Mirror over the kitchen sink
EatingOverTheSink
2023.01.08 00:29 ReptilianJam EatingOverTheSink
Welcome to EatingOverTheSink! Some might call it unconventional, but here, we celebrate the exhilarating, unapologetic indulgence of enjoying your favourite foods over the sink. The kitchen sink is where the best, messiest, and most satisfying culinary experiences happen.
2013.04.24 02:16 420BIF For People Who Piss in The Sink
The home for everyone who wants to save 2 gallons of water each time they pee! Strictly no NSFW posts.
2013.03.14 05:32 Fluxdada That Peeling Feeling
A place to share in the unique joy that is peeling the plastic off of new objects.
2024.05.19 08:17 undone_painting Myopic CNV prognosis?
Hello all,
I was recently diagnosed and currently being treated for what i'm told is a Myopic CNV (m-CNV)
I was reading something on my phone one night, when suddenly I noticed distortion in my vision. I closed my eyes individually and realized that my left eye had what looked like a sink drain effect in the center of my eye's vision. When I would close my eye I would see what I could best describe as the after image of a flash. At first I thought it was something to do with my contact lens, so I removed it but the spot in the center of my vision was still there.
I went to an emergency room that same night, but because there was nobody avaliable to look beyond the surface of my eye, they refered me to an emergency eye clinic and I went the very next day.
At the eye clinic, I was evaluated and they told me that I had something called a Choroidal Neovascular Membrane. I was given an injection of Avastin and given a follow up appointment for 4 weeks later. This all happened less than 24 hours, but a little over 12 hours from onset.
Today has been exactly three weeks after my injection. I still have a dark/blur spot (Scotoma?) in the center of my vision. If I look at a backlit surface, I'm able to see through the darkness better than if it were just an unlit or darker surface, but still looks tinted and kind of distorted. It's like i'm looking through a dark funhouse mirror.
When I try to look at my own reflection with just my left eye, my left eye is blurred out. The further away from my own reflection I am, the more of my face is blurred out. I struggle to read, write and draw when I try to use just my left eye as the spot is at the very center of my vision.
I apologize for the long post. This whole ordeal has been devastating for me. I'm struggling to collect my thoughts but I have a few questions that I was hoping to get answers to:
What is going to happen to me? When should the dark spot and distortion in my vision clear up? Will I have to get these eye injections every month for the rest of my life? Will my other eye also develop this?
Thank you all for your time.
submitted by undone_painting to myopia [link] [comments]
I was recently diagnosed and currently being treated for what i'm told is a Myopic CNV (m-CNV)
I was reading something on my phone one night, when suddenly I noticed distortion in my vision. I closed my eyes individually and realized that my left eye had what looked like a sink drain effect in the center of my eye's vision. When I would close my eye I would see what I could best describe as the after image of a flash. At first I thought it was something to do with my contact lens, so I removed it but the spot in the center of my vision was still there.
I went to an emergency room that same night, but because there was nobody avaliable to look beyond the surface of my eye, they refered me to an emergency eye clinic and I went the very next day.
At the eye clinic, I was evaluated and they told me that I had something called a Choroidal Neovascular Membrane. I was given an injection of Avastin and given a follow up appointment for 4 weeks later. This all happened less than 24 hours, but a little over 12 hours from onset.
Today has been exactly three weeks after my injection. I still have a dark/blur spot (Scotoma?) in the center of my vision. If I look at a backlit surface, I'm able to see through the darkness better than if it were just an unlit or darker surface, but still looks tinted and kind of distorted. It's like i'm looking through a dark funhouse mirror.
When I try to look at my own reflection with just my left eye, my left eye is blurred out. The further away from my own reflection I am, the more of my face is blurred out. I struggle to read, write and draw when I try to use just my left eye as the spot is at the very center of my vision.
I apologize for the long post. This whole ordeal has been devastating for me. I'm struggling to collect my thoughts but I have a few questions that I was hoping to get answers to:
What is going to happen to me? When should the dark spot and distortion in my vision clear up? Will I have to get these eye injections every month for the rest of my life? Will my other eye also develop this?
Thank you all for your time.
2024.05.19 08:06 Mantis_Shrimp47 The monster in the sand dunes turned my brother into a bird
"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”
He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”
Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.
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The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”
He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”
Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.
2024.05.19 08:04 CrikeyitsRoy I Think I am losing my mind
So this has been happening for the past few months. Me and my family live in an apartment of a complex which has been built over an area where victims of gang wars were buried...every night something or the other weird thing happens. One night I heard all the dishes tumble and fall in the kitchen sink but when I went there the dishes were perfectly stacked. When I am alone in the living room at night sometimes through the corner of my eye I see a black figure but when I turn that side it goes away....I get extreme bad vibes from my bedroom bathroom especially at night. For the last few weeks I have been hearing footsteps...but yesterday was the last straw...I heard footsteps just 1 feet away from me. Also I have been getting weird ass dreams ever since my family moved to this apartment(dreams explained in an earlier post. Also whenever I pray to god the noises and the black figure visions stop...the weirdest part I am the only one in my family who experiences all these things....Am I going crazy or is this all real?
submitted by CrikeyitsRoy to Paranormal [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 07:21 wood_chomper A man had been drinking molten wax from my candles.
I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.
submitted by wood_chomper to nosleep [link] [comments]
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.
2024.05.19 07:07 Stage-Piercing727 Best Canvas Gym Bags
 | submitted by Stage-Piercing727 to u/Stage-Piercing727 [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/2pninai3gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=265f4aea2315e62196c9c90b972c1c04b780af35 Looking for a stylish and durable gym bag? Look no further! In this article, we bring you a comprehensive roundup of the best canvas gym bags available today. Whether you're a fitness enthusiast or a casual gym-goer, these bags are designed to provide ample storage, comfort, and convenience during your workout sessions. So if you're in the market for a reliable workout companion, read on to find the perfect canvas gym bag for your needs. From stylish and functional designs to lightweight and spacious options, our selection of canvas gym bags caters to every preferences and requirements. Discover the top-rated options and make an informed decision on the perfect bag to accompany you throughout your fitness journey. The Top 13 Best Canvas Gym Bags
Reviews🔗Premium Waxed Canvas Duffel Bag for Outdoor Adventureshttps://preview.redd.it/vx6u6dy3gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=21ff96d9424931d91ff36ecb6deb90ccdeef3196 I recently had the chance to test out the Readywares Waxed Canvas Duffel Bag on a camping trip, and it truly exceeded my expectations. The first thing that caught my eye was its timeless design and high-quality waxed canvas construction. It's no wonder this bag has a rating of 4.7 out of 5, as users consistently rave about its craftsmanship. Before my trip, I was a little concerned about the stiffness of the waxed canvas, but it quickly softened up as I loaded it with my camping gear. I particularly appreciated the padded handle and base support, which made carrying the duffel bag comfortable and easy, regardless of how heavy it got. The storage options in this Readywares duffel bag are quite impressive as well. With multiple compartments, I had no trouble keeping my items organized throughout my trip. The only downside was the lack of an interior pouch, which would have been beneficial for smaller items. In conclusion, the Readywares Waxed Canvas Duffel Bag is a reliable and stylish choice for anyone in need of a high-quality carryall. Its craftsmanship, storage options, and overall size make it a perfect companion for various activities, ranging from weekend getaways to camping trips. However, it could benefit from the addition of an interior pouch to keep smaller items secure. 🔗Heavy Duty Military Canvas Duffel Baghttps://preview.redd.it/n5hpsm84gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6c29f049e961ac7d16f8e75b3c700d555d923f8e The WHITEDUCK Hoplite Heavy Duty Military Canvas Duffel Bag in Blue is an indispensable travel companion that you can take along no matter where life leads you. This sturdy bag boasts a whopping 204L capacity, perfect for packing all your essentials for a weekend getaway or longer excursions. One of its key features is the high-quality, double-fill cotton canvas with a tight weave, ensuring durability and wear and tear resistance. The weatherproof fabric is reinforced at all stress points too, making it incredibly sturdy. Plus, the fully zipped compartment offers ample space to store larger items without any hassle. A standout feature is the heavy-duty, full-length zippers that can handle oversized and bulky items with ease. The soft and ultra-reliable cotton carry handles equipped with a Velcro tag for quick lifting and carrying add convenience. And let's not forget about the adjustable, removable padded shoulder strap for maximum comfort. The bag's versatility is another significant highlight. Whether you're going camping, using it for gym storage, or during your daily commute, the Hoplite Duffel Bag adapts seamlessly to all your needs. On the downside, some users have mentioned that the bag's dimensions can be a bit confusing initially, but after figuring it out, its performance has exceeded all expectations. In a nutshell, the WHITEDUCK Hoplite Heavy Duty Military Canvas Duffel Bag combines durability, capacity, and versatility to provide a top-notch travel experience. Its excellent workmanship gives it the robustness and longevity you desire in a duffel bag. This product is undoubtedly a worthwhile investment for those seeking a reliable travel companion. 🔗Extra Large Capacity Canvas Duffel Baghttps://preview.redd.it/fudl88o4gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=52537af64f56bfdaa4d1f21e870515ce2e9cdc7e I recently found myself in need of a reliable and spacious bag for a camping trip, and that's when I came across the YoKelly 36 inch Canvas Duffel Bag. I have to say, this high-quality canvas duffel has been a game-changer for all my outdoor adventures since then. I was initially skeptical about the capacity given its light weight of just 1.2 lbs, but boy, was I in for a pleasant surprise. This Deluxe Canvas Duffel Bag truly delivers on its promise of a spacious 100L storage capacity, making it perfect for travel, camping, fishing, and sports as well. The high-quality canvas ensures durability and the solid stitching provides extra strength and resistance against wear and tear. Its dimensions of 36x13x13 inches are just the right size for packing all my essentials without feeling bulky or cumbersome. However, one minor drawback I noticed is that it only has one compartment for organization. While this didn't cause any major issues during my camping trip, I do wish there were additional pockets for smaller items to keep everything more organized. Overall, the YoKelly 36 inch Canvas Duffel Bag has made my life so much easier and more convenient, offering ample storage space in a lightweight, durable, and versatile package. If you're on the hunt for the perfect travel, camping, or sports bag, I highly recommend giving this duffel a try. 🔗Durable Military Canvas Duffle Bag for Long Tripshttps://preview.redd.it/j9z5erz4gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4fbebbd6271366160de8ec3c20d4ae86a9ba5495 When I first laid my eyes on the Rothco Gi Style Canvas Double Strap Duffle Bag, I knew that it was a perfect match for my travel needs. This military-inspired bag checks all the boxes for durability, ample storage space, and versatile carrying options. Made of 22 oz heavyweight cotton canvas material, it's been built with utmost durability, making it the go-to option for all your long and short trips. The generous dimensions of 22 inches x 38 inches allow me to pack plenty of clothes and gear effortlessly. I especially love the adjustable shoulder straps and the sturdy handle for conveniently carrying it like a suitcase or a backpack. This flexibility gives me the freedom to pack even more stuff while ensuring comfort on long commutes. The additional side pocket with a snap closure is a bonus for keeping small items or travel documents organized and easily accessible. I've been using this duffle bag for everything from overnight trips to the gym and it has exceeded my expectations in every way. However, some users have reported a strong odor upon receiving the item. This can be a bit off-putting, but a couple of washes usually do the trick. The Rothco Gi Style Canvas Double Strap Duffle Bag is a smart buy for anyone looking for a reliable, large-capacity bag made from high-quality materials. Its versatile design, durability, and practical features make it an ideal choice for all your travel adventures. 🔗Steeletex Antimicrobial Gym Bag in Navyhttps://preview.redd.it/nulppjb5gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=712cd2feb44222cbb511154d7b66cfff1e3e3e88 I recently got introduced to the Steeletex Gym Bag by Steele Canvas, and I must say, I've been thoroughly impressed with its performance and quality. The first thing that caught my eye was the unique construction material - it's not your regular canvas or nylon bag. This one has an antimicrobial vinyl coating that not only provides water resistance but also ensures easy cleaning. One of the standout features of this bag is its size. It's perfect for holding all my gym clothes, sneakers, and even my favorite water bottle. I've been using it regularly since I got it, and it has shown no signs of wear and tear yet. Speaking of which, the durability of this bag is another highlight. The 18.5 oz. antimicrobial vinyl coated nylon liner is not just water and tear-resistant, but it's also treated with BACshield, which ensures that mold, mildew, fungi, or bacteria don't get a chance to grow. The Steeletex Gym Bag also comes with a couple of convenient pockets - one inside and one outside. These have been incredibly useful for keeping my belongings organized. As for the design, the black leather hand grips add a touch of class to the overall aesthetic. Besides, the adjustable shoulder strap ensures comfort even during long gym sessions. However, there's one thing that I would've appreciated more - if they had included a mesh or ventilated pocket for storing wet clothes or shoes separately. This would have made the bag even more versatile and useful. But all in all, I've been thoroughly happy with my Steeletex Gym Bag. Its durability, size, and convenience make it an excellent companion for my daily gym visits. Plus, knowing that it's made in America by hardworking American craftsmen adds an extra layer of satisfaction to my purchase. I would highly recommend this bag to anyone looking for a reliable and high-quality gym bag. 🔗Classic Canvas Duffle Bag for Travelhttps://preview.redd.it/9p0zegu5gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=51a81f51f1965da95f5a011d4550b16b3373c90c First off, picture yourself embarking on a weekend getaway with nothing more than this trusty Trailmaker duffel bag at your side. The 30-liter capacity ensures you'll have ample space for all your essentials - be it clothes, shoes, or even your favorite dance attire for weekend classes! And don't worry about wearing it out yet. This durable canvas bag is built to last, so you can make countless travel adventures with it. One thing I noticed about this bag is how versatile it really is. Not only does it serve as an excellent carry-on for flights, but it proved to be quite handy for daily trips to the gym as well. Its lightweight design ensures easy portability, especially when combined with its adjustable shoulder strap. Plus, the simple yet elegant design pairs well with any outfit, whether you're dressing up or down. However, there are some cons to consider. Some users reported issues with the quality of the bag, particularly the zipper which tends to jam often. The lack of compartments inside can also lead to a messy bag when overstuffed. However, considering its affordable price point and high ratings among users, these minor drawbacks seem overshadowed by the overall positive experience most reviewers have had with this bag. Overall, the Trailmaker duffel bag is a reliable choice for individuals seeking a spacious, durable, and affordable bag for travel, gym use, or everyday needs. Despite some reported issues with the zipper and lack of compartments, the majority of reviewers seem satisfied with their purchase, highlighting the immense utility and convenience offered by this bag. 🔗Classic Vintage Duffle Baghttps://preview.redd.it/vnmvuu46gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=59daea38662ad9f1fd7434ad575680f64f8592e7 I recently had the chance to try out the Sweetbriar Classic Weekender Duffel and I must say, it's been a game-changer for my travel needs. The moment I laid my eyes on its vintage-inspired canvas design with retro rucksack vibe, I knew this bag meant serious style. One of the features that really stood out was its spacious interior. It comfortably fit all my essentials for a weekend getaway, including clothes, toiletries, and even some extras like a small travel pillow. Speaking of extras, the bag has several pockets both outside and inside, which are perfect for storing smaller items like wallets or keys. Another thing I appreciated was how easy it was to clean. I'm known for being a bit clumsy, so accidents are inevitable. But with this duffel, a damp cloth was enough to wipe away any spills or stains. However, there was one issue I encountered. The zipper closure, while sturdy and secure, was a bit tricky to navigate at times. It took me a few attempts to get it right, which felt a little frustrating. All in all, I'm quite satisfied with the Sweetbriar Classic Weekender Duffel. It's stylish, practical, and well-built, making it an ideal choice for short trips or gym sessions. It's definitely worth considering if you're in the market for a new bag. 🔗MOLLYGAN Large Capacity Canvas Gym Baghttps://preview.redd.it/dyutqkh6gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=be53c4b16e4f4756fc1e97e0a390a28a28ed4a06 I've never been the type to travel lightly - I've always packed everything but the kitchen sink. But recently, I stumbled upon this MOLLYGAN Travel Duffel Bag, and I must say, my travel game just leveled up! The black exterior made it perfect for both genders, but what really caught my eye was the superior-quality, soft and smooth canvas material. The structure of this bag is quite impressive too. The side zipper pocket provided a separate space for my shoes (goodbye, smelly gym bag! ) whereas the spacious main compartment and small zipper pocket proved that even though the bag was large in capacity, it was well-organized. Its 35 liters capacity was more than enough to accommodate all my laptops, A4 books, clothes, and daily essentials. Whether going for a leisurely trip or a hectic gym session, this bag had my back. Measuring 18.8 x 10.2 x 11 inches, the bag was just the right size for convenience yet offered so much space. However, the product did have one hiccup, the shoulder strap. It was long and adjustable, but at times, it felt a bit too long, and the handles could have been a tad longer, making it a little harder to carry around. In conclusion, the MOLLYGAN Travel Duffel Bag has undoubtedly improved my daily travel experiences. With its large capacity, durable construction, and ample organization options, it has become a necessity for my daily activities. While it could do with a few adjustments (pun intended), it has nonetheless proven to be a reliable companion. 🔗Military-Grade Canvas Duffel Backpackhttps://preview.redd.it/mw7zj5w6gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8834e11142011dbcdc59b5b3aca467f7739586cd I recently embarked on a weekend getaway with just the Military Duffel Backpack in tow. The modern green color added a trendy touch to my outfit, and upon closer inspection, I could see that the canvas duffel was indeed made of high-quality, water-repellent material. I felt confident that my belongings were well-protected, even in a sudden downpour. The adjustable shoulder straps came in handy as I traversed through the crowded city streets, allowing me to find the perfect fit and distributing the weight of my stuff evenly. One feature I particularly appreciated was the heavy-duty cross-stitched carrying handle. I found it incredibly useful when I wanted to switch up my carrying style and convert the backpack into a traditional duffel bag. The stainless eyelets and rugged buckles made the whole process incredibly smooth and secure. However, I did encounter a minor issue with the top clasp that held everything closed. It was slightly smaller than the holes on the flaps, so the bag wasn't completely sealed. While this didn't affect its overall performance during my trip, I did have to exercise a bit more caution to prevent anything from slipping out. To sum it up, the Military Duffel Backpack is a reliable and fashionable bag that offers ample space and thoughtful storage options. The canvas material ensures durability and water resistance, while the adjustable straps offer comfort and convenience. Although the top clasp could be slightly improved, I would definitely recommend this backpack for travelers and everyday adventurers alike! 🔗Extra Large Yoga Mat Duffel Bag with Hammockhttps://preview.redd.it/ru42be77gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c1ca7e587c46f27f4cf6bf689a94a6466b4daee5 I've been using the Kindfolk Yoga Mat XL Duffel Bag Mesa for a few weeks now and I must say, it's been a game-changer for my daily yoga practice. The highlight of this bag is undoubtedly the ample amount of space it provides. After spending days googling 'XL yoga duffel bags', I finally decided to give this one a shot when I saw that it could fit multiple yoga mats, blocks and towels - and boy, was it true! I've never been able to bring everything I need to the studio or gym with such ease. Another thing that I absolutely love about this bag is that it's vegan and environmentally friendly. As someone who's conscious about their impact on the environment, knowing that I'm using a product that aligns with my values gives me peace of mind. Plus, for every unit sold, Kindfolk donates $1 to FITS STANDARD, a charity that helps end slavery worldwide. However, one of the cons I noticed is that the straps could be slightly longer. While it's not a deal-breaker for me, it can be a bit cumbersome when carrying it on top of everything else. All in all, I am thrilled with my purchase and would definitely recommend it to others. Not only is it spacious and stylish, but it also feels well-made and of high quality. For those looking for a reliable and environmentally-friendly bag for their yoga practice, the Kindfolk Yoga Mat XL Duffel Bag is definitely worth considering. 🔗Casual Canvas Travel Gym Bag for daily jog or triphttps://preview.redd.it/028p45j7gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5a4272acaf25dc3fd3b5fbc710c447805a213524 Imagine this: I'm strolling down the bustling city streets, and my trusty Vagabond Traveler Casual Canvas Bag is by my side. This bag isn't just a carry-all for my gym gear; it's a statement about my sense of style and practicality. The first time I used this bag, I was blown away by its spacious interior. It holds everything I need for a workout and more, from my sneakers to my sweat towel, and even a spare change of clothes. The multiple pockets (and there are plenty) kept me organized and efficient, making my mornings just a little bit easier. The Vagabond Traveler bag's construction is a testament to its craftsmanship. This bag isn't just made to last; it's made to look good while doing it. The canvas is a beautiful shade of khaki, and the vintage brass hardware adds a touch of class. The cotton fabric is incredibly comfortable to carry, and it's clear that it's been washed and worn to achieve its classic, old-school appearance. Now, every time I strap this canvas bag onto my shoulder, I'm reminded of its many merits. It's the perfect blend of practicality, durability, and visual appeal. However, some users may find the strap too long or the lack of waterproofing a concern. But for me, these minor quibbles don't detract from the overall quality and utility of this amazing gym bag. In conclusion, the Vagabond Traveler Casual Canvas Bag has become an indispensable part of my daily life. Its combination of space, organization, and style makes it the ideal choice for anyone looking for a reliable gym bag that's both functional and fashionable. 🔗Durable Waxed Canvas Duffle Baghttps://preview.redd.it/8d14r128gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=00e1e6a80d0c05de04d77a435dd45950627c8ac8 I recently purchased the Steele Canvas Waxed Canvas Duffle Bag for an upcoming travel adventure, and I must say, it has surpassed all of my expectations. As soon as I laid my eyes on it, I was impressed by its sleek and sturdy appearance, which instantly made me feel confident about its durability. The adjustable shoulder strap and brown leather grip handles felt comfortable against my shoulder and hands, making it a pleasure to carry around. The moment I unzipped the bag, I noticed the generous space inside, perfect for holding all of my essentials without any clutter. The two interior pockets are an added bonus, allowing me to keep my smaller items organized and easily accessible. The exterior side and end pockets have also proven to be quite useful for storing my frequently needed items. One of the key features I truly appreciated is the nickel plated zipper and pull, making it easy for me to secure my belongings without any worry about potential malfunctions. Steele Canvas has truly created a high-quality, durable bag that is sure to withstand the test of time. Despite the minor inconvenience of needing two hands to secure the zipper on the outside pocket, I believe this duffle bag is a perfect addition to my travel collection. The Steele Canvas Waxed Canvas Duffle Bag has definitely made a lasting impression on me, and I am already looking forward to using it on countless more adventures. 🔗Durable and Versatile Military-Grade Canvas Gym Baghttps://preview.redd.it/ndwsbla8gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=23a77d45be6c0b639381d50961e59b04f7aff422 As a product reviewer, I recently got the chance to try out the Medium Duffle Bag in black, and my experience has been nothing short of exceptional. I've been using it for everything from weekend trips to gym sessions, and it's truly become a staple in my daily routine. The bag's most striking feature, hands down, is its heavy-duty construction. The double and triple-needle-stitched reinforced design not only gives it a sleek look that fits any environment but also ensures that it can handle even the heaviest loads without a hitch. I've noticed its durability in various situations - from transporting bulky sports gear to storing off-season clothing, this duffel bag has never let me down. One of the things I love about this duffel bag is how versatile it is. Made from lightweight yet durable cotton canvas, it's perfect for travel, sports, and leisure activities. Its convenient collapsible feature when not in use makes storage a breeze, and it's been especially useful during my many camping trips. Despite its size, the bag is surprisingly easy to carry around. Reinforced handles and adjustable shoulder straps make sure that I can handle even the heaviest loads comfortably. Plus, the two-way zipper and key-locking mechanism offer extra security for my belongings. However, one small area of improvement could be the weight of the bag itself. While it's definitely not a deal-breaker, considering the durability and high-quality materials used, some users might find it slightly heavier than desired. All in all, I'm extremely satisfied with my Medium Duffle Bag. Its combination of sturdy construction, versatility, and ease of use make it a worthwhile investment for anyone in need of a reliable bag for travel, sports, or everyday use. Buyer's GuideCanvas gym bags are a versatile and stylish choice for active people who prioritize functionality and quality. With the right features and construction, these bags can become an essential part of your fitness routine, ensuring that your gear stays organized and protected during workouts and commutes.Important Featureshttps://preview.redd.it/2z69m8r8gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0448721c5b560ead176ce13e8bed48e6c0f4d72e
Considerations
General Advice
https://preview.redd.it/84isyv89gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=eeb51bbcc7b25a80254804c73a4ddc9fbd802018 FAQWhat are Canvas Gym Bags and what are they used for?Canvas Gym Bags are sturdy, versatile, and environmentally friendly bags designed for carrying sports and workout clothing, shoes, and accessories. Made from high-quality canvas material, they are suitable for various activities, including gym workouts, swimming, yoga, and outdoor sports.Why should I choose a Canvas Gym Bag over other materials?https://preview.redd.it/8g3ow8p9gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=539d40a4189e82fcaf7dc4dfded681d3fa308f5f Canvas Gym Bags are eco-friendly and have multiple benefits compared to other materials. They are lightweight, durable, and easy to maintain. Canvas is a breathable material that ensures items inside stay fresh and odor-free. Additionally, canvas is moisture-resistant, making it perfect for storing damp towels and swimsuits. How do I know if a Canvas Gym Bag is waterproof?High-quality Canvas Gym Bags are often treated with water-resistant coatings and may include waterproof zippers or compartments. Check the product description or contact the manufacturer for specific information about water resistance.Do Canvas Gym Bags have compartments for organizing my workout gear?Yes, most Canvas Gym Bags come with multiple compartments and pockets designed to organize your workout essentials. Many bags feature separate shoe compartments, a wet pocket for storing damp items, and small pockets for storing smaller items like keys, wallets, and phones. https://preview.redd.it/h9utri5agb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=adb8b5cc01275872e0fe1543270afe579eb34bd4 How do I clean a Canvas Gym Bag?Cleaning a Canvas Gym Bag is easy and can be done at home. Simply remove any dirt or debris with a soft brush or cloth. Then, mix a few drops of gentle detergent with water and gently clean the bag's interior and exterior. Rinse thoroughly and air dry away from direct sunlight. It is recommended to consult the manufacturer's care instructions for specific cleaning guidance.How do I choose the right size for a Canvas Gym Bag?Selecting the right size depends on the type and amount of workout gear you'll be carrying. Consider the dimensions of the bag and the volume it can hold. If you're unsure, read reviews from other customers or consult the manufacturer's recommendations for size guidance.Are Canvas Gym Bags suitable for travel?Yes, Canvas Gym Bags are versatile and can be used for travel. Their durability and lightweight nature make them suitable for short trips and weekend getaways. Some Canvas Gym Bags even come with additional features, such as luggage tags or straps, to make traveling easier.Can Canvas Gym Bags be personalized or customized?Yes, many manufacturers offer customization options for Canvas Gym Bags. This can include adding your name or initials, choosing a specific design or pattern, or even selecting custom colors. Personalized or customized bags make great gifts and can help you easily identify your bag amidst a crowded gym or locker room.What is the price range for Canvas Gym Bags?The price range for Canvas Gym Bags varies depending on factors such as size, quality, and additional features. Prices can range from $20 for basic models to over $100 for high-end, designer options. Consider your budget and specific needs when selecting a Canvas Gym Bag to ensure you get the best value for your money.As an Amazon™ Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases. |
2024.05.19 06:43 scorpiobatr !!!!! Nothing is a coincidence.
submitted by scorpiobatr to buddie [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 03:49 FrickenBeaster Now I'm really stumped
 | Sup submitted by FrickenBeaster to AutoDetailing [link] [comments] So I have a 2013 Tacoma that I purchased knowing the paint wasn't 10000%. It's the Toyota Super White paint which is horrible and is flaking for me. I got lazy and neglected washing my truck as much as I typically do. That has seem to have caused a weird staining on the truck that I can't explain. I've tried different cleaners, soaps, clay, and hand polishing. Haven't busted out the DA yet as I don't want to remove any paint if I have the choice. Nothing seems to been working short of just throwing the kitchen sink at it. You guys have any ideas or recommendations to combat this weird staining I seem to have going on right now? It doesn't discriminate and is all over the truck. |
2024.05.19 03:02 Bar-Hopper-Cow95 Need advice on roaches…
Today I found my second ever baby roach dead in the middle of my kitchen. First one was over a month ago and it was randomly dead under my sink. I’m a big germaphobe so I swept the dead body outside and immediately cleaned all my floors and vacuumed my bedroom(only area with carpet). Now I’m just freaked out that there’s an infestation or something. I checked every nook and crevice everywhere but don’t see anything. I’m on the first floor and I do know my upstairs neighbor has a dog and a kid but yet I never see them take the pup outside. I don’t keep any food open anywhere and all dog treats are sealed in jars. Same for their food. Should I be really worried about this??
submitted by Bar-Hopper-Cow95 to Apartmentliving [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 01:46 TheWalkToGlory Kitchen sink faucet keeps coming extremely loose.
 | First and foremost, I'm a tenant (have yet to bring this up because they are dealing with other stuff and its not a company + theyve done it all themselves over covid and dont wanna stress them if need be) and my kitchen sink faucet keeps coming loose to the point of being able to straight pull it out. I am the one that does dishes and can say I don't use any excessive force, I simply move it left to right as need be. submitted by TheWalkToGlory to askaplumber [link] [comments] I have a wrench that I've been using to tighten it as need be so I can continue using it, but this is the 3rd time I've had to do it now in like 1.5-2 months ish. Is there anything I can do as a tenant, like is this an easy fix or something I can do? TLDR; kitchen sink faucet keeps coming loose tightening the nut works for about 2 weeks before needing to redo, looking for proper solution. |
2024.05.19 01:07 BTJ2019 When fragrance-free lotions STING your skin
I'm experiencing a frustrating battle with eczema on the inside of my arms between my forearms and biceps -- ditto for an eczema patch on my chest + the front of my neck. I've been battling this for around 2 weeks.
I've literally been throwing the kitchen sink --- trying various fragrance-free and lotions accepted by the National Eczema Association that usually have worked well for me in the past. And I've tried several different ones (from LaRoche Posay, Cerave, Aveeno, Bioderma, etc.) -- for whatever reason, when I've applied any of them to those areas with eczema -- it STINGS. Seems like a "broken" skin barrier. Also I use fragrance-free soap-free body washes like Honest Soothing Therapy Eczema Body Wash.
The least irritating over-the-counter topical lotions/creams I've been able to apply with minimum (but not zero) irritation are Cerave Itch Relief Moisturzing Cream --- and Triple Paste diaper rash cream (both products approved by the National Eczema Association). But I'm not seeing any improvement even with those 2 creams.
I'm open to hearing suggestions for any over-the-counter lotions + creams that have worked well for you when your usual lotions + creams for eczema have stung your skin. Thanks!
p.s. -- something one of my friends suggested is to NOT put any lotion or cream on the eczema patches -- is that a solution that has worked for any of you?
submitted by BTJ2019 to eczema [link] [comments]
I've literally been throwing the kitchen sink --- trying various fragrance-free and lotions accepted by the National Eczema Association that usually have worked well for me in the past. And I've tried several different ones (from LaRoche Posay, Cerave, Aveeno, Bioderma, etc.) -- for whatever reason, when I've applied any of them to those areas with eczema -- it STINGS. Seems like a "broken" skin barrier. Also I use fragrance-free soap-free body washes like Honest Soothing Therapy Eczema Body Wash.
The least irritating over-the-counter topical lotions/creams I've been able to apply with minimum (but not zero) irritation are Cerave Itch Relief Moisturzing Cream --- and Triple Paste diaper rash cream (both products approved by the National Eczema Association). But I'm not seeing any improvement even with those 2 creams.
I'm open to hearing suggestions for any over-the-counter lotions + creams that have worked well for you when your usual lotions + creams for eczema have stung your skin. Thanks!
p.s. -- something one of my friends suggested is to NOT put any lotion or cream on the eczema patches -- is that a solution that has worked for any of you?
2024.05.19 00:59 GoAheadMMDay UPDATE 3: Torment Techniques Used by Canadian and US Militaries
 | Update #3 appears at the bottom. submitted by GoAheadMMDay to Liberty [link] [comments] Due to numerous disparaging comments by multiple individuals, I have reposted my article. Heckling does not change what occurred. People need to know these truths, especially those who have experienced the same. They need to know they are sane, that such things are indeed being perpetrated, and the perpetrators use shame to silence them and protect their activities. I write to encourage them not to listen to disparaging people who speak without knowledge. February 10, 2024 I am Joseph Cafariello, a Canadian citizen and ex-member of the Canadian military. Of sound mind, not on medication, not a drug user, not a marijuana smoker, not an alcohol drinker, with no mental disorders. I recently posted to this Liberty subreddit experiences of harassment by Vancouver's police and fire departments (Vancouver, BC, Canada). I’m the fellow who was repeatedly ordered by police to stay out of Vancouver’s Stanley Park, and was continually harassed whenever I visited the park (which I do every second day on my early morning walks). Immediately following that post, they changed some of the techniques they use in my case. They were either informed of my post or found it themselves, seeing as my internet activity, and phone activity for that matter, are under continuous surveillance (plenty of proof which I will not include here to avoid running off-topic). In this post, I would like to shed some light on other harassment which is still ongoing, since it occurs in private, away from potential observers. It involves the Canadian and US militaries. Havana Syndrome In 2016, numerous employees of the Canadian and US embassies in Havana, Cuba, started experiencing head injuries ranging from mild headaches to concussions. It happened in their sleep, and came to be called Havana Syndrome. Wikipedia explains (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Havana\_syndrome): “Havana syndrome is a cluster of idiopathic symptoms experienced mostly abroad by U.S. government officials and military personnel. The symptoms range in severity from pain and ringing in the ears to cognitive dysfunction and were first reported in 2016 by U.S. and Canadian embassy staff in Havana, Cuba. Beginning in 2017, more people, including U.S. intelligence and military personnel and their families, reported having these symptoms in other places, such as China, India, Europe, and Washington, D.C. The U.S. Department of State, Department of Defense, and other federal entities have called the events "Anomalous Health Incidents" (AHI). Of over a thousand purported cases, the majority of US investigative bodies found only a few dozen cases to be suspicious.” Ladies and gentlemen, I can tell you exactly what happens, because I have been experiencing this since I first joined the Canadian military back in 2002, and am still experiencing these “torments” (as I call them) to this day, already 3 years after leaving the military. I go to bed. In about 15 minutes, just as I am on the cusp of falling asleep, a hear and feel a heavy thud reverberate and ultimately strike my skull. My body releases a sharp burst of adrenalin, my heart starts racing, and my blood’s circulation speeds up significantly. Depending on the severity of the blow, it can take me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to fall asleep again. Though there have been times I could not return to sleep for more than 2 hours. A strong headache is felt immediately, and lasts for hours. There have been times when my heart felt like it was going to burst, having been startled as such. The pulse to the head sometimes reverberates through the wall and my bed’s headboard. I distinctly feel as though I have been hit on the top of my skull. At other times, it feels as though the pulse has come through the air, striking the side of my skull. This is not a sleep disorder, for it does not occur regularly. At times, my sleep is disturbed in this manner 3 or 4 days in a row. At other times, there is no disturbance for up to a week. But they never let me go more than a week without such interruptions to my sleep. Neither is it sleep apnea, as I do not awaken gasping for breath. The pounding headaches, sudden release of adrenaline, and heart palpitations I experience are caused by external impacts of sound waves or air bursts. Sonic Weapons How these pulses are produced is not easy to identify. As Wikipedia explains: “Once the story became public, various U.S. government representatives attributed the incidents to attacks by unidentified foreign actors, and various U.S. officials blamed the reported symptoms on a variety of unidentified and unknown technologies, including ultrasound and microwave weapons.” Sonic weapons have been in use for many years by militaries, and by police in crowd control. As Wikipedia explains (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonic\_weapon): “Some sonic weapons make a focused beam of sound or of ultrasound; others produce an area field of sound. As of 2023 military and police forces make some limited use of sonic weapons.” (Do not believe the 2023 timeline. The Canadian military has been using these weapons since the early 2000’s at the latest.) Wikipedia continues: “Extremely high-power sound waves can disrupt or destroy the eardrums of a target and cause severe pain or disorientation. This is usually sufficient to incapacitate a person. Less powerful sound waves can cause humans to experience nausea or discomfort.” The users of these technologies must also be using thermal detection equipment to monitor the target’s sleep. As I mentioned, I most often feel these blows the moment I am falling asleep. Body temperature drops when we sleep, and brain activity slows. Heat-detection equipment is likely being used to identify the point at which the target is falling asleep. Why they prefer to strike at the start of someone’s sleep as opposed to the middle of their sleep, I do not know. Perhaps their intent is to deprive the body of early sleep, limiting the amount of deep sleep available to the person before their alarm rings in the morning. Ordinary Hammers Not all such “torments” (as I call them) are caused by high-tech equipment. I have heard and felt distinct hammer strikes running along the 2x4 beams inside my walls. These strikes can be a single hard strike, or several strikes in a row. It is definitely caused by a person with a hammer because the intervals between strikes are equidistant in time; that is, the time spacing between strikes is not random and does not change from strike to strike, but is constant between strikes, exactly as when someone is hammering. And no, it is not someone hanging pictures at 1:30 am, multiple times a week, for years. On one occasion, when I was standing at my kitchen sink, I felt the floor-board directly under my feet pulse so sharply it felt like a brick had struck the soles of my feet. In this case, my military neighbour likely used a hammer to strike the floorboard on his side of the wall. It is the only plausible explanation. Surveillance This leads to surveillance of one’s activities at home. I have plenty of proofs of that. They seem insignificant on an individual basis. But when you put them all together, they present a clear picture of home surveillance. My laptop computer’s lid cracked one night, at the bottom left corner of the screen. The next day at work, I heard my military supervisor relate to another co-worker that the night before, his laptop computer’s lid cracked at the bottom left corner. I swear to the Lord in Heaven, I am being truthful. I tested my suspicion of being surveilled. At home one night, I blurted out-loud, “VW Passat. What an ugly sounding word, ‘Passat’”, I said. A few days later, my military colleagues at work started playing a card game at lunch, invented by one of them. The name he gave his game was “Passat”, and when he spoke it, he looked at me for a reaction. If you ever contact the Halifax military base, ask for the Claims Department and ask them if they are still playing Passat. On another occasion, at a time when I frequented the gym every second day for a few years, I suspected my van had been fitted with a listening device. I suspected so because a number of things I had spoken with people about on my phone while in my van (nothing illegal) were repeated by people at the gym in conversations among themselves. Too many times, parts of other people's conversations matched parts of conversations I had had with others while I was in my van. I already knew my phone was being tapped, but I also suspected my van was bugged. So one evening while driving in my van, I blurted out-loud a number of things I said I hated. "I hate (this or that)"; "I hate it when...". One of them was, "I hate when people chew gum with their mouths open." I then vocalized an exaggerated gnawing sound, "Gnaw. Gnaw. Gnaw." The very next time I went to the gym, 2 days later, while I was at an exercise, a fellow sat at an exercise directly behind me. And sure enough, he started chewing with his mouth open, vocalizing that gnawing sound, "Gnaw. Gnaw. Gnaw." I didn't look behind at him, because I knew what was going on, and I wanted to avoid playing into his hand. So he repeated himself again and again until I was done and moved to a different station. Now, honestly, who chews gum at the gym? You can't. Or you run the risk of choking for the heavy breathing, not to mention when laying down on benches. And with precisely the same exaggerated vocalized gnawing sound I had made in my van just 2 days prior. Their whole intent is to let you know you are being surveilled. They want you to know, as both a warning and a provocation. They want you to say something, to launch accusations, which they would readily deny, making you look paranoid. If you react too strongly, they could even have you diagnosed with some kind of disorder, and put you on medication, which further plays into their hand. (More regarding medications in the last section of this post.) This is why, as I mentioned in my previous post, they would park their cars shining their high beams on me as I walked past them during my morning walk. And why on some occasions, a group of 3 or 4 would exit their cars and stand on my path just as I approached, forcing me to go around them. They would then remain standing on the path until my return trip through, and after I had passed by the second time, then would then return to their cars - making it absolutely clear I was their interest. Their intent is not only to make me aware, but also to present themselves in close proximity to me, within easy reach, in the hope I would confront them, resulting in an altercation that could land me in a lot of hot water - 4 witnesses against me, all pleading innocence. Again, it is all designed to make you look bad, and to warrant some kind of legal measure against you - preferably a medical diagnosis, discrediting you in everything you say about them. If they can't refute your claims, their only remaining option is to discredit you. That's what all of these tricks are designed to accomplish. Who would believe anything you say, once you have been diagnosed with a disorder? There are plenty more examples. But who would really believe them? I’ll save them for the future. Home Invasion Both during and after my military service, I have had my apartments entered without any signs of break-ins. How? Lock-picking and duplicate keys. Indications? Missing objects; ie: money, phone adaptor, etc. Nothing major. Just something to make us understand we are being watched, and to make us understand what they can do. But it is always something small, something for which you would be ridiculed for divulging. Two more examples: I found my razor, which I always lay-down razor-end to the wall, turned around, razor-end toward me. Also, in one of my house slippers I found a small shoe sticker on the up-side of the heel. I had those slipper for years, and never had any shoe stickers on them. Yet there it was, clearly visible on the top surface of my slipper, not the bottom. Could I have stepped on a shoe sticker when barefoot in my apartment, only to have the sticker transfer itself to my slipper when I wore it? How many shoe stickers do you have laying around your apartment that you can accidentally step onto? If I had stepped onto a sticker in my apartment and had it stick to my heel, that means the sticky side was up against my skin. This means the sticker would have had to flip upside down such that the sticky side would then be down, allowing the sticker to stick to the slipper. Do you really think that happened? That sticker was not there when I left my apartment, but it was there when I returned. And it was the wrong sticker, wrong brand, wrong size. Again, what is their intent? To make someone look ridiculous so no one will believe them should they speak of other more sensitive things. Staged Incidents The above incidents clearly point to coordinated and staged events (at my work, my home, on my walks, etc). This is so frequently met with incredulity. "But that would require coordination on the part of so many people," the public dismisses. "They wouldn't do that." Oh yes they would, and they have, as explained in https://fightgangstalking.com/. Note the documented cases involving the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS, Canada's equivalent to the US' CIA) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP, Canada's national police force) in the second quote, which were reported in national newspapers. From https://fightgangstalking.com/: “Disruption operations often involve tactics which are illegal, but difficult to prove. These tactics include – but are not limited to – overt surveillance (stalking), slander, blacklisting, “mobbing” (intense, organized harassment in the workplace), “black bag jobs” [home invasions], abusive phone calls, computer hacking, framing, threats, blackmail, vandalism, “street theater” (staged physical and verbal interactions with minions of the people who orchestrate the stalking), harassment by noises, and other forms of bullying. Many of these tactics were used by the FBI during its illegal COINTELPRO operations, as documented by stolen official documents and subsequent Congressional investigations. "Although the general public is mostly unfamiliar with the practice, references to “disruption” operations – described as such – do occasionally appear in the news media, even though that fact would apparently be news to the editors of The New York Times. In May 2006, for example, an article in The Globe and Mail, a Canadian national newspaper, reported that the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) used “Diffuse and Disrupt” tactics against suspects for whom they lacked sufficient evidence to prosecute. A criminal defense attorney stated that many of her clients complained of harassment by authorities, although they were never arrested." She can add me to that list too. For the Benefit of Others The experiences I have recounted here seem so trivial, so insignificant, they make you look ridiculous if you talk about them. But if we don’t talk about such things, no one will ever know about them. Other people have experienced the same, and are forced to endure such torments in silence. They need encouragement to talk about their own experiences, and so I write about mine in the hope they will talk about theirs, even if I do look ridiculous. The perpetrators are more ridiculous for doing them. I remember a military colleague being hauled away by military police one morning, as she was struggling and having a violent fit. A fellow on her floor told me she was throwing chairs at her walls screaming, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”. When he mentioned that, I knew exactly what they had done to her. She was considered unruly, and was being watched intently. They wanted her out, and that is how they accomplished it. Through wall tapping and sleep deprivation, they push you to the breaking point. And when you finally lose control and do something rash, they pounce on you, and you’re out. Now she has a criminal record, considered a criminal when in reality she was a victim. Welcome to the Canadian military, and other militaries besides, I am sure. There are dozens upon dozens of experiences I could present. But who will really read them? Worse still, who will really believe them? I overheard my military supervisor in Halifax whisper to another, “Do you think he knows?”, after I had mentioned one of the many “coincidences” I experienced, but with a tone of my being aware it was not a mere coincidence. As I turned my face to my computer screen, I whispered under my breath, but still loud enough for him to hear, “Yes, (rank) (name), I know.” A few minutes later, as he walked past my desk, he leaned in by my ear and whispered, “We’re just trying to help you.” I should have pressed him for answers right then and there, but you just don’t know how much trouble you can get into when making such accusations in the military. So I let it go. But I will never forget. Should anyone reading this ever decide to launch some kind of inquiry, I can mention names of over 100 people to contact, including military personnel, family members, neighbours, building managers, and others who have been contacted by military personnel with false narratives about me. They flash their ID’s and other credentials, and people believe anything they say. They turn family, friends, co-workers and neighbours against you, even recruiting their participation. Your acquaintances not only participate, but actually feel justified and emboldened playing tricks on you. It isn't their fault, though; they have been misled. I would reference them solely for corroboration. As a final thought, here are explanations of two military programs in which certain persons (sometimes military, sometimes civilian) are kept under constant surveillance, and are in some cases subjected to conditioning in an attempt to turn them into what is called a “sleeper agent”. Almost all of the tactics presented below have been experience by me, including constant surveillance (ie: my previous post here regarding being harassed on my morning walks) and sleep deprivation (as per the top portion of this post, which other military members in Cuba and elsewhere around the world have also experienced). Pentagon’s Signature Reduction Program See Newsweek’s article: https://www.newsweek.com/exclusive-inside-militarys-secret-undercover-army-1591881 Some excerpts from that Newsweek article, plus more background information on the Pentagon’s Signature Reduction Program, can be found here: https://fightgangstalking.com/ “The largest undercover force the world has ever known is the one created by the Pentagon over the past decade. Some 60,000 people now belong to this secret army, many working under masked identities and in low profile, all part of a broad program called “signature reduction.” The force, more than ten times the size of the clandestine elements of the CIA, carries out domestic and foreign assignments, both in military uniforms and under civilian cover, in real life and online, sometimes hiding in private businesses and consultancies, some of them household name companies. “…a little-known sector of the American military, but also a completely unregulated practice. No one knows the program’s total size, and the explosion of signature reduction has never been examined for its impact on military policies and culture. Congress has never held a hearing on the subject. And yet the military developing this gigantic clandestine force challenges U.S. laws, the Geneva Conventions, the code of military conduct and basic accountability. “…The signature reduction effort engages some 130 private companies to administer the new clandestine world. Dozens of little known and secret government organizations support the program, doling out classified contracts and overseeing publicly unacknowledged operations. "Federal spy agencies are using Americans to spy on their fellow citizens – the same approach to governance famously employed by communist East Germany." How to Develop a Hypnotic Sleeper Agent By Dantalion Jones / Masters of Mind Control The following “was” on the web, but has been removed. Surprise, surprise. But I saved its web files to my computer years ago, knowing that sooner or later it would be removed. I made a jpeg image of the web page as it once appeared, attached here. Note that I have experienced almost all of the tactics described below, including the stalking I mentioned in my previous post here (regular walks in the park), the sleep deprivation noted at the top of this post, and the surveillance and intrusions described here as well. Quoting the now-removed webpage: “How to Develop a Hypnotic Sleeper Agent” (from here to end of post): Amid all the conspiracy theories one of the most feared is that there exist "sleeper agents" in our society who are programmed to come into service when they are triggered by a phone call or key word. These alleged sleeper agents don't even know they are programmed to become saboteurs, soldiers, suicide bomber, etc because of the thoroughness of their programming. They are the feared "Manchurian Candidate" that the movies portray. The question is "Are they real?" If they are true sleeper agents there is no way of telling until they are activated. One can however theorize exactly how they are made. Indoctrination Using indoctrination a person can be made to embrace a religious or philosophical belief that would make becoming a sleeper agent possible. This would be a person so committed to an ideal they would be willing to wait patiently as a member of society until they are called into action. These people would know their mission and consciously hold it secret while interacting with the rest of society. Conditioning Conditioning is a repetitive process where the desired responses are enforced and rewarded and unwanted responses are punished. This can be done consciously as part of training drill and it can be done subconsciously using hypnosis or drugs to create amnesia. Hypnosis It has been demonstrated that hypnosis can create "amnesia walls" in which the subject has no conscious memory of what happened in the hypnosis session. It has further been demonstrated that hypnosis can give post hypnotic instruction to be carried out automatically in the waking state without the subject knowing it or questioning the behavior. What follows is conjecture and theory based on testimonials of people who were alleged to be sleeper agents and soldiers. Continuous Supervisions Continuous supervision doesn't mean that the subject is cut off completely from society. It means that they are constantly overseen and every aspect of their lives are managed (without their knowledge or consent) to support their hypnotic programming. This would include: • Repeated reinforcement of all hypnotic conditioning. • Handlers. Handlers are people who help maintain the subjects environment to maintain all the programming. They can play the role of family, friends, lovers, psychologists, coaches or any roll the subject perceives as supportive. The truth is the handlers are their to support the successful fulfillment of the programming and not the subject as a person. • Minimal sleep so that the mind/brain does not process all the sleeper conditioning during sleep. • Creating constant environmental challenges like unemployment or poverty. This gives the subject something other than their programming to focus on. • Frequent hospitalization. This gives overt opportunity to sedate the subject for conditioning. If the subject has a history of hospitalizations for mental disturbances all the better. No one will take them seriously. Joseph Cafariello PS... Today is the second day after this post (February 12, 2024). A garbage truck just slammed into my parked car. PPS... I finish writing this post because I am satisfied with its shape and content; not because of what happened to my car. It is similar to when you are reaching for your coat, and someone tells you, "Take your coat." Since you have to take your coat, your brain tells you it's ok to obey them, and you comply. They just created an instance where they led you, and you followed them. And your brain accepted it. It's a technique the military uses all the time. It trains you to accept instructions from that person or group. Done enough times, you become comfortable obeying them. I just say, "I take my coat because I choose to, not because you tell me to." It's important to make that clear, to block the conditioning and affirm our self-governance; not just to them, but to ourselves as well. Now our brain realizes we took our coat by our own choice; we are still in command. So too, I say regarding today's event. "Thanks for the warning, but I had already finished writing my post. I finished by my own choosing." UPDATES 1 & 2: February 26 & March 07, 2024: My apartment was once again entered while I was out. Either a key was used or the lock was picked. This may or may not have included assistance from building staff. Home invasions are included in the list of their techniques noted above, referred to as "black bag jobs". All tenants on my floor received new fridges a couple of weeks ago. I removed the tape securing the bins inside my new fridge, and also removed all styrofoam pads from the corners of the glass shelves when I repositioned them. The person(s) who have been invading my living space on a regular basis have struck again. As you can see in the photo below, the styrofoam pads on the corners of my fridge's shelves were restored when I was out of my apartment. I had removed all pads when I repositioned the shelves. Yet now they are back. It is a tactic used to undermine our observational awareness in an attempt to make us second-guess and doubt ourselves. The aim is to cause people to feel less sure not only of the things we have done, but also feel less sure of the things others have done. They want us to question the accuracy of our observations and memory. The idea is to train you to dismiss any anomalies you may observe as being your own misperception of things. Once they convince you not to trust your own judgement, they are free to do whatever they want to you, and you will simply accept it without questioning. UPDATE 3: May 18, 2024: Confrontations with individuals keep occurring, at times potentially violent. Following are just 3 such encounters as of late. 1 - Kick-boxer in the park: As I parked my car in one of the parking lots in Vancouver's Stanley Park one night, another vehicle drove up behind me and parked several spots away. A tall man exited that vehicle, and walked hastily along the path I always walk, down some steps to the water's sea wall path. I took my time and followed my usual walk, also down the steps down to the sea wall. The man knew my routine, and was in a hurry to get ahead of me. As I walked along the sea wall, I saw the same man sitting on a bench, playing a loud religious sermon in a foreign language on a device I did not clearly see. As I walked past him, he called out to me to stop and chat. I ignored him and continued walking past. He rose and started walking behind me. I opened my umbrella, turned, and walked past him the other way, returning to the stairs back to the parking lot. He also turned and continued following me. I started running. He also started running. I ran up the steps, as did he. Being taller than I am, his legs are longer than mine, and he quickly caught up to me on a grassy patch at the top of the steps. I turned to him and asked, "Why are you following me?" He did not reply, but stood profile to me, the same stance a kick-boxer uses when ready to kick someone. He was tall, thin, and in excellent physical shape as you would see in a kick-boxer. He did not speak at all, but was just waiting for me to make a move. I turned, entered my vehicle and left. The encounter continued with a chase through the park in our cars. Yes, that is correct. He chased me out of the park in his car. 2 - Told to keep quiet: The perpetrators need to operate with as little detection as possible, and they repeatedly warn their subjects to keep their mouths shut about their experiences. On another of my recent nightly walks, a man stood on the sidewalk ahead of me about half a block away, looked at me, and shouted into the sky at nobody, giving the appearance of being a homeless person shouting for no reason. He then started walking in my direction. I continued walking straight. As he passed me, he leaned into my face and shouted into my ear, "Shut the f_ck up!" I continued walking in my direction, and he resumed walking in his. The idea is to make it seem as though he is just a deranged man wandering the streets at night, shouting at nothing, so that when he shouts at me, any observer would simply dismiss his actions. But in reality, he was sent to send me a message to stop publishing posts like this, which I had done many times on many sites, and continue to. They don't like it when we reveal their methods. But the truth must be known. 3 - You'll be sorry: On another occasion, while returning from grocery shopping one afternoon, I walked past a man sitting by a storefront. He was clean-cut, wearing clean clothes, without any carts or wagons or any belongings of any kind. As I passed him, he asked me for some spare change. I replied, "I'm sorry," and continued walking past. He replied, "You will be." There are numerous other experiences, like two seemingly unassociated men standing on the sea wall about 100 meters away from each other, each of them spitting just as I walked past each one. There are too many experiences to mention. Looking at each experience individually, one would easily dismiss them as being unrelated and simply coincidental. But put them all together and a picture starts to form, like putting together the pieces of a puzzle. As I hand you each piece of the puzzle one by one, you dismiss each piece, saying, "This could be anything." And you discard it. You keep discarding each piece as I hand it to you. By the end of it, you look down at the table and say, "You have nothing." That's because you looked at each piece as a separate item and threw it away. But if you leave the pieces on the table as I hand them to you and do not hastily discard them, you will see they form a clear picture when put all together. We must look at all these events as a whole. Individually, each one could be anything. But when all of these experiences are put together and considered as a whole, they form an undeniable picture. Do not be quick to dismiss each piece. Leave the pieces on the table and look at the whole. The picture I present is sound. Remember, I have all the pieces; you do not. I see the picture more clearly than you do. https://preview.redd.it/we31ymcsm91d1.jpg?width=966&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3d56ac3dd3558a60d477ba9315104d1b66b139f8 |
2024.05.18 23:58 AustralianChrono Chronologica's Drag Race Season 6: Episode 1- Prove Your Worth
 | https://i.redd.it/lnq1hwinb91d1.gif submitted by AustralianChrono to ChronologicasDragRace [link] [comments] In a bright yellow wig, her hair up to high heavens, and a massive black coat with a pair of matching black boots that go up to cover above the coat, Molly Moppit walks in. With a smile on her face, Molly Moppit looks up at the pink wallpaper of the room. “I want that.” Molly smirks, ripping off her coat to reveal a minidress made out of the same pink wallpaper of the werkroom. “Mopped it!” Molly looks around at the empty room. “…and nobody here to see me stun.” She shrugs. “Pity for them!” Molly Moppit: “I’m Molly Moppit, and I’m here to run away with the competition.” Molly winks. “This table’s cuuute.” Molly looks over at the table, before running to a sculpture on the side of the workroom and trying to pull at the sculpture, before realizing it’s glued to the floor. “FUCK!” Molly Moppit: “I am currently based in New Jersey, but I'm a New York staple, as well.” Molly grins. “First and foremost, I’m a NEW JERSEY DRAG QUEEN.” “What about the…” Molly swipes at a coat hanger, tucking it behind her back. Molly Moppit: “Being an Atlantic City Queen means being ready to do what you can to survive. It’s a cutthroat lifestyle, and that’s fine. It taught me to host, perform, serve looks, make ‘em laugh… and it’ll help me to win.” “You saw nothing.” Molly smiles. A lone tumbleweed rolls into the werkroom as clouds of red dust fill the entrance. There are two loud bangs, and on the far wall of the room, two bullet holes tear into the eyes of a hanging portrait of Chronologica. Molly looks over as the portrait falls to the ground, the glass of the frame shattering loudly. When she looks back, a masked bandit stands amidst their midst, blowing smoke from his old-timey pistol. In a cowboy hat, long black jacket, beaded vest, and denim chaps, Ethan Angel-Eye glowers, his nose and mouth hidden behind a vigilante’s black bandana. The room is silent for a long moment. Molly Moppit: “It’s a Mexican Stand-Off. And I’m NOT talking.” Molly and Ethan stare at each other. Ethan Angel-Eye: “Please welcome the best performer this side of the Mississippi, your very own Apache-Dakota bandit vigilante drag king, and the only person here who actually needs to win. I’ve beaten Kaneq and Vitória in lip sync competitions, I’ve out-danced professionally trained celebs; I’m unstoppable onstage and I’m always providing that debonaire dastardly Western rogue fantasy. I’m Ethan Angel-Eye, and I’ve got my eye on this crown.” “The fuck are you supposed to be?” Ethan asks, looking Molly up and down as he strides into the room, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m Molly Moppit, what the fuck YOU supposed to be?” Molly raises an eyebrow. Molly Moppit: “Are we cosplaying as ugly men this season?” “Cute.” Ethan brushes past Molly, and then hops up on one of the werkroom tables, sinking into a menacing squat and looming over the space like a vulture. “It’s pinker here than I thought it’d be.” Ethan glares, looking at her wallpaper look. Molly scoffs. “Course it’s pink. Do you watch the show?” “Do you watch the show?” Ethan parrots back, doing a crude impression of Molly’s voice. “I breathe this show.” Ethan Angel-Eye: “I am not a pretty faerie princess, and I am not everyone’s cup of tea, but I know how to win this, in and out. Some petty little bitch isn’t getting in my way.” “Ooooh, he’s a hater. Love.” Molly laughs, looking up at Ethan as he perches on the table. “What’s your name, my little masked bandit? Here to take some shots at me?” “Ethan Angel-Eye.” Ethan cocks his head to the side. “My shots don’t miss.” “Neither do mine.” Molly smirks. Ethan looks around, as he realizes a button of his top has gone missing. A tall, proud Indian woman struts out from the werkroom entrance, with many elaborate blue hair clips and a strikingly long blue gown which cascades in wave-like shapes behind her into a long train. She gestures broadly with her hands, emphasizing each syllable of her words as if they’re the most important thing anyone’s ever said. “WA-TER-FALL!!!!” Niagara Halls: “New York in the HOUSE what-what!! Hey divas, it’s me, your Desi-American god-DESS of season 6, here to bring upstate pageantry and that Canadian border flair to your screens. I KNOW I’m serving as a pageant fashion icon in this entrance look, you can’t tell me otherwise. Don’t I look GORGEOUS?!” Niagara Halls twirls, the blue gown’s long train wrapping around her feet, then swirling back out again, where it smacks Molly in the knee. “Um, hello, waterfall woman.” Molly exclaims, pulling away to avoid being smacked again. “Hello, hello!” Niagara Halls waves an emphatic wave to Molly and Ethan before daintily picking up her gown’s train with one hand and gently striding to sit at the werkroom table Ethan is perched on. “How are we?” Molly reaches over and snatches a hair clip from Niagara’s hair, causing several long brown locks to tumble into Niagara’s face. “Oh! You–” Niagara looks baffled. “So it’s gonna be THAT kind of season!” Ethan rolls his eyes, looking decidedly down at the two girls. Molly laughs. “No, oh my gosh! I just love these clips! Where’d you get them?” Niagara pulls the fallen hair out of her face and clips it into another one of her clips, chuckling. “You WISH I would tell you. You could use the help with that mop!” “MOP!” Molly bursts out laughing. “You don’t even know!” “What’s your drag, what’s your name, who are you both? I need to know who I’m demolishing here.” Niagara smiles a huge smile, talking with her hands again. “But where is the clips from?” Molly asks. “I-” Niagara looks into the mirror. “...You didn’t buy the clips?!” Molly says dramatically, putting on a gasping face. “Who did?!” “What’s your names?” Niagara smiles awkwardly. Niagara Halls: “My Drag Mother helped with the outfit! I don’t know!” “I’m Molly Moppit.” Molly grins. “Atlantic City roya–” Ethan interrupts. “Ethan Angel-Eye. And you’re Niagara Halls.” Niagara enthusiastically tosses her hair (and all of its clips) back and forth. “I KNOW you know me, that’s right, that’s right!” Ethan nods. “You lost Miss Toronto to Vitória Benedita.” Niagara gasps. Niagara Halls: “How did this MAN KNOW me?!” Ethan Eagle-Eye: “Does no one look at reddit on their way to the season? Scope the competition out.” A mysterious black mist seeps through the entrance of the werkroom, followed by a devilish laugh. Lokii struts in, and flips a green cape, revealing their face and leather-clad body. Golden horns, almost corrupted with black veins connected to his face, just from Lokii’s forehead. In thin black hands, Lokii holds a corrupted golden scepter and a smoke machine. She smirks, and her Londoner accent is obvious when she speaks. “I am Lokii, of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.” “We’re all stealing something, aren’t we?” Molly jokes. “I don’t get it.” Niagara says. “Loki. Marvel.” Ethan says gruffly. “Welcome, nerd.” Molly smiles, as Lokii runs over. Lokii blushes deep red. “Oh my gosh. Hello!” Lokii: “I’m Lokii, and low-key? Aye, I’m pretty bloody psyched to be here! I’m 22 years old, visiting from across the pond by way of South London, and like, I’m pretty new to drag, but cosplay has been a huge part of my life since I was really young, and I’ve felt really called to take it in this new direction!” “So are you really called Lokii? Like the Norse god?” Molly investigates every inch of Lokii’s outfit. “The… Disney character?” Niagara ponders. “I don’t watch superhero movies.” “They are.” Ethan flexes his ankles, looking at Lokii with an intense stare. “You’re the Tumblr cosplayer, right?” Lokii nods, smiling. “Yeah! Loki was the first character I did in cosplay. We have a long history, he and I!” “And so you came to Chronologica’s Drag Race dressed up in your little Marvel cosplay character!” Niagara chuckles nastily. Lokii laughs awkwardly, making their way to the table. “Yep!” “You look incredible, by the way.” Lokii smiles at Niagara. “This is a really beautiful garment.” “I KNOW, baby, thank you.” Niagara smiles daggers. “You’re pretty new, right?” Lokii looks surprised. “Oh, I–” “JUST teasing!” Niagara laughs. Lokii: “I have.. Not been doing drag, that long. But I have been crafting, designing and MAKING things for years. I think that’s my edge…” Lokii smiles slightly awkwardly. Ethan Angel-Eye: “So far, the girls are…childish.” “Wait, what’s this?” Lokii picks up a brown paper bag on one of the werkroom tables and reads something written on it in sharpie. “Barf bags…for if you gag too hard?” Niagara makes a face. “What the fuck?” Suddenly, in a sculpted silver one-piece with sharp ridges and bulky shoulders, a stylized mop of blonde and pink curls, super-shadowed fierce makeup and chunky black boots with chains, Lady Gag arrives. In an exact recreation of one of Lady Gaga’s looks from the 2009 VMAs, she purrs. “Dirty pony, I can’t wait to hose you down.” Ethan makes an obvious look of disgust. Niagara stops laughing very suddenly. Molly laughs even harder. “HEAVY METAL LOVER!” Lokii yells, before covering her mouth as if she is in fear of being too loud. Lady Gag: “When our Lord and Saviour Gaga said ‘No matter gay, straight, or bi', lesbian, transgender life?” Lady Gaga smirks. “She was talking first and foremost about me. Are you gagging? I’m Lady Gag, foremost Gaga impersonator of Miami, Florida, and the most gag-worthy woman known to man. Mama I am known to man, if you know what I mean.” Lady Gag strikes poses in the entrance, twisting her arms into strange shapes and cocking her head at strange angles. “Everyone, just imagine Alejandro is playing over this.” “I’m imagining it.” Molly says, smiling and still laughing. Niagara looks nonplussed, Ethan looks dismissive, and Lokii looks shy, but Molly warmly greets Lady Gag with a firm handshake. “Welcome, Miss Gaga, welcome! You’re giving very 2000 and late! I’m Molly Moppit. Atlantic City roya–” “MRS. Moppit.” Lady Gag stops her, putting a hand up. “Don’t try to read me with those smile lines and bags under your eyes. I’m 2000 and fresh off the boat if you ever saw it. You will not be coming for me on this, the day of my arrival.” Molly’s jaw drops. She looks thrilled. Niagara smiles softly. “You’re going to talk about her looks when you’re a copy-and-paste baby? LOVE to see a tiny little fighter.” Niagara Halls: “The good thing about doing drag that’s literally on the Canadian-American border is that I can leave the worst of both sides behind. Canadians, watch out: I will NOT be apologizing for my shade! And I can say THIS… who the fuck is Lady Gag?” “Your shade needs work, I think.” Lady Gag says. “It’s about as dark as midday in FLORIDA. I would know.” Ethan’s eyes give away his smile. He sits back on the table, relaxing for the first time, to listen to the girls snip back and forth. Ethan Angel-Eye: “I’m watching these girls, and I think, good. Let them fight. If this is the energy first day, they’re never gonna be able to focus on a challenge, and that’s perfect for me.” “I BET you would know Florida pretty well!” Niagara shoots back. “That contour job looks pretty Florida Man to me.” “I am a WOMAN and you will treat me with respect!” Lady Gag yells dramatically. Niagara looks confused, almost as if she is unsure if Gag is playing into the shade or not. Molly chuckles. “Girls, girls, oh my gosh! This is gonna be fun as fuck.” Lokii looks utterly horrified and speechless. There’s a sound of heels approaching, and the contestants turn to look at the entrance. “Please give me another crazy bitch,” Molly joke-pleads. “Please!” In a heavy, blood red reconstructed kimono covered in pearlescent white beads, Shiseido Red slowly struts into the werkroom. Her hair is bold, black and sculpted upwards into a towering beehive, and her silhouette is intricate, yet the restructuring of the kimono lets her show off her legs. “Paint the town red?” She cackles. “Baby, just paint these lips.” Shiseido blows a kiss. Lokii whoops. Ethan’s eyes glint with recognition. “An old bitch. Thank goodness.” Niagara vigorously applauds. Lady Gag still looks caught up in the fight from before. Molly looks concerned, before putting on a smile. “Oh, it’s YOU!” Molly yells. Molly Moppit: “I know Shiseido from the New York scene. I travel around the area, and she doesn’t.” Molly smiles. “Ahh, you’re here!” Shiseido ignores the others around her, looking straight at Molly. “Would you take my bags to that corner of the werkroom over there?” Shiseido asks, pointing to the farthest (and largest) dressing alcove. “I’d rather not.” Molly drops the playful facade for a moment, as the two look at each other. Shiseido Red: “Darlings. I’m Shiseido Red, and I’m no spring chicken. I am 45 years old and proud–I have a long legacy in New York City that will outlive any of these basic-bitch children. I was a princess of the 90s club scene and now, I’m their grand duchess. In my scene, we’re all about originality, ingenuity, innovation. So… nothing like what most of these kids are wearing.” Lokii scurries over to Shiseido. “This kimono is incredible.” Shiseido smiles curtly. “It’s certainly one step up from a costume, yes.” Lokii looks awkwardly. Molly tries to roll one of Shiseido’s suitcases from where it’s parked near the entrance and fails to move it despite pulling with all her strength. Nobody seems to notice. Molly Moppit: “Damn it, I was going to take half of her shit- subtly!” Niagara waves a broad hello. “HELLO NEW YORK! I’m SO glad you’re here, these girls are all WHORES so far.” Niagara goes in for a hug, but Shiseido moves away. “I’m sorry…do I know you?” Shiseido asks, clearly baffled. Lady Gag loudly guffaws. Niagara laughs once, awkwardly. “Oh, yes!” Niagara blushes, pulling away from her failed hug and gesturing wildly with her hands. “I’m Niagara Halls, mama. We worked together at–” “All you young girls blend together for me.” Shiseido shrugs. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.” Molly, laughing under her breath, opens Shiseido’s suitcase while she’s distracted and snatches a blonde curly wig. Molly Moppit: “I don’t get along with Shiseido. But I know this- she has good wigs… and I KNOW that old lady is a smart bitch. Whether or not she actually knows Niagara, she won’t admit it. Throw the girl off. I see you, mama.” “Aha.” Niagara looks put off. “No worries. It was just last year when–” “Hello, children.” Shiseido addresses the group like a troop leader. “I fear you look as bland as expected.” Lady Gag starts up again. “GIRL, this is not–” It’s Drag Time! Chronologica steps into the werkroom, and the gathered contestants gasp in shock–except Ethan, who looks over passively. Ethan Angel-Eye: “Interrupted at 6. So it’s a split premiere…which hasn’t happened since Season 3. Just, of course…of course it would be…” Molly hurriedly closes Shiseido’s suitcase and tucks the stolen wig into her top. Lady Gag, Niagara, and Lokii rush over towards Chronologica excitedly, while Shiseido and Ethan take their time, making eye contact as they do. Hello, racers! I’m thrilled to welcome you to the fantabulous Season 6 of Chronologica’s Drag Race! Here, you’ll be competing for the chance to win a spectacular crown and scepter from Moxie Maniac jewels, plus an extra-special grand prize of $100,000. Everyone cheers and applauds. One of you could become the next Drag Superstar…orrrr one of the other bitches who shows up next week could snatch the crown away from all of you. This week is your chance to prove your worth before any of those nasty skanks come and get in your way. Lady Gag: “Quite simply, yes. We ALL know Gaga is THE queen. I can guarantee I’ll be the one to get her her crown!” For your very first challenge, you’re putting on a premiere talent show. Show us what YOU can do that no one else can, and show us who you are. First impressions count! And you’d better hope it’s not a countDOWN…good luck! And don’t fuck it up! Shiseido Red: “Believe me, for some of these baby girls? The countdown’s already started.” Shiseido smirks. “I’m prepared for a talent show. I’ve been talented since I was born.” ~ Later, the monarchs strip out of their entrance looks and claim their dressing areas. Shiseido Red: “For this week’s maxi challenge, it’s time for us to showcase our abilities in a talent show. But first, it’s time to get to know each other.” Without a word, Ethan picks up Shiseido’s heavy suitcases and moves them to her preferred corner. “A gentleman.” Shiseido smiles, looking at Ethan’s bandana. “My faceless guardian.” Ethan chuckles. “No. You’re just not my mark today.” “Your mark? Alright. You’re an assassin, of sorts.” Shiseido ponders. “Mhm.” Shiseido Red: “Ethan is giving some sort of Bessie Big Sky-Jupiter Sterling story…but evil? It’s a very specific take, I’ll give him that…I’m at least…curious.” Ethan looks serious. “Assassin. You could say that.” Ethan retrieves his own bags and puts them next to Shiseido’s, just as Lokii enthusiastically hurries up towards the two-person dressing alcove. “Oh, sorry!” Lokii says, chuckling awkwardly. “I would love to uh, room with Shiseido, here, uh, the other girls are kinda mean and–” Ethan looks over, one eyebrow raised. Shiseido makes a face. “Baby. You’re not old enough to be here.” Lokii blanches. “No worries, then.” She scurry off. “...If she bantered back, I’d have had her.” Shiseido responds. “The baby queens can’t take it. No surprise.” Ethan grumbles. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Niagara, Molly, and Lady Gag each make for separate adjacent dressing stations. Lokii stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. Lokii: “The producers very clearly told us that we had to share 4 of the dressing rooms, two racers per room. But none of the girls are willing to share with each other… what’s … happening right now? Where am I supposed to go?” Niagara carefully changes out of her blue gown and puts on a comfortable yellow sweatsuit, then starts picking the clips out of her hair one by one. She watches Ethan and Shiseido across the room as Ethan takes off the bandana covering his face for the first time, then lets out the loudest gasp imaginable and throws her arms to the side, shocked. Blue butterfly clips fall to the ground everywhere. Lady Gag gives Niagara a look in between racks of hanging clothes. “Diva, what the FUCK are you doing?” Niagara whispers loudly. “Looooook!!!!” She aggressively points at Ethan, who is currently changing his shirt. Ethan very clearly and visibly has scratchy scruffy facial hair, and no makeup on the bottom half of his face. Niagara looks gagged. “That’s a MAN, Maury!” Niagara Halls: “I didn’t expect him to look like that, out of drag… kinda tracks, THOUGH!” Niagara cackles. Lady Gag yells across the room. “Mister Ethan!” Ethan looks over as he takes off his beaded vest and reveals his bare chest, clearly showcasing obvious top surgery scars. Lady Gag looks back to Niagara. “Queens recognize kings. Are you gagging yet?” “Not on your copy-and-paste eleganza.” Niagara shakes her head, then takes a step and slips on the fallen butterfly clips, awkwardly plopping on her butt. Niagara Halls: “We’ve had many trans divas compete in this competition- me included. But is this the first trans man here?” Niagara ponders. While Niagara has fallen, Molly sneaks in and grabs some more blue clips off the ground. I’m ba-ack! Chronologica waves from the entrance. Lokii returns the wave. Everyone else hurriedly finishes changing. Our producers let me know that we’re having some trouble getting into our dressing stations. We do actually need you to share space, here, now. Lokii: “I kinda was just waiting around- when they came in. I guess I kinda looked.. Awkward.” Lokii exhales. “This is a lot.” Lokii nods. Lady Gag and Niagara roll their eyes. Molly tuts excitedly. Molly Moppit: “I live for this drama, honestly. It’s so stuuupid I love it. I’m gonna make this shit eat up as much time as I can.” “Our space is set, Miss C.” Shiseido says assuredly. Great. So, which one of you three wants to share space with Lokii? “I KNOW you’re not equating Miss GAGA to a Disney gay–” Lady Gag smirks. Niagara shakes her head. “Well, I don’t think our visions are exactly aligned–” Molly winks, looking at the others. “I’m not cut out for sharing…” She says cheekily. Lokii stands awkwardly, a bit embarrassed. Okay, fine. Which two of you want to share with each other? Niagara scoffs. “The impersonator? That raggedy-ass mop bitch? I am not–” Girls. Chronologica looks annoyed. Okay. Let’s be serious. “No, of course, I’d love to work with Lokii in our space.” Molly smiles. Molly Moppit: “I am a playful artist, but I do take this seriously- and I look around, and Lokii looks like a deer in headlights. It’s a competition. But I’ll make her feel welcome. I mean, she’s better then the Gaga impersonator and fucking Niagara Halls.” She takes a sip of her drink. … Molly Moppit: “Can we circle back to Lady Gag as a name? Like be inspired and be an orignator but LADY GAG?! I DON’T GET IT!” She bursts, interrupting herself from finishing her drink. Shiseido and Ethan, who have returned to their corner, give each other a look. Ethan Angel-Eye: “It’s just like the last few seasons. All the kids are incompetent. No surprise.” I’ll leave you to it. Now. I’ll see you on the main stage. Let’s keep it professional, alright? Chronologica departs, and Molly drags her singular small suitcase into Niagara’s dressing station. She drops the bag heavily, and all of the butterfly clips Molly has stolen spill out of it onto the floor. “Where’s my clips?!” Niagara yells. Lokii and Molly look at each other, and Molly giggles. ~ Chronologica goes to visit the racers. Hello, Mr. Angel-Eye. “Chronologica.” Ethan says gruffly. Now, you’re drag family, right?! The other’s ears pick up, as Ethan nods. “Yeah, I used to be related to Bessie Big Sky. But we’re not talking about that, we’re talking about my talent show.” Ethan says, clearly displeased. Shiseido Red: “Oh… Inteeeeerersting.” Shiseido purses her lips. “This makes a lot of sense.” Totally. Well, tell me then, what ARE you doing for the talent show? “I’m from Montana. We’re not basic-ass pageant queens, who haven’t fought for anything a day in their life-“ Niagara’s head turns over to Ethan’s conversation as she has caught interest, clearly offended. Niagara Halls: “Wow.” Niagara is looking in a complete state of shock in her confessional room. “… Alright.” Niagara nods. “…because life’s hard,” Ethan continues. “I was a rez kid, I was in the foster care system, I been through some shit. And I’ve picked up a few skills along the way. So I will be doing a Projectile Weaponry Showcase.” Interesting. What does that entail? “Pistols, throwing knives, bow and arrow, shotgun.” Ethan nods. “I’m a good shot, no matter what I’m shooting.” Fuck yeah. Ethan smiles for a moment, before nodding. I was raised at my local gun club, over in La Perouse, Sydney. I know a good few weapons. How are you going to make it dragged up? “I do it my way. Ethan Angel-Eye is the evil Indian from cowboys and Indians. He’s a vigilante bandit, and these are a bandit’s weapons. I’ve got a story. I know what I do in my performance space- to me, the art stands for itself. I don’t need bells and whistles, because this has never been done before.” If you keep us excited, well that’s all that matters. Ethan nods. “I will.” … Niagara Halls. “Chronologica.” Niagara smiles. Now, you’re a pageant Queen. How is that going to impact you in this competition? “Well, MAMA!” Niagara says excitedly, talking with her hands. “For me, it’s about serving. I’m pretty, I’m gorgeous and I am not scared to CUT a bitch when I want to.” Niagara draws a line across her throat with one hand. Chronologica chuckles. Tell me, what are you doing for the talent show? “Yodeling.” Niagara smiles brightly. …Yodelling? Are you a singer? “NOT at ALL.” Niagara shakes her head. “Like, I’d probably say I am a bad singer.” Then…why are you yodeling? “For me, it’s about standing out. I wanted to deliver something no one has really done, make it camp, and then stun on the runway.” Niagara tongue pops. But do you feel like you are able to do this well? If you’re not a singer- “I feel like it’s an opportunity to showcase what I can do, and make it fun.” Niagara smiles. Okay. Well, good luck… …. Molly Moppit! “Shhh.” Molly whispers, pointing Chronologica to outside. I- “Let’s chat outside; I don’t need them hearing.” Molly whispers, as the two walk to the smoking area outside. The others look confused as the two disappear. “Cigarette?” Molly hands one to Chronologica. Is that from my packet- Okay, tell me, Molly, what’s your talent show? “For me, I do really take my drag seriously.” Molly smiles. “But I don’t need them all to know that, initially.” I get it. So, what are you doing for the talent show? Molly whips out a packet of notes. Chronologica grins. “I’ll be presenting onto the main stage, MOPPING DUTY. It’s a live freestyle Diss Track of the Cast of Season 6.” Molly smirks. “And I’ve got the notes for it.” Why is it called… Mopping Duty? “Because I am about to wash these bitches out and mop the crown, duh.” Molly chuckles. Chronologica bursts into laughter. I think that’s a fantastic idea. “I don’t want them to know what I’m doing, because part of the work here is centered around making them react. I’m great off the cuff- and planned, secretly. So, for me it’s really important to get to embrace all of that.” I am really excited to see how you do it, Molly. Molly grins. “I am too.” Molly Moppit: “I am going to blow these bitches out of the water, they just don’t know it yet.” Molly winks. ~ The next day, the racers twirl into the werkroom and get ready for the talent show. Lady Gag: “It’s time for the talent show, and I’m ready. Are these girls ready? Well, they should be, because… I’m coming for them.” “So, what are you bitches doing for the talent show?” Lady Gag asks, plaiting her hair. “I mean, I know some…” Niagara starts to yodel. Ethan rolls his eyes. Ethan Angel-Eye: “Bitches. The way these children talk.” “I’m not a bitch, first of all.” Shiseido says. “So let us start there, lookalike.” “Okay, I was just talking like us girls do.” Lady Gag scoffs. “Do you know actual Drag Queens?” Shiseido asks. Lady Gag rolls her eyes. Lokii whispers under her breath. “So much shade…” “I’m doing a Stand-Up show.” Lady Gag flicks back her hair. “I’ve been told I’m a funny bitch, so-” Everyone looks surprised. Molly Moppit: “She’s a comedian?” Molly bursts into laughter. “Oh, let’s be honest, her biggest joke is her name!” “Have you done comedy?” Lokii asks. “Actually, yes.” Lady Gag smiles. “In my room, to my family…” “Love.” Niagara clicks her fingers. “Werk, bitch, creativity…” Shiseido Red: “I am starting to notice something. These girls claim to be experienced, knowledgeable- but then, you speak to them, and suddenly they’re like ‘I’ve done this… at home.’ Lacking experience. It SHOWS.” “I am a designer and club kid.” Shiseido smiles to herself. “I’d love to hear about what that was like.” Lokii interrupts. “Well, if you survive the first week, you might hear it.” Shiseido says swiftly. Lokii looks to the left, then down. “I’m doing a megamix to 90s club anthems, and designing a look all the while.” Shiseido nods. Shiseido Red: “This will allow me to put my best foot forward instead of dancing the stage up and down, something I… can’t do as well anymore.” “That sounds… fine.” Niagara shrugs. Niagara Halls: “Like, BORING…and honestly, I don’t see it for her?!” Niagara laughs. “OH, the shade of ME!” Niagara giggles to herself. “What are you two doing, Molly and Lokii?” Ethan says, surprising the two. “I’m not talking about it.” Molly winks. “You can wait and see.” Ethan purses his lips. “I do wonder if it’s going to be anything of note.” Shiseido says. Shiseido Red: “Molly has a…not-so-great reputation, in New York. I’ll be honest, she’s never been notable to me, though. Beyond the theft jokes.” “Well, you gotta wait and see.” Molly winks. Molly Moppit: “Keep it fun… until you make the move.” Molly smirks. “I am a bit of a nerd.” Lokii says. “What a surprise.” Lady Gag jokes. “...Finish your thought.” Ethan looks at Lokii. “I’ll be repeating the plot of star wars, with puppets.” Lokii grins. Everyone once again looks around awkwardly. “Well, I’m excited for MY own talent show, because it sounds like I’m winning.” Lady Gag says. “Don’t count your chickens yet, Miss Copypasta.” Ethan responds. Lady Gag rolls her eyes for what appears to be the 10th time. Lokii: “I… don’t think anyone gets me here.” “The cosplay newbie… and the puppets.” Shiseido whispers, shaking her head to Ethan. “The impersonator who does stand-up in her bedroom. The tone-deaf girl singing, and the thief who probably doesn’t even have talents of her own. Great.” Lokii: “But I have crafted an entire concept. I’ve sewn and made these puppets, made a comedic story and saga- and if there’s one thing I do believe in, it’s the lore. It’s my knowledge in the cosplay, nerd space…” Lokii giggles, playing with her puppets. Lokii: “Lokii, you can do this…” Lokii gulps. “I think.” “Who’s.” Niagara claps. “Gonna.” Niagara claps. “GO HOME FIRST?!” “You, bitch!” Lady Gag snaps her fingers. “RUDE, RUDE!!!!!” Niagara yells. “Not me.” Molly whispers into the camera and winks. ~ Stats Voting Spreadsheet |
2024.05.18 23:50 MenaceToEarth Is buying a split level townhouse with 6 levels a bad idea?
i came across this townhouse and i love everything about it! my parents however think the split level layout completely kills the appeal of it. they will be living with me for a few years. the decision is ultimately mine to make but they keep trying to convince me it’s awful and i will regret buying this home if i do. what am i missing here?
this is how the levels are separated level 1 (basement): large unfinished storage area level 2 (entry floor): small hallway leading to garage, hallway closet, and a big laundry room with a sink level 3: kitchen + dining area. also has a half bathroom ideal for guests. the access to the back patio is right off the dining area level 4: living room. has a small balcony level 5: open space with vaulted ceilings perfect for an office or kids play area. master bedroom with private bathroom and small walk in closet is also here level 6: 2 additional bedrooms and a shared bathroom
personally i think the split levels make the house feel much bigger than it is. my parents main gripe is about the separated kitchen and the inconvenience of having to repeatedly go up and down the steps when you have guests over and you’re serving coffee/drinks. they also think the laundry room being 4 half flights of stairs from the bedrooms is a huge hassle. but nearly every townhouse we’ve seen has 2 full floors between the laundry and bedrooms.
they also do not like how there is a single window in the master bedroom. it’s a floor to ceiling window but it’s not wide. the room had decent natural lighting.
i love everything else about this home. it has a backyard, it’s an end unit, it’s priced 50k lower than the others we’ve considered, and the area is safe. it hits all of my requirements. plus the hoa is on the lower end and it includes access to private community center with indoor pool, library, party room, sauna, pool tables.
what are your thoughts?
submitted by MenaceToEarth to FirstTimeHomeBuyer [link] [comments]
this is how the levels are separated level 1 (basement): large unfinished storage area level 2 (entry floor): small hallway leading to garage, hallway closet, and a big laundry room with a sink level 3: kitchen + dining area. also has a half bathroom ideal for guests. the access to the back patio is right off the dining area level 4: living room. has a small balcony level 5: open space with vaulted ceilings perfect for an office or kids play area. master bedroom with private bathroom and small walk in closet is also here level 6: 2 additional bedrooms and a shared bathroom
personally i think the split levels make the house feel much bigger than it is. my parents main gripe is about the separated kitchen and the inconvenience of having to repeatedly go up and down the steps when you have guests over and you’re serving coffee/drinks. they also think the laundry room being 4 half flights of stairs from the bedrooms is a huge hassle. but nearly every townhouse we’ve seen has 2 full floors between the laundry and bedrooms.
they also do not like how there is a single window in the master bedroom. it’s a floor to ceiling window but it’s not wide. the room had decent natural lighting.
i love everything else about this home. it has a backyard, it’s an end unit, it’s priced 50k lower than the others we’ve considered, and the area is safe. it hits all of my requirements. plus the hoa is on the lower end and it includes access to private community center with indoor pool, library, party room, sauna, pool tables.
what are your thoughts?
2024.05.18 23:50 CDown01 Eagles Peak Pt.3
Previous Part
I woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs. Over by the side of my bed was a tray with a masterfully prepared omelet and sausage to match. That’s not what caught my eye though. What did that was the little note stuck to the side of they tray.
“Sorry for terrorizing you- R”
Was scrawled in barley legible hand writing, Rocco’s I imagined.
“So it can cook but not write?”
I muttered to myself as I got out of bed.
A fresh change of clothes was laid out for me and I decided just not to question it. The clothes fit perfectly and I tried not to let my mind wander as to why that was while I ate breakfast. Rocco’s omelet was outstanding, for a trash panda he made a great cook but I have no idea where he would’ve picked that up. After I finished I brought my dishes downstairs and ran into Stein in the kitchen.
“The clothes fit don’t they? My eyes aren’t what they used to be, I should’ve just sent Rocco up to ask your size.”
“No no, they fit fine, and please don’t send Rocco to do anything without telling me. I think that might just give me a heart attack on the spot. I’m still really not used to all… this going on”
I said gesturing to the raccoon who had wandered into the kitchen and was now flipping me the bird with both his paws.
Stein nodded to me with what I hoped was understanding. As much as Rocco seemed harmless (Maybe… hopefully?) I really didn’t want the furry little demon arriving anywhere near me unexpectedly. We already saw how that went in the basement yesterday. I finished washing my dishes in the sink as Stein ate his breakfast. He seemed so calm and normal, compared to the things I’d seen in this house so far. If you took one look at Bianca you say she looked too good to be true. Rocco is… well, he’s a talking raccoon, that’s immediately strange. But when it came to Frank and Stein you couldn’t tell there was anything off about them. Honestly I still had trouble seeing where they fit into this whole thing.
I was lost in this train of thought as I went through the motions of taking my groceries out of the refrigerator where someone had put them. I didn’t even realize Bianca was standing behind me till she tapped my shoulder. Jumping out of my skin I screeched out,
“Jesus Rocco what the hell!”
Bianca went from serious to laughing hysterically in no time flat.
“He really has you spooked after last night doesn’t he?”
She barely got out between bouts of laughter.
“I’m sorry really, oh and I’ve got this for you.”
Chuckled Bianca, handing me a wad of cash with a face that didn’t look remotely sorry for laughing at me.
“Just for that I’ll take it! But I’ve got to ask, how do you have this much cash just lying around, isn’t that a little risky?”
“You’d have to ask my unc… Frank or Stein.”
Bianca answered, stumbling on the apparently familiar lie. As she said this Stein stood up from the table and answered my question.
“Researching the supernatural isn’t always safe but Germany pays its scientists well, even if we don’t work for them anymore.”
“Germany? When did you work with the German government?”
I asked, a sinking suspicion settling into the pit of my stomach.
“1941, The Führer requested me specifically and I met Frank there. Oh don’t look at me like that! I didn’t support his cause, he simply wanted to look into forces outside his control and that was my specialty. It was business nothing more.”
Stein responded, pointing his finger at me and sounding a little annoyed.
“But that would make you… there’s no way you’re that old. Uh I don’t mean!”
“Think nothing of it, if anything, it means our serum worked. Distilled it from the DNA of a few pureblooded vampires and designed it to slow human aging to a crawl.”
Bianca cut him off,
“Stein, I think I can see steam coming out his ears. Can we maybe give the supernatural stuff a rest? I know you’ve been around it all your life but I think its a bit much for him.”
“Yes, I suppose your right Bianca. I’ll leave you two be then.”
Stein surrendered, as he turned and walked out of the room. Like he hadn’t just dropped yet another bomb on me.
I held myself together much better this time. After talking raccoons and succubi, learning vampires apparently existed in such an offhanded manner just didn’t surprise me as much. At this point I was just about ready to accept any supernatural entity I’d ever heard of existed in some capacity. In fact that might be the best policy moving forward.
“Hey you’re not going to pass out on us again right?”
Bianca asked turning back to me, genuine concern in her voice.
“No, I’ll be fine. The more I hear about this kind of thing the better I am at just accepting it. It’s a lot easier hearing it from one of you guys than having it drop out of the sky at me.”
I joked, walking with Bianca to the door. I noticed my poor attempt at a joke was the first time I said anything about Imalone without feeling like someone would call me crazy. I couldn’t dwell on that for too long right now though, I had to drop off the groceries that had taken me a full day to get. In hindsight though, I’ve had worst trips to the grocery store.
The next few days passed without any real issues, I got things set up in the house and ordered some furniture with the money I got from Bianca. On the second day I figured I should go out and explore the town a bit. I was getting bored being cooped up doing normal things and apparently I wanted to throw a wrench in all that.
“Maybe a bar” I thought to myself as I walked out the door just as the sun had started to think about setting, “Those are always a good place to meet people”.
This is where I tell you I may be just a little awkward. Even back home I didn’t really get out and meet new people much but I figured now is as good a time as any to start. I threw together a quick outfit with the clothes I brought with me from home. Hopefully I looked at least a little bit presentable in khakis and a red dress shirt. I walked out my door and immediately saw Bianca’s house peering out over the town. I considered dropping by to see if Bianca wanted to join me. I had told her about the reasons I ended up in Eagles Peak but I still knew precious little about her. I assumed her past wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. I wanted to know what exactly drew someone like her to a sleepy little town like this. Maybe seeing if she wanted to join me would be a good opportunity to learn something about her? It’s entirely possible I just wanted to spend more time around her because she was drop dead gorgeous. Maybe it was because she was the first person I bumped into in town? I couldn’t put my finger on it and if we’re being honest I didn’t want to admit the real reason to myself.
That would have to wait for another day though. I had spent so much time thinking about it that by the time I snapped back to reality I was by the greyhound bus stop, well past her house. There was another bus stopped there and people were getting off of it. None of them looked like what I would call a local but its not like I’d really know what a “local” looked like here anyways. Still, this town couldn’t get this many visitors right? It was weird but probably had a completely reasonable explanation.
“The Eagle’s Roost” read the sign above the bar’s entrance, it was actually a pretty high class looking establishment. The fresh red paint gleamed against the faded whites and grays of the other buildings on the street. Inside, a well polished dark wood floor greeted me. The room was completed by a roaring stone fireplace and a well used set of stools by the counter.
“Hey there! Anyone home?!”
I called out into the empty bar.
“Give me a minute!”
Replied a deep gruff voice form the back room. Eventually a man emerged from the room, well I say man but what I mean was a mountain in human form. This guy had to be about 7 feet tall and built from solid granite. Seriously, the muscles on this guy would’ve put The Rock to shame.
“Little early to start drinkin’ isn’t it?”
The mountain grunted judgmentally.
“Well I’m new here I just wanted to see the town. I could come back later if you want.”
“New, why didn’t you say so! New here, I haven’t seen anyone new here in years! come sit down if you’ve got questions about this place I can probably answer them!”
The now elated giant boomed at me. He turned hospitable in an instant, offering me a drink on the house for his poor manners before. His name was Tucker and he’d come to the town years ago as a foreman for it’s mine. The mine dried up and the workers moved on but something about this town spoke to him and he decided to stay. He opened up this bar and the rest is history. Something about the way he talked about the mine did’t sit right with me though. He kept mentioning how it dried up like he was trying to convince me that was what happened. Plus a mine out here didn’t exactly make much sense to me.
“So you run this place alone then?”
I asked, more to be polite than out of genuine curiosity. We had started to run out of things to talk about after conversation about the mine dried up much like it apparently had.
“Never needed any help besides my wife’s, but most days I just run the place alone, yes. No sense in hiring help here, not many people looking for work outside of the ones working at that grocery store down the street. Anyways I should get back to work, its getting to be about time we actually open to the public.”
I turned my head to look at the sign I now realized was stuck to the door. “Eagle’s Roost Hours: 6PM-1AM every night”. I realized with embarrassment I had walked through the door an hour before opening. Tuck had been nothing but friendly though, and I almost felt bad for assuming the locals like him would want to shoo me away. After all, everyone I’d met so far had been nothing but nice, not including Rocco that is.
As I turned my attention back to my drink I thought about the mine again. I hadn’t seen any records of the mine Tuck mentioned in my internet searches of the town before I came here. Honestly it had been incredibly difficult to dig up anything on the town. I wasn’t necessarily the most thorough in my search, but mines tend to be a staple of the towns they’re located in. This mine in particular seems to be what the town was built on. I’m not sure what had me so worked up on this mine issue but I was sure it was important. I sat there at the bar, mulling it over and sipping on my drink when a hand slapped down on my shoulder.
The man it was attached to said something but I couldn’t catch it even if I wanted to. I was far to laser focused on the mark seared black into the mans hand, the exact same eagle that was burned into my back. I pushed him off and bolted for the door, all I heard behind me was the mans confused “What?” And Tuck shouting at him.
“Now what in the Blazes did you do to the poor kid Robert!”
I shot off into the street from the bar, no one was chasing me but the fact that the symbol was here had set me off like a deer running from a gunshot.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Called a now familiar, heavily accented voice from the alleyway.
“Rocco, what are you doing out here?”
I questioned, bewildered at finding him out in the open. I’d never admit it but seeing a familiar face, even Rocco’s, calmed me down a little
“I’m a raccoon in an alleyway, what do you think I’m doing, fishing? No, I’m rootin' around in the trash, Frank needs some lithium foil and he can’t be bothered to run out and buy some batteries himself, stingy bastard.”
He retorted, looking for all intents and purposes like a normal raccoon at the moment.
“Even if I were to guess I wouldn’t have even come close to that.”
“I live to surprise”
Rocco sneered, taking a bow dripping with sarcasm.
“Anyways Frank is back at the house right? There’s something I’ve got to tell him.”
I asked, turning and running as soon as I got a response in the affirmative.
“Yeah he is, what exactly is so importa…. And he’s gone”
I made it to their strange high house in record time and burst through the door like I owned the place. For some reason Bianca seemed completely unfazed as I crashed into the entryway without so much as a knock.
“You know, you don’t live here right?”
“Oh yeah, good to see you too Bianca. Anyways, were is Frank, or Stein for that matter I’ve got something to ask.”
“They’re in the basement.”
Bianca said pointing to the door without looking up from the book she was reading.
Her dismissive attitude didn’t even register to me as I made my way down the basement steps. I got to the bottom and an acrid scent assaulted my nostrils.
“Do I even want to know what that is?”
I called into the basement, announcing my presence. Frank emerged from a room to my side decked out in a full lab coat and goggles along with a hairnet to protect what little of his still remained.
“What do you need?”
“You guys seem to know a lot about the supernatural right? Well, does this symbol mean anything to you?”
I said pulling off my shirt and turning my back to show him the mark that woman had left me with. His reaction could best be described by the sound of shattering glass as he dropped the beaker he was holding as he saw the symbol.
“Where did you get that?!”
He yelled more than asked.
“Back in Imalone.”
“Imalone? What’s that supposed to mean?”
It dawned on me that I hadn’t explained it to him like I had Bianca, so I filled him in. I told him the whole truth this time, where the mark came from, what really drove me to Eagles Peak, all of it. Frank listened diligently looking more concerned by the minute, at some point Stein joined him. A similarly shocked look was plastered across his face. I swear he was turning white when he answered my question.
“It’s the mark of the Thunderbird, and from what you told us, you met… her in person.”
“So why do you look so worried about it?”
I asked, feeling a little worried.
“Well she’s marked you personally, most people that have that mark would’ve gotten it to show devotion or allegiance and it certainly wouldn’t have come directly from the Thunderbird.”
The way Stein talked about this “Thunderbird” made me think I may be in even deeper shit than I realized.
“So do you two actually know anything about the Thunderbird?”
I asked, hoping these two would know something considering their long study of the supernatural.
“Until recently I only knew of the native legends surrounding the creature. I heard of people marking themselves with that symbol so I assumed there must be some truth to the legends. But neither me nor Frank has ever seen the Thunderbird, much less seen it..er, her take a human form.”
Stein answered, sounding almost disappointed in himself. I got the sense that not knowing something like this really ate at him. Which was just further proven by what he said next, a grin suddenly appearing on his face.
“Frank, I think we have our next big research project on our hands then.”
“I’ll start pulling any records I can find of accounts like Keith’s here.”
Frank said, hurrying over to a computer in the basement corner that looked ancient.
“Yes and compare those to the various legends surrounding the Thunderbird.”
Stein responded, rifling through a row of cabinets against the far wall.
Those two seemed to be whipped into a frenzy by something they knew next to nothing about being dropped in their laps.
“Guys… Guys! Can we hold off on going full mad scientist mode for just a second I’ve got one more thing to ask!”
I yelled trying to get their attention. when they turned to me I could see the spark in both their eyes as they hastily responded in unison.
“Yes, what!”
“Have either of you heard about a mine in this town? Tuck at “Eagle’s Roost” mentioned it but I don’t remember seeing anything about it when I looked into this town.”
“Ah the mine, it’s out in the forest north of town somewhere. There was a collapse or something a few years after it opened and the town covered it up. It would’ve been very embarrassing for them to admit the screw up so they just… didn’t, that’s all there is too it.”
Frank answered, seemingly bothered by the mundaneness of that question.
“So the mine is still out there then?”
“Of course! What did you think it just walked away? No, leave us be we’ve got work to do.”
Stein snapped.
As I left the two to their business and made my way out of the house I ran into Rocco, several grimy batteries grasped in his paws.
“They uh… I don’t think they’ll need those batteries anymore bud.”
“God damnit! That’s what I get for trying to be helpful.”
Rocco yelled, as he threw the batteries against the wall. I had to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here I was walking past a talking raccoon on his way down to two scientists looking into a Thunderbird. That’s a real thing that’s currently happening to me. Just a few days ago simply seeing Rocco knocked me out almost immediately and now he was just a minor inconvenience. Could it be that I was actually adjusting to all the crazy things that had been happening around me? I sure thought so.
Upstairs, Bianca was still nose deep in her book at the kitchen table.
“Hey can I ask you something?”
“Yeah sure, what is it?”
“Ever been into the woods around town? There’s something I want to check out there.”
“I don’t usually leave the house all that much if I’m honest.”
Bianca answered, a touch of sadness in her voice.
“Do you want too? Leave the house I mean.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Well, I’m going to be headed out there tomorrow looking for the old mine.”
“And why are you looking for that?”
She questioned suspiciously.
“I have a feeling it has something to do with the mark that woman… and I forgot I didn’t tell you about that.”
Bianca looked up at me as she said with a smirk.
“I knew there was more to that story from the other night. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I’ll spare you the details but needless to say I told the story again. I really need to start bringing everyone together when I do these things, it would save me time.
“So that’s why you came here, and you think this mine has something to do with it?”
Bianca exclaimed excitedly. I could almost see the lightbulb going off over her head.
“Yeah that’s pretty much it, do you want to come with? I mean you don’t have to go but I”
She cut me off,
“You know what maybe I should go. Two sets of eyes gives us better odds right? And you have a bad history with forgotten places I seem to recall.”
Bianca said with a coy smile.
“That’s what we’ll do then, I’ll get some things ready and stop by tomorrow, we’ll leave from there.”
And before she had a chance to rethink her answer I left feeling pleased with myself.
My next stop was the hardware store on the other side of town. Of course I still had my travel bag from the good old Imalone trip but I figured I’d pick up some more tools that could come in handy.. I ended up with two heavy duty flashlights, some work gloves of various sizes cause I had no idea what size would fit Bianca, and a set of bolt cutters. It was only when I got up to the counter and the clerk gave me the stink eye that I noticed my mistake.
“You planning to break into something kid?”
Questioned the older guy cashing me out. I responded before my brain caught up with my mouth.
“I was planning on it but you guys didn’t sell balaclavas. So I guess I’ll have to wait.”
The man eyed me for a second then burst out laughing as he handed me my things. Which was good because I knew a few places back in Wisconsin where pulling that would’ve got me pulled into a backroom for questioning. Not a lot of people knew how to take a joke back home. Weirdly enough it was the first time I thought of home since coming here. Obviously I had family back there but we weren’t exactly close like I said before. I just found myself missing the familiarity of the area I had lived in for the past 24 years of my life. I think that’s why I came to the decision to call my mother when I got home later that night.
The whole walk home I had this strange feeling of being watched. No-one was there, I’m sure because I checked… several times. But even as I locked the door to my house and starting sorting out a bag of supplies for Bianca, the feeling didn’t go away. As I pulled out my phone to call my mother the feeling finally faded into the background as I got her familiar answering machine.
“Hi, you’ve reached Carla, leave your name and number after the tone.”
Straight and to the point as quickly as possible, that was the best way to describe mom and it showed even in her answering machine.
“Hi mom I bet you’re wondering where I ended up. Well I’m in New York now, in a sleepy little town. Its nice really, I already met some new people they’re… well they’re a bit strange but I think I might fit in with them. I’m still looking for a job but I had a really well paying temp thing the other day so I’ll be fine for a little while. Anyways, hope you’re doing well, love you.”
I teared up a bit as I ended the call, I hadn’t called my mother in at least a year. She never checked up on me and I never checked in with her. We’d see each other at family gatherings and talk but outside of that I didn’t really contact her much anymore. It was sort of a mutual agreement that we both had, we assumed the other was alright. But being this far from Wisconsin, this far from home, had finally caught up with me. I wanted to at least hear her voice, even if it was just a recording.
As I finished up packing for tomorrow I was quite proud of myself. I’d thought of just about everything, I dug some old hiking boots out for myself and some rope from my old travel bag. Several different sets of flint and steel and about three days worth of dehydrated food adorned the top pocket of both bags. I’d even found an old water purification kit that ended up in one of the duffle bags I brought from my apartment. In short, I was the most over prepared for an excursion like this I’d ever been. It did help push back the eyes I felt peering at me from somewhere over my shoulder, the feeling of being watched still not leaving me. Once I laid down and tried to fall asleep the feeling only intensified. Sounds of rolling thunder in the distance reminding me of my time in Imalone and the fury of the storm the Thunderbird brought. I felt strangely confident as well though, tomorrow Bianca and I may finally start to uncover some answers as to why I felt called to this town, and maybe even what this mark could mean for me.
submitted by CDown01 to AllureStories [link] [comments]
I woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs. Over by the side of my bed was a tray with a masterfully prepared omelet and sausage to match. That’s not what caught my eye though. What did that was the little note stuck to the side of they tray.
“Sorry for terrorizing you- R”
Was scrawled in barley legible hand writing, Rocco’s I imagined.
“So it can cook but not write?”
I muttered to myself as I got out of bed.
A fresh change of clothes was laid out for me and I decided just not to question it. The clothes fit perfectly and I tried not to let my mind wander as to why that was while I ate breakfast. Rocco’s omelet was outstanding, for a trash panda he made a great cook but I have no idea where he would’ve picked that up. After I finished I brought my dishes downstairs and ran into Stein in the kitchen.
“The clothes fit don’t they? My eyes aren’t what they used to be, I should’ve just sent Rocco up to ask your size.”
“No no, they fit fine, and please don’t send Rocco to do anything without telling me. I think that might just give me a heart attack on the spot. I’m still really not used to all… this going on”
I said gesturing to the raccoon who had wandered into the kitchen and was now flipping me the bird with both his paws.
Stein nodded to me with what I hoped was understanding. As much as Rocco seemed harmless (Maybe… hopefully?) I really didn’t want the furry little demon arriving anywhere near me unexpectedly. We already saw how that went in the basement yesterday. I finished washing my dishes in the sink as Stein ate his breakfast. He seemed so calm and normal, compared to the things I’d seen in this house so far. If you took one look at Bianca you say she looked too good to be true. Rocco is… well, he’s a talking raccoon, that’s immediately strange. But when it came to Frank and Stein you couldn’t tell there was anything off about them. Honestly I still had trouble seeing where they fit into this whole thing.
I was lost in this train of thought as I went through the motions of taking my groceries out of the refrigerator where someone had put them. I didn’t even realize Bianca was standing behind me till she tapped my shoulder. Jumping out of my skin I screeched out,
“Jesus Rocco what the hell!”
Bianca went from serious to laughing hysterically in no time flat.
“He really has you spooked after last night doesn’t he?”
She barely got out between bouts of laughter.
“I’m sorry really, oh and I’ve got this for you.”
Chuckled Bianca, handing me a wad of cash with a face that didn’t look remotely sorry for laughing at me.
“Just for that I’ll take it! But I’ve got to ask, how do you have this much cash just lying around, isn’t that a little risky?”
“You’d have to ask my unc… Frank or Stein.”
Bianca answered, stumbling on the apparently familiar lie. As she said this Stein stood up from the table and answered my question.
“Researching the supernatural isn’t always safe but Germany pays its scientists well, even if we don’t work for them anymore.”
“Germany? When did you work with the German government?”
I asked, a sinking suspicion settling into the pit of my stomach.
“1941, The Führer requested me specifically and I met Frank there. Oh don’t look at me like that! I didn’t support his cause, he simply wanted to look into forces outside his control and that was my specialty. It was business nothing more.”
Stein responded, pointing his finger at me and sounding a little annoyed.
“But that would make you… there’s no way you’re that old. Uh I don’t mean!”
“Think nothing of it, if anything, it means our serum worked. Distilled it from the DNA of a few pureblooded vampires and designed it to slow human aging to a crawl.”
Bianca cut him off,
“Stein, I think I can see steam coming out his ears. Can we maybe give the supernatural stuff a rest? I know you’ve been around it all your life but I think its a bit much for him.”
“Yes, I suppose your right Bianca. I’ll leave you two be then.”
Stein surrendered, as he turned and walked out of the room. Like he hadn’t just dropped yet another bomb on me.
I held myself together much better this time. After talking raccoons and succubi, learning vampires apparently existed in such an offhanded manner just didn’t surprise me as much. At this point I was just about ready to accept any supernatural entity I’d ever heard of existed in some capacity. In fact that might be the best policy moving forward.
“Hey you’re not going to pass out on us again right?”
Bianca asked turning back to me, genuine concern in her voice.
“No, I’ll be fine. The more I hear about this kind of thing the better I am at just accepting it. It’s a lot easier hearing it from one of you guys than having it drop out of the sky at me.”
I joked, walking with Bianca to the door. I noticed my poor attempt at a joke was the first time I said anything about Imalone without feeling like someone would call me crazy. I couldn’t dwell on that for too long right now though, I had to drop off the groceries that had taken me a full day to get. In hindsight though, I’ve had worst trips to the grocery store.
The next few days passed without any real issues, I got things set up in the house and ordered some furniture with the money I got from Bianca. On the second day I figured I should go out and explore the town a bit. I was getting bored being cooped up doing normal things and apparently I wanted to throw a wrench in all that.
“Maybe a bar” I thought to myself as I walked out the door just as the sun had started to think about setting, “Those are always a good place to meet people”.
This is where I tell you I may be just a little awkward. Even back home I didn’t really get out and meet new people much but I figured now is as good a time as any to start. I threw together a quick outfit with the clothes I brought with me from home. Hopefully I looked at least a little bit presentable in khakis and a red dress shirt. I walked out my door and immediately saw Bianca’s house peering out over the town. I considered dropping by to see if Bianca wanted to join me. I had told her about the reasons I ended up in Eagles Peak but I still knew precious little about her. I assumed her past wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. I wanted to know what exactly drew someone like her to a sleepy little town like this. Maybe seeing if she wanted to join me would be a good opportunity to learn something about her? It’s entirely possible I just wanted to spend more time around her because she was drop dead gorgeous. Maybe it was because she was the first person I bumped into in town? I couldn’t put my finger on it and if we’re being honest I didn’t want to admit the real reason to myself.
That would have to wait for another day though. I had spent so much time thinking about it that by the time I snapped back to reality I was by the greyhound bus stop, well past her house. There was another bus stopped there and people were getting off of it. None of them looked like what I would call a local but its not like I’d really know what a “local” looked like here anyways. Still, this town couldn’t get this many visitors right? It was weird but probably had a completely reasonable explanation.
“The Eagle’s Roost” read the sign above the bar’s entrance, it was actually a pretty high class looking establishment. The fresh red paint gleamed against the faded whites and grays of the other buildings on the street. Inside, a well polished dark wood floor greeted me. The room was completed by a roaring stone fireplace and a well used set of stools by the counter.
“Hey there! Anyone home?!”
I called out into the empty bar.
“Give me a minute!”
Replied a deep gruff voice form the back room. Eventually a man emerged from the room, well I say man but what I mean was a mountain in human form. This guy had to be about 7 feet tall and built from solid granite. Seriously, the muscles on this guy would’ve put The Rock to shame.
“Little early to start drinkin’ isn’t it?”
The mountain grunted judgmentally.
“Well I’m new here I just wanted to see the town. I could come back later if you want.”
“New, why didn’t you say so! New here, I haven’t seen anyone new here in years! come sit down if you’ve got questions about this place I can probably answer them!”
The now elated giant boomed at me. He turned hospitable in an instant, offering me a drink on the house for his poor manners before. His name was Tucker and he’d come to the town years ago as a foreman for it’s mine. The mine dried up and the workers moved on but something about this town spoke to him and he decided to stay. He opened up this bar and the rest is history. Something about the way he talked about the mine did’t sit right with me though. He kept mentioning how it dried up like he was trying to convince me that was what happened. Plus a mine out here didn’t exactly make much sense to me.
“So you run this place alone then?”
I asked, more to be polite than out of genuine curiosity. We had started to run out of things to talk about after conversation about the mine dried up much like it apparently had.
“Never needed any help besides my wife’s, but most days I just run the place alone, yes. No sense in hiring help here, not many people looking for work outside of the ones working at that grocery store down the street. Anyways I should get back to work, its getting to be about time we actually open to the public.”
I turned my head to look at the sign I now realized was stuck to the door. “Eagle’s Roost Hours: 6PM-1AM every night”. I realized with embarrassment I had walked through the door an hour before opening. Tuck had been nothing but friendly though, and I almost felt bad for assuming the locals like him would want to shoo me away. After all, everyone I’d met so far had been nothing but nice, not including Rocco that is.
As I turned my attention back to my drink I thought about the mine again. I hadn’t seen any records of the mine Tuck mentioned in my internet searches of the town before I came here. Honestly it had been incredibly difficult to dig up anything on the town. I wasn’t necessarily the most thorough in my search, but mines tend to be a staple of the towns they’re located in. This mine in particular seems to be what the town was built on. I’m not sure what had me so worked up on this mine issue but I was sure it was important. I sat there at the bar, mulling it over and sipping on my drink when a hand slapped down on my shoulder.
The man it was attached to said something but I couldn’t catch it even if I wanted to. I was far to laser focused on the mark seared black into the mans hand, the exact same eagle that was burned into my back. I pushed him off and bolted for the door, all I heard behind me was the mans confused “What?” And Tuck shouting at him.
“Now what in the Blazes did you do to the poor kid Robert!”
I shot off into the street from the bar, no one was chasing me but the fact that the symbol was here had set me off like a deer running from a gunshot.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Called a now familiar, heavily accented voice from the alleyway.
“Rocco, what are you doing out here?”
I questioned, bewildered at finding him out in the open. I’d never admit it but seeing a familiar face, even Rocco’s, calmed me down a little
“I’m a raccoon in an alleyway, what do you think I’m doing, fishing? No, I’m rootin' around in the trash, Frank needs some lithium foil and he can’t be bothered to run out and buy some batteries himself, stingy bastard.”
He retorted, looking for all intents and purposes like a normal raccoon at the moment.
“Even if I were to guess I wouldn’t have even come close to that.”
“I live to surprise”
Rocco sneered, taking a bow dripping with sarcasm.
“Anyways Frank is back at the house right? There’s something I’ve got to tell him.”
I asked, turning and running as soon as I got a response in the affirmative.
“Yeah he is, what exactly is so importa…. And he’s gone”
I made it to their strange high house in record time and burst through the door like I owned the place. For some reason Bianca seemed completely unfazed as I crashed into the entryway without so much as a knock.
“You know, you don’t live here right?”
“Oh yeah, good to see you too Bianca. Anyways, were is Frank, or Stein for that matter I’ve got something to ask.”
“They’re in the basement.”
Bianca said pointing to the door without looking up from the book she was reading.
Her dismissive attitude didn’t even register to me as I made my way down the basement steps. I got to the bottom and an acrid scent assaulted my nostrils.
“Do I even want to know what that is?”
I called into the basement, announcing my presence. Frank emerged from a room to my side decked out in a full lab coat and goggles along with a hairnet to protect what little of his still remained.
“What do you need?”
“You guys seem to know a lot about the supernatural right? Well, does this symbol mean anything to you?”
I said pulling off my shirt and turning my back to show him the mark that woman had left me with. His reaction could best be described by the sound of shattering glass as he dropped the beaker he was holding as he saw the symbol.
“Where did you get that?!”
He yelled more than asked.
“Back in Imalone.”
“Imalone? What’s that supposed to mean?”
It dawned on me that I hadn’t explained it to him like I had Bianca, so I filled him in. I told him the whole truth this time, where the mark came from, what really drove me to Eagles Peak, all of it. Frank listened diligently looking more concerned by the minute, at some point Stein joined him. A similarly shocked look was plastered across his face. I swear he was turning white when he answered my question.
“It’s the mark of the Thunderbird, and from what you told us, you met… her in person.”
“So why do you look so worried about it?”
I asked, feeling a little worried.
“Well she’s marked you personally, most people that have that mark would’ve gotten it to show devotion or allegiance and it certainly wouldn’t have come directly from the Thunderbird.”
The way Stein talked about this “Thunderbird” made me think I may be in even deeper shit than I realized.
“So do you two actually know anything about the Thunderbird?”
I asked, hoping these two would know something considering their long study of the supernatural.
“Until recently I only knew of the native legends surrounding the creature. I heard of people marking themselves with that symbol so I assumed there must be some truth to the legends. But neither me nor Frank has ever seen the Thunderbird, much less seen it..er, her take a human form.”
Stein answered, sounding almost disappointed in himself. I got the sense that not knowing something like this really ate at him. Which was just further proven by what he said next, a grin suddenly appearing on his face.
“Frank, I think we have our next big research project on our hands then.”
“I’ll start pulling any records I can find of accounts like Keith’s here.”
Frank said, hurrying over to a computer in the basement corner that looked ancient.
“Yes and compare those to the various legends surrounding the Thunderbird.”
Stein responded, rifling through a row of cabinets against the far wall.
Those two seemed to be whipped into a frenzy by something they knew next to nothing about being dropped in their laps.
“Guys… Guys! Can we hold off on going full mad scientist mode for just a second I’ve got one more thing to ask!”
I yelled trying to get their attention. when they turned to me I could see the spark in both their eyes as they hastily responded in unison.
“Yes, what!”
“Have either of you heard about a mine in this town? Tuck at “Eagle’s Roost” mentioned it but I don’t remember seeing anything about it when I looked into this town.”
“Ah the mine, it’s out in the forest north of town somewhere. There was a collapse or something a few years after it opened and the town covered it up. It would’ve been very embarrassing for them to admit the screw up so they just… didn’t, that’s all there is too it.”
Frank answered, seemingly bothered by the mundaneness of that question.
“So the mine is still out there then?”
“Of course! What did you think it just walked away? No, leave us be we’ve got work to do.”
Stein snapped.
As I left the two to their business and made my way out of the house I ran into Rocco, several grimy batteries grasped in his paws.
“They uh… I don’t think they’ll need those batteries anymore bud.”
“God damnit! That’s what I get for trying to be helpful.”
Rocco yelled, as he threw the batteries against the wall. I had to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here I was walking past a talking raccoon on his way down to two scientists looking into a Thunderbird. That’s a real thing that’s currently happening to me. Just a few days ago simply seeing Rocco knocked me out almost immediately and now he was just a minor inconvenience. Could it be that I was actually adjusting to all the crazy things that had been happening around me? I sure thought so.
Upstairs, Bianca was still nose deep in her book at the kitchen table.
“Hey can I ask you something?”
“Yeah sure, what is it?”
“Ever been into the woods around town? There’s something I want to check out there.”
“I don’t usually leave the house all that much if I’m honest.”
Bianca answered, a touch of sadness in her voice.
“Do you want too? Leave the house I mean.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Well, I’m going to be headed out there tomorrow looking for the old mine.”
“And why are you looking for that?”
She questioned suspiciously.
“I have a feeling it has something to do with the mark that woman… and I forgot I didn’t tell you about that.”
Bianca looked up at me as she said with a smirk.
“I knew there was more to that story from the other night. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I’ll spare you the details but needless to say I told the story again. I really need to start bringing everyone together when I do these things, it would save me time.
“So that’s why you came here, and you think this mine has something to do with it?”
Bianca exclaimed excitedly. I could almost see the lightbulb going off over her head.
“Yeah that’s pretty much it, do you want to come with? I mean you don’t have to go but I”
She cut me off,
“You know what maybe I should go. Two sets of eyes gives us better odds right? And you have a bad history with forgotten places I seem to recall.”
Bianca said with a coy smile.
“That’s what we’ll do then, I’ll get some things ready and stop by tomorrow, we’ll leave from there.”
And before she had a chance to rethink her answer I left feeling pleased with myself.
My next stop was the hardware store on the other side of town. Of course I still had my travel bag from the good old Imalone trip but I figured I’d pick up some more tools that could come in handy.. I ended up with two heavy duty flashlights, some work gloves of various sizes cause I had no idea what size would fit Bianca, and a set of bolt cutters. It was only when I got up to the counter and the clerk gave me the stink eye that I noticed my mistake.
“You planning to break into something kid?”
Questioned the older guy cashing me out. I responded before my brain caught up with my mouth.
“I was planning on it but you guys didn’t sell balaclavas. So I guess I’ll have to wait.”
The man eyed me for a second then burst out laughing as he handed me my things. Which was good because I knew a few places back in Wisconsin where pulling that would’ve got me pulled into a backroom for questioning. Not a lot of people knew how to take a joke back home. Weirdly enough it was the first time I thought of home since coming here. Obviously I had family back there but we weren’t exactly close like I said before. I just found myself missing the familiarity of the area I had lived in for the past 24 years of my life. I think that’s why I came to the decision to call my mother when I got home later that night.
The whole walk home I had this strange feeling of being watched. No-one was there, I’m sure because I checked… several times. But even as I locked the door to my house and starting sorting out a bag of supplies for Bianca, the feeling didn’t go away. As I pulled out my phone to call my mother the feeling finally faded into the background as I got her familiar answering machine.
“Hi, you’ve reached Carla, leave your name and number after the tone.”
Straight and to the point as quickly as possible, that was the best way to describe mom and it showed even in her answering machine.
“Hi mom I bet you’re wondering where I ended up. Well I’m in New York now, in a sleepy little town. Its nice really, I already met some new people they’re… well they’re a bit strange but I think I might fit in with them. I’m still looking for a job but I had a really well paying temp thing the other day so I’ll be fine for a little while. Anyways, hope you’re doing well, love you.”
I teared up a bit as I ended the call, I hadn’t called my mother in at least a year. She never checked up on me and I never checked in with her. We’d see each other at family gatherings and talk but outside of that I didn’t really contact her much anymore. It was sort of a mutual agreement that we both had, we assumed the other was alright. But being this far from Wisconsin, this far from home, had finally caught up with me. I wanted to at least hear her voice, even if it was just a recording.
As I finished up packing for tomorrow I was quite proud of myself. I’d thought of just about everything, I dug some old hiking boots out for myself and some rope from my old travel bag. Several different sets of flint and steel and about three days worth of dehydrated food adorned the top pocket of both bags. I’d even found an old water purification kit that ended up in one of the duffle bags I brought from my apartment. In short, I was the most over prepared for an excursion like this I’d ever been. It did help push back the eyes I felt peering at me from somewhere over my shoulder, the feeling of being watched still not leaving me. Once I laid down and tried to fall asleep the feeling only intensified. Sounds of rolling thunder in the distance reminding me of my time in Imalone and the fury of the storm the Thunderbird brought. I felt strangely confident as well though, tomorrow Bianca and I may finally start to uncover some answers as to why I felt called to this town, and maybe even what this mark could mean for me.
2024.05.18 23:48 AcceptableSet3916 "Jealous wedding guest ruins the money shot": An Essay About The Woman In The Photo
First of all, I would like to say THANK YOU to all of you that showed so much love to my first post ever in Reddit!
Since my girl Millie got too much hate for wearing white and ruining the best photo of the wedding, I decided to write her sad story and share it with all of you. It's a LONG tale, full of ups and mostly downs (TLDR at the end of the post). Sooo, grab some cookies and popcorn while I spill the tea ;)
******WARNING******** The story features what I believe to be unsettling content (pregnancy loss) for some. It's hidden as spoiler, so please don't click it if it's a sensitive issue for you. <3
Our story starts with poor young adult who shall not be named (because I don't remember her name). God (me) had big plans and challenges for her, as she started with 0 simoleons in an off the grid island, with hopes of her becoming a millionaire. She moved in the big island without money, a place to sleep, a toilet, nothing. The challenge goes like this: raise money from beachcombing, buy a towel to sleep on, buy a bush to pee in, snorkel, plant and build a life from zero. And, under no circumstances communicate with another sim.
This challenge was too difficult. The loneliness and hardships, the struggle to just survive and find food, led this young girl to her death by drowning in the middle of the ocean. It was too soon, so God decided to try this challenge again, giving the new sim a head start.
That leads us to the protagonist of the story, Millie Carson.
Millie Carson is a young adult who moved in the same island, like a castaway. All she found on that island was a towel, some planted trees, a toilet bush and a grave.
The ghost from the grave came often to haunt and tease her and finally became her enemy.
At first, young Millie tried to stay away from other sims but, since they kept coming and visiting, God decided that it was ok for her to have some friends.
Millie's neighbors were Miki and Ali, a happy couple with two babies. They kept visiting and bringing food to their poor young neighbor, since she was struggling so much. Millie grew close with Ali, who came swimming to her island sometimes.
Meanwhile, Millie learned some skills that earned her some money and food. She became really good at fitness, gardening and fishing. Little by little, she earned enough money to buy diving supplies and took up some diving photography and treasure hunting. All those helped her build a tiny wood home which finally had a toilet and a shower and even a fridge. Life was getting better for Millie, until she started having feelings for her married neighbor...
Millie was attracted to Ali: his long blond hair, his green eyes and dark skin. To her surprise, Ali was interested in her as well. She tried to fight it but it was over her own power to resist. They made sweet woohoo and became a couple, while he was still married with two kids.
Love makes you do stupid things and that's what happened to Millie. She fell in love with a married man and, surprise surprise, she got pregnant with his kid.
While on her 1st trimester, she visited her neighbolover's home to tell him the news. His wife, Miki, opened the door and the sight was unbelievable: She was pregnant as well, on her 3rd trimester. Millie chatted with Miki as nothing was wrong and even socialized with her kids for a bit. But it was now time for Ali to learn the truth. Millie pulled him aside and told him everything.
To her surprise, Ali was content with being a parent to their child. Millie felt his support and fell even harder for him, causing her to do the unthinkable: Woohoo with him all over his tiny house while his wife and two kids were inside! They woohood EVERYWHERE: The small single bed, the kitchen sink, the counters, standing... They almost got caught by Miki, but hopefully she was so pregnant that it took her an eternity to reach the woohoo spot.
Millie started thinking about their future. Tormented by her jealousy, she asked Ali about Miki. Miki's super pregnant belly was an indicator that Ali still loves and woohoos with his wife, two-timing both women. To her dismay, Ali confessed his love about Miki, but he was willing to keep his relationship with Millie. But that wasn't enough for Millie...
Without hesitation, Millie served Ali an ultimatum: It's her or Miki. No love triangles, no hiding. Her kid needed a father and she needed support as a poor young woman. All those pregnancy hormones made her unreasonable - she came between a happy couple and now she felt that her lover's wife stole him from her, even though they were already together! The irony!
Millie couldn't get over her feelings, so she invited Miki over and told her EVERYTHING. That she was pregnant. That the father was poor Miki's husband. Miki got even yelled at for sleeping with her own husband. Millie was out of control.
Like a tsunami, a force that couldn't be stopped, Millie called over Ali and told him to break it off with his wife. It was now or never. Ali did as told and suddenly Miki broke down crying, hating life and those two who ruined it.
Eventually, Miki left and the.. happy couple were finally alone. Millie asked Ali to move in and he gladly accepted. He even proposed and they stayed engaged until after their baby girl, Angelique, was born.
Meanwhile, even though Miki was hating them, she still came over with extra food like a good neighbor. But her relations with the couple never improved much.
The happy couple decided to get married. Millie wore a pretty but simple boho white dress, hair down and golden jewelry. But her joyful smile was the prettiest jewel she could wear. It was a lovely, quiet wedding on the seashore, during sunset.
Soon after, Millie got pregnant again but wasn't ready or happy for it. Unfortunately, there were some complications with the pregnancy and baby Donovan was born dead. They buried him under a lemon tree and cried for many seasons about him.
Ali started helping Millie with gardening, fishing and diving. But his dream was to finally earn his degree in Communications. He still had 3 classes to pass and then he could enter the PR world. He soon earned his degree with a low to medium score and was ready to start working. There was a huge problem, though...
The island was off the grid and he could not apply for the job, not use the very much needed internet. A decision had to be made: Should they live on this island forever, living off the land, or they should move somewhere else and follow Millie's dream to become millionaires?
The choice was easy. The couple moved to Finchwick, in a big cottage house with a big garden, front and back. They brought with them the plants they had gardened with so much love and also bought some chickens. Life was good for a while, baby Angelique was growing but woohoo life was... fine.
Ali found a job in PR and had to work all day, even from home. He had to polish his charisma and writing skills and meet new people. So, that made Millie a stay at home mom, a gardener, a housekeeper. But there was no time for her lifestyle needs: outdoor living and working out. She became frustrated and was always in a bad and uncomfortable mood. She had gained a lot of weight from her pregnancy, she hardly recognized herself in the mirror...All this bad mood made her cranky. Everytime Ali tried to woohoo with her, she had no drive. So, their love life went down the drain...
Meanwhile, Ali was doing great at work, earning at least 2000 simoleons per day. He had met many people, and one of them became a really good friend of his. His name was Gabriel and he was thin, with black short hair, dark skin and modern makeup.
Ali was tormented by his feelings when he hang out with Gabriel. He couldn't understand how a man can be attracted to another guy like that. He was open to the idea, but had never acted upon it. It wasn't the looks - Gabriel was pretty basic. But there was something about the both of them that made him feel... amazing. The attention he got from Gabriel, the friendship.. It was like they knew each other from another lifetime.
Every time Gabriel came over, Ali got excited. He was interested in his words and inner world, not only his appearance. One night, he couldn't take it anymore. While they were talking the backyard table, Ali started flirting with Gabriel. Things got heated fast and they shared the most beautiful first kiss. That was exactly what he always wanted to feel, but was missing from his other relationships. He proposed to have woohoo in the home office, while Millie and Angelique were sleeping unaware upstairs...
They woohood hard and many times. It was a total WoohooFest. Morning came and Ali, having not slept at all, got ready to go to work. He didn't forget to kiss his wife goodbye, but he spent the entire day thinking about Gabriel. By night, he had decided to ask Gabriel to become his boyfriend.
Millie on the other side, was getting better. She bought a walking machine and she often went swimming in the river. Her woohoo drive was coming back strong and that meant more time with her beloved husband. They started woohooing more often, but Ali was also missing Gabriel...
God suddenly had an idea! Ali should ask Millie to have expanded woohoo with someone else, and that someone else couldn't be other than (yes, you guessed it) Gabriel. Ali went on and asked his wife and God told her that yes, it would be fun! So, unaware of God and her husband's plans, she happily accepted to engage in multiple sim woohoo...
Ali was so excited! He couldn't believe his ears! He immediately called over Gabriel and explained the situation. Gabriel accepted as well and it was time for Gabriel to meet with Millie. Millie tried to get to know him but for some reason he was distant. She tried to flirt with him but he didn't reciprocate. Millie got embarrassed and locked herself in her room for some time, to recollect herself. It shouldn't be so hard, right?
At the same time, Ali made his move on Gabriel and they woohood. Gabriel was more than excited to get together with Ali. So, why not Millie?
After Millie got over her embarrassment, she came out the room. Ali proposed having multiple woohoo and they did it. Everyone had a pleasant time.
After that, they got together two more times. But, the last time, at Gabriel's house, was the final blow.
Millie kept trying to flirt alone with Gabriel, not getting the message but, DUDE. He was NOT into her. It was heartbreaking. She tried so hard for her husband, her self esteem and again, she was turned down. A second choice. She didn't deserve it. And then, she though about it. The flirt between Ali and Gabriel. How they would have woohoo, the three of them, but Gabriel was rejecting her. It was time for answers...
Millie first told Ali to end the expanded woohoo agreement. It was too much for her. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. And then, she asked the million dollar question: "What's going on between you two?". Ali tried to hide it, told her they were only friends. But God was starting to feel bad about poor Millie, so had her ask again: "WHAT'S GOING ON BETWEEN YOU TWO?"
The answer was like a knife, going through her heart. Ali loved Gabriel and that's all she needed to know. Their woohoo life was non existent before and now had found someone who made him feel better, more... alive! That's all Millie needed to know. She went over to Gabriel and try to make a last, desperate woohoo pass at him. Once more, he rejected her. It was all so clear. She was the third wheel.
Her ego and her heart were stomped on the ground, like a cockroach. A beautiful, kind, hard working sim shouldn't go through all that. She headed back home, to the privacy of her bedroom and cried her eyeballs out. Ali didn't come home that night and went straight to work.
The next day, Millie invited Gabriel over. Oooh no, she wouldn't let him have Ali so easily. She would humiliate him first. He came over and she started yelling at him. Her face was red and hot, she was fueled by rage. She ending up giving him the beating of his life. When Ali came home from work, both his lovers were black and blue from fighting.
Baby Angelique started crying. She had woken up. Millie rushed upstairs to help her toddler with her needs, but Ali and Gabriel stayed downstairs. Ali tried to comfort Gabriel, asking him to stay. He didn't care about his marriage anymore. God led them to the hall upstairs, outside the bedrooms. They started woohooing again, right there, like animals!
Poor Millie, as she opened her daughter's bedroom's door, she caught her cheater husband in the act! THE AUDACITY!!! And if it that wasn't enough, when she went over to slap him, he acted like she wasn't there and went to woohoo in the shower with his boyfriend - AGAIN! WTH!!!
At this point, Millie knew it was time to give Ali the boot and kick him the hell out of their home, and so she did. After Ali's lover left, the married couple had a long, heated conversation that only had one outcome - Ali had to move out immediately.
So, he left and rented a one-bedroom apartment in the city. He also decided to ask Gabriel to live with him, and Gabriel happily accepted. A new chapter started for Ali but unresolved things were left in the middle with his wife that needed to be dealt with.
While all these took place, Millie had gotten close with celebrity Rahul Chopra. They became good friends and she was invited to his wedding. It was a one of a kind event because Rahul had a shotgun wedding with his wife when they were teenagers due to unwanted pregnancy. After many kids later, Rahul's eldest daughter, with the villainous valentine aspiration (long story) decided to break her eternally faithful parents up for fun. So they did break up, but they were so made for each other, like puzzle pieces, that it was impossible to not end up together again.
Rahul fell back in love with his wife and they decided to do it right this time. They planned the perfect wedding event in San Myshuno's park, during sunset. The whole family was there and their 2nd child, Philip (YA) would take the professional pictures of the wedding.
The ceremony started, everyone (almost) was seated and the photographer (and me) were preoccupied with taking the happy couples pictures. As the ceremony ended, the couple was ready to share their first kiss as husband and wife. The air was filled with confetti that floated playfully around them, the fireworks were set off behing them and the sun was showering them with the warmest rays. It was a one time opportunity to get the perfect picture. Philip got ready to press click. And then, she appeared.
Millie, clearly bothered and heartbroken by other people's love, made a run for the exit and ruined Philip's perfect photograph. The angry look on her face would forever haunt Philip's mind. Why would that woman ruin this happy moment and why the hell would she wear white at someone's wedding? I mean, you wouldn't mistake her for the bride, who wore an expensive wedding gown, but still... Something was wrong with this girl and Philip had to find out...
After the wedding, Millie went back home. The days passed and the divorce was not finalized. She asked her kid who she wanted to stay with, but without reply. She called Ali over, but he texted back he didn't want to come over. Millie had her -now child- daughter call over her dad. This time, Ali responded positively and soon after he arrived. Millie took him straight to the lawyers to see who will get custody of Angelique.
This time, God had no plans, God left it all to luck. So, unfortunately, Ali won custody of Angelique, who immediately went to live with him. Now, Millie was alone. Only her and her money and her baby son's grave in the front yard. Now she was angry, NOW HE WOULD PAY.
Millie grabbed Ali and went once again to the lawyers. It was now time to split the estate. At least 100k simoleons in the bank, plus whatever the house is worth. Millie wants to get everything, but once again, God won't interfere. She comes back home, head down, beaten - she lost 80k.
She turns to her new friend, Philip. He is basic, but he's a good guy. He lives alone in an apartment in San Myshuno, studies Fine Arts in university, comes from a good family. He also has a girlfriend that lives across the hall from him, but Millie doesn't know. And God tells her to come onto him. Now Philip has two girlfriends and God must interfere.
God and luck are playing games with Millie's life.
As I'm writing her story, there's only one thing I feel: Sad.
This girl started out with hopes and dreams. So I think that we should forgive her for attending a friend's wedding wearing white. Some God forgot to change her formal outfit and it was all she had to wear. She's going through a lot!
Her story ends for now, but if you guys like it I might write more about her life's adventures.
Also, what should she do with Philip? Let me know in the comments!
If you read this whole essay / story , you are amazing! And thanks! Hope you liked it! :)
TLDR: YA woman starts with 0 money in off the grid island. Wants to earn a million. Gets pregnant by married neighbor with kids. Marries him and they buy new home. They get pregnant second time, lose the baby.He gets a good job, meets new people, gets new guy friend, has woohoo with that friend. The 3 of them have expanded woohoo. Woman breaks it off. Woman confronts husband about loving other man, he confesses he loves him. Woman kicks him out and he lives alone in flat. The other guy moves in with him. Woman heartbroken, goes to friends wedding wearing white, is angry at happy couple's love, ruins the married couple kiss photo. Photo becomes famous on Reddit. Woman loses custody of only child. Woman loses 80k simoleons after splitting estate. Woman becomes girlfriend of the photographer from the friend's wedding. Photographer already has another girlfriend.
*****EDIT*********** I can't believe I forgot to write this, but Millie also drowned in the ocean while being fatigued from diving for treasures. I decided to not save and give her a second chance. Her life is dramatic, UUUUUUGH!!!!
submitted by AcceptableSet3916 to thesims4 [link] [comments]
Since my girl Millie got too much hate for wearing white and ruining the best photo of the wedding, I decided to write her sad story and share it with all of you. It's a LONG tale, full of ups and mostly downs (TLDR at the end of the post). Sooo, grab some cookies and popcorn while I spill the tea ;)
******WARNING******** The story features what I believe to be unsettling content (pregnancy loss) for some. It's hidden as spoiler, so please don't click it if it's a sensitive issue for you. <3
Our story starts with poor young adult who shall not be named (because I don't remember her name). God (me) had big plans and challenges for her, as she started with 0 simoleons in an off the grid island, with hopes of her becoming a millionaire. She moved in the big island without money, a place to sleep, a toilet, nothing. The challenge goes like this: raise money from beachcombing, buy a towel to sleep on, buy a bush to pee in, snorkel, plant and build a life from zero. And, under no circumstances communicate with another sim.
This challenge was too difficult. The loneliness and hardships, the struggle to just survive and find food, led this young girl to her death by drowning in the middle of the ocean. It was too soon, so God decided to try this challenge again, giving the new sim a head start.
That leads us to the protagonist of the story, Millie Carson.
Millie Carson is a young adult who moved in the same island, like a castaway. All she found on that island was a towel, some planted trees, a toilet bush and a grave.
The ghost from the grave came often to haunt and tease her and finally became her enemy.
At first, young Millie tried to stay away from other sims but, since they kept coming and visiting, God decided that it was ok for her to have some friends.
Millie's neighbors were Miki and Ali, a happy couple with two babies. They kept visiting and bringing food to their poor young neighbor, since she was struggling so much. Millie grew close with Ali, who came swimming to her island sometimes.
Meanwhile, Millie learned some skills that earned her some money and food. She became really good at fitness, gardening and fishing. Little by little, she earned enough money to buy diving supplies and took up some diving photography and treasure hunting. All those helped her build a tiny wood home which finally had a toilet and a shower and even a fridge. Life was getting better for Millie, until she started having feelings for her married neighbor...
Millie was attracted to Ali: his long blond hair, his green eyes and dark skin. To her surprise, Ali was interested in her as well. She tried to fight it but it was over her own power to resist. They made sweet woohoo and became a couple, while he was still married with two kids.
Love makes you do stupid things and that's what happened to Millie. She fell in love with a married man and, surprise surprise, she got pregnant with his kid.
While on her 1st trimester, she visited her neighbolover's home to tell him the news. His wife, Miki, opened the door and the sight was unbelievable: She was pregnant as well, on her 3rd trimester. Millie chatted with Miki as nothing was wrong and even socialized with her kids for a bit. But it was now time for Ali to learn the truth. Millie pulled him aside and told him everything.
To her surprise, Ali was content with being a parent to their child. Millie felt his support and fell even harder for him, causing her to do the unthinkable: Woohoo with him all over his tiny house while his wife and two kids were inside! They woohood EVERYWHERE: The small single bed, the kitchen sink, the counters, standing... They almost got caught by Miki, but hopefully she was so pregnant that it took her an eternity to reach the woohoo spot.
Millie started thinking about their future. Tormented by her jealousy, she asked Ali about Miki. Miki's super pregnant belly was an indicator that Ali still loves and woohoos with his wife, two-timing both women. To her dismay, Ali confessed his love about Miki, but he was willing to keep his relationship with Millie. But that wasn't enough for Millie...
Without hesitation, Millie served Ali an ultimatum: It's her or Miki. No love triangles, no hiding. Her kid needed a father and she needed support as a poor young woman. All those pregnancy hormones made her unreasonable - she came between a happy couple and now she felt that her lover's wife stole him from her, even though they were already together! The irony!
Millie couldn't get over her feelings, so she invited Miki over and told her EVERYTHING. That she was pregnant. That the father was poor Miki's husband. Miki got even yelled at for sleeping with her own husband. Millie was out of control.
Like a tsunami, a force that couldn't be stopped, Millie called over Ali and told him to break it off with his wife. It was now or never. Ali did as told and suddenly Miki broke down crying, hating life and those two who ruined it.
Eventually, Miki left and the.. happy couple were finally alone. Millie asked Ali to move in and he gladly accepted. He even proposed and they stayed engaged until after their baby girl, Angelique, was born.
Meanwhile, even though Miki was hating them, she still came over with extra food like a good neighbor. But her relations with the couple never improved much.
The happy couple decided to get married. Millie wore a pretty but simple boho white dress, hair down and golden jewelry. But her joyful smile was the prettiest jewel she could wear. It was a lovely, quiet wedding on the seashore, during sunset.
Soon after, Millie got pregnant again but wasn't ready or happy for it. Unfortunately, there were some complications with the pregnancy and baby Donovan was born dead. They buried him under a lemon tree and cried for many seasons about him.
Ali started helping Millie with gardening, fishing and diving. But his dream was to finally earn his degree in Communications. He still had 3 classes to pass and then he could enter the PR world. He soon earned his degree with a low to medium score and was ready to start working. There was a huge problem, though...
The island was off the grid and he could not apply for the job, not use the very much needed internet. A decision had to be made: Should they live on this island forever, living off the land, or they should move somewhere else and follow Millie's dream to become millionaires?
The choice was easy. The couple moved to Finchwick, in a big cottage house with a big garden, front and back. They brought with them the plants they had gardened with so much love and also bought some chickens. Life was good for a while, baby Angelique was growing but woohoo life was... fine.
Ali found a job in PR and had to work all day, even from home. He had to polish his charisma and writing skills and meet new people. So, that made Millie a stay at home mom, a gardener, a housekeeper. But there was no time for her lifestyle needs: outdoor living and working out. She became frustrated and was always in a bad and uncomfortable mood. She had gained a lot of weight from her pregnancy, she hardly recognized herself in the mirror...All this bad mood made her cranky. Everytime Ali tried to woohoo with her, she had no drive. So, their love life went down the drain...
Meanwhile, Ali was doing great at work, earning at least 2000 simoleons per day. He had met many people, and one of them became a really good friend of his. His name was Gabriel and he was thin, with black short hair, dark skin and modern makeup.
Ali was tormented by his feelings when he hang out with Gabriel. He couldn't understand how a man can be attracted to another guy like that. He was open to the idea, but had never acted upon it. It wasn't the looks - Gabriel was pretty basic. But there was something about the both of them that made him feel... amazing. The attention he got from Gabriel, the friendship.. It was like they knew each other from another lifetime.
Every time Gabriel came over, Ali got excited. He was interested in his words and inner world, not only his appearance. One night, he couldn't take it anymore. While they were talking the backyard table, Ali started flirting with Gabriel. Things got heated fast and they shared the most beautiful first kiss. That was exactly what he always wanted to feel, but was missing from his other relationships. He proposed to have woohoo in the home office, while Millie and Angelique were sleeping unaware upstairs...
They woohood hard and many times. It was a total WoohooFest. Morning came and Ali, having not slept at all, got ready to go to work. He didn't forget to kiss his wife goodbye, but he spent the entire day thinking about Gabriel. By night, he had decided to ask Gabriel to become his boyfriend.
Millie on the other side, was getting better. She bought a walking machine and she often went swimming in the river. Her woohoo drive was coming back strong and that meant more time with her beloved husband. They started woohooing more often, but Ali was also missing Gabriel...
God suddenly had an idea! Ali should ask Millie to have expanded woohoo with someone else, and that someone else couldn't be other than (yes, you guessed it) Gabriel. Ali went on and asked his wife and God told her that yes, it would be fun! So, unaware of God and her husband's plans, she happily accepted to engage in multiple sim woohoo...
Ali was so excited! He couldn't believe his ears! He immediately called over Gabriel and explained the situation. Gabriel accepted as well and it was time for Gabriel to meet with Millie. Millie tried to get to know him but for some reason he was distant. She tried to flirt with him but he didn't reciprocate. Millie got embarrassed and locked herself in her room for some time, to recollect herself. It shouldn't be so hard, right?
At the same time, Ali made his move on Gabriel and they woohood. Gabriel was more than excited to get together with Ali. So, why not Millie?
After Millie got over her embarrassment, she came out the room. Ali proposed having multiple woohoo and they did it. Everyone had a pleasant time.
After that, they got together two more times. But, the last time, at Gabriel's house, was the final blow.
Millie kept trying to flirt alone with Gabriel, not getting the message but, DUDE. He was NOT into her. It was heartbreaking. She tried so hard for her husband, her self esteem and again, she was turned down. A second choice. She didn't deserve it. And then, she though about it. The flirt between Ali and Gabriel. How they would have woohoo, the three of them, but Gabriel was rejecting her. It was time for answers...
Millie first told Ali to end the expanded woohoo agreement. It was too much for her. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. And then, she asked the million dollar question: "What's going on between you two?". Ali tried to hide it, told her they were only friends. But God was starting to feel bad about poor Millie, so had her ask again: "WHAT'S GOING ON BETWEEN YOU TWO?"
The answer was like a knife, going through her heart. Ali loved Gabriel and that's all she needed to know. Their woohoo life was non existent before and now had found someone who made him feel better, more... alive! That's all Millie needed to know. She went over to Gabriel and try to make a last, desperate woohoo pass at him. Once more, he rejected her. It was all so clear. She was the third wheel.
Her ego and her heart were stomped on the ground, like a cockroach. A beautiful, kind, hard working sim shouldn't go through all that. She headed back home, to the privacy of her bedroom and cried her eyeballs out. Ali didn't come home that night and went straight to work.
The next day, Millie invited Gabriel over. Oooh no, she wouldn't let him have Ali so easily. She would humiliate him first. He came over and she started yelling at him. Her face was red and hot, she was fueled by rage. She ending up giving him the beating of his life. When Ali came home from work, both his lovers were black and blue from fighting.
Baby Angelique started crying. She had woken up. Millie rushed upstairs to help her toddler with her needs, but Ali and Gabriel stayed downstairs. Ali tried to comfort Gabriel, asking him to stay. He didn't care about his marriage anymore. God led them to the hall upstairs, outside the bedrooms. They started woohooing again, right there, like animals!
Poor Millie, as she opened her daughter's bedroom's door, she caught her cheater husband in the act! THE AUDACITY!!! And if it that wasn't enough, when she went over to slap him, he acted like she wasn't there and went to woohoo in the shower with his boyfriend - AGAIN! WTH!!!
At this point, Millie knew it was time to give Ali the boot and kick him the hell out of their home, and so she did. After Ali's lover left, the married couple had a long, heated conversation that only had one outcome - Ali had to move out immediately.
So, he left and rented a one-bedroom apartment in the city. He also decided to ask Gabriel to live with him, and Gabriel happily accepted. A new chapter started for Ali but unresolved things were left in the middle with his wife that needed to be dealt with.
While all these took place, Millie had gotten close with celebrity Rahul Chopra. They became good friends and she was invited to his wedding. It was a one of a kind event because Rahul had a shotgun wedding with his wife when they were teenagers due to unwanted pregnancy. After many kids later, Rahul's eldest daughter, with the villainous valentine aspiration (long story) decided to break her eternally faithful parents up for fun. So they did break up, but they were so made for each other, like puzzle pieces, that it was impossible to not end up together again.
Rahul fell back in love with his wife and they decided to do it right this time. They planned the perfect wedding event in San Myshuno's park, during sunset. The whole family was there and their 2nd child, Philip (YA) would take the professional pictures of the wedding.
The ceremony started, everyone (almost) was seated and the photographer (and me) were preoccupied with taking the happy couples pictures. As the ceremony ended, the couple was ready to share their first kiss as husband and wife. The air was filled with confetti that floated playfully around them, the fireworks were set off behing them and the sun was showering them with the warmest rays. It was a one time opportunity to get the perfect picture. Philip got ready to press click. And then, she appeared.
Millie, clearly bothered and heartbroken by other people's love, made a run for the exit and ruined Philip's perfect photograph. The angry look on her face would forever haunt Philip's mind. Why would that woman ruin this happy moment and why the hell would she wear white at someone's wedding? I mean, you wouldn't mistake her for the bride, who wore an expensive wedding gown, but still... Something was wrong with this girl and Philip had to find out...
After the wedding, Millie went back home. The days passed and the divorce was not finalized. She asked her kid who she wanted to stay with, but without reply. She called Ali over, but he texted back he didn't want to come over. Millie had her -now child- daughter call over her dad. This time, Ali responded positively and soon after he arrived. Millie took him straight to the lawyers to see who will get custody of Angelique.
This time, God had no plans, God left it all to luck. So, unfortunately, Ali won custody of Angelique, who immediately went to live with him. Now, Millie was alone. Only her and her money and her baby son's grave in the front yard. Now she was angry, NOW HE WOULD PAY.
Millie grabbed Ali and went once again to the lawyers. It was now time to split the estate. At least 100k simoleons in the bank, plus whatever the house is worth. Millie wants to get everything, but once again, God won't interfere. She comes back home, head down, beaten - she lost 80k.
She turns to her new friend, Philip. He is basic, but he's a good guy. He lives alone in an apartment in San Myshuno, studies Fine Arts in university, comes from a good family. He also has a girlfriend that lives across the hall from him, but Millie doesn't know. And God tells her to come onto him. Now Philip has two girlfriends and God must interfere.
God and luck are playing games with Millie's life.
As I'm writing her story, there's only one thing I feel: Sad.
This girl started out with hopes and dreams. So I think that we should forgive her for attending a friend's wedding wearing white. Some God forgot to change her formal outfit and it was all she had to wear. She's going through a lot!
Her story ends for now, but if you guys like it I might write more about her life's adventures.
Also, what should she do with Philip? Let me know in the comments!
If you read this whole essay / story , you are amazing! And thanks! Hope you liked it! :)
TLDR: YA woman starts with 0 money in off the grid island. Wants to earn a million. Gets pregnant by married neighbor with kids. Marries him and they buy new home. They get pregnant second time, lose the baby.He gets a good job, meets new people, gets new guy friend, has woohoo with that friend. The 3 of them have expanded woohoo. Woman breaks it off. Woman confronts husband about loving other man, he confesses he loves him. Woman kicks him out and he lives alone in flat. The other guy moves in with him. Woman heartbroken, goes to friends wedding wearing white, is angry at happy couple's love, ruins the married couple kiss photo. Photo becomes famous on Reddit. Woman loses custody of only child. Woman loses 80k simoleons after splitting estate. Woman becomes girlfriend of the photographer from the friend's wedding. Photographer already has another girlfriend.
*****EDIT*********** I can't believe I forgot to write this, but Millie also drowned in the ocean while being fatigued from diving for treasures. I decided to not save and give her a second chance. Her life is dramatic, UUUUUUGH!!!!
2024.05.18 23:38 Saturdead Samuel came from a Strange Place
Back in 2016, I was working at a roadside diner west of St. Cloud, Minnesota. Neat little place, had a bit of a 60’s vibe to it, but without the hairdo. On the slow hours of the day, or whenever we just had locals around, I’d be humming along with the chefs playing radio out of the kitchen. It wasn’t an exciting time, but it was nice to have a workplace that felt like a second home.
A couple of weekends a month, we had an all-night crew to serve passing truckers. You usually never had to do more than one shift though, and we got to make own schedules. Our boss was pretty hands-off. It was during one of those shifts, at the first week of early summer, that my life took a turn for the worse – and I didn’t even realize it.
We were used to having the occasional odd customer during those hours of the day. When this guy walked in, I didn’t know what to think. He was about 6’2, bald, and pale as chalk. He wore this worn-out t-shirt that looked like it’d been on fire. With every step, he dragged his feet, and collapsed in one of our booths, seemingly exhausted.
I looked back at the chef, and he just shrugged. Guy wasn’t hurting anyone, but he didn’t look like he was all there. But a job’s a job, so I went up to him.
“You alright there?” I asked.
He looked up at me like I was speaking a foreign language, then sunk his head back down, gently shaking it.
“Nah,” he said. “I, uh… I don’t think I am.”
He had this voice on the knife’s edge between a hysterical laugh and a howling cry. He was trembling.
“You need me to call someone?”
“Call?”
“Yeah, call someone.”
“How?”
I didn’t understand the question. I figured he was coming down from some kind of binge, and I wasn’t about to take any chances. I asked the chef to get me a side of bacon to keep the guy calm while I called the police.
As I slid the plate over to him, he sunk his face into his hands, sobbing.
“T-thank you,” he cried. “I-I’m… please…”
I sat down across from him, instinctively reaching out to grab his hand. He let me. Even at a light touch, I could feel the scars on his palm and fingertips. Whatever’d happened to him, it must’ve been awful.
“I can’t go back,” he sniffled. “Don’t make me go back. I can’t. Please, I can’t.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s okay,” I smiled. “You’re safe here.”
“Can you help me?” he asked. “Can you keep him out?”
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” I nodded. “Just eat up. It’s okay.”
His fingers trembled as he tentatively bit off a piece of bacon. His teeth were black, and he flinched.
“I need time,” he said. “I need time to run.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “We’ve called for help.”
“I just… I just need time.”
We just sat there for a while. He calmed his breathing but kept staring out the window. I could tell he was looking for something – or someone. All I could see was a road and a handful of moths. We sat there for some time, in silence, as he carefully nibbled on the slices of maple bacon.
As two police officers entered the diner, he got up from his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of scrunched-up trash. A couple of singles, a plastic card, dirt, and something resembling animal bones. He tried to straighten out the bills, pushing them into my hands along with the laminated card.
“Just… I need time. I’ll come back. Please.”
I didn’t understand. I just nodded and accepted it. Seconds later, the officers asked him to step outside and explain the situation. I got busy taking orders from a couple of passing truckers, watching glimpses of the scene through the window. A couple of minutes later, the strange man was taken away.
My shift ended at sunrise. I dragged myself to my car with a yawn, shuffling around my pockets for the keys. I hadn’t thought much about the items he’d handed me, but I took a closer look. I’d thrown away the animal bones and dirt, but there were a couple of dollar bills and that laminated card left. I checked the card first.
It looked like some kind of bookmark. On one side it was completely white, and on the other side there were dried blue flower petals arranged in a spiral. Kinda reminded me of a sunflower. And finally, there were the dollar bills.
I didn’t pay much attention to these at first. Just a couple of singles. But after a closer look, I noticed something unusual. There was a man on the bill that I didn’t recognize. It took me a couple of google searches to realize that this man was Walter Mondale – the man who’d lost to Ronald Reagan’s second run for president back in ’84. Why was this man on a one-dollar bill?
Before heading to bed, I put the items down on my nightstand. In a moment of silent wonder, I looked out the window. What had that man been looking for? What’d he been running from?
There was nothing out there.
Just a couple of moths.
Waking up the next morning, I had a full day off. I spent it cleaning my apartment, watching movies, having dinner with a couple of friends, and ending the night with a couple of drinks at the pub down on the corner. No binge or anything, just got a bit boozy. I was still gonna be in bed by midnight.
I took the scenic route home; a long walk. All the way down main street, past the lake. I took a shortcut through the park by the final stretch, speeding up a bit. That place was trouble.
As I hurried by the fountain, I spotted someone in the distance. A shrouded figure at the edge of the streetlights. I stopped to observe for a second, but as I did, the lights flickered. Coming back on, the figure was gone.
I chalked it up to imagination. I was a bit drunk, after all. Besides – it was small, like a child. What the hell would a kid be doing out at this hour?
A couple of days passed. I didn’t notice anything unusual, but I kept coming back to that distressing feeling of missing something important. Looking back at it now, I just feel dumb. He was there all along. Outside the supermarket. In the parking lot. Off the highway. Hell, he was outside my window at night sometimes, but just too short for me to spot.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
It wasn’t until one morning when I was driving to work that I got a clear view of him. I was crossing a four-way street, taking a sharp left turn, when I had to throw myself on the breaks. There was a kid in the middle of the street.
I hadn’t seen him that clearly before. He was probably around 6, maybe 7 years old. Wearing a plain black shirt and a pair of light blue canvas pants. Short black hair, dark eyes, and no shoes. That particular detail stuck with me. No shoes? Why?
I almost lost control, but I was lucky. There wasn’t much traffic, and I managed to stop further down the road. There were black lines in the pavement from my screeching tires swerving back and forth. Regaining my composure, I looked in the rear-view mirror.
The kid was gone.
But that was just the start.
I’d spot him every now and then. Looking out the window at work. At the gas station. A passing face in the crowd when shopping for groceries. Every now and then, something would pull on my attention, forcing me to whip my head around, looking for the source of that ill feeling crawling up my spine. Sometimes I saw him. And even worse – sometimes I didn’t.
I remember lying awake at night, hearing moths tap against my window. There was nothing else. Nothing outside. I patrolled my apartment six times, checking every window. I’d looked everywhere, and there was no reason for me to feel the way I did. I was growing paranoid.
And yet, in the morning, my front door was unlocked, and slightly open.
It all came to a head one afternoon when I was out on my smoke break. I’d barely slept for the past three nights, and you could kinda tell I was having a bad day. As I stood there, leaning against the side door of the diner, I see the kid again. This time just across the road, maybe 50 feet or so away. I’d had enough. This had to end.
I was furious. I stormed forward, calling him out with every slur and curse I could think of. I was psyching myself up. I was in the right, and I refused to be harassed anymore – kid or not. Didn’t matter. I crossed the road, barely dodging a speeding jeep, and met him face-to-face.
“What the hell do you want?!” I’d yell. “Why are you following me?!”
He was completely expressionless. He didn’t even flinch, no matter how much I pointed or screamed. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, and he didn’t even blink. He just stared at me, like a porcelain doll head on a swivel.
I wasn’t thinking about the bystanders though. A couple of middle-aged men stepped up, asking in no kind terms what the hell was wrong with me. I was held back and restrained. Someone called the police. Someone else called my manager – I’d forgotten to take off my apron, so they could see the diner logo. A couple of people filmed it. One of the videos got like 120k views in a day before it fell off the map. I still see it as a react gif sometimes.
It was a disaster. After a couple of officers came by to talk to me, he’d just disappeared into thin air. The officers took me down to the station – not to detain me, but to get me away from the heated crowd. That car ride downtown sobered me up to what the hell was going on. I was being stalked by this kid, but there wasn’t a living soul out there that would believe me.
Well, maybe one.
Maybe.
I was asked a couple of questions and released within about half an hour. They told me to go home and sleep this whole thing off. That wouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t have a job to go back to anyway, according to the (many) texts I’d gotten. I had all the goddamn time in the world.
I was just about to leave when something came to mind. The two officers who’d picked me up were still waiting by their car when I turned back to them.
“Sorry, you picked up the guy I called in about at the diner, right?” I asked.
“Sure did.”
“You got any idea what happened to him?”
The two looked at one another for a moment, shrugged, and turned to me.
“Didn’t have any ID and gave a fake name. I think they took him to psych.”
“Psych?”
“Well, he was saying some, uh… strange things. There were interviews with a, uh…”
The two quieted down and flashed me a smile.
“There’s not that much we can say.”
Coming home, I decided to get to the root of this. It didn’t take me that long to find the place where the guy’d been taken; there aren’t a lot of mental health facilities in this part of the country. Especially facilities that accept involuntary subjects.
But my eyes kept drifting back to the strange dollar bills he’d given me, resting neatly on my nightstand. They were so detailed. A bit old, sure, but that only made them seem more genuine. What the hell was he doing with a handful of clearly fake dollar bills? Like, what’s the purpose? There had to be a purpose.
That unnerved me.
I managed to arrange a meeting. It wasn’t easy, and I think a lot of it boiled down to the police having no idea what could make this guy talk. For some reason, he kept providing them with false information. Maybe a familiar face, for one reason or another, might make him talk.
Just a couple of days later, I was putting my items in a metal bowl on the second floor at a mental health institute in the next town over. I asked one of the nurses if I could keep one of my dollar bills. Apparently, that was okay.
I was shuffled through a couple of locked doors and escorted to an off-white side-room. No décor, no locks. The guy was already there.
He’d been dressed down into these neutral eggshell-white garbs. It was strange seeing him in a lit-up room like this. I didn’t know what to expect.
Getting a closer look at him, he was probably in his 50’s. It’d been hard to tell earlier. I couldn’t get over just how pale he was; it was almost a complete lack of pigment. It looked sickly. His thin arms didn’t help – he looked malnourished. And yet, he was smiling.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello to you too,” I smiled. “You doing okay?”
“I’m… I’m pretty good,” he nodded. “Thank you.”
I sat down across from him and took out the dollar bill he’d given me.
“I wanted to ask you about this.”
“For the bacon,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, was that not enough?”
“No, it’s…”
I took a moment to compose myself. I had too many questions.
He sighed, took the bill, and looked it over. Looking back at me, I could tell there was something painful stirring in his mind. His smile slowly faded.
“Sorry,” he said. “I try to forget sometimes. It’s easier than making sense of it.”
“Let’s start with something simple,” I nodded. “Like… your name. Where you’re from.”
“Those things are pretty far from simple.”
He was looking straight through me; his eyes sinking back to deeper, more uncomfortable thoughts.
His name was Samuel, and he was born around these parts in back in the 1970’s. He’d worked as a telecommunications specialist out of St. Cloud back in the 90's. He had a wife, three children, and a four-bedroom house.
“But it… that was all before, see?” he explained. “Then it all just…”
“Just what?” I asked. “What happened?”
He looked at me, opening and closing his mouth, looking for the right words to come out. Nothing happened. He shook his head, trying again.
“It started with the street preachers,” he said. “Hundreds of them, marching on every city. All saying the same doomsday shit as always. World was dying. All coming to an end.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that.”
“Then there were storms,” he continued without skipping a beat. “Some would last for weeks. Others longer. Entire cities would be flooded or torn apart. Earthquakes causing monster waves along the east coast, sending shockwaves all the way to mainland Europe. Then, Yellowstone.”
“Yellowstone?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Lights out.”
Samuel was painting this apocalyptic vision of a world undone. Catastrophe after catastrophe. Hooded people marching the streets, screaming for the mercy of a mad god. But there was more to it.
“Then things stopped making sense. It’s as if the rules changed,” he continued. “Roads would stop leading home. Trees would change color. People turned twisted and corrupted. Like… one of our neighbors couldn’t eat anything but gunpowder. There was a woman just down the street who tried to kill anyone wearing glasses. It was… pandemonium.”
I didn’t say anything. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, but he was trying his best to keep his rambling coherent.
“The plants died. Trees too. The only thing that could grow in that environment were these twisted blue things that popped up out of nowhere. But people… people are what got twisted the most.”
He told me of these towering 7-foot-tall humanoid creatures that roamed the forests. Black as night – not even reflecting light. Arms reaching all the way to their knees. Elongated, inhuman things that all used to be someone he knew.
“The doomsayers all said the same thing,” he continued. “That God was a scared little boy, and that he was dying. Everything that was happening was just an expression of that ceaseless, bottomless, existential grief.”
Samuel looked back and forth, finally burying his face in his hands.
“It all broke down. Roads stopped leading anywhere. No power. No water. Julie changed. Ollie changed. Tobie made himself a mask and wandered off into the woods. Ira just… disappeared. And for… years? Has it been years? It’s just been me.”
“But you’re here, now,” I said. “And what you’re describing, it… it didn’t happen.”
“It happened,” he insisted. “Just not… here. But here.”
He tapped his finger on the single dollar bill.
“Somewhere, somehow, I must’ve taken a wrong turn. I slipped through something broken, and now I’m here. And… and he’s coming to bring me back. He doesn’t want anyone to leave.”
“Who?”
“Just! Just…” he chuckled. “Just a sad little boy who’s been told he’s going to die.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just sat with him for a while, holding his hand.
Before I left, Samuel got up from his chair. He looked at me, forcing himself to smile.
“If I go back, I’ll try not to… to be like them. I’ll try. And… and I’ll be the one to say something.”
He let out a painful little laugh, shaking his head.
“Maybe just a… hello.”
I left that day with more questions than answers. I couldn’t picture the world he’d lived through. Then again, how could it be true? None of it had happened. But what was he gaining from lying about it?
That was the last time I saw Samuel. A few days later, he went missing, as if he’d disappeared into thin air. I didn’t know what to think of it. There was nothing on the cameras – no one entering or leaving the building. No quick escapes, no clever plans. He’d just walked into his room and disappeared. Nothing left but a couple of moths fluttering about.
And for a while, that was it. That was the end of the story. I got busy looking for a new job, and all the little items given to me by Samuel was put away into a little box in my glove compartment. Life soldiered on, and no matter how many questions I had, there was no one around to answer them. Even the strange kid that’d been following me was, seemingly, gone.
A couple of months later, I was driving home from a friend’s place. I stopped at a four-way street, waiting for a couple of trucks to pass, when there was a knock on the passenger side window. I almost choked on my own spit. Scared me half to death.
Looking out, I could see that kid again. I hadn’t seen him for some time, and I quickly bounced between curiosity and downright anger.
“What do you want?” I yelled out.
There was no response. Instead, the door just opened. It’d been locked. As he opened the door, he pointed to the glove box.
“You want his things?” I asked. “Is that it?”
He nodded. I wanted to lash out, but there was something telling me I shouldn’t. Instead, I reached over, opened the glove compartment, and pointed to the box.
“Just take it and leave me alone,” I said. “Get it over with.”
He reached in and grabbed the box. So much effort for a couple of mementos. I turned my head back to face the road. The kid backed out. But of course, I had to get the last word in.
“Not even a thank you, huh?”
That made him pause. He looked at me, tilting his head. As he opened his mouth to speak, a moth fluttered out. Then another. And another.
Then – darkness.
What happened next is hard to describe. My memory of it is fragmented. It’s like trying to watch a buffering video, where long stretches of it are just nothing – but you know something was supposed to happen in-between.
Blink. I was sitting in my car. There was a dark blue sky. No clouds, no stars. Figures in the distance. An open field with blue flowers bending to a howling wind. A powerful stench of ammonia stinging my nostrils. Something to my immediate left, ripping the car door straight off the hinges.
Blink. Running. Ruins of a town. It seemed familiar, but there was barely anything left. My leg was bleeding. I was being followed. No matter where I turned, or where I ran, I seemed to end up at the same intersection.
Blink. A three-story building, brimming with life. Glimpses of arm-long antennae through the broken windows. Clickety-clack of bursting wings tapping against crumbling concrete. A loud warning shriek as something rubs its legs together; a call for prey.
Blink. Hiding in a tipped-over trash container. The rain has stopped in mid-air. Raindrops held in indefinite suspension. I suck water drops out of the air to quench my thirst. My hands are shaking from the blood loss.
Countless little images. Some in order, some not. I have no idea how much time passed. In the moment, it must’ve been much longer than I can remember. Days. Weeks, even. There’s no way to tell.
Blink. Walking through a barren field. It feels like walking through a dead forest, but there are no trees. Only those willingly impaled and wailing.
Blink. An abandoned booth by a broken highway. A sign offers phone calls, in exchange for “real teeth”. There are six sizes of pliers hanging on a wall within. All are bloodied – even the small ones.
Blink. The church that had burned down the night before had reappeared. The people inside, too. They couldn’t leave. Tonight, they would burn again.
Somewhere in this nightmarish puzzle-pieced fragment of nothing, there was a constant drive in me to get away. To get out. I knew that if I’d gotten there, I could get back home again. I just had no idea how. Maybe finding the kid. Asking. Begging. Something.
The last fragment of memory from that space was being cornered in a cellar. They were banging on the door. I’d tipped over a wardrobe to keep them out, but they weren’t going to stop. They were never going to stop. I couldn’t let them kill me again – not like that.
One of the Changed ones were coming. I don’t know what that means, or how I know the name, but I knew of it. There was a mirror, and I could see the signs. It stepped out. Seven feet tall, black as night. Elongated arms and neck. Barely a body at all – just a void space vaguely shaped like the remnants of a person.
Except this one felt… familiar. It was the first one to speak.
“H E L L O.”
Blink. Running. A cold hand. If I squeezed too hard, my fingers went straight through it. I had to keep up. He was showing me something.
Blink. They were flooding over the school bus, tipping it by their sheer numbers. Eruptions from the sewer grates. They were famished.
Blink. An open field. Sunflowers facing me, no matter where I turn. It’s not far.
Blink. I look back, as I’m pushed over the edge. He looks just like the rest of them. They aren’t angered by his betrayal.
They feel nothing, as I fall.
In February of 2017, I was found by the side of the road. I’d been gone for months. My car was too. I came back with nothing but the clothes on my back and countless scars. I’ve been told that I didn’t make any sense at first; I was just rambling nonsense. Or maybe it just sounded like nonsense to these people.
Over time, I forgot more and more of these fragmented images. And the less I remember, the more I can move on. Still, I’ve written them down over time, and they paint an ugly, insane picture of what I’d been going through. Some of which I, myself, have a hard time believing. Then again, I know myself well enough to see that there’s no point in lying.
I haven’t seen Samuel, or that strange kid ever since. I think this is all over, for now. There’s nothing left for me to give.
But even now, years later, I still wake up to that feeling at night. That there’s something wrong, or that I’m forgetting something. That there’s something near that I’m looking straight through, or past.
And every now and then, I hear the flutter of a moth’s wing, tapping against my bedroom window.
And I think I know what it wants.
It wants me to go back.
submitted by Saturdead to nosleep [link] [comments]
A couple of weekends a month, we had an all-night crew to serve passing truckers. You usually never had to do more than one shift though, and we got to make own schedules. Our boss was pretty hands-off. It was during one of those shifts, at the first week of early summer, that my life took a turn for the worse – and I didn’t even realize it.
We were used to having the occasional odd customer during those hours of the day. When this guy walked in, I didn’t know what to think. He was about 6’2, bald, and pale as chalk. He wore this worn-out t-shirt that looked like it’d been on fire. With every step, he dragged his feet, and collapsed in one of our booths, seemingly exhausted.
I looked back at the chef, and he just shrugged. Guy wasn’t hurting anyone, but he didn’t look like he was all there. But a job’s a job, so I went up to him.
“You alright there?” I asked.
He looked up at me like I was speaking a foreign language, then sunk his head back down, gently shaking it.
“Nah,” he said. “I, uh… I don’t think I am.”
He had this voice on the knife’s edge between a hysterical laugh and a howling cry. He was trembling.
“You need me to call someone?”
“Call?”
“Yeah, call someone.”
“How?”
I didn’t understand the question. I figured he was coming down from some kind of binge, and I wasn’t about to take any chances. I asked the chef to get me a side of bacon to keep the guy calm while I called the police.
As I slid the plate over to him, he sunk his face into his hands, sobbing.
“T-thank you,” he cried. “I-I’m… please…”
I sat down across from him, instinctively reaching out to grab his hand. He let me. Even at a light touch, I could feel the scars on his palm and fingertips. Whatever’d happened to him, it must’ve been awful.
“I can’t go back,” he sniffled. “Don’t make me go back. I can’t. Please, I can’t.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s okay,” I smiled. “You’re safe here.”
“Can you help me?” he asked. “Can you keep him out?”
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” I nodded. “Just eat up. It’s okay.”
His fingers trembled as he tentatively bit off a piece of bacon. His teeth were black, and he flinched.
“I need time,” he said. “I need time to run.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “We’ve called for help.”
“I just… I just need time.”
We just sat there for a while. He calmed his breathing but kept staring out the window. I could tell he was looking for something – or someone. All I could see was a road and a handful of moths. We sat there for some time, in silence, as he carefully nibbled on the slices of maple bacon.
As two police officers entered the diner, he got up from his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of scrunched-up trash. A couple of singles, a plastic card, dirt, and something resembling animal bones. He tried to straighten out the bills, pushing them into my hands along with the laminated card.
“Just… I need time. I’ll come back. Please.”
I didn’t understand. I just nodded and accepted it. Seconds later, the officers asked him to step outside and explain the situation. I got busy taking orders from a couple of passing truckers, watching glimpses of the scene through the window. A couple of minutes later, the strange man was taken away.
My shift ended at sunrise. I dragged myself to my car with a yawn, shuffling around my pockets for the keys. I hadn’t thought much about the items he’d handed me, but I took a closer look. I’d thrown away the animal bones and dirt, but there were a couple of dollar bills and that laminated card left. I checked the card first.
It looked like some kind of bookmark. On one side it was completely white, and on the other side there were dried blue flower petals arranged in a spiral. Kinda reminded me of a sunflower. And finally, there were the dollar bills.
I didn’t pay much attention to these at first. Just a couple of singles. But after a closer look, I noticed something unusual. There was a man on the bill that I didn’t recognize. It took me a couple of google searches to realize that this man was Walter Mondale – the man who’d lost to Ronald Reagan’s second run for president back in ’84. Why was this man on a one-dollar bill?
Before heading to bed, I put the items down on my nightstand. In a moment of silent wonder, I looked out the window. What had that man been looking for? What’d he been running from?
There was nothing out there.
Just a couple of moths.
Waking up the next morning, I had a full day off. I spent it cleaning my apartment, watching movies, having dinner with a couple of friends, and ending the night with a couple of drinks at the pub down on the corner. No binge or anything, just got a bit boozy. I was still gonna be in bed by midnight.
I took the scenic route home; a long walk. All the way down main street, past the lake. I took a shortcut through the park by the final stretch, speeding up a bit. That place was trouble.
As I hurried by the fountain, I spotted someone in the distance. A shrouded figure at the edge of the streetlights. I stopped to observe for a second, but as I did, the lights flickered. Coming back on, the figure was gone.
I chalked it up to imagination. I was a bit drunk, after all. Besides – it was small, like a child. What the hell would a kid be doing out at this hour?
A couple of days passed. I didn’t notice anything unusual, but I kept coming back to that distressing feeling of missing something important. Looking back at it now, I just feel dumb. He was there all along. Outside the supermarket. In the parking lot. Off the highway. Hell, he was outside my window at night sometimes, but just too short for me to spot.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
It wasn’t until one morning when I was driving to work that I got a clear view of him. I was crossing a four-way street, taking a sharp left turn, when I had to throw myself on the breaks. There was a kid in the middle of the street.
I hadn’t seen him that clearly before. He was probably around 6, maybe 7 years old. Wearing a plain black shirt and a pair of light blue canvas pants. Short black hair, dark eyes, and no shoes. That particular detail stuck with me. No shoes? Why?
I almost lost control, but I was lucky. There wasn’t much traffic, and I managed to stop further down the road. There were black lines in the pavement from my screeching tires swerving back and forth. Regaining my composure, I looked in the rear-view mirror.
The kid was gone.
But that was just the start.
I’d spot him every now and then. Looking out the window at work. At the gas station. A passing face in the crowd when shopping for groceries. Every now and then, something would pull on my attention, forcing me to whip my head around, looking for the source of that ill feeling crawling up my spine. Sometimes I saw him. And even worse – sometimes I didn’t.
I remember lying awake at night, hearing moths tap against my window. There was nothing else. Nothing outside. I patrolled my apartment six times, checking every window. I’d looked everywhere, and there was no reason for me to feel the way I did. I was growing paranoid.
And yet, in the morning, my front door was unlocked, and slightly open.
It all came to a head one afternoon when I was out on my smoke break. I’d barely slept for the past three nights, and you could kinda tell I was having a bad day. As I stood there, leaning against the side door of the diner, I see the kid again. This time just across the road, maybe 50 feet or so away. I’d had enough. This had to end.
I was furious. I stormed forward, calling him out with every slur and curse I could think of. I was psyching myself up. I was in the right, and I refused to be harassed anymore – kid or not. Didn’t matter. I crossed the road, barely dodging a speeding jeep, and met him face-to-face.
“What the hell do you want?!” I’d yell. “Why are you following me?!”
He was completely expressionless. He didn’t even flinch, no matter how much I pointed or screamed. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, and he didn’t even blink. He just stared at me, like a porcelain doll head on a swivel.
I wasn’t thinking about the bystanders though. A couple of middle-aged men stepped up, asking in no kind terms what the hell was wrong with me. I was held back and restrained. Someone called the police. Someone else called my manager – I’d forgotten to take off my apron, so they could see the diner logo. A couple of people filmed it. One of the videos got like 120k views in a day before it fell off the map. I still see it as a react gif sometimes.
It was a disaster. After a couple of officers came by to talk to me, he’d just disappeared into thin air. The officers took me down to the station – not to detain me, but to get me away from the heated crowd. That car ride downtown sobered me up to what the hell was going on. I was being stalked by this kid, but there wasn’t a living soul out there that would believe me.
Well, maybe one.
Maybe.
I was asked a couple of questions and released within about half an hour. They told me to go home and sleep this whole thing off. That wouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t have a job to go back to anyway, according to the (many) texts I’d gotten. I had all the goddamn time in the world.
I was just about to leave when something came to mind. The two officers who’d picked me up were still waiting by their car when I turned back to them.
“Sorry, you picked up the guy I called in about at the diner, right?” I asked.
“Sure did.”
“You got any idea what happened to him?”
The two looked at one another for a moment, shrugged, and turned to me.
“Didn’t have any ID and gave a fake name. I think they took him to psych.”
“Psych?”
“Well, he was saying some, uh… strange things. There were interviews with a, uh…”
The two quieted down and flashed me a smile.
“There’s not that much we can say.”
Coming home, I decided to get to the root of this. It didn’t take me that long to find the place where the guy’d been taken; there aren’t a lot of mental health facilities in this part of the country. Especially facilities that accept involuntary subjects.
But my eyes kept drifting back to the strange dollar bills he’d given me, resting neatly on my nightstand. They were so detailed. A bit old, sure, but that only made them seem more genuine. What the hell was he doing with a handful of clearly fake dollar bills? Like, what’s the purpose? There had to be a purpose.
That unnerved me.
I managed to arrange a meeting. It wasn’t easy, and I think a lot of it boiled down to the police having no idea what could make this guy talk. For some reason, he kept providing them with false information. Maybe a familiar face, for one reason or another, might make him talk.
Just a couple of days later, I was putting my items in a metal bowl on the second floor at a mental health institute in the next town over. I asked one of the nurses if I could keep one of my dollar bills. Apparently, that was okay.
I was shuffled through a couple of locked doors and escorted to an off-white side-room. No décor, no locks. The guy was already there.
He’d been dressed down into these neutral eggshell-white garbs. It was strange seeing him in a lit-up room like this. I didn’t know what to expect.
Getting a closer look at him, he was probably in his 50’s. It’d been hard to tell earlier. I couldn’t get over just how pale he was; it was almost a complete lack of pigment. It looked sickly. His thin arms didn’t help – he looked malnourished. And yet, he was smiling.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello to you too,” I smiled. “You doing okay?”
“I’m… I’m pretty good,” he nodded. “Thank you.”
I sat down across from him and took out the dollar bill he’d given me.
“I wanted to ask you about this.”
“For the bacon,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, was that not enough?”
“No, it’s…”
I took a moment to compose myself. I had too many questions.
He sighed, took the bill, and looked it over. Looking back at me, I could tell there was something painful stirring in his mind. His smile slowly faded.
“Sorry,” he said. “I try to forget sometimes. It’s easier than making sense of it.”
“Let’s start with something simple,” I nodded. “Like… your name. Where you’re from.”
“Those things are pretty far from simple.”
He was looking straight through me; his eyes sinking back to deeper, more uncomfortable thoughts.
His name was Samuel, and he was born around these parts in back in the 1970’s. He’d worked as a telecommunications specialist out of St. Cloud back in the 90's. He had a wife, three children, and a four-bedroom house.
“But it… that was all before, see?” he explained. “Then it all just…”
“Just what?” I asked. “What happened?”
He looked at me, opening and closing his mouth, looking for the right words to come out. Nothing happened. He shook his head, trying again.
“It started with the street preachers,” he said. “Hundreds of them, marching on every city. All saying the same doomsday shit as always. World was dying. All coming to an end.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that.”
“Then there were storms,” he continued without skipping a beat. “Some would last for weeks. Others longer. Entire cities would be flooded or torn apart. Earthquakes causing monster waves along the east coast, sending shockwaves all the way to mainland Europe. Then, Yellowstone.”
“Yellowstone?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Lights out.”
Samuel was painting this apocalyptic vision of a world undone. Catastrophe after catastrophe. Hooded people marching the streets, screaming for the mercy of a mad god. But there was more to it.
“Then things stopped making sense. It’s as if the rules changed,” he continued. “Roads would stop leading home. Trees would change color. People turned twisted and corrupted. Like… one of our neighbors couldn’t eat anything but gunpowder. There was a woman just down the street who tried to kill anyone wearing glasses. It was… pandemonium.”
I didn’t say anything. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, but he was trying his best to keep his rambling coherent.
“The plants died. Trees too. The only thing that could grow in that environment were these twisted blue things that popped up out of nowhere. But people… people are what got twisted the most.”
He told me of these towering 7-foot-tall humanoid creatures that roamed the forests. Black as night – not even reflecting light. Arms reaching all the way to their knees. Elongated, inhuman things that all used to be someone he knew.
“The doomsayers all said the same thing,” he continued. “That God was a scared little boy, and that he was dying. Everything that was happening was just an expression of that ceaseless, bottomless, existential grief.”
Samuel looked back and forth, finally burying his face in his hands.
“It all broke down. Roads stopped leading anywhere. No power. No water. Julie changed. Ollie changed. Tobie made himself a mask and wandered off into the woods. Ira just… disappeared. And for… years? Has it been years? It’s just been me.”
“But you’re here, now,” I said. “And what you’re describing, it… it didn’t happen.”
“It happened,” he insisted. “Just not… here. But here.”
He tapped his finger on the single dollar bill.
“Somewhere, somehow, I must’ve taken a wrong turn. I slipped through something broken, and now I’m here. And… and he’s coming to bring me back. He doesn’t want anyone to leave.”
“Who?”
“Just! Just…” he chuckled. “Just a sad little boy who’s been told he’s going to die.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just sat with him for a while, holding his hand.
Before I left, Samuel got up from his chair. He looked at me, forcing himself to smile.
“If I go back, I’ll try not to… to be like them. I’ll try. And… and I’ll be the one to say something.”
He let out a painful little laugh, shaking his head.
“Maybe just a… hello.”
I left that day with more questions than answers. I couldn’t picture the world he’d lived through. Then again, how could it be true? None of it had happened. But what was he gaining from lying about it?
That was the last time I saw Samuel. A few days later, he went missing, as if he’d disappeared into thin air. I didn’t know what to think of it. There was nothing on the cameras – no one entering or leaving the building. No quick escapes, no clever plans. He’d just walked into his room and disappeared. Nothing left but a couple of moths fluttering about.
And for a while, that was it. That was the end of the story. I got busy looking for a new job, and all the little items given to me by Samuel was put away into a little box in my glove compartment. Life soldiered on, and no matter how many questions I had, there was no one around to answer them. Even the strange kid that’d been following me was, seemingly, gone.
A couple of months later, I was driving home from a friend’s place. I stopped at a four-way street, waiting for a couple of trucks to pass, when there was a knock on the passenger side window. I almost choked on my own spit. Scared me half to death.
Looking out, I could see that kid again. I hadn’t seen him for some time, and I quickly bounced between curiosity and downright anger.
“What do you want?” I yelled out.
There was no response. Instead, the door just opened. It’d been locked. As he opened the door, he pointed to the glove box.
“You want his things?” I asked. “Is that it?”
He nodded. I wanted to lash out, but there was something telling me I shouldn’t. Instead, I reached over, opened the glove compartment, and pointed to the box.
“Just take it and leave me alone,” I said. “Get it over with.”
He reached in and grabbed the box. So much effort for a couple of mementos. I turned my head back to face the road. The kid backed out. But of course, I had to get the last word in.
“Not even a thank you, huh?”
That made him pause. He looked at me, tilting his head. As he opened his mouth to speak, a moth fluttered out. Then another. And another.
Then – darkness.
What happened next is hard to describe. My memory of it is fragmented. It’s like trying to watch a buffering video, where long stretches of it are just nothing – but you know something was supposed to happen in-between.
Blink. I was sitting in my car. There was a dark blue sky. No clouds, no stars. Figures in the distance. An open field with blue flowers bending to a howling wind. A powerful stench of ammonia stinging my nostrils. Something to my immediate left, ripping the car door straight off the hinges.
Blink. Running. Ruins of a town. It seemed familiar, but there was barely anything left. My leg was bleeding. I was being followed. No matter where I turned, or where I ran, I seemed to end up at the same intersection.
Blink. A three-story building, brimming with life. Glimpses of arm-long antennae through the broken windows. Clickety-clack of bursting wings tapping against crumbling concrete. A loud warning shriek as something rubs its legs together; a call for prey.
Blink. Hiding in a tipped-over trash container. The rain has stopped in mid-air. Raindrops held in indefinite suspension. I suck water drops out of the air to quench my thirst. My hands are shaking from the blood loss.
Countless little images. Some in order, some not. I have no idea how much time passed. In the moment, it must’ve been much longer than I can remember. Days. Weeks, even. There’s no way to tell.
Blink. Walking through a barren field. It feels like walking through a dead forest, but there are no trees. Only those willingly impaled and wailing.
Blink. An abandoned booth by a broken highway. A sign offers phone calls, in exchange for “real teeth”. There are six sizes of pliers hanging on a wall within. All are bloodied – even the small ones.
Blink. The church that had burned down the night before had reappeared. The people inside, too. They couldn’t leave. Tonight, they would burn again.
Somewhere in this nightmarish puzzle-pieced fragment of nothing, there was a constant drive in me to get away. To get out. I knew that if I’d gotten there, I could get back home again. I just had no idea how. Maybe finding the kid. Asking. Begging. Something.
The last fragment of memory from that space was being cornered in a cellar. They were banging on the door. I’d tipped over a wardrobe to keep them out, but they weren’t going to stop. They were never going to stop. I couldn’t let them kill me again – not like that.
One of the Changed ones were coming. I don’t know what that means, or how I know the name, but I knew of it. There was a mirror, and I could see the signs. It stepped out. Seven feet tall, black as night. Elongated arms and neck. Barely a body at all – just a void space vaguely shaped like the remnants of a person.
Except this one felt… familiar. It was the first one to speak.
“H E L L O.”
Blink. Running. A cold hand. If I squeezed too hard, my fingers went straight through it. I had to keep up. He was showing me something.
Blink. They were flooding over the school bus, tipping it by their sheer numbers. Eruptions from the sewer grates. They were famished.
Blink. An open field. Sunflowers facing me, no matter where I turn. It’s not far.
Blink. I look back, as I’m pushed over the edge. He looks just like the rest of them. They aren’t angered by his betrayal.
They feel nothing, as I fall.
In February of 2017, I was found by the side of the road. I’d been gone for months. My car was too. I came back with nothing but the clothes on my back and countless scars. I’ve been told that I didn’t make any sense at first; I was just rambling nonsense. Or maybe it just sounded like nonsense to these people.
Over time, I forgot more and more of these fragmented images. And the less I remember, the more I can move on. Still, I’ve written them down over time, and they paint an ugly, insane picture of what I’d been going through. Some of which I, myself, have a hard time believing. Then again, I know myself well enough to see that there’s no point in lying.
I haven’t seen Samuel, or that strange kid ever since. I think this is all over, for now. There’s nothing left for me to give.
But even now, years later, I still wake up to that feeling at night. That there’s something wrong, or that I’m forgetting something. That there’s something near that I’m looking straight through, or past.
And every now and then, I hear the flutter of a moth’s wing, tapping against my bedroom window.
And I think I know what it wants.
It wants me to go back.
2024.05.18 22:46 SamMorrisHorror Them Devils Part 2
Scott Masterson had first met Scarlett at a rooftop party in downtown Dallas. Their age and the time of year were both in late springtime, them in their mid twenties and the date in early May. He had on a sharp yet breezy blazer and she astonished in a thigh length sleeveless blue dress.
“Oh hey Scott I don’t believe you two have met…” his then happily married friend had remarked with a slow swinging open hand toward her.
“Scott Masterson…reluctant friend to this knucklehead” he said with a tight lipped grin, trying not to be so obvious with his instant rapture.
“Scarlett…a pleasure…”
Her hand was so delicate to Scott’s touch. They locked eyes. It was like looking back through centuries of connection, endless days of laying in the sun next to the Seine River, or rising to Hollywood fame in the 1940’s and only having each other who would understand the glory and the pain of it all, or generations of quiet, simple country love that would bear such beautiful, happy children that would go on to raise beautiful, happy children, all with their dark blue eyes. Yes, the memories of every love story since the beginning of time was swirling right there in Scarlett’s irises. Scott had to catch himself before he stared embarrassingly too long.
“Sorry Scottie here doesn’t get out often” his friend quipped, which Scott appreciated actually, it helped him snap back to professionalism.
“Well I don’t either…at least I prefer not to.” Scarlett’s words flowed through the air like a flock of rose petals.
“Hey, kindred spirits.” Scott was really sensing a rising energy out of her, they had barely broken eye contact.
“Well, I’ll let you two have at it, I got a wife around here somewhere. Hey…Scott and Scarlett…not bad, not bad.” His friend exited stage right with a sly chuckle.
“Nice guy…so…what are you drinking, Scarlett?” Scott looked around for the emptiest corner of the rooftop bar, hoping to find a nice place for them to be able to hear each other. This night had just become something.
“That depends, Scott…what do you like?”
Oh man.
Well, as you can expect, the evening blossomed into a beautiful, long winded conversation that etched a long list of similarities between the two. They both lived in the city, had never married, and had dreamed of stable, simpler lives far away from tall buildings and busy streets. The next morning Scott awoke in her arms, which warmed much deeper than just his skin. He could feel her soothing his very identity, his future, everything. Her arms were tailor made to fit his very soul, and he had never felt more safe and at home.
“Mmm…you can stay right here…” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“I will…I will”
They both fell back asleep, into a dream that wouldn’t end upon waking.
Two years passed and suddenly they lived that simple backwoods life, way out where acres of land far out-populated the few and far between people. They took a lovely home, which happily looked over a long backyard, right up to a lively yet mostly undisturbed river. Their only neighbor within a mile was an older ranch worker named Charles, who rarely made himself perceivable. Days were spent way on into town where they both had offices. They didn’t mind the commute. Nights were spent mostly like this night, cuddled outside near a lovely little fire, with a slowly shrinking amount of wine sitting between them. Enjoying their Kingdom. Tonight, however, would prove to be a special night, for many reasons, all unexpected.
“Honey, I’ve been thinking…” Scott began, sitting up and opening his hands to the warmth of the fire.
“Oh?” Scarlett also sat up, eyes widening.
“So look, Scarlett, the last two years have been the best of my life. An absolute dream…”
She held her breath, her focus darting between his eyes and mouth.
“Yeah?”
“We have everything we ever want out here. But…what if there’s more?”
“More?” She had envisioned this very conversation hundreds of times.
“Our dreams have come true, but what if we…made some new dreams?” Scott turned and embedded his eyes into hers. He burst into a big smile.
“Scott…I thought…”
“Nevermind what I said” he cut her off, which he always made a point to never do, but this was a good exception.
“I’m ready, Scarlett…let’s have a family.”
“Ohhhh Scott, oh Scott”
They hugged tight enough to where it hurt.
“Well, in that case, we may need to open another bottle.” She said playfully, bouncing her eyebrows twice.
“Excellent. I’ll be right up. I’ll put this fire out and then start yours up.”
“Oh stop!” She bounded away girlishly, up the snowy back steps and into the house.
Scott let out a big sigh that he could see in the cold air and sat back in his chair, taking in his decision. He really was ready. He had secretly been keeping a long list of names that he liked and that he thought would work in front of Masterson. Especially little girl names. He stared into the campfire flames, getting lost imagining the three of them sitting right here, a little girl resting securely in Scarlett’s arms, as Scott had found himself, and stayed within these past two years.
Suddenly his trance was broken when, from the road in front of their house, came the sound of a vehicle approaching at high speed. Scott snapped his head back toward the house to get a better listen. He could see, around the house and through the trees, a large truck barreling down the country road, its headlights racing and bouncing with intensity. In an instant, it had passed up the road and out of sight.
“Huh?”
Soon, after a moment of silence, another sound echoed into the night. This sound rattled Scott to the bone and tore all that was right in his world into pieces. A sharp, bellowing squeal. His eyes shot over to his neighbors house, which was about a tenth of a mile to his right but still had a couple dim lights on that he could see. The shriek seemed to come from there.
Then, more squeals. It was hellish. More than animal but not quite human. Scott stood up. He heard crashing and tearing and further destruction coming from Charles’ house.
“Scarlett!! Scarlett!” He yelled toward his house, where he looked and could see her silhouette behind the curtains at the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to hear him.
He turned back toward his neighbors. The chaos had gone quiet. Not a half a moment after, though, he heard something big barreling through the trees as fast as that truck had been sprinting. Running, running furiously between the two houses. Searching, hunting. Scott was taken aback so hard that his heel had caught the edge of the fire pit, throwing him down only inches away from severe burns. He had knocked his head in the whiplash, making him groan and take a moment to regain his bearings.
“SCARLETT!!!!”
He screamed out toward his home as he sat up, rubbing a quickly rising bump on the back of his head. He heard a loud breaching on the side of his house. The patio door. No. No. Then, all hell broke loose. Scarlett started wailing and crying and he could hear crashes of plates and glasses and deep guttural roars coming from the kitchen inside. Shadows danced in a frenzy from the curtained windows. Sounds of instinctual survival seemed to be thrown from Scarlett inside. Sounds of defeat. Sounds of agony. Sounds of insanity. Scott sprang to his feet, his equilibrium being more damaged than he realized after his fall. He had to catch his hand on a chair to stabilize himself. Scarlett’s symphony of pain had gone quiet. Soon after something burst back out the patio door again and off in the same direction as that truck before.
Scott struggled back up to the house, slowly climbing the wintered, crunching stairs that led to the patio. He no longer yelled for Scarlett. In fact, the only thing that came to his senses was the sound of his own heavy breathing. Everything else had been turned off, save for a heavy and sudden dread that he had prayed he would never feel. He came to the side of his house where indeed the patio door had been busted and forced open. It laid inside the kitchen, its hinges snapped like toothpicks. Scott, with eyes wide and twitching, slowly entered his home and looked into the kitchen.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t even change his breathing. He didn’t blink. He just got a good long look at what laid before him.
Everything was broken. The fridge was on its side, the door hanging open and food and drink scattered all over the floor. The table was upended, its legs to the ceiling. A chair was resting on the counter, possibly having been thrown in defense. And Scarlett. Oh Scarlett. She…was…everywhere. She was all over the floor. She was sprayed against the walls. She was stuck to the window. She was in the sink.
Scott gently walked through the carnal mess and sabotage of his world. Long ago he had known exactly what he would do if something anywhere near this bad were to happen to him. He politely stumbled through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and lowered a fire safe from the top rack. He unlocked it with a passcode. 511, after that warm May date when he had first met Scarlett. In the safe was a Sig Sauer P320 handgun. Scott took it out, along with a box of bullets, loaded one into the gun, put the safe back on its rack, and walked out of the closet, sitting on his bed. Their bed. Where they should’ve been laying right at this very moment, working toward a happy future. Where he would’ve kissed her forehead and put a hand on her growing midsection. Where they would have awoken on Christmas morning to the sound of children who were way too excited to remain asleep. Where they would’ve grown old. Where they would’ve smiled at each other through wrinkles, satisfied with all the love they shared and passed on to the next generations. Where they would’ve held each other in deep peace as they finally fell asleep to this world.
“I will…I will”
In one quick motion Scott pulled back the hammer and stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his Governor and blew himself away, far away, right back into Scarlett’s loving arms.
Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett quickly yet stealthily made his way back to his Uncle’s house. He hugged the sides of the dark country road, keeping his eyes and ears wide open as to notice any sounds pertaining to the event that he had just witnessed there in the field next to the huge blaze. His only thought was Uncle Chuck. His house was right on the warpath of that horrible thing and Smallmouth had to go to him and make sure he was safe. He dared not go back to his truck, which would bring a lot of unwanted attention. No, Smallmouth walked and walked and finally saw the lights of his Uncle’s house. He carefully approached the front door from the shadowed driveway. Suddenly it occurred to Smallmouth that something was very wrong here. The door was busted in, having been plowed through by something very large and very strong.
“No…no…no”
Smallmouth slowly entered the house. The kitchen and living room were a disaster, chairs and tables and bottles strewn about and shattered. Bloody hoof-prints covered the floors, each of them the size of dinner plates. Smallmouth heard no noise. He felt himself well with tears, his nose a faucet that he began to sniff up as he worked his way through to his Uncle’s room, the door there also being broken in. A small whine growing in his throat, Smallmouth peaked into his uncles bedroom.
It was all in tatters. The bed had been attacked and shredded, the mattress being ripped up and thrown about as if it were made of cotton candy. More bloody hoof-prints were painted all over the brown carpet. Smallmouth trembled and put a hand up to his wet face. He didn’t see a way that his Uncle was anywhere near alive, knowing what he knew about the monster that had been in this house.
Smallmouth slowly walked to the living room, to the only little table that had been untouched in the attack. It was almost as if the bottle of whiskey teleported into his hand from the overturned cabinet, unopened. He fixed that real quick.
Soon he was several pulls deep of the only thing in the world that he knew would make him feel better, even if only for a few hours. He found his pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and lit one up, although he was indoors. What did it matter? He sat in a chair that he had turned right side up and set the bottle on the table and looked out the back window into the pitch black. He cried for his Uncle and he cried for the world. He cried for himself. He cried for broken promises and his own weakness. He drank and drank until his vision shook from right to left everywhere he looked. At first he didn’t even notice the figures on the back porch. Then his vibrating focus did pick up on them, but by then it was too late. It was so dark out there but in their outlines he could see they wore long robes and hoods.
“HA!! COME AND GET ME! HAHA!! YOU COME AND YOU GET ME!!” Smallmouth boasted with a delusional amount of courage.
A creak escaped from the kitchen and he drunkenly slung his head over toward it. Three more figures stood there. Or was it just one? Smallmouth was none the wiser. All at once the hooded intruders from both inside and outside began to chant a strange, twisted rhyme in strikingly low and dissonant harmony:
“A sliver…of liver…goes down…with a shiver… …and gives…your gullet…to gall… …but drink…the Cider…that drowns…the Spider… …and you…will be free…of it all… …so tighten the grip…that loosens your lips… …O raise…the bottle…of brown… …and wake tomorrow…to find…in sorrow… …ANOTHER…SPIDER…TO…DROWN”
Smallmouth groaned at them in dissatisfaction and turned his bottle up again and began to chug the whiskey. As he did they repeated the chant except this time it was louder and closer. By the time Smallmouth had finished his bottle he was quickly losing consciousness. This wasn’t just whiskey. As he closed his eyes he felt hands grabbing him from all sides.
Smallmouth pulled open his sticky eyelids. His head felt like someone had bowled a strike into it. Wind froze his face. The smell of sickly, wet iron stung his nostrils. His vantage was higher than usual. Way higher. He was looking out into another field, but from easily ten feet up. He saw an old church, formerly painted white but now a flaky pale-beige. He heard the friction of a quick pull of rope below him, matched with a slight, tight pain at his feet. He looked down. A red-robed figure was fastening him against a wooden structure of some kind. His feet sat on a small flat platform perpendicular to a post that went from the ground up past smallmouths head. He couldn’t move his arms, so he quickly shot his eyes side to side. They were also tied to another horizontal post. A cross. He was being tied to a crude wooden cross. His shirt had been removed, exposing a hairy, overweight belly. Smallmouth tried to speak, but all that came out was a slow, unintelligible grumble. He was still drunk. No, this was more than that. He was under the influence of something strong and absolutely inhibitive. He wallowed again, and took in a deep breath. The smell of iron once again hit his nose. He looked down at himself. He was covered in a thick, red liquid. That wasn’t just the smell of iron. He had been splashed full body with blood.
“Now now, young servant…” the figure at his feet had finished his task and took a couple of steps out to admire his own handiwork.
“Ahh…perfect. The picture of martyrdom. Yes, you will always be remembered, Brother Bassett. You are to be the first Saint of The New Bible.” He opened his arms in his declaration.
Smallmouth looked up into the cold night sky. The moon shown down, giving everything a midnight spotlight. It was a gorgeous waxing gibbous, big and bright but not quite full. Yes, he was in a great big snowy field that housed an old worn down church. From the windows of the church he saw candles glowing, showing dark heads and shoulders looking out to him, also covered in loose hoods, hiding faces. He was hanging on a cross about one hundred feet from the old church. In front of the cross was a partially covered pit, a couple of two by fours supporting double armfuls of branches and dead leaves.
The figure at the base of the cross put his arms back to his side. He was still looking right at the drugged Smallmouth’s dumbstruck face. Even with a veiled mouth you could hear the twisted smile in his voice.
“Tonight you will help us finally defeat this legion, Smallmouth. You see, it may have the evil spirits within it, but at its core, it is still an owned animal. An animal that knows its Master very well. An animal that will remember the smell of its Master. You, my friend, are covered in its Master right now. And you are hanging on a cross, the symbol of this brute’s most hated enemy. But take heart, young Brother. Before you is our pit of spears. Yes you will attract the beast, but our Divine plan will intercept it and the beast will fall and be pierced. And then, oh dear brother, you will forever be immortalized. You will be purified in fire by the hands of your church brethren. Out of your screams and into the smoke the iniquities of all will be released. We will go on to preach your good example and your sainthood forever and ever.”
Smallmouth began to drool and hum pathetically. He could hear and understand the words of the robed man but he couldn’t fight back. His body was useless, limp inside its rope confines. All he could do now is think, and watch, and wait, and dread his fate.
The figure turned away from him, walking over near the pit and gathering up a bundle of brambles and throwing them over the last open area, covering it completely. He then crunched through the snow over to the front door of the old church, groaning open the door. He stood at the dark doorway for a few seconds in silence, and then began to make a noise. An over exaggerated pig squealing noise, high pitched and infuriating. Soon after other voices from inside the church began to do the same, their wailing echoing out of the building and all across the field, loudly signaling, calling out. It may as well have been a dinner bell. Not a half minute after they began the distress signal it was loudly answered by a distant squall. A furious squall.
This was it. Either way it happened Smallmouth was about to die. Experience terror, and then die, and not even have the ability to put up any kind of defense. It wasn’t fair. He just slowly lifted up his head and watched out far into the moonlit, white field. He then raised his heavy head further and took a good gander at the moon and stars for the last time.
“God,” he thought to himself, still having full inner monologue yet no outer motor function, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for being what I am. I am so sorry for ending up in this place. It’s only my own fault. If it wasn’t for me being so stupid and messy and drunk and terrible then this wouldnt be happening to me.”
He began to shed tears that washed lines into the blood on his face.
“Please forgive me God. Please, please, please forgive me for all of my sins. This is it. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!” He yelled inside his own mind, hoping and trying to send his silent words as far up into heaven as they could go.
He lowered his eyes back to the ground. He looked over at the church again. The windows were empty, the candles were extinguished. Those hooded cowards were hiding from their own handmade sacrificial service. All was quiet for a long pause until a much louder, closer bleating began at the edge of the forest not even three hundred feet away from Smallmouth’s glazed over eyes. It was time, and it was too late for a miracle.
Out of the woods, slowly and heavily, stomped the massive hog. As it marched closer and closer Smallmouth could see its white, boiled over eyes and black-burnt skin. Its jaws were flying open and snapping its sharp, pocket knife-sized teeth together in an intimidating “clack”. It was now less than a hundred feet away, the dark old church to its right shoulder. It stopped, its pale glowing eyes fixed right on Smallmouth on the crude cross. It truly was a monster. It stood as tall as a man and as long as a canoe. Around its murderous mouth were stains of red, the remnants of all that it had taken from the world on this unholy night. In its clanging jaws were bits of flesh. It snorted and scowled.
Then, in a fury, it wailed that horrible squeal and started off into a dead sprint. It galloped and galloped toward Smallmouth at a high, blistering speed. It kept yawping and howling as it cut the distance from the cross down to fifty feet, forty feet, thirty, twenty. All at once it passed over the covered pit and plunged in. In his doomed, dead eyed stupor Smallmouth could hear what sounded like paint being dumped from a rooftop onto concrete. Trails of black liquid squirted and splashed up from the pit, which had been uncovered in the fall of the beast. Unbelieving, Smallmouth saw dozens of steel spear tips standing up from the dug-in ground. Right in the middle of them the beast was stuck. The sheer weight of the animal had caused the spears to pierce through its tough skin, sticking out of its back, soaked in black blood. One spear had stabbed right under the hogs chin, passing up through its jaws and out its black snout. It made agonized sounds. It roared and roared and shook the spears inside it, beginning furiously, then growing weaker and weaker within seconds. Finally, it let out one last weak little squeal, before it went still and quiet.
Smallmouth was frozen both physically by drugs and constraints and mentally by shock. His mouth hung open toward the pit of spears, his vision blurry. He took in a deep, troubled breath and let out a moan of disbelief and relief. The old church doors sprang open, and the sound of jubilation within flowed out into the night. The red robed figures flocked out of the building toward the pit, arms raised in celebration. They surrounded the hole, getting a good look at their success and their enemies defeat. Some held additional spears and began further stabbing the dead animal, causing more black blood to be shed up at them. They all yelled loudly and triumphantly. Some danced around the pit. Some skipped over to Smallmouth on the cross and danced around him, slapping his legs and spinning in circles.
Smallmouth looked on at the raucous celebration, both in utter disbelief of their trap actually working and also in turmoil. How long now until they fully execute their plan.
A taller robed man, whose voice matched the same one who spoke to Smallmouth as he tied his feet, spoke up, sounding almost happily intoxicated.
“Ahh yes my Brothers!! It is done!! We have won!!!”
They all whooped and cheered.
“Brother Norman, go into the church and bring me the small tank of fuel. Let us send our dear Saint Bassett to the Holy lands, where he will be adored for all eternity!”
They all clapped and hollered. One figure began childishly skipping away from the pit and over toward the front door of the church.
Then, it happened.
From the pit all of a sudden a great blaze erupted instantly. It stood as tall as the cross, and it burned a furious red and blue. It raged and raged, blinding Smallmouth and making him clumsily turn his face away from the heat.
All of the figures panicked, screaming and scattering away toward the church. They didn’t get far. Up from the fiery pit, dozens of long, long, black arms, adorned with six hooking claws emerged and stretched out of the flames and latched on to the legs of those trying to escape. Smallmouth heard crying and wailing from the men as the black, razor clawed-hands of the legion grabbed them and began pulling them back, into the blazes. One by one the red robed people were dragged into the flames, their clothes catching instantly. Smallmouth could see violently shaking bodies in the evil furnace. Oh, the screams. Above the tortured howling, the sound of laughing broke out. Deep, menacing laughter, hundreds of voices, echoed up into the air from the burning hole. Then, in one extinguishing squeeze, the ground swallowed the entirety of the fiery pit, leaving it completely covered in dirt, still and quiet. Soon after, and just like the pit of spears, the old church building caught in an instant and raging fire, quickly toppling the walls and dropping the steeple into its ruins. The smoke towered high in the night sky, which had just began to hint at a pale morning blue. Smallmouth hung on his cross in utter horror and surprise.
As the late evening hours glowed into early morning the smoke eventually tapered off, as Smallmouth’s drugs finally began to wear off as well. The fires of the church did garner long distance attention, though. Just as Smallmouth was able to regain control of his muscles and voice he heard emergency sirens call out into the cold morning air. Not long after, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a sheriffs truck tore into the field and toward Smallmouth on the cross. Not long after Smallmouth could feel the tied ropes being cut loose by firemen, their uniforms easily the best red clothes he had seen all night.
“What on God’s green Earth happened here son?” A bearded man with a dark hat and brown shirt and pants asked Smallmouth once he had been lowered down from the cross and sat on the ground with a shock blanket around his shoulders. The Sheriff, no doubt.
“God’s green Earth. It really is God’s, isn’t it?” Smallmouth whispered, staring out across the cold field. Then, at the very place he was staring, an old, familiar truck came barreling out of the gravel road in the woods and through the field in the steadily growing morning light. It was Uncle Chuck’s truck. It hurried over toward the other emergency vehicles, parked, the driver’s side door burst open, and Uncle Chuck came bounding out over to Smallmouth, his eyes wide and his mouth a wonderfully shocked “O”.
“JEREMY! JEREMY!!!” He basically fell on Smallmouth in a tight, warm hug. Smallmouth was caught off guard by Chuck using his real name.
His Uncle held him for several seconds and then let up, but kept his hands on Smallmouth’s shoulders.
“I thought you were dead.” Both of them said at almost the exact same time.
“I came back and your house was a mess and there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead.” Smallmouth weakly spat out.
“Well, I woke up and you were gone, son, so I walked to the ranch to get my truck. I was worried bout ya son. I came back home and the whole place had been turned upside down. Blood on the carpet. I just thought the worst. Then I tried my neighbors house. Buddy, they’re dead. Looks like some wacko murder-suicide if I ever saw one. Scott probably tried to come kill us too and wrecked the place when he found it empty. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that you are right here! You are okay Jeremy!! Ahhh Praise Jesus!!”
“It’s not that, Uncle. That isn’t what happened out here. It’s..it was a..a, uh…”
Smallmouth’s fried brain couldn’t even comprehend what he had witnessed over the past few hours. It was all a violent blur.
“Dont worry bout it son, you can tell me everything on the way to the hospital. We gotta go get you checked out and cleaned up. C’mon.” He helped Smallmouth up and they walked over to the ambulance, his Uncle’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Smallmouth would be sent home later that afternoon. It would take him and his Uncle a long time to sort through the chaos of that deadly night and rebuild their lives. But life kept on. Smallmouth would remain living with his Uncle, and would begin a job working with him down at the ranch. Together they started to attend a local church. Smallmouth never touched a drink or a drug or even a cigarette ever again, and remained steadfast in his newly revitalized faith.
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“Oh hey Scott I don’t believe you two have met…” his then happily married friend had remarked with a slow swinging open hand toward her.
“Scott Masterson…reluctant friend to this knucklehead” he said with a tight lipped grin, trying not to be so obvious with his instant rapture.
“Scarlett…a pleasure…”
Her hand was so delicate to Scott’s touch. They locked eyes. It was like looking back through centuries of connection, endless days of laying in the sun next to the Seine River, or rising to Hollywood fame in the 1940’s and only having each other who would understand the glory and the pain of it all, or generations of quiet, simple country love that would bear such beautiful, happy children that would go on to raise beautiful, happy children, all with their dark blue eyes. Yes, the memories of every love story since the beginning of time was swirling right there in Scarlett’s irises. Scott had to catch himself before he stared embarrassingly too long.
“Sorry Scottie here doesn’t get out often” his friend quipped, which Scott appreciated actually, it helped him snap back to professionalism.
“Well I don’t either…at least I prefer not to.” Scarlett’s words flowed through the air like a flock of rose petals.
“Hey, kindred spirits.” Scott was really sensing a rising energy out of her, they had barely broken eye contact.
“Well, I’ll let you two have at it, I got a wife around here somewhere. Hey…Scott and Scarlett…not bad, not bad.” His friend exited stage right with a sly chuckle.
“Nice guy…so…what are you drinking, Scarlett?” Scott looked around for the emptiest corner of the rooftop bar, hoping to find a nice place for them to be able to hear each other. This night had just become something.
“That depends, Scott…what do you like?”
Oh man.
Well, as you can expect, the evening blossomed into a beautiful, long winded conversation that etched a long list of similarities between the two. They both lived in the city, had never married, and had dreamed of stable, simpler lives far away from tall buildings and busy streets. The next morning Scott awoke in her arms, which warmed much deeper than just his skin. He could feel her soothing his very identity, his future, everything. Her arms were tailor made to fit his very soul, and he had never felt more safe and at home.
“Mmm…you can stay right here…” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“I will…I will”
They both fell back asleep, into a dream that wouldn’t end upon waking.
Two years passed and suddenly they lived that simple backwoods life, way out where acres of land far out-populated the few and far between people. They took a lovely home, which happily looked over a long backyard, right up to a lively yet mostly undisturbed river. Their only neighbor within a mile was an older ranch worker named Charles, who rarely made himself perceivable. Days were spent way on into town where they both had offices. They didn’t mind the commute. Nights were spent mostly like this night, cuddled outside near a lovely little fire, with a slowly shrinking amount of wine sitting between them. Enjoying their Kingdom. Tonight, however, would prove to be a special night, for many reasons, all unexpected.
“Honey, I’ve been thinking…” Scott began, sitting up and opening his hands to the warmth of the fire.
“Oh?” Scarlett also sat up, eyes widening.
“So look, Scarlett, the last two years have been the best of my life. An absolute dream…”
She held her breath, her focus darting between his eyes and mouth.
“Yeah?”
“We have everything we ever want out here. But…what if there’s more?”
“More?” She had envisioned this very conversation hundreds of times.
“Our dreams have come true, but what if we…made some new dreams?” Scott turned and embedded his eyes into hers. He burst into a big smile.
“Scott…I thought…”
“Nevermind what I said” he cut her off, which he always made a point to never do, but this was a good exception.
“I’m ready, Scarlett…let’s have a family.”
“Ohhhh Scott, oh Scott”
They hugged tight enough to where it hurt.
“Well, in that case, we may need to open another bottle.” She said playfully, bouncing her eyebrows twice.
“Excellent. I’ll be right up. I’ll put this fire out and then start yours up.”
“Oh stop!” She bounded away girlishly, up the snowy back steps and into the house.
Scott let out a big sigh that he could see in the cold air and sat back in his chair, taking in his decision. He really was ready. He had secretly been keeping a long list of names that he liked and that he thought would work in front of Masterson. Especially little girl names. He stared into the campfire flames, getting lost imagining the three of them sitting right here, a little girl resting securely in Scarlett’s arms, as Scott had found himself, and stayed within these past two years.
Suddenly his trance was broken when, from the road in front of their house, came the sound of a vehicle approaching at high speed. Scott snapped his head back toward the house to get a better listen. He could see, around the house and through the trees, a large truck barreling down the country road, its headlights racing and bouncing with intensity. In an instant, it had passed up the road and out of sight.
“Huh?”
Soon, after a moment of silence, another sound echoed into the night. This sound rattled Scott to the bone and tore all that was right in his world into pieces. A sharp, bellowing squeal. His eyes shot over to his neighbors house, which was about a tenth of a mile to his right but still had a couple dim lights on that he could see. The shriek seemed to come from there.
Then, more squeals. It was hellish. More than animal but not quite human. Scott stood up. He heard crashing and tearing and further destruction coming from Charles’ house.
“Scarlett!! Scarlett!” He yelled toward his house, where he looked and could see her silhouette behind the curtains at the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to hear him.
He turned back toward his neighbors. The chaos had gone quiet. Not a half a moment after, though, he heard something big barreling through the trees as fast as that truck had been sprinting. Running, running furiously between the two houses. Searching, hunting. Scott was taken aback so hard that his heel had caught the edge of the fire pit, throwing him down only inches away from severe burns. He had knocked his head in the whiplash, making him groan and take a moment to regain his bearings.
“SCARLETT!!!!”
He screamed out toward his home as he sat up, rubbing a quickly rising bump on the back of his head. He heard a loud breaching on the side of his house. The patio door. No. No. Then, all hell broke loose. Scarlett started wailing and crying and he could hear crashes of plates and glasses and deep guttural roars coming from the kitchen inside. Shadows danced in a frenzy from the curtained windows. Sounds of instinctual survival seemed to be thrown from Scarlett inside. Sounds of defeat. Sounds of agony. Sounds of insanity. Scott sprang to his feet, his equilibrium being more damaged than he realized after his fall. He had to catch his hand on a chair to stabilize himself. Scarlett’s symphony of pain had gone quiet. Soon after something burst back out the patio door again and off in the same direction as that truck before.
Scott struggled back up to the house, slowly climbing the wintered, crunching stairs that led to the patio. He no longer yelled for Scarlett. In fact, the only thing that came to his senses was the sound of his own heavy breathing. Everything else had been turned off, save for a heavy and sudden dread that he had prayed he would never feel. He came to the side of his house where indeed the patio door had been busted and forced open. It laid inside the kitchen, its hinges snapped like toothpicks. Scott, with eyes wide and twitching, slowly entered his home and looked into the kitchen.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t even change his breathing. He didn’t blink. He just got a good long look at what laid before him.
Everything was broken. The fridge was on its side, the door hanging open and food and drink scattered all over the floor. The table was upended, its legs to the ceiling. A chair was resting on the counter, possibly having been thrown in defense. And Scarlett. Oh Scarlett. She…was…everywhere. She was all over the floor. She was sprayed against the walls. She was stuck to the window. She was in the sink.
Scott gently walked through the carnal mess and sabotage of his world. Long ago he had known exactly what he would do if something anywhere near this bad were to happen to him. He politely stumbled through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and lowered a fire safe from the top rack. He unlocked it with a passcode. 511, after that warm May date when he had first met Scarlett. In the safe was a Sig Sauer P320 handgun. Scott took it out, along with a box of bullets, loaded one into the gun, put the safe back on its rack, and walked out of the closet, sitting on his bed. Their bed. Where they should’ve been laying right at this very moment, working toward a happy future. Where he would’ve kissed her forehead and put a hand on her growing midsection. Where they would have awoken on Christmas morning to the sound of children who were way too excited to remain asleep. Where they would’ve grown old. Where they would’ve smiled at each other through wrinkles, satisfied with all the love they shared and passed on to the next generations. Where they would’ve held each other in deep peace as they finally fell asleep to this world.
“I will…I will”
In one quick motion Scott pulled back the hammer and stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his Governor and blew himself away, far away, right back into Scarlett’s loving arms.
Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett quickly yet stealthily made his way back to his Uncle’s house. He hugged the sides of the dark country road, keeping his eyes and ears wide open as to notice any sounds pertaining to the event that he had just witnessed there in the field next to the huge blaze. His only thought was Uncle Chuck. His house was right on the warpath of that horrible thing and Smallmouth had to go to him and make sure he was safe. He dared not go back to his truck, which would bring a lot of unwanted attention. No, Smallmouth walked and walked and finally saw the lights of his Uncle’s house. He carefully approached the front door from the shadowed driveway. Suddenly it occurred to Smallmouth that something was very wrong here. The door was busted in, having been plowed through by something very large and very strong.
“No…no…no”
Smallmouth slowly entered the house. The kitchen and living room were a disaster, chairs and tables and bottles strewn about and shattered. Bloody hoof-prints covered the floors, each of them the size of dinner plates. Smallmouth heard no noise. He felt himself well with tears, his nose a faucet that he began to sniff up as he worked his way through to his Uncle’s room, the door there also being broken in. A small whine growing in his throat, Smallmouth peaked into his uncles bedroom.
It was all in tatters. The bed had been attacked and shredded, the mattress being ripped up and thrown about as if it were made of cotton candy. More bloody hoof-prints were painted all over the brown carpet. Smallmouth trembled and put a hand up to his wet face. He didn’t see a way that his Uncle was anywhere near alive, knowing what he knew about the monster that had been in this house.
Smallmouth slowly walked to the living room, to the only little table that had been untouched in the attack. It was almost as if the bottle of whiskey teleported into his hand from the overturned cabinet, unopened. He fixed that real quick.
Soon he was several pulls deep of the only thing in the world that he knew would make him feel better, even if only for a few hours. He found his pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and lit one up, although he was indoors. What did it matter? He sat in a chair that he had turned right side up and set the bottle on the table and looked out the back window into the pitch black. He cried for his Uncle and he cried for the world. He cried for himself. He cried for broken promises and his own weakness. He drank and drank until his vision shook from right to left everywhere he looked. At first he didn’t even notice the figures on the back porch. Then his vibrating focus did pick up on them, but by then it was too late. It was so dark out there but in their outlines he could see they wore long robes and hoods.
“HA!! COME AND GET ME! HAHA!! YOU COME AND YOU GET ME!!” Smallmouth boasted with a delusional amount of courage.
A creak escaped from the kitchen and he drunkenly slung his head over toward it. Three more figures stood there. Or was it just one? Smallmouth was none the wiser. All at once the hooded intruders from both inside and outside began to chant a strange, twisted rhyme in strikingly low and dissonant harmony:
“A sliver…of liver…goes down…with a shiver… …and gives…your gullet…to gall… …but drink…the Cider…that drowns…the Spider… …and you…will be free…of it all… …so tighten the grip…that loosens your lips… …O raise…the bottle…of brown… …and wake tomorrow…to find…in sorrow… …ANOTHER…SPIDER…TO…DROWN”
Smallmouth groaned at them in dissatisfaction and turned his bottle up again and began to chug the whiskey. As he did they repeated the chant except this time it was louder and closer. By the time Smallmouth had finished his bottle he was quickly losing consciousness. This wasn’t just whiskey. As he closed his eyes he felt hands grabbing him from all sides.
Smallmouth pulled open his sticky eyelids. His head felt like someone had bowled a strike into it. Wind froze his face. The smell of sickly, wet iron stung his nostrils. His vantage was higher than usual. Way higher. He was looking out into another field, but from easily ten feet up. He saw an old church, formerly painted white but now a flaky pale-beige. He heard the friction of a quick pull of rope below him, matched with a slight, tight pain at his feet. He looked down. A red-robed figure was fastening him against a wooden structure of some kind. His feet sat on a small flat platform perpendicular to a post that went from the ground up past smallmouths head. He couldn’t move his arms, so he quickly shot his eyes side to side. They were also tied to another horizontal post. A cross. He was being tied to a crude wooden cross. His shirt had been removed, exposing a hairy, overweight belly. Smallmouth tried to speak, but all that came out was a slow, unintelligible grumble. He was still drunk. No, this was more than that. He was under the influence of something strong and absolutely inhibitive. He wallowed again, and took in a deep breath. The smell of iron once again hit his nose. He looked down at himself. He was covered in a thick, red liquid. That wasn’t just the smell of iron. He had been splashed full body with blood.
“Now now, young servant…” the figure at his feet had finished his task and took a couple of steps out to admire his own handiwork.
“Ahh…perfect. The picture of martyrdom. Yes, you will always be remembered, Brother Bassett. You are to be the first Saint of The New Bible.” He opened his arms in his declaration.
Smallmouth looked up into the cold night sky. The moon shown down, giving everything a midnight spotlight. It was a gorgeous waxing gibbous, big and bright but not quite full. Yes, he was in a great big snowy field that housed an old worn down church. From the windows of the church he saw candles glowing, showing dark heads and shoulders looking out to him, also covered in loose hoods, hiding faces. He was hanging on a cross about one hundred feet from the old church. In front of the cross was a partially covered pit, a couple of two by fours supporting double armfuls of branches and dead leaves.
The figure at the base of the cross put his arms back to his side. He was still looking right at the drugged Smallmouth’s dumbstruck face. Even with a veiled mouth you could hear the twisted smile in his voice.
“Tonight you will help us finally defeat this legion, Smallmouth. You see, it may have the evil spirits within it, but at its core, it is still an owned animal. An animal that knows its Master very well. An animal that will remember the smell of its Master. You, my friend, are covered in its Master right now. And you are hanging on a cross, the symbol of this brute’s most hated enemy. But take heart, young Brother. Before you is our pit of spears. Yes you will attract the beast, but our Divine plan will intercept it and the beast will fall and be pierced. And then, oh dear brother, you will forever be immortalized. You will be purified in fire by the hands of your church brethren. Out of your screams and into the smoke the iniquities of all will be released. We will go on to preach your good example and your sainthood forever and ever.”
Smallmouth began to drool and hum pathetically. He could hear and understand the words of the robed man but he couldn’t fight back. His body was useless, limp inside its rope confines. All he could do now is think, and watch, and wait, and dread his fate.
The figure turned away from him, walking over near the pit and gathering up a bundle of brambles and throwing them over the last open area, covering it completely. He then crunched through the snow over to the front door of the old church, groaning open the door. He stood at the dark doorway for a few seconds in silence, and then began to make a noise. An over exaggerated pig squealing noise, high pitched and infuriating. Soon after other voices from inside the church began to do the same, their wailing echoing out of the building and all across the field, loudly signaling, calling out. It may as well have been a dinner bell. Not a half minute after they began the distress signal it was loudly answered by a distant squall. A furious squall.
This was it. Either way it happened Smallmouth was about to die. Experience terror, and then die, and not even have the ability to put up any kind of defense. It wasn’t fair. He just slowly lifted up his head and watched out far into the moonlit, white field. He then raised his heavy head further and took a good gander at the moon and stars for the last time.
“God,” he thought to himself, still having full inner monologue yet no outer motor function, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for being what I am. I am so sorry for ending up in this place. It’s only my own fault. If it wasn’t for me being so stupid and messy and drunk and terrible then this wouldnt be happening to me.”
He began to shed tears that washed lines into the blood on his face.
“Please forgive me God. Please, please, please forgive me for all of my sins. This is it. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!” He yelled inside his own mind, hoping and trying to send his silent words as far up into heaven as they could go.
He lowered his eyes back to the ground. He looked over at the church again. The windows were empty, the candles were extinguished. Those hooded cowards were hiding from their own handmade sacrificial service. All was quiet for a long pause until a much louder, closer bleating began at the edge of the forest not even three hundred feet away from Smallmouth’s glazed over eyes. It was time, and it was too late for a miracle.
Out of the woods, slowly and heavily, stomped the massive hog. As it marched closer and closer Smallmouth could see its white, boiled over eyes and black-burnt skin. Its jaws were flying open and snapping its sharp, pocket knife-sized teeth together in an intimidating “clack”. It was now less than a hundred feet away, the dark old church to its right shoulder. It stopped, its pale glowing eyes fixed right on Smallmouth on the crude cross. It truly was a monster. It stood as tall as a man and as long as a canoe. Around its murderous mouth were stains of red, the remnants of all that it had taken from the world on this unholy night. In its clanging jaws were bits of flesh. It snorted and scowled.
Then, in a fury, it wailed that horrible squeal and started off into a dead sprint. It galloped and galloped toward Smallmouth at a high, blistering speed. It kept yawping and howling as it cut the distance from the cross down to fifty feet, forty feet, thirty, twenty. All at once it passed over the covered pit and plunged in. In his doomed, dead eyed stupor Smallmouth could hear what sounded like paint being dumped from a rooftop onto concrete. Trails of black liquid squirted and splashed up from the pit, which had been uncovered in the fall of the beast. Unbelieving, Smallmouth saw dozens of steel spear tips standing up from the dug-in ground. Right in the middle of them the beast was stuck. The sheer weight of the animal had caused the spears to pierce through its tough skin, sticking out of its back, soaked in black blood. One spear had stabbed right under the hogs chin, passing up through its jaws and out its black snout. It made agonized sounds. It roared and roared and shook the spears inside it, beginning furiously, then growing weaker and weaker within seconds. Finally, it let out one last weak little squeal, before it went still and quiet.
Smallmouth was frozen both physically by drugs and constraints and mentally by shock. His mouth hung open toward the pit of spears, his vision blurry. He took in a deep, troubled breath and let out a moan of disbelief and relief. The old church doors sprang open, and the sound of jubilation within flowed out into the night. The red robed figures flocked out of the building toward the pit, arms raised in celebration. They surrounded the hole, getting a good look at their success and their enemies defeat. Some held additional spears and began further stabbing the dead animal, causing more black blood to be shed up at them. They all yelled loudly and triumphantly. Some danced around the pit. Some skipped over to Smallmouth on the cross and danced around him, slapping his legs and spinning in circles.
Smallmouth looked on at the raucous celebration, both in utter disbelief of their trap actually working and also in turmoil. How long now until they fully execute their plan.
A taller robed man, whose voice matched the same one who spoke to Smallmouth as he tied his feet, spoke up, sounding almost happily intoxicated.
“Ahh yes my Brothers!! It is done!! We have won!!!”
They all whooped and cheered.
“Brother Norman, go into the church and bring me the small tank of fuel. Let us send our dear Saint Bassett to the Holy lands, where he will be adored for all eternity!”
They all clapped and hollered. One figure began childishly skipping away from the pit and over toward the front door of the church.
Then, it happened.
From the pit all of a sudden a great blaze erupted instantly. It stood as tall as the cross, and it burned a furious red and blue. It raged and raged, blinding Smallmouth and making him clumsily turn his face away from the heat.
All of the figures panicked, screaming and scattering away toward the church. They didn’t get far. Up from the fiery pit, dozens of long, long, black arms, adorned with six hooking claws emerged and stretched out of the flames and latched on to the legs of those trying to escape. Smallmouth heard crying and wailing from the men as the black, razor clawed-hands of the legion grabbed them and began pulling them back, into the blazes. One by one the red robed people were dragged into the flames, their clothes catching instantly. Smallmouth could see violently shaking bodies in the evil furnace. Oh, the screams. Above the tortured howling, the sound of laughing broke out. Deep, menacing laughter, hundreds of voices, echoed up into the air from the burning hole. Then, in one extinguishing squeeze, the ground swallowed the entirety of the fiery pit, leaving it completely covered in dirt, still and quiet. Soon after, and just like the pit of spears, the old church building caught in an instant and raging fire, quickly toppling the walls and dropping the steeple into its ruins. The smoke towered high in the night sky, which had just began to hint at a pale morning blue. Smallmouth hung on his cross in utter horror and surprise.
As the late evening hours glowed into early morning the smoke eventually tapered off, as Smallmouth’s drugs finally began to wear off as well. The fires of the church did garner long distance attention, though. Just as Smallmouth was able to regain control of his muscles and voice he heard emergency sirens call out into the cold morning air. Not long after, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a sheriffs truck tore into the field and toward Smallmouth on the cross. Not long after Smallmouth could feel the tied ropes being cut loose by firemen, their uniforms easily the best red clothes he had seen all night.
“What on God’s green Earth happened here son?” A bearded man with a dark hat and brown shirt and pants asked Smallmouth once he had been lowered down from the cross and sat on the ground with a shock blanket around his shoulders. The Sheriff, no doubt.
“God’s green Earth. It really is God’s, isn’t it?” Smallmouth whispered, staring out across the cold field. Then, at the very place he was staring, an old, familiar truck came barreling out of the gravel road in the woods and through the field in the steadily growing morning light. It was Uncle Chuck’s truck. It hurried over toward the other emergency vehicles, parked, the driver’s side door burst open, and Uncle Chuck came bounding out over to Smallmouth, his eyes wide and his mouth a wonderfully shocked “O”.
“JEREMY! JEREMY!!!” He basically fell on Smallmouth in a tight, warm hug. Smallmouth was caught off guard by Chuck using his real name.
His Uncle held him for several seconds and then let up, but kept his hands on Smallmouth’s shoulders.
“I thought you were dead.” Both of them said at almost the exact same time.
“I came back and your house was a mess and there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead.” Smallmouth weakly spat out.
“Well, I woke up and you were gone, son, so I walked to the ranch to get my truck. I was worried bout ya son. I came back home and the whole place had been turned upside down. Blood on the carpet. I just thought the worst. Then I tried my neighbors house. Buddy, they’re dead. Looks like some wacko murder-suicide if I ever saw one. Scott probably tried to come kill us too and wrecked the place when he found it empty. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that you are right here! You are okay Jeremy!! Ahhh Praise Jesus!!”
“It’s not that, Uncle. That isn’t what happened out here. It’s..it was a..a, uh…”
Smallmouth’s fried brain couldn’t even comprehend what he had witnessed over the past few hours. It was all a violent blur.
“Dont worry bout it son, you can tell me everything on the way to the hospital. We gotta go get you checked out and cleaned up. C’mon.” He helped Smallmouth up and they walked over to the ambulance, his Uncle’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Smallmouth would be sent home later that afternoon. It would take him and his Uncle a long time to sort through the chaos of that deadly night and rebuild their lives. But life kept on. Smallmouth would remain living with his Uncle, and would begin a job working with him down at the ranch. Together they started to attend a local church. Smallmouth never touched a drink or a drug or even a cigarette ever again, and remained steadfast in his newly revitalized faith.
2024.05.18 22:16 Red_Caramels Slight renovation of a really old office
 | It was originally an office for the kitchen and laundry staff. This part of the building was built in the 60s. When an addition was built this area was no longer needed so the maintenance staff took it over, gutted the kitchen and laundry equipment, and turned it into a wood shop, metal shop, and storage. This office was full of junk and trash. The lights didn't work, and the door knob was removed. submitted by Red_Caramels to maintenance [link] [comments] I took over as supervisor recently, and decided to update a few things, make things easier for us. We have an office on the other side of the building, but it's pretty far. When we're doing wood or metal work it's a pain in the butt the times we get a call out and have to go all the way back just to get something, fill out something online, whatever... I supplied a tool cart for this area, and now we have a working computer. I built that desk, ran a data line, fixed the lights, replaced the door knob, and put mirror tint on the windows so far. I'll post again after I get more done. I like making the job work more for us, rather than have to struggle for no reason. Let me know what you think. |
2024.05.18 21:36 supersettin I want to clean, and she has preferences. AITAH?
Title. So for some context, we live in a pretty small apartment, 740 sqft.
Let me give a lay of the land: living area, dining area, kitchen are all technically in the same (biggest) room. Living area fits loveseat, sofa, TV facing. Small fridge in the corner. Dining area adjacent to sofa, seats 4. Cutaway "bar top" wall separates, dining and kitchen. Bedroom about 120 sqft.
Now for the stuff:
Loveseat cannot be used, entirely filled with items to greater than the backrest height. Half the dining table is filled with stuff. Two of the dining chairs are filled with stuff and clothes slung over them. The entire bar top (L shape that you go around and leads to kitchen) has stuff on top. Pretty much nearly every surface we could use in the kitchen is in use / has stuff. All of our cupboards are pretty much filled up. The small ottomans have stuff inside them. I open stuff atop the range or the sink because of no space. In our room, my half (third now) has a few clothes on the floor that I pick up and do laundry, 75% of her "half" of the rooms carpet has stuff or stacks of clothes. Our bedroom closet can be opened halfway because of stuff. 1/3 of the content in there is mine (including "shared" items like the vacuum)
Anyways, now for justifications.
She has long days at work in the restaurant, often 12+ hours. A lot of the BS and negativity gets absorbed with her and she tries her very best to not bring it home. But a decent amount of it spills into. So she has a habit of bringing home some cheap knick knack, or snack, or something to make her feel better as to not go crazy. Problem is, this stuff collects after a while , as you can probably tell above. She is very particular about knowing exactly where everything is and me not touching anything while she is gone. When she is home usually she pushes back. If I bring up the idea of cleaning up. She needs to be in the right headspace. This usually comes maybe once a year or biennially. Aside from that, develops strong attachments to the things she gets. Including expired food, if there was some some form of memory attached to it.
We've had many arguments and long talks over time about this , and she feels that the world is a place where everyone takes (particularly stemming from the entitlement from guests and servers she manages) and she needs a means to give something to herself. I am adding to this feeling of "people taking from her" when I propose cleaning up.
Now for my own preferences. I am relatively minimalist and get very uncomfortable when there's too much stuff around, I feel like my space is closing in on me. It's quite hard for me to move around the house, I always have to move something over if I want to eat or fix something up to eat , or sit at the couch, etc. I get very self-conscious about inviting people over (I generally just don't these days) because of Just how messy everything is. Literally our space can accommodate perhaps one guest- they could sit at couch while I'll sit at the dinner table and we can watch something or talk to each other like that. I also just generally feel like your living space is a reflection of yourself and when it's all cluttered like this It can affect your mental space.
Tl;Dr: our place is a mess. I want to clean up, but she has attachments to the things that I want to throw out. Arguments -usually- lead to putting it off another month, another year. The stuff builds.
AITAH? Thank you for reading.
submitted by supersettin to AITAH [link] [comments]
Let me give a lay of the land: living area, dining area, kitchen are all technically in the same (biggest) room. Living area fits loveseat, sofa, TV facing. Small fridge in the corner. Dining area adjacent to sofa, seats 4. Cutaway "bar top" wall separates, dining and kitchen. Bedroom about 120 sqft.
Now for the stuff:
Loveseat cannot be used, entirely filled with items to greater than the backrest height. Half the dining table is filled with stuff. Two of the dining chairs are filled with stuff and clothes slung over them. The entire bar top (L shape that you go around and leads to kitchen) has stuff on top. Pretty much nearly every surface we could use in the kitchen is in use / has stuff. All of our cupboards are pretty much filled up. The small ottomans have stuff inside them. I open stuff atop the range or the sink because of no space. In our room, my half (third now) has a few clothes on the floor that I pick up and do laundry, 75% of her "half" of the rooms carpet has stuff or stacks of clothes. Our bedroom closet can be opened halfway because of stuff. 1/3 of the content in there is mine (including "shared" items like the vacuum)
Anyways, now for justifications.
She has long days at work in the restaurant, often 12+ hours. A lot of the BS and negativity gets absorbed with her and she tries her very best to not bring it home. But a decent amount of it spills into. So she has a habit of bringing home some cheap knick knack, or snack, or something to make her feel better as to not go crazy. Problem is, this stuff collects after a while , as you can probably tell above. She is very particular about knowing exactly where everything is and me not touching anything while she is gone. When she is home usually she pushes back. If I bring up the idea of cleaning up. She needs to be in the right headspace. This usually comes maybe once a year or biennially. Aside from that, develops strong attachments to the things she gets. Including expired food, if there was some some form of memory attached to it.
We've had many arguments and long talks over time about this , and she feels that the world is a place where everyone takes (particularly stemming from the entitlement from guests and servers she manages) and she needs a means to give something to herself. I am adding to this feeling of "people taking from her" when I propose cleaning up.
Now for my own preferences. I am relatively minimalist and get very uncomfortable when there's too much stuff around, I feel like my space is closing in on me. It's quite hard for me to move around the house, I always have to move something over if I want to eat or fix something up to eat , or sit at the couch, etc. I get very self-conscious about inviting people over (I generally just don't these days) because of Just how messy everything is. Literally our space can accommodate perhaps one guest- they could sit at couch while I'll sit at the dinner table and we can watch something or talk to each other like that. I also just generally feel like your living space is a reflection of yourself and when it's all cluttered like this It can affect your mental space.
Tl;Dr: our place is a mess. I want to clean up, but she has attachments to the things that I want to throw out. Arguments -usually- lead to putting it off another month, another year. The stuff builds.
AITAH? Thank you for reading.
2024.05.18 20:40 Dry-Vermicelli-682 Heavy double porcelain kitchen sink fell from granite.. DIY fix not working
Hey all, I am in a rough spot. My center island kitchen sink which is a single open double wide (I guess that is how to describe it) with a shape to it.. e.g. its not perfectly rectangular, but has a rounded area where its a little narrow across, but it's the same depth. The thing probably weighs 20 to 30lbs or more. Well it separated from the granite.
So being the DIYer I like to try to be, and that it was going to cost about $500 or so to get someone to come out and fix it, I thought I can do this. So I watched dozens of videos (literally) on all sorts of sink separation/repairs and it was "easy enough". Every sink in at least all 20+ videos I saw have clips/clamps that hold them up into the granite attached to the wood that sits below the granite.
Well.. first of all, my sink doesnt have those. Instead it has a bit of wood from front to back on both sides with some wood screws in it.. so I suspect the dumbasses that built it used those to give more leverage across the entire sides, but I find it odd they used wood screws to put the 3/4" small piece of wood up into the wood that the granite sits on. Because there are 5 (3 on one side, 2 on the other), all of them are NOT all the way in, they hang out a bit.. making me think they used like 2" long screws to put 3/4" plywood strip in to 3/4" wood the granite sits on. So they didn't want to screw through the granite. WTF? Our whole block of houses were built by a plethora of different contractors.. bunch of shady bullshit.
So anyway.. I bought 2 sets of 3rd hands.. to put on the floor of the under sink and "raise up" the sink once I put in the epoxy and silicone sealant. I saw a bunch of videos.. some used some gorilla stuff, some used just silicone stuff, and a few used epoxy, then put silicone bead around it. I felt that was the way to go because this was a heavier sink.
Well live and learn.. that shit is a major pain in the ass to make work. Had gloves on, mask, mixed up some jbweld, tried to use a thin thingy to get it under the granite and spread it on the granite and the sink lip top all around it. I had positioned the 4 3rd hands ready to crank their handles to raise it up. So I got the bead.. and after trying to frantically wipe any spillage of jbweld and bead over the side and on the counter.. I started to try to raise it up.
First, I should add that we've had a bunch of leaks and the floor under the sink was nasty. I seen a few videos on that and basically bought some 1/2" ply to wood glue down on to that to fix that. The right way is to remove it, put more wood blocks under if none are there, and all that. But I figured we're selling this house soon anyway.. so I'll put a new sheet of 1/2" ply with wood glue and that should work well enough. Anyway.. as I start to press the 3rd hand triggers.. stupid me had no idea the rotted wood would give way so my 3rd hands all fell through the floor.. and now none of them actually raise up far enough to reach the bottom of the sink to raise it.
SO.. couple things. First.. clearly I have to remove the bottom and replace that.. and hope its not worse than what I see. But even after doing that.. when the floor did not give initially.. I could not raise the sink up to touch the counter. Like.. I loosened the screws that were holding those strips of wood to see if that would lower the sink a little.. that didn't seem to help at all. Makes me wonder if those strips are hiding clamps as well. So I'll probably now have to do that.
But what really pisses me off.. is that I now have jbweld epoxy and silicone drying up (supposedly in 24 hours) on the sink.. and not even sure I can easily get the epoxy off of the bottom of the granite or the top of the sink lip.
At this point I am probably going to just eat the fucking cost of hiring a pro to do it. Cause I am now thinking I am in over my head, and we had some nasty smell shit between dishwasher, garbage disposal and such anyway. So maybe just eat the $2000+ (God I hope its not that much) to get it all fixed/cleaned.
So fucking frustrated. Watch all these videos and every one of them.. well most were "first time ever doing this.." and everything went super smooth. I had a mess of epoxy and shit dripping.. all over.. smooth my ass.
Posting though to see if some experts might have a suggestion.. e.g. should I give it another go? I do have another thing of epoxy and also silicone. I think I'd rip the bottom out.. maybe use some wood blocks there to hold the 3rd hands.. but I am still baffled why I cant raise the sink up to the bottom of the granite?
I assume I'll have to remove the damn disposal now and all the tubing everywhere to do this right.
submitted by Dry-Vermicelli-682 to askaplumber [link] [comments]
So being the DIYer I like to try to be, and that it was going to cost about $500 or so to get someone to come out and fix it, I thought I can do this. So I watched dozens of videos (literally) on all sorts of sink separation/repairs and it was "easy enough". Every sink in at least all 20+ videos I saw have clips/clamps that hold them up into the granite attached to the wood that sits below the granite.
Well.. first of all, my sink doesnt have those. Instead it has a bit of wood from front to back on both sides with some wood screws in it.. so I suspect the dumbasses that built it used those to give more leverage across the entire sides, but I find it odd they used wood screws to put the 3/4" small piece of wood up into the wood that the granite sits on. Because there are 5 (3 on one side, 2 on the other), all of them are NOT all the way in, they hang out a bit.. making me think they used like 2" long screws to put 3/4" plywood strip in to 3/4" wood the granite sits on. So they didn't want to screw through the granite. WTF? Our whole block of houses were built by a plethora of different contractors.. bunch of shady bullshit.
So anyway.. I bought 2 sets of 3rd hands.. to put on the floor of the under sink and "raise up" the sink once I put in the epoxy and silicone sealant. I saw a bunch of videos.. some used some gorilla stuff, some used just silicone stuff, and a few used epoxy, then put silicone bead around it. I felt that was the way to go because this was a heavier sink.
Well live and learn.. that shit is a major pain in the ass to make work. Had gloves on, mask, mixed up some jbweld, tried to use a thin thingy to get it under the granite and spread it on the granite and the sink lip top all around it. I had positioned the 4 3rd hands ready to crank their handles to raise it up. So I got the bead.. and after trying to frantically wipe any spillage of jbweld and bead over the side and on the counter.. I started to try to raise it up.
First, I should add that we've had a bunch of leaks and the floor under the sink was nasty. I seen a few videos on that and basically bought some 1/2" ply to wood glue down on to that to fix that. The right way is to remove it, put more wood blocks under if none are there, and all that. But I figured we're selling this house soon anyway.. so I'll put a new sheet of 1/2" ply with wood glue and that should work well enough. Anyway.. as I start to press the 3rd hand triggers.. stupid me had no idea the rotted wood would give way so my 3rd hands all fell through the floor.. and now none of them actually raise up far enough to reach the bottom of the sink to raise it.
SO.. couple things. First.. clearly I have to remove the bottom and replace that.. and hope its not worse than what I see. But even after doing that.. when the floor did not give initially.. I could not raise the sink up to touch the counter. Like.. I loosened the screws that were holding those strips of wood to see if that would lower the sink a little.. that didn't seem to help at all. Makes me wonder if those strips are hiding clamps as well. So I'll probably now have to do that.
But what really pisses me off.. is that I now have jbweld epoxy and silicone drying up (supposedly in 24 hours) on the sink.. and not even sure I can easily get the epoxy off of the bottom of the granite or the top of the sink lip.
At this point I am probably going to just eat the fucking cost of hiring a pro to do it. Cause I am now thinking I am in over my head, and we had some nasty smell shit between dishwasher, garbage disposal and such anyway. So maybe just eat the $2000+ (God I hope its not that much) to get it all fixed/cleaned.
So fucking frustrated. Watch all these videos and every one of them.. well most were "first time ever doing this.." and everything went super smooth. I had a mess of epoxy and shit dripping.. all over.. smooth my ass.
Posting though to see if some experts might have a suggestion.. e.g. should I give it another go? I do have another thing of epoxy and also silicone. I think I'd rip the bottom out.. maybe use some wood blocks there to hold the 3rd hands.. but I am still baffled why I cant raise the sink up to the bottom of the granite?
I assume I'll have to remove the damn disposal now and all the tubing everywhere to do this right.
2024.05.18 20:30 roseohseven Long first time trip report 5/13-5/18!
LOOOONG first time trip report! 5/13-5/18, stayed at Beach Club, visited all four parks, bought Genie+ every day, had the standard DDP. Family of 4, two girls 5 and 9. I learned so much from this group over the past year and especially loved trip reports, so hopefully this post will be helpful to someone!
💲BUDGET💲
-- I booked the trip a year out so I could break it up into 12 manageable payments. I opened the no fee Disney VISA, which gives you several months of no interest on charges made towards Disney travel packages, rewards dollars to use at Disney, and a couple other perks like character meet and greets and discounts.
-- I signed up for Disney Movie Insiders. This is what you're supposed to do with all those little codes that come in Disney DVDs/Blurays. You enter the codes in exchange for points, and at 1000 points, you can redeem for a $10 Disney gift card. You also get points for being subscribed to Disney+, seeing Disney movies in the theater, their social media accounts, and a whole bunch of other things. I got $50 in gift cards from this alone.
-- If you want Disney-themed luggage, try thinking outside the box to save money! I got plain luggage in Mickey colors--red and black--and Mickey luggage tags to make them Disney themed.
-- I tried to budget for souvenirs via gift cards... but I failed, lol. Everything is so expensive, $100 is gone in a second. Plushes are like $40, coffee cups are $20, etc. Whatever you're planning to spend, double it! I get what people say about most shops having the same stuff, but it's definitely not all of them, most of the ones post-ride have unique stuff. And honestly it's kind of nice most of them have the same stuff, if you want to get whatever your kid was asking for earlier, you don't have to walk all the way back to the one shop you saw it at.
-- We paid for Memory Maker and I'm on the fence about it. On the one hand, it's really nice to get all the ride photos and meet and greet photos and magic shots. It's also really nice for the whole family to be in a lot of pictures and not have to swap with the other adult or find someone willing to take your picture. On the other, we definitely didn't utilize it as much as I wanted to because a lot of the photographers had pretty long lines and I just didn't want to spend time waiting for a picture I could take myself. If we came across someone with a shortish or no line, we made sure to get it, but for anyone with a long line, we just stood around the same spot and took our own.
🗓️PLANNING🗓️
-- If you have kids and live within easy driving distance of another amusement park, highly recommend making a visit BEFORE going to Disney to get an idea of how they handle that kind of day/environment, especially if they have never been. I quickly discovered we would absolutely need a stroller and I would need to be militant with the kids about staying hydrated. Also to avoid face paint, as heat + tears + paint + eyes = bad day! I felt so much better making these discoveries beforehand and being able to prepare accordingly, rather than making them at Disney.
-- USE AN AGENT! An agent is free to you, so why not have the help? Ours was amazing, she gave us quotes, booked the package, rebooked as needed later when a better deal came out, made all the payments, dining and extra reservations, and was just all-around awesome to work with. It was such a load off to know I wasn't on my own with all this stuff.
-- Watch everything Ear Scouts. No one explains Genie+ better, and Rob and Erick's videos are just so positive and beautiful and well done.
-- I also enjoyed reading Disney Tourist Blog--lovingly snarky but super informative!--and Disney Food Blog for fun tips and news.
-- I didn't find any park to be a half day park, we filled our whole day in every one and still didn't see everything!
-- My kids did really well, whenever they were on the verge of cranky, we had one ride in the stroller for a while, bought a snack (usually ice cream or popcorn), and used the bubble wand, and/or gave them some ibuprofen, and everyone felt better pretty quick. We never tried to do fireworks, we were all done by 8 so always left after dinner. The only park we closed down was EPCOT because we didn't get out of dinner until after close, and that was a really cool experience, the park was so quiet and empty and beautiful!
-- You don't NEED a Magic Band... but man, was it convenient. We just had 1.0 Magic Bands though, we didn't bother with the 2.0s.
-- I guess moving through security fast is important to people rope dropping... but as someone who didn't, it added like maybe 30 seconds to a minute to the experience the couple times my bag got flagged, it's really not a big deal.
-- I'm not saying anyone's lying about bad experiences or exaggerating or anything, but try to remember that far more people go on the Internet to complain than they do to praise. I got so stressed about all the things that could go wrong, and we had a pretty much perfect trip. The only attraction that broke down on us was Muppetvision, of all things. The only "bad behavior" we witnessed was the morning we were leaving, we could hear a dad across the hall yelling at his family, I think they overslept and were going to miss their flight or something? We just turned the TV on so we didn't have to hear him. A couple times we forgot to take our stuff with us when we parked our stroller or forgot some food in it, and neither people nor animals bothered it. The only dicey thing that happened to us was me dropping my phone into the Dumbo moat, the cast members fished it out and it still worked, I sent them a cast compliment for all their help! All the cast members were great, I'm not really sure what people expect but IMO they all do amazing for having to be peppy and helpful all day in absolutely blazing heat, walking a ride conveyer belt nonstop, repeating the same spiels over and over, meeting person after person, etc. I wouldn't last a 2 hour shift let alone 8. Cast members, you rock!!!
✈️TRAVEL✈️
-- We flew Delta, flight there was flawless, flight home was delayed by an hour waiting for crew and was a little bumpy (which is not great for a nervous flyer like me) but otherwise fine.
-- Get TSA PreCheck! Good for a few years, if the adults have it the kids have it too. It made the whole experience so much easier. That said, even PreCheck still moves kind of slow at MCO, so definitely get there at least 2 hours early for your flight. Use curbside check-in for bags, way faster than the long line inside!
-- On our agent's recommendation, we used Away We Go for ground transport in Orlando. They communicate really well, both ways were flawless, no complaints!
-- We used Minnie Vans to get to Animal Kingdom + Sanaa and Magic Kingdom, what a wonderful service! Definitely pricey, but they had cartoons on in the car, booster seats they set up for you, and the drivers were so nice and friendly and had fun trivia to share. I never had any problem requesting one when I needed it.
⛱️BEACH CLUB⛱️
-- We knew we wanted an onsite hotel where you could walk to at least one park. This pretty much limits you to a handful of Deluxe hotels or the Swan and Dolphin. Beach Club won for us because it's "in the Disney bubble" and you can walk to 2/4 parks. Note that while you can technically walk to Hollywood Studios, it is a LOOOONG walk. The boat is a nice not crowded alternative! We did not make use of Early Entry or Extended Hours, we're just not built for either. Beach Club was lovely, we booked a resort view but I think we ended up with a water view, we were right by the quiet pool and could see the water beyond from our room. Stormalong Bay was a little crazy for us but we loved the quiet pool. Best thing about Beach Club though is the location, EPCOT is literally steps away!
🌳ANIMAL KINGDOM🌳
-- We had read that there's really no bad day to do AK, so we started there. We rode: Navi River Journey, Flight of Passage, Kali River Rapids, Everest, Kilimanjaro Safaris, Triceratops Spin, and Dinosaur--so pretty much everything! With Genie+ we walked onto all of them. We also met Moana, Pocahontas, and Russell! The only thing we didn't do here that we wanted to was the Gorilla Falls trail, but we just ran out of time before the park closed.
🌐EPCOT🌐
-- We had read to avoid EPCOT on Fridays and Saturdays, so we went on Wednesday. We rode: Grand Fiesta Tour, Living with the Land, Nemo, Spaceship Earth, Imagination with Figment, Frozen, Remy, Journey of Water, and Guardians--everything we wanted! Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! Outside of our character meal (more on that in the dining section!), we also met Anna, Elsa, and Asha! Tried a couple of Flower and Garden snacks: chicken and waffles, fruit and cheese strudel, and potato pancakes, all were delicious! Everyone had a different favorite day, but EPCOT was personally my favorite day, it felt like we were firing on all cylinders and the day just went really smoothly!
🏰MAGIC KINGDOM🏰
-- We had read that Wednesdays were the quietest days at MK, so we were originally going to try to do it that day, but we could only get a reservation for Cinderella's Royal Table on Thursday, so we switched it up. Definitely the most crowded of all the parks we visited, but I think that's just the norm for MK, everyone wants to go to the castle park with the most rides. We rode: Regal Carousel, Tomorrowland Speedway, Barnstormer, Magic Carpets, Mad Tea Party, People Mover, Dumbo, Small World, Little Mermaid, Pirates, Space Ranger Spin, Jungle Cruise, TRON, and Peter Pan. Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! The only ride we missed at this park that we wanted to do was Pooh, I couldn't manage to get a return time that was earlier than we planned on leaving. Outside of our character meals (more on those in the dining section!) we also met Mirabel, Tiana, and Rapunzel! We had both the Rapunzel and Aurora ice creams, both so good and cute!
🎬HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS🎬
-- We had read that, like MK, it's better to do HS later in the week, so we went Friday. We rode: Slinky, Alien Saucers, Toy Story Mania, Rise, Smuggler's Run, Runaway Railway. Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! The only ride we missed was Tower of Terror, again I couldn't manage to get a return time that was earlier than we planned on leaving. We also met Olaf, be aware Olaf doesn't sign stuff, they just give you a signature card. This park needs more shade IMO, especially Toy Story Land, I know it's supposed to be Andy's backyard, but I don't see why that means we can't have some shade from trees or something. 🤪 Blue milk from Galaxy's Edge was really good, the family was all fighting over it!
🍽️DINING🍽️
-- We almost certainly lost some money on the DDP, but I'm still glad we got it because it allowed us to do more table service meals and have less stress overall about expenses. We easily used up everything but child quick service credits, we had a few of those left over near the end.
Here's where we ate!
BOARDWALK DELI/PIZZA WINDOW: Pizza for the kids, sandwiches for the adults. Tasty and satisfying after our day of travel!
BEACHES AND CREAM: Got the kitchen sink for the experience, but honestly it's not great, all the ice cream and toppings melt together quick and you just end up with weird ice cream soup.
SAT'ULI CANTEEN: LOVED this place, everything was so yummy! Best quick service we had!
SANAA: Since Animal Kingdom closes so early, we thought we'd try to extend the experience by eating at Sanaa. What a great idea, we got seated right by a window and saw so many animals! The food was great too.
AKERSHUS: Our favorite princess meal! We met Aurora, Tiana, Snow White, Ariel, and Belle. They were all lovely, and the breakfast was really good too. Only 1 credit on the DDP!
GARDEN GRILL: Our kids really enjoyed getting to look down over Living with the Land and the fact that the restaurant spins. We met Farmer Mickey, Pluto, and Chip and Dale. They were fun and even came to our table more than once. Food was good!
SPACE 220: Not on the DDP, but wow, what a cool restaurant! Almost like a ride with the theming and the elevator up. Food was really good.
CINDERELLA'S ROYAL TABLE: You gotta eat in the castle! We paid for it OOP because we didn't want to use up 2 DDP credits here. You're really going for the location and the princesses, the food is kinda meh, not bad but not as good as other places. The restaurant is small and they have to turn tables quick, so it's very understandable to me that the princesses have to move fast. It's not that they rush you, they'll take all the pictures you ask for and sign whatever and answer your questions, but if you don't have much you need, they try to keep moving. Akershus is much bigger so they are able to be more relaxed there. The only small bummer is that we didn't see Merida (maybe she was on vacation too!) We did meet Cinderella, Ariel, Jasmine, and Aurora though!
CRYSTAL PALACE: We are not big on buffets but we enjoyed meeting Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore and Tigger!
TOPOLINO'S: Maybe the best food of the trip, steak and eggs were so good! The character artist costumes are so cute too. It was fun to have an excuse to ride the Skyliner to get here from Beach Club too.
DOCKING BAY 7: The theming is great, but the food wasn't as good as Satuli Canteen IMO.
THE MARKET AT ALE & COMPASS: We had quick service credits we wanted to use up on the last day and we didn't want to leave the resort again, otherwise I would have gone somewhere else, food was meh.
✨EXTRAS✨
-- I originally wanted to book Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique for my kids, but it's so expensive/competitive that I decided to didn't want the stress. Instead I booked Have Wand, Will Travel to come to our room and bought dresses from Presley Couture and Only Little Once. I chose Have Wand, Will Travel because they keep character throughout. Fairy Godmother Elyse was amazing and so much fun, my kids loved it and kept talking about it all day!
-- That same morning I ordered a Sammicakes breakfast box with beignets for us to eat. I also ordered a pretend letter from The DCP and Me on Etsy to make it seem like the breakfast came from Tiana. My kids also loved this and had fun telling Tiana about it both times we met her. Sammicakes was good but a LOT of food, sadly we didn't end up eating half of it. It can last you at least 3 days!
-- We had Birthdays and More decorate our door, it was a really fun surprise for the kids on our first day and made our room easy to find. The kids also loved reusing the decorations at home on their own doors!
-- Matching shirts and ear hats, all from Etsy! So many cool designs there, hardest part is choosing!
-- Got my kids a pin trading lanyard with some pins, they loooooved pin trading! It was like free souvenirs.
🧳PACKING🧳
-- Things the Internet Told Me to Pack That I Needed: Scissors, ziploc bags, ibuprofen (kids and adults), garbage bags, big carabiners to hook on the strolleuse to carry multiple bags at once.
-- Things the Internet Told Me to Pack that I Didn't Need: stainless steel straws (the paper straws are more like hard cardboard, they really don't break down unless your kid is gnawing on them or something), ponchos (it did rain some most days, but wearing a poncho was almost more miserable than not wearing one, it's so hot and humid to be walking around in a plastic bag! We did better taking shelter and using umbrellas.), wipes (obv you need them if your kid is younger, but mine were older and just never got messy enough to need them), glow sticks (we never stayed anywhere long enough to use them), bottled wateLiquid IV (the tap water tasted the same as home to us, but we live in a rural area so maybe we are just used to imperfect water?) Basically, the less you can get away carrying in the parks, the better. It's annoying to lug stuff around you don't end up needing or using!
🛞STROLLER🛞
-- I know it seems insane that your 5 year old and 9 year old will need a stroller, but mine definitely did. Once I accepted that I was going to have to get one, I tried to make the best of it, and actually got really into decorating it so we could always easily spot it in the sea (the decorations also later made nice wall decor for a gallery of our trip!) The Magic Spotter flag was the best investment, hardly anyone had them so it was easy to instantly spot our stroller anywhere we left it, even if it got moved. That said, I definitely didn't want to spend a lot on a stroller we were really only buying for this one trip, so I got a used Joovy Caboose on Facebook Marketplace for $50. It was very hard to handle with two older kids in it, and even with one it was hard to handle unless the kid was in the back seat. So we basically used it like a single stroller, glad I didn't spend a lot on it since it was so hard to drive!
☔WEATHER☔
-- We had mostly great weather, it rained some every day except Magic Kingdom day but it passed within an hour each time. We wore socks with Crocs so that if/when it rained, we could just take our wet socks off and walk in our Crocs, this worked great! Don't trust the weather reports though, two days it wasn't supposed to rain. One day it actually didn't, the other day it did and we had to walk in wet shoes because we didn't wear the Crocs that day. Just figure it might rain any day and be prepared! See above note RE: ponchos being not great and shelter + umbrellas being better. When it didn't rain, It. Was. Hot. 🥵 In the 90s but definitely felt hotter with the humidity making it so sticky. We felt there was plenty of shade at Animal Kingdom and EPCOT, but hardly any at Magic Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, which I would say slightly affected how much fun we had on those days comparatively.
Phew! That's about it, let me know if you have any questions!
submitted by roseohseven to WaltDisneyWorld [link] [comments]
💲BUDGET💲
-- I booked the trip a year out so I could break it up into 12 manageable payments. I opened the no fee Disney VISA, which gives you several months of no interest on charges made towards Disney travel packages, rewards dollars to use at Disney, and a couple other perks like character meet and greets and discounts.
-- I signed up for Disney Movie Insiders. This is what you're supposed to do with all those little codes that come in Disney DVDs/Blurays. You enter the codes in exchange for points, and at 1000 points, you can redeem for a $10 Disney gift card. You also get points for being subscribed to Disney+, seeing Disney movies in the theater, their social media accounts, and a whole bunch of other things. I got $50 in gift cards from this alone.
-- If you want Disney-themed luggage, try thinking outside the box to save money! I got plain luggage in Mickey colors--red and black--and Mickey luggage tags to make them Disney themed.
-- I tried to budget for souvenirs via gift cards... but I failed, lol. Everything is so expensive, $100 is gone in a second. Plushes are like $40, coffee cups are $20, etc. Whatever you're planning to spend, double it! I get what people say about most shops having the same stuff, but it's definitely not all of them, most of the ones post-ride have unique stuff. And honestly it's kind of nice most of them have the same stuff, if you want to get whatever your kid was asking for earlier, you don't have to walk all the way back to the one shop you saw it at.
-- We paid for Memory Maker and I'm on the fence about it. On the one hand, it's really nice to get all the ride photos and meet and greet photos and magic shots. It's also really nice for the whole family to be in a lot of pictures and not have to swap with the other adult or find someone willing to take your picture. On the other, we definitely didn't utilize it as much as I wanted to because a lot of the photographers had pretty long lines and I just didn't want to spend time waiting for a picture I could take myself. If we came across someone with a shortish or no line, we made sure to get it, but for anyone with a long line, we just stood around the same spot and took our own.
🗓️PLANNING🗓️
-- If you have kids and live within easy driving distance of another amusement park, highly recommend making a visit BEFORE going to Disney to get an idea of how they handle that kind of day/environment, especially if they have never been. I quickly discovered we would absolutely need a stroller and I would need to be militant with the kids about staying hydrated. Also to avoid face paint, as heat + tears + paint + eyes = bad day! I felt so much better making these discoveries beforehand and being able to prepare accordingly, rather than making them at Disney.
-- USE AN AGENT! An agent is free to you, so why not have the help? Ours was amazing, she gave us quotes, booked the package, rebooked as needed later when a better deal came out, made all the payments, dining and extra reservations, and was just all-around awesome to work with. It was such a load off to know I wasn't on my own with all this stuff.
-- Watch everything Ear Scouts. No one explains Genie+ better, and Rob and Erick's videos are just so positive and beautiful and well done.
-- I also enjoyed reading Disney Tourist Blog--lovingly snarky but super informative!--and Disney Food Blog for fun tips and news.
-- I didn't find any park to be a half day park, we filled our whole day in every one and still didn't see everything!
-- My kids did really well, whenever they were on the verge of cranky, we had one ride in the stroller for a while, bought a snack (usually ice cream or popcorn), and used the bubble wand, and/or gave them some ibuprofen, and everyone felt better pretty quick. We never tried to do fireworks, we were all done by 8 so always left after dinner. The only park we closed down was EPCOT because we didn't get out of dinner until after close, and that was a really cool experience, the park was so quiet and empty and beautiful!
-- You don't NEED a Magic Band... but man, was it convenient. We just had 1.0 Magic Bands though, we didn't bother with the 2.0s.
-- I guess moving through security fast is important to people rope dropping... but as someone who didn't, it added like maybe 30 seconds to a minute to the experience the couple times my bag got flagged, it's really not a big deal.
-- I'm not saying anyone's lying about bad experiences or exaggerating or anything, but try to remember that far more people go on the Internet to complain than they do to praise. I got so stressed about all the things that could go wrong, and we had a pretty much perfect trip. The only attraction that broke down on us was Muppetvision, of all things. The only "bad behavior" we witnessed was the morning we were leaving, we could hear a dad across the hall yelling at his family, I think they overslept and were going to miss their flight or something? We just turned the TV on so we didn't have to hear him. A couple times we forgot to take our stuff with us when we parked our stroller or forgot some food in it, and neither people nor animals bothered it. The only dicey thing that happened to us was me dropping my phone into the Dumbo moat, the cast members fished it out and it still worked, I sent them a cast compliment for all their help! All the cast members were great, I'm not really sure what people expect but IMO they all do amazing for having to be peppy and helpful all day in absolutely blazing heat, walking a ride conveyer belt nonstop, repeating the same spiels over and over, meeting person after person, etc. I wouldn't last a 2 hour shift let alone 8. Cast members, you rock!!!
✈️TRAVEL✈️
-- We flew Delta, flight there was flawless, flight home was delayed by an hour waiting for crew and was a little bumpy (which is not great for a nervous flyer like me) but otherwise fine.
-- Get TSA PreCheck! Good for a few years, if the adults have it the kids have it too. It made the whole experience so much easier. That said, even PreCheck still moves kind of slow at MCO, so definitely get there at least 2 hours early for your flight. Use curbside check-in for bags, way faster than the long line inside!
-- On our agent's recommendation, we used Away We Go for ground transport in Orlando. They communicate really well, both ways were flawless, no complaints!
-- We used Minnie Vans to get to Animal Kingdom + Sanaa and Magic Kingdom, what a wonderful service! Definitely pricey, but they had cartoons on in the car, booster seats they set up for you, and the drivers were so nice and friendly and had fun trivia to share. I never had any problem requesting one when I needed it.
⛱️BEACH CLUB⛱️
-- We knew we wanted an onsite hotel where you could walk to at least one park. This pretty much limits you to a handful of Deluxe hotels or the Swan and Dolphin. Beach Club won for us because it's "in the Disney bubble" and you can walk to 2/4 parks. Note that while you can technically walk to Hollywood Studios, it is a LOOOONG walk. The boat is a nice not crowded alternative! We did not make use of Early Entry or Extended Hours, we're just not built for either. Beach Club was lovely, we booked a resort view but I think we ended up with a water view, we were right by the quiet pool and could see the water beyond from our room. Stormalong Bay was a little crazy for us but we loved the quiet pool. Best thing about Beach Club though is the location, EPCOT is literally steps away!
🌳ANIMAL KINGDOM🌳
-- We had read that there's really no bad day to do AK, so we started there. We rode: Navi River Journey, Flight of Passage, Kali River Rapids, Everest, Kilimanjaro Safaris, Triceratops Spin, and Dinosaur--so pretty much everything! With Genie+ we walked onto all of them. We also met Moana, Pocahontas, and Russell! The only thing we didn't do here that we wanted to was the Gorilla Falls trail, but we just ran out of time before the park closed.
🌐EPCOT🌐
-- We had read to avoid EPCOT on Fridays and Saturdays, so we went on Wednesday. We rode: Grand Fiesta Tour, Living with the Land, Nemo, Spaceship Earth, Imagination with Figment, Frozen, Remy, Journey of Water, and Guardians--everything we wanted! Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! Outside of our character meal (more on that in the dining section!), we also met Anna, Elsa, and Asha! Tried a couple of Flower and Garden snacks: chicken and waffles, fruit and cheese strudel, and potato pancakes, all were delicious! Everyone had a different favorite day, but EPCOT was personally my favorite day, it felt like we were firing on all cylinders and the day just went really smoothly!
🏰MAGIC KINGDOM🏰
-- We had read that Wednesdays were the quietest days at MK, so we were originally going to try to do it that day, but we could only get a reservation for Cinderella's Royal Table on Thursday, so we switched it up. Definitely the most crowded of all the parks we visited, but I think that's just the norm for MK, everyone wants to go to the castle park with the most rides. We rode: Regal Carousel, Tomorrowland Speedway, Barnstormer, Magic Carpets, Mad Tea Party, People Mover, Dumbo, Small World, Little Mermaid, Pirates, Space Ranger Spin, Jungle Cruise, TRON, and Peter Pan. Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! The only ride we missed at this park that we wanted to do was Pooh, I couldn't manage to get a return time that was earlier than we planned on leaving. Outside of our character meals (more on those in the dining section!) we also met Mirabel, Tiana, and Rapunzel! We had both the Rapunzel and Aurora ice creams, both so good and cute!
🎬HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS🎬
-- We had read that, like MK, it's better to do HS later in the week, so we went Friday. We rode: Slinky, Alien Saucers, Toy Story Mania, Rise, Smuggler's Run, Runaway Railway. Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! The only ride we missed was Tower of Terror, again I couldn't manage to get a return time that was earlier than we planned on leaving. We also met Olaf, be aware Olaf doesn't sign stuff, they just give you a signature card. This park needs more shade IMO, especially Toy Story Land, I know it's supposed to be Andy's backyard, but I don't see why that means we can't have some shade from trees or something. 🤪 Blue milk from Galaxy's Edge was really good, the family was all fighting over it!
🍽️DINING🍽️
-- We almost certainly lost some money on the DDP, but I'm still glad we got it because it allowed us to do more table service meals and have less stress overall about expenses. We easily used up everything but child quick service credits, we had a few of those left over near the end.
Here's where we ate!
BOARDWALK DELI/PIZZA WINDOW: Pizza for the kids, sandwiches for the adults. Tasty and satisfying after our day of travel!
BEACHES AND CREAM: Got the kitchen sink for the experience, but honestly it's not great, all the ice cream and toppings melt together quick and you just end up with weird ice cream soup.
SAT'ULI CANTEEN: LOVED this place, everything was so yummy! Best quick service we had!
SANAA: Since Animal Kingdom closes so early, we thought we'd try to extend the experience by eating at Sanaa. What a great idea, we got seated right by a window and saw so many animals! The food was great too.
AKERSHUS: Our favorite princess meal! We met Aurora, Tiana, Snow White, Ariel, and Belle. They were all lovely, and the breakfast was really good too. Only 1 credit on the DDP!
GARDEN GRILL: Our kids really enjoyed getting to look down over Living with the Land and the fact that the restaurant spins. We met Farmer Mickey, Pluto, and Chip and Dale. They were fun and even came to our table more than once. Food was good!
SPACE 220: Not on the DDP, but wow, what a cool restaurant! Almost like a ride with the theming and the elevator up. Food was really good.
CINDERELLA'S ROYAL TABLE: You gotta eat in the castle! We paid for it OOP because we didn't want to use up 2 DDP credits here. You're really going for the location and the princesses, the food is kinda meh, not bad but not as good as other places. The restaurant is small and they have to turn tables quick, so it's very understandable to me that the princesses have to move fast. It's not that they rush you, they'll take all the pictures you ask for and sign whatever and answer your questions, but if you don't have much you need, they try to keep moving. Akershus is much bigger so they are able to be more relaxed there. The only small bummer is that we didn't see Merida (maybe she was on vacation too!) We did meet Cinderella, Ariel, Jasmine, and Aurora though!
CRYSTAL PALACE: We are not big on buffets but we enjoyed meeting Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore and Tigger!
TOPOLINO'S: Maybe the best food of the trip, steak and eggs were so good! The character artist costumes are so cute too. It was fun to have an excuse to ride the Skyliner to get here from Beach Club too.
DOCKING BAY 7: The theming is great, but the food wasn't as good as Satuli Canteen IMO.
THE MARKET AT ALE & COMPASS: We had quick service credits we wanted to use up on the last day and we didn't want to leave the resort again, otherwise I would have gone somewhere else, food was meh.
✨EXTRAS✨
-- I originally wanted to book Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique for my kids, but it's so expensive/competitive that I decided to didn't want the stress. Instead I booked Have Wand, Will Travel to come to our room and bought dresses from Presley Couture and Only Little Once. I chose Have Wand, Will Travel because they keep character throughout. Fairy Godmother Elyse was amazing and so much fun, my kids loved it and kept talking about it all day!
-- That same morning I ordered a Sammicakes breakfast box with beignets for us to eat. I also ordered a pretend letter from The DCP and Me on Etsy to make it seem like the breakfast came from Tiana. My kids also loved this and had fun telling Tiana about it both times we met her. Sammicakes was good but a LOT of food, sadly we didn't end up eating half of it. It can last you at least 3 days!
-- We had Birthdays and More decorate our door, it was a really fun surprise for the kids on our first day and made our room easy to find. The kids also loved reusing the decorations at home on their own doors!
-- Matching shirts and ear hats, all from Etsy! So many cool designs there, hardest part is choosing!
-- Got my kids a pin trading lanyard with some pins, they loooooved pin trading! It was like free souvenirs.
🧳PACKING🧳
-- Things the Internet Told Me to Pack That I Needed: Scissors, ziploc bags, ibuprofen (kids and adults), garbage bags, big carabiners to hook on the strolleuse to carry multiple bags at once.
-- Things the Internet Told Me to Pack that I Didn't Need: stainless steel straws (the paper straws are more like hard cardboard, they really don't break down unless your kid is gnawing on them or something), ponchos (it did rain some most days, but wearing a poncho was almost more miserable than not wearing one, it's so hot and humid to be walking around in a plastic bag! We did better taking shelter and using umbrellas.), wipes (obv you need them if your kid is younger, but mine were older and just never got messy enough to need them), glow sticks (we never stayed anywhere long enough to use them), bottled wateLiquid IV (the tap water tasted the same as home to us, but we live in a rural area so maybe we are just used to imperfect water?) Basically, the less you can get away carrying in the parks, the better. It's annoying to lug stuff around you don't end up needing or using!
🛞STROLLER🛞
-- I know it seems insane that your 5 year old and 9 year old will need a stroller, but mine definitely did. Once I accepted that I was going to have to get one, I tried to make the best of it, and actually got really into decorating it so we could always easily spot it in the sea (the decorations also later made nice wall decor for a gallery of our trip!) The Magic Spotter flag was the best investment, hardly anyone had them so it was easy to instantly spot our stroller anywhere we left it, even if it got moved. That said, I definitely didn't want to spend a lot on a stroller we were really only buying for this one trip, so I got a used Joovy Caboose on Facebook Marketplace for $50. It was very hard to handle with two older kids in it, and even with one it was hard to handle unless the kid was in the back seat. So we basically used it like a single stroller, glad I didn't spend a lot on it since it was so hard to drive!
☔WEATHER☔
-- We had mostly great weather, it rained some every day except Magic Kingdom day but it passed within an hour each time. We wore socks with Crocs so that if/when it rained, we could just take our wet socks off and walk in our Crocs, this worked great! Don't trust the weather reports though, two days it wasn't supposed to rain. One day it actually didn't, the other day it did and we had to walk in wet shoes because we didn't wear the Crocs that day. Just figure it might rain any day and be prepared! See above note RE: ponchos being not great and shelter + umbrellas being better. When it didn't rain, It. Was. Hot. 🥵 In the 90s but definitely felt hotter with the humidity making it so sticky. We felt there was plenty of shade at Animal Kingdom and EPCOT, but hardly any at Magic Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, which I would say slightly affected how much fun we had on those days comparatively.
Phew! That's about it, let me know if you have any questions!
2024.05.18 20:24 kappakingtut2 I keep dreaming about abandoning my family and just renting a small apartment somewhere.
Okay first of all, even if I had the courage to go through with it I couldn't afford it. I don't have any savings. Live in paycheck to paycheck without any money to use as a security deposit.
I'm so exhausted. The reason why I don't have any money is cuz I keep putting it back into the family. For as long as I've been working I haven't been able to save anything. There's always been some problem or some emergency, and most of the time it's somebody else's problem that I'm trying to fix for them. I owe 10,000 between two different credit cards because every time I start to pay it off, there's another big expense that goes towards the family. Just paying off the interest, The absolute minimum monthly payment to avoid late fees, is about 300 a month.
I moved out of my parents' place in my early twenties. I was only gone for about a year and then my dad had his first heart attack. He survived. But he couldn't work after that. He got on social security disability, which was great, but it was less than half of what he used to make when he was working as a mechanic. This happened around the same time that my lease was up at the apartment, so instead of renewing it I decided to go back home for a little while and help them out until things stabilized again.
But then there was just one problem after another. Emergency after emergency. I've been stuck ever since. Sure there was a few short years somewhere in there that I possibly could have gotten out again, but then my mom got injured at work, I would have come back home anyway to help her. I spent a couple years driving her to doctor's appointments and physical therapy every single day. She's better now but never made a full recovery. And my dad's health got worse and worse. Now he's living with Alzheimer's dementia. Like a big stupid toddler.
We need to get my dad into a home. But we can't afford it. Those places are crazy expensive. I've been getting advice on various subreddits for this. I've been making calls for people that are supposed to help. We're waiting on some people to call us back. But so far we're mostly hitting dead ends. Medicaid would help pay for a home. But Medicaid would want to take his assets to pay for it. Including the house that we're living in. There are some rules and stipulations that would allow us to stay in the home, but they would put a lien on it and take it once we're gone. I would absolutely love to just sell the house, and use that money to get something new somewhere else. Start over or something smaller and more manageable. But our state has a 5-year look back.. so if I sell the house today, and put my dad into a home tomorrow, Medicaid would want to take some of the proceeds of the house sale to pay for the home. Even if We could keep the house completely and totally, we still owe a mortgage on it. And Medicaid would take my dad's disability checks to pay for the home, which we need to help towards the mortgage. And even if we did sell the house and start over somewhere else, rent is crazy high these days and it's more than what we're currently paying on our monthly mortgage. The mortgage rates at a new house would possibly be significantly higher than what we're currently paying. Our first and second mortgages combined add up to just about a thousand a month.
Because of my dad's dementia it's a full-time job looking after him. On top of my 40 hours a week full-time job. On top of doing what I can to look after my mom. And what's made it all worse is about 6 months ago my sister and her two kids move back in with us. Her kids are fucking wild. One of them's autistic. The other ones just an asshole. Incredibly loud. Trash demons who throw food wrappers all over the place. One of the last times she stayed with us for a while she gave us mice and bed bugs. Thankfully we were able to get rid of the mice. Bed bugs look like a lifelong struggle but I'm at a point now where I go months without seeing any of them, and want to do it's only one or two. And now that she's come back with us again, I saw roaches in our kitchen last week. I feel disgusting in my own home. Because of her and her kids, and my dad's bad hygiene.
Everybody's loud all the time care there's constant screaming. Everybody's breaking things. Everything sticky all the time for some reason. Toilets are constantly clogged and backed up. Sister's oldest kid, the 10-year-old, spends literally hours in the bathroom. The floor is usually flooded afterwards, things are thrown around like he got into a fight in there. I woke up this morning at this faucet sink was spraying outside ways, and here was crumbled up soap all over the place? It looked like he tried to reshape the soap and then jam it into the faucet to clog it.
Nobody takes out the trash except me. Nobody does the dishes except me. I'm the only one physically capable of mowing the lawn. Despite that I have a pinched nerve in the back and can barely stand up. And the mower is not working.
Can't afford to hire anybody for repairs or lawn care. With four adults and two kids, we currently only have about 40 bucks between us. We're all paycheck to paycheck. My sister hasn't had a job in like 13 years.
So I feel trapped taking care of this abusive piece of shit in a disgusting bug infested house that I don't want.
I'm so tired. I am so fucking tired. I just want to run away. I don't care about my sister or her kids. I don't care about my dad. He's been a piece of shit my entire life. But if I leave, my mom can't handle any of this alone. She can't handle any of it as it is. She has so many health issues that some days she can't even stand up or walk. She struggles to breathe a lot. But then on the good days, she's not doing enough to help me. I don't blame her for that, but it's hard to deal with the fact that I'm trying so hard and she's giving up. Some conversations it's like she's encouraging me to leave because she sees how hard it is on me, but I also know that she'll be dead within a month. Most likely from the stress. But it's also common for her to threaten suicide. And I know that that's not on me, if a person chooses to cross that line, then there's nothing I could have done to change that. But it's my mom.
I'm just rambling and venting. My issue is probably seems small compared to what a lot of other people post on here. I'm not looking for answers or advice. I don't think there are any. The only thing that would help me is if I literally did just run away and change my phone number. But I don't know how to abandon my mom. So I'm stuck. 40 years old and I barely lived my life. Never really had a chance to date. Never had a chance to build anything. Always chose the types of jobs that gave me a flexible schedule instead of the types of jobs that pay better. I can't take up a second job or pick up overtime because I need as much free time as possible to take care of my parents health issues.
The worst part about all this really is my sister and her two fucking kids. The worst my dad's dementia gets, the easier he is to deal with. He spends most of his days just sitting at the kitchen table slumped over looking stupid. So a lot of the anger and aggression have faded. If it wasn't dealing with her kids, possibly be able to manage this life. But the amount of stress they're bringing in is killing me.she always said that coming back to us was temporary. But she doesn't have a plan. She doesn't have any money. She gets social security checks for her kids. Something about their dad being dead. I don't know what the program's called or know any of the details about how it works.
The way I said the best solution would be if my sister and her two kids just ran away. Like if she just got fed up and took off somewhere. We're doing everything we can to help her and she's just fighting with my mom everyday about every little thing. Then, it would be amazing if my dad would just fucking die. Not just because I don't like him or I don't want to deal with it, but also because I know the person he used to be would hate what he's become. It really would be the best thing for him to just Go to bed one day and just not get back up. Then, once they're all gone, convince my mom to sell the house and get some small one story place and start over.
I would still have to deal with the irrational mood swings and stress of my mom. But I think I can handle that alone
Update: a couple hours after I made this post, while sitting at work, I got a text from someone at home saying that the second floor bathroom is now leaking into the living room. We can't afford a plumber. Even if I knew what I was doing, I can't afford the materials it would cost to do any kind of repair myself. I'm so fucking tired. I am seriously debating on just living in my car and running away with no money and no plan
submitted by kappakingtut2 to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
I'm so exhausted. The reason why I don't have any money is cuz I keep putting it back into the family. For as long as I've been working I haven't been able to save anything. There's always been some problem or some emergency, and most of the time it's somebody else's problem that I'm trying to fix for them. I owe 10,000 between two different credit cards because every time I start to pay it off, there's another big expense that goes towards the family. Just paying off the interest, The absolute minimum monthly payment to avoid late fees, is about 300 a month.
I moved out of my parents' place in my early twenties. I was only gone for about a year and then my dad had his first heart attack. He survived. But he couldn't work after that. He got on social security disability, which was great, but it was less than half of what he used to make when he was working as a mechanic. This happened around the same time that my lease was up at the apartment, so instead of renewing it I decided to go back home for a little while and help them out until things stabilized again.
But then there was just one problem after another. Emergency after emergency. I've been stuck ever since. Sure there was a few short years somewhere in there that I possibly could have gotten out again, but then my mom got injured at work, I would have come back home anyway to help her. I spent a couple years driving her to doctor's appointments and physical therapy every single day. She's better now but never made a full recovery. And my dad's health got worse and worse. Now he's living with Alzheimer's dementia. Like a big stupid toddler.
We need to get my dad into a home. But we can't afford it. Those places are crazy expensive. I've been getting advice on various subreddits for this. I've been making calls for people that are supposed to help. We're waiting on some people to call us back. But so far we're mostly hitting dead ends. Medicaid would help pay for a home. But Medicaid would want to take his assets to pay for it. Including the house that we're living in. There are some rules and stipulations that would allow us to stay in the home, but they would put a lien on it and take it once we're gone. I would absolutely love to just sell the house, and use that money to get something new somewhere else. Start over or something smaller and more manageable. But our state has a 5-year look back.. so if I sell the house today, and put my dad into a home tomorrow, Medicaid would want to take some of the proceeds of the house sale to pay for the home. Even if We could keep the house completely and totally, we still owe a mortgage on it. And Medicaid would take my dad's disability checks to pay for the home, which we need to help towards the mortgage. And even if we did sell the house and start over somewhere else, rent is crazy high these days and it's more than what we're currently paying on our monthly mortgage. The mortgage rates at a new house would possibly be significantly higher than what we're currently paying. Our first and second mortgages combined add up to just about a thousand a month.
Because of my dad's dementia it's a full-time job looking after him. On top of my 40 hours a week full-time job. On top of doing what I can to look after my mom. And what's made it all worse is about 6 months ago my sister and her two kids move back in with us. Her kids are fucking wild. One of them's autistic. The other ones just an asshole. Incredibly loud. Trash demons who throw food wrappers all over the place. One of the last times she stayed with us for a while she gave us mice and bed bugs. Thankfully we were able to get rid of the mice. Bed bugs look like a lifelong struggle but I'm at a point now where I go months without seeing any of them, and want to do it's only one or two. And now that she's come back with us again, I saw roaches in our kitchen last week. I feel disgusting in my own home. Because of her and her kids, and my dad's bad hygiene.
Everybody's loud all the time care there's constant screaming. Everybody's breaking things. Everything sticky all the time for some reason. Toilets are constantly clogged and backed up. Sister's oldest kid, the 10-year-old, spends literally hours in the bathroom. The floor is usually flooded afterwards, things are thrown around like he got into a fight in there. I woke up this morning at this faucet sink was spraying outside ways, and here was crumbled up soap all over the place? It looked like he tried to reshape the soap and then jam it into the faucet to clog it.
Nobody takes out the trash except me. Nobody does the dishes except me. I'm the only one physically capable of mowing the lawn. Despite that I have a pinched nerve in the back and can barely stand up. And the mower is not working.
Can't afford to hire anybody for repairs or lawn care. With four adults and two kids, we currently only have about 40 bucks between us. We're all paycheck to paycheck. My sister hasn't had a job in like 13 years.
So I feel trapped taking care of this abusive piece of shit in a disgusting bug infested house that I don't want.
I'm so tired. I am so fucking tired. I just want to run away. I don't care about my sister or her kids. I don't care about my dad. He's been a piece of shit my entire life. But if I leave, my mom can't handle any of this alone. She can't handle any of it as it is. She has so many health issues that some days she can't even stand up or walk. She struggles to breathe a lot. But then on the good days, she's not doing enough to help me. I don't blame her for that, but it's hard to deal with the fact that I'm trying so hard and she's giving up. Some conversations it's like she's encouraging me to leave because she sees how hard it is on me, but I also know that she'll be dead within a month. Most likely from the stress. But it's also common for her to threaten suicide. And I know that that's not on me, if a person chooses to cross that line, then there's nothing I could have done to change that. But it's my mom.
I'm just rambling and venting. My issue is probably seems small compared to what a lot of other people post on here. I'm not looking for answers or advice. I don't think there are any. The only thing that would help me is if I literally did just run away and change my phone number. But I don't know how to abandon my mom. So I'm stuck. 40 years old and I barely lived my life. Never really had a chance to date. Never had a chance to build anything. Always chose the types of jobs that gave me a flexible schedule instead of the types of jobs that pay better. I can't take up a second job or pick up overtime because I need as much free time as possible to take care of my parents health issues.
The worst part about all this really is my sister and her two fucking kids. The worst my dad's dementia gets, the easier he is to deal with. He spends most of his days just sitting at the kitchen table slumped over looking stupid. So a lot of the anger and aggression have faded. If it wasn't dealing with her kids, possibly be able to manage this life. But the amount of stress they're bringing in is killing me.she always said that coming back to us was temporary. But she doesn't have a plan. She doesn't have any money. She gets social security checks for her kids. Something about their dad being dead. I don't know what the program's called or know any of the details about how it works.
The way I said the best solution would be if my sister and her two kids just ran away. Like if she just got fed up and took off somewhere. We're doing everything we can to help her and she's just fighting with my mom everyday about every little thing. Then, it would be amazing if my dad would just fucking die. Not just because I don't like him or I don't want to deal with it, but also because I know the person he used to be would hate what he's become. It really would be the best thing for him to just Go to bed one day and just not get back up. Then, once they're all gone, convince my mom to sell the house and get some small one story place and start over.
I would still have to deal with the irrational mood swings and stress of my mom. But I think I can handle that alone
Update: a couple hours after I made this post, while sitting at work, I got a text from someone at home saying that the second floor bathroom is now leaking into the living room. We can't afford a plumber. Even if I knew what I was doing, I can't afford the materials it would cost to do any kind of repair myself. I'm so fucking tired. I am seriously debating on just living in my car and running away with no money and no plan