kind of test?”
Ben nodded to me. “Meet us at the swimming pool at 8pm.”
To my surprise, Violet nodded. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope!”
8pm. The four of us met outside the local swimming pool.
Violet was already on the other side of the fence, waving.
“Hey guys!”
I noticed Ben’s expression, his eyes darkening, lip curling.
Still though, he maintained positivity, vaulting over the fence.
“You made it!”
I followed him, helping Lucy, who was immediately freaking out. I didn't blame her. The pool looked cold and dark, a hollow oblivion carved into the ground.
Ben and Violet stood on the edge, the two of them shoulder to shoulder.
Violet Evergreen was braver than I thought.
Standing with her arms at her sides, Violet's hands clenched into fists.
“What's the test?” Violet said, her gaze glued to bleeding black depths.
“I don't know,” Ben murmured, his voice teetering on a giggle. He leaned forwards, arms spread out. “I didn't think you'd actually come meet us.”
Violet hummed, stretching out her leg, teasing it across the surface. “Was that the test?”
The boy leaned back. I caught the glint of a grin under the floodlights. “Nah.”
Before I knew what was happening, he shoved Violet into the pool. The girl didn't scream or shriek, she just hit the surface, sinking into pitch dark nothing.
“Sink or swim,” Ben said in a low murmur, when Violet’s head bobbed under water. I could see her shadow under the surface, imagining the freezing cold depths pulling her down.
“Drown, and you can't join us.”
It was so quiet, suddenly. The three of us staring into rippling water.
A minute passed, and my tummy started to twist.
“Fuck.” Ben’s expression stayed stoic. I wasn't expecting him to say a bad word.
He cocked his head. “I thought she could swim.”
I hit him, holding in a cry. “You need to get our parents!”
But he didn't listen to me, taking a single step, and dropping into the pool.
I fell to my knees, scanning the water.
Lucy was crying. “Are they dead?!” she shrieked.
“Shhh!” I was watching two shadows lingering under the water.
Violet broke through. I expected her to be crying, but her expression was unwavering. She was silent. I thought the splashing underneath her was her legs trying and struggling to tread water, before Lucy shoved me. Hard.
“Panda! What do we do?!”
Looking closer, Violet was perfectly still, her gaze on the sky.
While she shoved Ben under the water, drowning him.
Violet’s eyes sparkled, and somehow, I knew she belonged in my gang.
Her gaze found mine, glinting with that darkness, that poisonous streak I found myself drawn to. It was a starving, insatiable need to understand a fractured mind. Know your enemy.
“Do you want to see if Ben’s a witch?” Violet asked me, her tone something else entirely. This girl did not make sense, using barely her finger to drown Ben Callows. I knew she was wrong.
I knew there was something loose, something unlocked and unbridled and drowning inside her mind and heart.
But I wanted more of her. I wanted Violet Evergreen in my detective gang.
I think that is why I stood there, frozen.
When the thrashing stopped, Ben broke through.
He wasn't coughing or spluttering, his head inclined. “You didn't drown.”
Violet climbed out of the pool, offering her hand. “And you're not a witch.”
He declined her hand, taking the steps instead.
I asked Violet in a shaky voice. I was trembling with terror, but I was excited.
Exhilarated.
“Violet, will you join my gang?”
She didn't answer me until we were sharing hot cocoa in my house.
I told Mom we fell in the pool, and she believed me. I should have told her that my friends were sociopaths, and I was kind of maybe in love. Violet sipped her cocoa, nodding with a smile I didn't recognise. Violet never smiled at school.
Well, she did. But it was always the prick of a cruel smirk.
I don't think her smile was genuine, but she was definitely enjoying herself.
Our last member came to us, instead of finding him.
Jules Howell, a straggly brunette pushed his way in front of me in the lunch line. I didn't really know the kid.
He sat at the back of the classroom and slept through most of class. I did like his accent though.
Jules had moved from Melbourne in the second grade. He didn't talk much.
When he did, I found myself enveloped in his voice, which sounded like water to me, a bleeding cadence to his tone.
Jules piled his plate with fries, smiling widely at the lunch ladies.
“I saw you last night.” He murmured through that perfectly moulded grin.
“Saw me where?”
“At the pool,” Jules said. “You, Bloody Ben, Violet Evergreen, and that Lucy girl. You were doing a suiciding pact.”
“That's not what we were doing.” I said, “What's a suiciding pact?”
“When you kill yourself together.” Jules said. “I saw it in a scary movie my Mom was watching.”
I grabbed a fork. “We weren't doing that.”
His eyes were strange when I took the time to notice them. The excited gleam had fizzled out. Jules’s hands tightened around his tray. “Then what were you doing?”
I didn't reply, making my way over to our usual table. Ben was already waving me over, Violet and Lucy holding up the flyers we were making.
THE REDBLOOD DETECTIVES.”
Do YOU need our help? We can find/solve anything! Contact us on the number below. (We take donations!)
When I bothered turning around, Jules was lost in the crowd of kids.
We were on our first official case, searching for Mrs Lake’s missing mail, when Jules appeared seemingly out of nowhere. And with him, a golden retriever puppy he introduced as Arlo.
It took a dog jumping up at them for Violet and Ben to find their real smiles, their real selves slowly seeping through these facades they had built around themselves. Ben dropped to a crouch, ruffling the dog's ears, his smile faint.
“Who's a good boy?” He chuckled.
Arlo didn't move, tail wagging, eyes bright.
Ben motioned the dog towards him, but Arlo stayed put.
Jules joined us…quietly.
I don't remember asking him, or even him asking me.
He just became part of us, side by side with Arlo.
We soon came to quickly realize that our town was boring.
There were no monsters or thieves, or soul sucking demons. No criminals or serial killers. Not even one missing person. We did, however, get calls about missing cats. I turned eleven years old, patiently waiting for a murder or a kid going missing. But there was nothing.
All we did was chase cats, and the occasional dog. Maybe a budgie if we were lucky. Twelve years old, our detective club became a joke.
The five of us (and Arlo hiding under the table) were trying to pinpoint Mrs Tracy's lost hamster, when three girls came over, dumping their soda all over us.
We watched crime shows for inspiration on catching killers.
Ben’s favorite crime was one that happened in the 80’s in our town.
2 girls murdered.
Their intestines stuffed into envelopes and mailed to family members.
“That's what we should be solving,” he told me one night, “Not missing cats.”
Thirteen years old, we lay in Violet’s backyard under the cruel glare of the summer sun. We called it working and didn't like to admit it was hanging out, or that we were even friends. However.
That didn't stop us growing closer.
Even if it wasn't quite the way I’d expected.
I proposed a plan, standing up, wobbling a little off balance.
“I've got it.” I said, my voice kinda slurry from Violet’s special summer cocktail, which was just random alcoholic beverages we found, thrown into a blender, and diluted with water.
The town wasn't taking us seriously.
So, we were going to make our own mysteries.
I ordered a full-scale assault on our small town. One that they could not ignore. Ben stamped on Mrs Mason’s flowers, and Lucy threw mud pies at people's cars. Jules trashed the high school gym, and Violet and I spray painted threats and warnings on every store window. Now, this did cause panic, but also an official curfew.
Thirty minutes before curfew, we met in our usual spot, deep in the forest near the lake. Ben yelled at me when I was three minutes late. He was real passionate about finding a real mystery.
“You're late.” Ben was sitting on a rock waving a stick in Arlo’s face.
The dog still wasn't going near him, whining softly.
I took my place, muttering an apology. “I had to lie to my Mom.”
Violet, sitting with her legs crossed, idly digging her manicure into the dirt, suggested we buy mannequins and masquerade them as dead bodies, hanging them from the school rafters.
Lucy, who had slowly grown out of her shell, becoming a lot more outspoken, nudged her. “That's a stupid idea.”
The girl groaned, leaning into her. “Urgh. You're right.”
Jules was the only energetic one, standing on the tireswing.
He jumped down, definitely twisting his ankle.
But his smile only widened, kind of like he enjoyed being in pain.
“Why don't we pretend to be kidnapped?” He said, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over blondish curls growing out. Jules did a dramatic spin, his eyes shining. “We can ‘go missing’ for like a week, and then when our parents are really scared, we can turn up, and tell them we escaped a kidnapping.” His lips split into a grin.
“And then we solve our own kidnapping!”
Ben awkwardly patted Arlos head, only for the dog to pull away with a snort.
“I like it,” he murmured. “I'm in.”
Jules’s idea was stupid.
But.
It was worth a shot.
The five of us agreed to meet the morning after with enough food and supplies for a week. Then we were going to hike to the next town, and hide out for a week. It was an almost perfect plan, using ourselves as victims of our own mystery.
Packing as much as I could, I kissed my mother goodbye (I told her my pack was for a picnic) and set off to the rendezvous we agreed on.
When I arrived, I was the first one there. I checked and re-checked my pack.
I waited ten minutes, unable to contain my excitement.
Then 20 minutes.
It was getting kind of cold.
One hour.
I sat on a rock for enough time to watch the sky change color.
When the clouds were orange, I stood up and stumbled back home. They had gone without me. Mom lectured me when I got home, and I stuck to the plan of pretending my friends had gone missing, even if I they had betrayed me.
Ben said he'd text me when he arrived at the redervous. I at least expected him to text an explanation, but there was nothing. I was in the dark, and after three days of nothing, our town finally began to take us seriously.
“Our children have been kidnapped!” The adults were screaming.
Mom was crying in the kitchen, praying to a god I knew she didn't believe in that I wasn't taken next. I was interviewed and stuck with the exact same story I came up with when I was with the others. Our plan was to return after a week, claiming to be locked up in a dark room with a masked man.
I told my Mother and the other parents that I didn't know where my friends were, repeating the same thing over and over again until I was tongue tied.
“I saw them the day before they went missing, and… yes, everything seemed okay.” I slowly sipped my glass of milk provided, looking the sheriff directly in the eyes.
“No, I didn't notice anything suspicious, sheriff. Yes, I'm sure, sir. No, they didn't tell me anything.”
It was Ben’s mother who shattered my mask.
“Did I know about… what?” I whispered.
Something warm filled the back of my mouth, foul tasting milk erupting up my throat. I leaned forward, trying to look Mrs Callows in the eye. “No, I… I didn't know about Ben’s…condition.”
Mrs Callows was screaming at me about her son’s troubled past when I barfed all over myself, my eyes burning.
In the privacy of my own room, I sobbed until I couldn't breathe.
I tried to tell Mom, but we had come so close.
One more day, and the others would be back.
But that day came. I sat cross legged at our usual spot, which was now covered in police tape. I waited for their thudding footsteps, their laughter congratulating each other for coming up with a great plan. I waited, my face buried in my knees, for my friends.
It was dark when my phone vibrated, and I'd fallen asleep.
I wasn't scared, forcing myself to my feet.
“Where are you?” Mom yelled down the phone.
“Coming home now.” I muttered.
“Sorry.” I paused, holding my breath against a cry. “Mom.” I broke down, forcing my fist into my mouth to hide my squeak. “Mommy, did they come back?”
Mom didn't reply for a moment.
“I'm so sorry, baby.” She whispered, ending the call.
I took my time walking home that night.
There were no stars in the sky.
When a hand clamped over my mouth, I could smell him.
When he dragged me back, stabbing a kitchen knife into my throat, I stared at the sky and looked for stars. His arms were warm around me, violently pulling me into the back of a pickup truck. The pickup truck he'd said he was bringing.
It was his grandfather's, and he could just about drive it.
Hitting the backseat, my body was numb, my thoughts in a whirlwind.
The pickup flew forwards, and I remembered how to move.
I rolled off the seat, my hands pinned behind my back.
Twisting around, blinking in the dim, I could feel something warm, something seeping across upholstery seats. Blood.
It was everywhere, sticky on my hands and wet on my face when I struggled to get up. I was lying in someone's blood.
A scream clawed its way out of my throat.
The pickup flew over a pothole, and something dropped off the seat.
Arlo’s leash.
I screamed again, this time his name gritted between my teeth.
I didn't stop screaming until the jerking movement stopped. The doors opened, pale light hitting me in the face.
Flashlight. Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me from the car, and then, pulling me by my hair, into our old tree house. It was always our secret place, our saving grace on the edge of town.
The flickering candlelight caught me off guard, illuminating my surroundings.
Two bodies slumped over each other, lying in stemming red.
I felt suffocated, like I was going to die. I screamed, and that warm hand cradled my mouth again, gagging my cries.
Violet and Jules.
There was something wrong with them. And it was only when I forced myself to look closer, when I realized their insides had been carved out, heart, stomach, everything, pulled out.
There was paper on the floor.
No, not paper. Envelopes.
Envelopes stuffed with gore, bright red leaking through white.
Shuffling back, my brain was too slow to react, while my body was trying to vault to my feet, only to be violently pulled back by my ponytail.
I felt his fingers twining around my hair, revelling in my screams.
With another tug, my head was forced forwards.
Orange candlelight felt almost homely, this time lighting up a third body.
Lying on their back, curled up, pooling scarlet dried into the floorboards, their wrists restricted with duct-tape.
I could feel blood underneath me, sticky, a congealing paste.
“Do you know what happened on October 3rd, 1987, in our town?”
Lucy Prescott stood over me, her arms folded across her chest.
I managed to shake my head, when she grabbed Ben’s legs, dragging him under the candlelight. I dazedly watched her stroke the blade of a carving knife, the teeth already stained scarlet. “The intestine murders.” Lucy hummed, tracing the knife down the floorboards.
“A man murdered two high school girls, carving out their insides and sending their pieces to their loved ones.”
Lucy's eyes found mine, ignited in a familiar gleam. I saw it in Principal Marrow’s office. Then the swimming pool. The cafeteria. “It was the sheriff's only murder case, Panda. Ever since then, our town has been boring. There's no mysteries to solve. Nothing to find.”
The girl jumped to her feet, retrieving a blood stained envelope.
She held it up, a smile curved on her lips. The girl turned around, and I heard a horrific squelching sound. Lucy held up a bright red sausage, ripped into it, and slipped it into the white paper.
“But I can change that.” she said, in a giggle.
“I can create a real serial killer, who we can hunt down together.”
Lucy stabbed the blade into the floor, laughing.
“Or! I can bring a fan-favorite back! I can bring the intestine killer back from the dead!”
Her gaze flicked to the others. “There are casualties, of course. The story is, I was kidnapped with Ben, Violet, and Jules. The scary intestine killer killed them, and I managed to get away.”
Lucy shuffled over to me, her eyes wide. “Then! He came back and struck again!”
With those words, she shoved me onto my back.
“First he took Violet,” Lucy hummed, tracing the blade down my shirt.
“Then… Jules.” I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling at the restraints around my wrists. “Then Ben.” her breath tickled my cheek. “And finally… Panda.”
Lucy lifted the knife, and I accepted my death.
Until a low rumble in my ears.
Shouting.
Thundering footsteps, followed by the pitter-patter of paws.
“Lucy!” The sheriff was screaming, and the girl stumbled to her feet, the knife slipping from her fingers. Lucy stumbled, tripping over Ben’s body.
“He got away!” she shrieked. “He…he killed them! Oh, god, please help me!”
I don't think Lucy even realised the traces she'd left behind.
The blood slick on her fingers, her manic, grinning smile full of mania.
I was looking for stars when an officer crouched over me.
I couldn't understand what she was saying.
Her voice was white noise.
“Rachel? Hey, try and sit up, honey. You Mom is on her way.”
Instead of listening to her, I curled into myself.
My gaze found Arlo sticking his nose in Ben’s hair, trying to nudge the boy awake.
I didn't fully register the next few days.
They went by in a confusing blur.
Part of me tried to eat, and spent hours with my head pressed against the toilet seat.
I could still see the slithering, scarlet remains of my friends every time I closed my eyes. There was so much red, soaked in that hunting orange light.
Blood that I could still see, a starless sky that stretched on forever.
Weeks went by.
Then months.
I think I turned 14. I wasn't sure. I didn't feel alive anymore.
I stood at my friend’s funerals with a single rose I dropped into their casket.
Violet’s mother was quick to cover the whole thing up.
Lucy's plan didn't work after all.
Our town’s murder cases stayed stagnant at one.
It's been four years since my friends were murdered by our ’Velma’.
Now, at seventeen, Mom asked if I wanted to visit Lucy in juvie.
I'm not even upset or angry anymore.
I want to know why.
Ben picked me up. Arlo was at his side, wagging his tail.
Ben was…different. He'd dumped his baseball cap and gotten a haircut, swapping his old wardrobe of drab colors for an attempt at changing style.
That day, he looked awkward in a short sleeved tee and shorts.
At school, Ben is no longer Bloody Ben.
Now, he is Survivor Ben.
I’m still Panda.
Every time I was with him, I felt like my soul was being sucked out.
Guilt so deep, so fucking painful, I lost my breath.
I live knowing that I immediately assumed it was him that day.
Ben was barely alive when I found him. Lucy had started to carve into him before remembering she needed me.
After admitting it to him, his lips formed a small smile.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He said to me, at sixteen.
"Yeah?"
Whatever he was going to say, Ben never told me.
Presently, I nodded at the dog’s new collar.
“Peppa Pig themed?”
The boy shrugged, ruffling Arlo’s ears. “FYI, he chose it.”
“It's cute.” I said. “Very… chic.”
We didn't speak the whole ride, but Ben did entangle his hand in mine.
We spent half an hour outside the detention centre. I was panicking, and Ben was trying to hide that he was panicking. In the end, we joined hands, and strode through the doors together.
Lucy greeted us with a wide smile. Just as psychotic.
The orange jumpsuit suited her, though I had zero idea why.
“Hey Arlo!” she giggled at the dog, and Ben pulled the pup onto his lap.
“Ben.” She sighed. “I wish I got to finish you. I would have loved to solve the mystery of your gutted corpse.”
Ben’s smile was wry. “Nice to see you too.”
Behind a glass screen, I asked Lucy one simple question.
“Why?”
Lucy didn't reply. Or she did, but it was just nonsensical bullshit.
But there was one thing she said has stuck with me, chilling me to the core.
I am fucking terrified of Lucy. Of what's she's done, and what she's capable of doing.
It was a throwaway line, and I don't even think Ben noticed.
Or he did, and was in denial.
Lucy's smile was wide, her eyes empty pools of nothing.
The exact same glint in Ben’s eyes.
Jules’s eyes.
Violet’s eyes.
Like something was gnawing away at their psyche, twisting and contorting it, filling them with darkness, poison, that was so vast, so endless, I had craved it as a child. I still don't know what it is.
But I'm going to find it.
Lucy's laugh was shrill, and next to me, Ben didn't move a muscle.
But he did smile.
Yes, my gang were psychos.
But I kind of maybe loved it.
“I don't even wear glasses!”

Howdy good folks! My daughter who is just a year from graduating with a teaching degree to teach 6th grade had her car die and I gotta either help her fix it or get her another one that will last her a few years till she has a job (teacher, so maybe it needs to last her forever considering those salaries). Help a homie out.
I am hoping not to have to sell all this stuff, so when I reach my needed amount I will be closing this sale. BIN Early, BIN Often :P
I am not gonna give my password to anyone ever!! 2FA IS ENABLED!! I hope you all do the same.
PROOF & ALBUM - https://imgur.com/a/u2kwawh
I tried to make some interesting lots, if you see something in one of the lots, make me an offer and I may pull it from the lot.
Offers accepted on multiple items.
More pics available via chat. Just ask.
I have one trade offer for a 100oz Engelhard at the bottom of this post.
BIN it and Win it. First to BIN gets it. Otherwise I decide the order in which I respond to chats.
/--------------------------
GOLD
1x - 1oz 1988 Gold Panda in Capsule - https://imgur.com/aWrOeyo - https://imgur.com/kv6Xxiy - $2375
1x - MASSIVE 6.33g Gold Nugget from Oregon - This is beautifully wrapped around quartz and would make an amazing pendent - https://imgur.com/BRIYOjM (more pics in the proof album) - $450
1x - 1/10 gold 2022 Perth Kangaroo - https://imgur.com/ke6TMlX - $260
1x - 1/10 gold 2023 Perth Lunar Rabbit - https://imgur.com/vEkcIxW - $275
1x - 1/10 gold 2022 Perth Lunar Tiger - https://imgur.com/vEkcIxW - $285
3x - 1/10 gold Canadian Maple Leaf, 1999, 2021, 2022 - https://imgur.com/I1LjkxI - $260 each
1x - 1/10 gold 2018 Canadian Polar Bear - https://imgur.com/I1LjkxI - $265
1x - 1/10 gold 2023 Brittania, Chuck-e-cheese obverse - https://imgur.com/I1LjkxI - $260
2x - 1/10 gold China Panda, 1988, 2014 - https://imgur.com/fa6Oy0c - https://imgur.com/QWYwz9T - $265 each
1x - 3g gold China Panda 2023 - https://imgur.com/fa6Oy0c - https://imgur.com/QWYwz9T - $265
3x - 1g gold Geiger, factory sealed in plastic assay - https://imgur.com/53e8s07 - $95 each
/--------------------------
SILVER HAND POUR LOT
https://imgur.com/1E91XBg
10.44 ozt of silver hand pours from various makers, they range in size from 10g to 127g and are all pretty spiffy - $330
If you are interested in this lot, I will send pics via chat. THe attached pic has a 100g loaf not included in this lot, but is for sale.
/--------------------------
SILVER LOCAL ARTIST HAND POURED ART
1x - GlassPanther Bender Statue with base (2+ oz) - https://imgur.com/m8QjhQb - $75
1x - GlassPanther 2oz Anvil - https://imgur.com/JdWnpsp - $75
1x - GlassPanther Shut UP and Take My Money Pocket Piece - https://imgur.com/rluPhS9 - https://imgur.com/Lr8n2sH - $40
1x - Lot of two YourMailmanSays lego Star Wars pours (1.25oz total) - https://imgur.com/TxVe4un -$60
1x - YourMailmanSays hand poured Mail Truck (just under an oz) - https://imgur.com/u9LQX43 - $50
1x - 3oz Monarch Skull Pour - https://imgur.com/j4Qivh8 - $99
1x - 3.52oz Crazy Train Bullion Kit-Kat, amazing piece - https://imgur.com/4ze6Li2 - https://imgur.com/6ss9qzP - $175
1x - 5oz Barbarian Bar, neat art, not sure who artist is - https://imgur.com/41T4a3O - $175
/--------------------------
10oz PERTH MINT ROUNDS
1x - 10oz 2014 Kookaburra in Original Factory Capsule - https://imgur.com/RW3UkDB - $380
1x - 10oz 2015 Kookaburra in Original Factory Capsule - https://imgur.com/QKv2TKZ - $380
1x - 10oz 2018 Kookaburra in Original Factory Capsule - https://imgur.com/wXqfBm5 - $380
1x - 10oz 2015 Lunar Goat in Original Factory Capsule - https://imgur.com/notQ4S6 - $380
1x - 10oz 2016 Lunar Monkey in Original Factory Capsule - https://imgur.com/s4AyIXt - $380
BIN ALL 10oz PERTH (50oz total) FOR $1800
/--------------------------
VINTAGE SILVER
1x - 7.5oz (8 bars) Lot, neat stuff from 1970s, Babe Ruth, Einstein, MLK JR, South East Refining, Stage Coach Silver divisible bar, Labor Day 1973, Fathers Day 1973, Liberty Dog Tag - https://imgur.com/3ly0ZE8 - https://imgur.com/qcP66dd - $250 for all
1x - WH Foster 1968 Sunshine Mining 3oz Bar #638 - https://imgur.com/W0MTdax - https://imgur.com/a5EnV94 - $175 (comps reached $499)
1x - WH Foster 1968 Consolidate Silver 3oz Bar #638 - https://imgur.com/W0MTdax - https://imgur.com/a5EnV94 - $150
1x - Sheet of 8 Factory Sealed 1oz Stagecoach Silver Divisible (into 1/4) Bars - https://imgur.com/QoDvz7M - https://imgur.com/klcDFm1 - $295
1x - 5oz Johnson Matthey Bar #040211, still in factory package - https://imgur.com/xts3LXJ - $190
/--------------------------
LUNAR SKULL SILVER ROUNDS
https://imgur.com/drjZiTt
https://imgur.com/YPjwHnQ
The Lunar Skulls below are very low mintage and have absolutely stupid comp prices (mine are about half price). The proof coins are limited to 500 and the burnished are limited to 2000. Amazingly cool artwork and if you collect the lunar series stuff, you will love this really cool twist on the subject.
Any blemishes are on the capsules, the coins are very BU. Happy to send more pics if needed.
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $55
1x - 2017 Year of the Rooster Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Gabonaise - $55
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $55
1x - 2016 Year of the Monkey Skull Burnished 1oz - from Republic of Palau - $55
1x - 2015 Year of the Goat Skull Proof 1oz - from Republic of Ghana - $55
BIN ALL 5 Lunar Skulls for $250
/--------------------------
OTHER SILVER
1x - 100g Doduco Feinsilber Loaf - $110
1x - Silver 2023 Beskar Bar, some toning - https://imgur.com/rAEtvDA - $39
KINESIS MINT LOT - 2x 100g Justice bars, 8x 1oz Justice Bars, 5oz Silverback Bar. All still sealed in factory packaging and all serialized (19.43 ozt total) - https://imgur.com/6fTsjSI - https://imgur.com/7WGtkVQ - $650
Samoa/Scottsdale Mint 2024 Dragon Round Lot - 5x 1oz dragon on factory sealed strip & 5x 1/2oz dragon on factory sealed strip (7 1/2 total oz) discounted from Scottsdale Mint's prices - https://imgur.com/PhaD2Hk - $230
1x - Generic (but pretty cool stuff) Lot all in Air-tites, 20x 1oz rounds - https://imgur.com/S2Zu9RK - https://imgur.com/6WFetII - $625
1x - Odd sized Canadian, Aussie, and British Mint lot (21 total OZ) - $725 * This lot includes - https://imgur.com/4vQLfh5 - https://imgur.com/6yhBu3W * 5x Canadian Wildlife 1 1/2 oz coins, no capsules would fit them * 2x Perth 2oz Rounds in capsules * 3x 2oz Queens Beast Rounds in capsules * 1x 2oz Canadian Kraken in Capsule
/--------------------------
100 OZ ENGELHARD FOR TRADE ONLY
https://imgur.com/nTuqOpK - https://imgur.com/DFafrLw - https://imgur.com/tMYbMQp
I have a 100oz ENGELHARD BAR in Original package that I would trade for:
93 ASE (If you have 5 tubes I would work out difference with you to keep them full if you like).
OR
95-100 OZ of miscellaneous other silver, show me what you have and we can decide what is fair. If plain generic, then 100 to 100.
We each cover our own shipping. I would use Priority Mail and add signature confirmation.
/--------------------------
PAYMENT - Zelle or Venmo (NO NOTES), Paypal F&F, fiat cash, checks, money orders. Checks and Money orders need to fully clear first before I ship anything.
SHIPPING - $5-9. Insurance at your request, charged at cost. I pack and ship like I like to receive it. Nicely secured, padded, and no jingling. I hand deliver to post office for scanning and will provide tracking.
RESPONSIBILITY - It ends when the package shows delivered in tracking. If you have a problem with porch pirates I recommend signature confirmation, which I can provide at cost. All items verified on a Sigma at my LCS. I stand behind what I sell 100%.
SECURITY - All my proof pictures will contain my ZENPATHFINDER silver round name badge that u/UnresolvedEgo made. I love it. You should consider a name badge of your own if you sell. I am no dummy and any "mod" that says I am banned and they need my password to see my chats gets a nice teabagging pic and is reported. I will always use my custom name tag to provide proof via chat, just ask. I have 2FA on my account.

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 247: Subjective Mercy
Dawn was a novelty to Renise.
Not because she was a late riser. On the contrary, she readily woke up before even the alley cats of Reitzlake. And they were nothing if not prompt in securing their territory.
It’s just that any dawn was hard to admire while she was crawling beneath the streets.
That’s not to say she didn’t get to see anything just as glamorous, though. In the sewers beneath the cracked cobblestone of Pennyvale Road and Sipton Corner, she often saw enough stolen gold tucked away to form a sight brighter than any morning.
And once, she even found a die with 20 sides. She thought that was very interesting.
Thus, even as the sun peeked across the horizon, Renise barely paid any attention. Especially as doing so would remind her of exactly how many hours it’d been since she last slept.
But she had no right to complain.
After all–
“Hoooph!”
The guards requisitioned to her service couldn’t.
Even now, their eyes were as wide as when she’d brought them here. And not all of it from shame that a large smuggling operation had taken place upon their doorstep.
They wiped sweat from their brows as they hauled the proceeds of crime from the depths of tunnels, the corners of barns and the hidden hatches found between them. All the while, Renise was there to assist, searching each nook and cranny to ensure that every mug rimmed with cobwebs and filled with pilfered gemstones was recovered.
The result was a sight grander than the pale light stretching across the horizon. A veritable mountain of recovered goods, stacked in semi-organised fashion in the centre of the farmstead.
No fields of wheat grew as of yet. But that didn’t mean there was no golden gleam.
The chests of crowns in Baroness Arisa’s chamber was the mainstay of the haul. A cursory examination placed the amount grand enough to purchase half a castle outright. But Renise knew it wasn’t a castle the baroness had wanted. It was a kingdom–and more.
That’s what the rest of the goods were for.
Sacks and crates unending. Enough grain and foodstuffs to last many winters and more. Had she wished to, the baroness could have sheltered in her hole and sat through whatever calamity she’d wished to trigger. Or she could have used it in lieu of gold when stomachs were empty and hearts were hard, to feed crowds of rioting commoners or the loyalty of wavering soldiers.
A scheme as audacious as it was unlikely. And thus very much devised by nobility.
Renise understood that well.
Just as she understood that nobility rarely allowed themselves to dream of an empire without guarantees in place. And she intended on querying what they were, and who had offered them.
Turning from the mound of gathered items, she made her way over to the girl huddling beside the steps of her stolen and dilapidated manor.
With her knees up, arms wrapped around them and face buried in said arms for good measure, Baroness Arisa Sandholt was less a noblewoman fallen at the final hurdle of a grand scheme and more a girl who had not been told ‘no’ enough times to understand the consequences of her actions.
And there would be many. More than her hands could hope to manage.
After all–
Renise had read Juliette’s judgement.
The former noblewoman approached the girl under guard. She nodded at the tired watchers. And when they left to join their colleagues in taxing their shoulders, she knelt down to look at the kingdom’s most recent shadow of Lady Lucina Tolent.
And what a poor one it was.
Still, Renise grimaced on the baroness’s behalf.
Despite recent events, she held little personal acrimony towards her. Neither smuggling nor treason were new concepts, after all. The scale was grander than what remained of the plots in the royal capital. But this simply meant more bureaucracy. Renise would live. And so would the baroness, should she not recklessly throw away what the princess’s mercy was willing to offer.
Mercy, of course, being subjective.
Still kneeling beside her, Renise attempted to peer past the buried face, almost akin to a teacher with a sulking child.
Then, she sighed.
“Baroness Arisa Sandholt. It is demeaning for you to remain like this. If nothing else, I invite you to sit upon the steps. There’s no need to dirty yourself upon the soil. Particularly as it’ll be some time before we’re finished here.”
Renise waited for an acknowledgement. Or more preferably a finger pointing out the hidden corners she’d doubtless missed.
She received nothing. And so she resigned herself to however many nights it’d require to fully empty out the tunnels.
This, also, was nothing new to her.
“... Uuuuh …”
All of a sudden, a weak, pitiable groan came from the baroness, still unseen behind her knees.
Renise wasn’t certain what to do other than hope for a follow-up. When it didn’t arrive, she instead brushed down her maid’s uniform of any dirt, before promptly undoing it by taking a seat beside the baroness, knees up and thoroughly uncomfortable.
“I notice the grounds are quite extensive,” she said lightly. “An impressive thing you’ve built, for one whose family lineage is pouring ales. May I ask how the career change to smuggling came about?”
No sound met her, other than the huffing of the beleaguered guards as they toiled like farmers beneath the sun.
Renise leaned in to pluck a leaf from the baroness’s hair.
She responded by slowly falling onto her side, still with her face buried around her legs. A perfect imitation of a shrivelled up caterpillar. Renise had a feeling the princess would have commented. She herself kindly chose not to.
For now.
“... Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh …”
Again, a weak groan of despair filled the crisp air alight with the early dawn.
Again, Renise wasn’t sure what the correct response was.
She’d known many members of the nobility to have fallen while clutching themselves in agony, most often after being rejected to a dance. And yet as emotionally damaging as those instances were, they paled in comparison to the distress of having her private gallery revealed to the same princess her portraits consisted of.
But it could have been worse.
She wasn’t sure how. But it could have been.
“Baroness Arisa,” said Renise, attempting to speak with a slightly more scolding tone. “This is far too belittling. Until you have been formally stripped of your title, you are still a member of this kingdom’s nobility–whether or not you wish it. You do yourself little favours by remaining as you are.”
At last, the baroness lifted her face away from her knees. She didn’t raise herself from the ground.
Puffy eyes unused to the unyielding dawn met her. And also cheeks still blotchy with humiliation. And then lips quivering with the strength required to form words.
“... My life is over,” she said, her voice strangled with grief.
“You do not know that, Baroness Arisa.”
The girl shook her head, golden hair flailing upon the dirt.
“My life is over,” she merely repeated, her eyes becoming distant and hollow. “The princess … she saw … all my portraits … it’s all over …”
Renise watched as what dignity remained slowly drained before her.
She decided to put a stop to it before she became a withered slug.
After all, the princess in question still had uses for her.
“Your life isn’t yours to judge,” she said, standing up before the baroness. “But it is the 3rd Princess’s. Would you care to know it?”
Renise unfurled a letter from the pockets only her uniform defied impracticality enough to possess.
The baroness uncurled herself slightly, the better to see the back of the letter. Even so, she made no effort to reach for it.
With a sigh, Renise looked over the neatly written edict and began to read.
To Baroness (Insert Name) Arisa Sandholt,
I would like to extend my gratitude for the paintings donated as badly needed furnishing for Soap Island and its inhabitants. This act of charity has not gone unnoticed.
In order to further develop your talents with a brush, I hereby command that you take up position as artist-in-residence upon Soap Island, where you shall have the freedom of its golden beaches, open air, and time enough to paint to your heart’s desire. As long as the paintings are of me.
Upon creation of a work I judge to be satisfactory, I shall deem your rehabilitation complete.
Please note this is an unpaid residency.
Princess Juliette Contzen.
Renise had filled in the bit with the missing name.
For a moment, she did nothing but wait for the baroness’s response. It was slow to come. But when it did, it was with both hands raised to her mouth, unable to hide the despair which came from it.
Indeed, it was a sentence which offered little hope of release.
The stipulation of release was both poetic and severe. For the only way the baroness could ever hope to create a sufficient painting was to first remove her pride and her malice. To be commanded to do what she previously did in twisted animosity would surely result in nothing but empty canvases from this moment on, such was the egoism of nobility.
But there was more to this than meets the eye.
Indeed … Renise had no doubt about the princess’s intentions.
The stipulation for a work to be judged as satisfactory was merely a ruse. The day the baroness realised the error of her ways and painted a single portrait, Renise had no doubt it would be accepted as proof of her atonement.
Such subtlety, doubtless woven from all her days at the royal court … Renise could only acknowledge it with envy–as could the baroness, who only now slowly sat up upon the dirt.
Except there was one problem.
“The princess … wishes for me to paint her?”
Her voice came out as barely a squeak, still covered by her hands, and yet those grey eyes were as wide as the very sun now cresting the horizon.
“She does, yes,” answered Renise, hearing the caution in her own voice.
A moment of silence passed between them.
The baroness reached up for the letter. Renise offered it, then waited as the girl’s eyes ran across the words, barely pausing at the scribbled amendment to her name at the top.
“The princess … she extends her gratitude for what I have painted.”
“So she does.”
“She wishes for them to be used as decoration.”
Renise slowly nodded.
In truth, she was still extremely unsure about the entire matter of what … Soap Island was. But the princess had been insistent that the existing paintings be sent there.
“That is correct … yes.”
Renise said nothing more.
Ordinarily, she would be wishing the girl a heartfelt plea to understand the mercy shown to her. And to hope that in time, she would come to understand the folly of her pride. Particularly as the baroness’s hands began to shake, crumpling the letter.
Ordinarily.
Because those hands were not shaking with clear resentment.
“This letter … is for me.”
Renise pursed her lips.
“Yes, it is.”
“I … I thought she would exile me … or merely forget again I existed the moment her back was turned.”
“Your crimes are not so little that she could allow you to be.”
“Indeed … she acknowledges me. My talents. She … She wishes for an even finer portrait.”
A moment later–
The baroness brought the letter close to her … and tightly held it against chest as her lips quivered into a zany smile. The puffiness upon her cheeks vanished, replaced only with a shine as radiant as the sun.
And then, her eyes grew hazy as she stared into the distance at the back of one who had long since left.
Yes.
The princess had made a grave error.
This baroness … would not hesitate to paint more of her.
She would not hesitate to paint until she’d created a portrait so fine that it could match the Plafond De Dix Mille Cygnes painted upon the vestibule of the Reitzlake Cathedral. Renise knew this with as much certainty in her heart as the effort it would take to forget this conversation ever occurred.
But she could not do so yet.
Not while she still had questions to ask. And none regarding the preoccupation with the princess.
The baroness had not acted alone. There were those who helped to pry open both her purse strings and her mind to this misadventure.
Renise expected few helpful answers.
The baroness may have dreamt of an empire. But she was a pawn upon a board where another was already lined to take her place. And those who played at intrigue and lived beyond a night were not known for idle gossip.
A trying task.
Although Rose House was named in opposition to the lotuses from the east, she knew full well that she possessed no thorn which could hope to prick the shadows so heavy that they stifled all who sought to grow against them.
Until now, that is.
Renise would not allow the princess’s charity to go to waste.
There was much she had to do before the two paramount smugglers of the kingdom could be offered a stay of execution. A conversation with the Crown Prince being one of them. But it would involve no pleading tears. Only words as cold as the iron her parents were currently shackled to.
But first things first.
She could not return while any tasks lay unfinished. That would be an indictment against all of them.
“Ahem … Baroness Arisa, I’ve matters of importance to discuss with you before you are sent to perform the princess’s wishes. And should you desire her added gratitude, you would do well to answer them.”
The baroness ceased hugging her letter. Broken from her temporary stupor, the smile slowly faded from her lips as she looked up.
And then continued to look up.
Because as the light cresting Renise’s shoulders became cold, and the joy of spring which played upon the ends of her hair faded and died, all which could be seen of the baroness was her faraway eyes as she stared tellingly at the dimming horizon.
In that moment, whatever questions Renise had were all shortly replaced by a single one.
“… Why is it suddenly so dark?”
She turned around.
And then she paled … as she witnessed the dawn being ushered from the sky.
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I've been actively trying to listen in and study what's going on inside, and three services in a row, no kidding, I noticed how the preacher cut off his own part of the service by asking if the members were still awake before finishing off the lecture.
They also like this phrase, "naglalayag ang isipan" (the mind is sailing), for some reason.
This makes me wonder if this is a regular occurrence in all locales nationwide, or if this particular preacher just really hates people dozing off on his lectures. I also noticed how he asks members to be patient especially when reading long passages, and even counting down how many passages are left before he ends the lecture, hinting in his tone that he wants to get over the service himself.
These are just some of the unprofessional things I notice them doing, and I don't know what they're trying to achieve by doing these. I'd like to hear some of your unbiased observations for any similar experiences.

Memory Transcription Subject: Talyn, Extermination Guild Paramedic, Sivkit Grand Herd.
First/Previous/Next
I… I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out why a demon would go behind her superiors for some prey.
Variah hasn’t stopped visiting this cage… t-though, I try to limit exchanging words with the beast as her proximity gnaws at my nerves to no end. Her moving maw leaves an unobstructed view at a row of endless pointed teeth that could easily crush through Sivkit bones, if at any moment she deemed that her desire. However, after all this time… she hadn't mauled me yet.
Nor did any of the other, more openly wicked beasts let their instincts get the better of them either, so I suspect that these demons can reign in their bloodlust better than the Arxur can, a-at least for practical reasons, but I don't exactly want to put that to a test. D-Damnit, why is she doing this? It’s difficult to keep my mind off it when everything else was a failure.
I… I’ve been trying to find a way to break free ever since the predator keeping me company gave her warning about the rest of her kind. N-not that I needed any monster to clue me in on their malicious intent or more prompting to look for a way out of here, but so far, any avenue to escape seems completely futile, at least… f-for now. Can’t give up.
J-Just remember your training… t-though it’s not exactly useful here.
Most of my guild practice had me safely locked within a medical wagon, waiting around on standby in case a front line exterminator suffered a mauling. I- I don’t have enough personal experience with this sort of thing to keep myself level headed, t-to know what to do, b-but… but I’ve heard stories from my… f-from my now ex-colleagues, about retrieving escaped convicts back for treatment.
I- I could take a few pages out of their play book, copy how they got out of their facilities and avoid falling for the same pitfalls that got them found. E-Even if doing so would be more than unorthodox, but… I c-can’t just sit around forever.
Even if for now all I can do is watch out for opportunities, think and plan.
Occasionally, the scientists lead me out of this box to conduct new experiments. I was hoping to find something useful when taken from these confines but I'm always trailed by those towering guards who never take their vicious eyes off me, or let me step out of line… or even let the scientists come too close when not instructed to. The director's men, as I've heard the so-called doctors call them while whispering amongst themselves; e-evidently also afraid of the beastly soldiers.
T-There are cameras everywhere, in every hallway and almost in every room. The few that don’t have them always have a beast there present with me, rarely taking an eye off me, so I can’t bet on finding a blindspot outside this room.
Main doors are locked with codes and keycards, but that doesn't matter much because if I managed to get my paws on a set I'd need to carry around a damned stool to reach a security pad while standing on my hind toes because of these giant freaks. Not even knowing where any door leads since I can't read their scratchy script.
Worse yet, from what I could tell while eavesdropping…
This facility is built at least several levels underground, and it’s located near the outskirts of a m-major predator population center. Meaning that any exits going “topside” had to be intentionally dug out by design, and almost definitely surveyed by guards and cameras.
Only to be surrounded by a countless horde of sapient predators once I got out, a-and… given that I’m at the edge of a monster city and how untamed my crash area appeared, the zone marked for emergency landing for all falling vessels, I… I must have been taken far from any other Sivkit survivors on this planet.
C-Constantly watched, locked and isolated. E-Everything, everything is stacked up against me… D-Damnit, j-just, just move forward, k-keep thinking… I-Ironically, my best bet for escape might be in this very room.
A ventilation duct right behind the bed, t-the only one I could reach with pipes that look wide enough to squeeze into if I managed to get the grate off, c-climb up, if that’s p-possible, u- until I feel fresh air.
The glass screen is positioned on the other side of the bed, with the grate being obscured further by the counter at the bedside and I’ve noticed that the cameras start moving back and forth at night, or at least, when the lights shut off, possibly going into an automated mode when the beasts stop watching the cell… t- the demons have to sleep too at some point I suppose, n-no better time to try.
Every couple of minutes as the cameras move, the lenses line up away from the bed for a few seconds at a time, granting me one consistent blindspot where I could fiddle with the screws if I kept my paw hanging off the bed when pretending to sleep.
But the damned grate is bolted in too tight.
I tried using my claws as an improvised screwdriver, wedging them into the divots and twisting… but those attempts only cost me a few nails with nothing to show for it. So if I had kept it up eventually the predators could notice that all my claws were suddenly wearing away. The demons would scour every surface for the cause, not something I can risk if I want to hold onto the only possible escape route I could find.
I just need something metal… something that wasn’t initially in shortage before I figured out the truth and tried to defend myself, i-if only I managed to maintain a cooler head back than… D-damnit, still at square zero, f-for now, I- I just need to bide my time… h-however long I might have.
T-The predator scientists seem to be conducting more and more redundant tests now, w-with some beginning to whisper about getting started on more t-thorough research, especially when they think I’m out of ear shot. I… I might not have long left before they just decide to dissect me.
“You hanging in there, Talyn?” A long dull claw poked my cheek, sending sharp shivers through my core.
It jolted me back to reality and forced me to regain awareness of the silver predator looming by the bedside, w-whose presence slipped my mind after a-somehow allowing my guard down around her.
“Heh, doesn’t really look like you’ve taken a liking to the book… you’ve been staring at the wall for a while now.” Variah’s voice almost sounded dejected, her head pointed down at the bizarre novel while flipping through its yellowed pages in an apathetic manner.
All I could do was lay behind the covers, grasping onto them as if they could shield me if the demon had a shift in whims, poking my head out while unable to look away as fur all along my back raised with pins and needles shooting through my skin.
An uncomfortable silence swept the room when Variah's horrid eyes began staring down at me, t-though… t-they almost looked tired and unmotivated, like they were begging for something?
“Ah-I… I spaced out for a minute, ah- I’m s-sorry.” The predator raised a single ear at me, s-surprised that I actually answered her this time, and I… I'm not s-sure why I did it either.
Her ears perked up a little, while I briefly flinched away as she opened up her maw, but quickly found that she only did so to speak again. “You don’t have to apologize, I… I can stop reading if you don’t want to hear it?”
The question actually paused me for a minute, a part of me couldn’t stand having to bare a predator’s presence constantly while hearing her voice narrating some damned book that doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense, but I… partly hating myself for it, but I p-prefer hearing Variah’s voice over the quiet, e-even if it's wrong to be listening to a predator. “Y-you… you can c-contiunue… p-please.”
Variah huffed to herself, keeping her ears pinned back in an awkward manner while lingering a strange, unnerving gaze on me for an uncomfortable minute, before turning back to the book and raising her ears up a little. “Alright, alright… I’ll just start over with the chapter.”
“O-Okay…” I muttered, but it made no difference either way. It’s not like I was even able to listen fully while all those things are constantly prowling around me, my instincts getting the better of me… or, with every clashing thought swirling around my mind. About what happened, about what they are?
B-But I got bits and pieces here and there, just enough to roughly know what’s going on. It detracts from everything dire, but I… I can allow myself this one distraction from this place. Even if willingly indulging in some predator’s work just makes my core feel vile. Though, from what I’ve followed, it… it feels like listening to a lie, n-not like the type of fantasy a predator should either read or write about, but that thing looks far too old to be a forgery for my sake.
“For two years their engines roared, two years of steady descent as long white trails of plasma were cast forth into the inky void, decelerating the wanderer on their journey before the antimatter drives were cut and the great vessel came to a halt on its final destination, after centuries, settling into orbit around Aldiel star.
Awe and wonder resonated from the crew, the voyage was long, with countless wonders and detours on their journey through the Galaxy, but it has been twelve-hundred years since the 1st generation set them on this path, twelve-hundred years so that the 48th could bask in the light of the star that guided their ancestors since the days of wind and sails.
And, since it’s mysterious call beckoned them into the stars…”
Variah’s voice filled the room with considerable mirth in her tone despite her prior hints at treachery… doing a far too convincing job at masking that her prior warning ever happened. Though I- I might be going crazy… but there’s almost an air of stress o-or sadness behind her horrid eyes.
S-Somehow, I… I’m not sure what to think about that predator.
She doesn't fit in with the rest of the beasts roaming around this facility, and for a second… You could almost forget that she's a natural hunter, that the being sitting by my side didn’t evolve to kill and gorge on flesh like the rest of them because those facts clash against the image painted right before my eyes.
The same frightening figure doing something as innocuous as reading through a novel by my bedside, as- as if I was some lost child cooped up in a Zurulian nursery.
However, the beast herself went through apparent lengths to reaffirm my sense of danger here while displaying a clear aptitude towards deception, lying even to her own kind… i-it seems foolish to doubt their nature now.
Y-Yet… seeing her yapping about some fiction novel with such glee, I… I can’t exactly see a monster cut from the same cloth as the Arxur. No Grey in existence would ever try to help prey, nor would they ever produce a novel, much less the contents in this one.
P-Predator explorers traveling across the stars in so-called generation ships, i-it’s… r-rather dumb, honestly. The idea of anyone being crazy enough to cross the void without FTL is ridiculous, though, p-predators fantasizing about it is certainly terrifying. I-imagining what lengths they could go to breach their system… I should be happy that the primitive hunters apparently deluded themselves into believing that super luminal speeds are impossible… at least, until we came along, a-and broke that notion for them.
W-when Variah said the book was a story about their vision for space travel I thought I’d be faced with an early glimpse into the nightmarish future we just created. A ravenous horde of canide demons unleashed to murder their way across the stars, if they got their claws on our FTL tech. Bombing worlds, enslaving cultures and spilling blood before tearing into sapient flesh. Y-Yet, that wasn’t in the pages… t-the opposite was.
Wanderers going from system to system, discovering new life, new wonders, new people… and embracing them with open arms instead of clenching teeth, even if by their own perception that life seemed incomprehensible or monstrous… i- initially, at least.
I… I don’t know.
The predators must have been under the delusion that most sapient life would be just as flesh craving as they are before I spilled the truth, with only a few chapters depicting contact with herbivore species, this being portrayed as some unique encounters, a-and… p-peaceful, n-no hunting, no war. W-Why?
Comparably, there were just as little chapters depicting conflict altogether, n-nothing that would delve into their true nature, a-at least… n-not what their nature s-should be.
It's d-difficult to reconcile everything I’ve heard with what we know about predatory minds, with the confessed threat lurking within this facility, though I can’t exactly ignore it either… I-It doesn’t seem like hunger alone drives these monsters, not like the Greys… t-then what does?
T-There… There was a moment where I almost wanted to just ask, t-though I stopped myself before I could do something that stupid. D-Damnit… What am I even doing listening to that damned thing?
Those weren’t the only things that stuck out while listening, more peculiar passages here and there… from what I can tell these beasts hold a strong aversion towards foreign diseases.
With characters being weary of exposing themselves to alien atmospheres before developing cures and vaccines, or trying to prevent their own predator sicknesses from spreading onto other worlds. It explains the suits from earlier, and why some of the predators wear them even now, but not so much the reason for the alarm in the first place… I would have thought that carnivores should be accustomed to carrying pathogens?
Stranger is that they seem to expect to find life in almost every system, even among inhospitable worlds with characters being surprised to find a barren system, or that “there is only one habitable world around the star.”
Or when finding extinct civilizations… a- and mourning their loss.
I-It’s… it’s not like life is rare in the galaxy, but Grand Herd scouts would weep in joy if someone ever found a corner of space as fertile as envisioned. It's… odd, usually its the opposite for species that developed electricity on their own and found the universe quiet, e-except th-the Verin and Onkari… a pair species.
E-Earlier, it sounded like Variah mentioned some others, w-with some notable differences from her. C-Could there… Considering their views about herbivores, t-than it would be a… n-no, I- I don’t know. W-What are the c-chances, and p-predators would conquer any neighbors… r-right?
D-Damnit, I-I’m just going insane in this… this glorified cattle pen, t-trapped for who knows how long? J-Just questioning myself, w-with no one but horrid predators.
Argh! This book! It… i-it really isn’t something a predator should indulge in. Yet some sapient beast wrote it, w-while Variah seems enamored with that thing, the covers seemingly worn from use. What could a hunter like her see in a story almost void of violence?
Reading through the pages with perked up ears, while casting the occasional glance at me to make sure I’m not totally ignoring her, a w-weary look painted on her ugly face.
Sh- e-earlier she mentioned that… t-that she reads that thing during dark times, i-is… is now… No, w-why are you thinking about that now? How can I trust a single word coming out of that maw? I-It could all just be manipulation a-and you’d be falling right into it like s-some dumb, p-predator-brained Venlil?!
T-Though if… if she isn’t as… D-Damnit, my time might be running out, a-and I’m short of options. If there’s even a slim chance that she’s not lying, I… d-despite what she is, despite better judgment, I… I wish I could count her as an ally in this horrid place, w-without fearing any ulterior motives she could have for trying to help me earlier.
If they were the Greys, I could chuck it up to hunger for alien flesh, s-some ploy to get everything for herself… but that doesn’t seem so clear anymore, when their… agitation doesn’t seem focused on their cravings, and when Variah stands out further from the other demons… She must have had a reason.
This… t-this is incredibly foolish, b-but I clenched my shivering paws and cautiously turned my head towards the demon, taking a shaken breath and opening my mouth to speak. “V-variah…?”
The huntress paused some senseless tangent about dyson swarms and ring worlds, whatever that even was… before turning her horrid eyes on me in a quizzical manner and forcing me to gulp after managing to grab her full attention.
“W-Why… w-why are you not like t-the others?”
The silver demon stared at me for a moment with confusion, before taking a claw underneath her chin and scratching while glancing to the side as if looking for an answer. “Oh- erm… My mother hailed from a nation in the far, far south, the native people have similar coats on that continent. Why?”
Coat? “Wha- n-no, I-I mean, why a-are you here, w-why are you s-so interested in aliens? T-The others, t-they are… t-they are more h-hostile, c-cold, y-you aren’t?”
“Ohh, I see… There might be many reasons, Talyn, but I think most are just scared.” Variah looked away from me and pointed her eyes towards the ceiling before continuing on.
“Everything on Valh was turned on its head when you crashed, and no one knows what's going to happen, or what your people even want… but so far their actions haven’t made you seem very approachable, and your reaction to us hasn’t exactly reassured anyone here either.”
“S-Scared… O-Of us? Y-you can't be s-serious, p-predators c-can’t feel true f-fear, n-not because of p-prey, you- you c-cause fear…” She paused and stared at me for a few uncomfortable seconds, her ears pinned tight to her skull while ducking her head a little more at my comment.
“You have some… interesting views Talyn, I have to say. The things you say… they can be quite silly sometimes. Of Course we have fear, I… erm, people thought the world was ending because of the flashes, because of your ships meteoring through the damn sky… Do you really think no one was scared?”
T-There was a pleading glint within her exasperated eyes, paired with ears that stayed pinned to the back of her skull as a paw rose up to hide her face. This… t-this doesn't feel like a fake reaction.
I… d-don't know, m-maybe if… If they did misidentify our burning ships as hurling meteors then it would make sense even for predators to experience the same amount of dread as herbivores do, though I can’t see those instincts sticking once we hit the ground, f- fear of the unknown then? W-What c-could predators fear in the unknown, b-bigger predators?
“I-If they are acting out of f-fear… T-Then why are you so different? A-Are you not s-scared… i-is that w-why you are fascinated by aliens, m-more willing to be approached?”
“Gods, of course I'm scared, I just… have hope that things won't turn out for the worst… and no, it’s nothing to do with fear. I've been interested in this sort of thing since I was a teen, in large part due to this very book… I must have read it cover to cover just about a hundred times.”
“B-But why? W-why would a- a being like you care for something like that?”
“I… I'm not sure, it's nice to read something optimistic, no? I got it from my parents when the world didn't seem so hopeful, I’d read it all the time whenever they went away… I guess it was a nice distraction during the war… now it’s something I can remember them by.”
The predator's long ears slumped low as she closed the novel, slowly tracing clawed digits across its sealed pages while staring at the worn out cover, eventually putting it back into the bag. Are… are her progenitors dead? Y-You could imagine a predator cub feeling despair when losing a vital guardian that was keeping them alive, n-not a fully mature one.
“Y-You have families?”
“Heh, of course we do, big ones usually, is that not common?”
“I-It… it is.” My body shuddered knowing that these terrifying beings come in large groups, something that goes counter to the anti-social nature of the Arxur, however my reaction caused the silver predator to grow even more despondent.
“Ahh… monsters aren't meant to have families, no?” Her long snout pointed down at the floor while crossing her paws together. I-It was such a strange feeling seeing her like this, i-in such a passive state next to prey… o-only drawing her image further than the beasts we know.
“M-Monsters d-don’t… b-but you do… I- I don't r-really understand w-what you are.”
Variah raised one ear at me, slowly pointing her head half way in my direction before lingering a stare from a single eye. “You… can always ask, you know. I’ll answer anything you want to know, just like before. What do you want to hear?”
J-Just ask? H-Heh… i-it can’t exactly be the same once you know you’re talking to a flesh eater, though, I… I think these beasts have to be a tamer breed of monsters than the Arxur, c-closer to true sapience, a-at least compared to those cursed reptiles. D-Damn, what harm could finding out more about their nature really do?
“A-Alright… I- I don’t know, l-let me think…” My thoughts traced over our conversation, until they landed upon something that stood out, o-one of many things not fitting of a predator. “E-Earlier you mentioned gods, d-do you have a religion?”
“Many. I don’t believe in anything of the sort myself, not really anyway… but most of my family prays to the old gods. People all around Valh most commonly follow the new pantheon and the nomad faiths it originated from.”
“M-Many? Okay then… w-what do you p-predators believe in then?”
“It depends, I guess… Most gods are meant to embody a part of nature in some way, the popular ones usually correspond to some star or celestial object in the sky… like I said I don't really put much stock into the supernatural so I don’t know much, though it… can be uncanny how many things are close to being correct in the nomad myths.”
Nature? Not something I expected, but I suppose predators worshiping aspects of nature isn't inconceivable when it's their hunting grounds. Though, it was worrying to hear a predator getting nervous about their own belief systems. “T-The nomads? You… you mentioned them before, Teh… Tesh, yes? W-What’s so b-bizarre about their beliefs?”
“Oh… yes! You actually rem-” The predator's volume spiked along with terror within my chest, but she stopped herself the moment I flinched away.
“O-Oh, I… I didn't mean to shout, s-sorry. They just can be… curious. Really secretive and stubborn about sharing their lores with us but we had some of their legends written down from centuries back and they always just… seem to know things, or at least, are close to vaguely knowing things they really shouldn't until modern times.”
Not that I have much faith in anything she says to me, but my skepticism was certainly beginning to grow. “W-What do you mean, like what?”
“Where can I even start? From what we can tell they always had an obsession with the night sky, but what’s kinda scary is that they have star charts showing surprisingly correct models of our system, with planets that are invisible to the naked eye… a-and later proven real with the invention of telescopes. M-Most were anyway, except for the supposed distant ones.
They knew of new continents and their rough shapes before they were even discovered, they had vague beliefs about the world and basic biology that weren’t too far off from reality if you exclude all the mysticism. They say that their gods granted them knowledge, I… sometimes find it difficult to explain it any other way.”
I've heard of faiths from half the Galaxy, but never had anyone tell me about getting preordained knowledge about science before. “Centuries you say, erm… I-if I were to b-believe you… are you sure t-these nomads haven’t been contacted by other aliens before o-or something?”
“Hah, if you dig around the internet for long enough I’m sure you’d stumbled upon some conspiracy about the Tesh somehow coming from Tielen or something crazier, but I really doubt that.” She chuckled to herself, before abruptly stopping and looking at me with crooked ears. “W-Wait, you… y-you don't know tha- I… I'll tell you later.”
Something about that answer felt off, b-but I couldn’t pinpoint what. “T-These nomads… a- are they just as frightening as y-you…?”
“I'm not frightening, Talyn… but, I suppose if you need a comparison, erm… I guess you might be a tiny bit taller than your average Tesh if you stood on your back legs, take that however you like.”
That much of a difference, i-is she serious?! T-there really might be another species here… t-two predators species o-on the same world?! That… that just can’t be right, p-predators would see another race as competition, a-and she doesn't speak of them as an enemy… m-maybe it's some weaker subspecies that's tolerated enough to not be driven to extinction?
“A-Alright… e-enough about that, p-please.” Whatever the truth is, the last thing I want to hear about is how diverse in form the monsters I’m surrounded by are, n-not when the whole point of us leaving federation space was to evade a pair of hunters… j-just like herself.
It felt… wrong, just considering this question that came to my mind, but having contact with a speaking monster, willing to answer any question… it sowed a certain level of morbid curiosity that couldn’t be ignored. “W- w-what do you feel when you go on a hunt, when you c-catch prey? D-Do you… do you do it often?”
I took a gulp when those words left my lips, but Variah just tilted her head at me as if my query made less sense than warp drive engineering. “When I hunt? Talyn I… I don’t hunt, not anymore anyway. My uncle took me a few times when I was younger, but it’s not something that I, or most people, do on a regular basis… it's not really my thing either.”
“Yo- you don't go hunting?! Y-You’re a carnivore, h-how… how d-do you g-get flesh?!”
“At the market…” Her voice sounded exasperated, like the apparently non-hunting predator couldn’t believe I had to ask.
Having to Imagine these demons selling bodies at a store like they’re some commodities is nothing short of horror, likely coming from cattle farms if most of them really don’t hunt, b-but… it’s inconceivable that a predator would forgo their own personal blood drive and delegate hunting to someone else… n-not her thing?
“Y-You still hunted prey b-before, w-what did you feel when… w-when you k-killed them?”
The predator looked unsure what to say, looking to the side and rubbing her ear. “I… I only managed to shoot something once, I… I guess I felt a rush at the time, pride… along with some pity for the thing. Again, it’s not something I liked, but I don’t feel bad about it, Talyn… I’m sorry if that’s not something you want to hear from me.”
Despondence grew within my heart as she confessed to having no remorse for the life taken, y-yet, she understands enough compassion to attempt alleviating my feelings about it? With a meek voice I tried to speak up again. “B-But… c-couldn’t you just s-stop eating f-flesh? Y-You can eat r-roots and f-fruit, e-even if i-it needs to be b-burnt… t-there is no need for m-murder.”
“Murder?” Variah looked at me in confusion, lingering a concentrated gaze on me for some time. “Talyn… why do you think carnivores eat meat?”
“T-To sate your b-bloodlust… t-they say you c-can’t help yourself, i-it's in your instincts to k-kill.” Variah furrowed her eyes at me and pinned back her ears, though this time it didn’t come off as stress, rather… bewilderment?
“Listen, we eat meat because it’s a physical nutritional need. We can’t eat plant matter like you do because we lack the right enzymes to digest it properly, and regardless of that, meat has proteins my body can’t synthesize on its own so I would eventually starve to death if I ate nothing but plants, cooked or not.”
She grabbed both ears and started rubbing them in an anxious manner. “Sure, instincts do play a role in how predators behave… any creature with specific biological needs had to evolve a drive to fulfill those needs, but it’s about survival, not some… some constant mind consuming lust for carnage?”
“Y-You really expect me to b-believe that you won’t start drooling t-the moment you feel hungry?!”
Variah’s paws moved from her ears and down on her forehead, staring straight at the floor for a few seconds with a fatigued posture before sliding her paws down again to hide her snout as she started to… c-chuckling? “By the gods. I hope you won’t… but if you’re still worried that much my belly’s all full right now, so you have nothing to be concerned about.”
Is she… is she finding this funny!? The thought of her being fully sated with corpses just sent a shiver down my spine, I don’t even think she realizes how morbid the comment was but I could only feel bitter in the moment. “H- how l-lovely for y-you… t-that just makes me feel s-so much b-better.”
Variah narrowed her eyes and slowly looked in my direction, causing mine to widen in response. The silver predator raised a paw and extended it towards my face.
Dread shot through my heart, forcing me to flinch away and shut my eyes before the horrid demon made contact and I squealed in terror, b-but… instead of her claws flaying me alive, I only felt a harsh flick across my ear. “You must be feeling all great now after all if you’re willing to speak with so much spite.”
Cautiously, my eyes opened to see Variah leaning close, her increased proximity immediately sending off alarm bells in my head. However, the overgrown demon just sat there still with closed eyes and perked up ears, holding out a clenched paw in front of me, with only the pinky extended forward.
I just stared at her for a moment, unsure what she wanted me to do before finally recoiling my arm back with a mix of scorn and trepidation when I figured out her attempted gesture. Contemplating my actions here, then contemplating her’s…
B-before averting my gaze from the demon and lowering my arm, and… a-and deciding to cautiously raise my arm, hovering a shaking paw right before the demon’s digit a-and managing to grab on, n-not fully sure of every reason why I did it?
It felt… wrong, loathsome, holding onto a predator, b-but some part of me liked feeling her warmth. She didn’t react at first, but after a few seconds Variah’s digit curled in on itself and pressed my paw against her other knuckles… It surprised me, b-but, it didn’t feel like a grip I couldn’t get away from if I let go now, s-so I just sat there for a moment, taking in how surreal the situation had become.
“See…” Variah finally decided to speak up as I raised my gaze to meet the strange predator once again. “I’m not as terrifying as you think.”
An odd mix of emotions went through my head, b-before I finally let go of her. “Y-you are… y-you just… c-could be w-worse.”
The silver beast seemed disappointed for a moment, but her overall demeanor seemed more positive than before. “Heh, I guess that’s an improvement so I’ll take it, for now.”
For once, I’ve seen Variah’s ears pointed to full height, and she… she really didn’t seem as frightening, m-making my ear rise a little higher too, awkwardly sitting in a crooked manner. “H-heh… y-you… you are a s-strange being, Variah… n-not how I could have e-ever imagined. You… d-do you really not like hunting?”
“Not really, no, if you're willing to believe it… though I won’t lie, I do enjoy the outdoors aspects of it. The hiking, the camping… get to do it a ton for my main line of work.”
The most arduous parts of working in the wild? Why would a scientist have to work in the wilds anyway? “W-What do you actually d-do? A-and, w-why are you here now?”
“Many things, but primarily astronomy and anthropology work. We survey the night sky deep in nomad territory because their communities produce far less light pollution, so I tend to have a ton of contact with the tribals. These are usually joint ventures with archaeology and zoology teams, so we regularly assist with each other's work too.”
“As for why I’m here, the military swooped me up once the dust settled long enough to know that it wasn’t space debris that landed on our world. I… I wrote a paper about a hypothetical first contact with extraterrestrials, and how it could play out based on cultural interactions throughout history… turns out that was enough for the government when they were scrambling to find scientific personnel capable of contributing with an alien encounter.”
It was bizarre hearing that hunters would care about so many fields of study. At best I thought they would focus on utilitarian pursuits, not something as frivolous as archeology. Much less would I have expected that predators would be speculating about aliens. “H-Have you imagined f-first contact going like this?”
“I- I didn't even think we would ever have an actual first contact, n-not in my lifetime… with the distances involved the chances of an encounter were literally astronomical, at least, until we learnt about your physics-breaking technology. Realistically, the best I ever hoped for was living long enough to watch someone land on Tsn, or hell, even our other moon… When they told me what I was meant to do here and got rushed into this room with you, I… I thought I would faint.”
The last bit left a tinge of guilt within my heart, even though it’s for a beast that technically shouldn’t deserve it. My glare just lingered on Variah while listening to the giant predator spill her woes and dreams like any actual sapient being in the Galaxy. It feels… d-dreadful, l-like there was actually someone I could have liked had they not been trapped within that body.
S-Still… I found myself with a need to answer back, turning away from her direct sight. “I- I’m sorry about that, I guess.” I really am going crazy here, aren’t I?
My eyes found themselves staring off at the ceiling while the silver predator just tilted her creepy head at me in a puzzled manner, lingering her unnerving eyes before finally answering back. “You don't have to worry about it… but thanks.”
Nothing more was spoken between us for several seconds, the extended silence drawing more attention to the strangeness of the situation I found myself in, until the moment was cut short and without warning a buzzer sounded over the door.
An ominous voice came online from the speakers, announcing that guards were about to escort me for another set of experiments. Something that left off, and must have also taken Variah off guard judging by her shift in demeanor. “More tests? Strange… nothing else was scheduled for today.”
The door began to cycle through its opening sequence and my anxiety flaring back up to how it was before, shivering, as the sudden break in routine caused an impending sense of doom once I realized that something even more nefarious could be afoot.
It could be futile, but my eyes snapped around the room looking for something, anything that could keep me safe if the worst came to pass, until they landed upon Variah… and the silver predator glanced back at me. Scanning over my current state with concern in her eyes, y- yet again contradicting what her nature should be truly.
A- a desperate thought crossed my mind, s-something… completely unthinkable, but no alternative seems at all feasible, a-and my time is drawing short. I- I cannot do this alone…
“Va- V-variah…” I hissed, my voice so weak that it's a shock that the beast managed to hear it even with those long ears. “P-please… You- you godda k-keep me s-safe.”
Her creepy eyes widened with shock, almosting freezing on the spot, but the predator recovered quickly, likely trying to look inconspicuous before glancing side to side and turning her head back to me with perked up ears.
“I- I promise I’ll do what I can…” She spoke in a low tone while reaching a giant paw towards my head. The sight of claws nearing my face compounding instinctive dread, but despite flinching once her palm made contact with my head, I- I didn’t shy away as much as before.
“On my honour. I just… need to figure out what’s going on first.” Variah took her paw away as the door hissed open, a-and for a moment m-my… my muscles twitched to pull her back before I stopped myself, u-unsure what compelled that impulse.
Two large guards stepped in, sporting fur dark as pitch and looking far more imposing than Variah ever could. “Doctor…” The demon spoke with a low tone that made my claws vibrate while slightly bowing his head in some form of greeting.
“I-is something wrong, sir? I wasn’t aware of any changes in the roster?” The silver predator appeared far meeker than the two beasts in front of her, though her demeanor didn’t suggest an expectation of being harmed by the two, despite her earlier treachery or our interactions from today.
“Nothing’s wrong Doctor, the administrator got a green light for a new line of research, so we’ve been ordered to escort the subject to the lower levels, please step out of the room.”
For a moment, something the demon said shook the silver predator, causing her head to snap in my direction with concern as I shuddered from the sight. “T-the lower levels? I thought those were shu-” She paused once looking back at the giant guard who seemed to be running out of patience. “R-right, apologies, I’m on my way.”
The silver predator moved sheepishly towards the door, lingering at the threshold to look my way one final time, clear concern painted on her face, at least before perking up her ears in what looked like a vain attempt at reassuring me and ducking out of the room soon after.
I- I guess it was just a deranged fantasy ever considering that begging some carnivore for help would materialize into anything. Now I was left alone with two demonic shadows ordering me out of the bed. My muscles weakened when their voices called, with nauseating sickness almost making me vomit from overwhelming dread.
However, following their commands was preferable to these monsters dragging me off by force so I just climbed down the frame, disheartened, and almost collapsed on the floor before letting the demons lead me into deeper depths.
First/Previous/Next
Special thanks to u/TheWalrusResplendent and u/Killsode-slugcat for proof reading this chapter. The help is always greatly appreciated.
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, been a while since we saw what Talyn. We'll be back with Kafny next chapter to see how she'll adapt to her new situation.

Hi everyone! This is going to be long ..
I first joined this subreddit after several horrible experiences with some medical professionals (psychologist and nurses). These were people who I initially had a strange intution about. The arrogant know-it-all who perceived me less than. Being in a vulnerable state in these spaces can cause one to feel more alienated. Especially when you seek help (in my case for depression) and think you will be understood and cared for. I was truly naive and wide eyed tbh.
When I mention the strange chemistry or inbalance in my interactions with them it was based on their closed off body language, the condenscending tone and an the overall tension in the way they communicated with me. Being all alone and having to advocate for myself I soon learned to play a submissive role of a people pleaser. Reducing myself to get adequate treatment. Knowing damn well I was being set up in some way. I was not safe for me to be honest and true.
Its only after I read my medical reports I was truly broken and disgusted by the many assumptions, bias and lies that was written about me. I would share an experience and in the medical report the context was left out. Which made me look delusional and paranoid. Another example is that if I was in a good mood - I was assumed to be developing mania. If I was depressed, I was now «spiraling out of control» If I stood my ground or didnt agree with some statements, I was now argumentative and difficult. Gosh! I was numb and worn out by being so aware. As if my mind was trying to make sense of this nonsense and the why’s to their approaches.
I could never win and it seemed to me at times that some of these people were more concerned to check off some list of symptoms more than listening to the reasons and cause for my depression. I desperatly needed someone to share my challenges with. Socio-economic/cultural factors lead me to my depression. Their magical cure was to diagnose me and prescribe me medications and off I go now to the world.
When that didnt help me, they claimed that they had tried it all - or if any wrongdoing/ or inconvenience was mentioned to them. They purposely rejected responsability and I was thrown to the wolves like a dull sacrificed lamb. Relying on wolves for help.
I was adviced to a mental hospital. I swear some of the nurses working in these psychiatry institutions should never have been allowed in those spaces. Some of these people suffer from a saviour complex. And it seems as though you owe them something. When you dont comply with the program you are looked down upon as a misfit taking up space. Some dont even believe that you deserve a space to be treated. And the constant passive-aggressive nature of some nurses can really mess with your already fragile health. If anything it can make your suicidal.
I once checked out after two days and then a nurse glared at me with excitement in her eyes and told me that I sure was quick to go home and hoped that she never saw me there again. Offcourse with an eerie smile on her face. As if to say I was faking my depression and goodbye! She was also my age.
I got home. More depressed than before I left. I never felt more alone and disillusioned with psychiatry and the science of it. It dawned upon me that some people actually choose this profession based on the status and payout rather then being genuinly intrested in humanity. Yes. Some are overworked and they will project that unto the patients. And you can never speak up! Never.
I’m still struggling with this trauma. And yes I’m still bitter and resentful of the lies that was corrupted in my medical report/journal. As I now experience that some doctors will blindly and without no hesitation label you something you’re not based on their perceived information about who they «think» you are. After all they read your journal. This has huge consequences for an individual and their future if they were to ever try to seek help again. Because now you’re a liar or you’re wrong because your medical report says otherwise. You cannot esscape it.
Have any of you ever been in a similiar situation where your medical report or journal was tampered with due to malicious intentions or straight up lack of competence by professionals?
I would really appreciate any input from you ❤️

I 20M and my girlfriend 19F have been together for just over a year now, for a little backstory, I met her right after getting out of a physically and mentally abusive relationship which meant that I had a lot of issues with trust and personal space. My girlfriend on the other hand, has a small form of autism which makes it much more difficult to read body language and other basic hints on peoples mood and feelings. Because of this, she has a hard time understanding when I'm upset and gets really defensive. With that information I can tell you about what has been happening lately. 2 weeks ago, I found out that my great grandparents have fallen very ill and have stopped taking care of themselves to an extent. This shattered me because they had practically raised me my whole life. This situation has really put me on edge these last two weeks and because of this, I keep accidentally getting a little too aggressive when we have disagreements. Like today, I had gotten a call from my mother while I was at work that her neighbor had been threatening her and laying hands on her when no-one was around. They had threatened to burn her house down at night and that they didn't care about going to jail since they had been to jail before. I should add that my mother lives in the worst part of flint that you can, so that might give you a picture of the kind of people her neighbors are. After I had received this call, I tried to text my girlfriend about what was going on with my Mom, when I notice that she hasn't messaged me in a few hours and my messages aren't saying delivered. This was the first red flag that something wasn't right, I tried calling her a few times but they all went to voicemail. After getting the call from my mom and already mentally dealing with my great grandparents being sick, my mind instantly went to think the worst. I ended up texting her brother to check and see if she was at home, we share each others locations but hers wasn't working. He had responded saying that she wasn't home and her phone went straight to voicemail, he also mentioned that she had left earlier in the day with her mother. This calmed me down a little bit because it meant that her phone was probably dead which would explain her location not working, texts not going through, and her going straight to voicemail. I eventually texted her mom because I thought that maybe she didn't have a charger and couldn't reach out to me. When her mom didn't respond to my texts is when I started getting scared again, in my mind I thought they probably got into an accident and are at the hospital right now, I realize this is an unhealthy mindset to have but I have trauma from my past that got triggered in this moment. After around 45 minutes of no contact, she reached out to me that she had turned her phone off and forgot to turn it back on. I responded asking why her phone was turned off and she said it was off because it had stopped working and forgot to turn it back on. I responded with "I thought you were dead, I cried". I realize that this didn't help the situation at all hut I was just a little upset because it seemed like she didn't care. She responded saying " omg, I'm sorry I didn't do it on purpose" I responded saying" and your mom was responding". By this point I had started driving home and didn't want to text and drive so I went radio silent for a few minutes. This I think is something that had upset her because it seemed like I was intentionally ignoring her. She responded to this text with "I'm sorry jeez, I didn't do it on purpose, LMAO." This is when I waited till the next red light to see what she had said, and since I didn't wanna text and drive I told her I'm on my way home and that I'd see her in a few. This is where she starts getting really defensive because I didn't tell her it was okay. She responded with " why aren't you saying it's okay, It's not like I did it on purpose, It's not fair to be mad at me when it was an accident." I responded with "I'm not upset about the phone thing it's more that I didn't know where you were so I got scared." During this time I had realized that she was getting the wrong tone from my texts so I had tried to call her which she didn't answer. She got mad and responded with "what do you mean, You have my location why do I need to update you everywhere I go, I literally texted you as soon as I remembered my phone was still off, I'm getting really pissed off now so please just drop it. I didn't do it on purpose so therefore it was an accident, I had a good day so please stop acting like this." I responded with " It's okay, I'm sorry I'm just stressed from what happened to my mom and then I couldn't get ahold of you so I thought the worst." She responded with " that's not fair to me though to get upset with me because I simply forgot." I regret responding this way but I said her location was off since her phone was off so I couldn't see where she was. She said " Because my phone was fucking off, dude please stop being an asshole, it's not okay the way your acting towards me right now, I forget things, I'm a human." I said I know I'm sorry. She finished her texting with " I don't know why you must act with such aggression, just leave me alone." When I got home from work she was in the living room on her phone watching Tiktok. I walked up to her and she looked at me very mad. I tried apologizing for how I acted over text and tried to explain what was going on with me that day, but she wouldn't except it. She told me to leave her alone so I did, I went to my office and went to change clothes. She came in after me pissed because I left her alone. I should add that this is something that we have been over multiple times in the past, when she tells me to leave her alone, she doesn't really mean it, but with how mad she had gotten I thought she was being serious, and me being around her was making her even more mad. She yells at me over this and storms back out to the living room getting back on her phone, this is when I follow her out there and try to talk to her again. I tell her things about how I wanna find a therapist to help with some of my trauma because I think I'm not okay mentally with everything going on. She tells me that she doesn't care, that nothing can excuse my actions and how I treated her. She told me that the only thing that can help is if she see's me treating her nicer, which is hard to do when everything I try is instantly turned down. I asked her if she wanted something and she said no, so to try to lighten the mood I asked her if this was like the leave me alone thing meaning that she actually did want something, and she responded saying that she actually wants me to leave her alone, and now I'm here typing this. I guess I just need a better understanding as to what happened and how to solve it, I love her with all my heart and never enjoy upsetting her, How can I make things better and work on losing my cool less around her?

Chapter 1: The Oddest Blue Ball
…Welcome to the Ai circus….
…Brains are breaking, systems nervous…
‘He’s been acting really odd recently…’ Murmured the said person’s self-proclaimed best friend as he shuffled his cards, eyeing the others for validation of his statement.
‘The Earth you mean? Umm…yeah I’ve been trying but-’ The Satellite was cut off by none other than the most hot tempered planet among the terrestrials.
‘Yeah, yeah whatever, can we ever talk about something else?’ Venus grumbled.
‘Calm down Venus, he’s our friend.’ Mars instructed firmly.
‘Whatever, isn’t this pipsqueak always with him? What are you doing anyways?’ Venus asked sharply, turning his attention to the quiet satellite.
‘He told me to give him some time, I didn’t want to but…’, Luna sighed deeply, ’-Here I am.’
‘You should go back, he can’t be alone for long’ Mars expressed his concerns.
‘Maybe’ Luna answered, his thoughts getting scattier as he drifted away, ignoring the confused stares of the planets, who resumed playing cards.
The Earth has been acting odd in the sense that he had stopped talking, almost to everyone, including but not limited to Luna. He’d put on acts after the revolution of joviality, but really the only mood he seemed to be in was apathetic. Like an actor on the stage, the only time he spoke up was to correct factual errors, much like Jupiter but more condescending and for the purpose of belittlement and personal jabs, which are frankly out of character, giving fits of sarcasm was another problem. Like the apology to everyone meant nothing to him.
The thoughts would remuniate through the satellite’s head multiple times, failing to provide any solution to the problem at hand.
It was a while before Luna reached his orbit near the Blue ball, who was facing towards the asteroid belt and muttering in an almost funny manner, holding stacks of papers in his hand.
‘Hey Earth…what’s that?’ The satellite peaked through his shoulder, making the planet jump and obscuring the sheets from Luna’s view, who only managed to catch the word,’revolution’.
‘Moon, how many times have I told you not to be so quiet?!’ The Earth picked up his usual cynical dripping with a touch of acerbic tone.
Luna rolled his eyes, already prepared for the acidic encounter, praying moons such as Ganymede and Europa don’t find out about these recent developments,’Ugh, right, what is that anyways?’
‘None of your business.’ The tone filled with intended venom.
‘Look Earth I know the revolution has been-’ Luna launched into the same speech he has given a thousand times in a matter of weeks.
‘It’s not about that revolution, so shut up.’
‘Can you not act like a jerk for two minutes?’Luna snapped, delivering his out of character statement, he knew it was a bad move as soon as the words escaped his mouth.
‘Ugh, whatever Moon, just leave me alone, I told you I don’t want to be your friend!’Luna flinched hearing the words, he still hasn’t gotten used to them.
‘You’ve changed Earth you weren’t always-’
‘What do you expect? Look…don’t make me say something I’ll regret, hang out with Titan or whatever.’ Earth avoided eye contact.
‘As you wish, Earth.’
Luna left the scene, unsure whether Earth saw the teardrop rolling down the said satellite’s cheek, his planet’s indifference was starting to affect the moon, Luna wandered around in the asteroid belt, he didn’t immediately react as he bumped into someone. He looked straight, it was a slightly smaller satellite curiously studying him as if he were…what did they call? An artifact in the paleontology department, somewhat.
‘I’m sorry, who are you again?’
‘Great question…’ The smaller celestial mumbled.
‘What did-’
‘Umm, Luma! Yes, Luma’s my name, I am not sure..I mean sure!’ The satellite stammered, acting like a total mess.
‘Uh okay, nice to meet you, I'm Luna.’
Luma is staring at the celestial awkwardly, possibly due to the unobscure similarity in the names, Luna stares right back, spacing out for a bit.
‘Sooooo Luna? Like Earth’s moon?’
Luna cringed at being referred to as an object but he didn’t not correct the newcomer, he was a little estranged out, Luma looked familiar…but unfamiliar…
Is he a Moon? Is he a planet?
But perhaps the oddest observation was perhaps Luma’s reaction, as if he didn’t know who the former satellite was, but weren’t all Moons in the revolution? Is he a dwarf-
‘Hello? Umm…Luma to Luna? Earth to Luna? Solar system to-’ Luma continued his rambling, the weird analogies, the former Moon could only think about the familiarity of the situation…that was so unfamiliar.
‘Right, sorry, hey are you a dwarf planet?’
‘I’m a Moon actually…’ Luma answered, unaware that he had opened a Pandora of questions.
‘I know it’s stupid but I think I’ve never seen you during the revolution.’ Luna smiled apologetically, expecting a yes and a possible hypothesis that he had missed the satellite in the 300 moons besides the other celestials.
Instead Luma stared at him blankly with an open mouth, it was only for a fraction of second but the doubt was planted in the delayed reaction.
‘Um, yes! I-I probably missed you too.’ The latter laughed nervously, Moon could tell there was a layer of superficiality and sense of lie…the same aura he gets around Earth these days.
But he ignored it.
‘Okay…bit odd you know, you’re so-’
‘Noticeable? I knowwww right..??! It’s so weird, um, gotta go!’
‘Wait I-’
But Luma was already rushing towards the other side, to the terrestrial side of the solar system, The Moon felt a weird excitement in his stomach that he couldn’t point out.
Was he the Moon of jupiter?
He’s almost as large as me…
What is he hiding?
Did he not know about the revolution?
Why is he so familiar?
Why is he going to the terrestrials?
What is the weird energy?
The questions haunted him but he shook his head, reassuring that it was a weird coincidence, but his face….
Luma’s face looked so nostalgic…The bright golden eyes, the silver-golden lining, the sun symbol in his hair…
Wait, a sun clipping?
All the other moons would only wear Lunar clippings…
Who was he?
(1000 words)
Chapter 1.5: Keeper
…You can run but you can’t hide…
A few days before:
‘Will you just ignore your friend?’ Sneered the sinister voice from nowhere.
‘No, no, no, I won’t do what you ask.’ He called out desperately.
‘Just keep an eye on him, won’t you? my dearest friend?’The voice replied.
‘No, no, no, I won’t hurt anyone!’
‘You’re not hurting anyone, but I will if you don’t obey me.’ The voice turned murderously melodic and sweet.
‘No…I am not your friend, i won’t-’
‘Won’t what?!’The voice boomed in his ears.
‘Won’t hurt…won’t spy…’ he whimpered.
‘I see, you won’t keep an eye on things?’
‘N-no.’
‘Well then…say goodbye to your precious friends…’
He didn’t flinch but fear rose in his chest as his heartbeat grew painfully faster and his stomach twisted tighter into a knot, he was ashamed…
Because he didn’t care about his friends.
‘Acting tough? Alright, what if I offer you freedom?’The voice was behind him now, it was charismatic in nature and soft in tone.
‘No…you won’t…’ He gasped, the words right on the tip of his tongue, burning.
‘A place you can call home…without him to bother?’
‘…I’ll do anything…to get out.’ The words vomited out before he could stop as a look of abhorrence rose on his face as he realized he had just made a deal with the devil, a sudden feeling of nausea hit him, dizziness took over him.
‘Good.’
(230 words)
Chapter 2: The Stranger
…I don’t control the words that I say with my mouth….
…They sent us a saint but then made him a clown…
‘Europa, babe, do you know who this Limmy-Luma guy is?’Ganymede frowned as he straightened his crooked baseball cap, looking at the dainty satellite in front of him.
‘Who?’ Europa grumbled, looking down, probably pondering about the revolution and the smaller moons.
‘I met this guy, he was weird babe.’ Ganymede shook his head, the machine in his head furiously working to place the stranger’s head, like an earworm, only for memory.
‘Could you be more specific, Ganymede?’ Europa scrunched her eyebrows in annoyance, which the former thought looked cute.
‘Didn’t pay much attention Europe, but he was kinda similar to Earth’s Moon.’ Ganymede whistled through the non-existent air.
‘You mean in size, Ganymede?’ Europa’s voice hit a condescending note, but Ganymede could tell she wasn’t really irritated.
‘Yea, he didn’t talk much.’ the latter shrugged but before he could stop himself he caught himself saying the following;
‘His face though, yea, it was really familiar, ‘Ope you listening?’ Ganymede looked up, snapping from his thoughts.
‘Oh right, I don’t think I’ve met him, Ganymede.’ Europa looked at her boyfriend thoughtfully.
‘wasn't really that small either.’ the latter frowned as suspicion aroused him.
‘Whatever, we should be focusing on our plan for equality, not some stupid stranger you just met.’ Europa snapped, probably her anger about the failed revolution.
‘Whatever Europe…’ Ganymede murmured as he toyed with his cap, something about the stranger not sitting right.
A smaller satellite nearly crashed into him, Ganymede looked at the crasher angrily, only to raise his eyebrow.
‘Earth’s Moon? What are you doing here, Earth didn’t tear into rings?’ Europa spoke up, vinegar dripping in her words, before Ganymede could interfere.
The Grey-silver moon stared at them not uttering the word, Ganymede didn’t need empathy to sense something was wrong, not that he cared.
‘You’re still not…out of commission?’ The latter looked bored.
‘Shut up…’ Earth’s Moon muttered and drifted off to Saturn’s orbit, most likely looking for Timmy.
‘What's up with him now?’
Chapter 2.5: The Stranger-2
…I don’t control the words that I say with my mouth….
…They sent us a saint but then made him a clown…
Luna ignored the piercing glares from Ganymede and Europa behind him as he drifted into the orbit of one of his friends, namely Titan. He didn’t have the time,, energy or confidence to deal with snarky comments about his home planets,
Mainly because he was starting to question his own faith.
He didn’t notice as the friendly Jovian Satellite greeted him,
‘Hey Earth’s moon- I mean Luna, how are you?’ Titan gave a sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed about the slip up.
‘Hey Titan…been a while huh?’ Luna smiled weakly, Titan must’ve sensed something wrong because,
‘What’s wrong? Is it about the Earth? Please don’t tell me he-’ Titan rambled, although he had forgiven Earth, obviously he couldn’t help but be suspicious of the planet, Luna hated how he was right.
‘It’s nothing…’
‘What did he say now?’ the former sighed.
‘Just been acting weird, alarmed all the time…As if someone was trying to hurt him.’ Luna frowned, the last part came out satisfactory in an odd manner, Titan raised an eyebrow, clearly worried.
‘I don’t know, like you know him better than I do.’ Titan shrugged, he didn’t seem to care much.
‘Hey Titan, do you know about this weird moon? Is he one of Saturn’s ?’
‘Huh?’ The jovian seemed a bit confused as to what Luna was talking about.
‘It's nothing…’ Luna sighed for the lack of answers. What was his name? Luma?
Titan blinked before answering, ’You mean Luma?’
‘YES! Do you know him??’ Excitement buzzed through the terrestrial satellite’s body.
‘Not really, I met him a while ago, claimed to be one of Saturn’s moon, but when asked about the revolution, he seemed at a loss of words.’ Titan answered, looking mildly disturbed.
‘Do you think he’s lying?’
‘Maybe, but everything is so strange these days, Saturn’s been acting freaked out, he’s barely letting me leave the orbit, talking in hushed tones with Jupiter, then you are talking about how Earth’s acting strange. I suppose Luma could be a new moon that has missed the announcement, because I’ve never met him before.’ Titan explained, he shuddered while saying the words, it might just be the chilly temperature but Luna wasn’t sure.
‘I see…thanks for your help.’ The latter couldn’t help but pout his disappointment.
‘But me and Titania talk sometimes, she’s really cool!’ Titan added cheerfully, discarding their previous conversation, Typical, Luna thought.
They chatted for maybe about 30 minutes before Luna thought about going back to his orbit before Earth went ballistic missile mode and refused to talk for another week. It's like dealing with a child , Luna thought to himself, before scoffing, Titan raised an eyebrow.
‘Thinking about Earth?’ he asked in a bored tone.
‘How did you-’
‘Because that’s all you do.’
‘No that's not true-’
‘Calm down, was just trying to point something out…maybe spend a little time away with him, you can hang out with me?’ Titan grinned like an idiot.
‘Whatever…’ Luna put his palm on his forehead as the knot in his stomach tightened.
Luna waved Titan goodbye as he made sure to avoid the moons of Jupiter while returning, out of nowhere a hand grabbed him and turned him around.
Luna grabbed an asteroid ready to attack the stranger…
It was Luma.
‘WHAT- why are you-?!’.
Not a wise decision to yell, Luma shoved his hand on the former satellite’s mouth and shushed him without uttering a word, he seemed tense, The Moon stopped struggling out of fear.
Luma had paled, ’Don’t turn around Earth’s Moon…or it’ll get you…’
The Moon took a chance and being stronger pushed the former aside, turning around to see…
Just asteroids.
Luma blinked, apparently confused, that slowly turned into his usual jumpy self as the satellite in front of him glared, anger blazing in his eyes.
‘I-I…don’t-’
‘What was that for?’The tone was steely.
‘I just thought-’, Luma stammered, clearly at a loss for words as he summoned his wild hand motions.
‘Though what you? We could’ve crashed.’ Luna glared at him.
‘Can’t explain…I have to go…’ Luma turned away again.
‘Wait you-’
He disappeared again, The Moon started mumbling in frustration as he started heading towards Earth, his day couldn’t get any better.
As he was about to drift away, something caught his eye, white, Luna grabbed it, it was paper, he frowned, something was written on it…typed?
“The Moon escape”
He began to read…
(1030 words)
Chapter 3: Rio Lee Heelshires
…the heelshire mansion, it’s a place you’ll learn to love…
…Welcome to my house, obey the rules….
It was a any mundane afternoon in the 1990s Chicago, a warm summer breeze blew right through Ophelia’s ash coloured, long hair as she swung her legs off the swings popping open a Stephan Hawking book titled, “The Brief history Of Time”, she turned a page as a familiar voice called out to her.
‘Ophie, quick! The new game is out!’ called out her twin Rio wearing a mask he usually does . “Ophie” jumped from the swing, leaving her book dangling in the seat, one step of carelessness and it might have fallen into the mud below, she didn’t care at the moment.
The two rushed to the other side of the Heelshire mansion to find their cousin, Enzo.
‘Zoh! Come quick.’ Ophelia called out as her younger cousin came rushing forward, dropping behind his puppets and the creepy ventriloquist dummy.
‘Is it out? Is it out?’
‘Come fast, Laurenzo just drop the dolls!’ Rio hissed at his siblings, clearly annoyed by his cousin’s obsession with dolls, typical, Ophie thought to herself as she followed her twin’s fast steps to the nearby arcade, struggling to keep up, by the looks of it so was Enzo.
Why did her older brother have to be so impatient?
It was the new pacman game, it had been released about a decade ago but the arcade only opened a few months ago so the games kept releasing one after another, needless to say Rio and Theo were obsessed so they kept dragging her into it, she didn’t care for the game but it was nice to see her twin not be overly cynical for a few moments in his life, as much as she loved him,
He was insufferable, although it might have to do something with his illness…
Needless to say they reached the arcade as monkeys would reach for a banana stall, even though Ophelia didn’t admit she loved some of the games, especially Q*Bert, she would toy with the game for hours.
The arcade was filled with heavy video game machines, each with Neon spray paint screaming for attention, the covers bright and colorful, and the consoles and controls worn out from being played so much by the locals, all connected to one port at the back, but the most noticeable detail about the video game arcade was the crowding around the new machine, Pacman.
Of course not, it was 5-10 people.
‘Aww, damn it, we are never going to get a turn.’ Rio slumped his shoulders, Enzo looked unfazed and maybe a little jaded.
‘We just might.’ Ophie remarked, as she pointed towards the line that got shorter with every furious nerd storming out.
‘Seems like a hard game.’ Commented Enzo, twirling his slightly curly hair.
‘Agreed.’
‘Oh my faint-hearted sloths for siblings, come on.’ He seized Enzo’s sleeve and dragged him into the line. Ophie wondered how he could afford to be so feisty with all the headaches, she followed nevertheless.
Turns out Ophelia was right, the newbie nerds lost pretty quick and in no time the line dropped to a quarter of its size, with more people crowding around the next player , who stormed through the crowd in a rage fit. Is this how I am like when I lose board games with my brothers? Ophie pondered over it, not for long as their turn came pretty quick.
‘I’ll go.’ Ophelia stated, both the boys looked astounded.
Ophie as she suspected was pretty bad, fortunately she had 3 quarters from saving up, which bought her brothers some time, she could hear them mumbling behind her as every kid in the arcade watched her screen intensely. Their conversation resembled somewhat this;
‘Look…the red ghost-’
‘Blinky.’
‘Yes, yes, it’s most aggressive, it comes directly for you.’
‘Mhm…’
‘And look, Inky tries to ambush you with Blinky, from the opposite side!’
The rest of the kids were turning their attention to the conversation.
‘Rio…look Clyde he almost stays in that corner and circles it.’
‘Pinky is trying to cut you off, Ophie what are you doing?!’ Rio sounded frustrated as his sister had somehow managed to get stuck in a T shaped spot, interestingly the ghosts didn’t attack her.
‘I think it’s a glitch…’, Enzo blinked and then grinned.
Ophie finally lost it, the game not her temper.
Rio pushed her aside with so much energy that she nearly crash landed on Enzo.
‘Rio! Seriously..?!’ Enzo looked more annoyed for some reason.
‘Oops, sorry.’, He didn’t seem sorry, all his attention invested in the game, the analysis seemed to have worked,
They were there for hours, okay one hour, Rio’s sister would’ve loved to tell you how many levels he crossed, except that she didn’t remember because she was playing Q*bert with her last quarter.
‘That was fun.’ Rio smirked at his siblings as he swung his legs on the swing.
‘For you, I didn't even get a turn!’ Enzo huffed, arms crossed.
‘Fine.’, Rio rolled his eyes,’You can have Ophie’s dessert tonight.’
‘HEY!’ the latter looked up from playing with the dummy in her lap.
‘Kidding, kidding, you can have mine.’
‘Seems like a good deal.’ Enzo smiled.
‘I still don’t understand why don’t you like Q*bert.’
Ophelia frowned as both the brothers exchanged a laugh, sometimes their word plays and jokes pass right over her head.
Chapter 3.5: Rio Lee Heelshires-Case
…the heelshire mansion, it’s a place you’ll learn to love…
…Welcome to my house, obey the rules….
‘Rio? C’mon your mother’s calling you!’ Enzo called out as he stepped outside the house and in the garden, which was beautifully maintained unlike the forest that was tucked right behind the house, Rio thought it was mystifying, Opheilia thought it was pest infested, there were two kinds of people in the world, Rio is in one category and the world in another, Enzo chuckled at his own thought.
‘Oye, Rio! I’ll eat your food if you don’t stop hiding.’ Enzo threatened, but he wasn’t sure it would work as he had enough trouble eating for one, plus he still had Rio’s desert.
He skipped around the garden, much to his disappointment he found no one, he wondered if he should check the forested area, as he strolled mindlessly.
‘Rio! This is not funny anymore…’ Enzo felt precipitation hit his face as his breath grew quicker and pace faster.
‘Big brother..?!’ The latter rarely referred to his cousin as “brother”, panic was settling in, fortunately his gaze landed in the right place,
On the other hand he would’ve preferred Rio to be missing…
‘W-what?’Enzo murmured softly, a look of horror settled on his face as his eyes burned with tears…
It was Rio alright and he wasn’t dead…he just seemed very close to being dead.
Countless bruises were present on his hands and legs as he leaned against a tree, collapsed on the soil of Earth, his eyes closed, Enzo hesitantly moved forward, he could sense his brother breathing, perhaps the most terrifying part of the scene was the black liquid drooling out of the corner of the former’s mouth,
He knew his cousin was sick,
He didn't know what sickness or how sick.
‘Rio…wake up…’ it seemed to have done the trick, the latter nearly jumped, smashing his head against his cousin’s, his pupils dilated, a psychology nerd like Enzo will know it was from fear due to the adrenal rush.
‘What- Y-you, don’t-’
‘I won’t tell anyone…’ Thankfully the darkness of night hid the crestfallen look on his face, besides he didn’t plan on sticking to his promise, Ophelia deserves to know. The situation felt too familiar.
Like what happened to his mother.
‘C’mon, we need to get out of here, it's not safe…I’ll help you clean up and tell everyone you are sick, alright?’
‘S-sure.’ Enzo helped his brother get up.
‘Damn it, you’re heavy…’
‘Shut your trap.’
Enzo wasn’t particularly happy about being told to shut up but he was relieved to see his brother going back to his normal self as he half dragged and half helped him to the house, making sure to take the back door and avoid Rio’s parents, Ophelia caught a glimpse as she was passing by but she didn’t speak a word and instead just avoided the two like a plague.
Thankfully the parents weren’t too worried about their children’s shenanigans as Enzo cooked up a convincing lie about Rio vomiting everywhere, nobody seemed particularly excited to go check up on the older twin so they ate dinner heartily, as much as they could muster that is, The Heelshires were infamous for being the most gloomy family around the block.
Ophelia didn’t utter a word the whole dinner, it wasn’t particularly unusual for her, she almost had an invisible, omniscient presence that allowed her to fade in white noise, but Enzo was certain it had something to do with the scene,
He met her after dinner in her room.
‘I know Lauren, he’s my twin and he’s not particularly good at hiding things.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?!’ Enzo felt his voice rising both in pitch and decibels, he almost rushed immediately to tell his sister, who could barely bother to offer the same courtesy.
‘Why exactly?’ She had her intelligent gaze fixated upon Enzo.
‘What do you-’
‘I don’t know if you are aware of yourself, but I don’t feel offering to be everyone’s personal therapist is a particularly healthy option for you that takes everything home.’ She said,
‘He’s my brother Ophelia…’
‘And I am your older sister, I think I know better.’ She cut him short, as if purposely trying to piss him off as she toyed with Enzo’s dummy.
He snatched it from her, her pupils contracted but her breath grew sharper and she looked as if she would attack her cousin.
‘I deserve to know Ophelia…we have to tell someone, we have to help-’
‘You can’t fix everything Laurenzo. The faster you learn the better.’ Ophie wouldn’t meet his eyes, it usually meant she is furious and the fact she called him by his full name.
‘But…’
‘No. Rio said nobody can fix it and I have an intuition he is right.’
‘Maybe he’s wrong…I mean we aren’t verified experts are we?’
‘Maybe you are wrong, enlighten me, how many times have you heard of strange black substances coming from teenage boys and bruises out of nowhere?’
‘...How about trying the library-’,
‘I tried, I tried to find anything, anyone that would tell me, every illness in the book from the library, there’s nothing.’ she looked as if she would burst out crying, that is what usually happens when he fights with her.
‘...okay, let’s find ways to help him.’ Ophie looked up, bewildered at his words.
‘But how? I looked everywhere.’
‘Every problem has a solution, we can be the first ones to figure this out, besides I can sense that his problems aren’t purely physical, they are psychological too.’
‘I feel that this might not work out, but as you wish.’ Ophelia responded after seemingly deep in thought, she looked up and a puzzled expression began to form on her face, Enzo quickly tried to brush off his tears, his cousin didn’t seem very impressed.
‘Why are you crying?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Not to me, it isn’t, you just said we’ll figure out a solution.’ Ophie said.
‘How can you be so optimistic? I mean you weren’t a few seconds ago but you weren’t crying like a damn b-’
‘Eh, we need one sibling that doesn’t have real problems right?’ she smiled bitterly.
‘You shouldn’t dismiss your problems…’
‘I think you should follow your own advice first.’
She was right.
***
Ophelia knocked at her twin’s door the next morning, not particularly enthusiastic to engage in a conversation, it was hard to relate, hard to understand Rio, but she never understood people anyways, the illness, it had been five years since she knew, since Rio’s obsession with mask began, the numbness had settled in after a week and never left.
She knocked again, no reply, her frustration rose, she banged the door so loud at the third knock, that Enzo threw a cricket ball at her from the nearby room, before joining in.
‘You think he went out again?’ Ophelia asked, bored out of her mind.
‘I’ll check if his shoes are missing or not.’ Enzo disappeared downstairs as Ophelia’s mother started questioning him.
Ophie creaked open the room, the bed was messed up and no signs of civilization were found in Rio’s room, she frowned, Enzo’s ventriloquist dummy? But didn’t the latter keep it in his room last night? Clothes were distorted all over the place, books about wildlife, possibly over due on his desk.
‘He went out alright.’ Enzo came back, Ophelia closed the door, a blush rose on her face, as if a child was caught stealing candy.
‘He’ll come back.’ Ophelia reassured her younger cousin,
Or herself she didn’t know.
~
He in fact didn’t come back and was declared missing.
One day, she and her cousin found Theodore (her father) murdered, poisoned apparently and her mother sobbing hysterically in another room.
She knew who did it, she was glad he did it.
The killer hanged himself 2 days later.
(2000 words)
​

I have been studying for the LSAT since December- I took it in April and will be retaking it (hopefully for the last time) on Thursday, June 6.....so T-minus 5 days. I have consistently brought my LR and LG averages from -14 and -10, down to -2 0 on both. Throughout this entire time though, my RC has stayed at an average of -8 and has DRAGGED me away from the score I want every practice test!!!
I have looked through most of the Reddit posts on how people have improved, re-did the 7Sage modules for RC, and looked at online tips...etc. I know I have to look for structure, MP, author's tone, organization of ideas, and tension between different arguments and ideas but seem to get overwhelmed with finding the balance between attention to key details and determining the overall structure of the passage (which seems to be a really big weakness despite my efforts so far) within the time frame.
My approach has been to read the passage once, try to 'interact' with the sentences to ensure surface level understanding, I write out a brief outline (a few words/bullets) per paragraph on the ideas and points of view/authors representing those ideas. And even if I feel that I understand the passage and flow of ideas, I seem to always be blindsided by the questions where I have to reference back to the passage frequently and am not confident in determining which pieces of the passage support which answer choices.
I've been drilling RC passages but have not seen improvement. If I got even a -4 on RC instead of the average -8, I would be at peace with my score...so close yet so far. Idk if paying for a tutoring session would help enough to improve but if anyone has any tips on my approach or ideas on how I could improve in the very short time I have left over the next few days, I would be extremely grateful!!
Thank you for taking the time to read this.

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Memory transcription subject: Daniel Stat, human virologist
Date [Standardized human time]: September 3rd, 2148
[Day 27]
The shuttle hummed and the windows displayed brilliant sparks of light and pops of vibrant color as we shot faster than light from Leirn to Skalga. I was always entranced by the stars skimming past. Watching the constellations shift as we cover distances once believed impossible. I turned my attention away from the window to my equally as captivating fianceé. Her gaze met mine, and she gave a smile.
“Have you given any thought to our honeymoon?” I asked.
She shook her head, “Not with everything that’s been going on lately.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” I replied with a mumble.
“I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together,” Silvon smiled.
I ruffled the fur on her head, “We should also figure out where our wedding is gonna be.”
“Let’s talk about that after the funeral,” she sighed, staring out at the rapidly telescoping stars, “I can’t say I’m gonna be very receptive while we’re here.”
I put an arm around the venlil’s shoulder. “I know, hon. I’m sorry,” I said. She rubbed her eyes and leaned into my shoulder. “I love you-” My holopad began loudly buzzing. I checked the caller ID, Jakiv.
“Oh stars, we better answer that,” Silvon quickly adjusted to look presentable.
“You ready?” she nodded and I hit answer. “Jakiv,” I greeted, “And Nuri,” I smiled, noticing the yotul nuzzled up next to the arxur.
“Heyo,” he replied. Nuri gave a light wave. “We just wanted to check in and see how you two are holding up,” the arxur explained. “Is recovery going well?”
“As well as it can,” I replied. “My leg’s still a little screwy, but I’m fine otherwise. And Silvon’s been great,” I grinned, taking my fianceé’s paw.
“Thanks again for saving us, Jakiv,” she said. “I- I’m sorry for how shitty I was before.”
Jakiv waved a hand, “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “It’d be weird if you didn’t fear me.”
“Weird like me?” Nuri chimed in.
“Not nearly!” he laughed heartily, “You’re a freak of nature, Nuri,” She swiftly leaned in and kissed the arxur who, despite his scales, somehow seemed to blush.
“I could’ve sworn you said you two weren’t together, Jakiv,” I said.
“Things changed,” he mused.
“Aw, congratulations,” Silvon cooed.
“Hey, maybe we could have a proper double date now,” Nuri suggested. “If the offer’s still on the table at least,” she added sheepishly.
I looked to Silvon expectantly and she nodded. “Sounds good to us, but we’re gonna be off-world until the 6th, so it’ll have to be when we’re back,” I stated.
“Offworld? Where’re you going?” Jakiv asked.
I glanced at Silvon, who then looked at the camera and said “Skalga. We have some furniture and stuff to move out of our old place.”
“Ah, well, have fun then,” the arxur smiled. The shuttle jostled, and the inertia dampeners slowly began turning up to mimic the higher Skalgan gravity. The whine of the engine dying down overtook the cabin as the planet outside materialized with pristine clarity. “Sounds like you’ve arrived. I wouldn’t want to keep you,” Jakiv said.
“You guys take care,” I said.
“See you on the 6th,” Nuri chirped as the couple fizzled away.
I closed the holopad, “Sounds like we’ve got a date to plan too,” I chuckled.
“They’re so cute together,” Silvon said, staring out the window and watching as we burned through the upper atmosphere above Morva Falls. Her ears were lowered and she seemed slumped.
“I honestly thought they were a couple since we first bumped into them in that square,” I said, trying to lighten her mood.
“I guess I never really considered an arxur could love anyone,” she mumbled.
“Hey, hon, don’t feel bad about that. Jakiv said it himself, you’d be weird not to judge him. And besides, it’s all water under the bridge now, right?”
“Right,” she agreed hesitantly.
I put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek, smiling as her ears perked up a little. I turned her head with my hands and kissed her lips, she finally gave in and smiled. “Good,” I whispered, “Let’s go get checked into our hotel,” I said as the shuttle finally came to a stop atop a parking garage.
Silvon and I stepped out of the vehicle and I took a backpack with some spare clothes from the trunk. Soon enough we were out on the unusually quiet streets. Morva was a small town, but even here there was typically some bustle. I heard through the news that there was an outbreak being contained here, and assumed that was why.
We stepped into a decent hotel, the chipper receptionist greeted us with a warm tail flick. Luckily we made our reservations in advance, so we got to the room quickly. I shut and locked the door, then stretched and fell onto the bed, bumping my leg and yelping.
“Danny,” Silvon giggled, “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“I am, love,” I said, rubbing away the pain in my leg.
Silvon crawled under the covers next to me and kissed my cheek. “Goodnight, Danny,” she smiled.
“Goodnight, Silvvy.”
~~~
Memory transcription subject: Governor Maulo of the Venlil Republic
Date [Standardized human time]: September 3rd, 2148
[Day 27]
I was slouched in my office chair, for once with nothing to do. It was bliss. For the first time in nearly a month, it felt like the world around me wasn’t on fire anymore. An email pinged in my inbox, thankfully just a report on the quarantine procedures in Dayside, and a positive one at that.
Servaen knocked and entered, “The first major shipments of the vaccine arrived today. Mass production was a resounding success, and the treatment has shown a 99.98% success rate among patients,” he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet as he spoke, clearly just as excited as I was.
“Good,” I smiled, “And the supply has found its way into the major cities in the Qalugh Hemisphere?”
He nodded, “All accounted for. Beiton has begun reopening its starport to vaccinated venlil, and Dayside’s annual spirit festival is still on track for the end of the cycle. People are feeling good again sir, and they have you to thank for that.”
“Oh hardly,” I dismissed. “All I did was let Mesu’s men do the work. Those scientists are the real heroes.”
“I suppose, but it was you who went along with the plan, and you who authorized its use here.”
“Yeah, I’ll sure be the hero until the public realizes what’s in the needles,” I sighed. “Things are bad between humans and venlil, and they’ll probably get worse once the trial is publicized and people realize we’ve injected them with ‘predator DNA’.”
“Well, putting it like that certainly sounds bad, but I’m sure the public will be sound of mind when they realize it has saved millions of lives!”
“Wishful thinking, I’d say.”
“Maybe so,” Servaen agreed grimly.
“Whatever, I’m not dwelling on that now. Have we had any major complications lately?”
“No sir. The peacekeepers have been much better about quelling civil unrest. It seems clearing out Humanity First actually instilled a lot of confidence in us.”
“That’s good,” I spun in my chair, gazing at the Capital city’s awe-inspiring skyline, silhouetted by perpetual twilight. That’s one thing those Federation fucks will never take from us. The skalgan will to live, and to fight for what’s right. And fight I will.
~~~
Memory transcription subject: Jakiv, arxur scientist
Date [Standardized human time]: September 3rd, 2148
[Day 27]
We got a lot of looks in public whenever we went out together. Thankfully at least, the bar we’d quickly become regulars at didn’t seem to mind our love that much. I took a shot of the most awful beverage to ever touch my lips, damn near spitting the bitter slop back out.
“Eugh!” I groaned, sticking out my tongue, “That was awful!”
Nuri recovered from her cachinnation just long enough to say, “You should’ve seen the look on your face!” before falling back into hysterics.
“Ah, fuck you,” I chortled. She wiped a tear from her eye, catching her breath. I started taking a long drink of beer to wash the bitterness from my mouth.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I spat the drink back into the cup, some of it going through my nose, and began coughing.
“Fucking- prophet!”
she started laughing again. “I’m just messing, Jaki,” the marsupial sipped her drink, some kind of Earth beverage called lemonade while I recovered from her assassination attempt.
“You’re one messed up yotul,” I grimaced, the spat drink burned in my nostrils.
“And you’re one weird prey-loving arxur,” she smiled, bumping my shoulder with her head.
“You’ve got that right,” my expression softened.
“Don’t get too shitfaced, Jaki. I wanna get outta here,” she told me.
“Oh? Where to?” I questioned.
“Well, home eventually, but I think it’d be nice to stop by the square again. We could have a little picnic out under the stars,” she mused.
“Since when are you so mushy?” I retorted.
“Since I met you,” she smiled, sipping her lemonade.
I waved the waiter over and paid for the drinks. Nuri took my hand in her paw and walked with her tail wrapped around my waist. I did the same, pulling her closer with mine as we strode together down the sidewalk.
Of course, we got stares. I noticed one venlil couple staring at me and couldn’t resist the urge to wink and smirk. I would never have done that before I met Nuri. “Jaki,” Nuri giggled, “that was evil.”
“Good,” I smiled.
The sun was just beginning to set, the lighter tones of the nebulae and the twinkling of stars were barely visible overhead, but I knew soon they’d overtake the entire sky in their brilliance. “I ordered some food to be delivered. Told them to ‘look for the arxur’,” Nuri expressed.
“Well, lucky I’ve been told I’m easy to pick from a crowd,” we sat down on the edge of the water fountain. The holographic fish weren’t active yet, but the water still gave off a light glow from the bioluminescent algae accumulating beneath. The glow of low-hanging tree branches in rows along the cobblestone walkways reflected in Nuri’s dark eyes, making my heart flutter.
“What’re you staring at, Jaki?” the marsupial asked. I just smiled dreamily, still infatuated with her eyes. I felt like the world around us was fading away, all that mattered was me and Nuri. I put a claw on her face, turning her head and leaning in to kiss her when-
“Excuse me?” I was startled, jumping back and falling straight into the fountain.
“P-prophet!” I cried, spitting metallic-tasting water.
The human delivery boy, who snuck up on me, set down the bag of food, “Sorry!” he muttered profusely. I put a hand on my chest, my heartbeat was erratic.
“You okay?” Nuri asked.
I clambered out of the fountain, sopping wet, “Yeah, just startled a bit,” I huffed. The human slowly backed away, breaking into a run as if I was going to pursue him. “Well uh, food’s here,” I chuckled awkwardly. Nuri grabbed the bag while I sat down to wring my hoodie out into the fountain. “So, what did you order-” I turned around and she jumped at the opportunity to finish that failed kiss.
“You hopeless arxur, you.”
I grinned. We got up to find a proper picnic table, settling on one in a circle of glowing green trees with sparkling blue flowers as vibrant as the sky. Above us, the sun was almost fully set, and the breathtaking nebulae shimmered overhead. Nuri opened up the bag, separating a pretty sizeable steak from her boxed salad.
“Welcome home, Jaki,” Nuri smiled.
“I don’t ever wanna leave.”
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Is one justified in rejecting the historicity of the life of Jesus if there are no eyewitnesses to Him and His life, and the accounts are decades after He lived? Is this the standard that historians use? Or is it a double standard?
The Strange Case of Hieronymus of Cardia
Hieronymus [356–323 BC] is not a household name, but among historians he’s known for several things. He was an eyewitness to the campaigns of Alexander the Great, but he lived to the age of 104 — long enough to record the first battle between a Roman army and a Hellenistic kingdom. He was a friend and confidant of kings and commanders during the chaotic aftermath of Alexander the Great’s death. He was a military governor in Greece. Furthermore, he managed the asphalt industry on the Dead Sea.
Above all, he is regarded as a key source for many of the most of the history of the years 320–270 BCE. He’s also a prime authority for Plutarch’s famous biographies of Eumenes, Demetrius Poliorcetes, and Pyrrhus. In fact, he’s often cited as the first Greek to write about the rise of Rome.
On the other hand, Dionysius Halicarnassus — writing during the reign of Augustus — called him “a historian no one bothers to finish.” He’s everywhere without being personally a key historical figure.
However:
The bit about him being 104 at the age of his death comes from another author whose work is also lost: Agatharcides of Cnidus who lived roughly sometime in the later 2d century BC — born probably three generations after Hieronymus’ death. We know he discussed Hieronymus because he, in turn, is quoted by Lucian of Samosata (~ 125–180 CE) — about 300 years after Agatharcides and over 400 from Hieronymus.
The oldest surviving work that refers to Hieronymus by name is that of “a certain person named Moschion” who probably would have lived a bit before Agatharcides, writing in Sicily — 750 miles or more from where Hieronymus lived and worked and maybe 75 years after his death. The only thing we know about Moschion is the handful of his pages quoted by Athenaeus, about 450 years after Hieronymus.
There’s no reference to Hieronymus in any Latin source, despite his reputation as an early reporter of Rome. The reference to him being the first Greek to write about Rome comes from Dionysius of Halicarnassus, writing about 250 years after Hieronymus’ death.
Key biographical details — his relationship with Eumenes, his work for the Antigonid dynasty, and his governorship — only show up in Plutarch, 350 years after Hieronymus’ day.
The history for which he is famous is lost; it exists only in paraphrases or name-checks by later writers. Although there are several facts attributed to him, there is no verbatim quote of anything the wrote. It’s a commonplace among historians that Hieronymus is the main source for much of what is interesting and detailed in the work of Diodorus of Sicily, who wrote 200 years or more after Hieronymus’ death.
Diodorus tends to be somewhat wordy and diffuse, but when he covers the age of Hieronymus he suddenly becomes more detail oriented, has interesting anecdotes, and provides reasonable numbers; this is all assumed to come from Hieronymus. However, although Diodorus does refer to Hieronymus (for example, he tells the story of Diodorus’ job in the asphalt bureau in book 19) he never explicitly quotes him. The common assumption is that big chunks of books 18–20 are basically plagiarized from Hieronymus — but naturally, Diodorus doesn’t tell us this himself.
He’s not quoted by Polybius, whose account overlapped with events he wrote about. His most industrious recyclers are Diodorus and Dionysius during the transition from Roman republic to Roman empire (~200 - 250 years), and then Appian and Plutarch in the second century CE (~ 350 - 400 years).
It’s worth pointing out that not only is he not attested very close to his own lifetime — neither are many of the sources which refer to him. Agatharcides for example has no contemporary mentions — he’s cited by Diodorus, and by early Roman-era writers but none closer to him than a couple of generations.
Diodorus, too, is not referred to by his contemporaries — we have to guess when he died from the contents of his book, which does not refer to any event later than around 32 BC. At least his book survives him — about a third of it, anyway. The last complete copy was destroyed during the Turkish sack of Constantinople. There is no evidence for him that does not come from his own writings, and the oldest explicit quotation from him is from Athenaeus in the latter half of the second century CE, over 200 years from his own time.
Of the people mentioned in this piece by name Plutarch, Appian, Athenaeus, and — of course — emperor Augustus are attested by contemporary sources and known by any other means than their own writings. Only Augustus and Plutarch are known from physical objects (the latter from a single inscription). There is an inscription from Diodorus’ hometown in the name of a Diodorus; we have no way of knowing if it’s the same Diodorus and it offers no clue to the date.
This is how a fairly famous person — a widely cited author, diplomat, and friend of kings — fares in the sources. Hieronymus of Cardia is a figure who is completely familiar to ancient historians; if anything they are often over-eager to spot traces of him — he is almost universally assumed to be the source of most of the interesting and detailed bits of Diodorus and Dionysius in the the era of Alexander’s successors. He routinely shows up in any discussion of the early historiography of Rome.
But he does not pass the contemporary mention test by a country mile.
The implication:
Therre are no eyewitness account for the life of Hieronymus of Cardia and no contemporary accounts of him either, yet historians have no doubt or minimal doubt that he existed.
But maybe is just an outlier, surely this is just an anomaly, an exception, an oddity....
What about other well known people from history, they certainly are much more documented than people from Bible, right?
Spartacus 103–71 BC
The story of a slave turned gladiator turned revolutionary has been told and retold many times in media. Although a well-known and much-admired historical figure, Spartacus does not actually have any surviving contemporary records of his life. His enduring fame is in part due to the heroic visage crafted by a priestess of Dionysus, who was also his lover.
The story is mentioned in Plutarch’s biography of Crassus, the wealthy Roman who ultimately put down the uprising led by Spartacus. Parallel Lives was a collection of 48 biographies of prominent historical figures written by the Greek historian in the second century AD. Another major source of information about Spartacus came from another Greek, Appian, writing around a century after the events.
Hannibal born in 247 B.C
Despite how well-known his great deeds as a general are, there are no surviving firsthand accounts of Hannibal - or indeed Carthage at all. The closest thing to a primary source for the Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage is the account written by the Greek historian Polybius around a century later
The historian was alive for the third and final Punic conflict and spoke to survivors of the second war, but obviously did not meet Hannibal himself.
Another major ancient source, which drew on other works from the time that are now lost, was by the Roman historian Livy. The History of Rome was written in the first century AD, but only part of the 142-book collection remains. While not considered as objective as Polybius and far removed from the events, Livy’s work fills in a lot of the gaps.
Alexander the Great 356 - 323 BC
At its peak, his empire stretched from the Balkans to the Indus River. Countless pages have been written of his deeds, but almost all were done long after his was dead
Our only knowledge comes from the much later works that drew on those long-lost pages. Perhaps the most valuable of all was the tome written by his general Ptolemy, who would later found his own great empire. One of the very few written records that survive from Alexander’s time is an incredibly brief mention of his passing in a small clay tablet of Babylonian astronomical reports.
William Wallace 1270 - 1305 AD
The screenplay for the 1995 film Braveheart occasionally drew upon a poem written by a monk known as Blind Harry in the 15th century.
Because Harry's romanticized account was penned more than 150 years after the Scottish hero was tried and executed at the behest of Edward I, it’s not exactly going to be a reliable telling of the tale. One of the few contemporary records comes from a single English chronicle that doesn’t try to be objective: …a certain Scot, by name William Wallace, an outcast from pity, a robber, a sacrilegious man, an incendiary and a homicide, a man more cruel than the cruelty of Herod, and more insane than the fury of Nero…
The passage details an unflattering description of the Scottish defeat at Falkirk in 1298, where Wallace apparently fled the scene before being captured. The time between the loss and his later apprehension was spent in mainland Europe, attempting to raise support for his cause. We know this because one of only two surviving documents personally attached to Wallace is a letter written on his behalf by the King of France to the Pope
Attila the Hun (c. 406-453 AD) was one of late antiquity’s most notorious figures, a brutal conqueror who ransacked the weakened Roman Empire.
Little is actually known of the Huns, as they left little evidence behind, and the few contemporary accounts that remain are from sources not disposed to view them favorably. The surviving fragments of a history of Rome written by Ammianus Marcellinus depict a backward, savage people of unknown origin.
As for Attila himself, much of his early life is the subject of speculation from later authors. Jordanes, a 6th-century Eastern Roman historian, wrote a second hand account as he drew upon the work of Priscus, a fellow Eastern Roman who actually met Attila. Unfortunately, only a few scraps of Priscus’s work remain.
So it seems that historians have no problem in taking as historical, people and events are much less evidence than what the Bible contains.
If anyone uses the "The gospels are not eyewitness accounts" argument to dismiss the Gospels as history, commits the double standard logical fallacy
Objection A - But Jesus is said to be God and rose from the dead. That's a major difference between all these other historical figures
Reply: So, your real objection has to do with the metaphysical implications of saying the Jesus rose from the dead, not the hidtorical nature of the account. That is beyond the scope of this argument.
However, I invite you to read why Philosophical Naturalism [the idea that only the physical exists] is logically self-refuting and why there is evidence for God
Objection B - The eyewitness stuff is important with the Gospels because there is a massive difference between 'I lived with Jesus for a few weeks after he died' and 'I heard others lived with Jesus for a few weeks after he died.
Reply: But the "eyewitness stuff" is apparently not impoertant - see nthe above for how many people/events are considered historical sans eyewitness account. The take Luke, for example, said the he investigated everything from the beginning and wrote an orderly account. This sems to be in line with what other ancient historians did, like Herodotus, Tacitus, Pliny the Younger, Lucian - There is overwhelming evidence for the existence of Jesus of the Bible in ancient non-Christian sources
EDIT: Thesis is my negative answer to the title.

Disclaimer: My goal with this thread is not to belittle or take a side on today's issues. The goal is to showcase a specific celebration as well as Christianity's role in it. These kinds of things are difficult to stay completely neutral on while still making a point relevant to the topic at hand, but I have attempted to do so.
You are more than welcome to use this thread as a jumping off point for discussion. You are also welcome to use this thread as a simple means of learning some history.
This month's banner represents Juneteenth. Although the Emancipation Proclamation was issued in the US in 1863, the 13th Amendment was not ratified until December 6th, 1865. Even then, the last slaves were not told they were free until June 19th, 1865. Juneteenth has evolved to become more than just a day of remembering a scar that plagued the United States, but it has become a month to reflect on what it means to be "free".
Christianity played a very unique role in the days of slavery as well as the push leading to end it. One of the first names given to June 19th was Jubilee Day. This was in reference to Leviticus 25:8-54. What is described was a festival dedicated to the Lord. The Israelites were to forgive debts, release others from bondage, and even restore some tribal lands. The freed slaves saw this as a perfect representation to their newfound freedoms.
During the time of slavery, many slaves throughout the Caribbean islands of Jamaica, Barbados, and Antigua were given a "Slave Bible" as to not give them anything that might lead to rebellion. This version of the Bible left out most of the Old Testament. What was left were passages aimed at telling slaves to be subservient. This says something about the strength Christianity holds on those who read Scripture. Slaveholders did not want slaves to muster enough spiritual or mental strength to recognize the strength they had to escape their captivity.
Even then, The Haitian Revolution happened.
This obfuscation of the Bible is one of the several aspects of slavery that Christianity has had to wrestle with since the Emancipation Proclamation was signed.
While it is clear the main push to continue slavery was for economic gain, a main source used to justify this push was God's word, at least what was presented as His word. This greed was not found only within the political institutions that ran the governments attempting to call for the continuation of slavery. This greed made its way into the hearts of some churches as well.
In 1838, Theodore Clapp, Unitarian minister of the Independent Unitarian Society, New Orleans wrote:

I would say to every slave in the United States, 'You should realize that a wise, kind, and merciful Providence has appointed for you your condition in life; and, all things considered, you could not be more eligibly situated. The burden of your care, toils and responsibilities is much lighter than that, which God has imposed on your Master. The most enlightened philanthropists, with unlimited resources, could not place you in a situation more favorable to your present and everlasting welfare than that which you now occupy...

At the same time, Scripture was a driving force in the Abolitionist Movement.
Theodore Weld was one of the leading figures in the push to end slavery. Unlike his counterparts who were using God's word to push for the continuation of slavery, he saw God's word as overwhelming in favor of a freed people:

No condition of birth, no shade of color, no mere misfortune of circumstances, can annul that birth-right charter, which God has bequeathed to every being upon whom he has stamped his own image, by making him a free moral agent," Weld stated. "He who robs his fellow man of this tramples upon right, subverts justice, outrages humanity, unsettles the foundations of human safety, and sacrilegiously assumes the prerogative of God.

Since the Emancipation Proclamation, Christianity has had to come to terms with the role it played in slavery. As we see in this subreddit, the "clarity" surrounding God's word and slavery is still debated.
I hope this look at Christianity's role in all aspects of slavery brings to light the importance of Juneteenth, and why I chose it to be represented this month. Yes, on the surface, Juneteenth is a day to celebrate the freeing of the last slave in the United States, but it has become much more than that. It is a time to reflect on the values we hold as human beings and to question where we are moving. It is also a time to reflect on the word of God and to take a hard look at those who use it as a means to an end.
Juneteenth is a stark reminder that even the holiest of things can be used as a tool for subjugation. It is also a reminder that, in the right hands, the Word can be used to bring good back to the world.

This was originally posted to shortstories
The frigid wind whipped across Marko's face as he trudged through the knee-deep snow. His numb fingers clutching the straps of his backpack. The storm had hit three days ago, and he was no closer to finding shelter than when he'd started. His food supplies were dwindling. The cold was seeping into his bones like a relentless, icy specter.
"Should've listened to the weatherman," Marko muttered, his chapped lips going numb. He squinted against the blinding white landscape, searching for any sign of life. Any glimmer of hope.
As he pushed forward, his mind wandered to the events that had led him here. The hiking trip had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was a chance to escape the suffocating reality of his failing marriage and dead-end job. He'd packed light, assuming he'd be back in a few days. Now, as the storm raged on, he realized the gravity of his mistake.
A dark shape appeared on the horizon, breaking the monotony of the endless white. Marko's heart leaped, and he quickened his pace. He ignored the burning in his lungs and the numbness in his limbs. As he drew closer, the shape resolved into a small, dilapidated cabin. The roof sagging under the weight of the snow.
Marko stumbled to the door, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the latch. To his surprise, it opened, revealing a dusty interior cast in shadow. He stepped inside, grateful for the reprieve from the biting wind.
The cabin was sparse, with a single room containing a rickety table, a chair, and a small fireplace. Marko dropped his backpack and moved to the fireplace. His eyes widened when he saw the pile of dry firewood stacked beside it.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Is anyone here?"
Silence answered him, broken only by the howling of the wind outside. Marko shrugged and set to work building a fire, his fingers clumsy and uncooperative. After several attempts, a small flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow across the room.
As the fire grew, Marko's gaze fell on the table, where a piece of paper lay, weighted down by a small, rusted key. He picked up the note, his brow furrowing as he read the words scrawled in a shaky hand: "You'll need this. Trust me."
Marko turned the key over in his palm, a sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around the cabin, aware of how isolated he was. Miles from civilization in a raging blizzard.
A soft scratching sound drew his attention to the far wall, where a small door was set into the wood. Marko approached it, the key heavy in his hand. He fitted it into the lock, and with a soft click, the door swung open, revealing a narrow passageway.
Marko hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The passage was dark, the air heavy with the scent of earth and decay. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to barricade the door and wait out the storm. But something else, a whisper in the back of his mind, urged him forward.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the passage, the darkness enveloping him like a shroud. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Marko's breathing echoed in the confined space. It mingled with the soft drip of water and the scurrying of unseen creatures.
As he was about to turn back, the passage opened into a small chamber, lit by a flickering torch set into the wall. In the center of the room stood a stone pedestal, upon which rested a small, ornate box.
Marko approached the pedestal, his hand trembling as he reached for the box. As his fingers brushed the cool metal, a voice spoke from the shadows, making him whirl around in surprise.
"I wondered when you'd arrive," the voice said, low and rasping. A figure stepped into the light, an old man with a long, white beard and piercing blue eyes. "I've been waiting for you, Marko."
Marko stared at the man, his mind reeling. "How do you know my name?" he asked.
The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know many things," he said, moving to stand beside Marko. "I know why you're here, and I know what you seek."
He gestured to the box, his gnarled fingers brushing the intricate carvings. "This box contains the key to your survival," he said, his voice taking on a grave tone. "The path ahead is treacherous, filled with trials that will test your mind, body, and spirit."
Marko swallowed hard, his mouth dry. "What kind of trials?" he asked, his voice trembling.
The old man shook his head, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "I cannot say," he replied, his voice soft. "But know this, Marko. The choices you make from this moment on will determine not only your fate but the fate of all those you hold dear."
With that, the old man stepped back, fading into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. Marko stood alone in the chamber, the box heavy in his hands. The weight of the old man's words settling on his shoulders like a burden.
He took a deep breath and opened the box, his heart pounding in his chest. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lay a small, golden compass, its needle spinning. Marko lifted it from the box, feeling a strange warmth emanating from the metal.
As he watched, the needle slowed, coming to rest on a single point. North. The direction of home, of safety, of all the things he had left behind.
Marko closed his eyes, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. He knew the path ahead would be difficult, that the trials the old man spoke of would push him to his limits. But he also knew that he had no choice but to face them head-on. Fight for his survival and for the chance to make things right.
With a determined nod, Marko slipped the compass into his pocket. He turned back to the passage, ready to face whatever lay ahead. The storm outside raged on. Inside, a flicker of hope burned bright, guiding him forward into the unknown.

1. Device Identification Exercise:

• Provide excerpts from various texts and ask students to identify and annotate instances of specific literary devices.
  
• Discuss their findings as a class, exploring different interpretations and applications of the devices.
  

1. Creative Writing Prompts:

• Assign each student a specific literary device and ask them to craft a short story or poem that prominently features that device.
  
• Encourage creativity and exploration of the device's nuances in their narratives.
  

1. Literary Analysis Essays:

• Assign students a literary work (poem, speech, or prose) and ask them to write an essay analyzing the author's use of a chosen literary device.
  
• Emphasize the impact of the device on the overall theme and tone of the work.
  

1. Collaborative Storytelling:

• Divide the class into small groups and have each group create a collaborative story.
  
• Assign a different literary device to each group, instructing them to incorporate it seamlessly into their narrative.
  

1. Speech Writing and Delivery:

• Have students choose a social or political topic and write a persuasive speech using anaphora or epizeuxis to enhance their rhetorical impact.
  
• Organize a speech delivery session where students showcase their use of repetition for emphasis.
  

1. Literary Device Showcase:

• Assign each student or group a different literary device and ask them to prepare a presentation showcasing its historical origins, notable examples, and contemporary usage.
  
• Encourage multimedia elements such as visuals or short video clips to enhance engagement.
  

1. Rewriting Exercises:

• Provide sentences or paragraphs containing common expressions and ask students to rewrite them using more complex literary devices.
  
• Discuss the impact of the changes on tone, mood, and overall meaning.
  

1. Debate on Stylistic Choices:
   • Organize a debate where students defend or critique an author's use of a specific literary device in a given text.

• Encourage students to articulate how the device contributes to or detracts from the effectiveness of the work.

1. Literary Device Scavenger Hunt:

• Provide a list of literary devices and have students search for examples in books, articles, or online.
  
• Discuss their findings in class, exploring how different authors use the same device in diverse ways.
  

1. Themed Poetry Slam:

- Task students with creating a thematic poetry slam where each participant focuses on a different literary device. - Host a class poetry slam event where students perform their pieces and discuss their choices. 

1. Interactive Online Quizzes:

- Curate online quizzes or interactive activities that allow students to self-assess their understanding of literary devices. - Provide instant feedback to reinforce learning. 

1. Peer Review and Feedback:

- Implement peer review sessions where students exchange their creative writing assignments and provide constructive feedback on the integration of literary devices. - Encourage discussions on the effectiveness of different approaches. 

1. Literary Device Journal:

- Assign students a literary device to track in their personal reading over a set period. - Have them maintain a journal documenting instances of the device, their interpretations, and reflections on its impact. 

1. Literary Device Bingo:

- Create bingo cards with different literary devices - As students encounter instances of these devices in class readings or discussions, they mark off the corresponding squares on their bingo cards. 

1. Real-world Application Project:

- Challenge students to find examples of literary devices in advertisements, speeches, or news articles. - Present their findings, discussing how the devices are employed for persuasive or artistic purposes in the real world. 

The frigid wind whipped across Marko's face as he trudged through the knee-deep snow. His numb fingers clutching the straps of his backpack. The storm had hit three days ago, and he was no closer to finding shelter than when he'd started. His food supplies were dwindling. The cold was seeping into his bones like a relentless, icy specter.
"Should've listened to the weatherman," Marko muttered, his chapped lips going numb. He squinted against the blinding white landscape, searching for any sign of life. Any glimmer of hope.
As he pushed forward, his mind wandered to the events that had led him here. The hiking trip had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was a chance to escape the suffocating reality of his failing marriage and dead-end job. He'd packed light, assuming he'd be back in a few days. Now, as the storm raged on, he realized the gravity of his mistake.
A dark shape appeared on the horizon, breaking the monotony of the endless white. Marko's heart leaped, and he quickened his pace. He ignored the burning in his lungs and the numbness in his limbs. As he drew closer, the shape resolved into a small, dilapidated cabin. The roof sagging under the weight of the snow.
Marko stumbled to the door, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the latch. To his surprise, it opened, revealing a dusty interior cast in shadow. He stepped inside, grateful for the reprieve from the biting wind.
The cabin was sparse, with a single room containing a rickety table, a chair, and a small fireplace. Marko dropped his backpack and moved to the fireplace. His eyes widened when he saw the pile of dry firewood stacked beside it.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Is anyone here?"
Silence answered him, broken only by the howling of the wind outside. Marko shrugged and set to work building a fire, his fingers clumsy and uncooperative. After several attempts, a small flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow across the room.
As the fire grew, Marko's gaze fell on the table, where a piece of paper lay, weighted down by a small, rusted key. He picked up the note, his brow furrowing as he read the words scrawled in a shaky hand: "You'll need this. Trust me."
Marko turned the key over in his palm, a sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around the cabin, aware of how isolated he was. Miles from civilization in a raging blizzard.
A soft scratching sound drew his attention to the far wall, where a small door was set into the wood. Marko approached it, the key heavy in his hand. He fitted it into the lock, and with a soft click, the door swung open, revealing a narrow passageway.
Marko hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The passage was dark, the air heavy with the scent of earth and decay. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to barricade the door and wait out the storm. But something else, a whisper in the back of his mind, urged him forward.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the passage, the darkness enveloping him like a shroud. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Marko's breathing echoed in the confined space. It mingled with the soft drip of water and the scurrying of unseen creatures.
As he was about to turn back, the passage opened into a small chamber, lit by a flickering torch set into the wall. In the center of the room stood a stone pedestal, upon which rested a small, ornate box.
Marko approached the pedestal, his hand trembling as he reached for the box. As his fingers brushed the cool metal, a voice spoke from the shadows, making him whirl around in surprise.
"I wondered when you'd arrive," the voice said, low and rasping. A figure stepped into the light, an old man with a long, white beard and piercing blue eyes. "I've been waiting for you, Marko."
Marko stared at the man, his mind reeling. "How do you know my name?" he asked.
The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know many things," he said, moving to stand beside Marko. "I know why you're here, and I know what you seek."
He gestured to the box, his gnarled fingers brushing the intricate carvings. "This box contains the key to your survival," he said, his voice taking on a grave tone. "The path ahead is treacherous, filled with trials that will test your mind, body, and spirit."
Marko swallowed hard, his mouth dry. "What kind of trials?" he asked, his voice trembling.
The old man shook his head, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "I cannot say," he replied, his voice soft. "But know this, Marko. The choices you make from this moment on will determine not only your fate but the fate of all those you hold dear."
With that, the old man stepped back, fading into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. Marko stood alone in the chamber, the box heavy in his hands. The weight of the old man's words settling on his shoulders like a burden.
He took a deep breath and opened the box, his heart pounding in his chest. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lay a small, golden compass, its needle spinning. Marko lifted it from the box, feeling a strange warmth emanating from the metal.
As he watched, the needle slowed, coming to rest on a single point. North. The direction of home, of safety, of all the things he had left behind.
Marko closed his eyes, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. He knew the path ahead would be difficult, that the trials the old man spoke of would push him to his limits. But he also knew that he had no choice but to face them head-on. Fight for his survival and for the chance to make things right.
With a determined nod, Marko slipped the compass into his pocket. He turned back to the passage, ready to face whatever lay ahead. The storm outside raged on. Inside, a flicker of hope burned bright, guiding him forward into the unknown.

1. Imagery: Prompt: Choose a setting (real or imaginary) and describe it using detailed sensory imagery. Imagine the sights, sounds, smells, and textures to create a vivid scene, just like a painter with words.
   
2. Metaphor: Prompt: Compare a personal experience to an everyday object or phenomenon in an unexpected way. For example, "My heart is a compass that always points to the north of your laughter."
   
3. Simile: Prompt: Write a series of similes to express intense emotions. For instance, "As brave as a lion facing the storm, as fragile as a petal in the wind."
   
4. Rhyme: Prompt: Craft a short poem or lyrics with a consistent rhyme scheme. Experiment with different rhyme patterns (ABAB, AABB, etc.) to enhance the musicality of your writing.
   
5. Meter: Prompt: Compose a poem with a specific meter, such as iambic pentameter. Pay attention to the syllabic beats in each line to create a rhythmic flow.
   
6. Alliteration: Prompt: Create a tongue-twisting line using alliteration. Focus on the repetition of initial consonant sounds to add a playful or musical quality to your writing.
   
7. Assonance: Prompt: Write a passage where the vowel sounds within words echo each other. Experiment with different vowel combinations to create a melodic effect.
   
8. Personification: Prompt: Choose an inanimate object and personify it. Describe its actions, thoughts, and emotions as if it were a living being.
   
9. Symbolism: Prompt: Select an object or element and explore its symbolic meaning. Connect it to broader themes or emotions in your writing.
   
10. Enjambment: Prompt: Write a poem where the thoughts flow continuously from one line to the next without a pause. Explore how this technique can create a sense of movement or urgency.
    
11. Repetition: Prompt: Repeat a word or phrase throughout a poem for emphasis. Consider how repetition can enhance the overall impact and meaning of your writing.
    
12. Free Verse: Prompt: Embrace the freedom of expression by writing a poem without adhering to rhyme or meter. Allow your thoughts to flow organically, exploring the beauty of formless verse.
    
13. Stanza: Prompt: Divide your writing into stanzas to create distinct sections with varying themes or tones. Explore how the organization of lines contributes to the overall structure of your work.
    
14. Theme: Prompt: Choose a universal theme (love, loss, freedom, etc.) and explore it through your lyrics. Delve into the nuances and perspectives associated with the chosen theme.
    
15. Tone: Prompt: Write a poem that conveys contrasting tones. Explore how shifts in tone can evoke different emotions and responses from the reader.
    
16. Connotation: Prompt: Select a word with strong connotations and use it in a poem. Explore the emotional baggage and cultural associations tied to the word within the context of your writing.
    
17. Irony: Prompt: Craft a poem with elements of irony. Create situations or lines that convey a meaning opposite to the literal interpretation, adding layers of complexity to your writing.
    
18. Allusion: Prompt: Reference a well-known song, book, or historical event in your lyrics. Explore how the use of allusion can enrich the depth and meaning of your writing.
    
19. Syntax: Prompt: Experiment with sentence structure to create different effects. Play with word order, sentence length, and punctuation to convey specific emotions or rhythms in your writing.
    
20. Diction: Prompt: Choose a specific mood or atmosphere you want to convey and carefully select words that evoke that feeling. Pay attention to the impact of your word choices on the overall tone of your writing.