Currently have a terrible wooden that’s on its last leg. Considering hiring a contractor to replace with concrete or block wall fence. Planning also getting a built in BBQ in my patio. How far should the bbq be the fence? Since it will be a concrete or block wall fence, do you even need any distance since the fence would be non-combustible unlike a wooden fence? Or do you still need a gap to prevent discoloration of the fence from the heat of the bbq?
Thanks

I currently have a bench pr of 175 kg, and is planning to run Smolov Jr so I can push to 185 kg. And so I was just wondering whether I should use 100%, 95%, or 90% of my max to run the program? Also, how should I taper after I finish the program? should I do a few singles and doubles right after the program, then go for 1RM after a few days, or should I just try for a 1RM right after the program? Thanks

Aaron had always been a quiet, thoughtful child, with a love for reading and a vivid imagination. However, his childhood was marred by an unusual adversary: baseballs.
It started when he was six. On a bright spring day, Aaron's father took him to the park to teach him how to play baseball. Aaron was eager to learn, but the ball had other plans. The very first pitch zoomed toward him with a sinister hiss, bouncing off his glove and smacking him squarely on the nose. Blood and tears mingled on Aaron’s cheeks, and he vowed never to go near a baseball again.
But the baseballs weren't content with simply being avoided. In the playground, they seemed to have a life of their own. They rolled underfoot, tripping him when he least expected it. They appeared in his backpack, heavy and malicious, making his journey home from school a cumbersome affair. Worst of all, they found a way into his lunchbox, replacing his beloved sandwiches with their hard, rubbery selves. His classmates laughed as he fished them out, and Aaron’s lunches were ruined, day after day.
One afternoon, Aaron sat alone in the school's grassy yard, his stomach rumbling. He opened his lunchbox, half-expecting to find another baseball. Instead, he found a note, scrawled in childish handwriting: "Stay away from our turf, or else."
Terrified and confused, Aaron spent the next few years avoiding any place where baseballs might lurk. He took up chess, a game devoid of balls, and lost himself in books where the villains were easier to understand. But the memory of those sinister baseballs never left him.
Years passed, and Aaron grew up, but the fear and resentment remained. As an adult, he became a writer, spinning tales of heroic children facing down their fears. Yet, the thought of baseball still sent a shiver down his spine.
One day, while cleaning out his childhood home, Aaron stumbled upon his old lunchbox. Inside, nestled among the dusty relics of his past, was a single baseball. He picked it up, its surface worn and familiar. For a moment, he felt the old fear rising. But then he laughed. He was no longer a scared child; he was an adult who had faced far greater challenges.
That laughter sparked a new idea. Instead of merely overcoming his fear, Aaron decided to confront it head-on. He grabbed an old wooden bat from the attic, a relic from his father’s collection, and took a mighty swing at the baseball. It splintered with a satisfying crack, pieces flying in all directions.
From that day forward, Aaron made it his life mission to rid the world of baseballs. He traveled to parks, playgrounds, and sports fields, armed with his trusty bat. Each swing was a cathartic release, each shattered baseball a triumph over his childhood tormentors. He became known in local circles as the "Baseball Slayer," a legend whispered among kids who, oddly, found him more amusing than alarming.
Through his relentless quest, Aaron found not only a way to conquer his past but also a new purpose. He even wrote a memoir about his experiences, blending humor and determination, inspiring others to face their fears. And every time he stepped onto a field, bat in hand, he smiled, knowing that he had finally defeated the baseballs that once bullied him.

Mr. Cruel is the moniker for an unidentified Australian serial child rapist who terrorized Melbourne, Australia during the late 1980s and early 1990s. Here are the key details about this disturbing case:

• Years Active: Mr. Cruel operated between 1987 and 1990, during which he carried out three confirmed attacks.
• Suspected Murder: He is also the prime suspect in the abduction and murder of a fourth girl named Karmein Chan in 1991.
• Modus Operandi: Mr. Cruel meticulously planned each attack, conducted surveillance on victims and their families, left no forensic traces, and covered his face at all times. He even left red herrings to divert attention from his identity.
• Confirmed Attacks:
  1. Lower Plenty (1987): Armed with a knife and a handgun, he broke into a family home, tied up the parents, and raped an 11-year-old girl.
  2. Ringwood (1988): He abducted a 10-year-old girl after breaking into her home, leaving her bound and gagged. She was released eighteen hours later.
  3. Canterbury (1990): He broke into another family home, molested a 13-year-old girl for fifty hours, and then released her¹.

Despite extensive investigations, Mr. Cruel has never been identified, and his crimes remain unsolved cold cases. The police describe him as highly intelligent, methodical, and elusive. In April 2016, the reward for information leading to his arrest and conviction was increased to A$1,000,000¹. The case continues to haunt both law enforcement and the public.
Case 41: Mr Cruel - Casefile: True Crime Podcast (casefilepodcast.com)
Was Mr. Cruel active before 1987? There has been speculation among the Voctria police about if Mr. Cruel was already active as a serial rapist before the Lowr Plenty attack.
Here's list on 10 home invasion rapes pre-Lower Plenty that are thought to have been the early work of Mr. Cruel by Victoria police:
What is known about Mr. Cruel?

1. Mr. Cruel had forensic knowledge

Mr. Cruel went to great lengths to avoid leaving behind any forensic evidence that detectives could use to catch him. It has therefore been suggested that perhaps he had some level of forensic knowledge.

• Bathed two victims to remove DNA evidence and wiped sinks and benchtops to remove fingerprints
• Transported victim to release site in garbage bags
• Made victims brush teeth and clean nails
• Left no DNA at crime scenes or on victims
• Told Nicola Lynas: “you will be taken to a hospital and they will test you you will be examined by a police surgeon. They’ll be looking for evidence to link me to you and they won’t find anything.”
• Mr. Cruel had access to property under flight path

It is believed the perpetrator had access to a property which was located under one of the two main flight paths into Tullamarine Airport.

• Both Sharon Wills and Nicola Lynas heard planes landing while in captivity. Nicola Lynas told detectives she could hear the planes banking after they passed over her.
• An investigation into flights operating that day determined the likely location of the property as under either the Tullamarine east-west or north-south flight paths.²
• Spectrum Taskforce Head David Sprague said that based on how loud the planes were, they might have been just 400m above the house.
• Police searched 30,000 houses in 15 suburbs including Coolaroo, East Keilor, Niddrie and Westmeadows without luck
• Mr. Cruel followed media about his crimes
• Watched Lynas family press conference with Nicola and spoke to her about it, saying “Think you’re worth $25,000?”
• Went out to buy the Sun and seemed to enjoy the stories about his crimes and the parallels being drawn to other abductions
• Photos of at least two of Mr. Cruel’s victims appeared in newspaper articles in the leadup to their attack.

Mr. Cruel videotaped his victims:

• Sharon saw a wooden tripod at the foot of the bed she was held in
• Mr. Cruel used red herrings
• Pretended to talk to an accomplice during Lynas abduction
• Pretended to be seeking $25,000 ransom during Lynas abduction
• Pretended to make a phone call during Lower Plenty home invasion
• Pretended to be looking for money during Lower Plenty, Wills and Lynas attack
• Spraypainted Chan’s car with words ‘Pay-back Asian drug dealer. More anon. More to come.’

Mr. Cruel listened to radio

• Left radio on 3TT throughout Wills attack
• Played KZFM in his car during Lynas attack, and had radio on in his bedroom
• Brought in radio and tuned it to 3KZ in Lower Plenty attack to mask sounds of attack

Mr. Cruel’s lifestyle gave him freedom of movement at certain times

• Slept in until 10am during the Lynas attack on a Wednesday morning in July 1990
• Was unshaven during Lower Plenty attack in August 1987
• Abductions of Sharon Wills, Nicola Lynas and Karmein Chan occurred in or leading up to school holidays
• Was able to conduct extensive stalking and surveillance in the lead up to his attacks

Mr. Cruel’s language

• Used terms “bozo” “worry wart” “yous” and “missy” to his victims.
• Lower Plenty victim and Lynas described his voice as ‘deep’ ‘gruff’ ‘uneducated’
• Wills family described him as ‘no accent, well spoken, fluent English’ suggesting that he was Australian
• “You’re not going to be a hero are you?” to John Wills, “Think you’re worth $25,000?” to Nicola Lynas; “Do you feel brave?” to Lower Plenty victims
  
• Mr. Cruel could tie knots
  
• Knots used by sailors, truck drivers, farmers and fishermen.
  
• Was confident enough in his knots to leave adult victims tied up in other rooms
  
• Apparently was able to tie knots while wearing gloves
  

Mr. Cruel almost certainly had prior criminal or tactical experience

• Controlled multiple adult victims in Wills and Lower Plenty attacks
• Cut phone lines
• Always parked car around corner or in front of vacant blocks to avoid detection
• Entered via various means: removing window pane with knife, forcing roll-out window, pushing key through lock
• Had weapons and handcuffs
• Carried a kit containing housebreaking implements and restraints³
• Evidence of planning suggests offender spent time conducting reconnaissance and surveillance on his victims.⁴

Mr. Cruel possessed a gun

• Lower Plenty family described his gun as a small black pistol-style handgun.
• Wills family described a dark-coloured handgun with a square grip, a squarish barrel with a silver bit at the end, possibly a pistol.
• The Lynas sisters described the gun as a gun with a silver barrel and a brown wooden handle.
• Karmein Chan was shot with either a .22 calibre weapon (according to Andrew Rule and John Silvester in The Age in Sep 1999) or a .38 calibre weapon (according to the Herald Sun in May 1992)

Mr. Cruel’s physical appearance

• Mr Cruel went to extraordinary lengths to ensure he was not seen by his victims and descriptions varied
• Lower Plenty description: aged mid 20s. Australian. 178cm to 183cm tall, slim to medium build with brown, greyish/white hair with white spots in it. Greyish/white bushy eyebrows. Unshaven, with a couple of days growth. Oval face, soft hands, possibly right handed. Wearing blue denim jeans, good condition, close fitting, a brown tweed sports jacket, a blue nylon waterproofed zip up jacket, blue runners with white flashes down the side, white soles in good condition and white cotton socks. Navy blue balaclava with an open face and some type of material covering the eye area. Dishwashing or surgical gloves light in colour, possibly yellow.⁵
• Wills attack description: Australian. 173cm to 180cms tall, thin to medium build. Had either a moustache or whiskers, possibly an early beard growth. Aged mid 20s to 30s. Right-handed. Hairy chest. Wearing a dark coloured boiler suit, gloves and a dark coloured ski mask or balaclava which had eye and mouth holes and white stitching around the eye and mouth holes, possibly with red stitching as well.⁶
• Lynas attack description: just under 170cm (though Nicola’s sister estimated his height at 182cm), well built, slightly big stomach, like a beer belly. No body odour; hands felt hairy with rough skin and shortish fingernails; arms were quite solid and stocky with fine hair; that he had fine hair on his chest and no hair on his back.⁷
• Mr. Cruel took trophies from his victims

Mr. Cruel stole several distinctive items from victims including:

• Ecuadorean Shirt Company parka with fake black fur collar
• a gold diamond engagement ring with the number 4132 stamped inside
• classic gold record set by London Philharmonic Orchestra
• Rosemary Lynas’ driver’s licence, Medicare card and credit card
• Ken Done beach bag
• A PLC summer uniform, tracksuit pants and school jumper
• A Melbourne football club beanie

Mr. Cruel’s car
During the Dec 1988 and July 1990 abductions of Sharon Wills and Nicola Lynas, Mr. Cruel transported his victims in a car:

• It was a four-door vehicle with carpeted floor, bucket seats, a low glove box and a floor gear shift
• The vehicle smelt clean but sounded old and he had trouble starting it
• The floor carpet, front door, arm rest and press down lock were all cream coloured
• He told both girls the car was stolen, which may suggest the car was not in fact stolen
• On the night Sharon was released, a White Commodore Vacationer sedan with three blue stripes along the side was seen acting suspiciously nearby
• Three independent witnesses have reported seeing a ‘van’ near Karmein Chan’s house, and a ‘ute’ or ‘truck’ where her remains were discovered – NB these sightings have not been verified by police

Familiarity with certain areas in Eastern and Northern suburbs
Mr. Cruel left his victims in secluded locations, that he must have been familiar with. It is likely that he had previously lived, worked, or visited these locations at some point.

• Bayswater Secondary College, near Dandenong Creek
• Thomastown terminal station, near Edgars Creek

FBI Profile of Mr Cruel

On 24 April 1991, the FBI provided the following profile of Mr Cruel to Victoria police based on their ‘research and investigative experience in similar cases’:

• he may reside or work in proximity to his first and last known attacks i.e. Lower Plenty, Templestowe.
• he is likely to be employed or involved with a school due to the use of school uniforms and timing in school holidays (though NB the Lower Plenty attack and abduction of Nicola Lynas did not occur during Victorian school holidays)
• he will appear genuinely dedicated to students and this may have been recognised with awards which seem to make him above suspicion
• he will have kept home-made pornography including of his victims
• he is a functional individual with steady employment, is generally regarded as a good neighbour, polite, quiet, somewhat introverted, and may be involved in community projects
• if he has a partner they will have been away during the time of his attacks and will know of his sexual dysfunctions, use of pornography and schoolgirl uniforms etc.
• those around him may have noticed changes in behaviour during and after attacks, including uncharacteristic use of alcohol, interest in religion, missing work or appearing distant and preoccupied

The FBI profile was criticised by forensic psychologist Ian Joblin and other local experts as simplistic and potentially off target at the time of its public release in April 1992.
Credit: Who is Mr Cruel? – Website dedicated to unmasking Melbourne child predator Mr Cruel
What are the others attacks thought to have been committed by Mr. Cruel?
1.) The abduction and sexual assault of a 14 year old girl in Hampton in February 1985.
2.) The sexual assault of a 30 year old woman in her Warrandyte home on 4 December 1985.
3.) The sexual assault of a 30 or 35 year old woman in her Donvale home on 6 December 1985.
4.) The sexual assault of a woman in Greensborough in March 1987.
5.) The sexual assault of woman in Greensborough in August 1987
6.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Hawthorn between 1985-1987.
7.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Brighton between 1985-1987.
8.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Caulfield between 1985-1987 (unknown if this is the crime referenced in this newspaper article in which a woman was abducted from her Caulfield home on 16 February 1986 and driven to Chelsea Heights).
9.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Dingley between 1985-1987.
10.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Dingley between 1985-1987.
Mr. Cruel documentary: Mr. Cruel: The Mystery Murderer Of Melbourne - YouTube

TLDR; advice on how to beat restore old crappy bowl
Hello! My family had an old wooden bowl we would keep as a general holder for our living room table when I was growing up. After several years and a couple of moves, it has since cracked in many spots, and dried out a crazy amount.
I know the repair job won’t be perfect considering the damage but I want it to at least be functional and not on the edge of breaking anymore. It’s more sentimental than anything else
Can I get some comments and helpful advice?
The current plan is…
1) Rehydrate slowly for a week or two with several coats of mineral oil (already done and the color change is absurd lol)
2) sand down all the rough spots and basic surface to freshen things up (it was basically hand carved with a chisel from what I can tell)
3) mix the sanded wood with wood glue to try and help color match and and fill in all the weird gaps. Then sand again.
4) repeat step 3 until it looks okay
5) finer grit sanding then mineral oil and some wax to lock in moisture
Let me know if there is something I should change!!!

Secret Dragon - Chapter 2: Ignite
I opened the book and skimmed through a few chapters, happy to finally see some true information, with substance. Although I had many books of my own, I had never brought any of them to class; I had no intention of being asked about them or pressing the issue.
By virtue of my existence, it and I would be scrutinized. I had neither the patience nor the desire for another microscope to be placed above me.
But Sasha had no such reservations even after I told him about the curriculum, although he relented and said he would figure out a way around that nonsense. It seemed as if he was determined to go against the grain.
We spoke deeply, about different subjects, our project, and his books. The more he talked the more at ease he became. I unknowingly got closer and closer to him as the time passed. I had to literally pull myself back a few times. I wondered if he noticed. It was confusing how I kept leaning into the heat coming off his breath.
We were both startled at the sound of chairs scraping. We looked around as our peers gathered their things.
“It seems that for the first time this class is actually worth my time. Usually I am the first to leave,” Sasha said, surprised.
“I know,” I revealed.
“Hmmm,” he vocalized deeply. I had no idea if it was “oh really” or “interesting” or any other answer. It was just a deep throat vibration. I just knew he would do that a lot. I could feel it.
As I was packing my things, I realized I was a little feverish. I put a hand to my cheek. Was it hot? Or was it that he was speaking heat in my direction? I couldn’t tell. I never ran hot.
He watched me touching my face and chuckled to himself, putting away his books. I really wanted to be annoyed—at anyone else I would have been—but his lighthearted laughter surprised me; so joyous after so many weeks of being a specter in the classroom.
I looked him in his eyes, though, and shook my head challengingly at him, as if to say “what?” That only made him laugh out loud. It was both quiet and bassy all at the same time. The kind of laugh that was bottomless, scratchy. The kind of laugh you could tell would boom and shake you if given the space.
I never thought I’d hear that coming from him, let alone directed at me. I refrained from expressing an iota of emotion beyond a small smile. I had to stay cool.
Pam walked over to our table swiftly, no doubt looking to be rid of Jonah. She smiled at Sasha, grinned really.
“So. We finally meet! Pam Swiftwater,” she chirped. Her hand shot out as fast as she walked. Sasha halted his movement. He extended his hand more slowly, gently, engulfing her delicate hands in his large ones.
“Of course. I am Sasha Emberscale,” Sasha said, pulling his hand back to pat his chest.
Pam gave me a knowing glance of drama. “Oh I know who you are,” she said.
“Likewise; you are in my open physical hour,” he reminded her. “You are on the track team.”
“That’s right! It’s nice to finally, officially, meet you.”
Sasha raised his brow at her. “My friend has spoken of you,” he said offhand.
“What friend?” Pam asked, taken aback.
“Seth Fairbreeze, dragon of the wind.”
“Oh?” Pam said, her interest piqued. I didn’t know whether she knew who that was. But it intrigued both of us nonetheless.
“I will introduce you, of course, now that we are properly acquainted.”
“I can’t wait.” I knew she couldn’t.
Pam glanced back at her table and groaned. “Let’s get out of here. If I have to talk to Jonah any longer, I swear Imma strangle him.”
Sasha laughed heartily. “Very well. Let us depart this place to avoid attempted murder,” he joked.
“Why don’t you stick with us? We’re in the same course after this,” I suggested, gathering my items. I didn’t even hesitate asking him that. I’d done enough hesitating.
Sasha’s laugh tapered off into a quiet chuckle. “Of course. I would desire nothing more.”
I couldn’t hide my elation this time. Pam snickered at me. Thankfully he didn’t notice. I assumed.
Sasha draped his jacket across his arm, opting not to put it back on. Admittedly I enjoyed the view. He gestured for us to exit the class before him.
Every once in a while he would look down at me as we walked through the halls. I noticed his eyes following me.
I would sneak a glance at him when he wasn’t looking. It was apparent just how large he was now that I was walking right next to him. He was one of the only people in school taller than me. His shoulders were broad, arms thick. I know I was staring at the way they flexed as he moved. Couldn’t help but to.
Everything in me wanted to take that arm of his for my own. The thought of it being mine just felt so natural. I had to check myself a few times walking beside him.
It would be mine in time. That I promised myself.
—
We entered our Dragontongue class where I took a seat on his right at a table. Pam sat at mine.
Class with Sasha was much more interesting than ever before. He spoke freely and pleasantly, a stark contrast to the silent dragon he had been before I sat at his table in Dragonology. It was like something that had weighed on him had vanished.
I wasn’t unaware that he was happier since we had talked. I was pleased that it was me that had pulled him out of whatever darkness was holding him.
Again a pang of irritation ran through me. Why had I not introduced myself before? Just hearing the depth of his voice and the eloquence of his speech had me feeling some type of way. I could have been hearing that in my ears for weeks, those words of his carried on desert sands.
As class droned on, I saw that Sasha was appraising the professor with a raised brow as if too polite to allow complete disdain across his face.
He began to tell us about different Dragontongue dialects quietly, I suppose to keep himself occupied or distracted. I had to lean all the way in to hear his voice. It reverberated in my ears.
“If you were to say that word in the southern regions of Lyfax, it would mean to place bricks or stones atop each other as if building something. If you said that in the northeastern region, it means much the same, but doubles as a slang word meaning to fu— I am sorry, to have relations with someone.”
Pam squealed and covered her mouth. I covered mine too. I had wanted to hear the word ‘fuck’ come out of his polite mouth.
“Are you serious?” I asked instead.
“Yes, I am,” he said, brow raised. “Take care in who you say it to and in what context.”
Sasha tapped another paragraph “This term here. If you were to say it in the Northernmost tip of the country, it is basically calling someone a piece of filth in the wrong context, while just a few regions down it simply means to clean something without any further colloquial use. Their origins most likely started off with the same meaning and deviated as the people left and settled elsewhere. Knowing different dialects of Dragontongue in Lyfax is important. Linguistics interests me, as you can probably surmise.”
“Do you speak a lot of languages?” Pam asked.
“I occasionally travel for my work and interact with different dignitaries. I must know many languages and dialects at least at a rudimentary level.”
“Oh wow…” I said, truly impressed. Now that I had listened to his voice, I couldn’t place his accent. Unless deep was one. It wasn’t as if I was familiar with Lyfaxians’ manner of speech or various accents anyway. “What do you speak?” I asked
“Hmmmm. Common Lyfaxian. Common Lizardtongue. Dragontongue, of course; several dialects: fire, moon and wind. Many people know these. Shelltongue. Salamandra…one other.”
“Goodness,” I said in awe. I stashed away that “one other.” I’d ask about it later. I couldn’t imagine why it would be a secret. Hypocritically.
“My speech is not perfect in Shelltongue or Salamandra yet. But I can hold a conversation. I would enjoy learning and speaking your dialect of Dragontongue, as you mentioned earlier,” he remarked to me. Of course, Pam regarded me in shock. She gave me a chiding look, rightfully so.
Sasha didn’t miss her reaction. “If it is trouble, do not worry about it,” he said, frowning.
“No, It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I don’t mind.”
He was still uncertain, looking at Pam’s concerned face. “If I am to converse with a new group of dragons, I would prefer to know their dialect,” he whispered. “But not if it is cause for alarm. For some reason.”
Pam sighed in relief upon hearing him refer to me as a dragon. “Oh okay.”
“It’s fine. Complicated. I’ll tell you later,” I said, waving it all away. Sasha nodded.
“So did you all decide on a topic for your assignment?” Pam asked.
“Of course. We spoke much of it. I look forward to working with Leila.” Sasha said. I liked the way he said my name, the way he swung the vowels upward to where they needed to go. As it should be. “It will be interesting,” he said.
Pam glanced over to me. “How so?”
I looked amused, I’m sure. “Let’s say our Dragonology topic is about to be spicy,” I hinted.
“Sasha you’re a horrible influence already,” she accused, raising her brows at him.
“Of course,” he confirmed, chuckling deeply. “One needs a little corruption in the right direction, every once in a while.”
“Corruption? Oh really?” I said, regarding him in what I intended to be mock surprise. But I was genuinely shocked that he said it. He hadn’t corrupted me yet. He could try, but only when I was through with him.
Sasha chuckled silently. Just a trembling of the shoulders. A soft billow of scalding heat wafting across my face. Mmm, maybe sooner then.
Pam’s eyes widened, but she was beyond amused. If she could manifest a snack to observe our rapidly forming dynamic, she would have in a heartbeat.
She sat back, twirling her pencil. I knew she was about to start something. The twitch in the corner of her mouth was working. She was about to instigate her heart out. I groaned quietly.
“You know, Leila speaks all the same languages you do. She’s fluent in Shelltongue even; one of her best friends is Turtlefolk. She works at a place where a lot of people from different places come through. She took it upon herself to learn their languages.”
I groaned more.
“Is that so?” Sasha inquired, angling his body toward me. He sounded impressed.
I just rubbed my brows. I did not advertise my language skills. He looked at me with interest. “That is admirable. Why do you not wish to speak of it?” he asked.
“I don’t like puffing myself up. Drawing attention. Not that you are doing that,” I clarified.
Sasha smiled. “I know what you meant,” he said, speaking Shelltongue. I grinned. “I have been somewhat successful at not drawing attention—past my appearance at least—for a few weeks now.”
“Except your grades of course,” I pointed out in Shelltongue as well. “Literally perfect grades except two, and that’s only because of inaccuracies.”
Sasha raised his brow. “Ah, right, you have been keeping tabs on my marks. Very well; I have been under the radar except for my marks.”
“See? Y’all can speak tongues to each other in every flavor,” Pam said casually.
My mouth dropped. To say my eyes widened would be an understand. I shielded the side of my face.
Sasha choked and laughed quietly, holding his chest.
Never had she been that brazen. And she had said some crazy ass things for as long as I’d know her.
She looked so proud of herself.
“Pam, you are trying to start something, are you not?” Sasha guessed—back in Lizardtongue—looking away in laughter.
“Of course not. I don’t know what you mean,” she said, smirking.
I rubbed my face. “What were we even talking about?”
Sasha spoke as quietly as he could. “Different languages. Dialects. Things of that nature. Tongues, apparently,” he said, leaning toward me.
Really Sasha? I thought. He was something else.
He leaned back again and looked ahead, his smile dimming. “Also, things your professor apparently will not teach,” he said, the scales of his brows beginning to furrow.
“Yeah. It’s frustrating,” I agreed, uncovering my face.
“This class is testing my endurance. To hear my language butchered and be told that the proper way is incorrect is vexing.”
Pam stared at the professor, then at Sasha. “I’m sorry. This class is far beneath how you—and we—speak.”Pam and the rest of the Swiftwater Clan spoke to my family in the True way, the way of Sun Dragons.
Sasha leaned back. “And yet I have no choice but to be here,” he remarked. “And, apparently, neither do you both.”
It was a painful requirement, but a mandatory one. I nodded.
Pam turned back to the front of class. “You must be bored here at this university,” she said.
Sasha rubbed his chin. “Hmmmm,” he rumbled deeply. The vibration of that inquisitive hum made my shoulders tingle. I had to close my eyes and put a hand to my chest to halt my heart’s pounding.
“I was, yes,” he said slowly, “but yesterday was my last day of boredom. Today, the season has changed.” He glanced at me as he said it.
My mouth twitched into a smile. I found his choice of words particularly appealing. Pam looked curiously at him, but said nothing.
Sasha angled his body back toward me. I don’t know if I imagined it, but it felt like his whole existence was radiating heat now. It sent rush through my body.
“Let us return to our ‘lesson’ and pretend to care,” he suggested.
“Sasha,” I laughed, nudging his arm. It was hot to the touch. I was not imagining it.
“What?” he said innocently.
I shook my head at him, incredulous. I had no idea he was so funny. Who would have thought that sullen dragon was full of humor. He relented.
“I will behave myself,” he lied through his fanged teeth, patting his chest.
“Doubtful,” I returned, amused. It was easy to talk to him. Like we were old friends. Sasha was right: Pam had started something.
—
Sasha continued pointing out more language dialect rules and vocabulary from Lyfax. Things we couldn’t have learned on our own.
There were so many regions to learn about. I listened intently as he described them, and asked questions about everything. It was as if he was taking me on a mental tour of those far away places…
Before that day we hadn’t said a word to each other. Hadn’t shaken hands or anything. Whenever we had met eyes, we would quickly look away. I didn’t understand why we had done that. Now here we were hunched over a text book with our heads damn near touching. The heat of his breath warmed my face. It was hotter than earlier that day. Much hotter. No one was close enough to be bothered by it but Pam, and she did not seem to react to it.
And still I kept on gravitating closer. Because of how he had angled his body toward me, my left arm eventually pressed against his right.
My breathing stuttered, being in such close proximity to him. And I knew he felt it. He had to have felt it. Because I felt him tremble.
And there it was again! That strange rumble emanating from him, from his throat, I could now tell. Now that I was touching him, it was amplified, coursing through me. I tried to pinpoint its essence. It was very much like a growl, the crackling of a fire. And a hum; it reminded me of the way he responded to things without words. Hmmm.
All of it together was a magnetic song. I couldn’t help but listen. Let it lull me into a dream.
I wandered from the lesson for a moment to imagine what it would be like to just feel all of it pressed up against my chest. To embrace him and the heat he radiated.
I wanted to feel his fire whipping around me, not just the heat off him. To embrace a cascade of his flames. washing over me, engulfing me fully.
What would kissing Sasha be like? By the Goddess, the thought of drinking his fire until the persistent ice inside me melted was too tantalizing. If only I could just taste his breath inside my mouth… I wanted to look into his throat where I knew a flickering flame lie in wait. To explore it. Mmm.
It was like some deep ancestral memory was awakening. My breathing grew heavier. I swear to the goddess I heard his breath do the same. Except his breathing was punctuated by the rumbling crackle right under it. I knew he was in the same place I was.
I had to close my eyes and turn my head away from the heat coming off the words from his mouth. Because if I didn’t I would do something about it in that classroom—
“Leila?”
I emerged from my other world, his voice having shaken me from my daydream. I looked back to him.
“Class is over,” he rumbled into my ear quietly, the hotness washing over my neck and face. I rubbed those intense thoughts from my brows but they lingered everywhere else. I inhaled deeply and set about gathering my stuff. My hands shook.
Something hot brushed down my arm as he got up to gather his things. I looked down to see his claw drifting away from it. I thought it was an accident until he glanced at me. He smiled faintly though his brows were intense.
“Let us go,” he said gently, nodding toward the door.
“Okay,” I said, my eyebrow raising in interest. I slipped my bag over my shoulder. When he turned toward the door, I touched the trail of burning scales where he’d run his finger. When I say I could not breathe… I covered my mouth, then just rubbed my face with both hands. I didn’t know what to do. Mercy.
Looking around, my peers were also preparing to leave, so I composed myself the best I could and followed Sasha through the doorway.
—-
Dragontongue had been our last class of the day—”wow, you want that Dragontongue real bad huh?”Pam said— and it was time for us to part ways.
She chatted with Sasha, and I examined him while he was distracted.
I followed his gestures and mannerisms, wondering how he could weave such a spell over me that day. My behavior and my carefully curated facade were usually well under my control, perfected to give nothing away but pleasantness. But this dragon…
What I thought had been a perfect program was utterly interrupted. And the funny thing was, I wasn’t even mad at it. It was a break from the rigidity and monotony of my endless time at school. A break from my own reluctance to invite unknowns to myself, even those I desired. Like him.
For the first time in my life I thought ‘this is what the Sun must feel like to everyone else.’
From the moment I knew myself, my body had been cold. It was a point of contention between me, my parents and my Clan, all the Sun Clans. My mother was literally the leader of the Sun Dragons. And we, Sunscales, were Prime. Named directly after the Goddess.
People thought I was sickly. Anemic they called me. Even worse, some thought I was cursed. Most thought I wasn’t fit to be a leader in the future.
I did not let it stop me. I aimed for absolute perfection to stave off any doubt. Even at the expense of my own happiness sometimes.
My cold scales did not bother me. Although, at times, I wondered if I would be that way forever.
But now, I had felt Sasha’s warmth. This dragon had actually apologized in our first class for giving me the heat I never felt outside of putting my whole hand in a woodfire. It lingered in my scales as if they had drank it. They had awakened from a cold slumber.
I couldn’t go back.
I touched my arm that had been pressed against his, where his claw had grazed. Still hot to the touch. In fact everywhere he had breathed on, been near or looked at blazed. He had touched other things, shook hands with peers, finally, spoken to Pam, and none reacted as if he was exuding endless fire. Just me. Just for me.
“It has been a good day. You two have been so welcoming,” he said graciously. I was broken from my musings, realizing he was leaving. “I hope we continue to be friends during my time here.”
“For sure,” I said without hesitation, a little breathlessly. I didn’t want him to leave. He smiled warmly at me, almost in relief.
Pam smiled too. “Same,” she said. She began to rummage in her bag.
“It was nice to finally meet you,” he said softly to me. He put his hand out. I took it in mine. It was even hotter than before, unless I imagined it. I again put my other hand on top of his as if taking the warmth from it, to hold till later.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I let my thumb slide over the scales on the back of his hand. I didn’t even realize at first. But then I looked up and noticed Sasha was staring at me with his brow raised.
Gods, I could have died right there. Melted right into the floor and fallen into the void.
I almost pulled my hand in embarrassment, but he did not seem startled or upset. Instead Sasha placed his other hand atop mine. His face became intense for a moment, then softened. It seemed that neither of us wanted to let go. We did, though. The moment was brief, but it held much.
Pam, who had glanced up at us, had a barely concealed grin spreading over her face. She broke the spell that had drifted over us.
“Thank you for teaching us all that extra stuff about different dialects. I especially like that ridiculous word with the bricks,” she said, breaking the tense air.
Sasha shook his head as if clearing it. “Of course. I thought you might find that one amusing,” he said. He glanced at his phone, which had vibrated.
“You can lay your bricks on me anytime,” I mumbled to myself, still feeling the heaviness of that moment in my chest. I couldn’t help myself, saying that. I knew good and well it was provocative. I knew he might hear me. My mouth simply didn’t care. It was going to get me in trouble, I just knew it. I stared at my hand in wonder. It felt like fire had spread over it. What was he doing to me? Did he even realize that he was doing something? It didn’t seem like it.
In that same vein, Sasha didn’t say anything; he hadn’t been paying attention, I thought. Probably for the best. But then I heard him say something under his breath.
“Wow,” he whispered, silently laughing. I looked up at him. He covered his eyes, his shoulders shaking.
“Oh shit,” I said, covering my eyes as well.
Pam looked up. “What?” she asked, startled.
Sasha tried his best to keep a straight face, but it was impossible. He just laughed aloud then, a laugh that shook me to the core.
“Shut up,” I said, also laughing. I shielded my face in my hand as if I could hide from the embarrassment.
“I have said nothing,” he pointed out, his hands up.
“Please, please, let’s pretend I didn’t just say that shit,” I pleaded with him.
Pam’s eyes widened. “Oh my gods, what?”
“I will not say, Pam, yet I will never forget it,” Sasha said, smiling widely.
“What?” I replied, shocked.
“I will never forget it,” he repeated.
“By the Goddess Sasha. Are you serious?”
Sasha rubbed his eyes, still chuckling occasionally. “I am. Would you, if you were in my position?”
“Oh my gods,” I said weakly, still covering the side of my face.
Sasha patted his hand on his chest. “Gods, truly I needed today, desperately. It is no trouble to me, that you have said this. Certainly not. Unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend to, but we will discuss this permanent memory later, Leila Sunscale,” he said.
“Yeah, I bet,” I groaned, my voice shakey. I covered my face more. I was out of my mind, surely.
I heard Sasha begin to walk away, but his footsteps slowed. He hesitated, I guessed.
“Leila, do you have plans today?" he asked.
I looked up. He was looking at me expectantly. I couldn’t even say anything. I was still reeling from my ridiculous blunder. Now he wanted to see me! “What? I… umm—“
“No she doesn’t have plans,” Pam spoke up. Bless her.
Sasha smiled. “Perhaps we can speak of our project. I will find you later this evening as long as you are outside. I apologize for my abrupt departure but I must go.”
“Okay, cool,” I said. I rubbed my forehead.
He walked to the exit and looked back at me. “Perhaps we can build something later; I am not a bad mason, Leila Sunscale,” he said, chin raised. My mouth dropped. This dragon…
He let out a deep laugh and left. I watched him disappear through the doors of the hall, then followed him out. I saw a flash of red turn a corner into another building, vanishing from my sight.
"No he didn’t," I said in disbelief. "Did you hear what he just said?" I asked incredulously, gesturing toward his exit.
“What the hells did you say Leila?”
“I may have said a little something about bricks under my breath but his ass heard me. My gods.”
“Are you serious? Girrrrl," Pam said, shaking her head. “The gall on you.”
"Why did I say that? I must be crazy." I placed my hand over my forehead. Hot.
"I mean, he liked it," Pam said. "He thought it was funny. See, no harm done. If anything it sounds like Sasha has some business with you Leila," she teased.
I rubbed my face. I couldn't believe that I had run my mouth like that. In the other hand, I was pleased to have been so reckless. It had led me down this path. My scales prickled despite my embarrassment. Why should I feel bad now? He took my accidental flirtations as an invitation. And wasn’t that what I wanted?
Pam’s demeanor softened.
“Hey, for weeks you’ve been talking about how attracted you are to him. He turned out to be super nice, and he has a sense of humor, too. I like him. Fate is smiling on you again.”
"You sound like my mother," I noted.
“That's 'cause she's always right, isn’t she?" Pam pointed out, brow raised.
“Fine… She is,” I conceded. She would have said those words. In truth I had heard her say them many times.
Resigned to my fate, I stepped into the quad with Pan. I walked into a shaft of sunlight and sat on the bench it spilled onto, the Sun’s rays warming me. I closed my eyes against them, basking.
“I may as well go study while I wait for him. I can’t believe this is happening,” I remarked.
“Well believe it. Your bricklayer is seeing you today,” Pam teased.
“Pam, for real?” I remarked, opening my eyes.
“What? Come on. We can both go study.” Pam hugged me. She looked puzzled though.
“Leila. You feel hot. You never run hot. You’re not having a stroke are you?” she asked, alarmed.
“No. That’s just because he sat next to me the whole day,” I revealed. And breathed on me, leaned on me… I shut my eyes, wishing I had lied.
Pam nodded, not noticing my apprehension. “Oh okay. That makes sense. We did just get out of class. I didn’t know fire dragons were like that just idly,” she mused. “Let’s get on out of here.”
I wanted to tell her what I really felt. But I was sure it would sound crazy. Maybe I would after I met him and spoke to him. Privately.

We walked together through the courtyard. I glanced through the windows of various buildings looking for red scales moving in the halls. I saw nothing, of course.
We ended up going to the library. The room was large and made of ironwood. Small nooks with tables were tucked away amongst large shelves full of tomes.
We chose a table with a window next to it.
I studied as attentively as I could, trying to occupy my mind. But I could not stop seeing Sasha in my vision. Pam gave up trying to get me to engage in conversations with her. Instead I studied for the assignment in Dragonology on my laptop, and daydreamed.
—
“It’s getting late. You don’t know when Sasha will be looking for you.” Pam said, shaking me from my focus.
The light from the windows had waned somewhat, giving way to the Sun readying for slumber.
“Oh, right. I was deep into this essay here. I wish I had borrowed his books and saved my eyes,” I said, rubbing them.
Pam yawned as we packed our things, hefting her bag up. “I’m going to head home. Tell me how everything goes. Tell me if y’all build a house!”
“Pam!” I gasped. “Oh my gods.”
“Love you! Bye!” Pam called, rushing off.
—
I strolled around the grounds reading a book, looking up at the Sun every once in a while. But I didn’t spot Sasha anywhere. I hoped that I had not missed him. I had studied a bit longer than I intended.
Eventually I sat on a bench to wait. I would wait until dusk settled. And if he didn’t show I would see him the following day. It was not as if we had exchanged our numbers.
I pulled out my notebook full of writings, poetry, doodles. It was just one volume from a collection of filled books over the duration of my life, where I pressed flowers of my heart through its pages.
Before I could put pen to paper, I paused.
I put away my old faithful journal and pulled out a new one in deep red. It was not a coincidence by any stretch. I had stared at it on the shelves of an art store until I gave in and bought it.
I hadn’t written one thing in it since. After all, I hadn’t known him, and didn’t want to write only about his appearance. I wanted to know what he was made of. Now, having met Sasha, the red book was begging for ink.
So I let myself fall into a rhythm. So many elements of Sasha had revealed themselves to me that day: this dragon’s voice, his heat, his mannerisms. The words he said, the way he said them, his sense of humor hidden under all that seriousness.
I searched my brain and gathered up all my own words, sifted through them. I wrote a few things here and there, but nothing like what I wanted.
I looked up toward the Sun for some bit of inspiration, and my breath caught. A red form flew in front of it, wings beating. Seeing Sasha framed in that circle of fire was more than I could have hoped for. I stared up at him flying until he stopped, scanning for something.
The moment of inspiration I had been searching for was right there. I spoke aloud what I had and wrote it as swiftly as my claws could move:
“A dragon in a Circle. An Inferno wrapped in the Sun A scarlet vision framed in fire A cloud of embers in the Goddess’s hands She Holds all of him out toward me The gift of a flame within a flame “
I dropped my pen and covered my mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my gods what am I writing?” I asked myself. I stared at the words.
I turned my head to read them as if a new perspective would make them less mortifying.
“Hmm,” I muttered. “Needs some work but…’A flame within a flame.’ That’s some good shit.”
I looked back up. Sasha’s gaze swept over me then away. I waved my arm up at him, bangles jangling, hoping he saw me so he wouldn’t be looking all around all day.
When Sasha looked back in my direction he stopped where he was. He descended slowly until he locked eyes with me. My heart pounded again. It was driving me up the wall, the anxiety. Or rather anticipation. I pressed my hand to my chest watching him grow closer. His wings were huge, blocking out the Sun.
I had been staring at Sasha from a distance since he had arrived, his very first day. He was imposing, the way he had entered my classes, but exceptionally polite. I had been silently competing with him since laying eyes on his grades.
Now the distance was finally closed after my nervousness had kept me away. I folded my notebook shut and stood as Sasha landed with a woosh of air.
I looked upon him not as a mysterious figure in the back of class but as a new friend. More. I couldn’t help but smile when he straightened his already straight clothes as he moved toward me.
He smiled right back at me, chin raised.
“Leila,” he said.
“Sasha. Hey,” I replied.
“So,” he said, “you spoke of bricks earlier,” he teased.
My mouth dropped again. This dragon…
“You aren’t letting that go are you?” I asked.
“Never. Even if nothing ever came of it, I would never forget.”
“By the gods,” I muttered.
“I am not complaining,” he clarified.
My eyes widened. Then it occurred to me that he had insinuated something would come of it. Goddess, I felt my own fire sweep across my cheeks. I was so flustered I covered my mouth with the heel of my palm letting my claws settle over my cheek. I couldn’t stop the motion fast enough.
Sasha laughed good naturedly. Sweetly, even. “I will stop teasing. For now,” he said.
“For now?” I repeated past my palm.
“For now.”
I lowered my hand. “You are a trip, do you know that?” I said, raising my eyebrow. Even though I had been nervous, actually talking to him made me feel like meeting all his words head on.
He gestured for me to walk beside him without answering. I did. I almost took his arm again, so I clutched my notebook to my chest to keep my hands in check. We didn’t say much as we walked along the quad together.
Some students were staring at us as we walked. I suppose we made quite the pair together.
“It appears we are a bit of a spectacle,” he muttered to himself curiously, agreeing with my thoughts.
I couldn’t help stealing glances at him every once in a while.
His posture was impecable. He held his left hand behind his back. The other lingered in front of his chest as if ready for something. I didn’t know how else to describe it. It was interesting, that pose; deliberate. I saw that he had rings on his fingers as well. I had not noticed them before. They were red like his scales, rough hewn. The overall pose made him seem so stately.
I couldn’t quite describe his expression. It was both intense and peaceful all at once.
He caught me staring one time, though. He was looking right at me when I peeked. I turned away and put a hand to my face. I hoisted up my bag.
“Here,” he said.
I turned back. “Here what?” I asked.
He put his hand out to me, gesturing toward my bag. I stopped walking.
“Oh. Okay. Such a gentleman,” I said, a smile playing on my face, impressed. He chuckled to himself, accepting my compliment.
I slipped my bag from my shoulder, and he took it to hold on his elbow. We started walking again. I didn’t care after that; I looked at him openly, a little bit enamored.
‘Ok Mr. Sasha Emberscale. I see you,’ I thought.
PART 2

As the title states I am going to be adhering my carpeted wooden bench seats to the fiberglass seats in my Sears Gamefisher. My question is about preparing the fiberglass bench/epoxied seat bottom for best adhesion. I was thinking about drilling holes in the benchtop of the fiberglass seat. My thinking is that when I spread my adhesive out and install the topper (Loctite 3X) it will get pushed down into the holes creating a kind of "plug weld" hopefully increasing the shear strength of the connection. My worry is that the fiberglass benches will flex and my wooden toppers will not and I will be needing that extra grip to keep them from separating when that happens.
Edit: the bottoms of the wooden bench toppers are not carpeted, just a 1.5 inch perimeter is covered woth carpet. The rest is wood that has been fiberglass resined and painted.

I did Lucky Lake camping last year for my first Forest 🌳⚡️🧚🏼‍♀️ That said, I feel like it’s worth making a post about it to help out Forest fam.
2023 was their first year having Lucky Lake as a camping option, and thus there was limited info about it, so I didn’t really know much of what to expect. Gonna do my best to share pros and cons and be as objective as possible while also sharing my personal Lucky Lake experience. 🤓
Skip to the end for TLDR version
(CON: Initial confusion and disorganization stemming from HQ)

• Not sure if it was just my friend and I, but from the start, we got limited guidance from staffing on where exactly to go. Once we finally found the Lucky Lake camping area, there was no structure to the campgrounds. They did not have the camping areas marked off, so some people had tiny camp setups and some had huge setups, just depended on the size of the groups and how much they decided to bring. It was also basically just a “find a good spot and that’s your camp” situation, so that was kind of nice cause we were able to find some trees. There was actually lots of trees in our campground, especially compared to GA, so that was a general plus in my book for the whole weekend. Heads up - I may be staying the obvious here but the camp spots up on and close by the lake were filled up first, so if that’s a must for you, best to do RV camping or Tuesday arrival if you’re tent camping. For some weird reason, they did not allow us to have our cars at our campsite like in GA? We had to take our cars and go park them in a separate nearby parking lot. We were told by staff that it was so they could make sure there was still enough room for all of the camp setups (we arrived on Wednesday, so assuming they were meaning for the folks who hadn’t gotten there yet for Thursday arrivals). Buttttt this was a bit frustrating, because that’s really on HQ to make sure the campgrounds didn’t get oversold and that there’s plenty of room, for the tickets that did get sold. This bummed us a bit not being able to have our car, as we were planning on that for periodic AC, electronics charging, and safekeeping of our valuables. We also paid extra for a vehicle pass, so that sucked. People were initially pushing back on it and not moving their cars, and in our case, we were still unloading our stuff from the car and setting up camp; it was about that time that staff started coming around saying cars would get towed if they weren’t moved to the parking lot (and I did end up seeing 2 tow trucks passing through our campgrounds a bit after that). We had to tell several staff members that we would move our car once we were done unloading, cause they kept coming by rushing us. Mind you - the campgrounds were not even getting packed and never did. When we moved our car to the lot, was no markings or structure whatsoever as to how everyone parked. Some people were crooked, some taking up a ton of space, etc. For the rest of the weekend, the campgrounds were very spacious and it ended up working out ok. Here’s to hoping that in 2024 and moving forward, there’s some more organization with these things!! If for some reason they pull this again, the walk to the parking lot (depending upon where your campsite is) isn’t super close. It was about a 5-7 minute long walk for us.

(PRO: The lake!!!)

• The lake itself and the setup from HQ for it was honestly perfect. It was clean (by lake standards lol) had a soft sandy beach, a shaded structure with some benches, and lakeside sets by at least one, but probably a few different, DJs throughout the daytime. It was Friday around 1 PM, the DJ was playing tropical house, Forest fam around me was vibing, there were bubbles dancing around me, sun beaming on my body, gently getting rocked by the water hitting my float, and the temperature of the cool lake water - altogether was absolutely surreal. The vibes were truly unmatched and it was a perfect way to cool off during the daytime after the workshops and before going into the forest. Pro tip - bring your own floats, pool noodles, water games, etc. If they allow it, I may even bring my inflatable paddle board next time!

(CON: No HQ-hosted bonfires?)

• This one I may be wrong on, if I am, please comment. Part of the camping pass perks was that there would be “HQ hosted bonfires” exclusive to Lucky Lake. But to my knowledge, there was never any bonfires over the entire weekend, and I think there was supposed to be one per night. I heard a rumor from fellow Lucky Lakers that it was allegedly happening somewhere around 6-8 PM every night, so of course that’s basically when everyone is in the forest and not at camp. I was looking forward to some s’mores and bonfire vibes, so that was disappointing to not be able to experience. I’m still sticking with the notion that they never happened though, because knowing EF, pictures from the bonfires would’ve been on their socials. This was supposed to be one of the biggeunique perks of the Lucky Lake pass actually.

(PRO: The AC restrooms & complimentary unlimited showers)

• For me, this was a huge plus to have bathrooms that had a closable stall door, the toilet could flush, it never was out of toilet paper, air-conditioned, with a sink, mirror, and plenty of hand soap. Our campsite was close to some portapotties so we’d use those for a quick #1, but for anything else, brushing our teeth, washing our face, etc, those bathrooms were so worth it. I do wish they would’ve done like an East and a West bathroom/shower station across the Lucky Lake campgrounds for convenience. I only knew of the one station. The complimentary showers were great for me too; to be able to shower as much as I wanted to, and at any time of the day. They did run out of hot water once or twice, but thankfully for me, that was during the day and actually was kind of a nice way to cool off. Little cold exposure therapy! Lol. Cause that water was VERY cold.

(PRO: Ice sales and dedicated food vendor)

• Unsure if these folks were associated with EF (going to assume so) but a few times we were able to get more ice bags from people selling and delivering it through our campground on the back of a pickup truck. Not sure if they do this for every campground since it was my first Forest, but this was really nice, to not have to walk far for more ice and then have to haul it back to camp. The ice was like $10 for a small bag though, sooooo that hurt. Would love it if the prices weren’t gouged so high for ice. We also had at least one, possibly more?, food vendor setup in our campground. One morning I got a smoothie and a breakfast burrito from them, it was yummy and of course convenient not having to walk to Main Street or wait for a shuttle.

(CON: Close to the afters)

• This may or may not be a con for folks, depending upon your vibe. The afters were near the south entrance at the corner of GA, which is literally next door to Lucky Lake. So if you’re into that, the walk is short. Personally, most nights I was asleep by 1-2 AM and awake by 7-8 AM. But you’ll hear the afters music till about 5:00-5:30 AM. The vibe for Lucky Lake campgrounds was pretty much like what I did; mostly quiet and dark and chill during those hours. I got lucky and had some great neighbors (shoutout to the amazing group of Canadian travel nurses!) so people around us were very considerate and quiet. I had a white noise speaker, earplugs, and an eye mask, and was actually able to get some rest most nights. But the Zeds Dead afters were going harddd and that particular night it was difficult to sleep. I think I still have Skanka by Hamdi permanently burned into my brain from that night lol.

(PRO: The shuttle service to Tripolee)

• Although we didn’t take advantage of it as much as we should have, and definitely will do more of next time, the shuttle service was great. I think one came by every 15 minutes and was never even close to a full shuttle anytime I used it. It cuts down on a ton of walking. If you look at the map, it’s on basically the complete opposite side of the grounds as Sherwood Court. Camp Blueberry for GA sort of situation, but not quite as far. This shuttle also naturally puts you close to Main Street, which is nice.

All-in-all, I loved the Lucky Lake camping experience and would for sure do it again. I’m hoping this post is helpful for Forest fam, and would love to see thoughts and opinions from other 2023 Lucky Lakers. Glad to answer any questions as well!
TLDR: Highly recommend Lucky Lake. Just be aware of the cons beforehand, and hopefully 2 of those 3 cons will be resolved for this upcoming EF.
Happy Forest 🌲✨

Hello - I have a 2017 Accord Hybrid (just that, so base level?) and while searching for the elusive front-facing camera, I stumbled on someone wanting to try and do a full interior swap with a higher trim level.
Is this really possible? I figure seats ought to be easy enough (not trying to hook up heat or anything I don’t have), hopefully the rear bench on a standard accord wouldn’t have to obstruct the battery vent. Finding a donor hybrid will likely prove very difficult and prohibitively expensive.
Anyway, would the nav screen, etc in the dash be able to be swapped in? I figure there’s bound to be a poor tax where you can’t just plug and play the nicer accessories (or hell, the whole dash), but I was hoping to get the info from someone who has worked on these or otherwise knows.
At the very least, I’d like to swap to a lighter color and leather, with accompanying trim, but if the dash is a no-go, I won’t waste my time. Plan to have it all apart anyway to lay in sound dampening, etc. so why not? If it’s just seats and trim, hopefully that stays fairly simple.
Always glad to learn more, if anyone will humor me. Fingers crossed I found a used camera that will work. I was about ready to start scrounging auctions.

so i am making a shelf for raising up slings most of them are still small so they don't have there adult enclosures so i want one central heating for a all the enclosures one problem im having with planning is the heating the shelf is wooden so i dont want any heating touching the wood so does any one done anything like this that i could do it to not start a fire and some heating mat brand names would be nice im still in the planning phase if you have better ideas for heating please tell me and yes i have had taratulas before but im starting to get more slings and i want a shelf just for the slings and thank you for your commet

This is less of a request and more just what I've noticed myself.
I started doing bench press at home seriously probably 6 months ago. During that time I noticed some pain in my hand when I stretched my left ring finger laterally. Some time after that I found that during bench press I was also starting to feel pain in my left wrist.
Being the savey Internet user I am, I immediately went online but all the advice focused on wrist positioning and didn't account for my finger pain. I tried adjusting my grip asking my other lifting friends, but nothing helped. Stretching the finger with didn't help it made it worse. Eventually I decided to live with it because I wasn't going to stop.
At some point after that I added front squats to my routine and immediately ran into an issue. I'm order to place the bar on my chest I had to bend my wrists back so far it felt like they were hyper extending. Just to keep any hold on the bar I had to let the lady two fingers of my left hand slip off, which then caused concerns when I had to put the weights down.
Today I noticed that the hyper extension feeling wasn't as severe, and the pain from the bench press has disappeared. Even the lateral pain in my fingers has lessened.
My conclusion is thus: my wrists were horribly stiff and the front squats forced me to stretch them. My plan is to continue my front squat routine as it seems to be inducing the stretch. I should probably include other stretches into my routine as well as this issue is likely not limited to my wrists.

Incoming exchange student for Semester 1 2024/2025 here, been looking at hall tours on youtube but most of them don't show the gym. I'm looking for just a barbell and plates (that isn't a smith machine) to do squat, bench, deadlift.
Gym aside, my current preference is JCSV 4, then JCSV 3 and St. John.
What is the food situation like? I know St. John has a meal plan how much is it per semester? how much can I expect to spend per month cooking myself?
Thanks for any response! Of course being able to get any dorm at HKU is already super nice so I can't be too picky

Dracula: World of War --- The Violet Reaper ---- Humans Don’t Make Good Familiars Book 1 ---- The Lonely World --- Discord ---- YouTube --- My Patreon --- My Author's Page --- ArcAngel98 Wiki ---- The Next Best Hero ---- HDMGF Book 2 ---- Jess and Blinx: The Wizard ---- The Questing Parties ---- Zombies ---- Previous
Jake’s POV
One more, rather intense, sparing session later, and I was back in Suma and Luna’s room. I was being treated for the injuries I’d received during the third round. It was a simple place. Stone walls, those glowing braids sewn into the walls and hanging from the ceiling. The furniture, if you call it that, were just metal and wooden bars and poles placed around the room. In the corner of the room were two boxes, with drapes hanging over the only opening, and a cushion made of animal pelts to sleep in. Lying on the floor, Suma was standing at my side, casting healing spells.
“Jake, these injures are terrible! What happened?” Suma asked. Luna was out with Ciel and his son at the moment, getting seeds and other things from the local market.
“I ran out of mana in the third round of training, and got hit by easily thirty spells in less than ten seconds; from all sides.” I groaned, wincing in pain with every other breath.
“Well, after training with the Royal Mages, I suppose I cannot be surprised that you were injured. How did your other teammates fair?”
“No, it was just me versus them.” I said. Suma gasped snorted in shock.
“W-what?! Then it is no wonder you were injured so badly! Why did they not stop after the first round if they were not going to at least heal you?”
“I wasn’t hurt until the end of the third round. Actually, they ended it because I was injured. They had healers there, but I wanted you to heal me instead since you know-” I coughed hard, feeling my chest rattle and bringing my hand to cover my mouth as I did. Pulling it away, I saw some blood and a cold chill ran straight down my spine and into my stomach. “Oh, that’s probably not good.” Suma immediately fluttered over to my chest, and started another healing spell.
“Never before have I been so grateful for all those confusing lessons on your people’s anatomy.” She said in a frustrated huff.
“Just wish I could have made it through that final round. If I hadn’t run out of mana, my magnetic barrier spell would have stayed up.”
“Jake, it is nothing short of a miracle that you lasted one round, let alone two. And alone no less!”
“You know I won those first two rounds.” I said, smugly.
“You have a head injury, Jake.” Suma said, unfazed. “Once you have stopped spitting up blood, I will treat that too.”
“No, really!” I protested. “And I think I could have won the third one too.”
“If they had not pelted you relentlessly with attack spells?” Suma asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Exactly.” Reaching a hand into my pocket, I pulled out a small wooden plank, engraved with runic symbols and the Queen’s seal, and showed it to Suma. “Got this though.”
“Oh, a Rune-Maker’s permit?”
“Yup. Totally worth it.” I said, just before my toe suddenly popped back into place, sending a sharp and stabbing pain through my entire foot. “AHH! Son of a… ow!”
“That was the last of your injuries. Please, in the future, if you plan on breaking every bone in your body again… change your plans.”
“It wasn’t every bone.”
“But it was quite a lot of them.” She shook her head, probably annoyed. “What are your plans now that you have your license?”
“Nothing immediately, but when we get back to Zach-Ashem, it’ll help with my work with Sela-Car.”
“And what about for the rest of the day? Not another sparring session, I hope?”
“No, but I wish it were.” I said, suddenly feeling anxious. “It’s time.”
“For?”
“To learn how to heal myself.” Holding up my missing hand, she suddenly realized what I meant.
“Ah, do you want me to stay with you while you do?” Suma asked, trying to be gentle, but I’m sure she was still nervous after what happened in the desert. She was no more excited about this than I was.
“Yeah, that…” A deep guttural sigh escaped my lip, almost without me even noticing. “That’d be nice.”
Lying down on the floor, Suma by my head for moral support, it was time to delve into Deyja’s memories. Falling into darkness, I felt that haze wash over my whole body. Searching for information about how he healed himself, despite famously having Death-Mage, I opened the first memory I found. Slowly, everything came into focus as the memory took shape. The first thing I noticed was how high up I was; Deyja was tall. On my, or rather his, left, stood Ashem, who looked different from the last time I saw a memory with him in it. He looked younger, smaller. Both were in a field of rolling hills, surrounded by flowers; some of which came up to their knees. He was using magic to create illusions, and they both were watching them.
“Let us begin our lesson.” Ashem said, his voice rolling like thunder, even despite his youth.
“Thank you again, my friend. I have been wanting to learn to dual-cast for a century now, but have had little time while managing my sections of the project.”
“It is my pleasure, Deyja. I know how hard you have been working with the Neame, and am more than happy to help.” The illusions began to take shape, however it was not pictures, but words written in a language I did not know, floating in the air.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Queen Ompera’s POV
“Leave us.” I ordered my staff. “Svend and I must have a private conversation regarding important matters of state.” Immediately, they all left my private chamber, leaving myself and Svend alone; finally. We laid down in my roost, my head resting on his wing. It had been a long day, full of boring military and diplomatic talks and meetings. All I wanted now was to rest and enjoy my time with him alone.
“Important matters of state? I am certain they all know the truth by this point. Why bother keeping it secret from them further, Ompera?”
“Those gossips would tell our whole kingdom if I ever actually confirmed anything. Let them keep whispering rumors quietly.” I told him, closing my eyes and relaxing.
“Did anything interesting happen today?” Svend asked.
“The campaign to push out the Union from Island of Sangu has officially started. Forces left today, prepared to use Tactical-Scale magic. Evacuations will begin immediately. But I do not want to talk about that.” I told him.
“Okay, then what about the Viking familiar. You went and watched his training today, yes? What did you think?”
I stopped for a moment, unsure how to answer. “He terrifies me.”
“Someone is scary enough to frighten you? He must be quite the intimidating fellow then.” Svend joked.
“Never once in my life have I met someone with so much mana, and such complex and powerful spells. When I requested the General to test him under the guise of training the Royal Mages, I knew what to expect somewhat. I’ve used my Mana Gaze on him before, but I have never seen his complex spells in use until today.” Images of the training flashed into my mind.
“What did he look like?”
“The sheer amount of mana that the spell he used to protect himself with was staggering. It would burn through the entire mana reservoir of the Royal Mages in less than a minute. Yet he sustained it for almost ten minutes. Maybe longer. It looked like wave after wave of mana was just devoured by the air itself. Mana flickered in the air like lightning. Regarding complexity, the only thing I have ever seen even come close to it was Ritual-Magic, and Tactical-Scale magic. But none of that was what truly frightened me.”
“Then what?” Svend asked, listening intently. Clearly uneasy with my descriptions.
“He won.”
“His team won?”
“He fought alone, and still overwhelmed an entire attack squadron of Royal Mages, twice. He was only defeated because he ran out of mana; sacrificed to that monstrous spell. And even when he was finally hit by attack magic, he suffered minimal injuries; until all of the remaining mages seized the opportunity to attack him all at once. But still he refused healing, preferring to have his master heal him instead. Despite how severe his wounds were, he was able to contact his master and left without complaint after receiving his permit.”
“Is this true?” Svend asked, then after a moment of silence he had another question. “Permit?”
“He went through all of that just so that I would issue him a Rune-Crafter’s permit.”
“So, he is insane?”
“Perhaps… But still, to use spells so advanced that they outclassed rituals, and were more powerful defenses that most of the spells used by the dragons; if the records are accurate that is.” I said, suddenly very sure that asking him to go to the islands was the correct choice. “His Drake Squadron should arrive tomorrow. I look forward to seeing the results of his mission.”

Dracula: World of War --- The Violet Reaper ---- Humans Don’t Make Good Familiars Book 1 ---- The Lonely World --- Discord ---- YouTube --- My Patreon --- My Author's Page --- ArcAngel98 Wiki ---- The Next Best Hero ---- HDMGF Book 2 ---- Jess and Blinx: The Wizard ---- The Questing Parties ---- Zombies ---- Previous
Jake’s POV
One more, rather intense, sparing session later, and I was back in Suma and Luna’s room. I was being treated for the injuries I’d received during the third round. It was a simple place. Stone walls, those glowing braids sewn into the walls and hanging from the ceiling. The furniture, if you call it that, were just metal and wooden bars and poles placed around the room. In the corner of the room were two boxes, with drapes hanging over the only opening, and a cushion made of animal pelts to sleep in. Lying on the floor, Suma was standing at my side, casting healing spells.
“Jake, these injures are terrible! What happened?” Suma asked. Luna was out with Ciel and his son at the moment, getting seeds and other things from the local market.
“I ran out of mana in the third round of training, and got hit by easily thirty spells in less than ten seconds; from all sides.” I groaned, wincing in pain with every other breath.
“Well, after training with the Royal Mages, I suppose I cannot be surprised that you were injured. How did your other teammates fair?”
“No, it was just me versus them.” I said. Suma gasped snorted in shock.
“W-what?! Then it is no wonder you were injured so badly! Why did they not stop after the first round if they were not going to at least heal you?”
“I wasn’t hurt until the end of the third round. Actually, they ended it because I was injured. They had healers there, but I wanted you to heal me instead since you know-” I coughed hard, feeling my chest rattle and bringing my hand to cover my mouth as I did. Pulling it away, I saw some blood and a cold chill ran straight down my spine and into my stomach. “Oh, that’s probably not good.” Suma immediately fluttered over to my chest, and started another healing spell.
“Never before have I been so grateful for all those confusing lessons on your people’s anatomy.” She said in a frustrated huff.
“Just wish I could have made it through that final round. If I hadn’t run out of mana, my magnetic barrier spell would have stayed up.”
“Jake, it is nothing short of a miracle that you lasted one round, let alone two. And alone no less!”
“You know I won those first two rounds.” I said, smugly.
“You have a head injury, Jake.” Suma said, unfazed. “Once you have stopped spitting up blood, I will treat that too.”
“No, really!” I protested. “And I think I could have won the third one too.”
“If they had not pelted you relentlessly with attack spells?” Suma asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Exactly.” Reaching a hand into my pocket, I pulled out a small wooden plank, engraved with runic symbols and the Queen’s seal, and showed it to Suma. “Got this though.”
“Oh, a Rune-Maker’s permit?”
“Yup. Totally worth it.” I said, just before my toe suddenly popped back into place, sending a sharp and stabbing pain through my entire foot. “AHH! Son of a… ow!”
“That was the last of your injuries. Please, in the future, if you plan on breaking every bone in your body again… change your plans.”
“It wasn’t every bone.”
“But it was quite a lot of them.” She shook her head, probably annoyed. “What are your plans now that you have your license?”
“Nothing immediately, but when we get back to Zach-Ashem, it’ll help with my work with Sela-Car.”
“And what about for the rest of the day? Not another sparring session, I hope?”
“No, but I wish it were.” I said, suddenly feeling anxious. “It’s time.”
“For?”
“To learn how to heal myself.” Holding up my missing hand, she suddenly realized what I meant.
“Ah, do you want me to stay with you while you do?” Suma asked, trying to be gentle, but I’m sure she was still nervous after what happened in the desert. She was no more excited about this than I was.
“Yeah, that…” A deep guttural sigh escaped my lip, almost without me even noticing. “That’d be nice.”
Lying down on the floor, Suma by my head for moral support, it was time to delve into Deyja’s memories. Falling into darkness, I felt that haze wash over my whole body. Searching for information about how he healed himself, despite famously having Death-Mage, I opened the first memory I found. Slowly, everything came into focus as the memory took shape. The first thing I noticed was how high up I was; Deyja was tall. On my, or rather his, left, stood Ashem, who looked different from the last time I saw a memory with him in it. He looked younger, smaller. Both were in a field of rolling hills, surrounded by flowers; some of which came up to their knees. He was using magic to create illusions, and they both were watching them.
“Let us begin our lesson.” Ashem said, his voice rolling like thunder, even despite his youth.
“Thank you again, my friend. I have been wanting to learn to dual-cast for a century now, but have had little time while managing my sections of the project.”
“It is my pleasure, Deyja. I know how hard you have been working with the Neame, and am more than happy to help.” The illusions began to take shape, however it was not pictures, but words written in a language I did not know, floating in the air.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Queen Ompera’s POV
“Leave us.” I ordered my staff. “Svend and I must have a private conversation regarding important matters of state.” Immediately, they all left my private chamber, leaving myself and Svend alone; finally. We laid down in my roost, my head resting on his wing. It had been a long day, full of boring military and diplomatic talks and meetings. All I wanted now was to rest and enjoy my time with him alone.
“Important matters of state? I am certain they all know the truth by this point. Why bother keeping it secret from them further, Ompera?”
“Those gossips would tell our whole kingdom if I ever actually confirmed anything. Let them keep whispering rumors quietly.” I told him, closing my eyes and relaxing.
“Did anything interesting happen today?” Svend asked.
“The campaign to push out the Union from Island of Sangu has officially started. Forces left today, prepared to use Tactical-Scale magic. Evacuations will begin immediately. But I do not want to talk about that.” I told him.
“Okay, then what about the Viking familiar. You went and watched his training today, yes? What did you think?”
I stopped for a moment, unsure how to answer. “He terrifies me.”
“Someone is scary enough to frighten you? He must be quite the intimidating fellow then.” Svend joked.
“Never once in my life have I met someone with so much mana, and such complex and powerful spells. When I requested the General to test him under the guise of training the Royal Mages, I knew what to expect somewhat. I’ve used my Mana Gaze on him before, but I have never seen his complex spells in use until today.” Images of the training flashed into my mind.
“What did he look like?”
“The sheer amount of mana that the spell he used to protect himself with was staggering. It would burn through the entire mana reservoir of the Royal Mages in less than a minute. Yet he sustained it for almost ten minutes. Maybe longer. It looked like wave after wave of mana was just devoured by the air itself. Mana flickered in the air like lightning. Regarding complexity, the only thing I have ever seen even come close to it was Ritual-Magic, and Tactical-Scale magic. But none of that was what truly frightened me.”
“Then what?” Svend asked, listening intently. Clearly uneasy with my descriptions.
“He won.”
“His team won?”
“He fought alone, and still overwhelmed an entire attack squadron of Royal Mages, twice. He was only defeated because he ran out of mana; sacrificed to that monstrous spell. And even when he was finally hit by attack magic, the injuries he suffered minimal injuries; until all of the remaining mages seized the opportunity to attack him all at once. But still he refused healing, preferring to have his master heal him instead. Despite how severe his wounds were, he was able to contact his master and left without complaint after receiving his permit.”
“Is this true?” Svend asked, then after a moment of silence he had another question. “Permit?”
“He went through all of that just so that I would issue him a Rune-Crafter’s permit.”
“So, he is insane?”
“Perhaps… But still, to use spells so advanced that they outclassed rituals, and were more powerful defenses that most of the spells used by the dragons; if the records are accurate that is.” I said, suddenly very sure that asking him to go to the islands was the correct choice. “His Drake Squadron should arrive tomorrow. I look forward to seeing the results of his mission.”

A few years ago, I decided I needed a major life change. Everything seemed to be going downhill- my finances, my mental health, my life. I would go weeks without sleeping sometimes as the heavy traffic passed through the city streets down below. Every time I went outside, I saw more homeless people, more needles and crack pipes littering the ground, more muggings and assaults and overdoses and deaths. The city had become a wasteland, and I knew it was time to leave.
I had no girlfriend, no wife, no kids. My parents had both died a few years prior and I barely talked to my siblings anymore. I had nothing to tie me down to this place where I felt like I was dying inside a little more each day.
That was when I sold nearly everything I owned, got in my car and drove up to Alaska to try starting anew. I bought a small cabin and a plot of land in the middle of its majestic mountains and dark, enchanting forests. In the winter, the Northern Lights would shine through like the eyes of God, sending out divine trails of light that danced through the sky in cosmic waves.
And while the move did help give me some peace of mind, in the end, the source of all my problems had ultimately followed me thousands of miles into this endless wilderness. It would take me a long time to realize the cause of all this misery was myself.
Because, as a wise man once said, “Wherever I go, there I am.”
***
I lived in that cabin for three months without any major issues other than the constant threat of bears, moose and wolves. I had a rifle and a shotgun for hunting, a small garden in the backyard and a solar panel to generate electricity.
“This is the life,” I said, relaxing on a hammock I had strung across the corner of the cabin while staring at the endless beauty directly outside the window. White-capped mountains loomed like giants in front of thick clusters of evergreens. A virgin covering of fluffy snow made the entire world glisten and sparkle. There wasn’t a house or road in sight.
“No work, no stress, no pollution, no cars honking all the time…” I closed my eyes, breathing in the clean air. I ended up falling asleep for a couple hours, waking up just as the Sun had started setting. Bright orange streaks mixed with the bloody smears of the fading light as it disappeared behind the mountains.
I groggily arose, stumbling over to make a cup of instant coffee. As I sipped it, I wandered around the room, looking for something to pass the time. There were still quite a few random objects left behind by the last owner that I hadn’t gotten rid of yet. I had moved in to find a stocked bookshelf filled with classics by Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein. Bored, I started rifling through the collection, looking for something good to pass the time. As I shuffled past “A Maze of Death” and “Ubik”, something caught my eye.
A black, leather-bound book with no title or author name stood there, its cover faded with time and wear. Curious, I pulled it out and opened it. I saw the cursive scrawled across the pages in a neat, copperplate script and realized it was a diary left behind by the previous owner. The first entry was dated “January 9th, 2015.” This is what it said.
***
“I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not. I went into town to talk to my therapist yesterday and she said I should try writing everything down. She talks to me like it’s all in my head. But I know it’s not.
“When I first moved into the cabin, it seemed like Paradise. I never thought in a million years that something would be slinking around at night. I never thought it would be hiding under my bed, peeking in windows and following me like a shadow.
“Right now, I’m snowed in with a cup of coffee in one hand and my pistol in the other. I can’t sleep anymore. I keep hearing something shuffling around under the bed. Sometimes, I think I even hear ragged breathing, as if a corpse with dirt in its lungs had come back to life.
“I’ve caught glimpses of that thing in the darkness. Whatever it is, its skin is loose, almost falling off the bone. It almost looks like a naked, emaciated man. Its eyes are rotted and dark, its back hunched, its spine twisted and jutting out like tumors. It moves in this slow, jerky way, but I can never seem to catch it. Its body seems broken and out of alignment. Its legs bend the wrong way sometimes.
“By the time I turn on the lights or try to take a video of it, it’s always disappeared. But its fetid odor remains. It lingers in the cabin like a sweet-smelling, spreading infection.
“I don’t know what it wants from me. I want to leave, but with the storm raging outside, I’m stuck here, unable to get all the way back to town. The snow surrounds the cabin in mounds five feet high. I feel like a prisoner caged with a rabid beast, not knowing when it will strike.
“My wife claims she hasn’t seen or heard anything, but she keeps vanishing on me. Last night, she disappeared in the middle of a snowstorm. Where did she go? I asked her in the morning, but she said she was here the whole time. She didn’t remember anything. There’s no way she went into town. There wasn’t time and the trails were impassable that far down.
“Something’s going on here, but I don’t know what it is. I’m truly scared for our lives.”
I slammed the diary shut, not wanting to read anymore. I didn’t want to become infected by some kind of contagious cabin fever. If the last owner had gone insane in the mountains and started hallucinating naked corpses crawling around, I really didn’t want to know.
I shoved the diary back in the bookshelf, going for “A Maze of Death” instead. I tried to forget what I had read in the diary as I flew through the novella. All night, I tried to get the image of the naked, twisting man with rotted eyes out of my head, but I couldn’t.
I eventually fell asleep right before dawn. But, as my eyes were closing, I thought I saw a silhouette in the window- a starved man with excited, black eyes that seemed to be rotting out of his skull. I thought I saw him put his inhumanly long fingers against the glass as he leaned forward. I blinked, sitting up and glancing out into the white, snow-covered wonderland.
There was nothing there.
***
Another hunter occasionally followed the deer trails near my cabin. A frozen lake stood a quarter-mile away, the surface white and covered in thick drifts of snow. I bundled up, deciding to go outside for a hike in the frigid dawn. I strapped on my snowshoes and grabbed my shotgun, as I always did when I went outside. I never knew when a polar bear might be waiting around the next tree, after all.
I opened the door, seeing footprints pressed into the snow all around my house. At first, I thought it was that silhouette I had seen, the nightmarish thing from the diary. But the footprints didn’t go over to my window. They followed the trail twenty feet away, veering off towards the frozen lake at the bottom of the hill. I glanced down in that direction, seeing a black figure plodding slowly forward.
“Steve!” I cried, recognizing my only neighbor in a four-mile radius. He had a cabin about a mile away on his own little plot of land. He jumped, clearly startled by the sudden noise. His black snow pants and heavy fur coat swished together as he spun, raising his rifle high. When he saw me, he immediately lowered it and put a gloved hand up in a friendly greeting.
“Hey Josh! Surprised to see you up this early,” he yelled over the muted wintry landscape. Sounds always seemed different after it snowed, as if all the noise in the world had become faded and dead.
“Yeah, I’ve been having a little trouble sleeping,” I said, slinging my shotgun around my shoulder. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Just a little hunting, you know,” he said, giving me a sly wink. “Animals are always most active around dusk and dawn, it seems. That’s when I always have the best luck, anyway.” He stepped close to me, staring me in the eyes. “You do look like shit. Those bags under your eyes are big enough to carry groceries in.”
“Yeah, trust me, I know… Hey, this might sound a little weird, but did you know the previous owner of this cabin?” I asked. Steve’s wrinkled, old face fell into a scowl. His expression immediately became guarded and distant.
“Sure, sure, we met,” he exclaimed bluntly. He seemed to be searching my face for something, but I didn’t know what. His reaction left me feeling off-balance and nervous.
“Is he still around?” I said. Steve’s scowl deepened.
“Buddy, I don’t know what this is about, but he’s dead. He’s been dead. He died in that cabin, actually.” He pointed a finger at my home accusingly. With those words, my heart seemed to drop into my stomach. Waves of dread flowed through my body like water.
“How… how did he die? Like a heart attack or something?” I asked. Steve’s gaze turned downwards. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Do you know that Alaska has the highest missing persons rate in the entire United States? It’s not even close. In fact, for the population size, we have far more people who go missing and never get found than anywhere else. They even have a name for it: the Alaska Triangle,” Steve said. “And we’re square in the middle of it.” I stared blankly at him, wondering where he was going with this. It seemed like a way to avoid answering my question.
“No, I didn’t know that…” I responded. Steve nodded, raising his head again. He heaved a deep sigh.
“Look, the thing with the last owner and his wife… it’s somewhat disturbing. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but it’s certainly not going to help your peace of mind. And it definitely isn’t going to help you get some sleep.”
“I want to know,” I insisted instantly. The wind started to whip past us. Flakes of ice and snow flew sideways in the sudden currents.
“Let’s go back to your cabin then,” Steve said, pulling his heavy fur-lined hood off and shaking out his long, black hair behind him. “I could use a bit of whiskey to warm up.”
***
We sat down with a bottle of Johnny Walker and two shot glasses. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but Steve certainly was. He chugged three shots in the span of a minute. I sipped at mine, drinking half and putting it back down on the coffee table with a thunk. Steve grunted, hissing through his open mouth for a moment.
“Ugh, that’s the good stuff,” he said, slamming his chest as the burning liquor worked its way down. Steve looked up at me with a new sparkle in his eyes. “Huh, so you want to know about what happened to Will Lenning. Well, I’ll tell you that no one really knows the whole story. I used to see him occasionally, come down and have a drink and talk. We all know each other around here, obviously.” I nodded, motioning him on. “He seemed like a normal, upstanding guy. He kinda reminded me of you, actually. A young guy trying to escape the hustle and bustle of the city life, the cancer of the American Dream.
“Well, he was here for maybe a couple months, I don’t know. Everything seemed fine. We used to go skeet shooting occasionally, have a beer, you know. We’d get together with a couple other hunters who live closer to town and sometimes play some poker. I never saw anything odd about Will. I never could have predicted what happened to him.” He heaved a long sigh at this, looking out the window at the sharp mountains with an expression of nostalgia.
“Well, what happened to him?” I asked, encouraging him to go on.
“He started talking about seeing someone peering in through his window at night. He talked about hearing sounds from under his bed while he was laying there in the dark- sounds like diseased breathing and shuffling. He started keeping all the lights on in his cabin twenty-four hours a day.” Steve leaned close to me. A glimmer of fear rippled across his pale, wrinkled face. “He started to lose his mind. Started digging holes all over the place, looking for something. Even in the middle of snowstorms, I would occasionally see him outside, digging. It seemed like he never slept anymore. It was classic cabin fever if I ever saw it.
“It was only a few weeks later that I came over here, concerned. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, which was fairly unusual. I found the door hanging wide open. Propped up in a chair in the exact spot where you now sit, Will lay with a blast hole showing clear through his skull, a shotgun laying at his feet.
“And next to him, I found a blood-stained diary opened to the middle page. The last entry was stained with blood spatter, but still visible. I remember leaning down and reading it. It was only a few sentences long.” I glanced over at the bookshelf with the same diary, saying nothing.
“It said something like, ‘I see now what’s going on. The Twisted Man is leading me to the truth. Today, I will finally find it.’”
“And that was his suicide note?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. He nodded.
“Yeah. I went into town and got some rangers to come check it out. Eventually, they got cops and CSI there. They took all the stuff as evidence, including the diary,” he said. “Good riddance, I say. Reading something like that is never beneficial. Sometimes delusions spread like a virus, you know what I mean?” I did, but I said nothing. I glanced back at the diary, its black leather cover gleaming like a crouching snake.
And I wondered- if the police took the diary as evidence, how did it get back here?
***
“You said he had a wife living here with him, too?” I asked.
“Yeah… she went missing around the same time,” he said. “Pretty bizarre. The cops thought maybe she just moved away, but…” He shook his head grimly. “As far as I know, she was never seen again. It was like she had evaporated into thin air.”
After Steve left, I walked stiffly over to the bookshelf, taking down the diary. I flipped open through the pages. In the middle, I found the last entry. Spatters of old, darkened blood were scattered over the page like raindrops. I found the suicide note and read the date.
“January 27th, 2015,” it read. Will Lenning had not lived long after he started seeing the Twisted Man. I wondered if my fate would be the same.
The Sun had started to set outside as I sat with the diary at the small circular kitchen table, eating some stewed venison and rice as I read through the entries. At the end, Will Lenning said the Twisted Man had been trying to guide him somewhere, that, in fact, the Twisted Man had been trying to protect him from some great evil, rather than being the source of it.
I scoffed, feeling a flash of anger at his stupidity. His naivety obviously led to his death. But then a flash of insight struck me like lightning.
What if I was committing the same kind of stupidity? Perhaps I should just grab my gun and valuables and leave. I could take off on the snowmobile and be in town within a couple hours.
But, in my heart, I knew I would not. Something about the mystery of all this beckoned me to stay. Like a siren leading sailors to destruction, my curiosity called out to me, and I knew I would not be leaving that night. I needed answers.
And, sadly, I would find them.
***
I had fallen asleep with an empty bottle of beer in my hand. I sat in front of the TV, which only got satellite reception. There were, of course, no cable or phone lines threading their way through the forest. All of my power came from stored solar energy. Since I rarely watched TV and really only used it to cook or heat up water for bathing, the energy produced was sufficient even in winter. Tonight, though, I needed its sound, its mindless flashing of light and colors and canned laughter. It seemed to drive away the creeping, suffocating presence like a candle.
I woke suddenly. The TV flashed with static. The repetitive hissing of the white noise spit from the speakers like thousands of snakes. I glanced up at the clock. 3:33 AM. I looked around the dark cabin, confused for a long moment. I didn’t understand what had woken me so abruptly. The satellite had never gone out before, either, even with the howling winds and freezing hail of the Alaskan winter.
The TV started flickering as if the static were rising upwards. Black lines traced their way horizontally across the screen. The hissing deepened into a gurgle, and for a second, I thought I heard faint words behind the white noise. I thought I heard breathing, slow and diseased, like the death gasp of a drowning man.
A black line rose across the TV and an image came into view. The cabin was suddenly plunged into silence, except for the shrieking, wintry wind outside. I leaned close to the screen, confused at what I was looking at. It looked like a live camera feed of a room. As I took in the details, I realized it was my cabin. I saw myself in the chair, leaning close to the screen. I raised my hand, and the miniature version of me on the screen did likewise. Ice water seemed to drip down my spine as waves of dread coursed through my body.
“What the fuck is this?” I whispered, looking back to where the camera should be. It was just a coarse wooden ceiling in that corner. I turned back to the screen and nearly screamed.
The TV showed a pale, naked man crouching directly behind my chair now. With jerky movements, he rose, his broken spine twisting and shivering. A hissing voice rang out from the speakers. It spoke as if it had dirt and writhing maggots in its throat.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death,” it gurgled. “Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
Long, broken fingers with blackened nails reached out to touch my shoulders. I jumped out of the chair, stumbling back as I spun around in terror. My back smashed into the TV, and it fell to the floor with a shattering of glass and an explosion of light.
In those few moments before the darkness descended on me like a blanket, I thought I glimpsed a pale, sunken face with rotted, blackened eyes peeking out from behind the chair.
***
I turned on every light in the cabin, but there was no sign of the Twisted Man now. I knew I had to get out of there, though. I thought about the warning that the voice had spoken. If the creature wanted to attack me, then why hadn’t it just killed me while I was sleeping? None of it made sense. Who was watching me? The Twisted Man? And if he was, why warn me? Perhaps it was psychological warfare, I thought to myself. Perhaps the Twisted Man simply liked to play with his food before he ate it.
Thoughts raced through my head at a thousand miles an hour as I threw on snow pants and a couple heavy sweaters and coats. I covered up my entire body as much as I could to try to prevent frostbite. I had made up my mind to flee. There was no snowstorm tonight, though the entire landscape was blanketed in it and I knew the wind chill would be like an ice blade whipping against my skin. It was extremely dangerous to travel in the middle of the night like this in temperatures that might reach negative thirty degrees. Steve had been right, after all- Alaska had the highest missing persons rate of any state, and many of them were never found, their bodies likely frozen solid in the deep snow dozens of miles from the nearest town.
I grabbed my shotgun, jumped on my snowmobile and started heading to Steve’s cabin. I hoped I could wait there until the sunrise and then figure out what to do next.
But fate would take the decision out of my hands.
***
I felt like there were eyes watching me as I drove along the narrow, winding deer trail. The boughs of the evergreens reached into the path like greedy hands, grabbing at my coat and legs. More than a couple times, I thought I saw a pale, naked figure standing in the snow, but it had always gone when I turned to look.
I gave a sigh of relief when Steve’s place appeared in the distance. I could see the lights twinkling through the small windows of his log cabin. I pulled up next to his door, looking down. I saw two pairs of footprints there, one much smaller than the other. I found it odd, but shrugged it off. The snowmobile cut out with a sucking gurgle.
I knocked on the door hard a few times. Steve appeared after a few moments, groggy and half-dressed. He blinked slowly as he looked me up and down. His wrinkled face fell into a frown.
“Steve, I need a favor,” I said quickly. “Something weird is happening in my cabin. Can I stay here until morning, until maybe I can go to town or something? I can’t stay at my place tonight. I just can’t.” He nodded, yawning and motioning me in.
“You can sleep on the couch, I guess,” Steve said. “Put that shotgun somewhere safe, though, boy.” He had a partitioned bedroom in his cabin. It was significantly larger than my little one-room cabin, though it was basically still just a joint kitchen-living room, a small bedroom and a bathroom. He pointed to a well-worn couch in the corner and gave me an apathetic wave as he stumbled back into his bedroom, slamming the door.
I couldn’t sleep, though. I tiptoed around the room, looking at Steve’s bookshelf. He had a rather strange taste in books- lots of Anne Rule and true crime there. I saw dozens of books about Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Chase, Herbert Mullin, Jeffrey Dahmer and Richard Ramirez among the collection. At the end, a large, black binder stood, unlabeled and worn-looking. It reminded me of the look of that leather-bound diary for a second, and my heart dropped. But logically, I knew this was just a coincidence. Yet, still, I pulled out the binder, my curiosity piqued.
What I found inside filled me with dread and horror.
Countless news clippings covered the length of it. The first clipping was from nearly twenty years earlier, about a woman who went missing in the Alaskan forest while hiking. A later one confirmed that her body was never found, and that her family was still hoping that she might turn up alive somewhere. A reward was offered for any information, it said.
And every page after that was more of the same: missing woman, murdered prostitute, missing man, no leads. I kept flipping through until I found clippings about Will Lenning’s suicide and the sudden disappearance of his wife. On the article about the suicide, Steve had used red marker to scrawl, “HA HA!” next to it.
I heard the click of a gun being cocked from behind me. I froze as Steve’s voice traveled across the room like a whisper.
“How do you like my work, friend?” he asked, his tone jovial and mocking.
***
I still held the binder of horrors tightly in my hands as I stared open-mouthed at this man I thought I knew.
“It’s you? What, you killed Will Lenning and his wife? And a lot of other women, apparently.” Everything felt unreal, as if I were stuck in a dream. Steve’s grin spread across his face, but his blue eyes stayed cold and dead.
“Yes, well, she was cheating on him with me anyway. Just another whore, you know. They always get what’s coming to them in the end,” he hissed with hatred oozing from his voice. “It’s too bad, really. I just killed another slut tonight. I was planning on saving you for later. The urge isn’t too bad yet right now, after all. It comes in cycles, you see. It comes in waves…” I saw a glimmer of pale, naked flesh writhing behind Steve. With jerky movements, the Twisted Man came up behind him. I said nothing, just watching with wide-eyed horror and amazement.
“You need help, man,” I whispered. Steve laughed.
“Help? The only help they give people like me is a needle in the arm. You know that. That’s why it’s important to always cover your tracks…” The Twisted Man ran a long, broken finger across Steve’s neck. Steve gave a strangled cry and jumped. He spun around, screaming. I glanced over at my shotgun next to the couch.
I jumped for it as Steve turned back to me, firing his pistol twice. The first bullet soared high above me, raining wood splinters down on my head, but the second ripped into my leg. A cold, burning pain ran like fire up my shin. I screamed in agony and battle fury as I gripped the shotgun, spinning and firing.
Steve’s head exploded as the slug ripped through his brain. His forehead collapsed like a smashed melon as bone splinters and blood sprayed the wall behind him.
The Twisted Man stood there, hunched over, grinning up at me. I felt warm blood gushing from my leg as I stared back at him, breathing hard. I wondered if I was dying.
“You… you weren’t after me at all, were you?” I asked. “You were after… Steve.” But the Twisted Man said nothing. After a long moment, he slinked back into the shadows of the bedroom and disappeared.
***
As night crawled its way toward morning, I thought back to the words the Twisted Man had spoken through the TV, suddenly understanding everything.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death. Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
He hadn’t been trying to hurt me at all. He had been trying to warn me. He had probably tried to warn Will Lenning and his wife, too.
I wrapped my leg in gauze, gritting my teeth. The wound looked puckered and deep, but I could still move my foot, and the bullet had gone clean through the flesh. I poured alcohol on it, screaming in pain as it burned its way through my skin. After rummaging through Steve’s bathroom, I found some prescription painkillers and swallowed a handful of them with a beer. I knew I would need the opiate high to get through the pain of riding into town with a mutilated leg.
As the Sun finally rose, I made my way outside the blood-stained floors of the cabin to my snowmobile. Before I left, I glanced back at that horrid place, the scene of so much torment and death.
In the open doorway, the Twisted Man stood, his back hunched, his rotted lips grinning at me. His hand lifted up into the air with jerky movements and waved.
I waved back as I started the engine and headed into town.

A few years ago, I decided I needed a major life change. Everything seemed to be going downhill- my finances, my mental health, my life. I would go weeks without sleeping sometimes as the heavy traffic passed through the city streets down below. Every time I went outside, I saw more homeless people, more needles and crack pipes littering the ground, more muggings and assaults and overdoses and deaths. The city had become a wasteland, and I knew it was time to leave.
I had no girlfriend, no wife, no kids. My parents had both died a few years prior and I barely talked to my siblings anymore. I had nothing to tie me down to this place where I felt like I was dying inside a little more each day.
That was when I sold nearly everything I owned, got in my car and drove up to Alaska to try starting anew. I bought a small cabin and a plot of land in the middle of its majestic mountains and dark, enchanting forests. In the winter, the Northern Lights would shine through like the eyes of God, sending out divine trails of light that danced through the sky in cosmic waves.
And while the move did help give me some peace of mind, in the end, the source of all my problems had ultimately followed me thousands of miles into this endless wilderness. It would take me a long time to realize the cause of all this misery was myself.
Because, as a wise man once said, “Wherever I go, there I am.”
***
I lived in that cabin for three months without any major issues other than the constant threat of bears, moose and wolves. I had a rifle and a shotgun for hunting, a small garden in the backyard and a solar panel to generate electricity.
“This is the life,” I said, relaxing on a hammock I had strung across the corner of the cabin while staring at the endless beauty directly outside the window. White-capped mountains loomed like giants in front of thick clusters of evergreens. A virgin covering of fluffy snow made the entire world glisten and sparkle. There wasn’t a house or road in sight.
“No work, no stress, no pollution, no cars honking all the time…” I closed my eyes, breathing in the clean air. I ended up falling asleep for a couple hours, waking up just as the Sun had started setting. Bright orange streaks mixed with the bloody smears of the fading light as it disappeared behind the mountains.
I groggily arose, stumbling over to make a cup of instant coffee. As I sipped it, I wandered around the room, looking for something to pass the time. There were still quite a few random objects left behind by the last owner that I hadn’t gotten rid of yet. I had moved in to find a stocked bookshelf filled with classics by Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein. Bored, I started rifling through the collection, looking for something good to pass the time. As I shuffled past “A Maze of Death” and “Ubik”, something caught my eye.
A black, leather-bound book with no title or author name stood there, its cover faded with time and wear. Curious, I pulled it out and opened it. I saw the cursive scrawled across the pages in a neat, copperplate script and realized it was a diary left behind by the previous owner. The first entry was dated “January 9th, 2015.” This is what it said.
***
“I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not. I went into town to talk to my therapist yesterday and she said I should try writing everything down. She talks to me like it’s all in my head. But I know it’s not.
“When I first moved into the cabin, it seemed like Paradise. I never thought in a million years that something would be slinking around at night. I never thought it would be hiding under my bed, peeking in windows and following me like a shadow.
“Right now, I’m snowed in with a cup of coffee in one hand and my pistol in the other. I can’t sleep anymore. I keep hearing something shuffling around under the bed. Sometimes, I think I even hear ragged breathing, as if a corpse with dirt in its lungs had come back to life.
“I’ve caught glimpses of that thing in the darkness. Whatever it is, its skin is loose, almost falling off the bone. It almost looks like a naked, emaciated man. Its eyes are rotted and dark, its back hunched, its spine twisted and jutting out like tumors. It moves in this slow, jerky way, but I can never seem to catch it. Its body seems broken and out of alignment. Its legs bend the wrong way sometimes.
“By the time I turn on the lights or try to take a video of it, it’s always disappeared. But its fetid odor remains. It lingers in the cabin like a sweet-smelling, spreading infection.
“I don’t know what it wants from me. I want to leave, but with the storm raging outside, I’m stuck here, unable to get all the way back to town. The snow surrounds the cabin in mounds five feet high. I feel like a prisoner caged with a rabid beast, not knowing when it will strike.
“My wife claims she hasn’t seen or heard anything, but she keeps vanishing on me. Last night, she disappeared in the middle of a snowstorm. Where did she go? I asked her in the morning, but she said she was here the whole time. She didn’t remember anything. There’s no way she went into town. There wasn’t time and the trails were impassable that far down.
“Something’s going on here, but I don’t know what it is. I’m truly scared for our lives.”
I slammed the diary shut, not wanting to read anymore. I didn’t want to become infected by some kind of contagious cabin fever. If the last owner had gone insane in the mountains and started hallucinating naked corpses crawling around, I really didn’t want to know.
I shoved the diary back in the bookshelf, going for “A Maze of Death” instead. I tried to forget what I had read in the diary as I flew through the novella. All night, I tried to get the image of the naked, twisting man with rotted eyes out of my head, but I couldn’t.
I eventually fell asleep right before dawn. But, as my eyes were closing, I thought I saw a silhouette in the window- a starved man with excited, black eyes that seemed to be rotting out of his skull. I thought I saw him put his inhumanly long fingers against the glass as he leaned forward. I blinked, sitting up and glancing out into the white, snow-covered wonderland.
There was nothing there.
***
Another hunter occasionally followed the deer trails near my cabin. A frozen lake stood a quarter-mile away, the surface white and covered in thick drifts of snow. I bundled up, deciding to go outside for a hike in the frigid dawn. I strapped on my snowshoes and grabbed my shotgun, as I always did when I went outside. I never knew when a polar bear might be waiting around the next tree, after all.
I opened the door, seeing footprints pressed into the snow all around my house. At first, I thought it was that silhouette I had seen, the nightmarish thing from the diary. But the footprints didn’t go over to my window. They followed the trail twenty feet away, veering off towards the frozen lake at the bottom of the hill. I glanced down in that direction, seeing a black figure plodding slowly forward.
“Steve!” I cried, recognizing my only neighbor in a four-mile radius. He had a cabin about a mile away on his own little plot of land. He jumped, clearly startled by the sudden noise. His black snow pants and heavy fur coat swished together as he spun, raising his rifle high. When he saw me, he immediately lowered it and put a gloved hand up in a friendly greeting.
“Hey Josh! Surprised to see you up this early,” he yelled over the muted wintry landscape. Sounds always seemed different after it snowed, as if all the noise in the world had become faded and dead.
“Yeah, I’ve been having a little trouble sleeping,” I said, slinging my shotgun around my shoulder. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Just a little hunting, you know,” he said, giving me a sly wink. “Animals are always most active around dusk and dawn, it seems. That’s when I always have the best luck, anyway.” He stepped close to me, staring me in the eyes. “You do look like shit. Those bags under your eyes are big enough to carry groceries in.”
“Yeah, trust me, I know… Hey, this might sound a little weird, but did you know the previous owner of this cabin?” I asked. Steve’s wrinkled, old face fell into a scowl. His expression immediately became guarded and distant.
“Sure, sure, we met,” he exclaimed bluntly. He seemed to be searching my face for something, but I didn’t know what. His reaction left me feeling off-balance and nervous.
“Is he still around?” I said. Steve’s scowl deepened.
“Buddy, I don’t know what this is about, but he’s dead. He’s been dead. He died in that cabin, actually.” He pointed a finger at my home accusingly. With those words, my heart seemed to drop into my stomach. Waves of dread flowed through my body like water.
“How… how did he die? Like a heart attack or something?” I asked. Steve’s gaze turned downwards. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Do you know that Alaska has the highest missing persons rate in the entire United States? It’s not even close. In fact, for the population size, we have far more people who go missing and never get found than anywhere else. They even have a name for it: the Alaska Triangle,” Steve said. “And we’re square in the middle of it.” I stared blankly at him, wondering where he was going with this. It seemed like a way to avoid answering my question.
“No, I didn’t know that…” I responded. Steve nodded, raising his head again. He heaved a deep sigh.
“Look, the thing with the last owner and his wife… it’s somewhat disturbing. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but it’s certainly not going to help your peace of mind. And it definitely isn’t going to help you get some sleep.”
“I want to know,” I insisted instantly. The wind started to whip past us. Flakes of ice and snow flew sideways in the sudden currents.
“Let’s go back to your cabin then,” Steve said, pulling his heavy fur-lined hood off and shaking out his long, black hair behind him. “I could use a bit of whiskey to warm up.”
***
We sat down with a bottle of Johnny Walker and two shot glasses. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but Steve certainly was. He chugged three shots in the span of a minute. I sipped at mine, drinking half and putting it back down on the coffee table with a thunk. Steve grunted, hissing through his open mouth for a moment.
“Ugh, that’s the good stuff,” he said, slamming his chest as the burning liquor worked its way down. Steve looked up at me with a new sparkle in his eyes. “Huh, so you want to know about what happened to Will Lenning. Well, I’ll tell you that no one really knows the whole story. I used to see him occasionally, come down and have a drink and talk. We all know each other around here, obviously.” I nodded, motioning him on. “He seemed like a normal, upstanding guy. He kinda reminded me of you, actually. A young guy trying to escape the hustle and bustle of the city life, the cancer of the American Dream.
“Well, he was here for maybe a couple months, I don’t know. Everything seemed fine. We used to go skeet shooting occasionally, have a beer, you know. We’d get together with a couple other hunters who live closer to town and sometimes play some poker. I never saw anything odd about Will. I never could have predicted what happened to him.” He heaved a long sigh at this, looking out the window at the sharp mountains with an expression of nostalgia.
“Well, what happened to him?” I asked, encouraging him to go on.
“He started talking about seeing someone peering in through his window at night. He talked about hearing sounds from under his bed while he was laying there in the dark- sounds like diseased breathing and shuffling. He started keeping all the lights on in his cabin twenty-four hours a day.” Steve leaned close to me. A glimmer of fear rippled across his pale, wrinkled face. “He started to lose his mind. Started digging holes all over the place, looking for something. Even in the middle of snowstorms, I would occasionally see him outside, digging. It seemed like he never slept anymore. It was classic cabin fever if I ever saw it.
“It was only a few weeks later that I came over here, concerned. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, which was fairly unusual. I found the door hanging wide open. Propped up in a chair in the exact spot where you now sit, Will lay with a blast hole showing clear through his skull, a shotgun laying at his feet.
“And next to him, I found a blood-stained diary opened to the middle page. The last entry was stained with blood spatter, but still visible. I remember leaning down and reading it. It was only a few sentences long.” I glanced over at the bookshelf with the same diary, saying nothing.
“It said something like, ‘I see now what’s going on. The Twisted Man is leading me to the truth. Today, I will finally find it.’”
“And that was his suicide note?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. He nodded.
“Yeah. I went into town and got some rangers to come check it out. Eventually, they got cops and CSI there. They took all the stuff as evidence, including the diary,” he said. “Good riddance, I say. Reading something like that is never beneficial. Sometimes delusions spread like a virus, you know what I mean?” I did, but I said nothing. I glanced back at the diary, its black leather cover gleaming like a crouching snake.
And I wondered- if the police took the diary as evidence, how did it get back here?
***
“You said he had a wife living here with him, too?” I asked.
“Yeah… she went missing around the same time,” he said. “Pretty bizarre. The cops thought maybe she just moved away, but…” He shook his head grimly. “As far as I know, she was never seen again. It was like she had evaporated into thin air.”
After Steve left, I walked stiffly over to the bookshelf, taking down the diary. I flipped open through the pages. In the middle, I found the last entry. Spatters of old, darkened blood were scattered over the page like raindrops. I found the suicide note and read the date.
“January 27th, 2015,” it read. Will Lenning had not lived long after he started seeing the Twisted Man. I wondered if my fate would be the same.
The Sun had started to set outside as I sat with the diary at the small circular kitchen table, eating some stewed venison and rice as I read through the entries. At the end, Will Lenning said the Twisted Man had been trying to guide him somewhere, that, in fact, the Twisted Man had been trying to protect him from some great evil, rather than being the source of it.
I scoffed, feeling a flash of anger at his stupidity. His naivety obviously led to his death. But then a flash of insight struck me like lightning.
What if I was committing the same kind of stupidity? Perhaps I should just grab my gun and valuables and leave. I could take off on the snowmobile and be in town within a couple hours.
But, in my heart, I knew I would not. Something about the mystery of all this beckoned me to stay. Like a siren leading sailors to destruction, my curiosity called out to me, and I knew I would not be leaving that night. I needed answers.
And, sadly, I would find them.
***
I had fallen asleep with an empty bottle of beer in my hand. I sat in front of the TV, which only got satellite reception. There were, of course, no cable or phone lines threading their way through the forest. All of my power came from stored solar energy. Since I rarely watched TV and really only used it to cook or heat up water for bathing, the energy produced was sufficient even in winter. Tonight, though, I needed its sound, its mindless flashing of light and colors and canned laughter. It seemed to drive away the creeping, suffocating presence like a candle.
I woke suddenly. The TV flashed with static. The repetitive hissing of the white noise spit from the speakers like thousands of snakes. I glanced up at the clock. 3:33 AM. I looked around the dark cabin, confused for a long moment. I didn’t understand what had woken me so abruptly. The satellite had never gone out before, either, even with the howling winds and freezing hail of the Alaskan winter.
The TV started flickering as if the static were rising upwards. Black lines traced their way horizontally across the screen. The hissing deepened into a gurgle, and for a second, I thought I heard faint words behind the white noise. I thought I heard breathing, slow and diseased, like the death gasp of a drowning man.
A black line rose across the TV and an image came into view. The cabin was suddenly plunged into silence, except for the shrieking, wintry wind outside. I leaned close to the screen, confused at what I was looking at. It looked like a live camera feed of a room. As I took in the details, I realized it was my cabin. I saw myself in the chair, leaning close to the screen. I raised my hand, and the miniature version of me on the screen did likewise. Ice water seemed to drip down my spine as waves of dread coursed through my body.
“What the fuck is this?” I whispered, looking back to where the camera should be. It was just a coarse wooden ceiling in that corner. I turned back to the screen and nearly screamed.
The TV showed a pale, naked man crouching directly behind my chair now. With jerky movements, he rose, his broken spine twisting and shivering. A hissing voice rang out from the speakers. It spoke as if it had dirt and writhing maggots in its throat.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death,” it gurgled. “Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
Long, broken fingers with blackened nails reached out to touch my shoulders. I jumped out of the chair, stumbling back as I spun around in terror. My back smashed into the TV, and it fell to the floor with a shattering of glass and an explosion of light.
In those few moments before the darkness descended on me like a blanket, I thought I glimpsed a pale, sunken face with rotted, blackened eyes peeking out from behind the chair.
***
I turned on every light in the cabin, but there was no sign of the Twisted Man now. I knew I had to get out of there, though. I thought about the warning that the voice had spoken. If the creature wanted to attack me, then why hadn’t it just killed me while I was sleeping? None of it made sense. Who was watching me? The Twisted Man? And if he was, why warn me? Perhaps it was psychological warfare, I thought to myself. Perhaps the Twisted Man simply liked to play with his food before he ate it.
Thoughts raced through my head at a thousand miles an hour as I threw on snow pants and a couple heavy sweaters and coats. I covered up my entire body as much as I could to try to prevent frostbite. I had made up my mind to flee. There was no snowstorm tonight, though the entire landscape was blanketed in it and I knew the wind chill would be like an ice blade whipping against my skin. It was extremely dangerous to travel in the middle of the night like this in temperatures that might reach negative thirty degrees. Steve had been right, after all- Alaska had the highest missing persons rate of any state, and many of them were never found, their bodies likely frozen solid in the deep snow dozens of miles from the nearest town.
I grabbed my shotgun, jumped on my snowmobile and started heading to Steve’s cabin. I hoped I could wait there until the sunrise and then figure out what to do next.
But fate would take the decision out of my hands.
***
I felt like there were eyes watching me as I drove along the narrow, winding deer trail. The boughs of the evergreens reached into the path like greedy hands, grabbing at my coat and legs. More than a couple times, I thought I saw a pale, naked figure standing in the snow, but it had always gone when I turned to look.
I gave a sigh of relief when Steve’s place appeared in the distance. I could see the lights twinkling through the small windows of his log cabin. I pulled up next to his door, looking down. I saw two pairs of footprints there, one much smaller than the other. I found it odd, but shrugged it off. The snowmobile cut out with a sucking gurgle.
I knocked on the door hard a few times. Steve appeared after a few moments, groggy and half-dressed. He blinked slowly as he looked me up and down. His wrinkled face fell into a frown.
“Steve, I need a favor,” I said quickly. “Something weird is happening in my cabin. Can I stay here until morning, until maybe I can go to town or something? I can’t stay at my place tonight. I just can’t.” He nodded, yawning and motioning me in.
“You can sleep on the couch, I guess,” Steve said. “Put that shotgun somewhere safe, though, boy.” He had a partitioned bedroom in his cabin. It was significantly larger than my little one-room cabin, though it was basically still just a joint kitchen-living room, a small bedroom and a bathroom. He pointed to a well-worn couch in the corner and gave me an apathetic wave as he stumbled back into his bedroom, slamming the door.
I couldn’t sleep, though. I tiptoed around the room, looking at Steve’s bookshelf. He had a rather strange taste in books- lots of Anne Rule and true crime there. I saw dozens of books about Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Chase, Herbert Mullin, Jeffrey Dahmer and Richard Ramirez among the collection. At the end, a large, black binder stood, unlabeled and worn-looking. It reminded me of the look of that leather-bound diary for a second, and my heart dropped. But logically, I knew this was just a coincidence. Yet, still, I pulled out the binder, my curiosity piqued.
What I found inside filled me with dread and horror.
Countless news clippings covered the length of it. The first clipping was from nearly twenty years earlier, about a woman who went missing in the Alaskan forest while hiking. A later one confirmed that her body was never found, and that her family was still hoping that she might turn up alive somewhere. A reward was offered for any information, it said.
And every page after that was more of the same: missing woman, murdered prostitute, missing man, no leads. I kept flipping through until I found clippings about Will Lenning’s suicide and the sudden disappearance of his wife. On the article about the suicide, Steve had used red marker to scrawl, “HA HA!” next to it.
I heard the click of a gun being cocked from behind me. I froze as Steve’s voice traveled across the room like a whisper.
“How do you like my work, friend?” he asked, his tone jovial and mocking.
***
I still held the binder of horrors tightly in my hands as I stared open-mouthed at this man I thought I knew.
“It’s you? What, you killed Will Lenning and his wife? And a lot of other women, apparently.” Everything felt unreal, as if I were stuck in a dream. Steve’s grin spread across his face, but his blue eyes stayed cold and dead.
“Yes, well, she was cheating on him with me anyway. Just another whore, you know. They always get what’s coming to them in the end,” he hissed with hatred oozing from his voice. “It’s too bad, really. I just killed another slut tonight. I was planning on saving you for later. The urge isn’t too bad yet right now, after all. It comes in cycles, you see. It comes in waves…” I saw a glimmer of pale, naked flesh writhing behind Steve. With jerky movements, the Twisted Man came up behind him. I said nothing, just watching with wide-eyed horror and amazement.
“You need help, man,” I whispered. Steve laughed.
“Help? The only help they give people like me is a needle in the arm. You know that. That’s why it’s important to always cover your tracks…” The Twisted Man ran a long, broken finger across Steve’s neck. Steve gave a strangled cry and jumped. He spun around, screaming. I glanced over at my shotgun next to the couch.
I jumped for it as Steve turned back to me, firing his pistol twice. The first bullet soared high above me, raining wood splinters down on my head, but the second ripped into my leg. A cold, burning pain ran like fire up my shin. I screamed in agony and battle fury as I gripped the shotgun, spinning and firing.
Steve’s head exploded as the slug ripped through his brain. His forehead collapsed like a smashed melon as bone splinters and blood sprayed the wall behind him.
The Twisted Man stood there, hunched over, grinning up at me. I felt warm blood gushing from my leg as I stared back at him, breathing hard. I wondered if I was dying.
“You… you weren’t after me at all, were you?” I asked. “You were after… Steve.” But the Twisted Man said nothing. After a long moment, he slinked back into the shadows of the bedroom and disappeared.
***
As night crawled its way toward morning, I thought back to the words the Twisted Man had spoken through the TV, suddenly understanding everything.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death. Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
He hadn’t been trying to hurt me at all. He had been trying to warn me. He had probably tried to warn Will Lenning and his wife, too.
I wrapped my leg in gauze, gritting my teeth. The wound looked puckered and deep, but I could still move my foot, and the bullet had gone clean through the flesh. I poured alcohol on it, screaming in pain as it burned its way through my skin. After rummaging through Steve’s bathroom, I found some prescription painkillers and swallowed a handful of them with a beer. I knew I would need the opiate high to get through the pain of riding into town with a mutilated leg.
As the Sun finally rose, I made my way outside the blood-stained floors of the cabin to my snowmobile. Before I left, I glanced back at that horrid place, the scene of so much torment and death.
In the open doorway, the Twisted Man stood, his back hunched, his rotted lips grinning at me. His hand lifted up into the air with jerky movements and waved.
I waved back as I started the engine and headed into town.

We (young growing family) have narrowed down our house hunt to two options and are struggling to decide as they are actually quite different!
Option 1 - https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/148125902#/?channel=RES_BUY
£ 335 000 Pros: needs little changes, extra bathrooms, 4 bed, slightly more energy efficient
This is a 1970s extended semi. We like the layout and feel like we could pretty much move in with some minor redecorating.
Option 2 - https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/147840710#/?channel=RES_BUY
£ 340 000 Pros: 2 parking spaces, much more character features, , very large garden, large bedrooms, area slightly preferred to option 1
We generally value space and garden size more than new/glossy finish, and the second is a more exciting prospect though are unsure how much work it might require. At the least - sanding and revarnishing wooden floors, recarpeting main bed and ideally also putting in a downstairs WC. At a later date maybe converting kitchen and dining room into an open plan. (Very distant future - loft conversion?) Garden obviously needs work.
What house seems better value, preference aside? Are we possibly overlooking the scale of maintenance and renovations on a 1900s house?
Advice from strangers can sometimes be more helpful than from people you know as it helps take the heart aspect out of it!

I'm playing on maddening and making pretty good progress so far, at chapter 9, but thinking I might reset to fix a choice or two
I've been able to use the one dlc map and Jean paralogue to get certain early units I want to use up to functionality. I had used Jean's paralogue and Micaiah to level Anna 5 times by farming heals from the stationary cavalry hitting a unit who unequipped their weapons to not kill it (also let Framme farm exp by chain guarding thanks to the Dierdre ring), master seal, then second seal into sage (if I'm grinding it anyway is it better for Anna's long term to switch to mage first and grind 10 levels or grind 5 at axe fighter? Which would give her more magic and speed?)
on Veronica's map I used Tiki on Jean reclassed as lance fighter for halberdier and Micaiah on Clanne reclassed as axe fighter for warrior (I used him as a warrior on hard mode and he did great, was determined to make it work on maddening and it is working so far, except for the lack of master seals) to get them to level 10 by farming engagements from the cannoneer. Took a hella long time but it worked. Heals and great sacrifice and Tiki's divine blessing provided enough experience after enough time
as for why I'm thinking of resetting, I just finished Chrom's paralogue; I was intending to use Celine but she's just not as strong as Citrine but I slapped starsphere on her thanks to well scrolls (I've been able to put starsphere on all the units I'm actively using, it's fine) so if I restart I can just use Citrine instead given I've already used scrolls on Celine and wouldn't want to waste it by pivoting now to Citrine. Should I just continue to use Celine? I know she gets slightly higher strength growths in Vidame than magic which is kinda weird but I hear she does well with Soren (though Soren apparently best fits a different unit later who I'd switch him onto for the insane crits with a Corrin or Camila engraving)
is Chrom a good emblem for Chloe or would it be better to use Erika? I'm flipping between those two options for her, just planning on taking cantor from Sigurd. I'm planning to keep her as a lance griffin using the fensalir with the dawn engraving for dodge tanking even if Chloe can apparently do work with the levin sword as a sword griffin. Erika can increase damage dealt plus has a magic weapon, but Chrom gives a boost in strength when equipped and has the engage levin sword
on my Hard mode I always had Tiki on Alear but with Tiki on Jean who would be good for her? Lucina for bonded shield I suppose? Maybe Roy for increased strength and survival? Marth when I get him back?
Warrior Clanne is going to have Edelgard since weapon sync has multiple proc chances and gives a further boost in stength
sage Anna is using Veronica because of the boost on magic and luck. Byleth could also go on Anna for Thyrsus and magic+luck when equipped...
is Halberdier Jean good with Tiki or should I have him use a different emblem?
Alcryst is going to get Lyn
Yunaka has Marth right now but planning to give her Corrin later. Yea I know, Lyn and Corrin but if it works it works
Framme is doing well with S rank Deirdre for Renewal chainguards, but could use Micaiah or Tiki for 100% bonded shields... she can also get benched but she's been putting in great work since getting the Renewal ring before chapter 5. I got really lucky with that one
I plan on using:
Panette warrior with Ike
picket Timerra with either Hector for tanking or Lief to +9 for the bld and some tankiness without taking his bad rank 10 lance. Which would be better for Timerra?
Seadall is getting either Camila for flying dancer or Sigurd for mobile dancer
Hortensia is getting either Byleth or Micaiah, not sure which would be better...
I'm terribly indecisive so advice and such is welcome. Should I restart to not use Celine? I am enjoying the added challenge of maddening while still being able to make use of units I feel like using, like Clanne when he's in an actually effective class for him